I heard them talking behind my back in the restroom stall. The intern I’d spent three months personally training was complaining, her voice sharp with resentment. “He’s just an old fossil who doesn’t get it, like some robot whose brain is stuck in a loop.” I was about to push the door open and cut her off when someone else chimed in with a snicker. “‘The materials are incomplete.’” “‘This receipt isn’t compliant.’” “‘The director hasn’t signed off, so I can’t process it.’” “Yeah, we’ve all memorized his corporate catchphrases!” I waited until they were gone, then quietly returned to my desk. The intern, Jessica, slammed a thick stack of expense reports on my desk. “Don’t you dare go on another power trip and refuse to reimburse everyone.” I glanced at the fraudulent invoice on top but didn’t call it out like I usually would. This time, I just smiled faintly. “I have a headache. I can’t see the words clearly.” 1 “What?” Jessica stared at me, then her voice turned shrill. “Are you doing this on purpose?” “If you don’t want to process them, just say so! You’re deliberately making things difficult for everyone, so cut the act!” I took a deep breath, refusing to get dragged into a pointless argument. The old me would have patiently explained it to her. Expense receipts needed to be legitimate and valid. As the gatekeepers of the company’s finances, we were legally liable. But every time, she’d push back with a defiant look. “Rules are rigid, but people are flexible. Chris, why can’t you just bend a little?” I had still maintained my professionalism, teaching her time and again how to properly audit the claims. But now, remembering her words from the restroom, a chill settled in my heart. If she didn’t appreciate my guidance, there was nothing more to say. I picked up my thermos and turned to leave. Jessica frowned and grabbed my arm. “Where are you going? Feeling guilty?” When I didn’t answer, she raised her voice. “Don’t you know everyone’s had a problem with you for ages? You think I’m the only one who can’t stand you?” “You’re always holding up people’s reimbursements. What, does the money you ‘save’ go into your own pocket?” I was stunned by the absurdity of it all. Just last week, when Jessica applied for a full-time position, I had written a glowing recommendation for her. Now, before the ink was even dry on her application, she was eager to burn this bridge. I pulled my arm away from her painful grip. “Jessica,” I said, my voice calm and measured, “you need to understand that the company has specific procedures and policies for reimbursement. I’m just following the rules.” “Rules?” she sneered. “Are you even human? All you ever talk about are rules, repeating the same lines over and over.” She huffed, her tone becoming demanding. “I don’t care. You have to approve everyone’s expenses today. The others are too polite to say anything, so I’ll be the one to do it. Chris Miller, you need to change your rotten attitude! Stop acting like a damn robot!” Her outburst was met with a ripple of soft laughter from the onlookers who had been silently watching. “Jessica’s got guts!” “Finally, someone’s putting that fossil Chris in his place.” Buoyed by the support, a triumphant smirk spread across Jessica’s face. “See? Now you know how much everyone dislikes you. You should learn from me. Be more considerate of your colleagues’ difficulties and stop making everyone bend to your will!” I almost laughed out loud. The very first expense report on the stack was a fake invoice. The description read “Business travel taxi fare,” but the amount was a staggering one hundred thousand dollars. I wondered if the colleague in question had taken a taxi on a cross-country tour. I set that report aside and flipped to the next one: a screenshot of a fifty-two-thousand-dollar mobile payment. The recipient was labeled “My Dearest Wifey.” Jessica chimed in, “That one’s for Mr. Davies from Sales. He even printed it in color for you. How thoughtful.” I didn’t argue. I moved on to the next. The entire page was a collage of QR codes with a “helpful” note scrawled beside it: “For the old ladies in finance to scan and generate their own invoices.” I put the stack down and looked at Jessica. I swallowed the words I was about to say—“We’re a legitimate company preparing for an IPO. None of this can be approved.” Instead, I smiled. “My head is killing me. I need to take some medicine. Since you’re so considerate of our colleagues, why don’t you approve them?” 2 Ignoring Jessica’s protests, I walked out. It was almost lunchtime. Instead of working through my break as usual, I left the office. Before the lunch hour was even over, my phone was ringing off the hook with calls from my superiors. In the work group chat, my department head, Amanda, was singling me out. “Chris Miller, my office, now!” I took my time, walking back into the office just one minute before the end of the break. Amanda was there, along with the heads of several other departments. It felt like a public execution. Seeing my calm demeanor, Amanda slammed her hand on the desk. “Chris, I’ve received several complaints about you today. What do you have to say for yourself?” I calmly found a chair and sat down. Before I could speak, Jessica added fuel to the fire. “Director Shaw, look at his attitude! He has no respect for you at all!” Amanda’s face flushed with anger. “Chris Miller, show some respect! Don’t act like you own the place just because you’ve been here a while!” I managed a faint smile. When this company was just a dozen people, I was the head of finance. Now, with a thousand employees, I was still just the head of finance. I carried the risk of a corporate officer but earned a salary comparable to the cleaning staff. I’d thought that as the company grew, I would too. But instead, they brought in Amanda as the new CFO. Amanda was the CEO’s wife. I had no choice but to accept it. On her first day, she tried to expense a Louis Vuitton handbag. She saw nothing wrong with it. “What’s with that look? This is my husband’s company. He put me in charge of the money. It’s perfectly natural for me to use our money to buy a purse.” I had to force a smile. “For an amount this large, we’ll need an invoice.” She was busy applying lipstick in her compact mirror. “What’s an invoice?” she asked vaguely. “Can’t you just figure it out?” She waved me away. “And they said you were a professional. You can’t even handle a small thing like this without bothering me. Useless.” It was impossible to muster any respect for a boss like her. Amanda’s attack was immediately backed by the other department heads. Mr. Davies from Sales spoke up, his tone severe. “Chris, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Times have changed, but you’re still clinging to your outdated rules, constantly picking fights with my department. What is wrong with you?” I shot him a cold look. “Picking fights? Are you referring to the time your department closed a million-dollar deal, spent four hundred thousand on client entertainment, sixty thousand on ‘gifts’ for the client’s executives, and then requested a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus, which I rejected?” “Or was it the time you asked me to help a client create a fake two-million-dollar invoice, and I refused?” “You—!” Davies pointed a trembling finger at me, his face turning beet red. He was furious. “Finance is nothing without Sales! I’m the top salesman in this company! You work for me, Chris. It’s not your place to question me!” I didn’t argue. I looked down at my phone. The message I’d sent the CEO this morning was still unanswered. The office was a cacophony of criticism. “Logistics has a problem with you too! You demand detailed receipts for everything. Do you think we’re trying to cheat the company?” “And what about Purchasing? You’re always auditing our contracts. Don’t you trust us?” “HR has some concerns as well…” It was all just noise. I typed another message to the CEO, who was on a business trip. “Sir, could you approve my resignation today?” 3 My phone screen finally lit up. The CEO’s reply had arrived. “Don’t be ridiculous! We’re in the middle of our IPO. You can’t just quit now! Whatever your grievances are, wait until I get back. Don’t cause trouble for me.” Reading his message, the last of my hesitation vanished, replaced by a profound sense of disappointment. I had known for a long time that the CEO didn’t really care about the finance department. If he did, he wouldn’t have brushed me off every time I suggested streamlining the reimbursement process. He wouldn’t have flatly refused my proposal to provide basic financial training for the sales teams. The public shaming continued. Seeing me engrossed in my phone, ignoring her completely, Amanda’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Chris Miller, are you even listening? What is this attitude!” I locked my phone and looked up, my face impassive. But my next words stunned everyone into silence. “Director Shaw, everyone, are you finished?” The room fell quiet. I stood up and walked to Amanda’s desk. I picked up the stack of expense reports and gave them a little shake. “Since you all believe that I am inflexible and an obstacle to the company’s progress, fine.” I turned to Jessica and thrust the stack into her hands. My voice was devoid of emotion. “Jessica claims she can be more considerate of everyone’s needs. Then I will hand over all of my responsibilities to her.” “Director Shaw, do you have any objections?” Amanda was thrown off by my unexpected move. But the other department heads, especially Davies, were quick to agree. “I think that’s a great idea! Let’s give Jessica a try! Young people are more adaptable.” “Exactly! It’s time for some fresh blood!” Seeing the enthusiastic support and seizing the opportunity to put me in my place, Amanda went along with it. “Jessica, you will temporarily take over Chris’s duties. Do a good job. Don’t disappoint me.” A look of pure joy and triumph spread across Jessica’s face. She almost jumped for joy. She shot me a defiant look and puffed out her chest. “Don’t worry, Director Shaw, everyone! I will complete all tasks efficiently. You won’t have to wait!” I smiled faintly and added, “I’ll send a company-wide email stating that I have completed the handover of all my duties, and that from this point forward, you will be solely responsible for everything.” Jessica, high on her newfound power, agreed without a second thought. “I know, I know! You don’t have to tell me!” I nodded, said nothing more, and returned to my desk to slowly start packing my personal belongings.

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1 To force me to break off our engagement, my fiancé drove my father’s company into bankruptcy, saddling us with millions in debt. The shock triggered a heart attack, and my father was rushed into intensive care. As I knelt and begged my fiancé for the money to cover the surgery, my childhood friend, Stephen Blackwood, suddenly returned from abroad. He arranged for the best doctors and stayed by my side, keeping a round-the-clock vigil at my father’s bedside. But a week later, my father suffered another, more severe heart attack. To give him peace in his final moments, Stephen knelt before him and swore he would marry me, that he would take care of me for the rest of his life. After the funeral, my spirit broken, I canceled my engagement. I married Stephen instead. Five years later, I overheard a conversation between him and my ex-fiancé. “I have to hand it to you, your move was brilliant,” my ex, Mark, said. “You got that leech Lucille to give up on me willingly. But tell me, if she ever finds out you were the one who killed her father, do you think she’ll want to kill you?” My hand froze on the handle of the private lounge door. Mark’s mocking voice continued. “You’re a real piece of work, Stephen. Lucille grew up with you, treated you like a brother. I bet she’d never dream that the person who bankrupted her father’s company was you.” Mark scoffed. “If it weren’t for Ava, I never would have taken the fall for you all these years. I may have hated Lucille, but I’d never go as far as driving her father to his grave.” A glass slammed onto the table. Stephen’s voice, thick with alcohol and anger, cut through the air. “What I owe Lucille, I’ll spend my life making up for. And I only helped you back then because I wanted Ava to be happy. If you ever hurt her, if you make her shed a single tear, I’ll kill you.” Mark let out a cynical sound. “So devoted. Too bad she met me first. You’d better go back to protecting your precious Lucille. After all, you killed her father. Be careful he doesn’t come back to haunt you in your sleep.” Crash! A glass shattered against the door, and I heard footsteps approaching. I took a sharp breath and fled, stumbling down to the bar. I grabbed a glass and threw back the contents in one gulp. I never drank, and the alcohol burned my throat, bringing tears to my eyes. The words echoed in my mind, over and over. The one who ruined my father wasn’t Mark. It was Stephen, the man who paid for his surgery. The second heart attack a week later… it must have been because of something Stephen said. No wonder my father had stared so intensely at him as he took his last breath. I had thought it was a look of gratitude, of entrusting me to him. The man I had shared a bed with for five years, the husband who held me in the palm of his hand, was the one who had indirectly murdered my father. And our marriage, his years of false affection, were nothing more than his idea of compensation, a way to soothe his own guilt. It was a sick joke. Grief and rage churned inside me. My gaze fell on the empty glass in my hand when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me from behind. Stephen buried his face in my neck, his voice a warm, drunken murmur. “Lucille, you were gone so long. I missed you… Let’s go home. I love you, Lucille… I love you so, so much…” For years, whenever Stephen got drunk, he would whisper how much he loved me. His friends always said a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts, that he was utterly devoted to me. Now, it was all just a pathetic lie. I gently pushed him away and helped him into the car. He collapsed onto my lap, his brow smoothing as he fell into what looked like a deep sleep. “Ava… Ava… why didn’t you choose me? Why…” This time, I heard it clearly. The name that haunted his dreams. Ava. Ava Reed. The woman who stole my fiancé. Stephen’s one true love. He had never forgotten her. He had married me and put on this grand performance of a loving husband, all for her. I had underestimated the depths of his devotion to her. A phone clattered from his pocket. I bent to pick it up, and the screen lit up with a new message. “Thanks for covering for me tonight, Stephen. I can’t accept the necklace, it’s too much.” A second later, a notification popped up from Ava’s social media. Her new post: “Love is priceless.” The photo was of a dazzling diamond necklace, the very one that had made headlines for being sold to a mysterious billionaire for a hundred million dollars—a one-of-a-kind piece. She had posted it for me to see. This week, Stephen had been so busy he’d barely eaten, ending up in the ER with stomach pains. The moment he was discharged, he flew to London. I was so worried, thinking he was killing himself for work. Now I knew the truth. He had gone to an auction. Even doubled over in pain, he had to be there to buy the world’s most precious necklace for the woman he truly loved. My fingers moved on their own, typing in the screen lock password. The last digit entered, the phone unlocked. It was Ava’s birthday. Stephen never let me touch his phone, always talking about personal space. The first thing I saw was Ava’s radiant smile, his wallpaper. No wonder his eyes always softened whenever he unlocked his phone. I opened his photo gallery. It was meticulously organized. Ava at Ten. Ava at Eleven… Ava at Twenty-Five. Each album was filled with pictures of Ava, capturing her smile through the years. Thousands of photos, and not a single one of me. Not even one of himself. Only Ava. Just like his heart. It had only ever belonged to Ava. I opened his notes app and found his diary. [Date] Sunny. Ava scraped her knee on a branch today. It’s all my fault. I never should have planted those trees in the yard. [Date] Sunny. Ava got married today. As long as she’s happy, anything I do is worth it. My only purpose is to see her smile. [Date] Rainy. I got married. When I saw Ava in the crowd, I wished with all my heart that she was the one standing beside me. The car pulled into our driveway. I looked up at the bare yard, a chill spreading through my limbs. There used to be two peach trees there, transplanted from my childhood home. My father had planted them for me on my tenth birthday. Looking at them always made me feel like he was still with me. Then one day, their roots mysteriously rotted. Stephen held me for three days and nights as I cried. Now I knew. It was him. He was the one who destroyed the only living memory my father left me. A new message popped up from his assistant. [Mr. Blackwood, per your instructions, the final draft of your will is complete. All assets will be left to Ms. Ava Reed.] [It just needs your signature to be executed.] Through a blur of tears, I saw him again, at my father’s funeral, holding me close and making a promise. “Lucille, I’ll give you a home. Everything I have will be yours.” I put Stephen to bed, but unlike every other night, I didn’t take off his shoes or care for him. I went straight to the guest room. I closed my eyes, but all I could see were the loving gestures, the tender moments, the beautiful lies of the past five years. The next morning, I woke to sunlight streaming across my face and found Stephen gazing at me, his eyes soft. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Lucille, were you upset last night? I’m sorry, I had too much to drink. I promise it won’t happen again.” His performance was as flawless as ever. I just hummed in response, pushed him away, and went to the bathroom, washing the lingering warmth of his kiss from my skin. The breakfast table was laden with food. Before, this would have filled me with joy. But after reading his diary, I couldn’t feel anything but disgust. This was a feast of all of Ava’s favorite dishes. The sound of a key in the front door cut through the silence. Ava swept in, dressed in a pristine white dress, and sat down at the table as if she owned the place. She gave me a small smile. “Sorry to intrude, Lucille. Stephen and I have a photoshoot this morning, he invited me over for breakfast.” I said nothing, my eyes fixed on the keychain in her hand. It was identical to mine. Stephen sensed my mood and leaned in to whisper, “Ava is our best friend. It’s normal for her to have a key…” He stopped mid-sentence, his voice changing as he shot up from his seat and snatched a glass of soy milk from Ava’s hand. “Ava, you can’t drink that! How can you still forget after all these years?” Ava smiled coyly. “You’re right. I’m so lucky to have had you looking out for me all this time.” They stared at each other, a portrait of two lovers lost in their own world. I had no desire to watch. As I turned to leave, Ava called out to me. “Lucille, I remember you studied photography. Could you shoot for me today? I don’t really trust the new photographer.” I hadn’t touched a camera since my father died. He was the one who had taught me everything. The weight of it in my hands brought back the image of his frail, defeated form in his last moments. I never had the courage to press the shutter again. Stephen knew this. He had locked all my equipment away, telling me not to force it, that he would help me heal until I was ready. But now, before I could refuse, he was pushing me into the back of his car. “Lucille, you know Ava gets carsick. You’ll have to sit in the back.” He’d forgotten that my carsickness was worse. I had barely touched my breakfast, and my stomach churned the entire way. When we arrived, Stephen carefully held the hem of Ava’s dress as he escorted her into the studio. I leaned against the car, gasping for fresh air. “Lucille, the shoot is about to start,” Stephen said, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside. “Be good. Don’t be difficult. This is important for Ava and for Blackwood Enterprises.” I stumbled, nearly falling. Holding the camera after five years felt alien and terrifying. My hands trembled. I fought back the waves of grief and forced myself to shoot. During a break, Ava and I were alone in the studio. She flipped through the photos, a smirk on her face. “You’re just as useless as your father, Lucille. Can’t do anything right. Like father, like daughter.” My nails dug into my palms, my body shaking with a rage that was about to erupt. Slap! A sharp, stinging pain exploded across my cheek. Ava shook her hand, looking down at me with contempt. “You’re so shameless, Lucille. I can’t believe after Mark dumped you, you immediately latched onto Stephen. What makes you think you’re worthy of him? Let me tell you, both Mark and Stephen belong to me. You are not worthy.” My head was still reeling from the blow when she suddenly grabbed my hand, slapped herself across the face with it, and then crumpled to the floor. She clutched her cheek, her eyes welling with tears, a perfect picture of a damsel in distress. “Lucille, I didn’t say the photos were bad,” she sobbed. “I just wanted you to try a different angle… If you didn’t want to, you could have just said so…” The door opened and Stephen dropped the water bottle he was holding. He rushed past me, kneeling to check on Ava. “Stephen, I’m fine,” she whimpered. “Please don’t blame Lucille. She didn’t mean it. I just lost my balance.” “Ava, you’re too kind! You don’t have to cover for her, I saw the whole thing!” Stephen helped her up as if she were made of porcelain, cradling her in his arms. He turned to me, his face contorted with a fury I had never seen in our five years of marriage. “Lucille, apologize to Ava! Have I been so easy on you these five years that you’ve turned into this venomous woman?” “You know how important her face is to her!” he raged, his eyes blind to the red handprint swelling on my own cheek. I lifted my head, my voice steady. “The one who should apologize is Ava, not me. She brought up my father. Stephen, speaking of my father, is there anything you’d like to apologize for?” A flicker of shock crossed his eyes. “If it weren’t for me back then, Dad would have been gone even sooner. Lucille, I promised him I would take care of you for the rest of your life, but that was on the condition that you wouldn’t hurt Ava.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I shouldn’t have expected anything. The world went black, and I collapsed. When I woke, the sterile smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils. A nurse was removing an IV from my arm. “Congratulations, you’re pregnant. You’re quite weak, so you need to avoid stress and eat well.” My hand instinctively went to my belly. For five years, I had wanted a child with Stephen. I never imagined it would happen now. My phone buzzed. It was a text from him. [The doctor said you’ll be fine with some rest.] [As soon as you apologize to Ava, I’ll come and take you home.] I smiled weakly and turned off the phone. “Miss, the doctor has scheduled another check-up for you. Please come with me.” I followed the nurse, but she led me to a stairwell. I was about to ask why when Ava’s voice came from behind me. “I heard you’re pregnant. I underestimated you, Lucille. Do you know why you haven’t had a child in five years?” I turned to face her triumphant gaze. “Because I told Stephen I didn’t want you to have one. The ‘vitamins’ he fed you every day? They were birth control pills.” She watched me, waiting for me to break. But I just said, “I see.” I started to walk past her, but a sudden force shoved me from behind. I tumbled down the stairs, a searing pain shooting through my entire body. I looked down and saw the crimson stain spreading beneath me. I had lost my baby. When I came to after the procedure, I placed the divorce papers on the hospital bed. I walked out, got into a taxi, and went to the airport. Just before I boarded the plane, a final message from Stephen appeared on my screen. [I can’t believe you’d go after Ava again. Apologize and stop this nonsense. Don’t make me force you.]

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1 Five years into my marriage, I did something incredibly stupid. I sent Sebastian Thorne’s precious little bird packing, shipping her out of the country in the desperate hope that he’d finally come back to me. He didn’t say a word when he found out. Instead, he bankrupted my family in an instant. Forced my father to his knees. My mother’s hair seemed to turn gray overnight from the shock. And now, here he was, standing before me, his face a thundercloud, ready to make me pay. “Maddie,” he sneered, “I suppose I was too good to you. Let you forget your place.” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Now, it’s your turn to learn what it feels like to wish you were dead.” … After he spat those words, I finally lifted my head to look at him. We’d been in love for four years, married for five. We had given each other the best years of our youth. I never imagined it would come to this. My hand instinctively went to my belly, where our child had been growing for nearly three months. But it was as if Sebastian couldn’t see it, or didn’t care. His eyes were cold, his voice a low growl. “I’ll give you one last chance. Where is she?” I wanted to laugh, a bitter, broken sound. But my one act of defiance had already cost my family everything. “Let my parents go, and I’ll tell you.” Sebastian nodded slowly. He closed the distance between us in a few predatory steps. Before I could react, his hand shot out, clamping around my neck like a vise. He forced my head back, making me stare into his furious eyes. “Don’t push it, Maddie.” “Finding Mia is just a matter of time. What right do you have to bargain with me?” The brutal pressure on my throat made me gag, a wave of nausea washing over me. My face flushed a deep crimson, veins bulging on my temples as air scraped my lungs. I bit down hard, terror and despair clawing at me, but I forced the words out through a strangled rasp. “So that gives you the right… to make my father kneel to you?!” “He’s my father!” Sebastian’s expression remained a mask of cold indifference, his grip inhumanly strong. Tears welled in my eyes, but I held his gaze, staring into the black, crazed depths of his. I had no doubt he would kill me, right here, for another woman. Just as my vision started to black out, he released me. I collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air, my body trembling uncontrollably from the aftermath of fear. In that single, terrifying moment, the dam of my emotions broke. A torrent of memories, of all our shared moments, flooded my mind. I began to sob, great, gut-wrenching wails for a past I could never get back, for this hopeless, suffocating marriage. Most of all, I wept for the pathetic woman I had become. Sebastian just stood there, watching me with cold, detached eyes. He didn’t even give me a moment to catch my breath before he lunged forward again, grabbing my chin and tilting my face up to his. His voice was a chilling whisper. “I’ll ask you one last time. Where did you send my Mia?” Sebastian left. The moment I gave him the information, he was out the door without a backward glance. I saw it clearly—the wave of joyful relief that washed over his face. My husband was truly, utterly mad for another woman. I wiped my tears and immediately called my parents, telling them to pack. We had to leave tonight. I expected my father to yell, to blame me, but all I heard was his weary, choked voice. “Our sweet Maddie… you’ve suffered so much. Dad doesn’t blame you. We’ll just leave. It’s okay.” After hanging up, I was consumed by a tidal wave of guilt and despair. Sebastian and I had fallen in love in college and married right after graduation. The Thornes were an empire, and for my father, our marriage was a connection he’d never dreamed of. He’d worried, of course, that I’d be bullied, that my family’s modest standing would leave me without support. Back then, I’d promised him with all the certainty of a young girl in love that Sebastian would never let me suffer. He adored me too much. And he had. He showered me with gifts for every occasion, proudly introducing me to his circle of friends. When we were apart, he’d text constantly, telling me how much he missed me. He’d get jealous if another man so much as looked at me, his eyes turning red with anger. “You know, Maddie,” he once told me, “the Thornes are all twisted monsters. You’re the only one who’s ever taught me what love is.” He was insecure, constantly needing reassurance of my love. I would hold him for hours, my heart aching for him, until he finally fell into a peaceful sleep in my arms. I thought we would be like that forever. So when his affection suddenly vanished, replaced by an icy indifference, I panicked. Mia was a fresh college graduate. I first heard her name from Sebastian’s executive assistant. She’d laughed about it. “These young girls have no creativity anymore. The whole ‘spilling coffee on the CEO’ cliché is so outdated, don’t you think?” I’d listened, thinking it was just a joke. I didn’t pay it much mind. But soon after, Mia was made Sebastian’s personal assistant, an unprecedented move. He started taking her horseback riding. When she couldn’t ride, he would pull her into the saddle in front of him, the two of them sharing a horse as it ambled along the trail. Mia was naive about the cutthroat world of business, so Sebastian patiently guided her, even teaching her how to prepare his tea just the way he liked it. Once, a crass business partner made a suggestive joke about her. Sebastian, ever the picture of cool composure, beat the man bloody and put him in the hospital. He made no effort to hide it. His adoration for Mia was public knowledge. By the time the rumors reached me, they were already attending galas hand-in-hand, kissing openly while friends cheered them on. Someone sent me a photo. That was the first time I ever lost my temper with Sebastian. He just sat in his leather throne of an office chair, watching me silently, his eyes accusing me of making a scene. “Maddie, you’re almost thirty. Why are you competing with a young girl?” “When you were in your early twenties, I doted on you just the same, didn’t I?” In that moment, I felt like I’d been plunged into freezing water. I finally understood. Sebastian’s love was constant, in a way. He was only ever in love with youth, and I had aged out of his affection. I was going to file for divorce, but then I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to fight for my child, for my family, one last time. So I had my father hire some people to quietly send Mia abroad. The result was catastrophic. Nine years of love, of history, and I meant nothing to him. I had lost, utterly and completely. My father told me to give him three days. Having made an enemy of the Thornes, there was no place left for us in this country. I took the opportunity to schedule an abortion for that same day. If the love was gone, there was no reason to keep Sebastian’s child. There were plenty of younger girls who would be lining up to bear his children anyway. But the doctor told me the pregnancy was too far along for a simple procedure; it would have to be an induction, which required a hospital stay. With only three days left in the city, I had no choice but to put it off. On the way back, I tried to consult with a divorce lawyer. When they heard the name Sebastian Thorne, they all backed away. “Mrs. Thorne,” one of them said gently, “Mr. Thorne’s company has a top-tier legal team. Frankly, we’re out of our league.” I understood. I didn’t press him. After marrying Sebastian, I had become a housewife at his request. He said he didn’t want me working, and I had foolishly listened for five years. My entire social circle was curated by him; I had no one to turn to for help. It didn’t matter. Once he had Mia back, I figured he’d be more than happy to sign the divorce papers. I did a quick inventory of the house. I left all the expensive items, packing only some seasonal clothes and my personal documents. Pregnancy had left me perpetually exhausted. That evening, while sorting through things, I fell asleep right on the sofa. The next morning, the sound of the front door opening startled me awake. I shot up, my heart pounding. I couldn’t believe it. Sebastian was back. And he wasn’t alone. He was holding a young woman’s hand—Mia. She was breathtakingly beautiful, even more so than in her pictures. Her hands were full of shopping bags from high-end boutiques, and the diamonds on her heels nearly blinded me. He had obviously won her back. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I hadn’t expected him to return so quickly. I unconsciously touched my neck, the phantom sensation of his grip returning, and a fresh wave of fear washed over me. I swallowed hard and forced myself to stand up. Sebastian led Mia right up to me. He smiled tenderly at her, brushing a stray hair from her face, then turned to me, his expression instantly turning flat and cold. “Maddie. Apologize to Mia.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Even after everything—after he’d destroyed my family, after he’d tried to strangle me just yesterday—I thought he couldn’t sink any lower. Now he wanted me to apologize to his mistress? Seeing me frozen in shock, he grabbed my chin again, forcing my head to face Mia. “Didn’t you hear me? I said, apologize to Mia.” Sebastian was a businessman. He knew exactly how to shatter a person. Even if that person was the wife who had loved him for nearly a decade. Mia hadn’t even looked at me since she walked in. She kept her eyes downcast, her lips pressed into a slight pout. She didn’t have to say a word to look like a victim, a fragile thing that needed protecting. “Sebastian, please, you don’t have to do this,” she murmured. “My position… it’s not right. This sister of yours must hate me, and I guess she has every right to.” As she said it, I saw her eyes flick upward, shooting a quick, triumphant glare in my direction. Then she was back to tugging on Sebastian’s sleeve. “Sebastian, I’m a little tired. I’d like to rest.” He kissed her cheek, his voice softening. “Of course. Go on, get some rest in the bedroom.” Mia’s wide eyes darted toward me. “But this is your house. Where am I supposed to rest?” Without a word, Sebastian led her toward our master bedroom. The implication was a slap in the face. My entire body was shaking. I clenched my jaw so hard it ached, fighting the urge to scream, to curse, to tear this house apart. I took a deep, shuddering breath, watching as he gently settled her into our room. Only when the door was closed did I find my voice. It came out as a raw, hoarse whisper directed at his back. “Sebastian, let’s get a divorce.” “You’ve trampled on my dignity like it’s trash. You’ve destroyed my parents’ life’s work.” I stared at him with red-rimmed eyes, my voice gaining a fragile strength. “This was all my fault. My mistake was being blind enough to ever love you.” At this, Sebastian actually raised an eyebrow. He sauntered back over to me, his hands in his pockets, and leaned in close, his handsome face inches from mine. His expression was cruel, and held a look I couldn’t decipher—something between malice and a dark, twisted amusement.

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1 The city’s golden boy got shot down by the campus queen, so he offered to pay me, the shot girl, to drink with him. I was about to refuse when my beat-up old phone suddenly rang. “Mom, don’t be an idiot. This is your one shot at marrying into money.” The little girl’s voice, startlingly clear, came through the speaker. She claimed to be my daughter from ten years in the future. “Just have one drink with the prince, and you’ll get a black card. Instantly.” “If you get all high and mighty and turn him down, in ten years, you’ll be dragging me to sleep under a bridge!” I froze. Get rich just by having a drink? Why didn’t you say so sooner? I hung up and plopped down next to the golden boy, Conrad Sterling. “I’ll drink with you all night long,” I declared. “We’re not leaving ’til one of us is under the table.” … With that, I grabbed Conrad’s glass and downed it in one go. Impressed by my nerve, he pulled out a black card and slapped it on the table in front of me. “Keep me company tonight, and this card is yours. Spend whatever you want.” My eyes lit up. I reached for it, but the campus queen, Melanie, smacked it out of my hand. “Sophie, you have no shame, do you? You’re actually going to take it?” “Let me warn you,” she sneered, “just because I don’t want him, doesn’t mean you can have what’s left.” I ignored her, scrambling on the floor to find the card. Conrad saw this and a smug smile spread across his face. “See that, Melanie? You might not want it, but plenty of people do!” “I’m done being your simp. Tonight, Sophie is all I want.” Melanie shot me a venomous glare before storming off. Clutching the black card, I was so overcome with emotion I could have cried. The girl claiming to be my future daughter… she wasn’t lying. She’d told me on the phone that the one thing Conrad couldn’t stand right now was rejection. If I just accepted his offer, I’d get the black card and be able to pay my rent and tuition. I’d thought it was some new kind of scam, but I was already so broke I was selling shots in a bar. What did I have to lose? Now, with the card in my hand, I finally believed her. She really was my daughter from the future. Conrad was still studying me, and I tried to remember what my daughter had said. “The prince has a huge ego. He loves to be flattered.” “When he’s drunk, make sure you take him back to your apartment.” I brushed myself off, stood up, and gave Conrad my sweetest smile. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling. It’s the honor of a lifetime to meet someone so generous.” My flattery worked. He was so pleased that he bought out my entire sales quota for the night. He got hammered, ranting about how Melanie had no taste. I played along, stroking his ego. “It’s her loss, passing up on a great man like you.” “She’s the one with no taste, no class. Don’t you ever doubt yourself because of her. You’re amazing.” Meanwhile, I was nursing apple juice, matching him glass for glass. Once he was completely wasted, I hoisted him onto my back and hauled him to my tiny rental. My phone rang again. “The prince is a total germaphobe. Get him cleaned up, fast.” “He’s been starved for affection his whole life. You have to use this opportunity to show him what a warm, loving home feels like.” I couldn’t help but ask, “How do you know so much? And how are you even calling me?” My daughter’s little voice sounded frantic. “I can’t explain much. Just answer the phone whenever I call and do exactly what I say.” “Otherwise, my future is eating moldy bread, and yours is starving to death under a bridge.” She also gave me a solemn warning: I had to protect this phone at all costs. It was the only way she could contact me. Looking at Conrad, sleeping soundly, I made a promise to myself. I would seize this chance and change our destiny. 2 The next morning, I placed a bowl of hangover soup in front of Conrad. “I got up early to make this for you. It’ll help with your headache.” “I also made some porridge and pancakes. You can have some if you’d like.” The aroma of the food filled the small room, and Conrad’s eyes suddenly turned red. “Thank you for taking care of me. It’s… it’s been a long time since anyone was this kind to me.” My own eyes welled with tears. “No, thank you.” “I was about to be evicted for overdue rent. Your card saved the only home I have.” He glanced around at the shabby surroundings. “Why do you live in a place like this?” When he learned I was an orphan who had put herself through grad school by working odd jobs, like selling shots at the bar, his expression softened with a mixture of pride and protectiveness. “Keep the card,” he said. “You don’t have to pay me back. Use it for whatever you need.” “I was going to give it to Melanie anyway, and she would have just thrown it back in my face. It’s better off with someone who actually needs it.” During breakfast, Conrad devoured everything, praising my cooking nonstop. I seized the opportunity. “If you don’t mind how simple this place is, you’re welcome to come over for a home-cooked meal anytime.” Just as my daughter had said, he was desperate for affection. He immediately added me as a contact and promised he’d visit often. The moment he left, my daughter called. “See? I told you not to put onions in the pancakes! Perfect for the prince’s taste, right?” “Now, use that card to invest in yourself. Especially your hair! You can’t marry into a rich family with frizzy hair like that!” Don’t you worry, my sweet girl. I am the most coachable mom in the world. That day, I quit my job at the bar and signed up for everything: salon treatments, a gym membership, a whole new wardrobe. Around dinnertime, my daughter’s voice chirped through the phone again. “Don’t expect the prince to chase you. He won’t lower himself.” “You have to be proactive. He loves it when people fuss over him.” I immediately sent Conrad a text: [Make sure you eat a proper meal after drinking so much. You don’t want to get a stomachache.] He replied instantly. He complained that his office only had terrible takeout options, nothing as good as my pancakes. I typed back with a smile: [If you don’t mind, you could come over for a simple dinner tonight.] And so, that evening, I saw Conrad again. He polished off every last bite of the savory fish soup and stir-fried pork I made. From that day on, my tiny apartment became Conrad’s private diner. He noticed the changes in me—my new confidence, my polished appearance. Sometimes, I’d even use my graduate-level knowledge to offer him advice on his business dealings. It didn’t take long for us to grow closer. He offered to help me find a new place to live. “I’ve picked out an apartment for you near my office. It’ll be easier for me to come over for dinner every day, and you’ll be more comfortable.” When my daughter heard, she was even more excited than I was. “Congratulations, Mom! One step closer to marrying into the family!” “But first loves are hard to forget. You need to make him give up on Melanie for good.” After some careful thought, I anonymously paid a few students to spread a rumor around campus. “Did you hear? Conrad Sterling is seeing that Sophie girl now.” “He even bought her an apartment. I guess she’s his new little canary.” As I expected, three days later, Melanie cornered me. “Everyone, come look!” she shouted, making a scene. “This is Sophie! She acts all innocent and pure, but behind closed doors, she’s the biggest slut of them all!” 3 All eyes turned to me, a mixture of shock and judgment on their faces. Melanie scoffed. “You think sleeping with him a few times will make him fall for you? Dream on! He’s just using you to make me jealous!” “Once he’s tired of you, let’s see who’s crying then.” Amidst the whispers, I let my eyes fill with tears, a single, perfect drop tracing a path down my cheek. Melanie gritted her teeth. “You manipulative bitch. Who are you putting on this little pity show for?” Just then, a cold voice cut through the crowd. “Melanie, I never knew you were such a vicious person.” Seeing the utter disappointment in Conrad’s eyes, I fought to hide a triumphant smile. Ever since I’d started the rumors, I’d been feigning illness, asking Conrad to pick me up from campus every day. I had orchestrated this entire scene for him to witness. “Melanie, let’s just pretend I never liked you,” he said, his voice flat. “I was wrong about you.” Melanie stomped her foot in frustration. “Stop pretending, Conrad! I know you’re just using her to get to me!” “Break up with her right now, and I’ll consider giving you another chance to chase me!” Her arrogant, condescending tone was the final straw. “Shut up!” Conrad roared. He pulled me behind him, his voice booming with authority. “Sophie is a decent, hardworking woman. If I hear one more person spreading rumors about her, they’ll be hearing from my legal team.” A gasp went through the crowd as Conrad grabbed my hand and led me to his Rolls-Royce. He gently wiped my tears away. “I should have made things clear with Melanie sooner. Then you wouldn’t have had to go through this.” I squeezed his hand, my voice trembling. “Thank you for defending me. I must have done something truly good in a past life to deserve someone as wonderful as you.” Conrad’s gaze intensified, and the air between us crackled with a new, charged energy. After that day, our relationship deepened. Once I moved into the new apartment, he spent more and more time with me, eating almost every meal at my place. Whenever our bodies accidentally brushed against each other, a faint blush would creep up his neck. Even though I’d bought a new smartphone, I treasured my old, beat-up one. Thanks to my daily calls with my daughter, everything was going according to plan. But I was growing more and more curious about this sweet, clever girl of mine. “Where am I, ten years from now? And who’s your father?” “Are you still eating moldy bread? If I marry Conrad, will your life change instantly?” But every time, her answer was the same. “Time is short. I’ll tell you everything later.” “Just remember, the only way you’ll be happy is if you marry Conrad!” But to marry him, I had to break the comfortable pattern we’d fallen into and make our relationship official. I wracked my brain, searching for an opening. One day, as I was leaving a spa, a lavishly dressed woman stopped me, her eyes raking over me with disdain. “So you’re the shot girl who seduced my son?” 4 I was completely blindsided by Conrad’s mother. Both he and my daughter had told me that his father had passed away young, and his mother had always been consumed by her career, paying little attention to him. I never thought she would be an obstacle. Seeing my stunned silence, she sneered. “Just as I thought. A classless nobody from the sticks.” She threw a stack of papers in my face. “A dirty little shot girl, dreaming of climbing into the Sterling family?” “I will not let my son ruin the family name with a woman like you.” I noticed her assistant in the background, secretly filming with her phone. Suddenly, I realized. This was it. This was my chance to seal the deal with Conrad. I immediately schooled my features into an expression of righteous indignation. “Mrs. Sterling, you can humiliate me, but you can’t hurt Conrad!” “He’s never known what a warm home feels like. Now that he’s finally found some happiness, you want to tear it away from him.” “You’re his mother! How can you be so cruel?” Her face flushed with anger. “You’re an orphan. What gives you the right to speak to me like that?” “Don’t push your luck. Here’s ten million dollars. Get out of his life. Now.” I stood my ground, my voice firm. “I’m not saying this for money! I’m saying it because I care about him!” “I will never leave Conrad. I’m not like you. I could never bear to see him all alone!” Enraged, she slapped me across the face. A sharp, stinging pain bloomed on my cheek, but inside, I was ecstatic. This was it. I’d won. She pointed a finger in my face, spewing a torrent of insults. Before she left, she shot me one last warning. “You think you can steal my son? It’s not that easy!” The moment she was gone, my daughter called, her voice full of concern. “Mom, does your face hurt? I’ll blow on it for you.” “You’re so smart, Mom! His mother wanted to film you being a gold digger, but you completely turned it around on her.” “Just you wait. The prince will be there any minute to confess his love!” I carefully preserved the red handprint on my cheek, waiting anxiously. And once again, my amazing daughter’s prediction came true. Less than half an hour later, Conrad burst in. Seeing the mark on my face, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice choked with tears. “I saw the video… I’m so moved… This is the first time anyone has ever chosen me, the first time anyone has ever stood up for me.” “Be my girlfriend, Sophie. I promise I’ll love you with all my heart.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and passionately returned his confession. To show his commitment after we made it official, Conrad immediately transferred the apartment deed into my name. He then started planning a grand banquet, declaring he would officially announce our relationship to the world and show his mother he was serious. My daughter could barely contain her excitement. “After the banquet, you’ll be the prince’s fiancée, the envy of the whole world!” “So, Mom, when are you and the prince going to make a baby? I can’t wait to meet you!” A wave of tenderness washed over me. My sweet girl, I can’t wait to meet you, either. After all, without her calls, none of this would have happened. Filled with anticipation, I got into the car headed for the banquet. But when I walked into the hall, I froze. It wasn’t Conrad waiting for me. It was his mother. And Melanie. Seeing the malicious glint in Melanie’s eyes, a jolt of fear shot through me. At the same moment, my phone began to ring frantically. “Mom, you need to get out of there right now—” Before my daughter could finish, Melanie lunged forward and snatched the phone from my hand. “As long as I’m here, you will never marry Conrad Sterling!” CRASH. The phone shattered into a million pieces on the marble floor.

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My boyfriend, Leo, was raised so strictly he was practically a saint. Kissing and cuddling were fine, but anything further was strictly off-limits. It drove me crazy, especially when I could see the dark fire burning in his eyes, see his Adam’s apple bob and weave. I couldn’t resist the allure of this perfect, domestic god. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. The day it happened, Leo’s twin brother, Jake, was pounding on the bedroom door, his voice a raw, desperate roar, begging me to stop. Seriously, who acts like such a controlling patriarch these days? The more he protested, the wilder I got, determined to lavish all my affection on Leo right then and there. When I finally opened the door, I found his brother slumped against the wall, a damp patch spreading between his legs. He was completely drained, and the look he gave me… it was anything but normal. Why did he look like he’d been the one thoroughly… loved? 1 My boyfriend, Leo, is ridiculously hot. His face is a masterpiece, and his body is even better. He’s nearly six-foot-three, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and legs for days. His chest is big enough to get lost in, and to top it all off, he’s emotionally stable, endlessly patient, and does all the housework. Landing a guy like him, I must have saved the universe in a past life. There was just one tiny problem: no sex. And with a body like that, telling me to keep my hands to myself was basically torture. Kisses were fine. Cuddles were great. I could even nuzzle his pecs all I wanted. But his belt buckle was a line I could not cross. Even when he was hard as a rock, standing at full attention, he’d just grit his teeth and say no. He couldn’t? If that level of hardness wasn’t good enough, then no man on earth was. Every single time, he’d end up in the shower, blasting himself with cold water. Wasn’t he worried about long-term side effects? “Leo~” I whined, rolling around on the bed. “You can’t do this to me! How can you be so indifferent with a goddess like me right here?” “I’m going to throw a tantrum!” He sighed, pulling me into his arms. “Nina, we can’t.” I buried my face in his chest, rubbing against him while grumbling, “But why not? Why, why, why…” Another chaste night passed. The next morning, he was holding me tight in his sleep, his body unconsciously grinding against me, the morning wood pressing uncomfortably into my backside. “Leo…” He jolted awake, instantly aware, and bolted for the bathroom to cool down. …With that kind of self-control, the man could achieve anything. That morning, I launched several surprise attacks. I was defeated every time. His belt, I swear, was forged in the fires of Mount Doom. I ground my teeth in silent frustration. “You promised we’d wait until after we were married.” Right. I had. Back then, I thought a girl should be demure. And it was just a relationship; we could break up at any time. Sex wasn’t a big deal. But after two years together, I was completely in love with him. When my landlord kicked me out a while back, he insisted I move in with him. The man owned at least five properties, if not ten. He was generous, and I accepted. To soothe my pride, he let me pay him market-rate rent, but then he’d just turn around and spend it all on gifts for me. Furniture, rugs, matching pajamas—anything he thought was cute, he bought to decorate our little nest. He kept the fridge stuffed to the gills. He loved cooking for me. He was just too good. A twenty-four-carat gold boyfriend, thoughtful in every way, providing all the emotional and financial support a girl could dream of. And let’s not forget that body. The first time I saw him shirtless, I just about short-circuited. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, and those shockingly massive pecs—which, I might add, were a lovely shade of pink. Who could possibly resist that? He’d stand in the kitchen, shirtless, wearing a pink apron. The ultimate house-husband fantasy. His chest looked so heavy. It was only fair that I help support it, right? I’d sneak up behind him, pressing my face into the groove of his spine, my hands creeping under the apron to roam free. He’d endure it, his breath growing ragged, before spinning around and pinning me against the counter for a deep, bruising kiss. My fingers would trail down his stomach, over the neatly arranged abs where thick veins converged, all leading south. I’m a healthy woman with normal hormones. It’s natural for me to want him. But that damned belt buckle was a fortress. The moment he sensed my intentions, he’d snap out of his haze. No meant no. And even foreplay was a no-go. Damn it. He was like a hero from one of those super chaste romance novels, guarding his virtue with his life. He’d carry me to the sofa, set me down gently, then retreat a safe distance away, panting as he tried to compose himself. If it weren’t for the persistent bulge in his pants, I might have thought he felt nothing at all. I was out of ideas. I collapsed onto the sofa and wailed, “Woe is me, a young widow! I can look, but I can’t touch…” He moved closer to comfort me, but he stayed poised, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. …The humiliation! Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I draped myself over the back of the sofa to watch him answer it. Standing outside was a mirror image of Leo—his twin brother, Jake. Jake was identical to Leo in height and looks, but I’d never mistaken them. Their auras were polar opposites. He exclusively wore custom-tailored suits, the crisp navy fabric of this one looking cold and severe in the morning light. His expression was icy and arrogant, and he always looked at me with a critical eye. Their parents had died in a plane crash, leaving the two of them to run a massive corporation. As the older brother, Jake shouldered more of the burden, which made him more efficient, more demanding, and more… Well, frankly, he just didn’t like me. Jake’s gaze swept past Leo and landed on me. He looked at me like he was assessing a flawed item at an auction. His eyes traveled from my messy hair down to my bare feet, finally settling on the faint red mark on my collarbone. Instinctively, I pulled the collar of my robe higher. The fabric brushed against the love bite, and I let out a soft hiss. “It seems I’ve interrupted your… morning exercise,” Jake’s voice was an octave lower than Leo’s, laced with the kind of passive aggression you’d expect from a wicked mother-in-law. Leo shifted, completely blocking me from view. “What is it, Jake?” “…You stayed over again last night?” Leo looked down, guilty, as Jake’s glare condemned him. “Be home by eight tonight. No excuses.” I heard that. I ground my teeth. It was always like this. His brother acted like some feudal lord. Leo was twenty-five, and he still had a curfew! With a brother-in-law like him, I was never going to get to first base. I hated him! Jake left after only saying those two things, shooting one last withering glance in my direction. Leo turned to me, an apology on his face. Before he could take a step, I pointed a finger at him. “Mama’s boy!” I accused. Then I pointed toward the door. “Controlling patriarch!” He took my hand, lifting it to his lips for a soft kiss. “There’s a reason for all this.” I didn’t care what his reason was. The pressure was insane. No in-laws, but a brother-in-law who watched your every move. The thought of marrying into this family, of that coffin-faced jerk lecturing both of us at once, made my blood boil. “After we’re married, I’m not living at the family estate.” “Of course,” he agreed instantly. “We’ll live in whichever house you like.” I eyed him suspiciously. “And he’ll just let us be free?” He sighed. “It’s not that he’s controlling, he’s…” And there it was again. He always clammed up at the important part. Enraged, I lunged at him, ready to bite him. If you’re not going to use that tongue, I’ll just bite it off! He caught me, letting me plunder his mouth. Our bodies knew each other so well; in moments, he was swelling against me. He fought for control, about to head for another cold shower, but I clung to him like an octopus, refusing to let go. I ground my hips against his just twice, and a strangled gasp escaped him. His large hands clamped onto me, holding me steady. “Nina, be good.” 2 Watching him disappear into the bathroom, I hugged my knees in defeat. Damn it. I had to test his stamina before we got married. What if I ended up with a two-pump chump? My future happiness was at stake! So, I did something a little devious. I slipped a little something into his favorite tea. After his shower, he downed half the cup. A few minutes later, he was yawning, complaining of being tired, and passed out in the guest room. Heh heh heh. You’re all mine now. I pulled out the handcuffs I’d bought ages ago and secured his wrists firmly to the headboard. Forcing myself on someone… It was my first time, and in broad daylight, no less. I was actually a little shy… Leo was sleeping soundly, a lock of hair falling over his brow. His features were relaxed, his nose straight and high, and his lips still bore the mark from where I’d bitten him. My eyes drifted down. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, that gorgeous body. His pale skin seemed to glow under the lights, and yes, everything was still a perfect, tender pink. The lean muscle stretched over his six-foot-three frame was a symphony of alluring lines. My gaze crept lower. I knew… I knew the kind of explosive power coiled in those abs. I had been craving him for so long. Looks, personality, family background—he had it all. I just needed to confirm this one last thing… and he’d be the perfect husband. I tentatively poked his pec with my finger. It was soft… He was really out. Usually, whenever I touched him, his muscles would tense up instantly. This was my only chance to feel his chest when it was relaxed. I kneaded his pecs for a while, like a cat making biscuits, then leaned in for a few eager licks before rubbing my face against him. Sleeping Leo was so cute. So perfect. He smelled so good after his shower. Mwah, mwah, mwah~ I draped myself over him, nuzzling and rubbing. It felt incredible to be this close without any resistance. It didn’t take long for little Leo to wake up, pressing hard against my stomach. I watched his face carefully. His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t wake up. Okay… I’m going for it… My fingertips traced the line down the center of his abs, slowly crossing the border… My face was burning, but I dutifully got to work, starting a timer in my head. Just as I was getting into a rhythm, Leo’s phone buzzed. The caller ID… Jake! I freed one hand and answered. “What’s up, Jake? Leo’s asleep.” For some reason, Jake was breathing heavily on the other end. Was he at the gym or something? “I’m in a meeting. Don’t you two…” My nerves got the better of me, and I squeezed a little too hard. A choked gasp echoed through the phone. …What the hell? What was he doing? “Stop…” I slammed the phone down, my ears turning scarlet. What kind of freak gets winded while talking to me on the phone? I looked back at Leo, who seemed so pitifully neglected. I leaned in to give him a kiss, just getting back into the swing of things when the phone started ringing again. Furious, I just switched it off. Finally, I could properly ravish… I mean, properly cherish my little Leo. Even in his sleep, he was restless, his breathing ragged. His hands strained against the cuffs, making them clink and rattle. His body twisted, as if trying to escape. I was relentless. More than ten minutes had passed. You can do it, Leo. His eyelids fluttered. The stimulation must have been too much, because he woke up. “Nina… you…” His voice was unbelievably hoarse. He was completely consumed by desire, yet he still asked me to stop. I was just helping him out. What was the big deal? Other guys would beg for this. Annoyed, I started biting him playfully all over, slowly licking my way up to his chest. That was his favorite spot. I teased him with the tip of my tongue, flicking and sucking intermittently. His eyes glazed over, his long legs tensed, and he kicked the sheets into a tangled mess. “Nina… don’t…” His pleas only fueled my fire. I grew bolder, more reckless, until his body went rigid, stretched to its absolute limit. I checked the time. Twenty-five minutes. Suddenly, a loud banging came from the front door. “Leo, open up!” Damn it! How did Jake get here so fast?! I looked at Leo. He was holding back, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He looked so fragile and vulnerable. My sweet, sweet boy… To hell with it. Jake didn’t have a key; he couldn’t get in. I started up again. “Does it turn you on,” I whispered, “doing this with your brother right outside?” Leo bit his lip, refusing to make a sound, but a single tear traced a path down his temple. He was so adorable. I wanted to absolutely ruin him. With the rhythmic pounding on the door as our soundtrack, I pulled out all the stops. We were pushing forty minutes. He stopped telling me no. Instead, he started moving with me, his eyes clouded with a lust so thick there wasn’t a trace of clarity left. When I paused for a moment to tease him, his voice cracked with a sob. “Please, Nina, I’m begging you…” “Please… help me…” Finally, he let out a muffled cry. His jaw tilted back, the tendons in his neck standing out in sharp relief. His chest was flushed a deep crimson. It was an incredibly erotic sight. I glanced at the time. Sixty-two minutes. I rewarded him with a couple of soft kisses before running to open the door. The hallway was brightly lit. Jake was slumped against the wall, completely limp, as if all his strength had deserted him. He was panting, his temples slick with sweat. Even stranger, there was a dark, wet patch on the front of his trousers. He didn’t even have the energy to hide it. His eyes were vacant, staring blankly at me. “Jake?” I reached out to help him up. What was wrong with him? His hand suddenly shot out and gripped my arm. Before I could react, he yanked me down. I gasped as I fell, landing in a searingly hot embrace. The air was thick with a cloying, debauched scent. “You…” The rest of my words were swallowed by a sudden, punishing kiss. His arm clamped around me like a steel band while his other hand cupped the back of my neck, his grip so strong there was no chance of escape. This kiss was a punishment, fierce and brutal, and the coppery taste of blood soon filled my mouth. My eyes flew open. The face so close to mine was ninety percent identical to Leo’s, but the emotion churning in those eyes was entirely different. This was naked possessiveness, a madness that had been suppressed for far too long. In the shadows of his lashes lurked a deep, predatory aggression. “Mmph… let go!” During a brief gasp for air, I shoved him with all my might. The sharp crack of a slap echoed in the hallway. His head snapped to the side, his dark hair falling over his eyes. “What is wrong with you?!” I scrambled back, wiping my swollen lips, my heart hammering against my ribs. He slowly turned his head back. A clear, red handprint was already blooming on his cheek. I had hit him with everything I had, but I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth lift into a smile. “What’s wrong with me?” He advanced on me, the shadow in his trousers rising again. “When you were touching that, I told you to stop. Why didn’t you?” What was he talking about? When had I ever touched him? “Nina, what’s going on?” Leo’s voice called from inside the apartment. I gritted my teeth and shot Jake a glare, warning him to keep his mouth shut. Then I went back inside to uncuff Leo. 3 While Leo got dressed, Jake used the guest bathroom to sort himself out. A few minutes later, he emerged looking perfectly composed again, that mask of cool detachment firmly back in place. The two brothers met in the entryway. For a moment, the air crackled with tension. They stood facing each other like reflections in a mirror. Leo was in casual clothes, Jake in his sharp suit. One’s eyes held a warning, the other’s were frosty as ice. They shared the same face, but right now, they couldn’t be more different. I looked from one to the other, my toes curling in my shoes from the sheer awkwardness. I felt a pang of guilt, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. My mind was a tangled mess. I tried to straighten it out. I did… things… with my boyfriend. His brother somehow knew we were doing it. I lavished affection on my boyfriend, and his brother looked like he was the one who received it. …Something was clicking into place, a conclusion so bizarre I couldn’t quite grasp it. “Nina.” Hmm? “Are you hungry?” I glanced at the clock and realized I was starving. I’d exerted a lot of energy today. I needed to refuel. The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a knife on a cutting board echoed from the kitchen. Leo had tied on an apron and was skillfully prepping ingredients. He hadn’t taken his shirt off this time, but the tight black tank top he wore only accentuated his broad shoulders, trim waist, and massive chest. The open-plan kitchen gave me a perfect view. As I was enjoying the show, Jake slowly walked over. His eyes flickered between me and Leo. Then, with deliberate slowness, he unbuttoned his suit jacket. His chest muscles practically sprang free. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, loosened his tie, and joined Leo at the counter. The tailored trousers hugged his long, straight legs, and a leather belt cinched a ridiculously narrow waist. He was in just as incredible shape as his brother. “I’ve got this…” Leo’s protest was useless. Jake had already taken the knife from his hand. “You’re too slow, even with vegetables,” Jake’s voice was as cold as ever, but his movements were surprisingly adept. The brothers subtly jostled for space, bumping shoulders, until they caught my suspicious glance and suddenly became a model of harmony. …I had to admit, seeing two identical, yet completely different, gorgeous men standing side-by-side… I was beginning to understand the appeal of getting a two-for-one deal. Less than half an hour later, a four-course meal was on the table. The braised ribs glistened invitingly, the stir-fried vegetables were a vibrant green, the chicken and mushroom soup smelled divine, and there was a platter of my favorite garlic butter shrimp. I was so hungry I could have eaten a horse. I sat down and immediately dug in. Leo sat next to me, carefully ladling a bowl of soup for me. “Slow down. No one’s going to steal it from you.” Just then, a perfectly peeled shrimp was dropped into my bowl. Without looking up, I beamed reflexively. “Thanks, honey~” The air went dead silent for a second. I looked up and met Jake’s knowing gaze. He slowly set down the shrimp shell, a smirk playing on his lips, before picking up another one to peel. His long, nimble fingers worked the shell off with practiced ease before dipping the shrimp in sauce. When the second shrimp landed in my bowl, my toes curled in embarrassment. “Thanks… Jake.” Leo cleared his throat, then gently turned my face toward him and wiped a smudge of sauce from the corner of my mouth with his thumb, which he then casually popped into his own mouth. Whoa… he never did things like that in front of other people. Jake, meanwhile, continued to peel shrimp with a blank expression, though his movements were noticeably more forceful than before. An unspoken war was being waged at the dinner table. I just kept my head down and ate, pretending not to notice the silent battle raging between the two brothers. It continued until a small mountain of shrimp had been erected in my bowl. I loved shrimp, but this was ridiculous. I grimaced and tried to transfer some to Leo’s bowl. Suddenly, there was a sharp clink as a teacup was set down. It was Jake. What happened to his perfect table manners? “Nina doesn’t eat that much. She can’t finish all that shrimp.” “She looks like she’s got a healthy appetite. I think she can manage if she tries.” Then both of them stared at me, their gazes intense. To eat, or not to eat? That was the question.

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The call came from my usually sensible granddaughter, Aria. There was a parent-teacher conference, she said, and her homeroom teacher was insisting that all parents be present. My son and his wife had made the ultimate sacrifice. The only family she had left was me, an old woman with a few war wounds. My heart ached for her. “Don’t you worry, sweetie,” I soothed. “Grandma will go for you. I’ll explain the situation to your teacher.” When we got to the school, Aria pleaded with me in a small voice. “Grandma, please… don’t tell my classmates that I don’t have a mom and dad. Okay?” Looking into her begging eyes, I smiled and agreed, but a bitter sorrow flooded my heart. That girl must have been suffering a great deal at this school. At the conference, Aria’s homeroom teacher, Ms. Thorne, spoke with dripping sarcasm. “Ma’am, with all due respect, you can barely keep your own thoughts straight. What are you doing at a parent-teacher conference? You’re just making a mess of things.” I frowned. Did she look down on me because I was old? Back when I was dodging bullets and fighting Nazis, you weren’t even a twinkle in your father’s eye. 1 “I have stressed this repeatedly,” Ms. Thorne announced, her voice sharp with irritation. “This is their senior year. Every single parent must attend! We have forty students in this class, and thirty-nine sets of parents showed up. Is someone here an orphan?” I knew that barb was meant for me. I stood up to explain. “Ma’am, Aria’s parents had a… special situation. They truly couldn’t be here. From now on, I’ll be handling all of her affairs—” She looked me up and down, her tone glacial. “Immediate family! As in, parents. Do you understand? A grandmother does not count.” Ms. Thorne’s patience was clearly wearing thin. “Let me be blunt. Rules are rules. If you were to drop dead tomorrow, I wouldn’t even approve Aria’s absence for the funeral, because you’re not her legal guardian. Is that clear?” The words “drop dead” stabbed me in the heart. My son and daughter-in-law had given their lives when Aria was only three. Now, I was all she had. I couldn’t die. If I died, Aria would truly be alone. Whispers rippled through the room. “She’s right, the teacher must have a good reason for wanting the parents here.” “If the parents don’t care, what good can a grandparent do?” “What do old people know, anyway? School is completely different from our day.” “Her parents are probably working out of town. It’s a tough situation, I guess.” I clenched my calloused, old hands on my knees and said nothing. Seeing my tight-lipped silence, Ms. Thorne rolled her eyes dramatically. “Fine. Talking to you is a waste of time anyway. It’s not like you have any real authority here.” She waved a dismissive hand, her disgusted gaze finally moving away from me. “Let’s continue. The next item on the agenda…” When the conference finally ended, Ms. Thorne gathered her lesson plans and swept out of the classroom without a backward glance. Hiding the truth wasn’t going to work. I had to explain things to her properly. I stepped into the hallway, but Aria wasn’t there waiting for me. I quickened my pace, my eyes scanning the corridor. As I neared the girls’ restroom, I heard the faint sound of mocking laughter. I drew closer to the slightly ajar door, and the voices inside became clear. “Who do you think you’re fooling, Aria?” a sharp, cruel voice, clearly the ringleader’s, sneered. “That was your grandma today? So where are your parents? Did they drop dead somewhere?” I didn’t hear Aria’s reply, only a soft, hitching breath. “Oh, cat got your tongue? Since school started, you’ve had a different guy dropping you off every week, haven’t you? Young ones, old ones… what’s the deal? Does your family run a museum of men?” A wave of cruel laughter followed. “Yeah, what about that guy in the Jeep the other day? He seemed pretty friendly with you.” “Kids with no parents to watch them are always wild. Tsk, tsk.” I was shaking with fury. My hand was on the door, ready to burst in. Then, the ringleader’s voice rang out again, dripping with malice. “You know what I think? I bet your mom couldn’t stand being lonely and found you a new daddy. Or maybe… maybe those are all the sugar daddies she’s lined up for you?” The words were followed by another round of vile laughter. “Shut up! Don’t you dare talk about my parents!” Aria’s voice was filled with shame and rage. “Ah!” There was the sound of a body hitting something, followed by a girl’s shriek and a pained curse. “Aria!” I slammed the restroom door open. The sight before me made my blood run cold. 2 Aria was cornered between the sinks and the wall by three other girls. A bright red handprint was emblazoned on her cheek. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were red-rimmed. On the floor lay the silver locket she never took off—the only thing her mother had left her. The pendant was a small silver heart, and inside was a tiny photo of her parents. The ringleader, Jessica, was clutching her chin, wincing in pain. “You dare hit me? You fatherless, motherless little stray!” With a snarl, she lifted her foot and brought her shoe down hard on the locket. The glass cover shattered, smearing dirt across the two young, smiling faces in the photograph. Aria shoved the girl away and gently, carefully, picked up the broken locket from the floor. I rushed forward and pulled her into my arms. Aria looked up, her eyes swimming in tears, her voice broken. “Grandma, they… they broke the locket Mom gave me.” The words seemed to drain the last of her strength. She buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed, her cries like a knife twisting in my heart. They were my son and daughter-in-law, too. I held her tight, patting her back, unable to find any words of comfort. I looked up, my gaze locking onto the ringleader. “You are out of control,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “Bullying a classmate, destroying her property… Do you have no fear of me reporting you to your teacher?” The girl, Jessica, faltered for a second, then shot back arrogantly, “Are you blind, you old hag? Didn’t you see your granddaughter attack me?” “She shoved me into the wall! I’m dizzy! If I have a concussion, you won’t be able to afford the hospital bills even if you sell your house!” She took a step forward. “I’m going to tell the whole school that Aria is a violent psycho! We’ll see who Ms. Thorne believes—a senile old woman, or us! I’m going to get your granddaughter expelled!” Her two cronies chimed in. “Yeah! Let’s go to the teacher! Get her kicked out!” I held Aria’s hand tightly. It was ice-cold and still trembling. We followed the girls, Jessica groaning and crying theatrically, to the faculty office. Only Ms. Thorne was still there. She looked up, annoyed. When she saw Jessica’s dramatic display, her face darkened instantly. “Ms. Thorne! You have to help me!” Jessica stumbled to the desk. “Aria went crazy and attacked me! She smashed my head against the wall, I’m still seeing stars!” Ms. Thorne’s voice was stern. “Aria! What is the meaning of this? Assaulting another student on school grounds? Have you lost your mind?” “She hit me first—” Aria tried to explain, her voice choked with sobs. “Ms. Thorne,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the fire in my chest. “These students cornered Aria in the restroom. They insulted her deceased parents with vile language and then snatched and destroyed the locket her mother gave her! The mark on Aria’s face is proof!” “Enough!” Ms. Thorne cut me off, her voice sharp. “It doesn’t matter what happened. Striking another student is wrong! It is an act of violence!” Her eyes were filled with contempt. “Aria, I’ve always suspected there was something off about you. It takes two to tango. Why do they pick on you and not someone else? It’s clear to me the problem lies with your character!” Aria stared at her teacher, her face a mask of disbelief. Tears welled in her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. “You can’t just listen to one side of the story!” I felt a rush of blood to my head. “Aria’s parents were heroes! They died in service! These girls were insulting them, and they were talking about the men who pick her up—” “The fact that different men are always dropping her off is something many students have witnessed!” “Those are her parents’ comrades-in-arms! Their army buddies! They care about her, so they take turns giving her rides!” I explained, my voice rising with agitation. “Oh, really?” Ms. Thorne leaned back in her chair, a scornful look on her face. “What kind of ‘comrades’ are so dedicated they take turns chauffeuring her every day? Ma’am, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. This just proves your family has no moral compass. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” “You—!” I trembled with fury. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses,” Ms. Thorne waved her hand. “The facts are clear. Aria assaulted another student. Jessica has suffered both physical and emotional trauma.” “Here are my terms. First, Aria will give Jessica a sincere apology. Second, as her guardian, you will cover all of Jessica’s medical and nutritional expenses. Third, Aria will write a formal letter of apology and read it aloud to the class tomorrow.” She looked at us, her voice dripping with threat. “If you cannot comply, then you can take Aria home for an indefinite suspension. She can return when she has learned her lesson.” I stared at Ms. Thorne, my voice barely a whisper. “Is this how you conduct yourself as an educator? Believe me, I will report you to the Board of Education.” 3 Ms. Thorne froze for a moment, then a cold smirk spread across her face, as if she couldn’t believe someone had dared to challenge her authority. “Are you threatening me?” she sneered, then chuckled as if a brilliant idea had just occurred to her. “Fine. We’ll forget this whole incident. I won’t pursue it. But if anything like this happens again, don’t come crying to me. Now take your granddaughter and get out of my office.” I thought we had won. I led a still-shaken Aria out of the school. On the way home, I tried to comfort her. “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. Grandma will protect you. They won’t dare bully you again.” Aria leaned against me, a flicker of hope returning to her eyes. The next afternoon, I received a call from the school’s disciplinary office. A robotic voice informed me that Aria had been involved in a violent conflict with multiple students and was being sent home for “parental education.” My heart sank. I rushed to the school. I found Aria huddled in a corner, her uniform stained with ink, her hair dripping wet. The books from her backpack were torn to shreds, scrawled with words like LIAR, THIEF, and PSYCHO. When Aria saw me, her eyes were hollow, devoid of any light. I stormed off to find Ms. Thorne. She was sitting at her desk, calmly grading papers. She didn’t even look up. “Oh, that? Just a little friction between classmates. It’s normal. Flies are only drawn to rotting meat. Have you ever asked your granddaughter why everyone picks on her? Maybe she has a personality problem. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to get along with others.” I stared at her, horrified that these words could come from a teacher’s mouth. I gritted my teeth. “So you’re refusing to do anything about this?” She raised an eyebrow, a triumphant smile playing on her lips, mocking my powerlessness. “That’s right. I’m not getting involved. This time, it was a conflict between students. You can’t possibly blame me for that, can you, ma’am?” I understood then. She was getting back at me for my threat. 4 There had to be someone who would listen to reason. I took Aria to see the principal. He was polite but dismissive. “We will investigate the matter. Ms. Thorne is a very experienced teacher, and we must trust her judgment. Parents also need to cooperate with the school and look for the cause of these problems within their own children.” I refused to give up. I went to the Board of Education. I submitted a thick file of evidence, my voice breaking as I told them our story. A clerk took my information. Then came the long wait. Finally, a phone call. “Following a review, it was determined that while the school’s handling of the student dispute may have had some minor flaws, no serious misconduct on the part of the teacher was found. We recommend that the parent and the school work to improve communication…” Communication? They had slammed every door in my face. Only then did I learn the truth. Ms. Thorne’s class was filled with the children of the wealthy and influential—relatives of the principal, children of district officials. The word had been put out. No one was going to help us. Every trip, every dismissal, was like another handful of salt poured on our wounds. Aria grew more withdrawn, her eyes filled with fear and shame. She began to refuse to leave the house. One gloomy afternoon, Ms. Thorne showed up at our door with several people. “What do you want?” I asked, instinctively trying to close the door. Ms. Thorne blocked it with her hand, her eyes filled with malice. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been dragging your granddaughter all over town causing trouble for me, haven’t you? Claiming I’m unfit to be a teacher? Well, now I suspect Aria is suffering from paranoid delusions. She needs immediate medical intervention.” “You’re lying! Aria isn’t sick! You did this to her!” I screamed, using my body to block the doorway. “Please cooperate with us. This is based on a professional medical opinion,” Ms. Thorne said, then gave a nod to the men behind her. A security guard roughly shoved me aside. I stumbled, desperately trying to stop them. “Don’t you touch my granddaughter! Let her go!”

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The day Cayden and I finalized our divorce, I didn’t take either of our children. My five-year-old son, Jim, clutched my hand, refusing to let go. My three-year-old daughter, Sophie, hugged my leg, crying until she was out of breath. But I remained unmoved. Beside me, Cayden’s eyes were red-rimmed. He told me I didn’t deserve to be a mother. I didn’t argue. Three years later, we ran into each other on the street. The three people who had once begged me to stay now had another woman with them. They walked right past me without a single glance. My best friend nudged my shoulder and asked, “Do you regret it?” I smiled. Not a single regret. Not after Cayden had hidden the truth from me, letting his ex-girlfriend live in our home for five years. The moment I learned that, I decided I would never look back. 1 I never imagined that Cayden, the man with whom I had two children, still had an ex-girlfriend he couldn’t forget. He kept it a secret from me, bringing her into our home to live with us for five years. He let her be with my son and daughter from the day they were born. So much so that my mischievous five-year-old son, who listened to no one, obeyed only her. My sweet three-year-old daughter, who wanted no one else to comfort her, would only let her rock her to sleep. At first, I had no idea. But one day, as I was walking Sophie to preschool, we saw a young couple kissing on the sidewalk. My daughter pointed at them, her voice filled with a curious excitement. “Mommy, Daddy and Auntie Eliza do that too.” Halfway through her sentence, she clamped her hands over her mouth. If it weren’t for that gesture, I would have dismissed it as a child’s fantasy. But it was clear my daughter had been told to keep a secret. After that, no matter how much I prodded, she kept her lips sealed. She wouldn’t say another word to me. After dropping Sophie off, I was supposed to go to the office, but instead, I turned the car around and went home. As I pulled into our neighborhood, I saw Cayden’s car parked in front of our house. A chill ran through me. He had left for work before me that morning, without even eating breakfast. Why was he back? And why now, when I was supposed to be gone? I pushed open the door and heard voices coming from the dining room. “Cayden, you’ve had stomach problems since we were dating. If you don’t start taking better care of yourself, I’m going to get angry.” The tone was a playful pout, one I had never heard before. Cayden took a sip of the warm porridge, his voice laced with a similar fondness. “Alright, alright, I came back, didn’t I? You’re the only one who can keep me in line.” I hid behind the door, my hands trembling violently. I couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t the way Cayden spoke to anyone but me. Just as I was about to step inside, I heard Cayden’s voice again, watching the woman bustle around. “Eliza,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “In my heart, you’re no different from my wife. Don’t think of yourself as anything less. “Bringing you here as our ‘housekeeper’ was just an excuse. It was the only way I could keep you close and take care of you. Don’t take the title seriously.” The woman lowered her head. Whether she stumbled or was overcome with emotion, I couldn’t tell. She suddenly buried her face in Cayden’s chest and stayed there. “Cayden, I wanted to,” she murmured. “Being here with you, and with your children… I’m already so happy.” Wasn’t she just? All these years, I thought I had found the perfect, most caring house manager. I didn’t just raise her salary. I was grateful for how she helped with the children, treating her like a sister. My clothes, my makeup, my purses, my jewelry. She could borrow whatever she wanted, use whatever she liked. I never would have imagined it. In my own home, I had been living with the woman my husband loved for five years. I took a deep breath. Stepping into the room and meeting two pairs of startled eyes, I spoke with perfect calm. “Cayden, let’s get a divorce.” 2 If this marriage was a mistake from the start, my only response was to end it immediately. My life is short. My youth is shorter. I have no extra energy to waste on the wrong person. If I made a mistake, then I would correct it. But I had to have custody of our two children. I thought Cayden, a man who could keep his ex-girlfriend by his side for five years, would jump at the chance to divorce me. But he didn’t. The moment I walked in, a look of agony crossed his face. He rushed toward me, his trembling hands gripping my shoulders, refusing to let go, as if I were still the only woman he cherished. “Chloe, don’t talk about divorce. The words alone are enough to shatter my heart.” He sounded like he meant it. But I didn’t believe him. I wrenched myself from his grasp, the revulsion I felt finally boiling over. I slapped him, hard. In five years of marriage, Cayden and I had never once raised our voices at each other. The man sighed, a look of weary resignation on his face. “Chloe, are you calm now? Can you let me explain?” He told me Eliza was, after all, a woman he had once loved. Five years ago, she had been trapped in a bad marriage. After her divorce, she had nowhere to go. He couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. In his explanation, there was no apology, no guilt for deceiving me before we were even married. He still believed he had done the right thing. “Eliza was raised by her grandparents. She’s all alone now. If I don’t take care of her, no one will.” I was stunned by his words. Who was Eliza to him? Why was it his responsibility to care for another woman for the rest of her life? But I didn’t want to ask. I just looked at the woman beside him, sobbing quietly, the very picture of pitiable beauty. “I want her gone today. You can put her up anywhere you like, but I find her presence in this house… disgusting.” The moment I said that, the tenderness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, cold edge. He could be wronged, but the woman he loved could not. Was that it? I turned, pulling out my phone to call my lawyer as I walked out the door. When I came home that evening, Eliza was still there. She was playing happily with my children, who had been picked up from school early. When she saw me, she smiled as if nothing had happened. “Chloe, want to join us? Look how happy Sophie and Jim are!” As a woman, I could see the challenge in her eyes. Was she flaunting the promise Cayden had made to her? Was this her declaration of war? Unfortunately for her, she chose the wrong tactic. When it comes to people who aren’t worth my time, even fighting back feels like a waste of energy. I pointed to the open door. “Eliza, are you going to pack your bags now, or do you want me to do it for you?” At the sound of my words, my son and daughter, who had been engrossed in their games, dropped their toys. Like two little knights, they stood protectively in front of her. “Mommy, don’t make Auntie Eliza leave! Me and Daddy don’t want her to go!” 3 In that moment, in the clear, innocent eyes of my children, I saw a flicker of hatred for me. They looked as if I were trying to steal their most prized possession, ready to fight me to the death. I blinked back the blurriness in my eyes, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. That bastard, Cayden. He had let my children live under the watch of my rival for five years, without me suspecting a thing. Day and night together, it was impossible for them not to form a bond. My two children were now Eliza’s greatest weapons against me. Cayden emerged from the kitchen. He didn’t look at me. Instead, he patted Jim and Sophie on the head, a gesture of encouragement. “Good job,” he praised. “Daddy’s giving you both an extra big piece of chicken tonight.” Jim puffed out his chest, his face beaming with pride. “Me and Sophie listen to Daddy. We protected Auntie Eliza even when Mommy was being mean to her.” Sophie’s little pink lips formed a pout. She stared at me. “Mommy, if you make Auntie Eliza leave, then you can make me and Jim leave too.” They had drawn their battle lines. And I was the outsider in my own home. It would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt. But they were just children, easily manipulated. I couldn’t blame them. Once they were living with me, they would eventually understand who their real mother was, who loved them most. Only after Sophie had spoken did Cayden finally look at me. He sighed. “Chloe, you see? The children adore Eliza. Why do you have to be the wicked stepmother in this story?” I didn’t want to argue with him about his disgusting behavior in front of the children. I said nothing. My silence must have seemed like surrender. Cayden took my hand and pulled out a chair for me at the dining table. I looked at the feast spread before us. I suddenly remembered. Cayden was an excellent cook, but he rarely cooked. Aside from our children’s birthdays, he often missed my own important celebrations if he was busy. But thinking back now, I realized that for the past five years, on Eliza’s birthday, he had always come home hours early from work. A wave of nausea washed over me. Even after five years of sharing a bed, even after I had borne him two children, did I still mean less to him than Eliza? The thought stunned me. In the end, I was still trapped in the pain Cayden had inflicted. While I was lost in thought, Cayden, Jim, and Sophie had all sat down next to Eliza. The four of them faced me, a clear division between us. I wanted to sweep everything off the table. But watching my children’s eager faces, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My love for them was my weakness, and it paralyzed me. “I’m tired. You guys eat.” 4 That evening, he took the children out to see a movie. I had planned to talk to them, so I waited in my room. Around nine o’clock, Jim sent me a few photos from his smartwatch. They were selfies, but in the background of every single one, Cayden and Eliza were holding hands. They had taken my children and created a picture-perfect family of four. How many times had this happened during those five years of deception? A wave of disgust rose in my throat. I ran to the bathroom and retched. It was sickening, truly sickening. When Cayden came home, he was clearly smiling. But the moment he saw me, he froze, as if caught red-handed, and the smile vanished. I ignored his guilty conscience and held out my hands. “Jim, Sophie, come upstairs to bed with Mommy.” When Eliza wasn’t involved, the children were still obedient. They each took one of my hands and followed me upstairs. After their bath, I held them close and asked casually, “If Mommy and Daddy were to separate one day, would you want to live with Mommy?” Sophie, my soft, cuddly daughter, hugged me. “I’d live with Mommy,” she said in her milky voice, “but you have to bring Auntie Eliza with us, so Daddy will follow, and we can all be together again.” Jim nudged his sister. “You’re so dumb. If Mommy and Daddy separate, it means they’re getting a divorce. After the divorce, Daddy will marry Auntie Eliza. He won’t live with Mommy anymore.” He rolled over, his back to me, and went back to his tablet. “I’m choosing Daddy. You can have Mommy.” The moment Sophie heard she would have to choose me, she burst into tears. “I don’t want Mommy! I want Auntie Eliza! I want to be with Daddy too!” I never realized how deep a hold Eliza had on my children’s hearts. These past few years, I had been busy with work, but I had never been absent from their lives. I didn’t think I was a bad mother. But their words, even if they were just being childish, set off alarm bells. I immediately put all my work on hold. Before the divorce was final, I devoted myself to being a full-time mother at home. 5 I had already given Cayden the divorce papers. He hadn’t signed them, but as soon as the mandatory waiting period was over, I would file for a court order. He took the papers, his eyes red, his expression pained. “Chloe, can you really be this cruel to me?” he asked. “Yes, I admit I hid my past with Eliza from you before we were married. But I married you, didn’t I? There’s no future for me and her. What are you so worried about?” I watched as he tore the divorce papers to shreds. I hesitated for a moment. “Then throw Eliza out of this house.” His pained expression froze. I could see the hesitation, the conflict, the outright resistance in his eyes. His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into fists. After a long silence, he finally met my gaze. “Chloe, I promised Eliza I would take care of her for the rest of her life. If I go back on my word now, I wouldn’t be a man of my word.” Faced with a second chance, Cayden once again chose another woman. “Fine. Then let’s get a divorce.” I turned away, a mocking smile on my lips. Even if he had chosen to kick out his ex-girlfriend, I would never have taken him back. I just wanted to see the look on his face. The look on the face of a man who claimed to love me while betraying me. I wanted to burn this disgusting moment into my memory and sever the last remaining thread of affection I had for him. Since I had been home all day, the children had become very attached to me. Jim’s birthday was coming up, and I planned to use the party to win them over completely. 6 The neighborhood kids and their parents were starting to arrive. I had just finished my makeup and changed into my dress. Before I could go downstairs, Jim and Sophie pulled me into the bedroom. Seeing their excited little faces, I thought they had a secret to share. I knelt down, and in an instant, they turned and bolted from the room. The door slammed shut. For a moment, I thought it was just a game. I smiled. “Come on, you two, open the door for Mommy,” I cooed. “Our friends are waiting.” They didn’t answer, just giggled from the other side of the door. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Then, Cayden’s stern voice. “What is this nonsense? Who told you to lock your mother in her room?” He jiggled the handle, but it wouldn’t open. “Chloe, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft against the wood. “I’ll go get the key and let you out.” “No! You can’t let Mommy out!” Jim shouted, his eyes wide. “Mommy is here for every birthday. It’s boring! This time, I want Auntie Eliza to be with me when I blow out my candles. Mommy can celebrate with me next time. Or she can celebrate with Sophie on her birthday.” I thought my son’s words had shattered my heart. But it was my daughter’s rejection that tore a gaping hole right through it. “I want Auntie Eliza too! I don’t want Mommy! I wish Auntie Eliza could be my mommy.” Nearly a month of doting affection, all for this. How utterly ridiculous I was. Outside the door, Eliza gathered my children into her arms, her face a mask of touched emotion. “Jim, Sophie,” she choked out, “having your love is more than enough for me. I wouldn’t dare ask for anything more. After all, I’m just an outsider in this family.” Cayden, who had been silent, finally spoke. His voice was tinged with a deep sympathy. “Eliza, you’ve been through so much these years. It’s just one birthday party. You’ve earned the right to be there as his mother.” He paused, then knocked on the door. “Chloe, this is what Jim wants. Don’t spoil his birthday. Just get some rest. I’ll bring you a piece of cake later.” The voices outside faded away. I slid down the door, completely drained. I closed my eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. I made my decision. He could have the children. 7 The party ended, but Cayden never came to unlock the door. The house below was silent. It seemed everyone had left. My phone was in the dressing room. I couldn’t call anyone. I thought maybe Cayden had taken the kids out for a walk. But the sky grew dark, and they still hadn’t returned. Then, the power went out. As the last sliver of twilight vanished, the room was plunged into darkness. But the houses nearby were still brightly lit. Someone had flipped the circuit breaker. Who? I think I knew. Cayden knew that when I was a child, a nanny had locked me in a closet. I never got over the fear of being trapped in the dark. I curled into a ball under the covers, smaller and smaller. I had never wished for Cayden’s return more than I did in that moment. But he didn’t come. The minutes ticked by, turning into hours. The sun came up. Cayden had been gone all night.

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1 Frank, the focus of my wife’s obsessive ambition, needed a guinea pig for his latest pharmaceutical study. So Eleanor, my wife, had me committed to a psychiatric facility. Right after I’d had major surgery. They subjected me to electroconvulsive therapy until I was a drooling, twitching wreck on the gurney. Through it all, she just covered Frank’s eyes, her voice dripping with disgust. “It’s filthy. Don’t look.” Frank’s experiment earned him a prestigious nomination. To celebrate, Eleanor set off a fireworks display that lit up the entire city. And on that brilliantly lit, bitterly cold winter night, my right leg, ravaged by necrosis from the excessive electrical shocks, was amputated. To cover his tracks, Frank arranged for me to be fitted with a prosthesis and threatened me, warning me never to tell Eleanor the truth. He told her my leg had just been “injured” during the experiment. Numbly, I packed my own severed right leg into a cryogenic container. In seven days, at Frank’s award ceremony, it would be delivered to Eleanor as a gift. … My eyes were red as I begged Alex, one of the orderlies, to do this for me. Since I’d been admitted, Alex was the only person who had shown me any kindness. He’d told me he had a brother who looked a lot like me. But he was no match for Frank’s influence; he couldn’t get me out of here. Seeing me clutch my prosthetic leg, my sobs tearing through my chest, he hesitated, then finally agreed. He had just taken the cryogenic box and turned to leave when he ran straight into Eleanor. The faint, coppery smell from the container made her wrinkle her nose. She watched the orderly disappear down the hall before lowering her hand. But it seemed nothing could dampen her spirits today. She radiated the triumph of a conquering hero. “Frank’s experiment was a resounding success,” she said, her voice bright, almost speaking to herself. “He’s finally achieved his dream.” She’d been staring out the window at the dazzling night sky ever since she walked in, not sparing me a single glance. It was only when she noticed my prolonged silence that her cool gaze finally swept over me. Her brow furrowed. “Leo, this is just a small favor Frank asked of you. You were just recovering at home with nothing to do anyway. Here, you can make some new friends and help him out immensely. There’s no need to look so miserable.” Let me think. The old woman who snuck into my room to harass me. The old man who tried to strangle me, accusing me of stealing his money. The man who kicked me to the ground, screaming that I’d stolen his woman. These were the “friends” Eleanor was talking about. Frank had been force-feeding me handfuls of experimental drugs, followed by round after round of electric shocks, which had caused the tissue in my right leg to die. The doctor who treated me said if I had gotten to a hospital sooner, amputation wouldn’t have been necessary. But I didn’t even have my freedom. How could I dare to hope for proper medical care? Seeing my red-rimmed eyes and my refusal to look at her, Eleanor stepped closer, ready to question me. “Leo—” She only got out half my name before her attention was completely captured by her phone lighting up. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the blissful expression on her face. In the twenty-odd minutes Eleanor spent in my room, she never once noticed that my right leg wasn’t real. Exhausted from the surgery, I was about to drift off to sleep when one of Frank’s lab assistants brought me my daily dose of pills. The thought of my empty trouser leg, the hollowness where my limb used to be, sent a surge of rage through me. I swept the pills onto the floor. The woman by the window flinched, then strode to my bedside. Without hesitation, she picked the tablets from the dusty floor and held them to my lips. Her voice was merciless. “This is part of Frank’s experiment. If you don’t take them, how is he supposed to write his report?” Tears streamed down my face as I turned my head away, but she clamped her fingers around my jaw, forcing my mouth open and shoving the bitter pills down my throat. Eleanor was about to say more, but she glanced at her vibrating phone, then turned and rushed out of the room, leaving her coat behind. I knew exactly why she was in such a hurry. I opened my social media feed. The first thing I saw was a picture of Frank with tissues stuffed up his nose, looking goofy and adorable. His caption read: Watched fireworks all night and came back with a cold. P.S. Taking an extra cold pill won’t kill you, right? The comment section was filled with Eleanor’s frantic replies. You have a cold? Why didn’t you say anything? You silly goose. We won’t know if you’re okay until you get checked out. I’m on my way. Eleanor didn’t come back that night. After midnight, I silently wished myself a happy birthday. I remember before all this, before the asylum, Eleanor had taken me for a check-up. The doctor had said my recovery from the stomach cancer surgery was going remarkably well. She had looked so thrilled. “The day you’re fully recovered is your birthday,” she’d said. “We have to celebrate properly.” But times had changed. Now, she was setting off city-wide fireworks for Frank, all to celebrate a nomination he hadn’t even won yet. The next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, Alex brought me a tiny, palm-sized cupcake. “I remember you said today was your birthday, but… your leg…” He trailed off, but he still lit the single candle for me. These inhuman days had been made bearable only by his kindness. I closed my eyes and made a wish. Just as I was about to blow out the candle, a figure appeared in the doorway. Eleanor took in the scene, her brow twitching as if she’d suddenly remembered something. “Oh, right. It’s your birthday.” She fumbled in her coat pockets, flustered, searching for something she could pass off as a gift. But what she pulled out was a half-used box of condoms. Mortified, she shoved it back into her pocket. “That must be… someone’s idea of a joke,” she stammered. “I’ll get you a proper gift later.” I blew out the candle with a sharp puff of air. “Don’t bother.” My blunt refusal made her face darken instantly. She shoved her hands in her pockets, her patience gone. “Are you really going to be like this over a gift?” “When your father was critically ill, I was the one who paid for his treatment. And now you’re giving me attitude over some stupid birthday? Don’t you think you’re being a little unreasonable?” I just bit my lip, listening quietly. She was right. She had saved my family. I owed her a debt I could probably never repay. Even Alex, sitting beside me, couldn’t stand it anymore. He stood up and bumped Eleanor’s shoulder on his way out. The woman stumbled, her expression turning even uglier. She shot me a reproachful look and was about to leave when she ran into Frank, who was just arriving in his lab coat. Peeking out from under the collar of his white coat was the faint trace of a hickey. Eleanor’s anger seemed to evaporate. She rushed to his side, her voice softening. “I told you to rest at home. Why did you come here?” Frank let out a theatrical sneeze. “You kept me warm with your body last night,” he said, then added with a wave of his hand, “I’m much better now.” He suddenly remembered I was in the room and quickly composed himself, flashing me a smile. “I came today because we have an important experiment to run. I’ll need your cooperation, Leo.” A tremor of fear went through me. I looked at Eleanor, pleading with my eyes, shaking my head, begging her not to agree. But she just gave Frank a magnanimous smile. “Of course. He’s not doing anything else anyway.” In that moment, the guillotine that had been hanging over my head finally fell. Frank’s lips curved into a smile. He looked at me and added, “This one might hurt a little more, but you just have to bear it. You’ve cooperated so many times before, Leo. I’m sure you’ll do great.” A dark premonition crept over me. Eleanor had poured a fortune into funding Frank’s lab, letting him test his concoctions on living human beings, even using barbaric electroshock therapies. Every time something went wrong, Eleanor was there to clean up the mess. She seemed to enjoy it. But I never, ever thought she would let Frank torture me like this. I didn’t fight back, because I owed her so much. But after this experiment, surely, my debt would be paid in full. Frank clapped his hands twice. A team of technicians filed into the room carrying various instruments. Once all the equipment was set up, Frank took Eleanor’s arm and whispered, “Eleanor, I’m a little worried. What if this experiment fails?” A flicker of emotion crossed her face. She squeezed his hand tenderly. “It won’t. Let’s step outside. We can have them bring us the data when they’re done.” Inside the room. I lay on the cold gurney, staring blankly at the ceiling as they strapped down my arms and legs. The lights blurred. My consciousness began to fade. As they increased the voltage, my body grew numb, but my mind remained sporadically, terrifyingly clear. Through the haze, I heard panicked voices, the clatter of metal. “Shit, what are you doing? You can’t even control the voltage!” Then came the violent, full-body convulsions. I vaguely heard someone shout: “Get him to the emergency room, now! We might still have time!” I didn’t even struggle. It felt like I’d been bludgeoned into unconsciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a new, unfamiliar room. Before I could speak, a man’s voice cut through the silence. “You really worked hard for this, Leo. Here’s a little something for your trouble.” Frank flashed me a mocking grin, pulled a single bill from his wallet, and placed it on my pillow. He turned just as Eleanor walked in. His sneer vanished, replaced by a look of contrition. He lowered his head. “It’s all my fault. I was being stupid, and I made Leo pass out. I’ve already apologized to him.” Eleanor glanced at me, then caressed Frank’s face with a doting expression. “It wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize.” Then she paused, as if remembering something. She walked over to my bed. “The doctor said there was a problem with your leg. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” I remained silent. She had been too busy watching fireworks with Frank. I had sent her countless messages. She hadn’t replied to a single one. Alex, who was standing beside me, was about to speak, but Frank shot him a threatening glare, stopping him cold. Then he turned to Eleanor. “It was my fault. There was an unexpected complication with the experiment, and I got so busy dealing with it that I forgot to tell you about Leo’s leg injury.” “How could it be your fault?” she cooed. “He’s fine now, so it doesn’t matter.” I, the person in question, hadn’t said a word, but Eleanor had already forgiven them on my behalf. To make sure Alex didn’t say anything else, Frank steered him out of the room. Eleanor turned back to me, a hint of guilt in her eyes. “You’ve been cooped up for so long. I’ll take you out to a nice restaurant tonight. We’ll celebrate properly.” Without waiting for my answer, she dragged me to a boutique and bought me a suit. As I was changing, she saw the map of blue and purple bruises covering my back. The hand holding out the clothes paused for a fraction of a second. But in the end, she said nothing. She made an excuse and went outside to wait. Ha. She saw the state I was in, and she felt guilty? What a joke. Wasn’t this all her doing? At the restaurant, Eleanor’s eyes never left her phone. At one point, she excused herself to the restroom and was gone for over twenty minutes. When she came back, she finally remembered to ask the waiter for a menu. But she was completely distracted, randomly pointing at a line on the page. The waiter was baffled. She was pointing at the restaurant’s address. With a sigh, I took the menu and ordered for both of us. A little while later, just as the food arrived, Eleanor abruptly stood up and grabbed her coat. “Frank is being picked on at a party. I have to go, now.” She started to leave, then paused, her voice cold. “You should come too. It’ll be hard to get a cab at this hour.” In the car, Eleanor was completely absorbed in her phone, terrified of missing a message. We rushed to the location Frank had sent. The private room was anything but hostile; it was buzzing with laughter and music. The moment Frank saw me, the smile on his face vanished, but he quickly composed himself and looked down with a guilty expression. “I didn’t know you were with Eleanor, Leo. I only called her because I lost a game of truth or dare.” Eleanor, still catching her breath from rushing in, showed no sign of annoyance. “It’s not a big deal. We were just having dinner.” As she spoke, all eyes in the room turned to me. I dug my nails into my palms, wanting this farce to end. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.” I turned to leave, but Frank called out. “Leo, my experiment isn’t finished yet. You can’t go home. You need to stay at the hospital a while longer.” A mocking voice piped up from the crowd. “So he’s Frank’s little lab rat. No wonder he’s covered in scars.” Someone else chimed in. “Scars are one thing, but a cripple in a suit that expensive? What a waste. It looks awful.” I kept my back to them, digging my thumbnail into the soft flesh of my hand, fighting down the bitter taste in my throat. Eleanor acted as if she hadn’t heard a thing. She just backed Frank up. “Frank’s right. You can’t give up now. You should go back to the hospital.” I clenched my jaw and endured it. But before I could even leave the room, my phone rang. It was the hospital. “Mr. Evans? Your father’s condition has taken a turn for the worse. If you can, you should come and see him one last time.” My world exploded. I tried to run, but two burly men who looked like bodyguards blocked my way. I struggled, but it was useless. I looked back at Eleanor, my eyes burning with desperation. Her face was a mask of displeasure. “Frank has worked so hard to get to this point. Do you really have to cause trouble at the last minute?” When I didn’t answer, she became resolute. “You are going back to the psychiatric facility tonight.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. “My father is dying!” I pleaded. “I have to see him!” For a moment, she seemed to soften, but then Frank tugged on her sleeve with a wounded expression. Her tone immediately hardened again. “There’s plenty of money in your father’s hospital account. What good would you do there?” she snapped. “Frank has been nominated. The awards ceremony is in a few days. Can’t you just be happy for him for once?” My throat closed up. The blood in my veins turned to ice. Her face was a canvas of impatience. She gave a slight nod. The bodyguards at the door seized me, dragged me outside, and unceremoniously threw me into the van that had been sent from the asylum. It was a long drive. I was locked back in that cold, dark room. It was there that I received the call from the hospital, the one that confirmed the worst. In that instant, my mind fractured. I was plunged into an abyss of ice. For the next few days, I was a walking corpse. I let Frank do whatever he wanted, no longer resisting. On the final day, Eleanor accompanied Frank to the awards ceremony, bathed in the flash of cameras. And I was finally free. I took the plane ticket Alex had bought for me, the heavy urn containing my father’s ashes, and my scarred, broken body, and I flew back to my hometown. As soon as I landed, my phone screen lit up with a long list of missed calls. All from Eleanor. After a moment’s thought, I sent a single text. Eleanor, I want a divorce. Then I blocked her number and disappeared into the bustling crowd. Back in my old, rundown neighborhood, I let out a long breath. I was home. I was halfway through unpacking when my phone rang. It was Alex. “The city’s news channels are going crazy…”

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In my last life, my husband had a sudden heart attack and was rushed to the hospital by his colleagues. By the time I got there, he was already gone. I was consumed by grief, crying until I collapsed. When I woke up, my husband had already been cremated. Before I even had a moment to mourn, debt collectors were knocking on my door. That’s when I learned that my husband, Mark, had racked up over ten million dollars in loans. And I was the sole heir to his will. Ten years later, I was hunched over, picking through trash on the street. That’s when I saw him—my supposedly dead husband—laughing with his mistress in a luxury car. Mark smiled, tossed a hundred-dollar bill at my feet, and thanked me for my sacrifice. My body, already ravaged by years of grueling labor, gave out. I died on the spot, from pure, unadulterated rage. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of his heart attack. 1 “Clara, I’m so sorry for your loss. You have to be strong, for your own sake. We did everything we could, but Mark… he’s…” Dr. Ethan Vance, my husband Mark Miller’s best friend and his attending physician, put on a performance of deep regret, spouting a stream of medical jargon I couldn’t comprehend. He guided me to a sofa. “Clara, maybe you shouldn’t look. I’m worried it’s too much for you.” I looked at my reflection in the glass partition opposite me. I was still young, my hands unmarred by the scars of manual labor. I took a few deep breaths, the reality of my second chance finally sinking in. In my last life, I had raced to the hospital after hearing the news, running three red lights, but I was still too late. Clutching the death certificate, I had collapsed, my grief so profound it felt like my soul was tearing apart. When I woke, Mark was gone, reduced to a small, heavy box of ashes. I held that box, refusing to eat or drink, until a group of lawyers from various loan companies showed up at my door. It was then I discovered I was the sole beneficiary of Mark’s will. I forced myself to sort through his finances, only to find that his company had already been sold by my mother-in-law, Brenda, leaving me with nothing but millions in debt. The house was quickly seized and auctioned by the court. Homeless, I tried to ask Brenda for help, but she refused to even see me. The years that followed were a living hell. I lived in a cramped converted garage, hounded daily by debt collectors. I worked four jobs just to survive and pay down the debt, but after the court garnished my wages, I could barely afford to eat. When I got sick, I just had to push through it. Until that day, when I was scavenging for recyclables and saw Mark, ten years dead, laughing with another woman. I had rushed forward, desperate to get a closer look. He didn’t even try to hide. He just sneered, telling me that at forty, I looked seventy. Then he threw that hundred-dollar bill at me, a “thank you” for the decade of my life he had stolen. I died right there on the pavement, and Mark, as if he hadn’t seen a thing, just drove away. … Thinking of it all now, I made a decision. Last time, you faked your death. This time, I’ll make it real. 2 Ethan kept urging me to drink the glass of water he offered. I snapped out of my reverie but didn’t take a sip. I remembered this. In my last life, I drank this water and passed out. I was almost certain it was drugged, a ploy to make sure I missed Mark’s cremation. I set the glass down and, ignoring Ethan’s protests, walked to Mark’s bedside. His complexion was rosy, not at all like a man who had just died. I had been too consumed by grief, too damn naive to notice it before. I raised my hand and brought it down, hard, across Mark’s face. The slap echoed in the silent room. He didn’t even flinch. It seemed he was under anesthesia to prevent me from discovering the ruse. Perfect. That would make my plan even easier. Ethan shrieked, thinking I’d figured it out. “Clara, you… even if you’re angry, you can’t… we can explain—” The agony of my past life washed over me, and real tears streamed down my face. But my hands didn’t stop. I began to beat Mark’s chest, his arms, anywhere I could reach. Seeing Ethan on the verge of confessing everything, I let out a wrenching sob. “I told you to stop working so late! You didn’t listen! Now you’ve left me all alone, what am I supposed to do?” Ethan relaxed, realizing I hadn’t discovered the truth. He thought this was just my way of grieving. But the ferocity of my blows still worried him. “Clara,” he stammered, “maybe a little gentler? Mark will… feel it.” I stopped and gave him a look like he was the stupidest man on earth. “What’s that, Ethan? Do dead people feel pain?” Ethan swallowed hard, instantly regretting his slip-up. He forced a weak, awkward smile. “No, I just meant…” He trailed off, unable to finish. I didn’t have time to waste on him. I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Yes, I’d like to arrange for an organ donation. The deceased passed away just a few moments ago. Please come quickly.” Ethan tried to stop me, but his position held him back. Instead, he quickly typed a message on his phone. 3 The team from the organ procurement organization arrived within minutes. I put on a heart-wrenching performance. “My husband was always such a kind man. His death was so sudden… I want his life to have meaning, to continue on by helping others.” The lead doctor grasped my hand firmly. “On behalf of all the families you’ll be helping, thank you. Which organs did you wish to donate?” I glanced at Ethan and sighed dramatically. “My husband died of a heart attack. So, everything but the heart. I’ll donate his body to medical science, too.” Ethan physically blocked the hospital bed. “You can’t, Clara! Mark would never have wanted this! He told me specifically! We have to respect his final wishes!” I dabbed at my dry eyes. “Ethan, I am Mark’s wife. I can make this decision. You and Mark were like brothers, but there’s no blood between you. I think we both know who has the final say here.” I pressed on, my voice sharp. “Besides, every minute you delay, the organs deteriorate. You’re a doctor yourself. Don’t you want to save lives?” “He’s right, Dr. Vance. Please, step aside,” one of the donation coordinators added. But Ethan wouldn’t budge. “I just contacted his mother. At the very least, you have to let Brenda see her son one last time.” So that’s who he was texting. I considered it for a moment, then nodded. Truthfully, I never intended for Mark to be an organ donor. I knew perfectly well that the moment they opened his chest, they’d discover he was alive. My goal wasn’t to expose his fake death—it was to turn his little play into a tragedy with a very real ending. All of this was just a performance to lure out the other players: his mistress, Jessica, or his mother, Brenda. I wanted them to watch him die for real, helpless to stop it. And this whole incident would serve as my alibi when they inevitably tried to turn on me later. 4 Brenda burst into the room, her hair still in curlers from what was clearly an interrupted salon appointment. She saw Mark lying peacefully on the bed and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she marched over and slapped me across the face. “You bitch! You cursed my son to death, and now you want to cut him open?” Her voice rose to a screech. “If anyone lays a finger on my boy today, I’ll kill their entire family!” She turned on the donation team, shooing them out of the room. “We’re not donating anything! Go find someone else to butcher!” The team, though disappointed, had no choice but to leave. Ethan finally let out a breath he’d been holding. He took a white sheet and covered Mark’s body. Brenda sank onto the sofa and pointed a trembling finger at me. “You worthless whore! Your own husband dies and you’re not even sad! Instead of getting him cremated and laid to rest, you want him carved up for science? You want my son cut into a thousand pieces!” “You want to be a saint? Go donate yourself! You can drop dead right now, and I’ll personally make sure they take every last piece of you!” I covered my stinging cheek and sobbed. “Mom, I’m sorry, I was wrong, I just wanted—” Before I could finish, another slap cracked across my face. “I don’t care what you wanted! Get out of here, now! I’ll take my son to the crematorium myself.” I fell silent, kneeling on the floor. With trembling hands, I offered her the glass of water Ethan had given me earlier. She didn’t suspect a thing. Stressed and hoarse from all the shouting, she was thirsty. She snatched the glass and downed it in one go. Ethan didn’t even have time to react. Less than two minutes later, Brenda slumped over, fast asleep. The cold sweat Ethan had just wiped away beaded on his forehead again. “Clara,” he stammered, “you’re not going to try the organ donation thing again, are you?” 5 I shook my head, gently laying Brenda flat on the sofa. “Of course not. Mom said no. I would never go against her wishes.” Ethan sighed in relief. “Brenda suddenly passing out like this… it could be serious. You should take her down to the emergency room. I’ll personally handle Mark’s cremation arrangements.” “Oh, I couldn’t possibly trouble you with that,” I said sweetly. “You’re the doctor, you know more than me. You should stay and look after Mom. I’ll take care of the cremation.” Before he could argue, I had already called the crematorium and told them to come immediately. Ethan was still trying to stall. “There’s no rush for the cremation. Let’s wait for Brenda to wake up. It’s not like Mark is going anywhere.” My voice turned cold. “Ethan, Mark is dead. The living are more important than the dead. You and Mark were like brothers, but you haven’t shown a shred of grief today. In fact, you keep saying the strangest things. What is it you’re really trying to do?” Ethan was frantic now, pacing like a caged animal. He tried desperately to wake Brenda, but she was out cold. By the time the attendants from the crematorium had wheeled Mark away, Ethan finally snapped. He grabbed my sleeve, his voice cracking. “Clara, I… I think I saw Mark move. Maybe we should try to revive him again.” I held the death certificate up to his face. “Ethan, think very carefully before you speak again. Have you considered what happens if Mark is suddenly ‘alive’ now? What responsibility your hospital will bear? What responsibility you will bear?” “This is premeditated murder. This is gross negligence. I don’t know if the hospital will survive this, but I know you will go to jail. So think again. Did you really see him move?” Cornered and frantic, Ethan had no answer. I sneered, shook off his hand, and followed the transport van. Behind me, I heard him cry out in frustration and start dialing his phone. 6 Staring at Mark’s still form on the gurney, I couldn’t help but let out a small, bitter laugh. When I saw him on the street in my last life, his face was almost unchanged, barely touched by time. I had thrown myself in front of his car, wanting to reconnect, to pour out all the years of my suffering. He had squinted, taking a long moment to recognize me. “Oh, it’s you,” he’d said with a laugh. “It’s only been ten years. You look older than my grandmother.” My voice was a raw croak, my back permanently stooped. I certainly didn’t look forty. “But… you’re dead,” I had stammered. He and Jessica, the woman beside him, had howled with laughter. “I faked my death to get away from you.” He didn’t have to say another word. I understood everything. If he had just asked for a divorce, I would have agreed. But a divorce would have meant splitting his assets with me, and he would have been branded a cheater. Faking his death was so much cleaner. He could leave me with all the debt, transfer all his assets, and start a new life with a new identity, openly living with Jessica without fear. I had been too stunned to speak. But he seemed to enjoy twisting the knife. “You know, I could actually hear you in the hospital that day,” he’d said, smiling. “I’ll never forget the sound of your crying. I’m still curious, how does one person manage to cry like a honking goose?” “Honk, honk, honk. It was hilarious. Hahahahaha.” As their laughter echoed around me, I had clutched my chest and fallen to the ground. Jessica had shrieked, “Honey, is she trying to pull an insurance scam? Let’s get out of here.” Muttering about what bad luck I was, Mark had sped away, leaving me to die on the asphalt. My last memory was of their car disappearing into the distance. Then, darkness. … 7 I was still lost in the painful memory when I saw Mark’s fingers twitch. It seemed the anesthesia was wearing off, and the reality of his situation was dawning on him. He was waking up. “Sir, can you please drive faster?” I urged the driver. “My mother-in-law is trying to take my husband’s body to donate it against his will. I just want him to be laid to rest, whole and at peace.” The driver grunted in understanding and slammed his foot on the accelerator. I leaned over Mark, pressing my face to his chest, and whispered all the things I never got to say in my last life. “I know you’re not dead. I know you cheated on me and staged this whole thing so you could run off with Jessica and leave me to pay your debts. But I’m not angry. I’ve decided to respect your wishes. You wanted to be dead? Fine. I’ll make sure you get cremated as soon as possible.” “I know you can hear me right now, but I’m not sure if you can feel pain. I hope you can. I want you to feel the fire. After all, you might be the first person to ever be cremated alive.” “You’re probably wondering how I know all this. It doesn’t matter now, does it? The thing is, I’ve already lived this day once. In my last life, I believed your little story, just like you wanted. And my life was miserable. So don’t blame me for this. You brought this on yourself.” Mark’s fingers trembled. He couldn’t move, but tears were streaming from the corners of his eyes. I reached out and wiped them away. “Crying already? You can save some of those tears for when you’re in the incinerator.” My phone was ringing incessantly. Ethan and Brenda. But right now, I was just a poor, grieving widow. I was in no state to take calls. 8 Thanks to the driver’s speeding, a thirty-minute drive took only twenty. But the crematorium was busy today; it would be at least an hour’s wait. I dug my nails into my thigh, hard, and let out a pained whimper. Tears welling in my eyes, I found the manager. “My husband passed away from a sudden illness, and when my mother-in-law heard the news, she collapsed. She’s in the hospital now, in critical condition. I have to get back to her. Please, I’m begging you, let me go first. I can’t lose my mother-in-law too.” The manager had never seen someone so desperate to cut the line for a cremation. He hesitated. “I understand you’re in a hurry, but these other people have been waiting a long time. It wouldn’t be fair.” As he spoke, he made a subtle gesture with his hand. I knew what he meant. Time was of the essence. I pulled out my phone and transferred him two thousand dollars. “Please, sir, help me. I’m an orphan. My husband and his mother were the only family I had. I can’t lose her.” The money worked. Mark was moved to the front of the line. Less than ten minutes later, he was being pushed into the incinerator. Just as the operator was about to press the button, I stopped him. I couldn’t let him become an accomplice. And besides, I wanted to do this myself. He agreed to let me press the button. At that exact moment, the frantic voices of Brenda and Ethan echoed from the entrance. “Stop! Stop! Don’t do it!” Brenda, still groggy from the drugs and weak from the shock, collapsed in the doorway. “Stop! Get my son out of there!” Ethan grabbed my hand as I reached for the ignition button. “Clara, wait… Brenda has something she wants to say to Mark.” Brenda, panting, shrieked, “Get out of my way! I won’t let you cremate my son! I’ll do it! Get her out of here!” Even now, at the eleventh hour, they were still trying to stick to their ridiculous plan. I dropped to my knees, playing the innocent victim. “Mom, Mark is gone. Let’s just let him rest in peace. I’m his wife. I’m not leaving his side.” Our argument drew a crowd of onlookers. The operator looked from one of us to the other. “What kind of soap opera is this? A crematorium is not a place for games.” He moved to press the button himself. Brenda and Ethan lunged forward to stop him, their faces contorted in desperation. The operator, startled, instinctively jumped back. Unable to stop their momentum, Brenda and Ethan crashed into the control panel. Their combined weight slammed down on the ignition button. In an instant, the flames engulfed Mark.

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On our wedding anniversary, I was driving alone to the hospital to surprise my wife when I got into a horrific car crash. But my wife, an ER doctor, wasn’t there for me. She was busy saving her first love, who had tried to kill himself by slitting his wrists. I didn’t call her. I just watched as my wrecked car exploded, consumed by a sea of fire. In my past life, a single call for help from me was all it took. She abandoned Harry at his apartment and rushed to my side. I survived, but Harry bled out alone, his body not discovered for three days. Claire told me she didn’t blame me, that it was all her choice. She even insisted on throwing us a second wedding to make up for the first. But the night before the ceremony, she knocked me unconscious and dragged me to Harry’s apartment. In the very same bathtub where he’d died, she carved me up, piece by piece, and with her own hands, sliced off the mouth I used to beg her for mercy. Her eyes were a crimson madness as she stared at my mutilated body. “It was just a car crash, you weren’t going to die! But Harry… he lost his life because of you! Tonight, you’ll feel the same pain he went through!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the crash. 1 With a deafening roar, the car flipped over and over. My head slammed against something hard, and the world went upside down. I was lying in a pool of my own blood. The electric car, mangled from the violent impact, began to spew thick white smoke. I never thought I’d be reborn at this exact moment. As reality set in, I used every last ounce of strength to drag myself halfway out of the driver’s seat, but my legs were pinned, hopelessly trapped. Bystanders kept their distance, terrified the car would explode and take them with it. My pleas for help were lost in the buzzing chaos. Seeing that no one would come near, my only option was to fumble for my phone, my trembling fingers dialing 911. A dull, throbbing pain in my head grew sharper. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead, and a film of blood blurred my vision. The voice on the other end belonged to one of Claire’s colleagues. I’d met her a few times. She recognized my voice instantly, and her tone turned cold. “Liam, Dr. Evans is busy today. She told us you might call the office if you couldn’t reach her. Look, I know what you’re going to ask, but I really can’t tell you where she is. This is an emergency line, so please don’t tie up our resources. I have to go.” Hearing her about to hang up sent a jolt of panic through me. As I struggled, the extravagant bouquet of 999 roses I’d bought for Claire tumbled from the passenger seat, their petals instantly stained crimson by my blood. I ignored them, my voice desperate. “Don’t hang up! You’ve got it wrong, I’m not looking for Claire! I’ve been in a car crash, right at the intersection by the hospital. The car could explode any second, can you please send someone—” She cut me off, her voice thick with annoyance. “Liam, can you stop with the drama? Dr. Evans isn’t here. Even if an ambulance comes, you won’t see her. Seriously, stop it. This line is for saving lives. Do you get that? Don’t clog up the system. Please.” She added, a little softer, “She’s not ignoring you on purpose. It’s a life-or-death situation over there. Just focus on your own work, okay? Don’t overthink it. She’ll explain when she’s done.” And with that, she hung up. Tears of despair stung my eyes, mixing with the blood and tracing paths down my face. I couldn’t believe Claire would be so cruel, leaving me with no way out. I remembered the other times she’d rushed off to Harry’s side for one reason or another, and yes, I had called her office then. But I had never lied, never faked an emergency. Seven years of marriage, and this is what she thought of me. No wonder she was so ruthless, so merciless when she came for me in our last life. But this was life or death. I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The heat inside the car was intensifying, rapidly approaching the flashpoint. I took a few deep, ragged breaths, trying to wipe the blood from my eyes to clear my vision, but it was useless. My only choice was to claw my way out through the shattered window. Shards of glass dug into my palms, embedding themselves deep in the flesh. I managed to inch my body another few inches out of the wreck. My strength was fading. I collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air. The skin on my back felt like it was cooking, and in just a couple of minutes, the car was completely shrouded in black smoke. A crowd was gathering now. Someone with a good heart was shouting for help, asking if there was a doctor nearby. Suddenly, I heard the sound of urgent footsteps. Dr. Miles, Claire’s department head, was kneeling beside me. 2 Dr. Miles scanned the scene, then quickly organized a few brave bystanders to help drag me away from the car. The moment I was clear, the vehicle exploded behind me, swallowed by a fireball. With an experienced hand, Dr. Miles began assessing my injuries as the small crowd of good Samaritans buzzed around us. “Why didn’t an ambulance show up? It’s been forever! What kind of response time is that?” “Is he okay? I called 911 myself, but the line was busy. When I finally got through and gave the location, they accused me of faking it and hung up before I could even say ‘car crash’! What the hell is wrong with the people at that hospital?” “That’s unbelievable! A life is on the line, and that’s their attitude? I’m filing a complaint right now! Who would dare call 911 after this? By the time a doctor shows up, you’d be cold. Hey, kid, what’s your wife’s number? I’ll call her for you.” The concern from these strangers, who had been too afraid to approach just moments ago, brought a lump to my throat. I shook my head weakly, the movement sending waves of agony through my body. Even strangers on the street could show me more compassion than the woman I’d been married to for seven years. The woman who, for the sake of the ex who’d abandoned her, had literally taken my life. The seven-year itch wasn’t just a saying; it was a death sentence. It was as if this new life was a cosmic joke, a constant reminder of how blind and stupid I had been. Unnoticed by the others, Dr. Miles’s expression had grown darker and darker with every comment. After a quick check of my condition, he pulled out his phone and dialed the ER. The second the call connected, he erupted. “Get an ambulance to the intersection, now! Are you all blind? Did no one report the massive car crash out front? If I hadn’t been passing by on my way to work, we’d be dealing with a corpse instead of a patient! Who the hell gave you the authority to ignore emergency calls?” “Do you have any idea how critical the ER is? If you can’t do your job, you can pack your bags and get the hell out!” Five minutes later, I was being loaded into an ambulance. Just then, my phone rang. Dr. Miles kindly answered it and held it to my ear. The next sound I heard was Claire’s voice, seething with rage. It sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. “Did you call my department again? When are you going to stop this nonsense? I told you I was busy today! Do you have to pick now to bother me? You’re a grown man, don’t you have a life of your own?” “My job is stressful enough without you calling over every little thing! Do you think you can’t survive without me? Go ask anyone! What kind of husband smothers his wife like this?” “If I hadn’t come here today, Harry would have bled out! Do you get that? Can’t you be a little more understanding for once? I know how to get home when I’m done, I don’t need you to pick me up!” Beneath her tirade, I could faintly hear Harry’s voice, murmuring words of comfort to her. After venting, without waiting for me to say a word, without even asking if I was okay, Claire hung up. She had completely forgotten that today was our seventh wedding anniversary. The image of her cold, detached face as she tortured me in my past life flashed in my mind. Tears mixed with the blood in my eyes, dripping onto the stretcher. A tremor ran through my chest that I couldn’t control. A sharp, stabbing pain in my head pulled me back to the present, but it was nothing compared to the agony of a thousand cuts she had inflicted upon me. A moment later, I turned my head and coughed up a mouthful of blood onto the pillow. As they wheeled me into the ER, the colleague who had taken my call saw my ashen face on the stretcher. Her eyes widened in horror. She rushed over, stammering apologies, claiming she thought the car crash was just another one of my excuses to find Claire, that hanging up on me was all a terrible misunderstanding. Dr. Miles saw what was happening and, after a few quick questions, learned that I was Claire’s husband of seven years. His face turned a shade of purple. He grabbed his phone and called Claire again. 3 He hit the speakerphone button so I could hear every word. “Claire, where are you right now? Your husband’s been in a serious accident and is heading into surgery. You need to get your ass back here immediately!” I expected her to at least hesitate, hearing the urgency from her boss. Instead, her voice was firm. “Dr. Miles? Did Liam run crying to you? Don’t believe a word he says, he’s a lunatic! He’s been picking fights with me at home constantly. I’m a doctor. I can’t just let someone die because he gets jealous!” “If I had been a minute later today, the patient would have bled out. He’s still not stable!” “Can you please explain to Liam for me? Tell him to stop making a scene at the hospital. If he won’t listen, then fine. He can believe whatever he wants!” Dr. Miles was stunned by her attitude. He clenched his jaw, veins popping on his forehead as he fought to control his temper. Before he could retort, another voice drifted through the phone—Harry’s, weak and raspy. “Is that Liam? Are you… leaving? Then I’ll be all alone again, won’t I? I guess it makes sense… you two have been married for seven years. It’s my fault for not being able to let you go…” As if realizing we could hear, Claire abruptly ended the call. A violent, twisting pain shot through my head. The world went black, and I lost consciousness. Dr. Miles yelled for the team to rush me into the operating room. In the darkness of my mind, I was back in my past life. The first thing I did after the crash was call Claire for help. She was on her way to Harry’s then. The moment she heard I was hurt, she turned around and raced to me. She pulled me from the driver’s seat with all her might, then flagged down passersby to help carry my bloody body into the ER. She didn’t relax until I was out of danger. Only after she got me home did she rush back to Harry’s apartment. But all she found was a cold body in the bathtub, the wound on his wrist cut deep enough to see bone. She said nothing. She handled his funeral arrangements alone. When she finally came to see me two days later, she acted as if nothing had happened, calmly telling me Harry was gone. Seeing the guilt on my face, she just shook her head blankly. She said she didn’t blame me. She said the incident made her realize how fragile life was. She couldn’t wait, she told me, to plan a new wedding for us, one she would arrange with her own two hands. I looked into her eyes, which seemed no different than before, and I chose to believe her. But the night before our new wedding, she knocked me out and dragged me to Harry’s home. The surgery had made me lose a lot of weight, which made it easier for her. My limbs were bound, my body slumped in the same tub where Harry had died. When she looked at me, there was no longer a trace of the love that had once been there. All that remained was a raw, crimson hatred, a poison that had festered deep inside her. Her face was a twisted mask of obsession, the face of a madwoman who had lost her one true love. The scalpel in her hand gleamed under the dim light. As I stared at her in dawning horror, she spoke, her voice a low whisper. “It was just a car crash. Were you really going to die? But Harry… without me, he did die.” “Do you know how deep his wound was? Do you know how much blood he lost that day?” “He was lying right here, in this exact position. The blood pooled around his calves. I’ve been a doctor for so many years, but I never knew a body could hold so much blood. So much that it was the only color I could see…” “But don’t worry. You’ll know soon enough.” With that, she placed a framed photo of Harry on the edge of the tub. Right in front of his picture, she made the first cut, slicing open the skin over my heart. The instant the blade bit into my flesh, the pain was so intense I nearly blacked out. Before I could recover, she dug her fingers into the wound, violently tearing at the layers of skin and muscle. I was soaked in cold sweat and blood, my eyes bulging with terror. But no matter how I thrashed or screamed, she was unmoved. Annoyed by the noise, she cut out the mouth I was using to beg for my life. Then my tongue. With swift, precise movements, she continued her work. Soon, a bloody, still-beating heart was held before my eyes. In that moment, though my heart was gone, I hadn’t lost consciousness yet. I could still see. I thought this was the end of her revenge for Harry. It was only the beginning of her madness. She raised the scalpel again and again, each cut a new line of agony on my body. She murmured to herself, a ghostly, insane chant. “This deep… right here… this much blood… Harry must have been in so much pain. He must have needed me so much…” In the final second before I died, I counted one thousand cuts. One thousand cuts she carved into my body. Only then did I truly understand how brilliant a surgeon she was. How efficient her hands were. After I was dead, she left my body in the tub. She held a wedding ceremony, clutching Harry’s urn. My soul floated beside her, watching the obsessive madness in her eyes, and I finally understood my own foolishness. But it was too late. I should have known seven years ago, when Harry returned on our wedding day. I should have known when she took his call and left me standing at the altar. It didn’t matter that he had been the one to leave her, that she had been the one to come to me. Compared to Harry, I never stood a chance. A wedding without a bride, a marriage without love. I had held it together on my own for seven years. Now, it had finally ended in blood. 4 When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital room. My injured head was wrapped like a mummy, with faint traces of blood seeping through the gauze. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my hand reaching for the phone on the nightstand. I was about to text Claire about a divorce when her call came through. I answered. Before I could speak, she unleashed a torrent of abuse. “What the hell is this rumor online? Did you start this? Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much damage this does to the hospital? Take it down, now! I swear, I can’t stand you for one more day. Spreading lies is illegal, you know that? Can’t you just act like a normal person for once?” “Delete it! Or we’re getting a divorce!” Before I could process what she was saying, she hung up. A wave of pure hatred washed over me, drowning out all reason. My nails dug into my palms, my knuckles white with the strain. But Harry was fine this time, and she hadn’t physically harmed me. I had no grounds to call the police. Her words echoing in my mind, I opened my phone. I quickly discovered that a bystander had filmed the aftermath of the crash and posted it online. The video had gone viral, with everyone latching onto the detail about the ignored 911 call. The hospital’s ER was getting dragged through the mud online, trending nationwide. If Dr. Miles hadn’t shown up at the end of the video, calming some of the outrage, the hospital might have been forced to shut down. I searched for the hospital’s official social media account; it had already been deleted from the sheer volume of hate. The ER had made a fatal error. I had no reason to take the video down or clarify anything. In fact, I was glad to see it happen. I clicked on Harry’s profile. In stark contrast to the chaos engulfing the hospital, his feed was a picture of serene tranquility. Not a single hint of a man on the verge of suicide. While I was in surgery, he had even posted an update. [A perfect lover is the best medicine for any mental illness.] I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. I gave his acting a silent thumbs-up. This “perfect” lover is all yours now. Enjoy. A minute after I liked his post, Claire called again. I didn’t answer. I just rejected the call and blocked her number. A second later, a text notification popped up on my screen. [Why are you harassing Harry? If you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop acting like a psycho around him!] I quickly typed back two words: “Let’s divorce.” Then I blocked her on the messaging app, too. Just then, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside. A swarm of reporters had descended on the hospital lobby, demanding to speak to the head of the ER. Nurses shouted “No pictures!” as Dr. Miles emerged from his office to try and control the situation, identifying himself as the doctor in the video. It was no use. The hospital director rushed down, but the press wasn’t backing down. Bowing to public pressure, the hospital produced the female colleague who had taken my 911 call. She was sobbing, hysterically explaining that Claire had used her, that her professional failure was an honest mistake. Then, the director’s call went straight to Claire’s phone, ordering her to be there within half an hour. Worried I’d be hounded by the press, Dr. Miles came into my room and advised me to stay put. He assured me they would handle it, admitting the hospital was at fault. I had just nodded when my room door burst open. It was Claire. She stormed past Dr. Miles, her face a mask of fury, and screamed at me. “I told you to explain yourself, are you deaf? You know exactly what happened! If you don’t stop spreading these lies, I’ll sue you for slander! You’ve pushed things this far… is this what you wanted? To force me to divorce you?” “Fine. Let’s get a divorce,” I said calmly. She didn’t seem to hear me. Her eyes finally landed on the thick layers of gauze wrapped around my head. Her expression faltered. She looked utterly stunned. After a few seconds of shocked silence, she finally managed to speak. “What happened?”

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