I was a zookeeper specializing in Siberian tigers. While transporting three rejected cubs to a new sanctuary, a mudslide swept us off the mountain. I clawed my way out of the mud, digging the three cubs out with my bare hands. But when I looked up, I realized I hadn’t just survived a crash; I had traveled to a “Beast World.” Here, the Tiger Clan is the supreme race. Now, I’m living in a mansion with my cubs, fending off countless powerful beast-men who are desperate to become their stepdads. 1 I worked as a keeper for Siberian tigers. Recently, three cubs were born in the park, but the stronger adults bullied them relentlessly. I decided to transfer them to a satellite facility where they could be hand-reared in peace. I was driving the transport van myself. These little guys had been rejected by their mother at birth, so I’d bottle-fed them. They were practically my kids. The cubs were restless in the back, clawing at their crates. Even though they were small, their growls were already developing that deep, chest-rumbing bass. I glanced back at them. “Keep it down, guys. Mama’s going to get you somewhere safe soon. I’ll stay right there with you, okay?” As soon as the words left my mouth, the world shook. A roar louder than any tiger drowned out everything as a mudslide tore down the mountain, swallowing the van whole. I was out cold for I don’t know how long. When I woke up, I was gasping for air. I kicked open the van’s sunroof and scrambled out into the open air. Hearing the cubs wailing inside, I went into a frenzy, prying the crates open and dragging the three muddy, terrified furballs out. “It’s okay, don’t be scared,” I soothed them, wiping mud from their faces. “Mama’s got you. We’re going to be safe.” I grabbed the crates to haul them away from the wreck, but then I froze. Standing a short distance away was a crowd of people. But they weren’t just people. They were all over six-foot-four, ripped, and… furry. They had animal ears, tails, and claws. I didn’t think for a second this was a cosplay convention. My gut told me I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I instinctively shielded the cubs with my body. Even if I died, these endangered species had to survive. They were the jewels of our zoo. Suddenly, a man with bear ears roared, “Holy crap! Look at that! It’s an Apex Mother and her cubs! They must be in trouble—why else would they be in the Wastelands?” They started to approach. Terrified, I shouted, “Back off! What do you want? These are protected animals! You want to go to jail?” 2 “No, no! Tiger Mom, please!” the Bear-man stammered. “We just want to help. Apex Beasts are incredibly rare, especially a litter of three. We just want to take you to the Sanctuary. You’ll be safe there.” I didn’t trust these hybrid freaks, but I didn’t sense malice. Plus, I couldn’t sit on a mudslide with three tigers forever. After a tense standoff, I agreed to let them help carry the crates. Don’t ask why I didn’t carry them myself—even as cubs, these guys weighed forty pounds each. I’m five-foot-four on a good day; I wasn’t lifting that. We arrived at a place that looked like a high-end, post-apocalyptic fortress. It was a walled city, surprisingly luxurious inside. When we got to a secure room, they tried to open the crates. I threw myself in front of them. “No! What if they run off?” They frowned. “Even as their mother, you shouldn’t cage royalty.” I realized these people worshipped the cubs. They handled the crates like they held holy relics. But they were my cubs. “I can’t handle three loose tigers alone,” I insisted. “I’m protecting them.” Just then, a chubby man with yellow and white patches walked in. He looked human but had fluffy orange ears. “Don’t pressure the Tiger Mom,” he said softly. “She’s just a worried mother.” He bowed to me. “Greetings. I am Jasper, of the Cat Clan. Thank you for birthing such precious Apex cubs into this world. They will grow to be our mightiest warriors. But for now, I suggest you move into the Tiger Pavilion. We can offer better care there.” It felt absurd, but survival came first. “Will there be medical care for them? Food and water?” “Of course. Right this way.” Jasper was polite, and he seemed to be a tiger subspecies, so I signaled the porters to follow. The Tiger Pavilion was a massive estate with houses and courtyards, indistinguishable from human architecture, except for the twenty-foot walls. I was settled in and given food. The cubs were released and immediately fought over slabs of raw meat. I checked it—no additives, high quality. While they ate, I asked Jasper, “Are you a tiger too?” Jasper bowed. “I am an Orange Tabby, not of the royal bloodline. May I ask… which city’s King is your mate?” Me: ??? He meant the father. He thought I gave birth to these three. If I denied it, would they eat me? If I admitted it, where would I find a tiger husband? Panicking, I blurted out, “He’s dead.” I feigned deep sorrow. Jasper didn’t pry. Instead, his eyes lit up with excitement. I didn’t like that look, so I stepped back, shielding the cubs. He saw my guard go up and left, locking the gate behind him. 3 Great. We were prisoners. I spent some time worrying about whether I’d ever get home, then turned to the cubs. They were exploring the yard. “Careful, guys! Leo, don’t run off! We don’t know what’s in that grass!” Tigers are naturally naughty. Usually, I’d have to grab them by the scruff to get them to listen. But I was exhausted. I lay in the grass, watching them play. Suddenly, a voice drifted over the wall. “Dearest Tiger Mom. The Apex Kings of the North, the East, and the Great Plains have all arrived. They want to adopt the cubs. They swore to raise them as their own and provide resources. As for you… they want to make you their Queen and provide for you in your old age.” I was stunned. These beast-men weren’t ugly, but I was human. And asking a shifter to raise actual wild animals as sons? That was a recipe for disaster. “No thanks,” I shouted. “I can raise them myself. Tell them to leave.” “That… King of the Plains, please calm down! You can’t just barge in!” A massive tiger-man, bigger than Jasper, burst into the courtyard. He had the character for ‘King’ naturally marked on his forehead. He was handsome but terrifyingly fierce. “Tiger Mom! Give me the cubs! I will make them the strongest Kings!” I froze, adrenaline spiking. But then, my three cubs stopped playing. They stood in front of me, tiny bodies tense, roaring their high-pitched baby roars at the intruder. I rushed to shield them. To my shock, the giant tiger-man dropped to his knees with a loud thud. 4 The mountain of muscle was prostrating himself before me. The cubs, misinterpreting this as an attack stance, charged. They started biting his arms and legs. And let me tell you, tiger cub milk-teeth are sharp. They can puncture a tire. “No! Stop biting!” I grabbed one of the cubs. “Leo, let go!” I grabbed Leo by the scruff of his neck. Instantly, his legs went limp, his tail tucked, and he hung there motionless, looking confused. It’s the universal off-switch for cats. The tiger-man didn’t fight back. He just giggled. “Are you brain damaged?” I asked. “You’re bleeding.” He shook his head, grinning like an idiot. “My clan hasn’t seen cubs in a century. Look at them! So fierce! This is all your credit, Tiger Mom. Please, accept my worship.” He kowtowed. “Stop, stop! Get up!” I waved frantically. “Please, let me raise them. I especially want the little female you’re holding.” Oh, I see. He wasn’t after me. He was grooming my daughter. “You pervert! She’s an infant! Stay away from her!” The Wild Tiger scratched his head. “I just want to raise them! If you come to the Great Plains…” Two more tiger-men burst in, kneeling instantly and begging to adopt the cubs. I realized they genuinely wanted to help raise the “Royal Blood.” But I couldn’t trust them with my actual tigers. I had an idea. “I will let you raise them,” I announced. “But only via ‘Cloud Parenting.’ The cubs stay with me until they are adults.” “Cloud… Parenting?” Their fuzzy ears twitched in confusion. “Leo, Jax, Luna, sit!” I commanded. The cubs were smart. They sat in a row. One licked a paw, one scratched an ear, one loafed. Their tails swished against my legs. I cleared my throat. “Cloud Parenting means you send food, supplies, and gems here. I raise them. I will tell them who their ‘Godfather’ is. When they grow up, if they want to go with you, I won’t stop them.” The tiger-men looked at each other. Finally, one bowed. “I accept. But can we visit?” “Yes.” This place was safe enough, and I wasn’t about to be separated from my babies.

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A video of a 6’2” finance bro holding his 5’2” “work wife” while skiing in Aspen went viral on TikTok. At the time, I was still recovering from my C-section. My night nurse, Brenda, asked me, “Are you going to divorce him?” I shook my head. “He’s rich. I can’t bring myself to leave the money.” Then, I renewed her contract to keep taking care of my daughter, signed up for a luxury postpartum Pilates course, bought a $4,000 massage chair, got a facial, a fresh set of acrylics… and bought a condo in the building next door, paid in full, in my daughter’s name. Every cent came from my cheating husband, who was supposedly “on a business trip.” 1 A video of a tall, wealthy, handsome man carrying a petite woman down the slopes in Aspen blew up online. The comments section was going feral. “Where do I find a 6-foot-2 king to carry me like a backpack?” Someone replied, “That comes with the package. You have to bring your own.” My eyes were red and swollen as I scrolled through the comments. Most people were saying how envious they were of such a strong, romantic boyfriend. I gritted my teeth, tears streaming down my face, and commented under the video: “The man with the boyfriend energy is my husband.” “And right now, while I’m sitting at home recovering from childbirth, he’s carrying another woman down a mountain.” Within two hours, my comment was the top-rated one. Immediately after, I got a call from Jason. His voice was frantic. “Chloe, don’t overthink it. She’s just a colleague who came on the business trip.” “She said she didn’t know how to ski but wanted to experience it, so I just helped her out. That’s it!” “We really don’t have that kind of relationship, I swear!” I let out a cold laugh. “Right. You have no relationship. So why is she kissing your cheek in the video?” Jason’s explanation turned into word salad. “I… I don’t know! I was surprised too!” “She said she got carried away in the moment. Look… I can’t exactly go confront a young girl about something so small, can I?” “Besides, she’s the one who loses out in that situation, not me. If I make a big deal out of it, I look like a jerk who got a freebie and complained about it.” Okay, great. So, while I’m stuck at home with stitches and a newborn, he’s holding another woman, getting kissed, and apparently, he’s the one who scored a deal? What a bargain. His wife is suffering through postpartum recovery, and he’s living a romance novel. He must feel like he won the lottery. 2 I wanted to scream, but Brenda, our night nurse, walked over holding the baby. Lily was hungry. I had no choice but to hang up and feed her. I decided to shelf the issue until Jason got back from his “business trip.” Right now, my priority was healing. The trip, originally scheduled for two weeks, dragged on for a month. By the time Jason dragged his Rimowa suitcase through the door, I was physically recovered enough to walk around. As soon as he walked in, he saw Brenda busy in the kitchen and me in the living room with the baby. He didn’t rush over to see his daughter. Instead, he walked quickly to me and lowered his voice. “Why is Brenda still here? I thought we only hired her for the first four weeks?” I pushed him away. “Yeah, I extended her contract.” It was laughable. I birthed his child, I was suffering at home, and he was out playing playboy in the snow. And he had the nerve to police my spending? “Chloe, do you know how expensive a private night nurse is?” I nodded. “Six thousand a month. I’m aware.” He hissed through his teeth. “You know the price and you still kept her? Do you not know our financial situation?” Oh, I knew. Jason was a sales manager at a tech firm. His base and commission brought in anywhere from $400k to $700k a year. When we got married, our parents chipped in to buy our house in the suburbs, cash. No mortgage. We both had cars bought before the wedding. No debt. High income. And yet, Jason and I lived like we were on the poverty line. He always said, “Let’s spend less now so we can leave more for the kids later.” I was stupid back then. I believed his ghost stories. My quality of life tanked. I gave up my hobbies, my shopping, all to save pennies. But I was done saving. Money earned by a husband is meant to be spent by the wife. If he didn’t want me spending it, I was going to spend it twice as hard. 3 We were still arguing when Brenda walked out of the kitchen with dinner. Seeing Jason gripping my wrist, she gasped and wedged herself between us. She rubbed my wrist with her large, warm hands, then glared at Jason. “Mr. Miller, how could you use so much force? Look, you’ve left a red mark on Chloe!” Jason looked at my wrist, saw the redness, and reached out awkwardly to rub it, but Brenda swatted his hand away. Brenda had seen the viral video ages ago. She had tried to comfort me, saying maybe he lost a bet and it was a punishment. She told me, “New mothers can’t cry. You’ll ruin your eyesight.” She had told me horror stories about a past client who cried too much and needed glasses afterward. She scared my tears back into my tear ducts. But seeing Jason in the flesh, Brenda was clearly furious. She helped me to the table and handed me chopsticks. Jason sat next to me and started eating. Not five minutes later, his phone rang. He answered, listened, and frowned. He looked at me sheepishly. “Uh, Chloe. A colleague is in a bit of a jam. They need my help. Do you mind if I…” “Go, go! Hurry up! Leaving in the middle of dinner? Must be a life-or-death emergency!” Before I could speak, Brenda stood up and started shooing him away. “Chloe, I… it’s not like that. It’s just… my friend was driving back and her tire blew out.” “Well, that’s a puzzle,” I said. “When a tire blows out, you call AAA. Why is she calling you? Did you moonlight as a mechanic and forget to tell me?” Jason’s face darkened. “Brenda is right. Jason, when did you switch careers?” 4 Jason’s face went from red to green. He looked at us, then at his phone. Eventually, he sat back down and kept eating, furiously typing on his phone. Probably texting her that he couldn’t come. Two bites later, the phone rang again. I don’t know if it was accidental or intentional, but he put it on speaker. A weeping female voice filled the room. “Jason, when are you coming? There are so many cars whizzing by, I’m scared!” Before Jason could speak, I leaned toward the phone. “Jason isn’t a mechanic. If you have a flat, call a tow truck. If you don’t know how, I can teach you. Open Google Maps, search for…” “Chloe, that is enough!” Jason snapped. “Kenzie is fresh out of college. It’s normal to be scared when you get a flat on the highway. Do you have to be so sarcastic?” He glanced at Brenda playing with the baby, then sneered at me. “I’m just going to help a colleague. You two are acting like I’m committing a crime. Is it necessary?” He threw his chopsticks down, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out. As he left, he cooed into the phone, “Don’t be scared, I’m on my way. Stand behind the guardrail, don’t stand in traffic like an idiot.” The door slammed shut. My tears finally broke the dam. Brenda looked at the closed door, then at my wet face, and sighed heavily. “Whether you keep this man is up to you. But if it were my daughter, I’d tell her to kick him to the curb.”

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When I lost the baby, Ethan wept outside the delivery room. Even the nurses were touched, whispering enviably, “Your husband loves you so much. You’re lucky.” I looked at Ethan, who was carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it down for me. “Yeah, I am.” But later, I saw a field of red roses covering an entire hillside. And I saw him standing there, shouting, “I love you!” to the girl who killed our child. 01 Ethan had been incredibly busy lately. Busy meeting clients, busy with board meetings, busy with “networking.” He’d come home in the middle of the night, reeking of alcohol. “Chloe, I’m so tired.” He would kiss me on the forehead. “But when I think of you and the baby, it’s all worth it.” I would gently stroke my belly, looking at him with heartache as he passed out from exhaustion. This was our third year of marriage. Finally, we were having a child. Ethan and I met in college. Relying on his sharp business acumen and my unwavering backend support, we built our startup from a garage project into a thriving company. Two years ago, we actually conceived. But back then, the company was in a critical growth phase. We were running ourselves ragged, flying across the country every other day. “Let’s not keep it,” I had said, cupping Ethan’s face, my voice firm but shaking. “We can have children later. But this opportunity for the company… it’s once in a lifetime.” Ethan’s eyes had turned red. I knew how hungry he was for success. We had poured our blood and sweat into this business. I couldn’t let my personal desires destroy the hard work of so many employees. Even though I loved kids, for the sake of our future, I gave up that first pregnancy. Now, “Ethan & Co.” was stable. We were finally getting our wish—soon to be a family of three. Even though I was only four months along, Ethan had banned me from doing any work or chores since the day the stick turned pink. Buzz. My phone lit up on the nightstand. I quickly silenced it, terrified of waking Ethan. It was a picture message. I clicked it open. It was a photo, taken at a tilted, secretive angle. Across a candlelit table sat a man. The photographer was clearly a woman—her hand was visible in the corner, slender, with an intricate manicure and a distinctive crystal charm bracelet. But my eyes were glued to the man’s hand across from her. On his wrist was the diamond-encrusted Cartier watch I had given Ethan for his birthday just days ago. My heart started hammering against my ribs. I zoomed in. On the man’s index finger, there was a faint, white scar. It was Ethan. That scar was from our first year of marriage. I couldn’t mistake it. Back then, the company was just starting, and we needed every penny for capital. We lived in a cramped studio apartment on the outskirts of the city to save on rent. The building was ancient, and the wiring was shot. One night, the power cut out while Ethan was chopping vegetables. He sliced his finger open in the dark. I scrambled to find the first aid kit by the light of my phone screen, bandaging him up with trembling hands. We sat in the dark, eating cold sandwiches because the electric stove wouldn’t work. “Chloe,” his voice had been dry and raspy. “I’m sorry I’m making you suffer like this.” “One day, I promise, I’ll give you the happiest life imaginable.” I had leaned my head on his shoulder. “I know.” I believed in that future. And true to his word, we eventually got that life. Until that hand appeared in another woman’s photo. 02 When Ethan woke up the next morning, I had already made oatmeal. Watching him scroll through his phone with a faint smile, I asked, casually as I could, “Who was the dinner with last night?” Ethan glanced at me. “The General Manager of OmniCorp. You’ve met her.” I had met her. The GM of OmniCorp was indeed a young woman. I nodded and didn’t say anything else. Ethan put down his spoon. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I said softly. “Just try not to drink so much next time.” “I know. The Omni contract is still up in the air. I have to go meet her again today to finalize terms.” I cleared the table. “Okay. I have my prenatal checkup this afternoon. Are you free?” Ethan walked over, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and kissed my cheek. “Babe, this partnership is make-or-break. Can you drive yourself to the clinic this one time? I’ll go with you next month, I promise.” I looked up at him. “But the doctor said these first few months are crucial. I really wanted you there.” Ethan looked me in the eye. “Chloe, please. Be reasonable.” That phrase. It sounded so familiar. A few months ago, when we found out I was pregnant, he used that same tone. “Chloe, I want you to step back from the company for a while.” “The stress is too much. I’m worried about you.” I was surprised. I had weathered the stormiest days of our startup; I wasn’t fragile. “It’s fine, I can—” “Chloe,” he had looked at me with intense seriousness. “I don’t want anything to happen to our baby.” “Please. Be reasonable.” Seeing his determination, I had agreed. Just like today. He smiled, coaxed me into eating a few more bites, and left for the office. I got dressed and headed to the hospital. That drive would change my life forever. 03 I was waiting at a red light when the car behind me slammed into my bumper without braking. The impact was massive. Inertia threw me forward, and despite the seatbelt, my lower abdomen slammed hard against the steering wheel console. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through me. My vision blurred. The driver of the other car ran up and tapped on my window. I used every ounce of strength to pop the door open. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking at the light…” It was a young, pretty girl. Her sweet, apologetic smile vanished instantly, replaced by horror. “Oh my god… you’re bleeding…” she shrieked. I looked down. Blood was soaking the beige car seat. My baby! Panic, cold and sharp, woke me up. “Call 911! Now!” I screamed. “No, wait, the ambulance will take too long. Get in my car, I’ll drive you to the ER! It’s two blocks away!” The girl hesitated, looking terrified. “I… I’m scared to move you…” I roared at her, “Drive! My baby is dying!” Frightened by my hysteria, she helped me into her passenger seat. She was sobbing as she started the car, but instead of focusing, she called her boyfriend. “Babe, I accidentally hit a pregnant lady’s car… she’s bleeding a lot… I’m driving her to the hospital, what do I do? I’m so scared…” She listened to the voice on the other end, calming down slightly. I was frantically trying to call Ethan. Line busy. Again. Line busy. Pick up, Ethan! Our baby! I dialed the office line in desperation. “Put Ethan on the phone! It’s an emergency!” My assistant sounded confused. “One second… wait, he was just here. Where did he go? He literally just vanished.” “Find him and tell him to call me!” I yelled and hung up. We arrived at the ER. Nurses rushed me onto a gurney. The diagnosis came quickly: severe trauma caused a placental abruption. I had lost the baby. Lying on the hospital bed, moments before surgery to remove the tissue, I heard the girl whining to her boyfriend on the phone in the hallway. “Can you hurry up? I’m really scared. What if she tries to sue me for everything?” The anesthesia kicked in. A single tear rolled down my temple. I’m sorry, baby. 04 When I opened my eyes, Ethan was sitting by my bed, eyes rimmed with red. “Ethan…” My voice was a croak. He quickly poured me water. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I was in a meeting…” I paused for a long time before finding the strength to speak. “The baby… the baby is gone.” Ethan took a deep breath and forced a pained smile. “I know. Chloe, it was an accident. Nobody wanted this. Don’t worry, we can have another one.” “Where is she?” I suddenly remembered the driver. “The girl who rear-ended me.” Ethan stroked my hair. “I told her to go home. The police contacted me about the accident report. It’ll depend on their investigation. Having her here would just upset you, so I sent her away.” Tears began to fall again, soaking the pillow. “Why? She should pay for this!” Ethan was silent for a moment. “In these cases, it’s usually just financial compensation.” I closed my eyes. “I wish she could go to jail…” “Chloe, jail won’t bring the baby back. It’s pointless to fixate on punishment.” I opened my eyes, looking at him in disbelief. “Pointless? She killed my child! She just pays a fine and walks away? What about me? Can money fix this?” Ethan frowned. “That’s how the law works. Chloe, listen to me. We will have other children. That girl is in her early twenties. A criminal record would ruin her entire life.” He sighed. “I know you’re grieving. I’m hurting too. Just focus on getting better. Don’t think about the messy stuff.” I stared at Ethan, trying to find the man I married. He looked the same. But his words… they didn’t sound like him. Was I just overwhelmed with grief? Was I being unreasonable to want someone to pay for their mistake? Seeing my expression shift, Ethan gently took my hand. “Chloe, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

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At a dinner party, my genius painter husband was peeling crab for his young assistant with his hands—hands insured for millions. Just to coax her into eating something because she had “no appetite.” Meanwhile, I was drinking until I threw up blood, trying to secure investment for him. When I asked him to pass me some stomach medicine, he flatly refused: “My hands are for painting. Don’t you have hands of your own?” For ten years, he hadn’t even bothered to change his excuse for rejection. That night, sobering up in the cold wind, I asked my lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. Gavin, this life is long and the road is hard. From now on, we walk it separately. When Gavin was personally peeling crab for his assistant, Trixie, because she didn’t feel like eating, everyone at the table looked at me awkwardly. Just a minute ago, I had been swearing to the investors: “Gavin’s hands are insured for millions. To protect them, he doesn’t even pick up a steak knife.” To smooth things over, I punished myself by downing three shots of liquor. Blood welled up in my throat, but I forced it back down. Just as the tension was easing, Gavin decided to leave early to take Trixie to McDonald’s. He even got into an argument with an investor over it and ended up punching him. To apologize to the investor, I took a slap to the face and paid out compensation. Turning back, I just wanted to check if his hands were okay. But Gavin said coldly, “If you weren’t so obsessed with money, insisting on sucking up to these tacky tycoons, the poor girl wouldn’t be starving.” “I’m taking her to McDonald’s. Don’t follow us. You’ll ruin our appetite.” Trixie, the little assistant, apologized to me with pitiful eyes: “I’m so sorry, Wenny. If I knew Gavin cared about me this much, I would have kept my discomfort to myself.” Gavin rubbed her head disapprovingly. “Little one, what did you do wrong? You’re just innocent.” “She’s the one who’s too calculating. She’d rather drink until she pukes blood than leave.” My heart went cold. It wasn’t that he didn’t see me coughing up blood; he just didn’t care. I stood there in the freezing wind for half an hour before calling my lawyer. “Prepare a divorce agreement for me.” Gavin didn’t come back until the next morning. Scanning the table and seeing no lavish breakfast, and the coat rack missing his freshly ironed suit, he frowned slightly. “Late night?” I nodded. “Had a chat with a lawyer.” I pulled a document from my bag. “Two copies. Sign here.” Gavin didn’t even look at it. He flipped to the last page and signed. After all, in the ten years since his debut and our seven years of marriage, I had handled all his business and logistics. I let out a breath, put the agreement in my bag, and prepared to leave. Gavin blocked the door, his face dark as he grabbed my arm. “Don’t overthink it. After dinner last night, Trixie broke out in hives. I just took her to the hospital. We didn’t do anything.” This was the first time Gavin had explained anything to me since we got married. But he forgot—I used to get hives too. Back then, covered in a red rash, I begged him to take me to the hospital. He said: “Don’t you have legs? If I catch it, how am I supposed to paint?” Seeing my cold expression, Gavin wanted to say more, but Trixie called. “Sob… Gavin, I went to the studio today and everyone laughed at me. It’s so embarrassing, I feel terrible…” “You silly girl! Didn’t I tell you yesterday to rest if you’re sick?” Trixie sobbed, “But if I don’t go, the new exhibition won’t be ready in time. If I delay your career, I’d die of shame…” “Silly girl, how can getting sick be your fault?” Saying this, Gavin glanced back at me with disgust. “It’s all because of some greedy people who only care about money and ignore others’ lives.” “Be a good girl, wait in my office. I’ll drive you home.” Gavin slammed the door and left. From start to finish, he ignored the swelling on my face. I lowered my eyes and contacted the rising painter in Paris who had been inviting me for a long time. As I was reading through the agency contract on my phone, I received a voice message from Trixie on WeChat. In her baby voice, she said, “I’m so sorry, Wenny. Gavin insisted on coming to my place to take care of me. I’m the one delaying his exhibition progress. Please don’t blame him.” Her intentions were too obvious. Exhausted, I ignored the message but noticed her new profile picture. Zooming in, it was a pair of large hands, faintly stained with paint, tenderly cupping her face flushed red from hives. I knew those hands too well. They were Gavin’s. He really did care about her. I closed the image and quietly changed my profile picture from our wedding photo to a bird flying free. On the last day of the city art exhibition, I stayed backstage handling logistics. When I went out front for the group photo, I saw Gavin already standing center stage with his arm around Trixie. Reporters were gushing: “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling have such a great relationship. Seven years of marriage and still so inseparable.” “Mrs. Sterling looks so young! I heard she manages the studio and planned this entire exhibition single-handedly. Beauty and brains!” Gavin and Trixie heard the praise, but neither spoke up to correct them. Until Trixie saw me. Suddenly, her eyes welled up with tears, and she dropped to her knees in front of me. “Wenny, I didn’t mean to! I just haven’t had a chance to explain! Gavin is where he is today because of you. I wouldn’t dare steal your credit.” The sudden move made the atmosphere weird. The only sound was the clicking of camera shutters. Gavin immediately shielded Trixie. “Wenny, do you have to be so aggressive?” “Trixie contributed a lot to this exhibition. I’m just giving a newcomer some exposure. It’s normal mentorship.” He lowered his voice. “We’re in public. Don’t make a scene.” I wasn’t making a scene. And I never would again. I put on a polite smile, helped Trixie up, and introduced her to the media. The farce ended with a glossed-over peace. After the interviews, I took out my phone to book a flight. Gavin snatched it from my hand. “You’re booking tickets? International? Why didn’t I know about this?” He fired off three questions, brows furrowed in shock. “Since when do I have an exhibition in Paris? Why didn’t you tell me?” Honestly, I didn’t expect Gavin, who usually kept his hands off everything, to react like this. Maybe my recent change in behavior had finally caught his attention. A flash of panic crossed his eyes. He grabbed my hand. “What exactly are you planning?” Before I could tell the truth, a scream came from backstage. Gavin threw my phone aside and sprinted away. I silently picked up my phone, pressed the “Pay” button for the ticket, and then walked backstage. Broken frames littered the floor. Trixie was lying there, her wrist bleeding from wood splinters. “Boo hoo, Gavin, my hand is hurt. What if I can’t paint anymore?” “Wenny asked me to organize this. I really didn’t expect the frames to fall. I was so careful. Did I do something wrong?” Gavin cradled Trixie’s hand delicately, his eyes red. The next second, he turned and roared at me: “Wenny, are you done acting out?” “Trixie is my assistant. She only handles my personal items. Why did you make her do heavy lifting? What is wrong with you?” “I tolerated your behavior at those drinking parties all these years, but have you sunk so low as to frame someone?” Ignoring the suspicious looks around us, I explained calmly: “I didn’t ask her to come here. I was out front the whole time…” Gavin cut me off, patience gone. “Of course you didn’t have to come personally. You run the studio; you can tell anyone to do your dirty work!” “Apologize to Trixie right now, or I’m calling the police!” I forced a self-deprecating smile. Just as I was about to agree to call the cops and check the security footage, Trixie hugged Gavin, begging him not to call. Whatever she said, Gavin agreed to. He gritted his teeth. “Trixie won’t let me call the police. Fine. But I won’t let you off the hook!” With that, he grabbed a painting from the corner and smashed it at my feet. The solid wood frame nearly shattered my shin bone. Sharp edges sliced my skin. Blood gushed out. “This is payback for Trixie! Everyone listen up: from now on, studio business has nothing to do with Wenny! Anyone who listens to her is fired!” “Wenny, don’t come back until you’ve reflected on yourself and apologized to Trixie!” Gavin scooped Trixie up in his arms, shoved past me, and left without looking back. I stood there, tears falling despite my best efforts. They mixed with the blood, dripping onto the ruined canvas at my feet. It was the painting Gavin spent three months on to propose to me. It used to be his most treasured work. Thirty thousand repetitions of my name, forming the future we once promised each other—watching the sunset in Paris. But now, he had shelved that passionate love and personally shattered that promise. I took the canvas out of the frame, tore it 48 times, and threw the shreds into the trash. Gavin was right. His studio had nothing to do with me anymore. I was never his official agent, just managing his career as his wife. But soon, I wouldn’t be that either. The next day, I went to the office to pack my things. I overheard the studio manager trying to reason with Gavin. “Mr. Sterling, you were too impulsive yesterday. Mrs. Sterling has been running everything all these years. If she really quits out of anger, the upcoming exhibition will be chaos.” Gavin snorted. “She was just riding my coattails. The exhibition’s success is due to my talent.” “If she doesn’t come, let Trixie handle her work. It’s just busywork. Anyone can do it!” Then, remembering something, he added: “Trixie is different from her. The little one doesn’t like sucking up to people. Don’t make her go to dinner parties.” I had planned to hand over my work to the manager, but now it seemed unnecessary. Just then, a WeChat notification popped up.

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On the day Julian Sterling won the Global Philanthropist Award, I was given a death sentence by my doctors because I couldn’t afford a replacement for my artificial heart. The host on TV asked Julian to call the person he regretted losing the most. Without hesitation, he dialed my number. I picked up, listening as Julian asked, “Do you regret leaving me for money back then?” I glanced at the exorbitant bill for the heart replacement surgery and chuckled softly. “Julian, since you’re so rich now, lend me twenty grand, will you?” The line went dead instantly. I watched the TV as Julian coldly stated, “I guess I don’t have any regrets anymore.” He didn’t know that when his heart was failing years ago, I secretly gave him mine. As soon as the live broadcast ended, I received a transfer of twenty thousand dollars from Julian. I stared at the notification, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest. I used the money to pay the overdue medical bills. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice outside my hospital room. Looking through the crack in the door, I saw Julian. Seven years hadn’t left a mark on him. He looked sharper, more distinguished. The only thing that had changed was the person by his side. It wasn’t me anymore. The awards gala had just ended. He hadn’t even changed out of his tuxedo, rushing to the hospital because his new girlfriend had a stomach ache. I watched him tenderly hold Claire in his arms, a look of pure adoration on his face. I lowered my head, intending to close the door quietly and pretend I hadn’t seen anything. But Julian yanked the door open. I jumped, looking up to meet his gaze. His eyes swept over me, cold and piercing. “Long time no see. Not even going to say hello?” I looked at him, opening my mouth to speak. A thousand words rushed to my lips, but what came out was: “Julian, lend me another thirty grand.” Julian froze, the cold indifference in his eyes igniting into anger. He grabbed my wrist. “Seven years, and that’s all you have to say to me?” The needle marks on my wrist stung under his grip. I took a deep breath and whispered, “Mr. Sterling is so wealthy. If you don’t lend me money, I’m afraid Miss Claire might misunderstand our relationship.” Julian looked taken aback, a flicker of complexity crossing his eyes. Before he could speak, Claire latched onto his arm. “Honey, is this your ex-wife?” Claire looked at me, her tone dripping with feigned pity. “What can thirty grand even do? Julian spent fifty grand on a pair of shoes for me!” “It’s a pity Ms. Lee didn’t know what she had. If you hadn’t heartlessly abandoned Julian, I never would have met him.” I stayed silent, my mind drifting back to the past. I met Julian in college. We fell in love and spent five years together. Back then, he wasn’t a billionaire entrepreneur. And my health wasn’t failing like it is now. We were two broke students, orphans who found family in each other. We worked hard to build a tiny life of our own. Just as our careers were taking off, Julian was diagnosed with severe heart failure. The treatments and the transplant list required a fortune. We burned through every cent we had saved for our startup. To pay for his meds, I worked multiple jobs, eating one meal a day, splitting every dollar. I worked myself to the bone just to afford the cheapest generic drugs. But a suitable heart never came. I watched Julian wither away day by day, sinking into despair. Just when hope was all but lost, the doctor found me. He told me there was a match. The person whose heart matched Julian’s was me. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Julian kissed Claire’s forehead, his eyes full of tenderness. “If she hadn’t been so heartless, how would I have met an angel like you?” “That thirty-thousand-dollar bag you liked? I’ll buy it for you. Pick the expensive one next time. Your husband can afford it.” Watching them, the phantom pain in my wrist seemed to pierce straight into my heart. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. I pulled my hand free from Julian’s grip. I didn’t want to be the prop in their love story anymore. As I turned to leave, Claire “accidentally” stuck out her foot. “Oh no, Ms. Lee! Why are you so clumsy?” I fell to my knees, my medical records scattering at Julian’s feet. Seeing me fall, Julian’s expression tightened. He instinctively reached out to help. Claire grabbed his hand and gasped, “What’s this?” Julian’s gaze fell on the papers. He picked one up and scanned it. “Artificial Heart Replacement…” A flash of anger crossed his face. He threw the report in my face. “Lily, I didn’t think you’d stoop to fraud for money!” “You really haven’t changed. Seven years later, and it’s still all about the money!” I stood up, looking at Julian’s healthy, robust body. A faint smile touched my lips as I silently gathered my papers. “Since you know I love money, Mr. Sterling, why not lend me a little more?” Claire, overcome with emotion, wept and clung to his arm. But the look she gave me was full of mockery and malice. “Honey, maybe it’s true?” “Besides… if Ms. Lee hadn’t left, you wouldn’t have received that donor heart from a good Samaritan!” “Let’s help her, okay?” Her words seemed to remind Julian of the “fact” that I had abandoned him for money. The hesitation in his eyes froze over instantly. “A heartless woman doesn’t deserve the charity of strangers. She’s not worth it.” Julian turned away with Claire, who was still pretending to plead for me. But as she glanced back, the curve of her lips was pure venom. I picked up the medical report, now marred by Claire’s footprint. My mechanical heart gave a tremor that didn’t belong to it. My vision blurred as I watched them walk away. After a long time, I wiped a trace of blood from the corner of my mouth and looked at the words “Artificial Heart Replacement.” My fingers traced the seven-year-old scar on my chest. Julian still didn’t know. The heart beating in his chest was mine. Seven years ago, with no donor heart in sight, Julian was dying. Artificial heart technology wasn’t mature then. It could sustain life in theory, but the risks were massive. When I found out I was a match, I gave him my heart. I took the artificial one—a cheap model with a seven-year lifespan—to save money. Since then, my chest would often ache. Coughing up blood and sudden weakness became my new normal. And because I was broke, the surgery to upgrade the unit kept getting delayed. Now, seven years were up. The machine in my chest sent its seventh warning tremor. I knew it was reaching its limit. I left the hospital and went back to my rental. It was small, damp, and freezing in the winter. In the summer, it was an oven. But it was cheap. Julian and I used to live here. This was where we dreamed of our future. After I found out I was a match, I pretended to be a gold digger. I slapped a divorce agreement on the table. We had been together for five years. I had never complained, never left his side.

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In a room full of society’s elite, my fiancé snatched the bouquet right out of my hands. He dropped to one knee and proposed to my sister instead. She said yes, tears streaming down her face. The bride was swapped at the altar, and I became the punchline of every joke in the Hamptons. That’s when Julian Thorne, the heir to the Thorne dynasty, stepped forward with a marriage contract and a very public proposal. After we married, Julian spoiled me rotten. Against my better judgment, I gave him my heart. Then came my birthday party. I pretended to be drunk, slumped in Julian’s arms, listening to his friends debate how much a man could truly love a woman. I heard him say: “I married the woman my true love hates most, just to clear the path for her.” 1 Every word struck me like thunder. I was nestled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat while he confessed his undying love for my sister. My blood turned to ice. The private room went silent for a heartbeat before erupting into cheers. “Classic Julian! Enduring a loveless marriage just to protect his white moonlight.” “You’re a real romantic, man. Loving Bianca silently for years, even sacrificing your own happiness.” Julian’s voice was low, gentle, and terrifying. “As long as Bianca is happy, I’ll do anything.” His friend chuckled. “I heard Bianca and Sam are getting divorced. Does that mean you’ll get your second chance soon? When do you plan to tell the wifey?” Julian paused. “Bella is dependent on me. I’ll handle it later.” “Don’t mention this in front of her. I don’t want a scene.” Everyone agreed instantly. No one dared cross Julian Thorne. Someone, emboldened by liquid courage, teased: “But hey, it’s not a total loss. Sleeping with a movie star must have its perks.” Julian let out a soft laugh, his fingers absentmindedly playing with my earlobe. “It has its moments.” I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, forcing back tears. I thought Julian was my savior, pulling me from the abyss. Turns out, he was the one cutting the rope. Seven years of marriage, reduced to a cruel joke. Sam, Julian… they all loved Bianca. No one loved me. 2 After the party, Julian carried me to the car himself. “Drive smoothly,” he whispered to the chauffeur. “My wife is sleeping.” He was still so attentive, nuzzling my neck even as I feigned sleep. Lying in his arms, memories flashed like a movie reel. Years ago, Sam—my childhood sweetheart—left me at the altar. Overnight, I became the laughingstock of New York high society. Julian appeared with a contract. He said he’d just inherited the family empire and needed a stable, suitable marriage to secure his position. Disillusioned with love, I agreed to the arrangement without hesitation. He gave me the wedding of the century. Fireworks lit up the Hudson River all night long. I had sworn off love, but his seven years of unwavering devotion melted my defenses. I let him in. I thought I was drowning in honey. It turned out to be arsenic. “Honey…” I murmured, pretending to wake up, eyes unfocused. Julian immediately adjusted me to a more comfortable position against his shoulder. “Babe, does your head hurt? I’ll make you some hangover soup when we get home.” I clung to his arm. “I was just happy today.” My voice was sweet, practiced. Acting is my job. If he, an amateur, could keep up a charade for seven years, imagine what an Oscar-winning actress could do. Julian kissed my temple. “I have a new project starting soon, so I might not be able to visit the set often. Take care of yourself.” “I’ll order food for the crew and make sure your assistant watches you eat… If you don’t behave… I’ll have to punish you.” His hand drifted to my waist, squeezing suggestively. I fought the urge to vomit and twisted away. “Stop, that tickles…” 3 That night, I tossed and turned. I thought about the safe hidden in the corner of Julian’s study. The one I’d never opened. This time, it took me one second. Because I finally realized the combination was Bianca’s birthday. It wasn’t filled with love letters or trinkets from Bianca, as I’d feared. Just a corporate seal. But the company name on the stamp hit me like a lightning bolt. It was a company I had no connection to, yet knew intimately. Because every movie, every endorsement deal Bianca had landed over the years was heavily invested in by this company. I had always wondered. Bianca’s acting was mediocre at best, yet her resources were better than mine—the wife of a billionaire. The mystery was solved. It was Julian. He had been her silent guardian angel all along. Once, a famous director offered me the lead in his new film. The script was perfect. I cleared my schedule for six months, hit the gym, and transformed my body for the role. I told Julian how much it meant to me. He said, “Babe, why work so hard? Isn’t it enough to just be Mrs. Thorne?” Before filming began, the director paid the penalty fee and replaced me with Bianca. This mysterious company had tripled the investment to buy the role for her. I put the seal back and closed the safe. In the darkness, tears finally fell. My phone buzzed. The screen lit up the room, harsh and bright. “Ms. Bella, have you made your decision?” “Yes.” It was time to exit this three-person game. 4 The next morning, the studio van came to pick me up. Julian walked me to the car, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Babe, rest up. Don’t overwork yourself.” I reported my schedule. “Big explosion scene today.” Julian paused. “I thought that was next week?” “Schedule change. Saves resetting the scene later.” He hugged me again, completely missing the test. “Be safe. Double-check the safety gear.” My heart plummeted. In the past, whenever I had a dangerous scene—explosions, car crashes, wire work—Julian would clear his schedule. He’d be on set, checking everything himself. But now… News of Bianca’s divorce had just broken. He couldn’t even be bothered to fake it anymore. Fine. I’ll give these star-crossed lovers their happy ending. During a break, I saw Julian’s custom Rolls Royce parked near the studio lot next door. Bianca was filming there. An impulse to see him one last time drove me toward the car. Only the driver and his assistant were inside. They scrambled out when they saw me. “Mrs. Thorne… Mr. Thorne went to the restroom…” Their eyes kept darting toward Bianca’s trailer. I understood. I walked over and knocked on the trailer door. Julian opened it. Behind him, Bianca sat on the sofa, hair mussed, buttons misaligned. Julian panicked for a split second, then smoothed his expression. “Bella. I came to see you and ran into Bianca. We were just discussing some business.” I forced a smile. “Really? What business do you have with my sister? You never mentioned it.” “Boring stuff. You wouldn’t be interested,” he said gently, dismissively. Before I could speak, his assistant ran up with a phone. “Mr. Thorne, overseas call. Important.” Julian patted my head. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.” He walked away. Bianca uncrossed her legs and sauntered over, smugness radiating off her. “Curious what we were talking about, Bella? My dear sister.” “His company is about to announce me as their global brand ambassador.” “Soon, the whole world will know that Mr. Julian Thorne chose his wife’s rival to represent him.” “Does that count as rubbing your face in the dirt?” “Just wait, Bella. I’m going to take everything that belongs to you, piece by piece.” She laughed, bright and provocative, brushing her hair aside to reveal a fresh hickey on her neck. Bianca and I share a father, but different mothers. She was the secret child, brought home only after my mother died. I tried to be a sister to her. She only ever hated me. “I hate you, Bella. You and your mom stole my dad. Stole everything that should have been mine!” “Bianca, my mom didn’t know he had a pregnant girlfriend when they arranged the marriage… She was a victim too!” “Shut up! If not for her, my dad would have married my mom! Remember this: you are not my sister!” My father always felt guilty about Bianca. He made me yield to her. Even when she stole Sam at my wedding, he just scolded her and swapped the brides. I spiraled into depression. It was Julian who pulled me out, brick by brick, with his love. Bianca stole my roles. Julian would say, “Treat acting as a hobby. I want you home with me anyway.” I thought it was sweet. Now I realized, my rival wasn’t just Bianca. It was my husband, sleeping beside me every night with a heart full of secrets. “Oh, right. Julian came to drop off a script. He’s investing in a new movie for me. Top director, A-list team. Starting soon.” She handed me the script from the table. The cover read: Redemption in the Clouds. I flipped a few pages, and my hands began to shake. On my computer at home, there was a script I had spent seven years polishing. It was based on my story with Julian. A chronicle of our marriage, from strangers to lovers. And now, Julian had gifted it to Bianca. I opened my mouth to scream, but Bianca smiled—a twisted, knowing smile. Then she slapped herself across the face, hard. Twice. Messed up her hair and screamed. “Ahhhh!” “Bella, what are you doing?!” Julian, who had been stepping onto the trailer stairs, rushed in. He didn’t even look at me. He shoved me aside and went straight to Bianca. “Bianca, are you okay?” Bianca covered her face, eyes brimming with tears. A perfect victim. “Julian, I don’t know… I just invited her for tea, and she attacked me… called me a slut…” Julian looked at me. His gaze was cold, ruthless. A stranger. “Bella, I know you don’t like Bianca, but how could you hit her? Look at her face! How is she supposed to film?” “There are paparazzi outside. If they get a picture, how are we going to clean this up?” I stared at Julian. My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. I didn’t deny it. I didn’t explain. I just asked: “Why did you give my script to Bianca?” Julian’s eyes were icy. “What script? I told you not to be so ambitious. It’s just a script. Does it matter who acts in it? We agreed you’d retire and focus on the family.” I looked away, digging my nails into my palms until they bled. Exhausted. Disappointed. Focus on the family? Never again. Seeming to realize my detachment, Julian softened his tone. “Bella, I’m sorry I raised my voice. I was just worried the press would spin this and hurt you.” “Everyone knows you’re sisters. You’re my wife. I don’t want people badmouthing you.” He rubbed my head. “Go do your scene. I’ll come have lunch with you. Be good.” I nodded. Turned around, and let a cold sneer settle on my face. It must be exhausting for Julian, juggling two women like this.

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I used to be a giant panda, the absolute top star of the breeding center. My daily routine was simple: eat, sleep, pose for the cameras, and wait for the aunties to line up just to see me. Then I woke up in the body of a D-list celebrity, only to accidentally charm the entire entertainment industry with my natural clumsiness. Even after skyrocketing to fame, I still preferred cornbread and apple slices. Liam Stone, the A-list heartthrob, couldn’t stand it anymore. “Lily, can’t you eat something better?” Hearing “something better,” my eyes lit up. I blinked excitedly. “Better? Like what?” Liam’s face turned red, and he pointed at himself. Me: “But you don’t look tasty.” Liam: “…” 1 “Oh my god, thank heavens! You’re finally awake!” The moment I opened my eyes, I saw a two-legged creature crying over me. Suicide? I ate well, slept well—why would I commit suicide? It took me a good long while to realize I had transmigrated into the body of an entertainment industry celebrity. A very unpopular, D-list celebrity. “Okay, okay, you’re awake, that’s what matters. Look, we might be unpopular, but it’s not worth dying over.” I nodded. “So hungry. Got any cornbread?” Two-legged creature: “Huh?” My name is Joy. I was a giant panda, the biggest star at the research base. My life was eat, sleep, work the crowd, repeat. I heard the ladies loved me. They’d get up before dawn and wait in huge lines just to watch me zone out. But things were different now. The current me had no gigs, and everyone hated me. I was gnawing on an apple when my agent, Cece, rushed in, grabbing my arm. “Good news! You finally got a show!” She shook me so hard my apple almost flew out of my hands. I quickly shielded it, hugging it to my chest. Cece’s mouth twitched. “Lily, didn’t you use to hate apples?” I gave her a wink, scratched my ear, and giggled. “Anyway, this is a rare opportunity. Do not say anything crazy on the show, okay?” “Okay.” “You’re being so obedient? Also… the show invited Tyler and… Chloe…” Cece said the names carefully. “Okay.” Cece grabbed my shoulders, inspecting me left and right. “Did the sleeping pills damage your brain?” We pandas aren’t dumb. Last night, this Tyler guy sent me a message. “Lily, I’m with Chloe now. We are completely over. Please stop harassing Chloe online. Let’s delete each other.” I was just figuring out how to use a human phone. Seeing “delete,” I happily typed “Okay.” And hit delete. “Tyler, right? Deleted.” Cece looked shocked. “Wow, Lily, you finally grew a spine.” I winked at Cece again. 2 As a panda, I slept whenever and wherever I wanted. But as a celebrity, even without much work, my sleep time was drastically cut. And no more napping on the floor. Early the next morning, while I was still dream-fighting other cubs, Cece dragged me out of bed to travel. I was so sleepy. So I fell asleep on the road. “Lily, wake up! Stop sleeping!” Cece shook me awake. I was bleary-eyed. “What’s wrong?” “I’m worried about you. Let me remind you again, this show is live-streamed 24/7. Watch your words and actions.” “And you’ve been sleeping so much lately. You can’t just sleep there and not work.” “Okay,” I yawned, answering seriously. Cece looked worried seeing me so dazed. She told me this variety show was hard to get. It had run for seven seasons, and almost every celebrity willing to do reality TV had been on it. This was the final season. Because it was live, some stars refused, afraid of getting canceled for a slip-up. Also, the guest list wasn’t announced beforehand, so the live comments might be intense. Psh, live stream? Big deal. Back at the base, ladies watched me all day. Many recorded videos. The more people watching, the more excited I got. Sure enough, before the car even stopped, I heard people screaming by the road. “Liam Stone! I love you!” “Chloe! Chloe!” Our van was high off the ground, and the original owner of this body was petite. I thought about it. No more paw pads to cushion a fall. If I tripped, it would hurt. So I decided to jump down with both feet for stability. Just as I poked my head out, I heard the whispers. “Omg, isn’t that Lily? The D-lister who fought with netizens for three days straight? Why did they invite her?” “Yeah, that’s her. She called me a three-day-old dead fish.” “I heard she tried to force a ship with Tyler after just one drama and stole someone’s boyfriend. So shameless.” Okay, great. Starting with the insults. I hopped down with both feet, feeling the strange looks from the crowd. “Wow, look at her. Even getting out of a car, she’s so dramatic and fake.” I looked at the big bag of freeze-dried apple slices in my arms. I walked up to the loudest hater, pulled out a slice, and asked, “Want one? It’s really good.” Totally ignored me. Their gaze shifted to a black van pulling up slowly. The car stopped, and a tall, thin man in a black cap got out. “Ahhh! Liam Stone!” “Liam is so handsome! Mama loves you!” Weird. Can they tell he’s handsome even with the hat? But I used to hear “Mama loves you” all the time at the base too. Big deal. I have lots of moms who love me too. Same entrance, totally different treatment for me and Liam. Liam walked toward me and politely extended his hand. “Hello, I’m actor Liam Stone.” So polite. I looked down at myself, quickly wiped my apple-dusty hand on my clothes. Then I shook his hand. “Hello, I’m Lily.” Liam looked shocked, the corner of his mouth twitching. 3 “This Lily is such a weirdo. Shaking our Liam’s hand with those dirty paws.” “Right? The audacity. That’s Best Actor Liam Stone.” “But it’s weird, can’t she hear us insulting her? Usually, she’d be calling us toads by now.” While Liam hesitated, two more vans arrived. Judging by the cheers, Tyler and Chloe had arrived. They got out separately but naturally walked together, flashing their signature smiles and waving to fans. “Wow, Chloe and Tyler are such a match. Our Chloe is beautiful.” “Yeah, that homewrecker Lily can’t compare to Chloe.” The scene was chaotic. I stood silently by my luggage, munching on freeze-dried apples. After their greetings, Chloe’s gaze turned to me, standing quietly on the side. “Long time no see,” she said with a fake smile. Her makeup was perfect, her outfit hot. In fifty-degree weather, she was wearing a low-cut mini dress. I looked down at myself. Black and white hoodie, jeans. I looked like a random passerby. I asked Chloe with genuine concern, “Hi there. Aren’t you cold?” “I’m not cold, thanks for asking.” She paused, glanced at the crowd, and answered politely. I thought, this Chloe seems polite enough. Why did Cece describe her like she murdered my whole family? The show I was on was called “Our Simple Life,” a slow-living reality show. The director said the house was about a mile away, and cars couldn’t go in. We had to walk. Chloe looked troubled, clearly unwilling. Tyler, who had been stuck to her side since arrival, spoke up. “Coco, let me carry it for you.” Chloe looked at me smugly and handed her suitcase to Tyler. I reached into my bag of apple chips and crunched loudly. The three of them looked at me like I was an alien. It made me a little shy. “Eat up, need energy, hehe.” Chloe and Tyler looked annoyed. Only Liam stared at me curiously. Did he want my apple chips? My slow brain processed this. I had six or seven bags in my suitcase. I guess I should share later. 4 I dragged my suitcase the whole way. Liam offered to help several times, but I refused. “Your suitcase is heavy. Did you bring a lot of clothes?” Liam asked seriously. He didn’t talk much, but he was polite to me. “No, just a few clothes. It’s mostly snacks,” I answered slowly. Liam looked shocked. “You don’t diet?” I looked down at myself. I could see my feet. Not fat. Why diet? “Nope. I eat six meals a day, sometimes snacks too. If I’m not full, I can’t sleep.” I explained seriously to Liam. Shock flashed in his eyes. The live stream exploded. “So this Lily is a foodie? Kinda cute contrast.” “She must be faking a foodie persona to clean up her image. What celebrity eats six meals?” The show’s two resident hosts were Host Zhou and Host Xue. They were waiting at the gate with two Shiba Inus running circles happily. “Welcome, everyone! Tough journey!” Host Zhou greeted us warmly, and Host Xue took our luggage. Since Chloe and I were the only girls, we had to share a room. Chloe looked displeased. So I spoke up, “If you don’t want to sleep with me, I can sleep anywhere. That swing outside looks comfy.” Chloe’s face turned red. “Stop talking nonsense.” Host Zhou jumped in to smooth things over. “Lily can’t sleep on the swing! Sleep inside, too many bugs out there.” “Oh right, this show is live-streamed, and the guests can hear the live comments through these devices.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. No wonder I thought I heard someone say I was faking a persona. On the way, Cece told me if I didn’t understand anything, ask the teachers. “Host Zhou, what is ‘faking a persona’?” Host Zhou looked at me and wiped more sweat. “Lily, let’s go check out the living room.” He pulled me away. I glanced back at Chloe, who looked at me with disdain. The device on my waist buzzed with a comment: “This Lily is definitely faking a ‘dumb beauty’ persona.”

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Three months after I divorced my ex-husband, I received a wedding invitation from him. Overnight, I became the laughingstock of our entire social circle. They called me “used goods” that Liam had grown tired of, a manipulative woman who had taken advantage of him when he was down. But without me back then, there wouldn’t be the powerful CEO Liam Sterling today. I had completely given up on Liam. Just as I agreed to my father’s arrangement for a political marriage, Liam knelt before me. “Maddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to love before. Can you give me another chance?” 1. While other couples were spending Valentine’s Day surrounded by roses and romance, I received a divorce settlement and a final decree. When I signed that prenuptial agreement with Liam Sterling three years ago, I knew this day would come. Now it’s all over, and I should let go. Three years ago, the Sterling family business was in crisis. Everyone avoided them like the plague. Liam’s father, the chairman, had a stroke and was hospitalized. The entire burden fell on Liam alone. He was in his early twenties, barely out of college. He begged everyone he could, but no one extended a hand. He was too young. No one trusted a kid to clean up such a mess. The only one who offered an olive branch was my father, head of the Harrington Group. I begged my dad all night. Finally, he nodded, looking at me gravely. “Don’t regret this, Madison.” How could I regret it? I had loved Liam for seven years. I had never seen him so humbled, so desperate. He was always aloof, the kind of person who stood out in any crowd. But now, he couldn’t even get a foot in the door. Hearing about his desperate situation made my heart ache. I found him at a bus stop in the pouring rain. He looked at me, panicked and ashamed. I held an umbrella over his head and pulled out the agreement. Three years of marriage in exchange for saving his father’s life’s work. Liam agreed. But I knew, if he had a second choice, he would never have chosen me. 2. After the marriage, with the backing of the Harrington family, the Sterling stock stopped plummeting, and the board of directors calmed down. Liam was busy every day, cramming to learn things he’d never touched before. He often worked until dawn. Sometimes he just slept at the office. Occasionally, seeing the light from his study late at night, I couldn’t bear it and would make him tea. But when I brought it in, his frown and look of annoyance stung me. Liam hated me. Although he tried his best to hide it, his true feelings occasionally leaked out, impossible to conceal. “I just… saw you were working late,” I said, feeling small. In front of him, I could never seem to hold my head up. “Thanks. Go to bed. Don’t worry about me.” Then he added, “Don’t come in here unless it’s urgent.” Polite, distant, cold. I fled, terrified he would say something worse. It looked like he was relying on me to keep the company afloat, but in reality, I was the one terrified he would leave. I was duckweed, rootless, drifting with the current. Liam was different. He was a tree, desperately absorbing water to grow. In just three years, Sterling Corp was back to its former glory, even better. And I, the vine that tried to bind him, was about to be torn away. There was no reason for me to stay. For three years, we lived like roommates. Liam never touched me. At first, I comforted myself saying he was too busy. But then one night, he came back from a business dinner, drunk. He hugged me, kissed me, touched me. I pushed him gently, whispering his name: “Liam.” His eyes suddenly cleared. He pushed me away, locked himself in the bathroom, and then went straight to the guest room. After he left, I went into the bathroom to pick up his clothes and felt the lingering chill. Liam hated me so much he took a cold shower to kill his desire. 3. The first time I saw Liam was at the start of high school. After the orientation, we had military training camp. Our class shared an instructor with Liam’s class. Liam was the center of attention from day one. Handsome, wealthy. Photos of him in camo were all over the school forum. Bold girls confessed to him, but Liam always rejected them with a cold, serious face. That was my first impression of him: aloof and unapproachable. Later, during a field exercise, Liam and I were on the same squad. It was a huge game of capture the flag in the woods. As time went on, our teammates were eliminated one by one. I followed Liam, picking up “ammo” and supplies for him. While moving to a new position, I stepped in a hole and twisted my ankle badly. I cried out and fell. Liam looked back, squatted down, and touched my ankle. “Does it hurt here?” I nodded, gasping in pain. But I told him: “Leave me. Go on. I’ll surrender in a minute. Take the ammo.” Liam didn’t speak. He looked toward the camp. He shook his head. “No. It’s too far. Waiting for the medics will take too long.” “I can hop…” Before I could finish, I saw Liam bend down on one knee, his back to me. I froze. Liam waved his hand. “Get on. I’ll carry you.” I climbed onto his back. Liam looked at the smoke grenade in my hand. “Know how to use it?” I nodded. “Pull it.” With a hiss, we were engulfed in red smoke. Eliminated. Liam walked steadily. I asked him: “Did we surrender to make the game fair? Or so people wouldn’t think we were cheating by walking back?” Liam seemed amused by my logic. He chuckled softly. “No. You’re hurt and you’re still thinking about the game?” “Then why?” “I was afraid someone might shoot you by mistake and cause a secondary injury,” he said calmly. My heart skipped a beat. From that moment on, I was drowning in the ocean named Liam Sterling. 4. On Valentine’s Day, the courthouse was full of couples getting married, smiling with love in their eyes. Fighting back tears, I asked Liam why he chose today. He hesitated, looking confused. “What’s wrong with today? I happened to be free.” “Nothing. It’s great. You’re free starting today.” I forced a smile. Liam nodded. “Let’s go.” He really didn’t want to spend another second with me. After we walked out, we stood at the entrance. “Liam, goodbye,” I said. “Maddie, I have something at the company, I can’t drive you back. You…” He hesitated. “I’ll take an Uber,” I said, forcing another smile. Liam nodded and drove off without another word. Watching his car disappear, tears finally rolled down my cheeks. It was always like this. No matter the weather, Liam had left me behind more times than I could count. Before, I would nod sensibly and go home alone. Waiting in that empty house for him to return. Today, it was finally over. Watching his car fade away, my heart felt like it was being torn apart. I called Chloe, my best friend from before. Since marrying Liam, I rarely went out. Chloe picked up and said, “I thought you forgot about me!” Choking back sobs, I said, “Chloe, I’m divorced.” Chloe picked me up and drove straight to a bar. “Tonight, nobody leaves sober! How long has it been since Princess Harrington came out to play?” I downed a shot. “Chloe, it’s really over with Liam.” “Don’t mention him. Don’t,” Chloe waved her hand dismissively. I continued with a bitter smile, as if I couldn’t hear her. “Chloe, three years. We were together for three years, and he never really looked at me. Am I… a failure?” Seeing she couldn’t stop me, Chloe started cursing Liam. “He doesn’t know sh*t! You’re amazing, beautiful. Losing you is his loss. That heartless bastard, ungrateful prick! If it weren’t for you back then…” “Chloe!” I interrupted her. “It was my one-sided wish. It has nothing to do with him.” “Maddie!” “I just want to drink tonight. Drink, vent to you, and tomorrow, that man won’t exist in my world anymore. Madison Harrington will no longer love Liam Sterling!” I raised my glass. “Deal!” Chloe clinked glasses with me. Maybe she got excited, but Chloe stood up and yelled, “Happy Divorce!” The people in the bar were confused but raised their glasses too, shouting, “Happy Divorce!” I stared at the crimson liquid in my glass, brainwashing myself: Forget him, Maddie. Just forget him.

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My mother and I were reborn together. In our past life, she gave everything to her precious son. When his love life failed, he snapped, killed someone, and went to prison. To raise money to bail him out, she drowned me in the bathtub. Later, she was beaten to death by the victim’s parents. After rebirth, Mom changed completely. “I’m going to make up for all the years I’ve wronged you, sweetie.” Everyone says she’s turned over a new leaf, realizing how good her daughter is. But I don’t believe it. 1 In my previous life, Mom tricked me into coming home for Christmas, claiming she wanted us to be together. She ended up drowning me in the bathtub. “I gave birth to you, I raised you. Your money, everything you have, belongs to me and your brother!” Water filled my nose and ears. I wanted to turn and ask why she was doing this, but I could only choke on the water, dying in silence. “My girlfriend is coming over for Christmas. She said she won’t accept living under the same roof with anyone else, especially you!” My arm was yanked violently, snapping me back from the blurry memories. In front of me, my brother, Tyler, was yelling at me for his precious girlfriend. “Pfft.” “What are you laughing at?” This idiot. He still treats that girlfriend like a treasure. Later, when he found out she was just using him as a rebound, he stabbed her to death right on the street. That was why Mom was so desperate for my inheritance—to get him out of jail. “Hurry up and move out. No, leave now!” Seeing me silent and just smiling at him, he got impatient. He dragged my arm, trying to throw me out the door. “Stop it!” “How can you talk to your sister like that? This is her home, no one can kick her out!” I froze. Mom was defending me against her precious son? In my past life, Mom was the one who personally kicked me out. “You’re the older sister, you should be more understanding.” She had thrown my few clothes into a trash bag. And threw me out along with it. I will never forget the look in her eyes as she closed the door. Like she was looking at a bag of garbage tossed into the dumpster. “Mom, didn’t you say last night she had to go? Why are you protecting her now?” “Jessica said she won’t live with a sister-in-law, and she’s carrying your grandkid! Whose side are you on?” Tyler looked at me smugly. He knew how much Mom wanted a grandson. But only I noticed the twitch on Mom’s face. “Your sister is my flesh and blood, of course I’m protecting her.” “As for Jessica… my precious son, you’re still young, don’t be impulsive.” “Mom, what are you saying? Weren’t you the one telling me to marry Jessica ASAP?” I leaned against the doorframe, watching them argue coldly. Now I was sure. Mom, like me, had been reborn. 2 But I don’t believe a leopard can change its spots. Mom protecting me like this… she must want something. “Come with me.” Mom pulled me back to my room. The moment she opened the door, a smell of stale mold hit me. The room was dark, piled high with old cardboard boxes and junk. In my past life, when I bought my own place, my only requirement was good lighting. I was sick of living in the dark. I stood at the door, not moving. Mom realized something, and the smile on her face froze. Awkwardly. “Uh, I’ll clean this room tomorrow. I promise it’ll be spotless.” I didn’t say a word. Even reborn, she wasn’t planning on giving me my room back. She’d rather let Tyler use it as a game room. Mom pulled me to sit on the creaky folding bed, her eyes full of concern. “Did you get your job offer?” “Yeah, why?” “You don’t have to leave. Just pay $300 a month for rent, and you can stay in this room!” The door was shoved open by Tyler. “$300?” Tyler stood there, hands in pockets, looking impatient. “What, too expensive? If it’s too expensive, get out.” Although I absolutely could not lose this house. But. “For $300, I can rent a decent studio. Why would I live in your pile of junk?” Tyler opened his mouth to argue. “Shut up and get out!” Mom scolded him while frantically signaling him with her eyes. Tyler huffed, refusing to move. Clearly determined to kick me out. Mom looked panicked. “He’s just being childish, don’t take it to heart.” I was more and more certain she wanted something from me. An unknown enemy is the scariest. Now that I knew she had an agenda, I felt relieved. “If he’s childish, teach him. If you also think I’m in the way, Mom, I’ll leave right now.” As soon as I said that, Mom panicked and grabbed me. “Don’t go, if you go, I…” The rest of her words stuck in her throat. I stared into Mom’s eyes, pressuring her. Mom bit her lip hard. Slap! A crisp sound interrupted Tyler’s whining. Tyler froze, then clutched his face, looking incredulous. “You hit me for this bitch?” “I can’t listen to your rudeness anymore.” I pretended to leave. Slap! This slap, Mom used full force. Tyler’s face swelled up instantly. “Don’t you dare make a scene!” “Look at yourself! She’s your sister, how can you push her like this for an outsider?” Tyler was unwilling but dared not talk back. He stared at me for a few seconds, then stormed out, slamming the door. Mom wanted to chase after him but hesitated because of me. Her face was full of conflict and pain. “Um, I have to go out for a bit. Don’t mind him, stay home and be good.” At Tyler’s door, Mom whispered. “Be good, Mommy’s going to buy you medicine.” Indeed, her precious son. Just a slap and she’s heartbroken. I remember when I was little, I was so hungry I ate a piece of bread Tyler didn’t want. Mom slapped me twelve or thirteen times in a row. She didn’t show a shred of mercy then. Mom left, and the room fell silent. I looked at the junk-filled room and dialed the number for the Securities and Exchange Commission. “Hello, I’d like to accept the offer.” Then I sent a rejection email to the investment bank. In my past life, to make money for the family faster, I chose the investment bank. Everyone there worked themselves to death for commissions. In a few years, I developed all sorts of stress-related illnesses. “I don’t know what got into Mom to protect her. Don’t worry babe, I’ll make sure she gets out!” 3 Sure enough, his backup arrived shortly. “My grandson and granddaughter-in-law need a new house. They won’t live in this dump! Go get a loan and buy your brother a house!” Grandma stormed in, yelling at me. “Why should I take out a loan for them?” “You’re the older sister! Your brother is getting married, you should contribute! You have a job now, the bank will lend to you. Go do it, stop playing dumb!” Grandma was always so entitled. When I was little, Tyler broke her favorite vase, and she slapped me. “Why didn’t you watch your brother?” Tyler stole the imported candy my teacher gave me for getting first place. “Why are you so stingy as a sister? Suffering is a blessing! Fighting your brother for food, aren’t you afraid your mouth will rot?” This bias ran through my entire childhood. “What does his marriage have to do with me? No money but wants to date, trying to look rich when he’s broke.” Hearing this, Grandma’s face turned livid. She suddenly grabbed my hair. I gasped in pain. “Getting bold, are we? Talking to me like that!” Her other hand grabbed my collar, shaking me violently. “Let go, old hag!” I gritted my teeth and struggled. But she was like a madwoman, cursing non-stop. “Raised you for nothing all these years! Ungrateful wretch, won’t help your brother’s marriage, God will punish you! You’ll get struck by lightning sooner or later.” “Aren’t you afraid Mom will come back and deal with you?” I yelled at Tyler standing nearby. He was playing on his phone. “I don’t know what spell you put on Mom. But even if she dares to talk back to me, can she talk back to Grandma? Our family relies on Grandma’s pension. What can she do to Grandma?” Hearing this, my heart went cold. Grandma’s grip got rougher. My scalp screamed in pain, cold sweat dripping down. “What are you doing!” The door was suddenly pushed open with a bang. Mom rushed over and forcibly pried Grandma’s fingers open. Grandma screamed in pain. “Are you crazy?” Grandma looked at Mom in disbelief, her voice shrill. Tyler’s eyes widened too. “You’re the crazy ones, treating your own family like this for an outsider.” Mom’s tone was rare and firm. The back blocking me felt unfamiliar for a moment. “If you don’t move, don’t ask me for living expenses anymore!” Mom had no income. That was why she had been subservient to Grandma all these years. Mom straightened her back and lifted her chin. “Fine, don’t give it! Think I’ll starve? But if you dare bully my daughter again, don’t blame me for turning nasty!” Grandma trembled with rage, cursing as she slammed the door and left. Tyler looked at Mom, speechless for a long time. “Crazy. You’re definitely crazy.” He smashed his fist on the table and stormed into his room. Only Mom and I were left in the living room. I held my throbbing head, looking up at her. Mom’s face showed a rare softness. She even reached out and gently straightened my messy collar. “It’s okay, Mom’s here.” She had never used such a gentle tone with me before. 4 Neighbors I met these past few days were all emotional. “Your mom really changed. She even talked back to the old lady for you. She never dared to be so tough before! You must be a good daughter to her from now on.” Listening to these words, I just lowered my head and smiled. Mom really was different. When I went to work, breakfast was ready on the table. Before I got off work, she’d text asking what I wanted for dinner. She even washed and folded the old clothes in my closet. These things seemed ordinary, but they used to be exclusive to Tyler. Before, if I came home a little late from school, she wouldn’t even leave me leftovers. Only a sink full of dirty dishes for me to wash. Not to mention the hot milk before bed, that was Tyler’s special treat. For a moment, I almost started to believe she really wanted to make it up to me. Coming home from work, Mom served a plate of braised ribs. “Eat more, you loved this when you were little.” Mom put a rib in my bowl. So she knew. But back then, getting a few bony pieces with barely any meat was already my luckiest day. I took a bite. The taste was exactly as I remembered. Savory, with a hint of sweetness. At night, she brought a glass of hot milk to my bedside, her tone cautious. “Is work tiring these days?” I took a sip of milk. She suddenly sat down and asked casually. “You’ve been at the investment bank for a while now, have you come across any insider stock tips?” My hand paused slightly, the milk rippling in the cup. I looked up at her. Mom’s eyes revealed an unconcealed hunger. That light was greed for money. The same look she had the day she killed me. “No insider tips, just public information.” I didn’t tell her I wasn’t at the investment bank at all. I smiled, hiding my gaze behind lowered lashes. Added a sentence. “But there’s a stock that might rise soon, called ‘ClearView Tech’, heard it’s going to skyrocket.” “Are you sure that’s the name?” She muttered under her breath, nodding repeatedly as she left. “Seems to be this one. This should be the bull stock from the past life.” The next morning, the daily breakfast was gone. When I came home from work, Mom blocked the door. “You have to hand over your salary to me every month from now on.” Her voice was as cold as in countless past days, maybe even harsher. “Everything in the house costs money. You have a job now, you should contribute to the family. Don’t think about hiding private money!” She gave me a cold glare. “Why aren’t you talking? Eating my food, living in my house, and not paying up? Do you think I owe you?” I looked at the familiar disgust on her face. So she didn’t remember which stock was the winner in the past life, so she treated me well to extract information. Now that she had the info, I was useless. Tyler looked smug. “I told you, how could Mom suddenly change and be nice to you? Money-loser, hurry up and earn more money, maybe Mom will reward you with a little motherly love.” “Look at your face that day, were you touched? Hahaha, so funny.” Looking at their faces, my heart was surprisingly calm. Good thing I never truly believed her. Watching Mom and Tyler echo each other, a smile floated onto my lips. ClearView Tech. Mom, buy it hard.

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I’m an NPC in the game Desire City. By day, I sell fresh, warm artisan bread. By night, I slaughter men for sport. It was pouring rain the night I was closing up the bakery. A man walked in, nothing but a black raincoat over his naked body and a hunting knife in his hand. I took a bite of my toast, bowed politely to welcome him, and then—right as his eyes widened in terror—I hoisted the chainsaw I’d been hiding behind my back. Vroom-chug-chug. Ten minutes later, his head exploded inside my industrial oven. Blood and gore everywhere. I beamed with joy. “Welcome to Desire City, player. Enjoy your game!” 1 Junior year of college, I took a gig singing at a dive bar. During the break, I downed a glass of lemonade. The next thing I knew, the lights went out. I woke up stark naked, locked in a basement. My white tee and jeans were gone. A heavy iron chain was cinched around my neck, and whips lined the concrete walls. Out of the darkness, a man in a tailored suit appeared, swirling a tumbler of scotch. Seeing me curled up in the corner, shivering, he looked disappointed. “You were singing in a dive bar, sweetheart. Why act like some innocent virgin now?” he sneered. “A girl of your… caliber? You’d make fifty grand letting a man play with you for one night. You hit the jackpot.” He balled up a wad of hundred-dollar bills and shoved them into my mouth, choking me. His polished oxford shoe ground into my bare shoulder. Liquor dripped from his glass, running down my hair and onto my chest. “Please… don’t…” I mumbled through the cash. In the dim corner, I suppressed my trembling and tightened my grip on a jagged, rusty piece of iron I’d found on the floor. Hearing me beg, the man dropped his guard. Just as expected. The moment he leaned in, I slashed the iron shard straight across his jugular. Slash. A massive ribbon of hot, bright red blood unfurled before my eyes like silk. “Gurgle… hkk…” Weird, wet noises bubbled from his lips as he flopped onto the floor like a dying fish. One stab. Two. Three… Ninety-nine. I slumped in the corner, gasping for air, my chest heaving. The man was unrecognizable—skin flayed, white bone exposed. He finally stopped twitching. But before the horror could set in, the mangled corpse vanished into thin air. [SYSTEM: Congratulations. Ability Unlocked: Infinite Wealth] [ROLE: ‘ The Sadist’ has logged off] A pale blue holographic panel floated in mid-air, looking straight out of a sci-fi movie. [Dear Player, welcome to Desire City. This metropolis is a paradise of violence, lust, money, and crime. Countless women await your hunt. Please, unleash your desires. Enjoy the game.] [Player: Ivy] [Role: Midnight Butcher. Nighttime Lethality +40% (Generated from First Kill Experience)] [Abilities: Loot, Infinite Wealth (Stackable)] [Kill Count: 1] A soft white light illuminated the basement. A black credit card lay quietly where the corpse had been. I dropped the bloody iron shard, dazed. My eyes drifted to the hidden corner where I’d found it. There was a tiny stain of dried blood and a few strands of long hair stuck to the scalp. The last woman locked down here had hidden it. Looks like she never got the chance to use it. Was she prey, too? The thick, metallic stench of blood hung in the air, but deep in my gut, a secret excitement began to bubble up. From today on, I am the Butcher. 2 Once I realized I couldn’t leave the city, I decided to lay low. The black card had no limit, so I opened a small bakery on a street corner. “Local billionaire Liam Banks, owner of the Highland Park Estate, went missing on the night of December 5th. His whereabouts remain unknown…” 11:00 PM. The last batch of bread was out of the oven. I brewed a cup of Earl Grey, nibbled on some toast, and quietly admired the familiar face on the TV news. Oh, so his name was Liam. Remembering how his face looked when I turned it into ground beef, I let out a muffled, happy giggle. “Welcome!” It was pouring outside. Just as I was about to flip the sign to ‘Closed,’ a tall, gaunt man in a black raincoat walked in. He took off his hood. His face was craggy and ugly. “Sir, we’re out of bread for the day,” I said from behind the counter, smiling sweetly and bowing. The man’s eyes raked over my clean face, lingering. He let out a dirty chuckle. Suddenly, he ripped the raincoat open. He was naked, fully aroused, and holding a gleaming silver knife. “Don’t scream. Strip.” He thrust his hips, waving the knife as he stepped closer. “If I have a good time, I’ll make your death quick.” Seeing me stand perfectly still, reaching my hand behind my back, a glint of lust flashed in his eyes. He rushed forward, impatient. I smiled and pulled out the chainsaw. Snap. The bakery became a slaughterhouse. A torso, severed in two, lay on the floor. I admired my masterpiece, finishing the last bite of toast on my plate. Best twenty grand I ever spent on the black market. This new tech cuts through bone like butter. Pop! The oven in the back kitchen heated up. The nauseating smell of cooking meat wafted out. Then came the sound of flesh expanding and exploding. I beamed. I pulled out my phone and ordered a new oven on Amazon. Once the remains vanished, the game prompt popped up again. [Congratulations. Ability Unlocked: Hacking] [ROLE: ‘The Flasher’ has logged off] [Player Ivy: Kill Count 2] The rain stopped deep in the night. I mopped up the residual blood, threw on my trench coat, and stepped out. There was a surveillance camera across the street pointed right at my shop. It was dark, the recording light off. He must have used a hacking ability to loop the footage before entering, ensuring no evidence was left behind. A perfect ability for crime. It meant that from today on, I was invisible in this city. On the way home, I stopped at a 24-hour 7-Eleven and bought some nachos and a Slurpee. The cheese was fake and gooey, the jalapeños spicy. I whistled a tune as I ate. In a few days, I’d probably learn the flasher’s name from the missing persons report. To me, these men don’t deserve names. Not until they appear in an obituary. 3 When I got back to my apartment, I heard faint sobbing from the next room. I bought this flat for myself, but I ended up taking in Faye, who had nowhere else to go. “What’s wrong?” I asked. She was shaking uncontrollably. I had to dissolve two Xanax in her hot milk just to calm her down. “Someone followed me on the way home… he… he touched me…” “Where?” “Downstairs, near the dumpsters…” Faye wrapped herself in the duvet, shivering with residual terror. I listened quietly. Once she fell asleep, I grabbed the trash bag by the door and headed downstairs. I also grabbed a claw hammer. On the third-floor landing, under the flickering hallway light, I saw a man kneeling on the ground. He looked haggard, snot and tears running down his face, slapping himself hard. “Honey, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, I was just drunk…” “I swear I’ll never do it again! If I do, may I die a dog’s death! Baby, please, just give me one more chance!” Hah. Barking like a dog. I gripped the trash bag, lowered my gaze, and kept walking. 4 This neighborhood isn’t exactly upscale. The streetlights in the alleyways had been broken for weeks, and the city never sent a crew to fix them. Under the moonlight, I reached the mouth of the alley and heard a girl screaming in the distance. I dropped the trash and followed the sound. A massive man wrapped in a thick coat was dragging a young girl deeper into the shadows. I recognized him. The local homeless guy. He’d been reported multiple times for stalking women, but the cops always cut him loose for “lack of evidence.” “Please let me go! My grandma is waiting for her insulin…” Lily struggled desperately, her young face gray with despair. The man didn’t hear a thing. He just obsessively clamped his large hand over her mouth. CRACK! A mist of blood sprayed into the air. The man went limp. His skull was caved in. White brain matter mixed with blood pooled around the girl’s feet. She looked up, saw the hammer in my hand dripping with skin and hair, and fainted on the spot. “Hello, 911? There’s a girl unconscious in the alley off 289th Street. I think her grandmother needs medical attention.” While I was on the phone, the corpse vanished. The alley fell silent. Peaceful. Even the splattered blood was gone. This is the setting of Desire City. Originally, it was designed to help men hunt without leaving traces. Now? It’s just convenient for me. [Congratulations. Ability Unlocked: Evidence Erasure] [ROLE: ‘The Stalker’ has logged off] [Player Ivy: Kill Count 3] [Role: Midnight Butcher. Nighttime Lethality +50% (Level Up)] The moment the new ability unlocked, the hammer in my hand disappeared. The call log to 911 on my phone deleted itself. Hearing the sirens approach, I grabbed a piece of cardboard from a recycling bin and covered the girl to keep her warm. Then, I walked away.

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