1 Lila, the new medical examiner, claimed she could hear the dead. During an autopsy, she suddenly wept. “He was only thirty,” she cried. “His wife left him, his son is very ill, and he died in agony on a construction site.” She whispered, “His wife’s name is Laura. Even after being betrayed, he still loves her… He’s begging her to care for their son.” All eyes turned to me. My name is Laura. I called it a coincidence—until the autopsy report confirmed every detail Lila had described. Just then, the victim’s son rushed in and called me “Mommy!” I’ve never had a child. My fiancé Jack accused me of hiding an ex. Colleagues scorned me. I was fired. Stunned, I wandered outside and was hit by a car. When I woke, I was back—back to the day the new examiner made her unbelievable claim … Lila’s tragically beautiful voice filled the autopsy theater. “This is just awful. He was only thirty years old… to lose his life like this.” The other examiners froze, their eyes fixed on her. “Lila, what are you talking about?” “We haven’t even received the victim’s file yet. How do you know he was thirty?” Her words only made Lila’s performance more convincing. She choked back a sob. “I don’t just know his age. I know how he died…” Skeptical glances were exchanged, but Lila, lost in her tragic trance, continued. “His wife ran off with another man. His son was born with kidney failure. He was trying to earn money for the surgery, working a dangerous construction job, when a rebar pierced straight through his organs. Massive hemorrhaging, cardiopulmonary shock… he bled out in agony.” “With his last breath, he whispered his wife’s name. He wanted to tell her… that even after she betrayed him, he never stopped loving her!” “He died trying to save their son. All he wants now is for his wife to honor what they once had and take care of their poor boy.” “His son… he’s only seven, just old enough for first grade. He hoped she would come back, get him through the surgery, and walk him to his first day of school…” As Lila’s heart-wrenching monologue went on, the world around me seemed to warp and shimmer. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that I had been reborn. A colleague noticed my daze. “Laura? Are you okay? You look pale.” Before I could answer, Lila, her eyes red and accusing, cut in. “I know why Laura’s so upset. It’s because the dead man’s wife… is you. Laura!” A collective gasp went through the room. “Lila, have you lost your mind? Laura’s not even married, how could she have a kid?” But as they started to chide Lila for her baseless accusations, an email alert pinged. The victim’s official file from the CID had arrived. One of my colleagues opened it. His face went slack with shock. The others crowded around his monitor, their murmurs turning into stunned silence. After a long moment, they stared at Lila, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief. “No… way. It’s exactly… word for word… what Lila just said.” Lila let out a long, weary sigh, as if burdened by a great gift. “I wasn’t making it up,” she said softly. “Everything I said was true.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Because I can hear the voices of the dead.” The statement hung in the air, electric. Every eye in the room landed on me. After the file had so perfectly validated her story, they were believers. They believed Lila had a supernatural gift. Staring back at their probing faces, the memories of my past life—my first life—came flooding back. Lila’s claim. Her accusation that I was the runaway wife of the victim, David Miller. My feeble attempts to deny it. Then David Miller’s son arriving, clinging to my leg, wailing, “Mommy, why did you leave me?” I had never been pregnant. It was impossible. But just as I was about to demand a DNA test, my own fiancé, my boss Jack, had torn into me, calling me a monster. “No wonder you never wanted to talk about your past! Laura, you’re disgusting!” Scorned by everyone, I was summarily dismissed from the department, told that a forensic examiner with such a depraved moral compass was a stain on their reputation. The day I was fired, I was a ghost, wandering aimlessly until a car’s headlights filled my vision. Snapping back to the present, I forced a calm I didn’t feel into my voice. “Laura is a common name,” I said, looking directly at Lila. “There are thousands of us. What makes you so certain his wife is me?” Unfazed, Lila met my gaze, her eyes welling with manufactured pity. “Laura, I was trying to spare you the embarrassment. But if you’re going to deny it… I have no choice.” “The victim didn’t just tell me his wife’s name. He told me what she did for a living. Her profession is identical to yours.” I opened my mouth to argue, but another sharp ping cut through the tension. The full autopsy report was complete. Every head turned to the main screen. And then, a collective intake of breath. The results were, once again, a perfect match for Lila’s clairvoyant account. Cause of death: internal organ perforation, massive hemorrhage, cardiopulmonary shock. Died in excruciating pain. The room fell silent. My colleagues stared at me, their initial skepticism hardening into cold judgment. Lila’s voice, thick with emotion, broke the silence. “Now do you believe me?” she asked the room. “I knew how he died before the report was even finished, all from his final thoughts. This proves I’m not lying!” The implication landed like a sledgehammer. “If Lila isn’t lying…” someone whispered, “…then Laura is.” “I can’t believe it. She really is his runaway wife. And they have a kid that old…” Lila shot me a look, a flicker of dark triumph in her eyes. I remembered that same look from my last life, and a cold fury rose in my chest. But before I could expose her, a commotion erupted outside the autopsy theater doors. Curious, a colleague opened the door to find a small boy throwing a tantrum in the hallway. I recognized him instantly. He was the boy who had clung to my leg and called me “Mommy” in my past life. I tried to step back, out of sight, but it was too late. The boy saw the open door and bolted inside. He ran first to the gurney, sobbing, “Daddy!” Then, his eyes found me. He stared for a second, a look of shocked recognition on his face, before launching himself at me, wrapping his arms around my legs in a death grip. “Mommy… Mommy… please don’t leave me again!” Without waiting for a response, the boy grabbed my hand, trying to drag me toward the body on the table. His voice was hoarse from crying. “Mommy, Daddy was talking about you this morning! He said he just needed to save up a little more money before he came to find you, so you wouldn’t think he was poor and run away again.” “But Daddy… he worked too hard… he had an accident… he died on the job!” “Waaah! Mommy, please don’t abandon me! Daddy’s gone because of you! Please just say you’re my mom! Don’t make me an orphan with no mommy and no daddy!” The boy’s anguish was so palpable it swayed half the room. They started turning on me. “Laura, this is just wrong. How can you stand there and watch your own son suffer like this?” I wrenched my hand away from the boy’s grasp. “Are you all out of your minds?” I said, my voice sharp with disbelief. “I’ve never been pregnant. How could I have a child this old?” “Besides,” I added, my voice rising, “I’m engaged to Jack! If I were married with a son, why would I be planning to marry someone else?” My words gave them a moment’s pause. This was a professional forensic lab, not a daytime talk show. A more neutral colleague stepped forward. “Okay, kiddo, I think you might be confused,” he said gently. “Come with me. I’ll help you arrange for your dad to be taken to the funeral home.” He reached for the boy, but the child clung to my leg even tighter. “You are my mommy! Why won’t you say it?” he shrieked, tears and snot streaming down his face. “I already lost my daddy… I can’t lose you too…” “Mommy, please don’t leave me, please… wahhh…” His desperate, heart-rending cries shattered the last vestiges of doubt in the room. The raw, primal need for a parent… it couldn’t be faked. Another colleague, unable to watch any longer, spoke up. “Laura, this is shameful. You’re the man’s next of kin, and you’re standing here pretending to be a stranger while we dissect him?” “And you have the nerve to say you’ve never been pregnant when your son is right here…” The accusations were identical to my past life. I gritted my teeth. “I’ve told you, I have never been pregnant, and this is not my child. Falsely accusing someone is a serious offense!” My threat was met with a sudden, sharp laugh. It was Lila. “Laura, your acting is superb,” she said, shaking her head in mock admiration. “You don’t belong in forensics; you should be in Hollywood. The boy is literally calling you ‘Mommy,’ and you’re still playing dumb. You’ve got some serious nerve.” Her words tipped the scales. The looks I received from my colleagues were now laced with pure contempt. Before I could retort, Lila walked over to the boy and knelt beside him. “Don’t you worry, sweetie,” she cooed. “Even if your mother won’t acknowledge you, your Auntie Lila will get you justice.” She looked back up at me. “Alright, Laura, that’s enough. If you have a shred of decency left, you’ll take your son home and raise him properly.” “We’re all colleagues here. If you admit your mistake now, we won’t take this any further.” A chorus of agreement rose from the others. “She’s right, Laura. It’s not too late to make things right.” “The boy is so pitiful. As his mother, don’t you feel anything?” Facing their unanimous condemnation, I took a deep, steadying breath, suppressing the storm of emotions inside me. “I’ll say it one last time. I have never been pregnant, and he is not my son. If you continue with these baseless accusations, I will sue every single one of you for slander.” After my declaration, I shoved the boy off my leg. I turned to leave, but my path was blocked. My fiancé, Jack, the head of our team, stood in the doorway. He took in the bizarre, tense atmosphere. “Is the autopsy report finished? What are you all doing just standing around?” he barked. “Our job is to speak for the dead, not stand around collecting a paycheck!” His reprimand soured the mood even further. Lila immediately stepped forward. “Chief, you’re just in time. The report is done, but… there’s been a complication. It concerns your fiancée, Laura…” Seeing Lila’s dramatic pause, Jack pressed her for details. Without hesitation, Lila and the others recounted the entire, sordid story. As he listened, Jack’s face turned a sickly shade of green. He stared at me, his brow furrowed in a deep, painful line. “No wonder,” he breathed. “No wonder you always shut down when I asked about your past.” “You already had a kid with some other guy out there, and you lied to me, telling me you were single!” Ignoring my attempts to interject, he walked over to the boy and crouched down. “Son,” he asked, his voice low and serious, “are you absolutely sure that Laura is your mother?” The boy nodded, his voice trembling with a convincing mix of fear and sincerity. “Yes, sir. I’m sure.” “But… Mommy thinks Daddy is too poor. She doesn’t like him… and she doesn’t like me…” That was all Jack needed to hear. His face contorted with rage. “To have a child and not raise it… women like you should be put in front of a firing squad!” As Jack’s words hung in the air, Lila added her own condemnation. “Laura, you are morally bankrupt. I’m ashamed to even call you a colleague!” “This child is seven and has kidney failure! It’s obviously because of long-term neglect. If he had grown up with a loving mother taking care of him, he would be a healthy, happy boy, not… not this!” Facing the same wall of disgust and hatred from my previous life, I took a deep breath and looked Jack in the eye. “Jack, we’ve been together for three years. We’re about to get married. You know me better than anyone. You know I would never be involved with another man, let alone have his child.” “Before we got engaged, your parents did a background check on me. If there was anything to find, they would have found it…” Jack’s eyes blazed with crimson fury. “Don’t you dare bring my parents into this!” he roared. “Do you have any idea what I did for you? Because you ‘didn’t want to talk about the past,’ I got on my knees and begged them not to investigate you!” “And all along, you had another man, and a seven-year-old son with him! What have you done to me? I can’t believe you’d be so shameless as to use my parents as a shield when you know perfectly well they never looked into you!” His outburst silenced the entire room. Everyone stared at me with revulsion, instinctively taking a step away. Lila pushed the boy’s hand into mine. “It’s over, Laura,” she said, her expression grave. “Stop denying it. Just take your son and your husband’s body and go.” “We were colleagues, after all. I truly don’t want to see you abandon your family. I’m just trying to help you find your way back…” The others chimed in, their voices a chorus of judgment. “Yeah, Laura, just go. And don’t come back to work until you’ve sorted this mess out. None of us want to work with someone who has no morals.” “Laura, if you have any conscience left, take that poor boy to a hospital. Give your husband a proper burial. It’s not too late to atone for your sins!” As their accusations rained down on me, my body began to tremble. But this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was the thrill of the counterattack. I lifted my head and met their gazes, my voice ringing out clear and strong. “You all really believe it, don’t you? That I had a child out of wedlock, abandoned him and his father, and ran off with someone else?” “I’ll say it again. Slandering me like this will have legal consequences.” At the mention of the law, their expressions soured even further. They thought I was threatening them. Jack looked at me as if I were something vile he’d scraped off his shoe. “Laura, all the evidence points to you being a deadbeat mother and a cheating wife. As of this moment, I am officially breaking off our engagement!” As soon as he finished, Lila added, “Just go, Laura. Take the boy. You can still salvage this. Think of how pitiful he is…” But before she could finish her saintly plea, I cut her off. The timing felt just right. A slow, cold smile spread across my lips. “Shut your filthy mouth,” I said to Lila, each word dripping with ice. Then, I turned and called out towards the door of the autopsy theater. “You can come out now!”

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On my wedding day, my childhood sweetheart Heather refused my ring. She fled in her wedding dress and drove off with Julian. The shock killed my mother, who was already ill. Only Serena, another childhood friend, stayed with me. She pulled me from despair, and we later married. For seven years, we were deeply in love. When she became pregnant, I was overjoyed. But on New Year’s Eve, I saw a message on her phone: “What if Tim learns the baby is Julian’s?” Serena replied calmly, “He won’t. After the birth, I’ll leave Julian and love Tim as compensation.” I stood trembling. Seven years—all a lie. She never loved me. If that’s true, I’ll walk away and let them be. 1 Not long after I placed the phone back where I found it, Serena emerged from the bathroom. I lay in bed, pretending to watch TV. A cloud of her perfume drifted over me. She looked at me, her eyes full of affection, and trailed a silky hand across my chest. “Tim,” she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. “It must have been hard for you, having to wait all these weeks.” As her lips, red and lush, descended toward mine, I pushed her away. Serena stared, utterly shocked. “Tim, what’s wrong?” In all our years of marriage, it was the first time I had ever rejected her advances. “I just don’t want to hurt the baby,” I said, my voice flat. Her expression softened slightly. “I asked the doctor. The baby is stable now. As long as we’re gentle, it’s perfectly fine.” She moved closer again, her cheeks flushed, an irresistible invitation. Her eyes were pools of liquid tenderness. The old me would have been lost in them, completely undone. But now, all I felt was the biting cold of an arctic sea, utterly devoid of warmth. This was my wife, the woman I loved, and she was carrying another man’s child. The thought was a blade twisting in my gut. I pushed her away a second time. “Not tonight. I’m exhausted.” She didn’t press the issue. “You must be tired from work. Let’s just get some sleep, then.” She switched off the TV and the lights, then curled up beside me, her arm wrapped around my waist. It was her favorite way to sleep. Within minutes, she was breathing softly. But my mind was a raging storm. I didn’t sleep a wink. Later, in the dead of night, once I was sure she was sound asleep, I slipped out of bed and went to the study. I opened her laptop. It was the first time I had done so in seven years. It didn’t take long to find the hidden folder. I clicked it open. Inside were thousands of photos. Tokyo, Paris, Istanbul… In every picture, Julian and Serena were wrapped in a blissful embrace, their faces glowing with a happiness I had never seen. I scrolled to the very last photo. The date stamp was three days ago. The location: a maternity clinic in Hong Kong. Julian was pressing his face against Serena’s gently swelling stomach, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. Behind them, a sign on the wall was stark and clear. “Congratulations, You’re Going to Be a Dad!” Staring at the photo, my heart plunged into a black abyss. That day, Serena had told me she was going to Hong Kong to meet a client. I’d offered to go with her, worried about her traveling while pregnant. She had laughed it off, explaining that the client was a woman with a peculiar dislike for strange men. My presence, she’d said, would almost certainly kill the deal. I believed her. Only now did I realize there was no female client. It was a prenatal check-up with Julian. I closed the laptop and walked out onto the balcony. I chain-smoked until the sky began to bleed with the gray light of dawn. My decision was made. This picture-perfect marriage was over. And I was done with Serena. 2 The next morning, as Serena was putting on her makeup, she reminded me. “Tim, don’t forget it’s New Year’s Eve.” “My parents have been planning this family dinner for weeks.” “We can’t be late.” I sat on the sofa, silent. As she was about to leave, she kissed my forehead. “I’ve got a few things to wrap up at the office. You can meet me there this afternoon, and we’ll go to my parents’ house together.” “Oh, and I have a surprise for you. Keep an eye out for it.” After she left, I started packing. Around noon, her “surprise” arrived. A brand-new Patek Philippe watch and a lavish, custom-catered lunch from a five-star hotel. “My man deserves to be spoiled by me.” It was a line she had used countless times over the past seven years. Staring at the exquisite watch nestled in its box, a bitter acid churned in my stomach. I looked up at the huge wedding portrait on the wall. In the photo, Serena was nestled in my arms, her face a mask of pure happiness. But deep in her eyes, there was always a shadow of sorrow she could never quite hide. I used to think it was just the bittersweet sentimentality of becoming a wife. Now I knew the truth. It was the sadness of not being able to marry the man she truly loved. I took a deep breath, forcing my emotions down, and called a lawyer friend to draw up divorce papers. I had booked a flight out of the country for that day, but I rescheduled it for the next. I had promised Serena I would join her for New Year’s Eve dinner at her parents’ house. A man should always keep his word. My mother taught me that. The thought of my mother felt like an invisible hand squeezing my heart, a dull, relentless ache. My father died in a car crash when I was too young to remember. My mother never abandoned me, raising me all on her own. No matter how hard life got, she never once considered remarrying. She had promised to love my father, and only him, for the rest of her life. In the afternoon, I arrived at the Sterling Corporation building. As soon as I walked through the doors, the familiar whispers started. “Look, Tim’s here to see Ms. Sterling.” “They’re so in love.” “Of course they are. A magazine once named them one of Seacrest City’s top ten most enviable couples.” “They were childhood friends, you know. That’s why their marriage is still so strong after seven years.” “Now that she’s pregnant, he’s probably even more protective. He’ll be visiting all the time.” “They’re such a good-looking couple. Their baby is going to be gorgeous.” “A family of three. That’s true happiness.” “Man, some guys have all the luck. Why couldn’t I be Tim?” “Check out his watch. That’s the new Patek. It must be worth over a hundred grand.” “Definitely a gift from Ms. Sterling. I heard she buys him a new one every year.” “Tim must have saved the galaxy in a past life to marry a woman like her.” “Well, Tim’s family was well-off too. His mother was a powerhouse businesswoman in this city before she passed.” “Such a shame she died so young. They say the shock of what happened literally killed her. If she were still alive, the Sterling Corporation wouldn’t be the top dog in this city.” … I stopped outside the CEO’s office. I could hear Serena’s voice, sharp with irritation. “I distinctly ordered two watches. One standard edition, and one limited edition.” “The standard one arrived, but now you’re telling me the limited edition is delayed?” “Is this how you do business?” “I don’t want excuses. If that watch isn’t here within the hour, you can expect a formal complaint!” So, she had bought two watches. I waited a few minutes before pushing the door open. The moment she saw me, the harsh lines on her face melted into a radiant smile. “Tim, you’re here!” “Just give me a minute, I have a few more documents to sign.” I told her there was no rush and sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media, waiting. Serena was stunning when she was focused on her work. For a fleeting moment, she reminded me of my mother. They were both titans of the business world, after all. Less than half an hour later, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a new post from Julian. Four photos, all close-ups of him wearing a watch. A very expensive, very exclusive watch. The caption read: “The best birthday gift I’ve ever received.” “They say the new year is better than the old. I say having you is better than everything!” 3 Comments were already flooding in. “Isn’t that the new Patek?” “Oh my god, that’s the limited edition! It’s worth over three million dollars!” “I’m so jealous!” “I don’t even have to guess who sent it.” “Say no more. Just wishing you two soulmates all the best.” I scrolled through the entire thread. There was no comment from Serena. I glanced up. She was still engrossed in her work, her phone lying untouched beside her. It dawned on me. Julian must have blocked her from seeing that post. A bitter taste filled my mouth. In all the years I’d known her, I’d never seen Serena that angry. And it was all over a watch… Finally, she finished her work, and we drove to her parents’ house. On the way, I closed my eyes, feigning sleep. Serena’s phone rang. She glanced at me, and seeing my eyes closed, she answered, her voice low. The call was on her Bluetooth earpiece. “Serena, thank you for the watch. It’s incredible.” The voice was faint, but I was close enough to hear every word. A small smile played on Serena’s lips. “It’s only three million. Not that expensive.” “As long as you like it.” Julian sounded genuinely moved. “You’ve given me so many gifts over the years. Each one more extravagant than the last. I feel… uneasy. If Tim found out, he would be so hurt. I don’t want to be the reason for trouble between you two.” Serena laughed softly. “Don’t worry, he’ll never know. Besides, I bought him a watch too. Just… not as valuable as yours.” Julian’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Serena, can you… can you be with me tonight?” She hesitated for a few seconds before replying, her voice laced with apology. “I’m sorry, Julian. It’s New Year’s Eve. I promised my parents I’d bring Tim over to celebrate with them.” “Alright. Well, happy New Year’s Eve, then.” The deep disappointment in his voice was palpable. A look of pain flickered in Serena’s eyes. “Julian,” she said softly, “I promise I’ll spend your birthday with you next year. And our daughter… she’ll be with you too.” As she spoke, Serena lovingly caressed her stomach. The sight made my eyes burn. I felt a muscle in my eyebrow twitch uncontrollably. Suddenly, I heard Julian cry out through the earpiece, followed by a heavy thud. “Julian, what happened?” Serena cried out, alarmed. “I slipped… I fell in the snow. I think I’m hurt.” “Is it bad?” “No… not too bad.” “Tell me where you are. I’m coming right now!” “No, Serena, don’t,” Julian said, his voice theatrically weak. “I can get a cab to the hospital. Don’t let a little thing like this ruin your family’s holiday.” Serena’s brow furrowed. “Tell me where you are!” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. Once she had the address, she hung up, pulled the car over to the side of the road, and shook me awake. “Tim, my assistant just called. There’s an emergency meeting I have to get back for.” “I’m so sorry. I have to go.” “Can you get a cab from here? Or I can have our driver come pick you up.” I looked out the window. It was pitch black, and heavy snow was falling. We were far from the city. On New Year’s Eve, in this weather, there wouldn’t be a single cab or bus in sight. I didn’t want to get out, but she practically pushed me from the car. Serena slammed her foot on the gas, and the car shot forward, leaving me behind without a second thought. She was so worried about Julian, she didn’t even bother with a better lie. I pulled out my phone. The signal was barely there; the rideshare app wouldn’t even load. With no other choice, I pulled my coat tighter and began to walk, trudging through the deepening snow, one painful step at a time. Over two hours later, frozen and shivering, I finally reached her parents’ villa. Through the wrought iron fence, I could see the house ablaze with light, bursts of laughter drifting out into the cold night. A servant saw me and rushed to open the gate. “Mr. Tim, you’re so late!” I didn’t explain. “Is Serena here yet?” “The mistress arrived a while ago, sir. With Mr. Julian.” The servant spoke cautiously. He knew the old story—how Julian had stolen Heather on my wedding day, how my mother had died from the shock. The scandal had rocked the city. He was trying not to upset me. A bitter smile touched my lips. Even a servant knew to be discreet, but Serena couldn’t care less about my feelings. 4 When I entered the living room, Julian and Serena were sitting side-by-side on the sofa, laughing intimately. The moment they saw me, they sprang apart. “Tim, you’re finally here!” Serena rushed over. “I was so worried! Why didn’t you answer when the driver called?” “My phone died,” I said calmly. In the sub-zero temperatures, the battery hadn’t stood a chance. “Oh, Tim, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Guilt washed over her face as she took in my snow-covered clothes. She led me to the sofa. Her parents came over, fussing over me and scolding their daughter for leaving me stranded. Julian sat to the side, looking profoundly awkward. I glanced at him. There was a small bruise on his forehead. Meanwhile, I had been freezing in a blizzard for over two hours. I couldn’t feel my legs. Dinner was a lavish spread of all my favorite dishes. It was clear my in-laws had gone to great lengths to welcome me. Serena stayed close by my side, and the family cheerfully discussed names for the baby. I don’t remember the taste of the food, nor do I remember what names they chose. I only remember the furious, possessive jealousy in Julian’s eyes. After dinner, I went to rest in the guest room. Suddenly, the door flew open and Julian stormed in. He kicked me hard in my injured leg. Pain exploded through my body, and I collapsed to the floor, writhing. He loomed over me, his face a twisted mask of rage. “Tim, there’s something you need to know,” he sneered. “That baby in Serena’s belly? It’s not yours. It’s mine!” “So you have no right to discuss its name! You’re nothing but a pathetic cripple, a waste of space!” “Eight years ago, I took the woman you loved most right from under your nose, and you didn’t do a damn thing!” “And today, you’re still the same useless trash.” “Heather was mine, and Serena is mine too! You will always be nothing but a pathetic joke!” “Oh, and one more thing.” “Eight years ago, your mother didn’t have to die.” “After she was admitted to the hospital, someone pulled a few strings and had one of her life-saving medications switched.” His words struck me like a bolt of lightning. My entire body seized. “Who was it?” My mother’s death was a wound that had never healed. I struggled to my feet, desperate for an answer, but Julian suddenly grabbed a fruit knife from the coffee table, reversed the blade, and plunged it into his own shoulder. I froze, stunned. Why would he do that? A piercing scream ripped through the air as Serena burst into the room. Julian clutched his shoulder, crying out, “Tim, no! Please don’t hurt me! I didn’t mean to take Heather from you all those years ago! Please, forgive me!” Blood streamed through his fingers, staining the brand-new, multi-million-dollar watch on his wrist. Serena’s face went purple with rage. She slapped me across the face, the crack echoing in the silent room. “Tim, what the hell are you doing? Are you insane?” “Julian came in here to check on you because you weren’t feeling well, and you attack him with a knife over something that happened years ago?” The way my in-laws looked at me changed completely. They could never have imagined that the gentle, mild-mannered man they knew could be capable of such violence. Julian, playing the victim perfectly, whimpered, “Serena, don’t blame Tim. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have called you, and I shouldn’t have fallen. It’s my fault he had to walk so far in the snow. And it’s true, I ruined his wedding eight years ago. I deserve this. I’m the one to blame.” Tears of sympathy welled in Serena’s eyes. “No, Julian, you did nothing wrong. Heather left him because she never loved him. It had nothing to do with you! And tonight, I came to get you because I wanted to. You’re not to blame for that either.” I didn’t hear a word she said. My eyes, bloodshot and burning, were locked on Julian. All I wanted was the answer. Who killed my mother? Shielded by Serena, he shot me a look of pure, triumphant provocation. I lunged at him like a madman, but my in-laws grabbed me, holding me back. Serena, at the end of her patience, ordered the servants to throw me out of the house. “Tim, if it weren’t for our years of marriage, I would have called the police! Go home and cool off! If you ever pull a stunt like this again, we’re getting a divorce!” The moment the heavy villa gates slammed shut, my heart turned to ash. Without a moment’s hesitation, I turned and walked away, disappearing into the dark, swirling snow.

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My brand new iPhone 17 Pro had barely connected to the network when the screen lit up with an incoming call. I answered, bewildered. On the other end was a woman on the verge of a breakdown, her voice as hoarse and sharp as a crow’s dying gasp. “Kate, I’m you from eighteen years in the future. We only have thirty seconds. Listen to me.” “You’re doubting me, I know. But I also know your junior high crush was obsessed with corn dogs, your best friend in high school came out as butch, and the guy from the campus food truck asked you out in college.” A cold shock went through me. My breath hitched. I had never told a soul about those things. Ignoring my astonishment, she continued, her voice trembling with every syllable. “First, your husband is sleeping with your stepsister. They have a plan. They arranged for you to get pregnant at the same time so they can swap the babies and trick you into raising hers.” “Second, stay away from the kitchen and boiling water. On the day you give birth, they’ll make their move. The only person you can trust is your high school friend—the one who came out.” “Third, do not divorce him. Find his medical report—the one that says he’s sick—and shred it. Then just wait. Let him rot.” 1 Outside the window, snowflakes drifted down, silently blanketing the yellow of the ginkgo leaves in the courtyard until all that remained was an innocent, unbroken white. “Honey, who was that on the phone?” My husband, Caleb, was curled up on our new, custom-made Italian leather sofa, looking drowsy and utterly content. I put my phone down, hiding the tremor in my hands, and forced a placid smile. “No one important. Just a real estate agent asking if we were looking to buy. I hung up after a few seconds.” Our housekeeper, Maria, brought me a warm mug of milk with honey, reminding me to drink it before it got cold. But my heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat that drowned out all peace. That call… it was everything. I had to get my hands on the medical report from my physical last week, and I had to be the first one to see it. It was the only way to know if that woman’s frantic warning was real. An idea sparked. I feigned a pout and slipped on my cashmere coat. “Ugh, that new Prada bag I ordered finally arrived, but the delivery guy was too lazy to bring it up. He just left it with the doorman. I have to go get it.” Caleb stirred, pushing himself up from the sofa with a weary groan. He reached for his jacket. “It’s snowing, and you’re about to pop. You can barely move as it is. Let me go with you.” I froze at the door, my mind racing. If he came, how could I check the report? I’d always been the type to cling to him, insisting he come with me everywhere. Now my own habits were working against me. Then my eyes landed on Maria, busy prepping vegetables in the kitchen. Inspiration struck. “No, no, you work so hard, pulling all those late nights. I can’t bear to make you go out in the cold. I’ll just ask Maria to come with me. Actually, I’m craving that roast chicken from the deli near the next building. She can pick one up.” Hearing that I wouldn’t be alone, Caleb sank back into the sofa, a wave of relief washing over his face. Maria had been with us for years; I knew her history. Asking her to come along should have been fine. But as the elevator doors closed, the words from the phone call echoed in my head. In that instant, I changed my mind. True or not, until my baby was born and safe in my arms, I could only trust myself and the chilling message from the future. Besides, the detail about my junior high crush… almost no one knew that. I had only discovered his secret corn dog addiction after trailing him home from school for days. The most polished, handsome boy in school would sneak over to a stand near another school, buy two dozen corn dogs, and devour them by the riverbank before catching the bus home. Snapping back to the present, I turned to Maria, putting on an air of urgency. “You know how it is with pregnancy cravings. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t get it right now! I can grab the package myself. You run and get me the juiciest roast chicken you can find.” “Oh, and a jasmine green tea latte from that café next door, and a lemonade from the smoothie place. I need both.” “The doctor said I can eat whatever I want now that I’m so close. Don’t worry, it’s fine!” Maria looked hesitant, but I was relentless, practically pushing her out the door. Once she was gone, I cautiously opened my email and found the attached file from the clinic. My eyes scanned the document until they landed on the final lines. The world tilted on its axis. My knees buckled, and I had to grip the wall to keep from collapsing. A blade of ice twisted in my gut. Fear and dread consumed me. I took several deep, shuddering breaths to steady myself. “Pulmonary lesions. Further examination recommended. Risk of malignancy.” 2 Tears welled in my eyes, hot and stinging. Caleb and I had been through so much since college, a whirlwind of triumphs and challenges, but he had always been the picture of health. How could he be sick? My vision blurred. Early detection, early treatment, I thought desperately. Maybe it wasn’t serious. Clutching the phone like a lifeline, my mind went blank. All I wanted was to run upstairs, throw myself into his arms, and weep out all my love and fear. I stabbed at the elevator button. But then, the mysterious phone call and a nagging question collided in my mind. Where is Lily? My stepsister, Lily, had been part of my life for as long as I could remember. My parents took her in when we were just toddlers. Normally, she was always around, showing up to “sample” whatever nice thing I had. But I hadn’t seen her in months. Even her calls had become rare. A while back, an old classmate had started a rumor that Lily was pregnant. At the time, she’d been so sure, so full of gossipy detail. I had shut her down, fiercely defending my stepsister. “Lily hasn’t even dated anyone in years. You must have mistaken her gaining a little weight for a baby bump. You’re ruining her reputation, you know. Watch what you say.” My classmate had turned beet-red, her voice dripping with resentment. “Hah. You call her your sister, but I doubt she feels the same. You’re so naive, sticking up for her. She’s been stealing your things since we were kids. You’d better watch out, or she’ll steal your husband next.” Her words, so absurd then, now seemed to click into place, forming a terrifying mosaic. A dark premonition coiled in my stomach. I opened Instagram, pulling up Lily’s profile. For the past few months, she had only shared links to songs and articles. Not a single photo. For someone who lived for posting selfies, it was a massive red flag. A gust of wind swirled into the lobby, carrying snowflakes that melted instantly against my skin, the cold shock clearing my head. I turned away from the elevator, wiped the tears from my cheeks, and with a grim resolve, tore the printed report into tiny pieces. I walked out of the building and stuffed the confetti into a trash can by the neighboring apartment tower. But when I got back upstairs, Maria was whispering something to Caleb. He turned to me, his expression casual, but his eyes were sharp, probing. “Why’d you go over to the next building just now?” My stomach dropped. Why were they so fixated on that building? Why did even walking past it warrant an interrogation? I remembered then. For the past six months, Caleb had been parking his Bentley over there constantly. A neighbor had even mentioned it. “Hey, Kate, why’s your husband always parking his Bentley in our lot? Did you guys rent out your spot or is he keeping a little secret over here?” “Oh, you know, he just parks wherever’s convenient. Our assigned spot is so far away,” I’d replied, laughing it off. All these moments, these stray comments, now echoed in my ears. I took off my coat, turned on the TV, and sank into the softer of our two sofas. Rubbing my swollen ankles, I stared blankly at an old episode of The Good Wife. “It was nothing,” I said lightly. “I just saw a beautiful white cat. You know how much I love cats. I was just curious.” I was a terrible liar, and Caleb knew me as someone without a manipulative bone in her body. My simple explanation seemed to work; the suspicion in his eyes faded. A little while later, I slipped into the bathroom, opened Spotify, and switched to a burner account. I went to the “People Nearby” feature and started scrolling. And there it was. A familiar pink profile picture jumped out at me. The location tag beneath it read: 300 meters away. I tapped on the first post. “So thrilling. My brother-in-law moved me into the apartment building next door. Says it’s to ‘take care of me.’ More like take care of his little friend downstairs, if you know what I mean.” “Pregnancy hormones are no joke, but he just can’t get enough. Slow down, Caleb, I’m so swollen I can barely walk. I can’t take it anymore.”

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1 The wedding I’d dreamed of since high school—the one that was supposed to take us from prom to the altar—became a cruel public joke in front of two hundred guests. And the ringmaster was my own sister. She stood beside Nathan—the man who should have been mine—wearing a white gown just like mine. Step by step, they walked toward me. “Daisy, I’m pregnant with Nathan’s baby,” Anna announced. “We’re already married. He’s your brother-in-law now.” Her words exploded in my ears. As their marriage certificate flashed on the giant screen, she handed me the physical copy, as if to make sure I saw it clearly. Against the document’s bright red background, their smiles beamed like a long-devoted couple. The registration date: yesterday. “Why?” I choked out, tears burning behind my eyes. Nathan frowned, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “Daisy, Anna only has a year left,” he said, voice thick with pity. “This is her final wish—to marry the man she loves, to leave a child behind. She’s your sister. You understand, don’t you?” But who would understand me? Staring at his righteous face, a broken laugh rose inside me. It was all so absurd. So agonizing. … Tears streamed down my cheeks as I screamed, my voice raw, “So to ‘understand,’ I have to let my fiancé sleep with her? I have to give up my own wedding?” Since we were children, my sister had been the sole recipient of our parents’ affection. And her favorite pastime was taking whatever belonged to me. My clothes, my toys, my friends… When I met Nathan, I thought I’d finally found something that was mine alone—a love that was sacred. But she had to steal this too. “Anna, I’m begging you, get out of my wedding! Get out of my life!” “That’s enough! Don’t you dare speak to her like that!” Nathan snapped, his eyes sharp with anger. “If it weren’t for Anna, do you think I would have ever gotten together with you?” “What… what does that mean?” I stared at him, the world tilting under my feet. “Daisy, I’m so sorry. Please, don’t fight because of me anymore.” Anna suddenly burst into tears. “I was just scared that after I die, Mom and Dad would have nothing to live for. I wanted to leave them with a reason to go on. Marrying Nathan… it was the only way. I don’t want my child to be born without a mother and a father.” “But if you can’t accept it, then… then I’ll just go die right now!” With that, Anna lunged toward the nearest wall, aiming to smash her head against it. A collective gasp swept through the hall. Just as she was about to make impact, the wedding planner dashed forward and yanked her back. Everyone let out a sigh of relief. Nathan shot me a venomous, blaming glare before rushing to comfort her. My parents scrambled over, hugging her with faces etched in heartbreak. “Don’t save me! Let me die!” Anna sobbed. “I’m not going to live long anyway! This way, Daisy can get her wish! If she can be happy, then my death will be worth it.” Her words twisted the knife, making me the villain once again. As expected, my mother, hearing this, stormed over to me. The sharp crack of her hand against my cheek echoed in the stunned silence. “I don’t have a daughter with a heart as black as yours!” I clutched my stinging cheek, my eyes burning. I looked at my mother, truly looked at her. My entire life, she had been a ghost, a shadow in the corner, indifferent to my joys and my sorrows. But the second Anna was involved, she would materialize, ready to defend her. It had always been this way. Nathan’s face was a mask of disappointment. “She’s your sister, Daisy, and you’re trying to drive her to her death. You’re too cruel.” “Apologize to Anna right now, or we can forget about ever having a wedding!” SLAP! I swung my own hand, striking him across the face with all the force I could muster. “You’re disgusting!” The wedding I had dreamed of since I was a teenager ended in a humiliating retreat. I went straight back to our new home. By the time Nathan returned, I had finished packing. I was dragging my suitcase to the door. He grabbed my hand, rubbing his temples in exasperation. “Are you really going to make a scene over this?” “It’s only for a year, Daisy. Then I’ll come back to you. Can you please stop being so dramatic?” I wrenched my hand away. “Dramatic?” “Nathan, we’ve been together for so long. Did you ever truly love me? If you had just told me you fell in love with someone else, I would have stepped aside.” “But what did you do? You went behind my back, slept with my sister, and then you both humiliated me in front of everyone we know!” The memory sent a chill through my entire body. “What do you take me for?” Nathan faltered for a second. “Daisy, I know this is hard for you.” Just like that. A simple acknowledgment to gloss over the gaping wound he’d torn in my life. How pathetic. I looked down, the last embers of love for him finally extinguished. “Nathan,” I said, my voice flat. “We’re done.” We were done the moment he chose to hurt me. “Get out!” I shoved him and his suitcase out the door and slammed it shut. I had bought this house. He was the one who had to leave. Ignoring his frantic knocking, I walked back into the living room and sank onto the sofa. Nathan and I had been together for seven years. He was my desk mate in my final year of high school, a transfer student who was a year older than everyone else. An orphan, he was quiet and aloof with everyone but me. After graduation, we fell together naturally. We had our sweet moments, and our arguments. He always said his greatest dream was to marry me, to give me a home. When he made that promise, his eyes had been filled with nothing but love and sincerity. I truly believed we were the couple who would make it from the classroom to the altar. And I never even saw when he and Anna had gotten together. I covered my face, trying not to cry. But the sobs came, ragged and unstoppable. I spent three days in a fog, until my best friend, Chloe, rushed back from her business trip. The moment she walked in, she wrapped me in a hug, her own eyes turning red. We’d been friends since we were kids. Her work trip was the only reason she’d missed the wedding. “I never should have gone. I should have been here with you. This is all my fault…” She cried until she couldn’t anymore. Finally, she sniffled and looked at me, her eyes hard. “Daisy, we can’t let them get away with this. They humiliated you.” “And you know your sister. She’s a drama queen. I guarantee she has more planned.” I nodded. Anna and I were sisters by blood, but she’d despised me since we were born. Compounded by her illness—a doctor’s grim prediction that she wouldn’t live past twenty-eight—our parents had always coddled her out of guilt. I had suffered at her hands my entire life. And now, she was using her final days to plot against me, to ensure I lived the rest of my life in her shadow? In her dreams. I refused to be a pawn in her and Nathan’s sick game. I wiped my tears and told Chloe my thoughts. She immediately started helping me find witnesses who could attest to my long relationship with Nathan. Meanwhile, I gathered all the evidence of our love story. I didn’t know what their next move would be, but I wasn’t going to just sit here and take it. I never imagined Anna could be so shameless. After a few days of rest, I went back to work. I had been out for so long that my desk was piled high with tasks. I was so busy I barely had time to eat. That evening, I walked into my apartment to find my parents sitting on my sofa with Anna and Nathan. I’d forgotten. Nathan still had a spare key. The sight of him, the memory of everything we’d shared in this very house, made my stomach turn. I took a deep breath. I needed to sell this place, and fast. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice hard as stone. My mother pretended not to notice my tone. “Daisy, honey, you and Anna are sisters. There’s nothing you can’t get past.” “Anna has already promised that after she’s gone, we’ll throw a magnificent wedding for you and Nathan to make it up to you.” “This time, it was Mom and Dad who didn’t think things through.” It was rare for my mother to sound apologetic, but it only made me colder. “So, you and Dad knew about it that day?” Their eyes darted away, a clear sign of their guilt. I let out a cold laugh. Of course. My mother pressed her lips together. “Your sister and her child needed a legitimate status. The wedding was the best place to announce it.” Because Anna needed it, they sacrificed me without a second thought. I closed my eyes, a bitter smile on my face. I’d always known I wasn’t as important as Anna to them. But I never knew just how worthless I was. Anna chose that moment to chime in. “Daisy, don’t blame Mom and Dad. They did it all for me.” “I know you’re upset, but I couldn’t bear to miss out on my chance with Nathan again. We… we already missed each other once before.” As she spoke, she gazed at Nathan with deep affection. His eyes softened with a look of shared pain. My heart stopped. I suddenly remembered that before Nathan had transferred to our school, he had a first love. I’d asked him about her before, but he always changed the subject. I never imagined his first love was my own sister. No wonder he was so special to me, and only me. All these years, I was just a stand-in. A substitute. My fists clenched. Anna, Nathan! You’ve gone too far! Perhaps my expression was too terrifying, because Nathan didn’t dare look at me. Anna, however, pressed on. “Daisy, I know you love Nathan very much.” “But I love him too, and I don’t want to share him with another woman. But what can I do? You’re my sister.” She started to cry, a picture of fragile beauty. “If you agree to have a hysterectomy, I’m willing to let Nathan marry you after I’m gone.” Anna’s sobs were heartbreaking. Nathan pulled her into his arms, the two of them looking like a pair of star-crossed lovers. My parents were openly weeping. “That’s right, Daisy,” my mother said. “Your sister doesn’t have much time left. Just give in to her this once. I know your father and I neglected you, and that’s why you’re so stubborn.” “Here’s what we’ll do. You move back home with us, and we’ll make it up to you. For now, let Anna and Nathan have this new house.” “You can move back in after a year…” I looked at Anna. When no one was watching, she shot me a triumphant smirk. The victor. SLAP! I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged forward and struck Anna across the face. She let out a piercing shriek. My parents and Nathan froze. “Daisy, don’t you—” SLAP! Nathan started to speak, and I hit him too. Without another word, I stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a butcher knife, and came back out, pointing it directly at them. My eyes were glacial. “Get. Out.” They were all stunned into silence. My mother trembled. “I’m your mother! You ungrateful child!” “Get out!” I repeated, my voice even colder. I started waving the knife wildly, driving them out like a madwoman. Terrified of getting cut, they huddled together, protecting Anna as they scrambled for the door. Watching their pathetic retreat, I spat. “You want my house, Anna? Not in this lifetime!” “And as for Nathan, that piece of trash? If you want him, you can have him. I don’t!” Hearing me call him trash, Nathan’s face contorted. He tried to argue, but I slammed the door in his face. Outside, my parents screamed insults at me, calling me a heartless viper. I couldn’t be bothered to listen. With the door shut, I could finally breathe again. But my head was spinning. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital. Chloe was by my side, relief washing over her face. “Thank God I asked your neighbor to keep an eye on things! I knew they were bad news!” “I came in and found you on the floor! It was just low blood sugar, but you scared me to death!” “I’m sorry I made you worry,” I said, ashamed. “Don’t say that!” she scolded playfully, then her expression turned mischievous. “But hey, there’s a silver lining!” She handed me a few sheets of paper. “I picked these up for you while I was at it.” It was the pre-marital health screening report Nathan and I had done. Confused, I started reading. A single line made me freeze. I gasped. “Nathan is sterile?!” “Then the baby in Anna’s belly… it’s not his?!” I was so shocked my voice rose to a shriek. Chloe grinned and nodded. “I was floored too! I even double-checked with the doctor. He said there’s no way Nathan could ever have children!” “The idiot is eagerly playing daddy to another man’s kid! He deserves it!” She laughed, a sound full of malicious glee. Hearing that, I started laughing too. It was the best news I’d had in what felt like an eternity. “So what’s your plan? Are you going to tell him now? Though, Daisy, you should probably just…” “The only thing I feel for him is hatred,” I cut her off. I thought for a moment. “We keep this a secret for now.” “We wait until Anna is seven or eight months along. Then we tell them.” By then, an abortion would be out of the question. Anna was willing to use her own unborn child and sacrifice my entire life just to trap me. So I would dismantle her plan, piece by piece, until she couldn’t rest in peace. Chloe gave me a thumbs-up. We looked at each other and smiled. I was so grateful to have her by my side through all of this. We spent the next hour plotting our next steps. I stayed in the hospital overnight. When they confirmed I was fine, I discharged myself, telling Chloe not to worry about picking me up. When I got to my apartment, Nathan was squatting by the door. The moment I saw him, my face went cold. “Are you okay? I heard you were in the hospital,” he said, trying to sound like the devoted man I once knew. I used to love his gentleness. He was cold to the world, but always warm and soft with me. Now, knowing I was just a substitute, the thought of his touch made me sick. “None of your damn business,” I snarled. “Daisy!” He reached for me, but I dodged him. “Can’t you just behave?” he said, his voice laced with exhaustion. “Just wait for me to get through this year with Anna, and then we can be together. Please, just wait for me.” I laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “You are truly disgusting. What, you want to have us both? Live out some sick fantasy?” “Daisy! We love each other. Why are you making this so complicated?” “Love each other? In your dreams,” I said coldly. “After everything you’ve done, do you really think I’d still be stupid enough to love you?” “I’m not Anna. I’m not that pathetic.” The disgust on my face must have been plain, because he flinched. “Daisy, don’t say things you don’t mean,” he pleaded, his eyes full of feigned hurt. “Hah.” I smirked, my eyes full of scorn. Suddenly, I kicked his shin. As he doubled over in pain, I shoved him aside, unlocked my door, and slipped inside. “If you harass me again, I’m calling the police!” I yelled, slamming the door shut. The second I sat down, a message from Chloe came through. I opened the file she sent—a video of the wedding disaster—and forwarded it to the general HR email address at Nathan’s company. If we were going to be humiliated, we might as well all go down together.

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For years after I left the country, every woman Lee Sinclair was seen with looked just like me. His friends all said the same thing. I was his ‘one that got away.’ “The second Amanda Ashton decides to come home,” they’d say, “it’s game over for everyone else.” Then he started dating a starlet, fresh on the scene. And she looked nothing like me. She was the first woman he ever publicly called his girlfriend. That was the year I rushed back home. Everyone was waiting for the drama to unfold—the great lost love, returning with her tail between her legs to win back the reformed playboy. A classic story. Even Lee himself warned me, his words a thinly veiled threat: “Amanda, you picked a bad time to come back.” But what they didn’t know, what none of them could have guessed, was that I wasn’t there to fight for him. I was home to get married. 1 The moment I stepped out of the arrivals gate, I saw him. Lee. He was standing in the crowd, dressed in a sharp wool coat, his face etched with a maturity it lacked when I’d left years ago. The expression he wore, though, was a chaotic mix of emotions I couldn’t begin to decipher. “They told me you were coming back,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I thought it was a lie.” I stopped, my hand tightening on the handle of my suitcase. “I’m just here to take care of some things,” I replied, my tone deliberately flat. Lee wordlessly took the suitcase from my grasp. “Your father asked me to pick you up. Don’t get the wrong idea.” I just nodded and followed him to the underground parking garage. On the way, my phone buzzed incessantly. A group chat with old friends, dormant for years, had exploded. [No way, did Lee actually go get Amanda? For real? Amanda’s back?!] [What about his new girlfriend, that rising star, Vivian Reed? Did he dump her?] [Duh. Besides, why do you think Amanda’s suddenly back? She’s here to claim her man!] [Vivian who? She was just a novelty. Now that the queen is back, I bet Vivian won’t even get a second glance.] [Don’t underestimate Vivian. I’ve met her. Any woman who can get a leash on Lee Sinclair is a force to be reckoned with.] Lee glanced at his own vibrating phone. He scrolled through the messages, then looked at me, his jaw tight. “Amanda, this is bad timing. I have a girlfriend now.” My hand froze on the passenger door handle. After a beat, I pulled it back and opened the back door instead. “Congratulations,” I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. He slammed his own door with a little too much force. I noticed then, after all these years, that he’d started smoking. The Lee I knew was a picture of self-control—no smoking, no drinking, a world away from the messy nightlife our friends indulged in. And yet, during my years abroad, I’d heard whispers of more than a dozen flings. His phone rang, and a sweet, syrupy voice cooed from the speaker. “Lee, honey, I’m exhausted on set. Can you please come pick me up?” “Send me the address.” “Love you! Mwah!” He hung up and shot me a look that was more of a challenge than a smile. “You mind if we make a detour? To pick up my girlfriend.” “Of course not.” I should have taken a cab. 2 Lee pulled up near the film set. Among the bustling crew and lingering fans, my eyes landed on Vivian Reed immediately. She was impossible to miss. Even bundled up against the cold, she had an unmistakable star quality. When fans started snapping pictures, Vivian pulled her mask down just enough to flash a dazzling smile. “Thank you, darlings! My boyfriend isn’t in the business, so could you please not photograph him?” A fan shouted, “We heard he’s the heir to the Sinclair fortune! Is it true?” Vivian didn’t deny it. She just pressed a finger to her lips in a playful shhh gesture. The moment she slid into the car, she peeled off her sunglasses and planted a kiss on Lee’s cheek. “Lee, darling. Have you been waiting long?” Her gaze then shifted to me in the back. “And you are?” “Hello,” I said, offering a polite smile. “It’s a pleasure. I’m Amanda Ashton, a friend of Lee’s.” Vivian’s own smile widened. “Amanda. I’ve heard so much about you.” Lee reached over and clicked her seatbelt into place for her. “All set. Let’s go.” “Oh, look at me,” Vivian pouted playfully. “I always forget. You always have to do it for me.” I turned my head to stare out the window, focusing on the blur of passing city lights, anything to avoid the cloying scene in the front seat. We hadn’t been driving for long when Vivian addressed me again. “Amanda, did you date anyone while you were overseas?” “I did,” I answered honestly. “I knew it! A woman as beautiful as you—you look like a movie star yourself!—must have men falling at her feet, right? It was the same for me with Lee. He pursued me so hard. All his friends say I’m different, that I’m… special to him. His everything. But you know,” she mused, her tone turning sharp, “it almost makes me wonder if he has a great lost love somewhere. I hear you and Lee grew up together. You must know who she is. Tell me.” She was looking at me now, her eyes filled not with curiosity, but with scrutiny. Lee’s brow furrowed. “I don’t have a ‘lost love.’ That’s just them talking nonsense.” Vivian pouted again, turning her attention back to her phone with a dramatic sigh. The rest of the drive was silent. When Lee dropped me off at my parents’ house, he didn’t even get out of the car. He just rolled down the window. “My girlfriend’s upset. I have to go smooth things over. I’ll pass on your hellos to your parents.” Just as I was about to walk away, Vivian called out. “Amanda, let’s exchange numbers!” I held out my phone for her to scan, but she shook her head. “No, you scan mine. That way I know you won’t just ignore my request.” 3 My friends threw a small party to welcome me home. No one expected Lee to bring Vivian. She came bearing perfectly chosen gifts for everyone, but she saved the most pointed one for me. “I’ve heard that Lee thinks of you as family, Amanda,” she said, her voice dripping with sweetness. “So when we get married, you have to be my maid of honor, okay?” The mood in the room soured. A few of our friends shot Lee a look. “Sinclair, you gonna let her run her mouth like that?” Lee just chuckled. “What, you want me sleeping on the couch?” Vivian giggled, covering her mouth coyly. Later, she suggested a game of Truth or Dare. The bottle spun and, of course, it landed on me. Everyone leaned in, ready with a question, but Vivian held up a hand. “Hold on, everyone! My boyfriend gets to ask first.” Lee took a sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on me. “Did you have a boyfriend overseas?” “Yes,” I nodded. A few people gasped. Ryan Cole, one of Lee’s best friends, tried to smooth things over. “Come on, Amanda’s just joking. Drink up for the fib, I’ll take it for her!” The next round, Lee spun again. The bottle wobbled and pointed right back at me. “What’s his name?” he asked. “I’d rather not say.” Vivian burst out laughing, loud and theatrical. “Hahaha! Amanda, it’s a good thing you’re not an actress, because your performance is terrible! Men might be dense enough to miss it, but as a woman, I can spot a lie a mile away!” Lee’s usual flings would never have dared to speak like that. But this wasn’t just another fling. This was Vivian Reed, the only woman he’d ever publicly claimed. His silence was her permission. I swept my hair back from my face and smiled, a cool, sharp thing. “Actors are known for their drama, Miss Reed. I, on the other hand, don’t do theatrics.” The smile froze on Vivian’s face. I may have a reputation for being good-natured, but I also have a razor-sharp tongue. It seemed Lee had forgotten to mention that part to her. But she recovered quickly, her smile snapping back into place as she poured me a glass of whiskey. “A dare’s a dare. If you can’t answer, you drink. Bottoms up.” “Fine.” I downed the glass in one go, the liquor burning a path down my throat. The bottle in Lee’s hand seemed to have a mind of its own. On his next spin, it landed on me for a third time. He didn’t even hesitate. “Why did you come back?” 4 I gave up on answering. Lee saw it in my eyes and slammed his hand down on the bottle, stopping its spin. “Why. Did. You. Come. Back?” His knuckles were white where he gripped the glass. “To get married,” I said, my voice weary. I figured there was no point in hiding it; I’d be inviting them to the wedding soon enough anyway. A beat of silence, then— “Pfft—Hahahahahahaha!” The whole room erupted in laughter. “Wow, Amanda, you’ve been gone for years, and your pranks have only gotten more childish.” “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” “You were never a good liar, Amanda.” I turned my gaze to Vivian. “So, I’m sorry, but I can’t be your maid of honor. My wedding is next month.” “Is it with that boyfriend you had overseas?” she pressed, her eyes glinting. “Why not just tell us who he is, Amanda? It’s not like we’re going to judge him if he’s not up to your standards, right?” I had no intention of explaining myself to her. “He’s an exceptional man, but I can’t disclose his identity.” Suddenly, Lee shot to his feet, pulling Vivian up with him. “Vivian, your acting is much better than hers, but I’ve had enough of this show. We’re leaving.” Ryan grabbed his arm, whispering urgently, “Don’t, man. If you miss this chance, who knows when you’ll get another one?” Lee shoved his hand away. “What chance? When have I ever been waiting for her? Huh?” His voice was raw, cutting through the noise. “I’ve been with more women than I can count these past few years. Every single one of them is better than Amanda Ashton.” Ryan’s words died in his throat. My eyes met Lee’s across the room. I could see the tremor in his gaze. I stood frozen, feeling the blood turn to ice in my veins. “Have some self-respect, Lee,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Don’t you feel disgusting?” He licked his lips, a bitter, mocking smile playing on his face. “That’s none of your damn business.” 5 After the party broke up, Ryan caught up with me. “Amanda, are you for real about getting married? Or is this all just a game?” I nodded calmly. “It’s real.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, you don’t have to lie to me. I know what’s going on with you and Lee. You two just can’t get over that one hurdle from the past. The truth is, Lee—” “Ryan,” I cut him off. “It wasn’t a hurdle. It was a person. I am getting married. For real. This isn’t a lie or some childish attempt to make him jealous.” Ryan looked like I’d just struck him. “Amanda! After what he’s become these last few years, how could you…?” “I don’t know what he’s become,” I said, my voice hollow. “But you do. You’ve seen how much he’s enjoyed his new life.” “Enjoyed it? Amanda, for years, Lee has looked at a parade of women who look just like you, and the only thing he ever says is, ‘She looks like her, but she’s not her.’” My voice broke. “But you saw him tonight, Ryan. He still hates me.” … Halfway home, Lee’s car screeched to a halt. He turned to Vivian, his voice cold. “Get out.” Vivian’s smile faltered. “What? So you say you don’t believe her, but the second you hear she’s getting married, you fly into a rage?” Lee’s eyes darkened into two chips of ice. “Vivian, know your place. I can end your career with a single phone call.” Faced with a choice between a verbal jab and her entire future, Vivian chose her career. She had thought she was different. No other woman had ever sat in the passenger seat of Lee’s car. No other woman had been publicly acknowledged as his girlfriend. Other women were dropped the moment Amanda’s name was even mentioned. Vivian didn’t believe Amanda was the untouchable first love everyone claimed she was. She thought it was something much deeper. She thought it was hate. A love that had curdled into a bitter, all-consuming resentment. Every woman in their circle wanted to be Mrs. Sinclair. And Vivian, having gotten her foot in the door, was determined to kick it wide open. 6 Vivian posted online. It was a grainy photo she must have secretly taken of me at the party, showing only my back against the dim lighting of the room. The caption read: [Heard his one true love came back, and suddenly I’m just a stain on the wall.] A minute later, she deleted it. But the damage was done. Vivian was a top-tier celebrity, hand-picked and promoted by Lee himself. Her every move made headlines. And this time, the trending topic included my name. Her fans were furious. [What ‘one true love’? She’s the one who dumped him in the first place, and now she can’t stand to see our Vivian happy, so she came back to wreck it.] [OMG, so she’s a homewrecker?] [She’s worse than a homewrecker. She’s a murderer. She got one of their best friends killed.] [Not many people know the story, but let’s just say Amanda Ashton comes from big money. You can connect the dots…] [Vivian, are you being threatened? If you are, post a single period on your next update.] Vivian’s next post was a single period. She deleted it a second later. The internet erupted. When she showed up at my door to “apologize,” she was the picture of innocence, dabbing at crocodile tears. “I’m so sorry, Amanda. I was just posting a line from a script. I had no idea people would react like this, that they would attack you online. I’m so, so sorry.” She cried so beautifully it was almost convincing. “You wanted to hurt me without offending my family,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “Vivian, you can’t have it both ways.” “Amanda, I know it’s all true. That you and Lee had a history. I understand why you’d target me, but please, leave him out of this.” Before I could respond, Vivian suddenly pitched forward, her forehead cracking against the sharp corner of the coffee table. Just at that moment, Lee walked in. He saw her collapse, saw the blood bloom on her forehead, and rushed to her side. He scooped her up in his arms as the blood streamed down her face, staining the shoulder of his coat a deep crimson. “Amanda,” he snarled, his eyes blazing, “I already had the posts taken down. Don’t push your luck.” “You think I did this?” I shot back, incredulous. “Who do you think sicced her fans on me in the first place?” Lee’s laugh was a bitter, ugly sound. “But which part is wrong, Amanda? The part where you left without a word, or the part where you got someone killed? Hm?” The words caught in my throat. Without another look at me, he carried Vivian out the door and rushed her to the hospital. 7 I drove to the cemetery. The sun was bright, the air was still, but the place felt heavy with unspoken words. I stood before a simple headstone and pulled a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I lit one and placed it on the ground before the stone. “Your favorite,” I murmured. I looked at the smiling face of the young man in the photograph, his life frozen forever at twenty. Leo Vance. An orphan, with no family to speak of. The three of us had been inseparable. One day, while helping Leo move, his journal fell out of a box in the back of my car. It fell open to a page that would shatter our world. A small photo of Lee was taped to the corner of the page. Surrounding it, in Leo’s familiar handwriting, were words—paragraphs of them—detailing a love for Lee that was raw, secret, and absolute. At the time, Lee and I had just found our way to each other after my own six-year crush. We had been officially together for less than a year. And for seven years before that, Leo had been by Lee’s side. I stormed to Lee’s place, my hands shaking with rage, and confronted him. “Leo has been in love with you for years! How could you not know? You kept him by your side for seven years—were you both lying to me this whole time?” “What are you talking about?” Lee roared back, his face a mask of disbelief. “If Leo was in love with me, then pigs can fly!” I slammed the journal page down on his desk. “See for yourself! This is how he’s loved you for seven years!” But Lee’s eyes weren’t on the page. They were looking past me, toward the doorway. I turned. Leo was standing there, his face as white as a sheet. He turned and fled. He ran out of the building, into the street, and right into the path of an oncoming car at the intersection just a block away. He was killed instantly. Later, when the shock subsided enough for me to think, I found the last page of his journal. The grief hit me like a physical blow. Leo had written: To find someone you love who loves you back is the rarest thing. Amanda and Lee are my best friends. They have to be happy. Tears streamed down my face, hot with regret. We were only twenty years old. Our love was too young, too fragile to bear the weight of a life. It shattered. From that day on, every time Lee looked at me, there was a flicker of hatred in his eyes. Leo was my friend, but he was the brother Lee never had. I couldn’t blame him. When the icy ocean water rose to my chest, a kind stranger pulled me back. “You’re so young!” he yelled at me, his face furious. “What gives you the right to give up on your life?” “I took a life,” I sobbed. “I owe him this.” “Listen to me,” he said, shaking me. “You think dying is your escape? How selfish can you be? If you want to atone, then live with the guilt. Live with it forever!” So I ran. I ran from Lee, and I ran from myself, carrying my guilt with me to the other side of the world. I went to Murmansk, the city Leo always dreamed of visiting. The year-round ice-free port. For a year-round unforgivable sin. 8 With a massive bandage on her forehead, Vivian started a livestream. Her fans were frantic. [Vivian, what happened? Did someone hit you? Tell us, we’ll protect you!] [Just a bystander here, but this is horrifying. Please call the police, sweetheart.] [I’m literally sobbing. Can someone please save this precious, kind soul?] Vivian managed a weak, pale smile. “Everyone, don’t worry. I was just clumsy and bumped my head.” Then, she tilted the camera just enough to show Lee’s back in the background. He appeared to be cooking for her in her kitchen. “Okay, my darlings, be strong, no more tears,” Vivian said. “And I guess every cloud has a silver lining. Because of this, my boyfriend is finally home, cooking for me.” The comments exploded. [So that homewrecker had him tied up all this time? Amanda Ashton is shameless!] [Don’t let one home-cooked meal fool you, you sweet girl! You’re always so kind, but who’s looking out for you?] [I hope Amanda Ashton dies!] Just before Lee could turn around, Vivian angled the camera back to her face. She feigned concern. “Everyone, you’ve misunderstood. Amanda is a dear friend to both of us. I hope you all can respect a private citizen’s life and leave her in peace, okay?” The comments only grew more vicious. Watching them scroll by, Vivian’s smile deepened with satisfaction. She ended the stream. Across the city, I put down my phone and rubbed my temples, a headache blooming behind my eyes. Just then, an unfamiliar number called. A deep, steady voice came through the line. “Amanda. My flight lands tomorrow afternoon. We need to discuss our wedding plans.” My fingers tightened around the phone. “Okay,” I replied. “I’ll be there to pick you up.” That night, a rumor began to circulate through our social circles. Robert Croft, the legendary lawyer whose name made corporations tremble, was coming home. Someone once gave a piece of advice that became gospel: If you don’t want to get sued into oblivion, don’t piss off Robert Croft. 9 At the international airport, Robert stood out. Dressed in a black cashmere overcoat, he commanded attention without trying. I walked up to him. “Welcome home, Counselor.” Robert leaned in and brushed a quick, firm kiss across my lips. “Amanda. It’s been too long. I missed you.” That night, I stayed at Robert’s apartment. After a tangle of sheets and whispered words, I lay with my head on his chest. “Robert,” I asked, “are you confident about that case?” He looked down at me, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re not going to ask about our wedding first? You jump straight to the case? You’re in a hurry, Amanda.” I playfully punched his chest. “Who’s in a hurry? I’ve already made the arrangements. We’re trying on wedding dresses tomorrow, and you’re coming with me.” “Alright.” I turned off the light, but sleep was a long time coming. The next day, at the bridal boutique, I ran into Vivian. She was preening in front of a mirror, draped in a gown that looked more like a coronation dress than a wedding dress. Her smile vanished when she saw me. “Amanda. What are you doing here?” I noticed she was holding her phone, clearly in the middle of a livestream. She turned back to the screen. “Darlings, calm down. Amanda has amazing taste. Lee probably sent her to help me choose. The wedding date? Oh, he’s picking one out now. It’s happening very soon.” She glided over to me, positioning her phone so we were both in the frame, like a selfie. “Amanda, say hi to my fans! And maybe you can clear up your relationship with Lee, so they don’t get the wrong idea?” The comments flew by in a blur of hatred. [WHAT SHOP IS THAT I’M ON MY WAY TO DEFEND OUR QUEEN!] [She’s so ugly! Do homewreckers have no standards these days?] [Ugh, can this bitch just die already!] I slapped the phone out of her hand. “Vivian, stop this. You’re a public figure. This is a disgrace.” She glanced at her dark phone screen on the floor and smirked. “Lee and I are getting married. Aren’t you panicking?” “I’m shaking in my boots, can’t you tell? Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re in my way.” “I recall calling the manager and booking the entire store,” a familiar voice cut through the air. “Why is there riffraff here?” Lee was standing behind us. Vivian gathered her massive skirt and ran to him. “Lee, thank God you’re here! Amanda was looking at me so frighteningly, and she smashed my phone. Oh, but I’m not blaming her! She’s probably just… emotional.” Lee’s gaze was locked on me. “Amanda, what are you trying to pull this time?” “Does she need to explain herself to you?” Another voice, cool and steady. Robert walked towards us, draping his suit jacket over his arm as he removed his gold-rimmed glasses. He slipped an arm around my shoulders. “Sorry I’m late, Amanda. Got held up.” Lee took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he sized Robert up. “Croft?” Robert smiled, a sharp, humorless thing. “A pleasure to meet you. I am Robert Croft. And I’m Amanda’s fiancé.” 10 Lee’s eyes snapped to me, wide with disbelief. “He’s the boyfriend you couldn’t talk about?” “It seems Amanda has already told you about me,” Robert said smoothly. “Our wedding is early next month. You’ll be sure to come, won’t you, Mr. Sinclair?” His tone was pure acid. I knew the dress fitting was a lost cause. I took Robert’s arm. “I booked another boutique. Shall we go there?” “Of course. Whatever you want.” As we walked past Lee, his hand shot out, trembling, brushing against my arm before he snatched it back as if burned. We had just exited the boutique when a man with a dark hoodie and shadowed eyes stepped into our path. He lunged, a blade flashing in his hand. “You hurt Vivian, you bitch! You die!” In a split second, Robert moved. He shoved me behind him, his leg snapping out in a vicious kick that sent the man sprawling to the ground. Ever since Vivian’s self-inflicted drama, I’d been getting calls from unknown numbers. Hysterical strangers screaming at me, telling me to die. Once, I even received a graphic, violent video threatening me. I never knew a stranger could hate someone they’d never met with such intensity. Today, the knife-wielding man was one of Vivian’s fanatics. He’d figured out my location from her livestream and had come for revenge. After the police had taken the man away, Robert asked, “Do you want me to sue Vivian for you?” I shook my head. “Just focus on the case.” A thin, red line had been carved into Robert’s left forearm. It wasn’t deep, but blood was welling up. “Amanda,” he said, his voice quiet and intense, “sometimes I really wonder if you feel anything for me besides… utility.”

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The moment I was reborn, I signed the divorce papers my wife threw at me. The man my wife, Isabella, had been keeping on the side was exposed. To save him from the infamy of being a homewrecker, she came to me, divorce agreement in hand, begging. “Dina died saving my life. Jerry is her only brother. I can’t just abandon him. Can’t you be the bigger person here?” Years ago, Isabella was targeted by a business rival. Her car was tampered with, and as it spun out of control, her best friend, Dina, lunged for the steering wheel, turning it just enough to save Isabella’s life. Isabella walked away without a scratch. Dina died from her injuries, but not before making Isabella promise to look after her younger brother, Jerry. In my past life, when I learned she was willing to sacrifice me for Jerry, I broke. I tore the divorce papers to shreds. But it didn’t matter. I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I was ready to let her go, to let myself go. But then Jerry whispered one poisonous sentence in her ear: “Do you think Adrian is just doing this to torment you, Isabella?” That was all it took. She became convinced I was faking my illness, that it was all a manipulative ploy to win her back. To escape the media pressure, she framed me for cheating, accused me of sexually assaulting an intern, and sued for divorce. Hopeless, I ended my own life ahead of schedule. 1 “Adrian, we’ll tell the public that we planned to divorce a year ago. It was just… postponed for various reasons.” I was staring into a glass of water in a quiet restaurant when Isabella’s voice cut through my thoughts. Just a day earlier, the tabloids had exploded with evidence suggesting Jerry was Isabella’s kept man. The word “mistress”—or in his case, the male equivalent—unleashed a torrent of public outrage against him. Isabella Thorne, the formidable CEO of Thorne Industries, was branded an adulterer. Her reputation for a chaotic private life sent the company’s stock into a nosedive overnight. In my last life, I’d laughed when the news first broke, scoffing at how easily the public could be misled by a few out-of-context photos. That laughter died on my lips the moment Isabella presented me with the divorce papers. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. I had screamed at her, demanding to know the truth about her and Jerry. If they were just rumors, there were a million ways to handle it. But she chose the one that threw me to the wolves. She claimed I had cheated first, that my incompetence had driven her to seek comfort elsewhere. “Adrian.” Isabella’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Trust me, this is just temporary. Once this all blows over, we’ll get remarried.” I slowly lifted my head, my gaze falling on the document sitting on the table between us. “Adrian, when this is over, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. How about that new sports car you wanted? I’ll buy it for you.” She moved closer, wrapping her arms around me in a practiced, wheedling gesture. Her eyes were wide with supplication, her voice a low, coaxing murmur. I remained silent. Standing just beside her, Jerry’s face was deathly pale. “Adrian, please, will you help me?” he pleaded. “I’m an orphan. My sister is gone. I have no one else. I don’t know who else to turn to. Please, Adrian.” With that, he made a show of bending his knees, preparing to kneel. Isabella moved like lightning, catching him, pulling him into a protective embrace. “What are you doing? A man does not kneel so easily!” she hissed at him, but her eyes, flashing with impatience, were on me. “I’ve already made my decision. I expect your full cooperation at the press conference tomorrow. Otherwise—” “I’ll sign.” I cut her off, tired of their disingenuous theatrics. And of course, I knew what her “otherwise” entailed. In my last life, not long after I tore up the papers, I was framed for assaulting an intern. “Proof” of my infidelity was leaked. Overnight, I went from the victim to a reviled pariah. And they, the ones truly at fault, walked away clean. 2 Isabella froze, clearly not expecting me to agree so quickly. “I’ll sign,” I repeated. “But I need you to promise me one thing.” I looked up at her, my expression as placid as still water. A complex emotion flickered across her face before she gave a curt nod. “You can ask for anything else, too. I’ll do my best to give you whatever you want.” I didn’t say another word. I picked up the pen, flipped to the last page of the agreement, and signed Adrian Vance with a clean, decisive stroke. “Aren’t you going to read it?” Isabella’s brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze fixed on me. I offered a faint smile. “No need. It’s pointless.” I capped the pen and pushed the document across the table to her. “Is there anything else?” My tone was as casual as if we were discussing the weather. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning to go to the courthouse.” I gave a slight nod but said nothing. Isabella’s eyes held a storm of emotions I couldn’t decipher, but in the end, she just sighed and turned to leave. Jerry trailed behind her. As he pulled the door open, he paused and glanced back at me over his shoulder. A mocking smirk twisted his lips. Then, with deliberate slowness, he mouthed three silent words. I. Won. Again. Then he was gone. In my last life, he was right. He won, and I lost everything. But this time, I had no intention of losing. Not a single thing. A while later, my phone lit up with a text from our mutual friend, Leo. “Dude, Isabella told me what’s happening. I know she’s in the wrong here.” “But you know how long it took her to get over Dina’s death. She’s channeling all her guilt into taking care of Jerry.” “She told me that once the dust settles, she wants to throw another huge wedding for you two. Just trust her, okay?” I let out a hollow laugh, a tear stinging the corner of my eye. It was just like last time. Isabella, desperate for me to sign, had roped her friends into her scheme. But she’d forgotten one crucial detail: her friends were also my friends. Leo couldn’t stand to see a love like ours crumble. He was stuck in the middle, trying to play peacemaker. He’d plead with Isabella not to throw her marriage away for Jerry, then turn around and tell me what a loyal, caring person she was, begging me to trust her. “If Dina hadn’t shielded her with her own body, Isabella wouldn’t be alive today,” he’d said. Back then, I had argued stubbornly. “She puts Jerry first in everything, and I get it. I know she feels guilty, so I’ve tried to be understanding. But there are a million ways to handle this, and she chose to sacrifice me—to sacrifice twelve years of our life together.” Leo had no answer for that. He’d once asked Isabella the same thing. Her reply was devastating. “Someone has to be the one to get hurt. It has to be Adrian. He loves me. He’ll understand why I have no other choice.” Because I loved her, I was the one who had to be sacrificed? What kind of logic was that? Thank God, this time, I still had a chance to change the outcome. 3 When it came to Jerry, Isabella was ruthlessly efficient. She got the signed agreement from me one day and scheduled a press conference for the very next morning. I was sitting in the garden when our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, led Isabella’s assistant to me. “Mr. Vance,” she said, her tone professionally crisp, “Ms. Thorne sent me to escort you to the press conference for Thorne Industries.” Before I could answer, she must have assumed I was going to refuse, because she recited Isabella’s own words verbatim. “Mr. Vance, even if not for Ms. Thorne’s sake, you should attend for the sake of your own reputation.” I paused, then let out a soft, humorless chuckle. She was threatening me again. Afraid I’d back out at the last minute, resorting to the same tactics she used in my last life. She would ruin my name to protect Jerry, leaving me with no choice but to bend to her will. I had never been able to figure it out. In Isabella’s heart, was I her husband, or her enemy? Well, she wanted to publicly clarify our relationship. So did I. The car moved smoothly toward New York’s most luxurious hotel. The entrance was already a chaotic sea of reporters and flashing cameras. The assistant guided me through the throng into the grand lobby. “Excuse me, could you please make way?” Isabella’s voice rang out from behind us. She appeared at the entrance, arm-in-arm with Jerry, who was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. They looked like a storybook couple. I turned, and my eyes met hers. For a fraction of a second, our gazes locked before she coolly looked away. She held onto Jerry, their demeanor intimate, as if the rest of the world—including me—didn’t exist. A self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. “Mr. Vance, are you and Ms. Thorne really divorced?” The question came from a young reporter, likely an intern, her voice trembling slightly. “Yes.” I curved my lips into a smile, my voice even, and nodded. She seemed determined to find a crack in my composure. “But you and Ms. Thorne met in college. You dated for five years, married for seven…” “Last month, she spent a fortune on a luxury yacht for you. The fireworks display for your birthday was the talk of the city…” I kept smiling, but my eyes were distant. “She owed me.” She had missed my birthday because Jerry had called her, whining, “I miss you, big sis. Can you spend the day with me?” The yacht and the fireworks were her apology gifts. In my last life, I had been so proud of those grand gestures, never once suspecting the real reason behind her “compensation.” I later learned the whole thing was Leo’s idea. Isabella hadn’t been involved at all. She didn’t even know where the fireworks had been set off. “You say she owed you,” the intern pressed on, her nervousness palpable as the surrounding chatter died down. “But what about your feelings for Ms. Thorne?” Isabella’s head snapped toward me, her brow furrowed. I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. My gaze turned to ice. “I don’t love her anymore.” 4 The intern started to ask another question, but a senior reporter beside her pulled her back. I didn’t stay for the rest of the conference. Once I had clarified my relationship with Isabella, I turned and walked away, ignoring the swarm of reporters still calling my name. Overnight, the narrative shifted dramatically. My interview dominated the headlines for days. Isabella’s statement was played on a loop: “Mr. Jerry Thorne is not the reason for the end of our marriage. His sister was a dear friend who saved my life, and it is my responsibility to care for him as her only living relative. Please, I ask you all to look at this situation rationally. Adrian and I planned for an amicable divorce over a year ago; we were simply waiting for the right time to announce it. We wanted to end our marriage in a way that would cause the least amount of harm to everyone involved. We are making this public now to clear up any misunderstandings about Mr. Thorne.” Instantly, Jerry was absolved. He went from “homewrecker” to the biggest “victim” in the entire scandal. And I became the villain. The heartless man who had initiated the divorce. Worse, guided by carefully placed leaks, people began to speculate on the “real” reason for our split. Rumors spread that I was impotent, that I had twisted, depraved tastes in the bedroom. That I had projected my own filthy thoughts onto their pure, sibling-like bond. That I had abandoned Isabella for a bigger piece of her fortune… I was at the center of a storm, battered by accusations from all sides. “Don’t take what they’re saying online to heart. In time, everyone will forget,” Isabella said as we stepped out of the courthouse, the divorce finalized. I shot her a look dripping with sarcasm. When Jerry was being attacked online, it was a crisis that required sacrificing our marriage. But when it was me, it was just something “time will heal.” “Adrian, the holidays are only three months away.” “You’ve always loved the spring. When spring comes, we’ll have another wedding, a better one. What do you say?” Her voice was soft, laced with a cautious tenderness. She reached for my hand, but I shifted away, my eyes fixed on the reporters being held back by bodyguards a short distance away. Sensing the rejection, Isabella took a step back, creating a space between us. “Isabella, I’m moving back to Westchester.” “That’s good. You should spend some time with your parents. I’ll come get you for the holidays and we’ll come back—” “I won’t be coming back,” I cut her off. She froze, the faint smile on her face stiffening. “Adrian, don’t say things you don’t mean. Just wait for me in Westchester, and I’ll—” “Isabella, when I signed those papers, you made me a promise. It’s time to make good on it.” She stared at me, her expression blank. When I was first reborn, I wondered if things could be different this time. But the moment she handed me that divorce agreement again, all I felt was a sense of release. “Isabella, I want you to disappear from my life. Forever.”

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The day I retired, my daughter arrived in tears. Her startup had failed, she said, leaving her a million dollars in debt. Fearing loan sharks would come for her and my grandson, I begged the hospital to rehire me and took on every side job I could find. Days were spent in surgery, nights driving for Uber and delivering food. I saved every cent for her debt, but the strain broke my health—I developed stomach cancer. When she saw the diagnosis, my daughter held me tight, crying, “Hospitals are too expensive, treatments are torture. Chemo makes your hair fall out. The doctor said it’s just inflammation. Let’s see a naturopath—herbs will cure you.” I believed her. She talked me out of treatment, and my early cancer spread until it was terminal. On my deathbed, I discovered the truth: her startup had succeeded years before. She was worth millions, spending five figures daily, a VIP at Hermès. She’d buy jewelry to please her mother-in-law but not pay to save me. Her poverty was an act of revenge—because years earlier, I’d saved her husband from a crash but couldn’t save his leg. Rage choked me; my soul shook. Then I opened my eyes. I was back—ten years earlier, on the day of my son-in-law’s car crash. 1 “Director, my mom has decided against the fellowship abroad. She won’t be signing the contract.” The moment I saw my daughter, Chloe, walking into the hospital with my grandson, Nathan, a cold dread washed over me. Something was terribly wrong. I glanced at the date on the contract in my hands, and my heart stopped. I was back. I had been reborn at the turning point of my career. The hospital administration wanted to groom me for a leadership position, and they had secured a prestigious, fully-funded international fellowship just for me. In my past life, to stay close to Chloe, I had turned down this priceless opportunity. The hospital director shook his head, his face a mask of disappointment. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Sarah. There’s only one spot. If you’re not going, I’ll have to offer it to someone else.” A bomb went off in my head. A once-in-a-lifetime chance. I couldn’t let it slip through my fingers again. I would not hand this victory to someone else. Just as the director began to pull the contract back, my hand shot out, pressing it flat against the desk. My voice trembled, a raw, desperate sound I barely recognized as my own. “I’ll go.” The director paused, surprised. “But Sarah, it’s a three-year program. Aren’t you worried your daughter will resent you?” Resent me? Even when I had devoted my entire existence to her family, putting her first at every turn, sacrificing my own health and happiness, what did I get in return? Nothing but blame and resentment. She wouldn’t even shed a single tear at my grave. Only now, in this second life, did I finally understand. I could neglect anyone in the world, but I could never again neglect myself. “The hospital has shown such faith in me, offering me this incredible opportunity to grow. I’m sure she’ll understand.” With that, I pulled the pen from my coat pocket, ready to sign. An opportunity like this wouldn’t wait. But before the ink could touch the paper, Chloe snatched the pen from my hand. She hurled it to the floor. It shattered, and a black stain bloomed across the pristine white tiles, like a spreading wound. Her face crumpled, and she began to sob, great, gulping breaths that left her gasping for air. “I don’t want you to go!” she wailed. “Mom, if you leave, what will we do? Nathan’s about to start middle school—it’s such a critical time! How can you even think about going abroad now? You’re too old for this kind of foolishness!” She clutched at her heart dramatically. “We all depend on you! What will we eat? Who will clean the house? Nathan’s clothes only ever get really clean when you wash them by hand! How can you be so cruel?” So, she knew what it was to struggle. My entire life had revolved around her, a life of endless labor and sacrifice. She wiped at her tears, her face a picture of pitiable misery. “Director, you’re doctors. You save lives. Patients worship you. You’re forcing my mother to go abroad against her will! Last night, she held me and promised she wouldn’t leave. I’m begging you, on my knees, please don’t force her to go.” As she spoke, she gave Nathan a sharp nudge. His face puckered, and he burst into a theatrical wail. “Grandma, don’t go! If you leave, who will give me allowance money? Mommy says you have lots of money for me!” Before he could say more, Chloe clamped a hand over his mouth, pulling him back. Then, taking him by the hand, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor in front of the director. The office fell into a stunned silence. The director was utterly flustered. “My dear child, what are you doing? Get up!” he pleaded, reaching for her. He turned to me, his expression troubled. “Dr. Sullivan, perhaps you should go home and discuss this further with your family.” I knew that if I walked out that door, my chance would be gone forever. Countless pairs of eyes in this hospital were watching this fellowship, waiting for me to falter. No matter what, I had to sign that contract. Today. 2 In my last life, Chloe cried for an entire night. She couldn’t bear for me to leave; she begged and pleaded for me to stay. Her tears wore me down, and I finally relented, deciding to remain in the country to be with her. But even that wasn’t enough. She constantly complained that her life was stifling, that her family wasn’t happy, that she wasn’t fulfilled. After she married Kevin, I felt sorry for her, juggling a household while paying off a mortgage and car loans. I gave her every spare cent I had. She complained that Nathan was falling behind in school and that Kevin didn’t earn enough. She lamented that being a housewife made people look down on her. My heart ached for her struggles, so I stepped in. I took over her household chores, cooked her meals, and did her laundry, tirelessly caring for her entire family. Finally, the day I retired arrived. I had already made plans with old friends to travel, to finally see the world. But that was the day my daughter came to me, weeping, and told me about her failed startup and the million-dollar debt. How could I bear to see her and my grandson hunted by loan sharks? So, I went back to the hospital, cap in hand, and took on any work they’d give me. I worked every waking hour. Hospital by day, Uber and DoorDash by night, saving every penny for her. Until the cancer diagnosis. My daughter fell into my arms, sobbing. “I looked it up online, Mom. Chemo just speeds things up. You won’t last three months. I found a famous naturopath who can cure you. His herbal formulas have saved countless cancer patients. Each treatment costs a fortune, thousands of dollars!” I was a doctor. I knew my own body. I knew there was still a chance, that surgery to remove the tumor could save me. But she had already purchased ten vials of the murky, brown liquid. Friends and relatives all praised her, telling me what a wonderful, devoted daughter I had. I assumed a treatment that cost thousands must be made of rare, miraculous ingredients. I couldn’t bear to throw it away, so I forced it down, sip by bitter sip. But the “medicine” only made me worse. My early-stage cancer raged into its final, terminal phase. For a full month, I was tortured by agonizing pain. The bitter concoction couldn’t sustain me. My belly swelled with ascites until it was taut as a drum. In the end, there was nothing left but to let the tumors devour my organs, leaving me hollowed out and filled with poison. Even as I died, Chloe never shed a single tear. It was on the seventh day after my death, the day my soul was said to return, that I learned everything. Chloe and her family had been using my compassion all along, turning me into their unpaid maid, their personal ATM. They drained my salary and my pension, secretly using it to fund her business venture. They bled me dry, down to the very last drop. She had been lying to me the entire time. Her startup had been profitable for years. In just five years, she’d built a company and become its CEO. In ten, she was a multimillionaire. She spent ten thousand dollars a day without a second thought, a VIP at Hermès. She would spend a hundred thousand on jewelry for her mother-in-law without batting an eye but refused to spend a single penny on me. And the thousand-dollar “miracle cure”? It was a lie. She’d found some charlatan to prescribe the cheapest, most common herbs. The daughter I trusted, the daughter I adored, had deceived me my entire life. She was a viper I had warmed at my own breast. Even on the night of my funeral, she remained dry-eyed. Her voice was light, almost casual, as she spoke to a relative. “She should have died a long time ago. Even if I were a billionaire, I wouldn’t have spent a cent on her. It’s what she deserved. It’s her fault she only saved Kevin’s life but not his leg. She condemned me to a life of being mocked for marrying a cripple. I hated her for it. I’m glad she’s gone. Otherwise, I’d always be worried she’d find out about my money and expect me to support her.” The rage was so powerful it felt like it would tear my spirit apart. How could I not feel betrayed? How could I not be filled with hate? Tears of blood fell from my spectral eyes, my heart a void of despair. My entire life had been for Chloe, and my reward was to die in agony, utterly alone. Reborn, I would live for myself. This time, I would put myself first. 3 The director, caught in the middle, tried to reason with me. “Her son is starting middle school this year, Sarah. It’s a big transition. There will be other opportunities. Perhaps you can go next time.” My mind raced. This was the chance I had to seize, the greatest regret of my previous life. How could I let it go again? My voice was hoarse but firm. “Director, she’s a grown woman with her own family. She is more than capable of taking care of herself. I am ready. I can leave whenever necessary.” At my words, Chloe’s eyes widened. Tears welled up instantly, and she tightened her grip on the director’s arm. “What does being married matter? I’m still my mother’s little girl! Mom, even if you can bear to leave me, can you bear to leave Nathan? He’s your only grandson!” She shot a look at Nathan, who immediately picked up his cue. “I’d rather drop out of school than be without my Grandma!” he cried. The director’s face fell. “Now, that’s just nonsense.” He clearly thought this was a domestic squabble I hadn’t managed properly. “Sarah, I have a patient waiting. Why don’t you take your family outside for now.” The thread of tension inside me finally snapped. Seeing the director reach for the contract on his desk, I grabbed the pen from the holder and, without a second thought, scrawled my name across the signature line. The director stared, stunned for a half-second. “You… you signed it?” I pushed the document toward him, my voice steady. “It’s signed. As soon as my visa is approved, I’m ready to go.” Chloe clearly hadn’t expected me to act so decisively. She grabbed my arm, her grip like a vise. “Mom, what is wrong with you? Who are you trying to punish? I got on my knees and begged you, and you still won’t stay! This whole family depends on you! If you leave, what happens to us? How can you be so selfish?” Her eyes burned with a furious, resentful glare. “If you don’t care about me, then I might as well just go die right now, and don’t you dare try to stop me!” Something in me broke. My hand flew up, seemingly of its own accord, and I slapped her, hard, across the face. In this life and the last, it was the first time I had ever struck her. The blow was charged with all the bitterness and rage of my past life. The force of it was so great my own palm stung and went numb. Her shocked, hateful eyes met mine. I stared back at her, my voice cold as ice. “Chloe, let that be a lesson to you.” Years ago, her husband, Kevin, had been in a multi-car pile-up. The emergency room was overflowing with victims. I was scheduled for back-to-back surgeries. When I heard my own son-in-law was among the injured, fresh out of one operation, my heart seized with fear for Chloe. I swore to myself I would do whatever it took to save him, to make sure she and Nathan wouldn’t be left alone. Family members are never supposed to operate on their own relatives, but the situation was dire. Only I had the specific skills he needed. Kevin couldn’t wait. After a grueling four-hour surgery, I had saved him. But to save his life, in a critical moment, I had made the call to amputate his leg above the knee. From that day on, Kevin hated me with a passion. He never missed a chance to lash out. “Why did you save me? You should have just let me die! I don’t want to live like this, a pathetic cripple!” It was the exact same look of hatred I saw in Chloe’s eyes now. Blood, it seemed, never lies. Chloe’s voice was venomous. “If you walk out that door, I will hate you for the rest of my life.” She clutched her cheek and ran from the office, sobbing. I let out a slow breath. She had hated me for a long time already. What difference did one more lifetime make? Signing the contract was just the first step. I still had three months before my departure—a probationary period for the hospital to finalize its decision. As long as I didn’t make any mistakes, the fellowship was mine. But it wasn’t long before anonymous complaints started flooding the administration. The director called me into his office. “These are all coming from the same person, and they’re being sent from within the city,” he said, his brow furrowed. “Sarah, have you made an enemy of someone?” My first thought was Chloe. She would stop at nothing to keep me here. 4 “Dr. Sullivan, consider this a warning. We have a delegation from the board coming for an inspection in a few days. Don’t let anything go wrong.” This inspection was a major event. The top brass was coming to evaluate the hospital’s overall performance and the professionalism of its staff. The administration was on high alert, and our days were filled with preparations. I knew that the anonymous complaints, without any real evidence, were just noise. But this… this would be different. To keep the peace, I had continued sending Chloe her monthly allowance. I thought that with her own work, she would be too busy to cause more trouble. But somehow, she found out the exact date of the inspection. And on that very morning, she appeared at the hospital. A sense of foreboding washed over me. Before I could even call out to her, a nurse came running towards me, out of breath. “Dr. Sullivan, it’s an emergency!” My heart sank. The nurse gasped, “There’s a family making a scene downstairs! They’re saying you killed their relative. They’re blocking the entrance. You have to go handle it!” I glanced at my watch. Eight o’clock. The delegation was due to arrive at the main entrance in exactly one hour. I had to resolve this, and fast. When I got to the lobby, the scene was worse than I imagined. A man in a wheelchair and a young boy, maybe seven or eight years old, were dressed in black. They were holding a large white banner with crude, crimson letters painted on it: “METROPOLITAN GENERAL SURGEON SARAH SULLIVAN IS A MURDERER!” The bright red words on the white cloth were impossible to miss. A crowd of patients and visitors had gathered. The little boy was chanting, his voice high and piercing, “Sarah Sullivan, give me back my mommy! Sarah Sullivan is a murderer!” As I stepped forward, the man in the wheelchair spat in my direction. “Don’t you come any closer! You take one more step and I’ll ram this chair into a wall and kill myself right here!” In my decades as a surgeon, I had never had a single malpractice case. I knew, with absolute certainty, that these people were actors. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder. “Isn’t that Dr. Sullivan? She operated on my son. I can’t believe someone with her skills would make a mistake like that!” “Maybe her reputation is all hype. They call her the ‘Saint of Surgery,’ don’t they?” “Some saint. She’s not even a department head yet. If she was that good, why hasn’t she been promoted?” The situation was spiraling out of control. “Charge Nurse,” I called out, my voice ringing with authority. “Pull the medical records for this woman. If there’s no record of her being a patient here, call security and have them arrested for slander.” Every patient is registered in our system. A quick search would expose their lie. My eyes darted to the corner of the lobby, where Chloe was hiding, and my blood ran cold. But before the nurse could even get to a computer, a shuttle bus pulled up to the front entrance. “Dr. Sullivan, the delegation is here,” my hospital rival, Dr. Manning, said with a smirk. “Good luck explaining this.” I glanced at my watch. Eight-thirty. They were half an hour early. As expected. The sight of the protest at the hospital entrance immediately soured the lead delegate’s mood. Even my own director’s face darkened. “Dr. Sullivan, what is the meaning of this?” he hissed, then shot me a look. “Get this under control. Now.” At that moment, Chloe burst from her hiding spot. She ran to the center of the chaos and grabbed the director’s arm. “Director, please, I’m begging you, don’t let my mother go abroad for that fellowship! Her family needs her here!” The delegate’s face was a stony mask. He turned to the director. “Director Miller, do you not vet the qualifications of the doctors you select for such a prestigious opportunity?” Clearly, my professional record was now in question. Chloe’s voice was thick with manufactured tears. “Mom, please, stop being so stubborn! You’ve already killed a patient! Going abroad now would just be an embarrassment. Why are you doing this?” My face burned with humiliation. I wrenched my arm away from her. “What are you talking about?” I took a deep, steadying breath. “These people are strangers. Someone hired them to cause a scene. I have never treated their supposed relative. I request a search of the patient database to prove my innocence.” Director Miller nodded. “The records don’t lie. Check them now.” Just as the charge nurse reached a terminal, her phone rang. Her expression shifted, her face growing pale and grim. “Understood. We’re preparing now.” She hung up, her voice tight with urgency. “Director, there’s been a multi-car pile-up in the Crestview Tunnel, involving a tour bus. City Central is overwhelmed and they’re diverting patients to us. We have twenty-three incoming, including two critical.” I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second. It was happening. It was all happening again. The first rule of a hospital is to save lives. My personal vindication would have to wait. Nurses and orderlies were already rushing outside with gurneys. The first ambulances were arriving, their sirens wailing. The lobby transformed into a triage unit. I was about to move toward the ER when the lead delegate stopped me. “Someone else can take the lead. Her judgment is compromised.” His eyes, and everyone else’s, flickered towards the two protestors still blocking the entrance. Chloe’s face was just beginning to light up with triumph when she saw a familiar figure being wheeled in on a gurney. His face was a mask of blood, shards of glass embedded in his flesh. Chloe’s face went white. A raw, guttural scream tore from her throat. “KEVIN!!!” I narrowed my eyes, looking at the broken man on the gurney. A moment later, my arm was seized in a desperate grip. Chloe’s voice was a frantic, pleading whisper. “Mom… Mom, please, you have to save him! You have to save Kevin!”

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I woke up as the stepmother to the heroine of a trashy forced-love webnovel. Staring at the male lead—a walking felony—and the drugged-and-baited plotline unfolding before me, my mind went blank. Was the author allergic to the law? It’s the 21st century. Who still writes this kind of coercive garbage? Right now, the story was just beginning. My new stepdaughter, Vivian, was a beautiful, tragic mess, while the male lead, Liam—fresh off an attempted assault—wore a smug smirk that screamed, You can’t escape me. I was about to call the cops, but I stopped myself. No. Following this trashy novel’s logic, the police would just show up and tell us to play nice. Seeing Vivian’s trembling shoulders, a much more permanent solution sparked in my mind. I smiled and pressed a pair of sharp shears into her hand. “Don’t be scared, honey. Mom’s about to teach you the oldest form of revenge in the book.” “Go on. Castrate the bastard. Let’s see what he uses to commit crimes then.” 1. The dean’s office fell into a dead silence. Everyone was stunned, frozen in place by my words. Vivian’s eyes widened in disbelief, her lips parting as if to object. “…Isn’t that a bit much…?” “What’s wrong with it? It’s not like we can’t afford the legal fees.” I shot a dismissive glance at Liam, my tone casual. The words seemed to sting the teenage boy’s pride, but I wasn’t done. I decided to pour a little gasoline on the fire. “Don’t worry about the money. Your father just acquired Liam’s family company. Our net worth just doubled, sweetie.” That was the last straw for Liam. He turned, his eyes red with humiliation, and bolted from the room. Hah. We’re just getting started and he’s already crying? In the novel, Vivian’s father was a titan of industry. After he acquired the floundering Thorne Corporation, Liam’s family was ruined overnight, and Liam blamed Vivian for it all. He and his little gang of delinquents had planned to corner her in the girls’ bathroom and strip her naked, a plot that was only foiled by a passing classmate. “What was it you were saying earlier? ‘No smoke without fire’?” I cornered the dean, my voice dripping with ice. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Teenagers… they horse around. It’s normal…” “How about we lock your daughter in a room with this little punk and let them ‘horse around’ for a while?” I raised an eyebrow. The dean, who had been so eager to smooth things over, immediately fell silent. Because he did, in fact, have a daughter. 2. The farce ended with the expulsion of Liam and his cronies. This was the one advantage of being the heroine of a dark romance—she had the backing of the immensely powerful and wealthy Sterling family. Sure, in the original story, all that wealth just ended up being a stepping stone for the male lead, but for now, the Sterlings were untouchable in this city. Dealing with a few spoiled brats was laughably simple. A single, quiet word from me was all it took for the dean’s office to issue the expulsion notices at lightning speed. “Mom… thank you for helping me.” Vivian gently tugged on my hand. The sweet, fragile girl tilted her pale face up at me, teardrops still clinging to her lashes. Her eyes were filled with a hesitant, hopeful curiosity. That look sent a tremor through my heart, and my voice softened instinctively. “Silly girl. It’s a mother’s duty to protect her daughter, isn’t it?” Truthfully, when I first woke up in this world, I felt no connection to this ready-made daughter. I only intervened because of the original plot. After Vivian was brutalized by the various male leads, her father blamed me, his stepwife, for being negligent. Ignoring the law entirely, he had me dismembered and fed to the dogs. So, until I could find a way back to my own world, my first priority was staying alive. Which meant taking care of Vivian. But after spending these past few days with her, seeing this girl who was so heartbreakingly gentle and good, I couldn’t remain a detached observer any longer. And so, a new item was added to my daily agenda: Keep an eye on the hormone-addled little monsters whose every waking thought revolved around forcing themselves on my daughter. And if necessary, confiscate their ‘tools of the trade.’ 3. After a scene like that, school was out of the question for a while. I decided to take Vivian straight home. As we settled into the car, I noticed her school uniform was so old it had faded. I frowned. This was a private academy; uniforms weren’t mandatory. The campus was full of girls dressed in the latest fashions. But Vivian wore this same old uniform, day in and day out. I understood why. Her whole life, she had attracted unwanted male attention, and so she deliberately avoided anything that might make her stand out. But I refused to accept that retreat. “Come here.” I gently pulled Vivian closer. Her body was frail, almost bird-like. She looked malnourished. The damned novel, in its quest to make the heroine “delicate and easily overpowered,” had made the poor girl far too thin. “Change of plans,” I told the driver. “Take us to the Grandview Plaza.” Vivian looked at me, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. “Mom, what are we doing there?” “Buying you some new clothes.” I saw her avoid my gaze and took her hand in mine. “You can’t wear that old uniform forever.” Half an hour later, we were in a high-end boutique. Vivian stared at the racks of colorful dresses, a clear longing in her eyes, but she didn’t dare touch a thing. “Try this one.” I took a daffodil-yellow dress from the rack. The collar was adorned with tiny, delicate pearls. She hesitated before taking it and followed the sales associate to the fitting room. When she emerged, shy and uncertain, I couldn’t help but smile. The warm color beautifully complemented her fair skin, and the cut was elegant and classic. But Vivian kept tugging at the hem, her eyes darting around nervously. “It’s too bright… Won’t it attract too much attention?” she whispered. I walked to her side, looking at our reflection in the mirror. “It’s beautiful, Vivian. You deserve all the beautiful things in the world.” “But…” She looked down. “The boys… they always say such awful things…” “Then let them talk.” I placed my hands on her shoulders, making her look at our reflection. “Look. There is nothing wrong with this dress. It is beautiful. The problem is with the people who look at you with filth in their eyes.” Vivian stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes turning red. Suddenly, she spun around and threw her arms around me, her voice choked with sobs. “Mom, I’m scared… I never know what to do…” Feeling her thin frame tremble in my arms, I stroked her hair, a new resolve hardening within me. “Don’t be afraid,” I said softly. “Mom will teach you how to protect yourself.” The next day, I took her to the best combat training gym in the city. If this world was determined to be cruel, then I would teach my daughter how to fight back, beautifully. 4. Things, however, didn’t go exactly as I’d planned. Three times a week, I personally accompanied Vivian to the gym. What started as a way to protect her soon became our special time together. “Mom, am I just stupid?” After her first class, Vivian looked down at the bruises on her knees, her voice heavy with disappointment. The instructor pulled me aside. “Mrs. Sterling, this is really tough for a girl like her. Have you considered something else for Vivian? Dance, or piano, wouldn’t that be more suitable?” Dance? Piano? What good were those? They were just different settings for the male leads to assault her in. I gently applied ointment to her bruises. “Who ever said you have to learn things quickly? We’ll take our time.” I sat on the sidelines during her sessions, watching her fall and get back up, again and again. The instructor, a man named Coach Zhang, kept trying to change my mind. “I’ve been teaching for ten years, and this is the least talented kid I’ve ever seen. She trips over her own feet, her skin bruises if you look at it wrong, and her body is so soft it’s like she doesn’t have bones. At this rate, she’ll never build any muscle tone.” But, mindful of the Sterling family’s wealth, he phrased his suggestion delicately. “Perhaps another hobby would be more… fitting?” I just smiled and handed Vivian a towel and a bottle of water. “As long as she enjoys it.” By the third week, Vivian finally mastered a complete defensive maneuver. She was so happy that night she even linked her arm through mine on the way home. The real change happened in the fourth week. Coach Zhang ran up to me, his face alight with excitement. “Incredible! She’s a natural! No matter how hard I train her, she’s completely recovered by the next day! Her flexibility is off the charts, and her pain tolerance is unreal! This girl is a prodigy!” I had a pretty good idea why. The damned webnovel’s ridiculous heroine-centric logic was finally doing something useful. But for me, the most important thing wasn’t how many moves she learned, but the fact that the light in her eyes shone brighter every day. On the morning of the thirty-third day, I opened her bedroom door and found her standing in front of the mirror, wearing the daffodil-yellow dress we had bought together. “Mom,” she said, turning around with a smile I hadn’t seen in years. “I want to wear this to school today.” In that moment, I knew something had fundamentally changed. But I felt a mix of pride and worry, so I decided to discreetly follow her in my car. And sure enough, getting rid of Liam just meant a new problem would pop up. Just outside the school gates, Male Lead Number Two appeared: John Tank. The Tank family was second only to the Sterlings. John and Vivian had known each other since childhood; they were the classic “childhood friends” trope. When I first read the book, I had even rooted for this “guiding” romance. But seeing it in person, I realized that his “guidance” was just carefully packaged manipulation. All his talk of, “You’re only getting stared at because you dress so flamboyantly,” and “Good girls are more modest…” That kind of rhetoric was probably the real root of Vivian’s chronic lack of confidence. Just as I was thinking this, John walked up to Vivian. 5. John’s brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed on her bright dress. His tone was laced with an undeniable reprimand. “Vivian, why are you wearing something like this again? It’s too flashy. It’s not for you.” The old Vivian would have immediately bowed her head in shame and mumbled an apology. But today, she just looked at him, her spine straight. “John, what I wear is my business.” John was clearly taken aback by her defiance. He paused, then his voice grew harsher. “I’m just looking out for you. Have you forgotten how all your previous troubles started? Dressing like this will only attract more of the wrong kind of attention.” A small crowd of students began to gather, whispering among themselves. “How dare she talk back to John like that…” “Well, he’s not wrong. That dress is a little revealing…” “She only wears those clothes to seduce guys, anyway…” Hearing the murmurs, a flicker of certainty crossed John’s face, as if public opinion was naturally on his side. But Vivian took a deep breath and turned to face the whispering crowd. “Is it my fault that I attract attention? Who is the real source of the trouble? The people with malicious thoughts, or me, for simply wearing a dress?” “If wearing something beautiful is a sin, then that’s a belief I refuse to accept.” John’s face darkened. “Vivian, you’re being childish. Everyone is just saying this because they don’t want you to get hurt. Now, apologize to everyone.” “The real hurt,” Vivian’s voice was quiet but unshakably firm, “comes from people close to me, who criticize and police me under the guise of ‘looking out for me.’ You make me feel like my very existence is a mistake.” She paused, then said, word by word, “John, please stop trying to manipulate me. I don’t need it.” I stood in the shade of a nearby tree, watching my daughter stand her ground against a tide of judgment, and a wave of pride and warmth washed over me. My little girl was all grown up. But John’s expression had turned thunderous. Vivian’s public refusal had humiliated him. He took a step forward, his voice tight with suppressed rage. “Vivian, do you have to be like this? Look at yourself, what have you become?” The whispers from the crowd only fueled his anger. “What’s wrong with her? John’s just trying to help.” “Seriously, so ungrateful.” Believing he still had the crowd on his side, John grew bolder. He lunged forward and grabbed Vivian’s slender wrist, his other hand reaching for the shoulder strap of her dress in a shockingly aggressive move. “Let go of me!” Vivian warned, struggling to break free. “I’m going to make you see sense today! These slutty clothes don’t suit you at all!” Humiliated and enraged, John didn’t let go. He pulled harder, clearly intending to rip her dress off in front of everyone. And not a single person in the crowd moved to stop him. In fact, some were praising him for his “sincere concern.” This goddamn novel and its twisted logic. I pushed my car door open, ready to intervene. John was still spewing venom. “It must be that new stepmother of yours. I knew a social-climbing slut like her would be a bad influence—” “Shut your mouth!” In a flash, Vivian’s eyes sharpened. Her body sank slightly. Using his grip as leverage, she twisted, her hips and core engaged— And executed a clean, sharp shoulder throw.

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The siblings who found me in the trash were just cannon fodder in a novel. The brother was the gloomy, brooding type, destined to be bewitched by the sunny heroine. The sister was sensitive and starved for love, destined to sacrifice everything for the hero. They thought they found salvation. But the main couple just used them as stepping stones. To protect my newfound wealth and luxury, I decided to steal the protagonists’ jobs! When my brother was feeling depressed, I kissed his cheek: “Mwah! Soft and sweet. Brother, you’re a cupcake!” Even the coldest man would smile at that. When my sister cried alone at night, I wailed even louder. “The pretty stars are drowning in tears! What do we do?!” She laughed through her tears and hugged me. Later, the desperate protagonists came knocking, trying to manipulate them. But they found the siblings staying up all night, frantically finishing my kindergarten art project. 1 As I drowned saving a child, I made a wish: in my next life, I wanted to be born smelling expensive perfume, hearing the hearty laugh of an old-money father, and feeling the gentle pat of a billionaire grandfather. I opened my eyes… and I was lying peacefully in a dumpster. Seriously? I thought good karma was a thing. Why is my start harder than Dark Souls? The lid was closed. The smell of rotting garbage was suffocating. I looked at my chubby baby hands and sighed internally. There was only one option. Cry! After howling for who knows how long, footsteps approached. Leather shoes on pavement. The lid opened. Light! Salvation! I stared at a middle-aged man in a crisp suit and white gloves. A butler! It must be my butler! I knew I was a lost heiress switched at birth! I reached out to him desperately. Take me to my 10,000-square-foot mansion with a pool! Mommy and Daddy are waiting! Minutes later, I was in a black luxury car. Staring at two high schoolers in expensive private school uniforms. “Young Master, Miss,” the butler said hesitantly. “We’re near the slums. This child is likely abandoned. Should we take her to the police station?” Me: “…” I’m doomed. The two teenagers, beautiful beyond reality, nodded coldly. The butler smiled. “Then I’ll trouble you to watch her for a moment.” He shoved me into the boy’s arms. The “Young Master” held me stiffly, like I was a bomb. I’m a sucker for beauty. Seeing a face that put pop stars to shame, I couldn’t help reaching out to touch him. Seeing his sister smirk, his face darkened. He shoved me at her. “So troublesome. You hold her.” The “Miss” froze just as stiffly. Seeing their matching god-tier faces, I giggled. She started to smile, but seeing her brother’s amused look, she pouted. “Smells like trash. Gross.” She dumped me on the seat between them. The car was wide enough for three. But thinking about the orphanage life awaiting me, I started wailing for real. The boy, annoyed by the noise, picked me up. Seeing his face, I stopped crying and smiled. He put me down. I cried. The girl picked me up. I smiled. She put me down. I cried. They found this entertaining. Like a game of hot potato. Up, down, up, down. “Hahaha—” “Waaah—” “Hahaha—” “Waaah—” After twenty rounds, the butler spoke gently. “We’re at the police station.” I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to blow the roof off the car. The siblings looked at each other. Seconds later, they spoke in unison: “Keep her.” 2 The butler was efficient. Adoption papers were sorted fast. I learned who they were. The Thorne siblings, heirs to the biggest fortune in the city. And I was now their sister, Penny Thorne. Don’t be jealous yet. Because these two are the biggest cannon fodder in a “childhood sweethearts to lovers” novel! They have money and looks, but no family. Their parents divorced after they were born and went back to their first loves. The kids were just business assets. Unloved children grow up weird. Julian (the brother) and Chloe (the sister) were both twisted and difficult. Even though they were twins, they hated each other. Worse, they were targeted by the novel’s protagonists, a pair of manipulative “sweethearts” who clawed their way out of a bad neighborhood. The protagonists orchestrated scenarios to meet the siblings and drive them apart. Julian, gloomy and cold, would be drawn to the “sunny” heroine. Chloe, sensitive and needy, would sacrifice everything for the hero. They thought they found salvation. But they were just stepping stones. Used, drained, and kicked aside. Readers called the protagonists “morally grey icons.” I called them trash. Right now, I wasn’t feeling great either. Even the imported formula tasted bland. Babies are simple. Unhappy? Cry. I wailed, attracting Julian and Chloe. The nanny held me, sweating. “I don’t know what’s wrong! She won’t stop crying.” Julian took me, and I stopped instantly. They stared. The nanny chuckled. “Young Master, she likes you.” The corner of his mouth twitched up, then he forced it down. “Troublesome. Cry again and you go back in the trash.” Me: “…” Rude! I reached for Chloe. She looked surprised and extended her arms cautiously. But Julian walked away with me. “She’s sleepy. Next time.” Chloe gritted her teeth. “She wanted me! Give her back!” “You’ll drop her. Clumsy.” “Julian!” … Listening to them bicker, I fell asleep clutching my fist. My brother and sister are good kids. I won’t let those protagonists near them! 3 Being a baby has perks. I can be a tyrant. If I didn’t see Julian or Chloe for a few hours, I screamed. The nanny checked the clock. Lunch break. She dialed. “How’s Penny?” Chloe’s voice. I babbled and grabbed the phone. “Ahhh!” “Say sister.” “Gah!” Chloe laughed. Julian took the phone. He gave instructions about vaccines, formula amounts, and massages. He had become a pro dad-brother. When they got home, he fed me and changed me. Chloe played with me and taught me to talk. They still fought over who got to hold me, but the empty mansion felt warmer. Today, they were late. The butler cooed, “Brother and Sister went to the old estate for their birthday. They’ll be late.” In the original plot, their parents were supposed to come back for their birthday. The twins pretended not to care but were secretly hopeful. They waited for hours. When they called, they found out their parents forgot. No apology. Just a money transfer. Did they need money? No. They needed love. That disappointment made them vulnerable to the protagonists’ fake warmth. Sure enough, when they returned, they looked gloomy and defeated. They went straight to their rooms without seeing me. I sighed. Time for the nuclear option. “WAAAAH!” Soon, a door slammed. Julian stomped in, checking my diaper. “It’s dry. Why are you crying?” I ignored him and wailed louder. He couldn’t soothe me. Defeated, he called Chloe. Her eyes were red. Seeing me crying made her crankier. She dumped me in the cradle. “Sleep!” I batted at the wind chimes above me, forcing sounds out of my baby throat. “Ha-pee… ha-pee… ha-pee…” My babbling combined with the chimes sounded vaguely like “Happy Birthday.” They froze. Julian covered his face and laughed. Chloe huffed, turning away, but she was smiling too. I relaxed. Just as I was drifting off, Julian pulled out his phone. “Do it again. I don’t want you growing up saying we didn’t record your childhood.” Me: ??? Just say you want to flex on Instagram. 4 Soon, they were juniors in high school. We successfully dodged the plot points where they met the protagonists. I relaxed. Then Julian disappeared. The butler sent search parties. He was gone for a day and night. He returned covered in bruises, followed by a girl in a white dress who looked equally messy. She looked innocent, but her eyes scanned the villa with calculation. Danger! My inheritance is in danger! The doctor treated them. Julian explained he went hiking, met the heroine, Bella, and they fell down a slope. Phones broke. Me: “…” I don’t believe this was an accident. Bella saw Julian playing with me. “Is this your sister? So cute!” Julian loved hearing me praised. He looked at her warmly. “Want to hold her?” “Sure!” Stay back, demon! As she reached out, I screamed bloody murder. Louder than ever before. Julian paused, looking at the awkward Bella. “Sorry, she’s shy with strangers.” Bella adjusted quickly, praising my “high alertness.” Julian beamed and told the butler to drive her home. Classic heroine moves. She charmed my idiot brother already. Chloe came home late, checking her phone constantly, smiling like a loon. First love syndrome. Alarm bells rang in my head. Julian frowned. “Where were you?” “None of your business!” “Are you dating?” “You’re one to talk! Disappearing into the woods with a girl overnight and bringing her home? Who’s dating?” “We were worried sick, and you were having fun.” Julian was speechless. Chloe scoffed and went to her room. I waved my arms helplessly. The protagonists arrived, and the alliance shattered.

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One chaotic night, I accidentally got pregnant with my stepbrother’s child. I remembered a few weeks earlier at dinner, our parents had been nagging him about marriage. He answered calmly: “I already have someone I like.” I nearly blacked out. Great. Now I’m the homewrecker in my own family. I stayed up all night applying for grad schools in Europe, planning to get an abortion and flee the country. But while I was waiting outside the operating room, a hand grabbed my wrist. My stepbrother’s voice was cold and obsessive: “Do you hate me that much?” “You’d rather kill our child and run away than tell me the truth? Is that it, my dear little sister?” 1 My mom married a billionaire when I was three. It was a whirlwind romance that ended in a fairytale wedding, and I, naturally, was part of the package deal. I grew up in the Thorne mansion. My stepfather adored my mom and treated me like his own. I genuinely saw him as my dad and his son, Julian, as my brother. Julian was good to me when we were kids. But as we got older, we drifted apart. It happens. I was sad about it for a while, but I eventually accepted that I had gone from his “beloved little sister” to just “that relative living in the house.” I had just made peace with it when the accident happened. 2 I woke up in Julian’s bed, my body aching all over. I stared at the ceiling, my brain slowly rebooting. The chaotic memories of last night came rushing back like a freight train. Vague fragments of someone whispering, “Don’t cry, baby.” And some… much more explicit phrases. I covered my ears, trying to block out the memories. Failed. Worse, the person next to me felt me move and instinctively tightened his grip, pulling me into his chest. His voice was thick with sleep. “You awake, baby?” I stopped breathing. I didn’t dare look up. He couldn’t know it was me. Julian has a girlfriend. He said so himself. Last weekend at dinner, our parents were talking about the neighbor’s new grandchild, which naturally led to them pressuring Julian about marriage. “Julian, you’re 25. Anyone special in your life?” Mom asked. We were in the living room. I was sprawled on the couch playing video games; Dad had his arm around Mom. Julian said, “Yes.” I looked up from my game, curious. My brother is handsome, rich, and has a good temperament. He’s had girls chasing him since kindergarten. He rejected all of them. Who did he finally fall for? I blinked. “Bro, who is it? Do I know her?” He glanced at me but didn’t answer. I pressed on. “Who? Who is she? Why are you hiding her?” Julian suddenly snapped. He sneered, “Who my girlfriend is is none of your business.” I rubbed my nose, feeling wronged. Mom and Dad pressured you, why yell at me? I’m just the punching bag. Siblings really do drift apart. He won’t even tell me who he’s dating. But forget about the girlfriend for a second. The problem right now is that Julian’s hands are wandering. I buried my face in his chest, frozen. He couldn’t see my face. “Baby, it’s still early,” he murmured lazily. What does that mean?! I went rigid. He thinks I’m his girlfriend. Do they wake up like this every day?? If I look up, I’m dead. He still hasn’t realized. Maybe because I’m silent, he thinks I’m consenting. Just as he was about to prop himself up and see my face, I panicked. I turned over and buried my head under the pillow. “Hmm?” He chuckled, a low, vibrating sound. “You like that?” He leaned over. “Baby, call me big brother.” AHHHH! NO! Why are you guys like this?! 3 I refused to come out from under the pillow. Julian probably never imagined the person in his bed wasn’t his girlfriend. He patted my head. “Shy?” I muffled a reply: “Go away.” He sighed helplessly. “I’ll go make lunch. Rest a bit, I’ll wake you when it’s ready.” Click. The door finally closed. I crawled out of the blankets and stared at my body. I pinched myself. It hurt. It wasn’t a dream!! Julian is outside. And I, his sister… I only remember attending a gala with him last night. The champagne tasted weird. We both drank it. I lost my mind, and Julian apparently mistook me for his girlfriend, calling me “baby” the whole time. And then… this happened. I covered my face. What am I going to do?! I need to escape. Julian’s apartment has an open kitchen. If I walk out, he’ll see me. While I was panicking, Julian came back. I heard the door and yanked the covers up. He patted my head through the quilt. “Still shy, baby?” His voice was so gentle. Oh my god, does he talk to his girlfriend like this? “We’re out of Coke. I’m running to the store to get some for the wings. Don’t panic if you can’t find me, I’ll be right back.” Does his girlfriend love Coke wings too? Who doesn’t? Wait. Focus. He’s leaving. Thank God. 4 As soon as I heard the front door close, I scrambled out of bed. My dress was torn. I opened the closet to borrow his girlfriend’s clothes, but it was full of men’s suits. Huh? No women’s clothes? Maybe there’s a walk-in closet? No time to check. I grabbed one of his shirts and a jacket. Julian is 6’3″, almost eight inches taller than me. I looked like a child playing dress-up. I rolled up the sleeves and pants, grabbed the shreds of my dress, and fled. Once I was out of the complex, I exhaled. Safe. Even if Julian realizes it wasn’t his girlfriend last night, he’ll never guess it was me. Our sibling relationship can still be salvaged. 5 I stopped at a boutique to change into normal clothes before going home. Back in my room, I rolled around on my soft bed. I hadn’t slept till dawn, and then… more exercise this morning. My nerves finally relaxed, and I slept until the afternoon. Luckily, Mom and Dad are on vacation in Europe. No one woke me up for lunch. I rubbed my eyes and went downstairs to ask the maid for food. I saw Julian standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up, his gaze sweeping over me lightly. “Awake?” I remembered him saying “Baby, awake?” this morning. Followed by two hours of cardio. I stepped back instinctively. “Bro?” His eyes were dark. I feigned surprise. “Why are you home today?” He tapped the railing. “What do you think?” How should I know? I changed the subject. “Did you eat? I’m hungry. If not, I’ll tell the kitchen to make extra.” “You’re eating now?” he asked. I lied without blinking. “Yeah, realized I missed an assignment last night, stayed up all night finishing it. Slept all day.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Doing homework at home last night?” I nodded. “Yup!” “Okay.” Julian’s tone was unreadable. “Eat. My dear sister must be tired after working all night.”

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