1 After the divorce, I left Karthus and started over alone in Dubai. Just as my name was rising in the Middle Eastern arms trade, news came: my ex-husband, Damian Schwimmer, was engaged to his mistress. My fingers traced the bullet pendant on my neck—the one he’d forged from the round that nearly killed me in the Golden Triangle eight years ago. “My life is in your hands now,” he’d whispered. Without hesitation, I ripped off the necklace and threw it away. Everyone said I was just a woman he’d won in a card game, that without him, I was nothing. But seven years later, I returned to Karthus to negotiate a new mining route. Across the table, the man who controlled half the Golden Triangle stared, his eyes reddening the moment he saw me. My mind flashed back to his father’s funeral seven years ago. There he stood with Jenna, his mistress, accepting condolences as if she were the real Mrs. Schwimmer. That’s when I knew—he had another life with her all along. … I calmly pushed the divorce papers across the table toward him. “Sign it.” Damian just raised an eyebrow. Beneath the agreement was a newspaper, its headlines screaming a sensationalized story of how Jenna had stolen the show at the funeral, humiliating the true lady of the Schwimmer family. “Evelyn, how many times are you going to pull this childish stunt?” “You’ve threatened divorce a hundred times in eight years. Isn’t it getting old?” Damian’s tone was casual as he pulled a black card from his wallet and tossed it on the table. “If that’s not enough, get more from Ty. The business is busy. Call if you need something.” I didn’t take the card. My gaze drifted coolly to Jenna, nestled in his arms. All the women Damian found over the years looked like her. I suppose I understood why he’d brought Jenna back to Karthus but hadn’t given her a title. The position of Mrs. Schwimmer wasn’t for the woman he loved; it was for the woman who was suitable. “Are you going to let her be the other woman forever?” I nudged the papers forward again. Jenna pouted, clearly offended by the label. “Miss Evelyn,” she cooed, “the one who isn’t loved is the real other woman.” Damian let out a soft chuckle, saying nothing. He reached out and pinched Jenna’s cheek affectionately before his gaze slowly settled on me. “We have our weekly visit to the family chapel tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.” I held his gaze until he and his shadow had completely vanished. Every week, Damian would accompany me to the old chapel on the estate, a ritual he claimed was to wash away our sins. His mother said my infertility was a sin. Damian said my lack of tolerance was a sin. Inside the incense-filled grand mausoleum, I knelt before the altar. Just as I drew a slip of paper bearing a dire fortune, Damian walked in. “Evelyn.” An inexplicable tightness seized my chest. “A mystic told me Jenna’s stars are crossed this year. There’s a curse on her,” he said, his voice flat. “The ritual to break it… it requires your father’s ashes for a cleansing.” I shot to my feet, my shock colliding with the cold indifference in his eyes. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Damian, eight years ago, I had a dark seer read our fates. I lied and told you we were a match made in heaven. The truth is, your fate is cursed. You bring ruin to your wives and children.” My voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “You dare touch a single grain of soil on my father’s grave, and I will smash your father’s memorial tablet and use it for firewood.” For eight years, I had wept and raged over his affairs. I finally understood that in the lawless world of the Golden Triangle, no man respects a woman who only knows how to yield. His face darkened into a thunderous mask. “Do it.” Two words. An order, not a discussion. “Damian!” His men seized me, their grips like iron. I could only watch, helpless, as they desecrated my father’s grave. “Evelyn, this is for your father’s own good,” Damian said, his voice a cruel balm. “The ashes are just sitting there. This ritual will earn him merit.” “Get away from him!” His ridiculous justification fueled my fury. I screamed, shoving the guards aside and snatching the urn back. Then, a sharp blow to the back of my head. Warm blood trickled down my forehead. The urn was easily pried from my weakening grasp. I fought to raise my head, my vision swimming. The last thing I saw was Damian’s face, silhouetted against the blinding sun, as cold and hard as granite. “Take it to the mystic.” A sardonic smile twisted my lips before darkness claimed me completely. I woke up in a hospital. My most trusted associate told me Damian had been in the Northern Territories with Jenna for days. Not only had he used my father’s ashes for that vile ritual, but he was also arranging to have his spirit bound in some dark magic to serve Jenna’s will. I ripped the IV from my arm and stormed their villa with my own loyal crew. Jenna was lounging on a sofa, sipping a delicate consommé. The color drained from her face when she saw me burst in. My eyes scanned the opulent room, landing on a brand-new, ornate shrine in the corner. My father’s photograph was sitting on it. Rage exploded in my chest. “Evelyn, you’re not welcome here! If you dare cause a scene, I’ll have Damian—” Before she could finish, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her toward the shrine. “It seems you still don’t understand the situation,” I hissed. “I am Damian’s wife. The one he married. I own half of every dollar his arms business makes. If I wanted to, I could make sure you never set foot in this city again.” My combat boot ground down on her wrist, twisting hard. Jenna let out a piercing shriek. “You… you old bitch! Damian will kill you when he finds out!” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and slammed her face against the floor. “You think you’ll be young forever? Here, youth is the cheapest currency there is.” “You want to use my father’s ashes to change your luck? Just a cleansing isn’t enough. Here, drink the water.” I had my men hold her down, grabbed the basin of ritual water, and forced it down her throat. Every drop she spilled earned her a slap across the face. By the time I let her go, her cheeks were swollen and crimson, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Hasty footsteps echoed from behind. Damian arrived like a storm, his private soldiers flanking him with rifles at the ready. “Evelyn. You’ve crossed a line.” His voice was glacial as he bent down to scoop the whimpering Jenna into his arms. I met his gaze without flinching. “And you haven’t, Damian? We’re even.” A vein throbbed in his temple. “Throw her into the snake pit in the back hills. Without my order, no one pulls her out.” It was a pit of vipers he’d had dug specifically for Jenna’s amusement. “Didn’t you say you wanted to see a show?” he murmured gently to Jenna. “Today, you’ll get your fill.” Two soldiers dragged me roughly towards the hills. In the cold, dark pit, venomous snakes slithered towards me, their fangs sinking into my flesh. White-hot pain seared through me as my clothes turned dark with blood. Just before I lost consciousness, I heard Jenna’s triumphant laughter. I pulled my lips into a silent, bitter smile. Damian, eight years ago at Crimson Ridge, you stood before all the warlords and swore I was the only one you’d ever want. But in this world, a man’s heart changes faster than the weather in the Triangle. … I spent two weeks recovering in the hospital. During that time, the story of how Damian Schwimmer had thrown his wife to the snakes for his mistress spread like wildfire across the Golden Triangle. The day I was discharged, I made good on my promise. I went to the family mausoleum and smashed his father’s memorial tablet to pieces. Only after my rage was spent did I go to see his mother. “Mother,” I said, stepping into her private prayer room. She opened her eyes, her expression a complex mixture of emotions. “Please give this to Damian.” I handed her the divorce agreement and the newspaper. “Evelyn, men like him are all the same here. Compared to power and money, what is love?” she said calmly. “The only way to truly win is to never let a man control your destiny.” She was unfazed by the news of her husband’s desecrated memorial. After decades of dealing with his countless mistresses and illegitimate children, her heart had turned to iron long ago. “Mother, I didn’t marry him because he was a Schwimmer. I married him because he was Damian.” Only I knew how the sight of him in that fighting pit all those years ago—bloodied but with eyes blazing with untamable pride—had struck me to the core. In these eight years, I had leveraged the Schwimmer family’s influence to build my own network of arms channels and contacts. I was no longer the little girl who needed his protection. I stayed only for a love that had long since spoiled. “If you divorce him, these women will walk all over you.” “If she has what it takes to take my place, then that’s her skill.” My voice was flat. But I knew Jenna didn’t have that kind of skill. No true kingpin would ever marry a woman who had nothing to offer but a pretty face. Damian’s mother was silent for a long time before having her maid take the papers. She studied me for a moment, then sighed. “So many women would kill to be in your position.” I didn’t answer. I gave a slight bow and turned to leave. Everyone envied me for standing at the apex of power in Karthus. Only I knew the truth—my marriage to Damian was like the poppy fields of the Golden Triangle: beautiful and deadly on the surface, but rotten to the core. On my way out, I ran into Damian’s cousin, Sasha. “I thought you’d put up with him forever.” “I used to think so, too,” I replied coolly. She shrugged. “I’ll admit, I never liked you much. But you’re a thousand times better than that woman he dragged out of some red-light dive in Patong.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You were with him for eight years. Aren’t you going to take him for all he’s worth before you go? You’d be losing out.” I smiled faintly. “If I stay any longer, I’m afraid I won’t live long enough to spend his money.” Sasha snorted with laughter. “A loyal man might be hard to find, but there are plenty of men out there! Once you’re free, I’ll introduce you to someone. I guarantee he’s better in every way… and knows how to treat a woman better than my cousin.” … That evening, the signed divorce papers arrived, sent by his mother’s maid. I immediately had them sent off to be filed and was about to draw a hot bath. Suddenly, the door burst open and Damian stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. He came up behind me, bracing his hands on either side of the tub, trapping me. “Good evening, Mrs. Schwimmer.” My hand, holding a glass of red wine, froze. It seemed his mother had used some trickery. He clearly had no idea what he’d signed, or he wouldn’t still be calling me that. I rose, wrapped a robe around myself, and tried to push past him. “Still throwing a tantrum? What happened with Jenna is in the past.” He grabbed my arm. I caught sight of a bright lipstick stain on his collar and coolly shook him off. “This isn’t a tantrum. It’s disgust.” “Your taste, Damian,” I said, my voice dripping with contempt, “is as cheap as the perfume that woman wears. It makes me sick.” The next day, for the first time, we did not attend the annual Valerium Jewel Auction together. When Damian walked in with Jenna on his arm, the entire room went silent. I entered just in time to hear him instructing a business partner to call her “the lady of the house.” Someone sharp-eyed spotted me and immediately greeted me respectfully, “Mrs. Schwimmer.” “Well, if it isn’t the real Mrs. Schwimmer,” Jenna sneered, her eyes raking over my simple dress. “Looking a little… plain tonight, are we?” I raised my hand, letting the light catch the magnificent emerald ring that symbolized my status. “It doesn’t matter what I wear. What matters is who people recognize.” I smiled sweetly. “Where there’s a wife, there’s a mistress. I suppose my tolerance can’t compare to yours, Miss Jenna. You seem quite content with a lesser role.” Just then, the host invited Mr. and Mrs. Schwimmer to the stage for the opening ceremony. Damian extended a hand to me. “Come on. Don’t keep our guests waiting.” He led me to the stage, his message clear. First, he was offering me an olive branch. Second, he was declaring to the world that our marriage was as solid as ever. The unveiling, the speeches—we moved with the flawless synchronicity of years of practice. For a fleeting moment, the warm stage lights sculpted the mature lines of his profile, and I was thrown back eight years. We were just like this then, supporting each other as we took over our first smuggling route. The night we closed our first ten-million-dollar deal, he’d slipped this very ring on my finger on a boat on the Serpentine River. “Congratulations, Mr. Schwimmer,” I had toasted him, smiling. “This journey has been a glorious blaze of blood and fire.” But a man’s heart, I now knew, was more fickle than the Golden Triangle sky. I excused myself for some air and stepped out onto the balcony. Jenna followed. “Miss Evelyn,” she said, her voice laced with provocation. I turned to face her, my expression a mask of indifference. “The night you miscarried four years ago,” she began, her eyes glinting with malice, “Damian told you he was in a business meeting. He was in my bed.” She was trying to break me. My hand, holding a cigarette, was steady as a rock. “I thought you would have come up with something better by now.” Her brow furrowed. “He said he loves me! He said he’ll divorce you and marry me in a lavish wedding!” I laughed as if it were the funniest joke I’d ever heard. “Did he tell you that in bed? Darling, the promises of love he’s made to me could stretch from Aethel to the Crimson Ridge. Every woman he brings to me says the same thing. What makes you think you’re any different?” I stubbed out my cigarette, ready to leave. As I brushed past her, she grabbed my wrist. “The first time I walked into the Schwimmer estate, I knew you were the lucky one! Why you? We came from the same dirt, so why did you get to be Mrs. Schwimmer?” Her voice rose with hysteria. “I’m younger, prettier! I’m clearly the better asset!” “I’m begging you,” she sobbed, “divorce him! Set him free!” I frowned, about to wrench my arm away, when a deafening roar erupted from below. The building shuddered violently. The balcony railing groaned, then snapped. When Damian and his men rushed up, the balcony had already fractured, leaving Jenna and me stranded on opposite, teetering sections. “Boss! It won’t hold!” one of his men yelled. “We can only save one!” A second collapse was imminent. Whoever was left behind would face almost certain death. Jenna was sobbing hysterically. My own face was pale with fear. “Damian,” I said, my voice trembling slightly, “the day I lost our baby, you swore you would never fail me again.” It was my last, most pathetic piece of leverage. Damian’s jaw was clenched, his eyes a war of indecision. Just then, Jenna shrieked, “Damian! I’m pregnant with your child!” His pupils contracted. The decision was instantaneous. “Get Jenna first!” I watched as they scrambled to pull her to safety. The stone beneath my feet crumbled into nothing. As gravity took hold and I plummeted downwards, I closed my eyes. Of course, I thought. It’s two of them against one of me. How could I ever win? Luckily, I landed on a canvas awning, which broke my fall. I was found by a rescue team after being unconscious for a day and a night. By the time I woke up, the news was everywhere. [VALERIUM COLLAPSE SUSPECTED TO BE RIVAL SABOTAGE. DAMIAN SCHWIMMER FLIES TO SWITZERLAND WITH TRAUMATIZED LOVER FOR RECUPERATION AND PRENATAL CARE.] The accompanying photo showed him protectively holding Jenna’s waist. The departure time was the exact moment I was being wheeled into emergency surgery. Just like when I had miscarried—alone in a cold hospital bed, with no one by my side. While Damian was away, I recovered in silence. His second-in-command, Ty, sent a constant stream of gifts—from fresh orchids flown in from France to priceless jade necklaces. I threw them all out. The day I left the hospital, I went to our old house in the Eastwood district. I burned everything he had ever given me. As I walked out of the alley, a military-plated SUV was parked there. Damian was back, and he was waiting. “Jenna’s pregnant,” he stated flatly, leaning against the car as he lit a cigar. “As per our original agreement, the divorce settlement is sixty-forty. Your favor,” I said, my face a blank canvas. He squinted at me. “Mother will only ever acknowledge you as her daughter-in-law. Even with a baby, Jenna will never surpass you.” He took a drag from his cigar. “I can live without a mistress. I cannot run this empire without a queen by my side.” I understood. He didn’t want to divorce me because he loved me, but because I was still useful. “So? The one blocking your true love isn’t me, it’s your mother. Take it up with her.” I started to walk past him. “Mother wants you back at the estate in three days,” he called after me. “When the child is born, it will call you ‘Mother’.” I didn’t break my stride. I hitched a ride on a local’s truck back to my villa in Aethel. A quick check of my accounts showed several tens of millions of dollars, a mere drop in the ocean of Damian’s empire. They say power corrupts men, and corruption empowers women. If I could kill my feelings for him and maintain this sham of a marriage, I could live a life of obscene luxury. But I would no longer be a prisoner in this gilded cage. I bought a one-way ticket to Dubai, departing in three days. The moment the divorce was finalized, I would be gone. Three days later, the negotiation at the old estate was tense. It all boiled down to whether Jenna could use the baby to secure her position. Damian’s mother was unyielding. “The child cannot be born. The Schwimmer bloodline will not be carried by some woman of questionable origin.” Damian tapped his fingers on the mahogany table. “The child will be born and raised under Evelyn’s name. Since she can no longer bear children, this is the perfect solution.” “No,” his mother snapped. I set down my teacup. “The night I miscarried, you swore to me you would never have children with another woman.” Damian’s voice was low and rough. “Evelyn, we can’t live our lives bound by old promises.” Suddenly, a car horn sounded outside. It was a courier. I went out and signed for the document. Inside were two crimson folders. Two certificates of divorce. I took mine and placed it in my bag. When I turned, Jenna was standing right behind me, her eyes filled with venom. “Evelyn, I hate you! Why does everyone protect you?” I couldn’t be bothered. I tried to step around her, but she grabbed my arm. “I’m going to erase you from his heart completely!” With that, she snatched a fruit knife from a nearby table and plunged it deep into her own stomach. Damian and the others rushed out at the commotion, only to find Jenna crumpled on the ground, blood pouring from the wound. “Damian… she tried to kill me… she wanted to kill our baby…” she gasped, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Evelyn!” Damian roared, his eyes promising murder as he scooped Jenna into his arms. I watched the melodrama unfold, my expression cold. “If the baby is lost, she has only herself to blame.” CRACK! A vicious slap struck my face. “You bitch!” His eyes were ice. “I’ll deal with you when I get back!” I watched them speed away, wiping a trickle of blood from my lip. My phone buzzed—a reminder that my flight was boarding soon. Sasha slipped over to my side and gestured at my phone. She had sent me a text. “Evelyn, I know it wasn’t you. When you get to Dubai, if you need help, contact this person. His arms business is huge, and… he’s always admired you.” I looked at the familiar name and number on the screen and nodded. “Help me give this to him.” “And congratulate him for me. After eight years of waiting, his wish has finally come true.” I handed Damian’s divorce certificate to Sasha, picked up my luggage, and walked toward the docks without a single look back. I had to take a boat out of Aethel Port before catching my connecting flight. Standing at the railing, the wind from the mouth of the Serpentine River whipping around me, I dialed the number. A calm, smiling male voice came through the line. “It’s been a long time, Evelyn. I’ll pick you up when you land in Dubai.” “Okay.” I clutched the ticket out of Karthus, my knuckles white. Damian, it’s been eight years. I’m finally letting you go. And I’m finally setting myself free.

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I’m a professional substitute, specializing in high-stakes contracts for the city’s elite. My current target is Damian Thorne, the family’s youngest son—a spoiled, arrogant trust-fund brat. My mission: tame him with “love,” get him to settle down, and stop causing trouble for the family. I’m good at my job. Business was proceeding as usual until the “trophy” he won at a street race showed up. The girl looked about seventy percent like me, but there was a stubborn fire in her eyes I could only ever fake. I quietly pulled out my phone and messaged Damian’s older brother. “Boss, target seems to have found true love. Requesting final payment.” Suddenly, Damian’s hand clamped down on mine. “Who said you could leave?” His brother’s reply came a second later: “Change of plans. Stay put.” 1 My name is Maya Willick. I’m a professional substitute. I get paid to play a part. My current contract comes directly from Adrian Thorne, the heir to the Thorne empire. His younger brother, Damian, is the city’s most notorious hellion, whose favorite hobby is finding new and inventive ways to create scandals for his family. Last week, he put the sole heir of the Langston family in the ICU. The reason? The guy cut him off during a race. Last month, at a yacht party, he tossed the daughter of the Zhao family into the pool because she tried to feed him a piece of fruit. Thanks to his regular appearances on the nightly news, Thorne Industries’ stock has been on a wilder ride than any rollercoaster. When Adrian Thorne found me, I was sitting in a private suite at The Empyrean Club, idly flicking a lighter open and closed. He pushed the door open, flanked by two bodyguards in black suits. The air crackled with his presence. “Maya Willick?” His voice was flat, as if confirming an inventory item. I glanced up but said nothing. The club manager hurried to his side, offering a nervous smile. “Mr. Thorne, this is our most… compliant girl.” Adrian ignored him, his gaze fixed on my face, assessing me. After a long minute, he held out a hand, and his secretary immediately produced a checkbook. He scribbled something, tore out the check, and slid it across the glass coffee table toward me. I glanced down. The number was enough for me to live lavishly for years. “What’s this for?” I didn’t touch it. The secretary stepped forward, his tone robotic. “The target is the second young master, Damian Thorne. Your objective is to make him fall in love with you, obey only you, and cease his troublemaking.” I raised an eyebrow. “Taming a wild animal?” The secretary’s expression didn’t flicker. “The second young master responds to a soft touch, not force. He has a preference for women with long, dark hair who wear simple dresses. Your personality should be gentle, not overly opinionated. Most importantly, you must make him believe you are pure, that you’re not after his money—only him.” I listened, then let out a small laugh. I picked up the check and flicked it with my thumb. “That same amount, wired to your account every month,” Adrian finally spoke again, his tone one of absolute certainty, as if bestowing charity. I looked at the check and thought for three seconds. Then I turned to him and gave him my most submissive, beatific smile. “Of course, boss.” There was no reason to refuse. After all, acting is my profession. And the pay was excellent. 2 The plan to get close to Damian went off without a hitch. I played the part of a pure-hearted college student working part-time at the club, one who sold her art but not her body. The third time he “coincidentally” came to my rescue was in a dimly lit back alley. A group of drunk men had cornered me, their hands getting bold. I could have handled them myself, but I didn’t move. I waited until I heard the distant roar of Damian’s obnoxious sports car before I let the tears fall. He got out and kicked the man who was reaching for my face to the ground. “Get lost,” he said, his voice lazy with sleep, but his eyes were ice-cold. The drunks recognized him, sobered up instantly, and scrambled away. I huddled against the wall, hugging myself, my shoulders trembling just so. Damian walked over and crouched down to look at me. His fingertips were cool as he brushed a stray strand of hair from my cheek. “You again?” He smirked. “Is being beautiful a crime?” I was wearing a simple white cotton dress, slightly faded from many washes. The night wind rustled its hem and my long hair. I looked up, my eyes red like a rabbit’s, and whispered, “I’m sorry… for troubling you again.” His friends found him then, whistling as they saw us. “Damian, who’s this? Hiding out here with a new girl?” One of them swaggered over, a sleazy grin on his face, reaching for me. Damian slapped his hand away, his brow furrowing. “You want to lose that hand?” The others quickly changed their tune. “Are you blind? This is obviously Damian’s girl. You can’t touch her.” After they’d sulked away, I carefully, tentatively, reached out and tugged on the cuff of Damian’s sleeve. He didn’t pull away. I tilted my face up to his, my eyes shimmering with unshed tears and total reliance. “They only leave me alone when you’re here.” Damian studied me for a few seconds, then suddenly swept me up into his arms. I let out a small gasp and instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck. “What—what are you doing…?” He carried me toward his car, his tone nonchalant. “Aren’t you cold, dressed like that?” His breath tickled my ear. People were watching. I buried my face in his chest, my voice muffled. “I… I don’t need a title…” I thought I heard him laugh. He settled me into the passenger seat, and as he leaned in to fasten my seatbelt, his lips brushed against mine in a feather-light touch. “Alright.” 3 Everything was proceeding according to plan. To the world, I was a Cinderella who had hit the jackpot, the girl who had captured the heart of Damian Thorne. Pure, gentle, with eyes only for him. I loved him to the point of self-annihilation. I fretted when he raced, worried when he fought, and grew anxious that other women would steal him away. But I had no right to control him, so I could only plead with him through teary eyes. Fortunately, Damian seemed to have a weakness for this act. The moment my tears started, he would usually cave. He stayed out of trouble for nearly six months. Everyone in his circle said Damian had changed, completely wrapped around a little girl’s finger. Adrian was very pleased and gave me a triple bonus. I became Damian’s gilded canary, the pet he paraded at every social event. In many people’s eyes, I was a potential candidate for the future Mrs. Damian Thorne. But I knew the truth. Adrian would never allow a woman with a “questionable background” to marry into the Thorne family, no matter how good my performance was. In their world, I was, and always would be, just a toy. So, when I once again begged him with tear-filled eyes not to participate in an underground race, for the first time, he didn’t immediately agree. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, stuck one between his lips, and lit it. “What are you afraid of?” he said, blowing out a ring of smoke and watching me through the haze. “Your man’s a damn good driver.” I gripped his arm, shaking my head. “It’s too dangerous, I’m scared…” He patted my head, his tone a little dismissive. “Be good. I’ll take you out for a late-night snack after the race.” Then he turned and walked toward the black, heavily modified car he hadn’t driven in months. His sycophantic friends cheered and whistled. A stone dropped in my stomach. I slowly turned my head. And there she was. A group of men were leading a girl onto the platform usually reserved for the winner’s prize. She was also wearing a white dress, with long hair, looking delicate. But in her eyes, there was a stubborn fire I could only ever fake. A wealthy heiress who had long despised me stood nearby, arms crossed, a smirk on her face. “You missed out when you had that fever a few days ago. We were at The Labyrinth bar. She’s a singer there. Some clients were harassing her, and Damian stepped in.” I blinked, saying nothing, my mind racing. Did Adrian hire another one? No, he’s not that stupid. Then… was this an accident? I lowered my head and sighed. When I looked up again, my eyes were already brimming with tears. This time, though, the sadness was real. My double salary was probably done for. The heiress saw my expression and sneered. “Did you really think you could marry into a family like that? It was only a matter of time.” I ignored her and quietly took out my phone. I started searching: Resignation letter template. How to write one that was sincere enough to make the boss feel a pang of guilt and maybe offer a little severance pay. 4 Damian won the race, of course. But the guy he was racing against was a terrible driver and went straight through a guardrail on a turn. The scene descended into chaos, the wail of sirens growing closer. No one dared to blame Damian. All their anger was directed at the girl. “If anything happens to Paul, you’re dead, bitch!” The girl’s face went pale with fright, and she shrank back. Damian pulled her behind him, his cold gaze sweeping over the person who had spoken. “Say that again. I dare you.” I stood a short distance away, watching for a few seconds. Then I walked over, took the jacket Damian had draped over my shoulders earlier to keep me warm, and gently placed it on the girl. She shivered and looked at me. I gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s windy tonight. Don’t catch a cold.” Then I looked at Damian. He was watching me, his expression complicated. I forced a weak smile. “You… did the same for me once.” The girl whispered to Damian, “Who is she?” Damian didn’t answer. He just stared at me, his brow slightly furrowed. I couldn’t keep up the act with him looking at me like that. I had to look down to hide the true emotion in my eyes. It’s over. Adrian was probably going to dock my entire month’s salary. Worse, he might hold me responsible for failing the mission. The more I thought about it, the more panicked I became, and my face must have shown it. But the girl just tugged on Damian’s sleeve, her voice trembling. “Does she… hate me?” Damian’s gaze shifted from me to her. He patted her back, his voice softening. “Don’t be silly.” I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I turned and walked away, the stares of the crowd like needles on my back. Damian didn’t follow. He was quietly instructing his men to take the girl to get changed. I found a quiet corner, my palms slick with sweat. I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly. I opened my email, found Adrian’s address, and sent the resignation letter I had just drafted. It was heartfelt, emphasizing my dedication over the past few months and my gratitude for his “patronage.” I hoped he would, for old times’ sake, let us part ways amicably without further repercussions. Just as I hit send, my phone rang. It was Maria, the manager from The Empyrean Club. “Maya, dear, are you free to swing by tomorrow? You still have some things in your locker.” I thought for a moment. I did have a few personal items there. “Okay, I’ll be there tomorrow.” After hanging up, I hailed a cab and went back to the small apartment I had secretly bought. I scrubbed off my makeup, took a long shower, and collapsed onto the bed. No more maintaining a persona. No more worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing. I took out my SIM card, played on my phone all night, and didn’t fall asleep until dawn. I woke up in the evening. I changed into a comfortable t-shirt and shorts, my face bare, and shuffled out in flip-flops to retrieve my things from The Empyrean. Maria looked surprised to see me but didn’t ask any questions, leading me straight to the locker room. I grabbed the small bag containing a few books and an old bracelet and said my goodbyes. I had just reached the main lobby when I heard a voice I never wanted to hear again. “This is the place?” Damian’s voice, laced with a casual disdain. He was with the white-dress girl, who was whispering something to him. A few of his cronies followed, laughing. “Is Damian here to stand up for his new girl?” “Whoever bullied her before, step up now!” My heart seized. I quickly lowered my head, pulled my face mask up higher, and tried to slip out through the other side. “Maya?” someone called out uncertainly. I froze, cursing under my breath. How could they possibly recognize me? I ran a hand through my messy hair, shook my head, and quickened my pace. Maria tried to intervene. “Gentlemen, let me show you to your suite. That’s just one of our new girls, you must be mistaken…” Before she could finish, my wrist was grabbed from behind in a vice-like grip. Damian’s voice turned cold, commanding. “Look up. Take off the mask.” My body went rigid. I kept my head down, playing dead. The air grew thick with tension. Finally, the girl spoke, her voice timid. “Damian… I-I don’t feel so good.” The pressure on my wrist lessened slightly. He was silent for a few seconds before finally letting me go and turning to the girl. I bolted without a second’s thought, a cold sweat breaking out on my back. It wasn’t until I was safely in a taxi that I could breathe again. The faint, aggressive scent of Damian’s cologne still seemed to linger in the air. But now, it was mixed with a strange, sweet floral fragrance. How long had they been together… for their scents to mingle like that? 5 The next few days were a blur of glorious, slothful bliss. I ate, slept, played video games, and binged TV shows, my days and nights completely reversed. No more psychoanalyzing Damian’s moods, no more maintaining that damn pure-and-innocent persona. I was almost grateful to the girl for her sudden appearance. She had given me an early retirement. Until I saw the local news. The young master of the Vanderbilt family, Paul, had taken a turn for the worse and was back in the ICU. The media went into a frenzy, pointing their fingers directly at Damian, calling him a malignant tumor on society who used his family’s name to run rampant. I crunched on an apple and sighed. It seemed the Vanderbilt family wasn’t going to let this go. Paul Vanderbilt was their only heir, after all. Adrian was going to have a massive headache. Just as I was savoring the schadenfreude, my doorbell rang. I answered it with the apple still in my mouth. Two men in black suits stood outside, their faces impassive. “Miss Willick, Mr. Thorne would like to see you.” My heart dropped. Damn it. The drama had found me again. … Adrian Thorne’s office was even colder than I remembered. He sat behind a massive desk, his expression unreadable. “Miss Willick,” he began, his voice devoid of warmth. “Enjoying your vacation?” I managed a dry laugh. “It’s… been okay. Is there something you need, Mr. Thorne?” “You may have forgotten, but our contract has not been formally terminated.” He looked up, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through me. I rubbed my nose. “Damian has… someone new now, doesn’t he? I don’t think I have much influence anymore.” Adrian didn’t speak, just watched me. The silence was unnerving. I pressed on. “Maybe… you could talk to the new girl? I’m sure he’ll listen to her now.” “Not everyone is like you, Maya. Motivated only by money,” he stated, as if it were a simple fact. I was speechless. It felt like an insult, but I couldn’t argue. It seemed Adrian had already approached the girl and been rebuffed. “So, what do you want from me?” I asked tentatively. Adrian leaned back in his chair, studying me. After a few seconds, he spoke. “Paul Vanderbilt is awake. He has specifically requested that you attend to him at the hospital.” Attend to him? I was stunned. “Does Damian know?” This was a calculated humiliation. Even if Damian didn’t care about me anymore, he wouldn’t agree to this. “Your employer,” Adrian said, tapping a finger on the desk, “is me.” I understood. Damian didn’t know. Adrian was throwing me to the wolves as a tool to smooth things over. I sighed. “Mr. Thorne, I already sent my resignation.” The office fell silent again. I looked up and met his gaze directly. “But… I suppose I could come back to work. For a price.” After all, being a companion was a legitimate job. A much better one than being a substitute. Adrian watched me, his expression unchanged. After a moment, he opened a drawer, took out his checkbook, tore out a blank check, and pushed it to the edge of the desk. “The number,” he said, “is up to you.” My eyes lit up instantly. I picked up the pen and, without hesitation, added a very long string of zeros. 6 I stood outside the door of the VIP hospital room, took a deep breath, and knocked. A weak but still lazy voice came from within. “Come in.” I pushed the door open, the smell of antiseptic hitting me. Paul Vanderbilt was propped up in bed, his left arm in a cast and a sling, his face pale. He was idly flipping through channels with the remote in his right hand. When he saw me, he raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk touching his lips. “I thought you’d refuse on principle.” I put on my professional smile. “You must be joking, Mr. Vanderbilt. Please, let me know if you need anything.” He looked me up and down. “So you’re the one. Damian’s little pet canary, the one who’s so obedient?” My smile didn’t waver. “That’s all in the past.” “Is it?” he drawled. “I’m thirsty. Give me some water.” I picked up the glass from the bedside table, inserted a straw, and held it to his lips. He took a few slow sips. “My shoulder’s sore. Massage it.” I moved behind him and began to knead his shoulders with just the right amount of pressure. He closed his eyes, enjoying it for a moment. “Get me that magazine from under the TV,” he said suddenly. I bent down to retrieve it. As I straightened up, I heard a commotion outside the door, punctuated by Damian’s furious voice. “Get the hell out of my way! I’m here to see if he’s dead yet!” My stomach plummeted. Before I could react, the door was kicked open with a thunderous bang! I froze, the magazine still in my hand. Damian stood in the doorway, radiating pure rage. His eyes, like daggers, sliced from me to Paul in the bed. Behind him, bodyguards and nurses hovered, trying to restrain him but not daring to touch him. The silence was deafening. Paul was the first to break it, smiling. He looked at the magazine in my hand, his tone suggestive. “Maya, darling, put that down for now. We can look at it later.” Damian’s fist clenched, his knuckles turning white. He lunged forward, his arm swinging toward Paul’s face. Without thinking, I stepped in front of Paul. The punch stopped, the wind of it brushing my nose, less than an inch from my face. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Good, he didn’t hit me. I was Paul’s companion now; I had to protect my client. I was being paid too much not to be professional. “Maya!” Damian stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, his voice squeezed through his teeth. “What the hell are you doing?” I offered an awkward smile. “Damian, what a coincidence. Here to visit the sick?” He grabbed my wrist, his grip terrifyingly strong. “I asked you what you’re doing here!” Paul leaned back against his pillows. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s with me now.” “You shut up!” Damian roared at him, his gaze drilling into me. “You’ve been ignoring my calls all this time just to take care of him?” I bit my lip. I couldn’t tell him Adrian had paid me. “You got hurt because of him,” I said, lowering my eyes, my voice growing soft. “I… I felt guilty. I wanted to come take care of you, as a way… to atone for his sin.” One of Damian’s friends who had followed him quickly tried to smooth things over. “See, Damian? Maya’s just worried about you. She’s afraid the Vanderbilt family will cause you trouble, so she came here on her own. Her heart is still with you!” Damian’s expression softened slightly, but his tone was still harsh. “Since when do I need you to atone for me? Do you think I’m scared of the Vanderbilts?” He started dragging me toward the door. “Come on! We’re leaving! I’ll hire ten nurses to wait on him!” The bodyguards at the door blocked his path again. Paul’s voice was laced with amusement. “You can leave. But my companion stays.” Damian spun around, sneering. “Maya is my woman. The whole city knows it.” “Oh?” Paul raised an eyebrow. “Then why don’t you ask her if she wants to go with you?” Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Damian was staring, waiting for my answer. I was silent for a few seconds, then slowly, deliberately, I pulled my wrist from Damian’s grasp. I looked up, my eyes welling with tears that threatened to fall. “Damian… I’m sorry. This time, I can’t listen to you.” Damian stood frozen. He stared at me, his expression shifting from rage to disbelief, then finally hardening into a chilling coldness. “Maya,” his voice was a low rasp, “say that again.” I bowed my head, and a single tear finally fell, splashing silently on the floor. “I’m sorry… Damian, I’m so sorry…” Damian didn’t say another word. He gave me one last look, a look as cold as ice. Then he turned and walked out without looking back. His friends exchanged glances and hurried after him. The last one to leave shot me a look of profound disappointment. “Maya, you’re a fool!” Once they were gone, I wiped my face and walked back into the room. Paul was watching me with a wry smile. “Not bad acting,” he commented. I ignored him, picked up an apple, and began to peel it. “How much did Adrian pay you?” he asked suddenly. My hand faltered. “What are you talking about?” I feigned ignorance. He just chuckled and went back to playing on his phone. I quietly finished the apple, then started on a pear, then a peach… Then he held his phone up in front of my face again. The video was shaky, the lighting dim. It looked like a booth at a bar. A girl in a white dress was sitting on Damian’s lap, feeding him a drink. The background was noisy, but I could hear her sweet voice. “Come on, Damian, just one more…” I didn’t even blink. Then, the video descended into chaos. The sound of breaking glass, men shouting, women screaming. I shot to my feet. Damian was fighting again! I tossed the fruit knife aside and hurried out of the room. “I’m just going to the restroom.” Once I was at the end of the hall, I immediately called Adrian. The call connected instantly. “Mr. Thorne, Damian is in a brawl at The Labyrinth bar. It’s getting out of hand.” There was a two-second pause. “Understood.” The line went dead. Almost simultaneously, I received a text notification: a fifty-thousand-dollar transfer to my account. I returned to the room, satisfied. Paul glanced up at me. “You still care about him, don’t you?” I shrugged. “We had a good run.” My mood was excellent. I started humming as I peeled a lychee. “I’m tired of lying down,” Paul said suddenly. “Push me outside for some air.” What? “No way,” I refused. “It’s not safe out there. What if we run into Damian…” He just looked at me. “I want to go to The Labyrinth. See the show.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “386116”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was resting in the lounge when a girl burst in. She apologized, her face flushed red. But I could hear her thoughts: [Oh no, I think I’m in the wrong place.] [But this is all my sister’s fault for trying to bully me. I was in such a hurry.] [I heard no one is allowed in Mr. Landon’s private lounge.] [Oh god, what do I do? I’m so scared.] What she didn’t know was that I’d had a dream. In that dream, I followed her inner monologue, pitied her, took care of her, and ended up on a path to ruin. My company went bankrupt, my family died tragically, and in the end, she kicked me to the curb while debt collectors sold my organs. It was only after I died that I learned the truth: she could choose who heard her thoughts. It was with this trick that she, a fake heiress, became the head of the Warren family. Now, looking at the blushing, doe-eyed girl before me, I smiled. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” 1 The girl panicked. Tears welled in her eyes as her face turned crimson. She stammered, but her inner voice was working overtime. [Oh no, I really didn’t know this was Mr. Landon’s private lounge!] [If my sister hadn’t set me up, I wouldn’t have gotten lost.] [What am I going to do? If I get my family in trouble, I’d rather just die.] [Oh, Buttons, Patches, I’m so scared.] She was certainly interesting. If I hadn’t had that dream, I probably would have fallen for it, just like before—thinking I’d discovered some fascinating secret and becoming intrigued by her. And then, I would have walked step by step down that same path to destruction. After waking from the dream, I had her investigated. Her name is Chloe Warren. On the surface, she’s the youngest daughter of the Warren family, but in reality, she’s an adopted fake. She was taken in after the Warrens’ real daughter went missing. At first, she was just meant to comfort the elderly Mrs. Warren, but somehow, she won the hearts of the entire family and was showered with affection. In contrast, the real heiress, whom the Warrens found a few years ago, wasn’t so lucky. Within a few short years, she had gained a reputation throughout their social circle as being crass, tacky, and an ugly duckling. Even the Warrens treated her with disdain. I’d heard the Warrens never gave up searching for their biological daughter, only to treat her like this after finding her. I had my suspicions, but no way to prove them. I came here today, to my private art studio, to see if Chloe would show up. And just like in my dream, she did. Only this time, I made a different choice. I was curious to see how her story would end now. 2 I watched her with a smile. “Take her to the dean’s office. Ask him how he’s managing his students that anyone can just barge in here. Weren’t all new students supposed to be informed about this room?” Chloe’s expression froze for a second. [How could this happen?] [This isn’t how it’s supposed to go!] She quickly tried to defend herself. “Mr. Landon, I didn’t mean to come in, I just got lost…” My friend, Ryan, spoke up. “Come on, Liam. It’s not a big deal. Just let her go. Otherwise, those scholarship kids will start complaining about you getting special treatment again.” Special treatment? My family donated three of the main buildings on this campus. All I asked for was one room to be my private studio. What was wrong with a little special treatment? I glanced at him. Ryan’s face was sincere, looking as if he had my best interests at heart. But in my dream, he was the one who conspired with Chloe to bring about my downfall. I ignored Ryan and simply motioned for my security to take Chloe to the dean. Chloe’s eyelashes trembled. She stumbled back a few steps, then her body went limp, and she fainted on the floor. And just like that, her inner monologue stopped. I figured if it hadn’t, it would have been filled with curses directed at me. Ryan’s smile stiffened. It was probably the first time I had ever so blatantly ignored him. Seeing Chloe on the floor, he rushed to her side and gathered her into his arms. “Liam, she fainted. I’ll take her to the infirmary.” Without waiting for my reply, he carried her out. Let him. But I wasn’t going to let Chloe off the hook. “Go tell the dean that someone broke into my studio today,” I said to my other friend, Jake. Jake put down his paintbrush and nodded, leaving the room. The Landon family holds a 40% stake in this school. For student safety, there are cameras everywhere, running 24/7. I was confident that within the hour, the school would identify Chloe, and the entire campus would know about her attempt to seduce me. Once they were both gone, I packed up my things, ready to leave. 3 I was intrigued by Chloe’s claim that her sister had set her up. In my dream, not only did I forgive Chloe for trespassing, but I also investigated the matter for her. Sure enough, there were a few thuggish-looking students waiting for Chloe in one of the academic buildings. But the dream was limited; I never found out the full truth of that situation. All I remembered was that everyone believed the real heiress, an aspiring artist named Vera, had hired them to bully Chloe. Because of that, Vera was kicked out of the Warren family, and their fortune fell into Chloe’s hands. Now, I was going to see for myself what those thugs were really up to. Jake returned after speaking with the dean. As we were walking, Ryan caught up to us. “Liam, where are you guys going?” Jake immediately rounded on him. “What was that back there? Are you into that girl or something? Seriously, man, choosing some random girl over your friends?” Ryan had always been the most dedicated of our trio. I’d always preferred him to the more carefree Jake. But I had to admit, Jake was saying what I was thinking. Ryan’s face flushed. “It’s not like that.” My identity meant I had few true friends, so I had always cherished them and never wanted to put them in a difficult position. But now? Heh. “Maybe women are just more important to him,” I said coolly. Ryan looked up at me, startled. I just smiled and strode away. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, a bucket of dirty water came flying toward me. I reacted instantly, pulling Ryan in front of me as a shield. “You little bitch! How dare you mess with the Warren family’s eldest daughter! Don’t you know your place? You— Mr. Landon!” The girl let out a sharp cry. The group of students behind her stared at me in terror. A foul stench rose from Ryan. I quickly stepped back, putting a good ten feet between us. “What’s the matter?” I said with a grin. “Tired of living?” The girl trembled. “Mr. Landon, I’m so sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose.” “I was trying to throw it on Chloe.” I sneered. “So this is what the school teaches you? Bullying?” “Mr. Landon, it’s not like that! Chloe told us to throw it on her! We’re good students, we’d never bully anyone.” She gave me a fawning smile. “We really didn’t know it was you. We heard footsteps and thought it was Chloe. She’s the one who told us to do this.” “She told us to frame Vera, to say that Vera was the one who told us to bully her.” “Oh? And did I tell you to do that?” She spun around in shock, stammering, “Vera? Y-you… how did you get here?” Behind her, a crowd had gathered, and among them was the very Vera she had just mentioned. Everyone was looking at the girl with the bucket in disgust. “Was it me who told you to bully Chloe?” Vera asked, her expression serious. This Vera was nothing like the crass, tacky girl from the rumors. In fact, she was the complete opposite. To me, Vera was not only strikingly beautiful, in a way that was a world away from Chloe’s wilting-flower act, but more importantly, she carried herself with an elegance that surpassed even Chloe, who had been raised in the Warren household for fifteen years. Interesting. The girl was shaking, her eyes wide with panic. Hearing my question, she had no choice but to confess. “It was all my fault,” she whimpered. “My father works for the Warren Corporation. Chloe contacted me and told me to throw dirty water on her, and then to say Vera put me up to it.” “She said if I didn’t agree, she’d tell Mr. Warren I was bullying her at school and get my dad fired.” “I know the Warrens dote on Chloe the most. I had no choice! My dad can’t lose his job.” The crowd erupted in murmurs. Those who knew Vera looked at her with sympathy. I turned my curious gaze to Vera. “Miss Warren, it seems someone is trying to frame you.” Vera looked thoughtful. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Landon.” “What do you plan to do?” Vera glanced at the trembling students. “Forget it,” she said. “They were forced into it.” The three of them sighed in relief. “Thank you, Miss Warren, thank you. We’re so sorry.” Fine. If she wasn’t going to press it, I wouldn’t interfere. A shame about Ryan, though. His face was a mask of utter disbelief. 4 Just then, an announcement echoed across the campus PA system. “Due to a violation of school regulations, student Chloe Warren has been given a major demerit.” For a normal student, that punishment was severe. But Chloe wasn’t normal. She had done it on purpose. The dean was an old fox; he saw right through her little act. Chloe had cried in his office, claiming her innocence, but it was useless. She wasn’t a new student. She had been here for three years, and at every freshman orientation, the dean made a point of sternly warning everyone that my studio was strictly off-limits. The next day, I heard that when Vera went home, her mother had yelled at her and even refused to let her eat dinner. I couldn’t understand it. I was shocked. Jake told me, “I heard Mrs. Warren said it was Vera’s fault for not looking after her sister, which led to Chloe getting a demerit. She also accused Vera of hiring people to ruin her sister’s reputation. That’s why she punished her.” “…” I asked, incredulous, “Is Vera actually her biological daughter?” Or was Chloe really that good at manipulating people? Jake looked pensive. “Something’s not right.” Ryan remained silent, trying to make himself as small as possible. I’d been friends with him for years, and I’d never seen him so subdued. I went home for the weekend. My stepmother was waiting for me. The moment she saw me, she rushed over, her eyes scanning me anxiously. She only relaxed when she saw I was unharmed. “Liam, are you alright?” I was fine. But I was happy to see her. In my dream, even after my family went bankrupt and my father jumped from a building, this woman, who had always seemed so cold, worked desperately to earn money to keep me in this school. In the end, she died in a car accident, and I was sold off. Our rival, the Sterling family, had swallowed our company whole. The first thing they did after the acquisition was marry their heir to Chloe, and they became the internet’s favorite power couple. At that time, Ryan was Chloe’s most devoted and tragic suitor. It was only then that I learned the truth. Ryan had grown up next door to the Warren villa. They were childhood sweethearts. Later, Ryan’s family moved up in the world and relocated. But their childhood bond was apparently unbreakable. And I, in my naivety, had believed our friendship could never be broken by a woman. I had never once suspected him. I was such a fool. For the first time, I smiled at my stepmother. “I’m fine.” Her eyes widened slightly. Ever since I was a child, I had blamed her for breaking up my parents’ marriage. Even when my father told me he and my mother had fallen out of love long ago, I refused to believe him. So I had always antagonized my stepmother. No matter how kind she was to me, I resented her. “What’s the deal with that Miss Warren, barging into your studio like that?” she fumed. “And that dean is useless. I’ll have him replaced.” “It’s nothing,” I reassured her. “She can’t hurt me. I’m a grown man, am I supposed to be afraid of a little girl?” “Mom,” I added, “I’d like some salt and pepper lobster for dinner.” My stepmother froze, patting her ears as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. I felt awkward myself, so I quickly made my escape. 5 My old man was working in his study. When he saw me peeking in, he grumbled, “Get in here.” “You got it!” I hurried inside. My father and stepmother never planned on having more children. I knew this was something my dad had settled with her before they married. Though he had divorced my mother, he truly loved me. The thought of him in my past life, driven to jump from a rooftop because of my failures, made my eyes well up. My dad panicked. “What are you crying for? Are you still upset about that little incident yesterday?” I blinked back the tears and rolled my eyes. “Crying? Who’s crying? You’re nearsighted, can you even see clearly from that far away?” My dad scratched his head. “I must have seen wrong.” “Dad,” I said, “why would the Warrens punish Vera for something Chloe did?” He went back to his documents. “Why are you so concerned with their family’s business?” “But Vera got in trouble because of me. And besides, aren’t you planning on partnering with the Warrens? Look at them, they can’t even tell right from wrong. Are they really good business partners?” My dad nodded. “That’s a good point. If some scandal breaks out, our collaboration would definitely be affected. I’ll reconsider.” That night, the Warrens received news that our family was delaying the partnership. I heard that when Mr. Warren found out it was because of yesterday’s events, he gave his wife and Chloe a severe scolding. I told Jake about it. He burst out laughing. “Your dad is awesome! The Warrens are something else. Everyone knows what Chloe is up to. If her tricks actually worked, you’d have to be like an ancient emperor with a harem of three thousand.” He winked at me. I shot him a look. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Jake stifled a laugh. In my dream, after my family went bankrupt, Jake was the one who helped me. In the end, he was framed and sent to prison. How could Ryan have done that? I sneered. “Tonight, I’m going to teach Chloe a lesson for trying to set me up.” Jake immediately dropped his hand. “Liam, we can’t do anything illegal.” I nodded and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry. There’s a good show tonight.” Jake’s curiosity was piqued. “What show?” “You’ll see tonight.” Jake pouted. “Seriously? Keeping secrets from me now?” In the mirror’s reflection, I saw Ryan’s face freeze. 6 He quickly composed himself, packed his things, and made an excuse to leave. Not long after, I received a message: Ryan was meeting with someone. He had just wasted the last chance I was going to give him. When I arrived, Ryan was being cornered by my men. He looked defeated. “Liam,” he said, “I swear I just said a few things, nothing out of line. We’ve known each other for seven years! You know me better than anyone!” Seven years. A long time. But the facts were right in front of me. I looked him straight in the eye. “Why are you so flustered? Have I said anything?” “Are you so desperate because you’re afraid I won’t believe you? Or are you afraid I’ll hurt your precious sweetheart?” Ryan was speechless. He probably realized I knew more than he thought. He stopped trying to make excuses. “Liam…” Jake was so angry he punched him. “Are you crazy? Betraying Liam for a woman? Do you have any idea how much Liam helped your family’s business get to where it is today? Is this how you repay him?” He then turned to me, his expression pained. “Liam, give him another chance! He’s just an idiot. He’s never been with a woman before. He got played and thought it was true love.” This is what a real friend would do. In my dream, the story ended after the Sterling heir, Kade, married Chloe. Ryan thought Chloe truly loved him, but in the end, she didn’t choose him either. He betrayed me and Jake for a love that was never his. But I was willing to do Jake a favor. “Fine. For Jake’s sake. Since you like Chloe so much you’d betray me for her, I’ll just wait and see how far you two get.” Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. “Liam, I’ll never forget how good you’ve been to me all these years. But I really do love Chloe.” Forget it. You couldn’t remember seven years of friendship. You think you’ll remember a woman? Don’t make me laugh. It would be a miracle if he ever managed to marry Chloe. I turned to leave. He raised his voice behind me, pleading. “Liam, whether you believe me or not, I never wanted to hurt you. I know Chloe likes you, and I thought if you two got together, I could at least see her every day. That was my only selfish motive, nothing more.” Wow. He had a bit of a cuckold fantasy going on there. Too bad I didn’t like Chloe. What good would setting us up do? Oh, right. In my past life, I actually did fall for her. God, I was so stupid. That night, I didn’t sleep well. I had another dream. In the dream, Kade Sterling and Chloe were in a car. Kade was complaining coldly that all Chloe did was cry and was completely useless. Chloe retorted angrily, “She obviously looks down on me! No matter how much I try to please her, it’s never enough.” Suddenly, another car sped toward them and crashed into their vehicle. Chloe, bleeding, looked at the driver of the other car. It was Ryan. He was manic, tears streaming down his face. “You said you would never hurt Liam! Why did you do it?” I woke from the dream as the sun was rising. I thought about it. Maybe what Ryan said was true. But once you start down a dark path, there’s no stopping. It begins with one small misstep, and before you know it, you’re being dragged into the abyss. And betrayal is betrayal. 7 I bought the penthouse apartment in the building where Chloe lived, right above her unit. I moved in directly above her bedroom. Chloe’s thoughts came through loud and clear. [Damn it! Liam can obviously hear my thoughts, why isn’t he falling for it?] [Was my acting not convincing enough?] [Ugh, Mom fell for it, why can’t he?] [That bastard. One day, I’ll make sure he dies by my hand.] “…” She sure had a big imagination for someone so plain. [Tomorrow is the party where Dad will officially introduce my sister to everyone.] [I’ve already got Mrs. Quinn’s bracelet. All I have to do is slip it into Vera’s bag.] She was always plotting something. The party to formally introduce Vera was an event our family couldn’t miss. Originally, we weren’t planning on going, but now I had to. The Warrens didn’t invite many people, just a dozen or so families, all business partners. I arrived early, afraid I’d miss the good stuff if I was late. As soon as Vera arrived, Chloe went over to her with a beaming smile. I quickly took out my phone and followed them. Chloe was so focused on Vera she didn’t notice me. Vera looked disgusted. “What do you want?” “Sister, let me introduce you to some friends,” Chloe said, linking her arm through Vera’s. Vera tried to pull away, but Chloe held on tight. Not wanting to make a scene, Vera had no choice but to go with her. Chloe led her around the venue, introducing her to a string of second-generation heirs—all minor players and people with less-than-stellar reputations. “Oh dear, where did my bracelet go?” Mrs. Quinn suddenly exclaimed. The soft music in the venue meant her cry was heard by everyone. Chloe immediately let go of Vera and rushed to Mrs. Quinn’s side. “Auntie Quinn, what happened?”

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The CEO of our parent studio, Seraphina Frye, visited the set today. She brought a box of artisanal chocolates, worth a cool ten thousand dollars, for the leading man, Aiden Reed. The whole crew started joking around, begging for a piece. So I joined in the fun. “Hey, sis, where’s mine?” Her warmth vanished the second she looked at me. “In your dreams,” she said, her voice like ice. Of course, some freelance photographer caught the whole thing on camera, and the clip went viral. I was crucified online. “Who does this guy think he is? Does he even own a mirror? Trying to start shipping rumors with Ms. Frye.” “He’s a nobody trying to steal Aiden’s girlfriend. Pathetic.” Later, Aiden’s friends dragged me into a dressing room, tore my clothes, and filmed a humiliating video, all to “teach me to respect my superiors.” Un-fucking-believable. All I did was ask my own sister for a piece of chocolate, and now I’m public enemy number one? 1 “You piece of shit! How dare you try to move in on Aiden’s girl in front of everyone!” “Get on your knees and apologize, and maybe we’ll let you go. Otherwise, we can end your career right now. Don’t believe us? Try it.” Aiden’s cronies shoved me hard, sending me sprawling onto the cold floor of the dressing room. One of them was Lucas, the second male lead in this production. He’d gotten the part by kissing Aiden’s ass—a part that was originally mine. I was demoted to the fourth male lead. Now, he sat perched on the makeup counter, phone in hand, recording my humiliation. Another guy pinned my shoulders, forcing me to my knees. “Apologize! Did you forget what we told you? You think you can get away with poaching from a senior actor?” I was speechless. “What are you even talking about? I wasn’t poaching anything. Everyone else was joking around, so I asked for a chocolate! Besides, Seraphina Frye is my sister. Why would I need to ‘poach’ anything?” Lucas rolled his eyes so hard I thought they’d fall out. At his unspoken signal, the guy behind me kicked me squarely in the back. “Shameless bastard. You’ve got some nerve calling her your sister.” This was ridiculous. The only reason I didn’t sign with Seraphina’s company was to avoid accusations of nepotism. Plus, her attitude toward me has always been a confusing mix of hot and cold, completely unpredictable. So, we had a silent agreement to keep our relationship private. And now, here I was, paying the price. Nobody believed me. Lucas sauntered over, phone still raised, and kicked me again. “We’re all in the same business! You think we’re idiots?” “Ms. Frye is the head of a major entertainment empire. You think you can just claim to be related to her?” “We looked into it. Seraphina Frye has no brother. Stop trying to ride her coattails.” “If you want to survive in this industry, you’ll get on your knees and apologize properly. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you never work in this town again!” Lucas shot a look at the guy next to him. The man behind me pulled out a utility knife, its blade glinting under the lights, and pressed the cold steel against my cheek. I froze, tilting my head away, holding my breath, terrified that one twitch would leave a permanent scar on my face. “It’s true!” I choked out. “My father and Seraphina’s father served together in the army. My dad saved Mr. Frye’s life. After my parents… after the accident, I went to live with the Fryes. Seraphina really is my sister. I swear, I have no romantic feelings for her. If I did, don’t you think I would have made a move years ago?” They exchanged uncertain glances. For a moment, they hesitated. Lucas made a call. It sounded like he was talking to Aiden. “Right. I get it.” The moment he hung up, he delivered another vicious kick, this time right to my chest. “You lying piece of shit! Aiden just asked. Seraphina said she doesn’t have a brother.” The world spun, and my head slammed against the floor. It felt like my skull had cracked open, static flooding my vision. I only came back to my senses when they grabbed my collar and started shaking me violently. I should have known Seraphina would deny me. Ever since I was a kid, she’d felt like I had stolen her parents’ love. She even accused them of favoring a boy over their own daughter. A wave of bitter injustice washed over me. Just then, a girl with a messy neon-pink mohawk and ripped fishnets swaggered in. She whistled, looking me up and down. “He’s cute. Not like I’m losing out here. But… he’s not gonna call the cops, is he?” 2 I froze. As the horrifying realization of what they planned to do dawned on me, I began to struggle with every ounce of strength I had. “Let me go! I’ll call the cops! You won’t get away with this!” Lucas just laughed. “You won’t. In this business, you make sacrifices to protect your career. Who in Hollywood is really clean? Besides, if this gets out, it’s just him sleeping with a fan. You’re the victim here.” The girl’s hesitation vanished, replaced by a wicked grin as she advanced on me. Lucas and his buddy pinned me to the floor. The impact sent a shock of pain through my entire body. I heard the sound of fabric ripping. “Damn, celebrities are something else. Not just a pretty face, skin’s soft too.” I screamed and fought, a wild animal in a trap. “Seraphina will kill you for this!” Lucas slapped my face while helping the girl unbuckle my belt. “You have no idea how much Ms. Frye dotes on Aiden, do you?” “A corporation doesn’t just destroy its biggest star. Especially when he’s her boyfriend. Everyone can see how in love they are. She’ll probably thank us for taking out trash like you.” The girl’s hand slipped inside my jeans. And in that exact moment, we heard footsteps approaching outside. “Ms. Frye, how about I treat you to that French place on Belmont Street tonight?” It was Aiden’s voice. “I’ll have to pass. A family elder isn’t well; I need to get home tonight.” It was Seraphina! She was right outside the door! Even if she didn’t want to acknowledge me, she had to know how devastated Mr. Frye would be if something happened to me. I summoned every last bit of strength, wrenching myself free from their grip. “Seraphina! Mmph! Mmph!” Before I could finish, they tackled me again, quick and brutal. “Shut the hell up!” A tangle of hands clamped over my mouth and nose. Lucas’s face was tight with panic. “What the hell is she doing here? Who is she looking for?” The agony of suffocation made my legs kick out wildly. I fought, desperate, and managed to land a solid kick on a nearby metal locker. Finally, just as my vision started to black out, I kicked over a chair. “What was that noise?” Seraphina’s voice, sharp and clear, cut through the door. 3 Seraphina was trying the handle. But the door was locked from the inside. Lucas and his crony shoved me into an adjoining closet. Aiden’s voice floated in from the hallway, smooth and placating. “It’s a dressing room, someone’s probably in there. Weren’t you in a hurry to see your family, Sera? Let me walk you out.” A cold dread filled me. Don’t let her leave. Thankfully, Seraphina insisted. “Open this door! Whoever is in there, open up right now.” Lucas and his friends started to panic, pushing the responsibility onto each other. He shoved the girl forward. “You go out there and stop them if you don’t want to go down with us.” She was trembling. “This has nothing to do with me! I didn’t even do anything yet!” “He’s barely conscious and his pants are ripped. You think anyone’s gonna believe you’re innocent?” Defeated, the girl went to unlock the door. Seraphina’s voice, colder than a winter storm, filled the room. “Who are you? Why was this door locked? What were you just doing?” The girl’s voice shook. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Frye. I’m from maintenance… I was here to fix a light, and my husband and I… we got a little carried away.” I could practically hear Seraphina grinding her teeth. “Who gave you permission to do… that… in here?” “And your husband,” she added with venomous disgust, “has some nerve, screaming my name while he’s at it. How revolting.” The girl stammered, “That’s because… my husband… he admires you a great deal.” The tension outside was thick enough to cut with a knife. Aiden tried to smooth things over. “Come on, Sera, let it go. Just a couple who couldn’t control themselves. It’s not worth getting upset over. We can have her fired.” I was still being held down, unable to make a sound. I could hear her footsteps turning to leave. With a final, desperate surge of adrenaline, I tore free from the man holding me. “Seraphina! Help—!” I never finished the word. A searing pain erupted in my back, and my body pitched forward. I never imagined Lucas would actually use the knife. My body slammed against the closet door with a heavy thud. Lucas and his friend’s faces went ghostly white. He stared at the blood on his hands, let out a terrified shriek, and flung the knife across the room. “He’s gonna die! We’re all screwed!” “I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to stop him!” Their whispered panic was drowned out by the roaring in my ears. But even if I was dying, I wouldn’t die hidden away in some dark, filthy closet. While they were still frozen in shock, I fought through the agony, my hand closing around the doorknob. By the time they reacted, it was too late. I stumbled out of the closet and fell directly into someone’s arms. Tragically… they were Aiden’s. He was half a head taller than me. One arm wrapped around me to hold me up, while the other clamped firmly over my mouth, silencing me completely. “Whoa, buddy, running out without your pants on? I know you admire Ms. Frye, but this is a bit much.” As the blood drained from my body, so did my strength. My consciousness began to fade. Seraphina sounded irritated, disgusted. She hadn’t even looked at me. I just heard her voice, dripping with contempt. “Get him out of here. Or I’m calling the police.” So this was it. Twenty years under the same roof, and she couldn’t even recognize my voice. How much did she have to hate me? No, it wasn’t hate. It was worse. Indifference. All my despair and fury focused into one single point. I bit down, hard, on the hand covering my mouth. A piercing scream. Aiden yanked his hand away. And finally, Seraphina turned to look at me. It was too late for Lucas, who rushed out to try and restrain me again. I stood before her, my clothes torn, barely covering me, blood soaking through the fabric and dripping onto the floor. I saw Seraphina’s eyes widen in horror, the color draining from her face. Lucas’s voice trembled. “Ms. Frye, this guy was spreading rumors that he’s your brother. We were just teaching him a little lesson for you.” But I only had eyes for her. My voice was a broken whisper. “Seraphina, I hate you.” “Leo!” In the final second before darkness took me, I saw her running toward me.

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1 Three years after I died, my parents finally came to the boarding school to see me. They weren’t here for me. They were here because my sister’s kidney was failing. She desperately needed a donor. Clutching a donation agreement, they searched for me everywhere, but I was nowhere to be found. When they asked a teacher where I was, he just scoffed. “Her? The orphan girl? The one with no one? She had late-stage stomach cancer. Collapsed on her first day here, rushed to the hospital. They couldn’t save her. Stone dead.” My parents thought he was in on some elaborate lie with me. My father’s face flushed with anger. “That damn girl… ditching school to run around with God knows who!” “Do me a favor and pass on a message. If she doesn’t show her face in three days, we’re disowning her. She won’t get another cent from us!” The teachers exchanged confused glances. “What money? There was never a single cent in her account.” “Where could she have gone? She’s not in class!” Fuming, my parents kicked open the door to my dorm room. It was empty. In the corner, the bed with my name tag was blanketed in a thick layer of dust that billowed into the air, catching in their throats. They quickly shielded my sister, Maggie, pulling her back. “Stay out, sweetie. Don’t let this jinx’s filth touch you.” The commotion brought the dorm mother upstairs, hands on her hips. “Are you sure you have the right room? The only girl who lived here was an orphan. No parents to speak of.” My mother arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with venom. “She’s a pathological liar. Probably shacked up with some boy she met off-campus. Hasn’t even been back to her own room.” My father chimed in, “A disgrace to the family. If Maggie wasn’t sick, I wouldn’t have wasted my time looking for her! Utterly humiliating.” The dorm mother stood frozen for a long moment before speaking. “She wasn’t shacked up with anyone. She arrived here with terminal stomach cancer. When she had a flare-up, she had no money for treatment. She passed away three years ago.” For a second, they all looked stunned. Then, they burst into scornful laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous. She was as strong as an ox. How could she have cancer?” “How much did Anna pay you to lie for her?!” My father shoved a few bills into the dorm mother’s hand, his expression a mask of impatience. “I don’t care where she’s hiding. Just tell her that if she doesn’t show up in three days, we are cutting her off completely!” The dorm mother rubbed the crisp, new bills between her fingers, her eyes scanning my parents’ expensive clothes, the designer watches, the gleaming jewelry. “If only you’d shown up with this kind of money three years ago,” she said, shaking her head with pity. “The poor girl never had any money. Not a penny in her account.” “She couldn’t even afford the cheapest painkillers. In the end, she died screaming for her mom and dad. The pain was just too much.” She was right. In my final moments, consumed by agony and despair, I had become a lost, wandering soul. My parents, however, dismissed her words without a second thought. They rushed Maggie back to the hospital, pulling every string they could to find another kidney, desperate to save her life. If they had spared even a fraction of that energy for me, a simple records check would have pulled up my death certificate. But they didn’t. Wasting half a day searching for their “ungrateful daughter” was the greatest sacrifice they were willing to make. Maggie was their treasured pearl, coddled and adored. I was the unwelcome second child, the unplanned pregnancy that had cost them their dream jobs—a jinx from birth. So, I was expected to accept their favoritism. Three years ago, I’d earned a scholarship to a prestigious academy. For a brief moment, my parents finally seemed to notice me. My joy didn’t last long. At my own birthday party, Maggie fell down the stairs, breaking both her legs. “Anna pushed me!” she’d wailed, nestled in our mother’s arms, a flicker of cunning in her eyes. She had jumped. I saw her. But no one listened to me. My parents were furious. They immediately canceled my enrollment at the academy and shipped me off to this bleak boarding school. Maggie’s injuries were severe, so they stayed by her side day and night. I had to register for my new school all by myself. The admissions office tried calling my parents countless times. No one answered. Hours later, my mother finally called back, her voice tight with irritation. “My daughter is recovering from surgery. Stop harassing us!” “I only have one daughter, Maggie. I don’t know any Anna!” The line went dead. The teachers looked at me with pity and simply wrote “No parents listed” on my registration form. I wiped my tears and tried to pay my tuition, but the card reader beeped with a cold, metallic finality: “Insufficient funds.” No money. No love. I worked every odd job I could find, pushing my body to its limit. I finally scraped together enough for tuition, but my health, battered by long hours and poor nutrition, gave out. Terminal stomach cancer. It required a fortune I didn’t have. My parents’ numbers were unreachable. The school, believing I was an orphan, held a small fundraiser, but there was little more they could do. Alone, I curled up in a corner of the hospital ward, the pain so intense it felt like my bones were vibrating. But I still held on to a sliver of hope. They’ll come. My parents will come. I can still be saved! But as I waited, the pain consumed me, and death arrived in silence. I was crammed into a crowded ward, unnoticed. Maggie, meanwhile, enjoyed a private VIP suite, with doctors and nurses checking on her constantly. “My sister still hasn’t forgiven me,” she’d sigh, her eyes red-rimmed, her voice trembling with manufactured guilt. “It’s my fault. I made her jealous… I can’t even blame her for pushing me down the stairs three years ago…” My father’s heart ached for her. He gently patted her tearless cheek. “She treated you so horribly, and you’re still defending her. You’re just too kind, sweetie.” “Don’t you worry, Maggie. Mom and Dad will find that little brat and make her give you her kidney.” After soothing Maggie, my father stepped out of the room, his face hardening. He stabbed at his phone screen. The name “Anna” lit up the display. It was my number. A mechanical voice echoed through the empty hallway. The number you have dialed is not in service. I was dead. Who did they expect to answer? The three-day deadline passed. Of course, they couldn’t find me. So they stormed back to the school, angrier than ever. “You call yourselves educators, yet you conspire with a student to lie to us?!” my mother shrieked, berating every teacher in sight. “My daughter’s condition is getting worse! We’re running out of time! How much did Anna pay you? I’ll double it! No, ten times!” The teachers tried to reason with them until they were hoarse. Finally, one of them slammed his hands on the desk. It was my homeroom teacher, Mr. Peterson. He had always been kind to me, and had helped me the most when I got sick. Seeing my parents’ arrogant display was the last straw. “This may not be a top-tier school, but we do not joke about life and death!” “You abandon your own child, and now you have the nerve to come here and cause a scene!?” “Go to the hospital and look up her medical records!” I’d always had stomach problems. My medical file clearly documented every stage, from ulcers to full-blown cancer. I had once timidly shown my parents the file, hoping they would take me to a proper hospital for more tests. Instead, they discovered that the painkillers I was taking were nothing but vitamin pills. Maggie had tugged on my father’s sleeve, feigning innocence. “Daddy, I think Anna is just trying to get your attention. That’s why she’s pretending to be sick with those vitamins.” They pulled Maggie into a hug, and without a second glance at me, tore the medical file to pieces, throwing the scraps in my face. “You’re already learning to lie at such a young age? If you ever try to trick us with these fake reports again, we’ll be done with you for good!” But my pale face, the blood in my vomit… none of that was fake. They just chose not to see it. After that day, I never mentioned my stomach pain again. Until it was too late. Seeing that Mr. Peterson was about to call security, my parents finally retreated, defeated and sullen. Back at the hospital, Maggie was sleeping peacefully. A small cake sat on her bedside table with a card. In crooked handwriting, it read: “Thank you for everything, Mom and Dad. I know I’ve been a lot of trouble while I’ve been sick.” Seeing their beloved daughter so thoughtful even in her illness, all their frustration vanished. My mother wiped a tear from her eye. “A daughter really is a blessing.” My father nodded, but then his thoughts turned to me, and his voice filled with contempt. “Maggie is so good, not like that jinx Anna. She hasn’t brought us a single day of peace since she was born! Her own sister is dying, and she just disappears.” Their eyes were full of disdain. Yet, the teacher’s words echoed in their minds. Look up her medical records. To access my records, they needed proof of guardianship. But three years ago, when they had heartlessly thrown me out, they had also had a new set of family registration documents issued. A perfect family of three. I had been officially removed, left to fend for myself on paper and in life. My mother ransacked the house, slamming drawers shut. “Where is that damn jinx’s birth certificate?” “I don’t know. I probably threw it out ages ago,” my father grumbled. Pinching his nose, he kicked open the door to my old bedroom. It was now a storage room, piled high with junk. He yanked open the nightstand, but the documents weren’t there. Instead, he found my diary. “I got a perfect score on my math test today. Mom and Dad finally agreed to take me out to play.” “I’m so jealous of Maggie. I wish I had as many pretty dresses as she does.” The closet door was open. All my clothes were hanging inside. They barely took up half the space. “Mom always calls me a jinx. I’m going to study hard and make a lot of money when I grow up so I can bring them good luck. Maybe then she won’t yell at me anymore.” The pages were wrinkled and stained with tears. They were lost in the words when the phone rang, shattering the silence. It was the hospital. Maggie had slipped into a coma. They dropped the diary back into the pile of junk and raced to her side. She wasn’t in her room. They sprinted to the surgical floor, breathless, finally finding a doctor who assured them she was stable. Only then did they lean against the wall, catching their breath. “We got to her in time. She’s not in any danger, but she’ll need to be in observation for a few days.” The doctor’s face was grim as he urged them again to find a donor quickly. My father nodded frantically, discreetly sending bonuses to the private investigators he had hired. Find Anna, no matter the cost. The next day, it wasn’t the P.I. who showed up, but an unexpected visitor. Mr. Peterson, carrying a thick stack of files. “Stop looking,” he said. His eyes swept over the luxurious private suite, a stark contrast to the grim ward where I had spent my last days. No money, no care. I had clung to life in a crowded room, while Maggie rested here like a princess. He blinked back tears. “This is Anna’s complete medical history.” “And this… is her death certificate.” “It’s all here. Please, just let her rest in peace.” I floated above them, watching their reactions. The death certificate, stamped with the official hospital seal, was on top. Irrefutable. Undeniable. A sharp tearing sound broke the silence. My father ripped the certificate to shreds and threw the pieces in Mr. Peterson’s face. “You’re a liar, just like she is!” “She tried to fool us with fake medical reports before, and now you think we’ll fall for a forged death certificate?!”

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During a white-water rafting trip, my husband lied about my father’s condition to get the rescue team to save my best friend first. My father drowned. When I confronted him, he turned on me. “What did you want? For them to waste time and let them both die?” It wasn’t until I walked in on my husband and my best friend locked in a passionate kiss in a swimming pool that I understood. He had let my father die to save his mistress. When they realized I knew, they had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. They tortured me to death with an electric baton and took over my family’s company. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment my father fell into the water. 1 “There’s no hope for Anna’s dad! Save Lily first!” I never thought the cruelest joke of my life would play out right before my eyes. The words were a bullet, piercing my newly revived heart. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing the hem of Patrick’s shirt. He shoved me so hard I fell. “You were unconscious for five minutes, Anna. Do you know what that means?” “Your dad was swept further downstream, but Lily is still right there, struggling!” “If you want to blame someone, blame your father! The boat wouldn’t have capsized if he hadn’t insisted on coming!” Patrick stood there, his posture rigid, his expression so earnest and certain it made me want to vomit. In my last life, I had trusted him completely. And what did it get me? My father’s tragic death. While I lay in a hospital bed fighting for my life after nearly drowning myself, he was out all night buying flowers for my best friend, Lily. Not this time. I would not let it happen again. I swore it. “Please, save my father!” I screamed. “The other person in the water is my best friend. She’s a strong swimmer!” Patrick’s face tightened. He slapped me, hard. The force sent me sprawling. “Anna, this is not the time for your tantrums! Don’t question my judgment!” “Are you going to make them waste precious time and let both of them drown? Who’s going to take responsibility for that? Go! Go save Lily! Save her first!” My ears were ringing. I cut through his tirade, shouting with every ounce of strength I had. “If you don’t go after my father right now, I will kill myself right here in front of all of you!” Finally, two of the rescue divers swam towards Lily, but the rest turned to search for my father. Patrick shot me a look of pure ice before hurrying toward Lily’s position. Watching his retreating back, the last flicker of hope in my heart burned to ash. By the time I saw my father again, he was unconscious from the water he’d inhaled. Just like last time, he was deathly pale on the stretcher while the rescue captain performed CPR. My heart hammered against my ribs. I frantically dialed for an ambulance over and over until I heard a voice crackle over the captain’s walkie-talkie. “Is the ambulance here yet?” “Only one. The second one is stuck in traffic, it’s going to be delayed…” Before I could ask anything, Patrick’s voice, a mixture of shock and fury, cut through the air. “Lily, you’re hurt!” He knelt, gently blowing on a scrape on her ankle, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never seen him show me. They gazed at each other with an intimacy so thick you could cut it with a knife. How had I been so blind before? This time, I didn’t miss the triumphant smirk Lily shot me from behind his back. A chilling realization washed over me. In my last life, Patrick had let my father die over a few scrapes and bruises. The piercing wail of a siren grew closer. The ambulance was here. As a paramedic and I started to lift my father’s stretcher, Patrick blocked our path. “Anna, let Dad wait. The second ambulance will be here soon.” “Lily’s leg is hurt badly. She needs to get to a hospital right away.” He stood firmly in front of the ambulance, trying to hide what was happening. “It’s fine! Your dad has always been strong. He’s just unconscious!” “But Lily is so fragile, and look! Her ankle is bleeding!” “Get. Out. Of. The. Way!” My voice was a low growl, a stark contrast to my usual calm demeanor. In the moment Patrick hesitated, Lily limped over. “Anna, we’ve been friends for so long. How could you do this to me?” “It’s not like we’re not going to save your dad. It’s just a short wait. Why is that so hard for you?” Tears streamed down her face, her voice choked with manufactured grief. Patrick instinctively raised a hand to comfort her, but then remembered I was there and froze. My childhood best friend and the man I’d loved since we were teenagers, performing a heart-wrenching drama of forbidden love right in front of me. The double betrayal was a physical ache in my chest. “Lily? What are you doing here?” A round-faced nurse hurried over from the ambulance, her eyes lighting up in recognition. My heart leaped into my throat. It was one of Lily’s colleagues from the hospital. “Jenna, my leg is injured. You need to get me into the ambulance first,” Lily said urgently. “I can’t do that. Hospital policy is to prioritize critical patients,” the nurse replied firmly. I breathed a sigh of relief as we loaded my father into the ambulance. Just before the doors closed, I saw Patrick talking to the nurse, trying to take off his watch. The nurse pushed his hand away. My focus was on my father. I didn’t think much of it and urged the driver to go. The next second, the doors were flung open again. Against the blinding sunlight, I heard the nurse’s voice, sharp with contempt. “If you don’t have money, why did you call an ambulance? The fee for a long-distance mountain call is expensive! Get him out!” My father’s stretcher was being pulled from the vehicle. “I have money! Let my dad stay, I can pay!” I screamed. “Then prove you can pay,” the nurse said, her brow furrowed. My phone was at the bottom of the river. I had no cash on me. Without thinking, I slipped the Patek Philippe watch from my wrist and held it out to her. “Take this as collateral. It’s more than enough to cover the fee. Please, let my dad stay!” The nurse scoffed. “Another Patek? Your husband just tried to pass off a fake one. Now you’re trying the same trick?” A cold dread washed over me. Now I understood what Patrick had been doing. Lily’s voice dripped with mock pity. “So pretentious, acting rich when you have nothing.” Patrick grabbed my hand, playing along. “We didn’t mean to deceive you. Please, have a heart. Take my father-in-law to the hospital.” I wrenched my hand away. “He’s lying! My watch is real! Give me your phone, I can log into my bank account and show you!” The nurse’s face hardened. “You have money for a hospital but not to take care of your own father?” “Just take him home. Don’t waste our time.” They continued to unload the stretcher. In the end, I was left standing there, watching the ambulance drive away with Lily inside. I grabbed Patrick’s sleeve. “Why did you lie? I don’t care that you’re cheating on me with Lily! But my father needs a doctor!” “If anything happens to him, I will make you pay!” The rescue team was still there, watching the drama unfold. Patrick’s face flushed with anger. “Stop being unreasonable! There’s nothing between me and Lily, so stop spreading lies!” “Her leg injury couldn’t wait! There’s another ambulance coming, what’s the big deal with your dad waiting a little longer?” Disappointment settled in my chest like a thick sludge, making it hard to breathe. “We’ve been married for seven years. Have you ever once thought of my father as your own?” It was a question that had haunted me for years. Patrick’s lips tightened, his face a mask of discomfort. … Patrick and I were each other’s first love. I gave up everything to marry him. In the early years, when we had nothing, I ate expired food with him, slept in a storage unit, and got covered in ant bites. He once walked for four hours in a downpour just to get me medicine. As he applied the ointment, he swore with tears in his eyes. “I swear before God, I, Patrick Croft, will make Anna happy for the rest of her life. If I break this vow, may I suffer a terrible death!” Later, when his business started to take off, my family finally relented. We walked hand in hand in the snow, believing we would grow old together. First love is sweet. So sweet, I thought it would last a lifetime. That illusion shattered after we got married, when the media dug up the fact that my father had been an early investor in his company. Suddenly, headlines were screaming that the proud young CEO was nothing but a kept man who had married into money. He never said anything, and was as considerate as ever, but something between us had changed. He smoked more, his silence filled with a simmering rage. One night, drunk and unguarded, he confessed. “You know what I hate more than anything? Charity.” “Anna,” he’d slurred, “I wish I had never met you.” My thoughts snapped back to the present. I looked at Patrick’s tense face. “That’s not important,” he said dismissively. The whole time, his feet were pointed in the direction Lily had gone. The irony was bitter. A perfect picture of a divided heart. By the time the second ambulance arrived, my father’s pulse was faint and weak. Once we were inside, I ignored Patrick completely, my eyes glued to the heart monitor. Not long after we started moving, my father’s heart rate began to drop, at one point slowing to just over 30 beats per minute. “Dad, please, wake up…” I sobbed. Patrick finished a phone call and stood up. “Can you drive any faster? And don’t take the long way to the city, go to the nearest town hospital!” A few minutes later, my father’s heart rate miraculously stabilized. I was so relieved I could have cried. For a moment, even Patrick’s presence felt less suffocating. The driver made the ninety-minute journey in less than thirty minutes. We rushed him through the emergency entrance. The CT scan results were bad. A significant thalamic hemorrhage. The doctor informed me that the local hospital wasn’t equipped to handle it. He needed to be transferred to a more specialized facility. “Patrick, thank you for getting the ambulance to bring him here,” Lily said, pouting as she tugged on his arm. “I thought they would have the right equipment. I didn’t realize Uncle was so seriously injured…” The world tilted on its axis. I stared at Patrick in disbelief. He pushed Lily away and took a step towards me, his eyes full of feigned apology. “Anna, let me explain…” I turned my back on him and followed the orderlies as they loaded my father back into the ambulance. On the long drive, a part of my heart crumbled to dust. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that we could never go back. At the next hospital, the accompanying nurse quickly briefed the on-call doctor. After a call to the surgical department, the doctor looked at me with pity in his eyes. “Our only neurosurgeon is on leave today…” A roaring filled my ears. I was enveloped in a suffocating wave of despair. The nearest city hospital was at least six hours away. Without a surgeon, who would save my father? The rain was relentless, splashing against the pavement and soaking the cuffs of my pants. A figure appeared in front of me, a hand extended. “Anna, let’s take him home. Let’s be with him for his final moments.” It was Patrick. I recoiled in disgust, my mind racing, desperately trying to find a solution. Suddenly, I saw Lily arguing with a strange man in the hospital courtyard. “What is she doing here?” A strange feeling washed over me. I started walking towards them. Patrick caught up to me. “That’s Lily’s ex-boyfriend. He’s from a poor family. He’s been harassing her for money since they broke up.” He added, annoyed, “Lily has a boyfriend, Anna. You need to stop being so suspicious…” The man arguing with Lily was shabbily dressed, with holes in his worn-out slippers. He fit Patrick’s description perfectly. I stopped, turning back. My father was dying. I couldn’t waste time on idle curiosity. As I passed Patrick, a raindrop hit my forehead, and suddenly, everything became crystal clear. Wait. Those weren’t just any old slippers. They were surgical clogs. Ignoring Patrick’s shocked expression, I ran out into the rain. “Doctor, my name is Anna! My father has a brain hemorrhage, he needs surgery…” I grabbed the stranger’s arm. “Are you with them?” the man, Dr. Liang, asked, his brow furrowed. “This woman just told me she has decided not to sign the consent for surgery.” Patrick stormed over. “Anna, what are you doing, clinging to another man like this?” He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me away. CRACK. I slapped him across the face without a moment’s hesitation.

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I broke up with my boyfriend. Sitting in my husband’s car, I couldn’t show a flicker of emotion. I couldn’t even cry. When I was young, I was afraid to tell my parents I was dating. Now, I’m afraid to tell my husband. My whole life has been a series of regrets. 1 I dated Joshua for over a year before I finally agreed to be his girlfriend. He was an incredible cook, and his food was exactly to my taste. After dinner one evening, I was lounging on the sofa, watching him in the kitchen with an apron tied around his waist. A sudden impulse hit me. “Joshua,” I said, “what do you think about us getting married?” He turned and gave me a sidelong glance. “Isn’t that a bit of a simple proposal?” I just smiled without answering. Later, I discovered an entire wall in his house made of acrylic shelves, displaying a collection of rare models and a number of impressive trophies. But in the very center, protected under a glass dome, was a single paper crane. It was pink, and not very well folded. Yet its place of honor on that wall spoke volumes about how much Joshua treasured it. I tried to sound casual. “That’s a nicely folded paper crane.” Joshua glanced at it. “You think so? I always thought it was pretty ugly.” “If it’s so ugly, why do you keep it like a treasure?” He shrugged. “I have to.” “It was a gift from the girl I liked. Even if it’s ugly, I love it.” The smile on my face froze. I stared at the crane for a long time, trying to remember when I could have possibly given it to him. I couldn’t. A wave of guilt washed over me. Joshua sensed my mood. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. “Alice, I know what you’re thinking. But I’ve always felt that loving you was my own affair. It had nothing to do with you. You don’t need to feel guilty for not returning my feelings back then.” “Besides,” he continued softly, “for the me I was back then, just having a secret crush on you was more than enough to make me happy.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest. “Joshua, can you tell me when I gave you this?” A gentle smile spread across his face as he remembered. “You had just learned how to fold them. You were so excited, you showed the first one to your deskmate, but she told you it was ugly.” “You got angry and started asking everyone around you.” “They all said it wasn’t very good. But I had secretly glanced at it, and I thought it was perfect. It was the most beautiful paper crane I had ever seen.” “So when you came over to my desk with it, I was shocked and ecstatic. I blushed and told you it was amazing.” “You were so happy that you gave it to me—the very first paper crane you ever folded.” I had completely forgotten about that small moment from our school days. Only Joshua would have carefully preserved such a tiny detail about me. He leaned down and kissed my eyes. “Alice, sixteen years ago, you gave me a pink paper crane. Now, I’m giving you a blue one.” I felt him press something into my hand. I looked down and saw a blue paper crane, folded a thousand times more beautifully than the one I had given him. “Thank you,” I whispered. Joshua’s lips curved. “You’re welcome.” “And thank you. Not just for the crane, but for loving me back.” 2 We went to a movie on a weekend night. It was late by the time we left the theater. When Joshua dropped me off at my house, we were met by an unexpected visitor. I hadn’t seen Adrian in a long time. He seemed to have changed a great deal. The hysteria he’d shown when we were finalizing our divorce was gone. He looked older now, haggard, with a dark, unshaven shadow around his lips. When he saw Joshua and me holding hands, he was unnervingly calm. I’d heard his family had gone through a lot since our divorce. Adrian’s mother had left his father. Unable to take his anger out on his ex-wife, Adrian’s father had turned on his son. “Your mother and I made it through all these years, but the moment Alice divorces you, she divorces me too! You useless thing, can’t even handle one woman.” On top of that, his family’s company stock had plummeted, and they were plagued by internal problems. Adrian must have been having a rough time. “Alice, can we talk?” It was the first time I had ever seen such an uncertain, almost nervous expression on his face. He must have seen the refusal in my eyes, because he quickly added, “It’ll be quick. Just a few words. It won’t take much of your time.” I frowned, not wanting to deal with him. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.” His voice softened, pleading. “Alice, I’ll leave right after. Please.” It was already late. If he caused a scene, it would be embarrassing for everyone. “Fine,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “Say what you have to say.” But he didn’t speak. Instead, he looked at Joshua. “Mr. Croft, could you give us a moment? My…,” he started, but a sharp look from me made him change his words. “I have something to discuss with Alice.” Joshua frowned but didn’t move. I knew he was feeling insecure, and I turned to reassure him. But Joshua spoke first. “I have something to tell you too, Alice. I’ll go inside and wait. Call me if you need anything.” As Joshua started toward the door, a pained look crossed Adrian’s face. “Are you two living together?” he asked. Joshua shot him a cold glance. “We’re in a serious relationship. Isn’t it normal for a couple to live together?” “You shouldn’t be so surprised, Mr. Zhou.” I stifled a laugh as Joshua found the key in my purse, unlocked the door, and confidently flicked on the lights as if he’d done it a hundred times. “Alice…” Adrian’s voice brought my attention back to him. “Get on with it.” “I’m sorry about the baby. I really didn’t know you were pregnant then.” “Alice, I’m so, so sorry.” Tears streamed down his face as he looked at me. Adrian was crying. But I felt nothing. “Let’s not talk about the past. If you came here just to apologize, you’ve wasted your time. I don’t need your apology.” When I turned to leave, he grew frantic. “Alice, please, give me another chance. For the sake of what we once had, just one more chance?” “I know I was wrong. I do love you. We grew up together, how could there be nothing between us? I was just… I was confused before.” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “What we once had, Adrian? The fact that I haven’t kicked your family’s company while it’s down is a sign of my saintly compassion. So don’t talk to me about what we had.” “You only came here tonight hoping I’d help you, didn’t you?” “Well, let me be perfectly clear—it’s not going to happen.” He closed his eyes in despair, then opened them again. “Alice, I didn’t come here expecting you to help. I know I was wrong, I know I hurt you. I’m here for me, for us. I’m begging you to give me one more chance. I’m not asking you to remarry me right away. I can pursue you again. We can start over, date again, and then get married. Can’t we just start from the beginning?” I shook my head. “No, Adrian. Stop daydreaming.” “We’re divorced. Don’t bother me again. Be a decent ex-husband and disappear from my life.” My patience had run out. I knew exactly what kind of person Adrian was. He was driven by self-interest, not emotion. He had refused to divorce me for his own benefit, and now he was putting on this show for the same reason. But I wasn’t a fool. I wasn’t going to fall into the same trap twice. 3 When I went inside, Joshua was sitting on the sofa. He looked up as I entered. “All done?” I nodded. After changing my shoes, I stood a few feet away from him, a teasing smile on my face. “Why did you tell him we were living together?” Joshua was almost painfully proper. In all the time since my divorce, we had never gone further than kissing. Even when we kissed, he would blush. Sometimes, if I initiated it, he would even tear up. I never understood it, but I would always gently comfort him. “Come here.” Instead of answering, Joshua just looked at me and held out his hand. I placed my hand in his and let him pull me into his lap. Only then did he look at me and say, “How else was I supposed to win? When you looked at me back there, I was so scared you were going to tell me to leave.” “If I left, you’d be alone with him. I couldn’t stand it. I was terrified. I was scared you’d feel sorry for him, that he’d trick you again, that you… wouldn’t want me anymore.” His voice started to break. I cupped his face in my hand and kissed his jaw. “You trust me that little?” “I do!” he said firmly. “But I’m still scared.” “As long as I love you, I’ll always be insecure. I’ll always feel like I could lose you.” “I’m so afraid you’ll get tired of me being like this, but I can’t help it.” His voice was laced with self-loathing. “Joshua, that won’t happen,” I said softly. I shifted to face him directly. “I wasn’t going to ask you to leave.” I held his face and leaned in to kiss him. He started crying again. But he instinctively tightened his arms around my waist, pressing me closer. The kiss started with me in control, and Joshua seemed to melt into it. As I started to grow breathless and pull away, he took over. He kissed me tirelessly, his lips growing more demanding, more passionate, as if he wanted to devour me whole. When I was limp in his arms, gasping for air against his shoulder, I heard him laugh softly. “Rested up?” “Should we continue?” I shot him a playful glare and changed the subject. “Didn’t you say you had something to tell me outside?” “Mmm,” he murmured, his lips finding mine again. “I wanted to tell you how much I wanted to kiss you.” After what felt like the tenth time I collapsed against his shoulder to catch my breath, I hesitated, then asked, “It’s late. Do you want to stay over?” We were both adults. He knew what I was asking. Joshua had never once stayed the night at my place. He didn’t know that I had already bought several sets of clothes for him, waiting in the closet of the guest room. They had never been used. As I looked into his eyes, I could see the desire burning there. He traced the shell of my ear, his gaze almost greedy. Just when I thought this time would be different, he refused me again. “Not yet.” “Why not?” He didn’t answer. He just held me tighter, and I could feel the evidence of his arousal against me. But even so, he was still saying no. “Go take a shower, sweetheart,” he said, his voice raspy. “I’ll leave after you’ve fallen asleep.” I looked at him, a little frustrated, but didn’t press him. I just climbed off his lap with a huff. 4 Even though I had made it perfectly clear to Adrian that it was over, there was a bouquet of Rhodes Roses waiting in my office the next morning. He had given me the same flowers when we first started dating, telling me they were just for me, that he would never give them to anyone else. Later, I found out he had given them to all of his mistresses, repeating the same lines to them verbatim. “Ellie, get this out of here.” “And from now on, I don’t want to see anything like this in my office again.” My assistant quickly removed the flowers. That cursed bouquet put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Every evening, if he was in the city, Joshua would pick me up from work and we’d go to dinner. Today was no exception. In fact, he was early. “You usually wait downstairs. What brings you up?” I asked with a smile. He placed a paper bag on my desk. “A little something for you and your staff.” Inside were bottles of a luxury perfume from his company’s brand. Everyone in the office got one. Now, my employees were happier to see him than they were to see me. I leaned back in my chair and sniffed the perfume. “Big spender today, Mr. Croft,” I teased. He just smiled. “Just a little trick to win my girlfriend’s favor.” He was also holding a small potted plant. An Orange Jessamine. When he saw me looking, he placed it on my desk. He was a true romantic, down to his very soul. He brought me flowers every day, and they were never the same kind twice. At first, I thought he was just a player, but after meeting his parents, I realized he got it from his father, who had been bringing his wife flowers every day for decades. Sometimes, genetics and upbringing really do matter. “Orange Jessamine?” “Mmmhmm.” The flower’s meaning was, I am your captive. I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. Since I was in a good mood, we left work early. In the elevator, Joshua asked, “What do you feel like eating tonight?” “Anything. You decide.” He looked down at me, and I could see my reflection in his smiling eyes. My perfect mood evaporated the moment we stepped out of the building and saw Adrian waiting for us. He was like a ghost I couldn’t shake. And in that moment, I understood why Joshua had come early. “Alice.” Adrian started towards me. Joshua let out a cold laugh. “What? Still haven’t said your piece?” When he turned back to me, the ice in his expression melted away. He looked dejected, his eyes welling up with tears. “You two talk. I’ll wait for you in the car.” I grabbed his hand. “No. I have nothing to say to him.” Joshua squeezed my hand back and shot a triumphant look at Adrian. “Come on, Joshua. We’re both men. You don’t need to play these games,” Adrian sneered. I frowned. “Adrian, I told you to stop bothering me.” He seemed to revert to his old, arrogant self. “Alice, can’t you see he’s just playing the victim? He’s being manipulative! I can’t believe you don’t see through his act.” I laughed coldly. “Whether he is or not is my business. But you? Every one of those women you kept on the side was a master manipulator, and you never saw it. Now you have the nerve to come here and talk trash about Joshua?” “Adrian, I told you, we are over. Stop making a fool of yourself.”

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1 The moment my husband’s old flame found out I was pregnant, she set a fire, intending to burn me alive. I didn’t scream for help. Instead, I hoisted my mother-in-law, who had passed out from the smoke, onto my back and fought to survive. In my last life, I had screamed and cried in the inferno. My husband, Ethan, had rushed in and saved his mother and me first. But his old flame, Phoebe, desperate to one-up me, had charged back into the flames and burned to death. After she died, Ethan said she deserved it for starting the fire. He was endlessly gentle with me, soothing my frayed nerves. But the day our daughter was born, he took a framed photo of Phoebe from the mantelpiece and bludgeoned our newborn to death with it. “It’s all your fault!” he had roared, his face a mask of grief and madness. “You and this baby took her from me! Go to hell and atone for what you’ve done!” In my despair, I took him with me. And when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the fire. … “Debra, hang in there! I’ll get you out!” The familiar voice sent a chill down my spine. I had just opened my eyes when the warped, burning husk of the bedroom door crashed down, missing my face by inches. Terrified, I scrambled backward, pulling Ethan’s mother with me. “Mom, don’t open the window! It’ll fuel the fire!” I scanned the room, ripped a pillowcase from the bed, and soaked it with the last of a water bottle. I handed it to her, gesturing for her to cover her mouth and nose. Just then, the wail of sirens echoed from below. A flicker of hope crossed her face. “Don’t worry, Debra. Ethan’s here. He’ll save us.” She smiled, her eyes bright with relief. “We’re going to be okay.” I looked down, unable to meet her gaze. How could I tell this kind woman that her own son would one day murder her granddaughter for another woman? The heat in the room was becoming unbearable, the floor tiles searing hot beneath my feet. I had just helped his mother to a safer corner when Ethan’s voice boomed from outside. “Phoebe! Phoebe, are you in there?” he yelled, his voice tight with panic. “Don’t be scared, I’m coming to save you!” With a tremendous crash, the front door was forced open. I couldn’t see anything through the wall of red and orange flames, but I could hear Phoebe’s terrified sobs. “Ethan! I’m on the balcony! Help me, I’m so scared…” “Everyone with me!” Ethan commanded. “Forget searching anywhere else, she’s on the balcony! Move!” Hearing this, his mother clutched her chest, gasping for air. “That monster… my son, that monster… how could he…” Before she could finish, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed. Through the shimmering heat, I saw Ethan’s silhouette carrying Phoebe in his arms, turning his back on the flames, on us. The fire licked at everything around me, and as a single tear escaped my eye, it evaporated instantly on my cheek. This time, I swallowed the scream for help that rose in my throat. This time, Ethan, my debt is paid. As Ethan and his precious Phoebe disappeared, I secured the damp cloth over my own face and, after a few clumsy attempts, managed to haul his mother onto my back. The effort sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my abdomen. It took every ounce of my strength just to stand. I was carrying Ethan’s child in my womb and his mother on my back. And as I stood there, trapped in the inferno, I could hear their voices drifting from outside. “Phoebe, is anyone else in the house?” “No one, Ethan. Debra… she said she was pregnant and couldn’t be stressed. We argued, and… and she locked me in and set the fire, then she ran away…” “That goddamn bitch,” Ethan snarled. “When I find her, I’ll make her pay for this!” My legs buckled, and I nearly fell. A moment later, another voice cut in. “Chief, I think I heard someone talking in the bedroom.” It was Mike, one of his colleagues. “I have a bad feeling someone’s still in there. What if Debra…?” “Phoebe already told us what happened!” Ethan snapped. “Debra’s the one who started this! You think she’d stick around to die in her own trap? Everyone out! Phoebe’s weak, we need to get her to a hospital now!” The pain in my belly was so intense I nearly bit through my own teeth, a primal urge to escape screaming through me. But just as I took a step, my mother-in-law, revived by the choking smoke, stirred on my back. Her hands gripped my shoulders, holding me back as she started to scream. “Ethan, you little bastard! Your wife and your child are trapped in there! Who the hell are you taking to the hospital?” I froze, listening intently. But the footsteps were already fading. Ethan was gone. With a groan of tortured metal and wood, a flaming wardrobe crashed down, blocking our only way out. My hands trembled as I poured the last few drops of water onto a small towel and passed it to his mother. Tears streamed down her wrinkled face. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of sirens returned, just as loud as before. And then they faded into the distance. Ethan was gone, taking Phoebe with him. The fire raged, growing hotter, wilder. A cold despair settled in my heart. We weren’t going to make it out. His mother coughed a few more times, then fell silent on my back. The flames were starting to catch the hem of my clothes. Just as I was about to be consumed, a voice shouted from the doorway. “Ma’am! The security guards said they never saw you leave! Are you still in there?” Tears I didn’t know I had left streamed down my face as I choked out a reply. A moment later, a figure burst through the smoke, a fire extinguisher in his hands. My strength finally gave out, and I collapsed. When I opened my eyes again, I was on a stretcher outside our building. His mother was beside me. The man who had saved us was Mike, Ethan’s colleague. His face was black with soot, but when he saw my eyes open, he broke into a grin. “Ma’am, I knew I heard you in there. That Phoebe girl kept insisting the house was empty…” He didn’t finish. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. A wave of panic went through the crowd of onlookers as they scrambled to call for more ambulances. None of us were seriously injured, but Ethan’s mother had pre-existing conditions, and Mike had inhaled too much smoke. They were both still unconscious. When Ethan got the news, he rushed to the hospital. The moment he saw me, he shoved past a nurse and slapped me hard across the face. “You bitch! How could you be so cruel? Why did you try to kill Phoebe?” he roared. “You weren’t even home! Why did you go back into the fire? You almost got Mike killed too, you know that!” His voice was a torrent of fury. “I can’t believe I married a monster like you. If any of them die, you’re a murderer!” I had just survived a fire, my mind still reeling from the terror, and he had sent me sprawling to the floor. From behind him, Phoebe peeked out, her face a mask of false concern. “Debra, I know you hate me, but did you ever think about how many people you could have hurt?” She swayed, leaning weakly against Ethan’s shoulder, and began to cough violently. A fleck of blood appeared on her lips. Seeing it, Ethan spun around and, as I struggled to my feet, kicked me squarely in the stomach. I crumpled. “You venomous bitch! Why didn’t you burn to death in there!” he screamed, his eyes burning with a hatred I had never seen before. “I should have dragged Mike out of there and left you to die!” He stood over me, his face twisted in contempt. Phoebe, nestled safely in his arms, shot me a look of pure triumph. I had no strength left to argue. A warm, sticky wetness was spreading beneath me. The pain was blinding, and tears streamed from my eyes. My smoke-ravaged throat could only manage a few hoarse syllables. “Doctor… call a doctor…” Ethan saw my agony and a cruel, twisted smile spread across his face. “A doctor?” he sneered. “Did you think about whether they’d get a doctor if you’d killed them?” I stared up at him, a hollow ache spreading through my chest. Before Phoebe had reappeared in our lives, he had been so excited about this baby. He had already decorated the nursery. He had already chosen a name. Julian. He had said he would give the child his last name, and a middle name inspired by mine. A part of both of us, he’d called it, the greatest gift. But now, as he saw the blood pooling on the floor beneath me, he turned and covered Phoebe’s eyes. “Disgusting. Don’t look, baby. It might scare you.” The next time I woke up, I was in a different room. The nurse saw I was awake and slammed a vial of medicine into the trash bin with a clatter. “Well, look at you,” she said, her voice dripping with disgust. “Tough one, aren’t you? Ruined so many lives and all you lost was a baby. Lucky you.” My throat felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t make a sound, forced to endure her scorn in silence. Seeing me helpless, she threw the door open and called out to the hallway. “The suspect is awake! Get her out of here before she contaminates the whole hospital.” Her voice rose with righteous indignation. “She tried to kill the daughter of a fallen hero. How could someone so unlucky still be alive? Should have let her burn.” Two officers came in and hauled me to my feet without a word. Soon, I was face to face with Ethan. We sat across a cold, metal table. His face was dark, and he spoke as if my sentence had already been passed. “Debra. You are a venomous, cold-blooded snake. For attempted murder, you’re going to prison.” He paused, his jaw tight. “Given the… circumstances… I can request a suspended sentence. But you will do time for this.” He turned his head away, as if looking at me for a second longer would stain his own integrity. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but all that came out was a series of wracking coughs. Just then, Phoebe burst into the room, sobbing, and threw herself into Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, I had another nightmare,” she wailed. “I dreamt I was burning to death… I’m so scared…” The slight softening in Ethan’s expression vanished, replaced by cold fury. “Debra, I don’t know what a sweet girl like Phoebe could have possibly done to you,” he seethed. “Why do you hate her so much? Why do you have to keep hurting her?” “Her father died on a rescue call! She’s the daughter of a hero, and you… you…!” He couldn’t finish, his hands balling into fists as he slammed them on the table. Someone handed me a cup of warm water. I gulped it down, and finally found my voice, raw and raspy. “The arsonist wasn’t me. It was Phoebe.” My voice was quiet, but it filled the small room. “The person who should be in jail isn’t me. It’s her. And you, for dereliction of duty.” Ethan slammed the table again, leaping to his feet. He leaned over me, his eyes boring into mine. “Phoebe is pure and kind! How dare you slander her like this! She told me everything that happened. It was you! You started that fire over a stupid argument!” As if on cue, Phoebe began to sob harder. “Ethan, she’s trying to frame me again. I’m so scared. I just wanted to be like a little sister to you… is that so wrong? Debra, do you really have to kill me to be happy?” She lunged towards me, grabbing my arm and shaking it violently. I recoiled in disgust, pulling my arm away. Phoebe immediately shrieked and threw herself backward. “Ethan, save me! She pushed me!” Ethan caught her, sweeping her into his arms. With his other hand, he grabbed me and threw me to the floor. “Debra! You dare assault her right in front of me? Do you have any conscience at all?” he roared. “If it weren’t for the law protecting pregnant women, I’d throw you in a cell right now and let you rot!” I looked up at his enraged face. His features were so familiar, so much like the man who had once promised me the world. But now, I held no illusions. Last life, Phoebe killed herself, and he blamed me. This life, Phoebe was alive and well, and he still blamed me. What was the point of a marriage like this? I opened my mouth, my voice devoid of all emotion. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce. If you want to prosecute me, go ahead.” I met his furious gaze. “The baby’s gone now. Let’s see if you can put me behind bars.” Ethan’s brow furrowed, his voice sharp with confusion and accusation. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, the baby’s gone?”

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On my twenty-fifth birthday, my father delivered his ultimatum: “Come back and get married, or I’m freezing all your accounts.” And so, I was forced to return home to fulfill an arranged marriage to a woman I’d never met. The day my plane landed, I swung by the Porsche dealership to pick up my father’s welcome-home gift—a silver 911. Just as I was about to sign the papers, a man in a bespoke suit shoved me aside and slapped a black card on the sales manager’s desk. “I’m taking this car.” I tried to explain politely. “Excuse me, sir, but this car is already reserved for me.” He just arched an eyebrow and shot me a dismissive glance. “Amazing what some people will do for a little attention. You really think a knockoff designer jacket gives you the right to spout this kind of nonsense?” He puffed out his chest. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m the future son-in-law of the Cohen Corporation!” Just then, the sales manager’s phone rang. After a brief, hushed conversation, he immediately plucked the keys from my hand and presented them to the other man with a bow. “Mr. Julius,” the manager stammered, “Miss Ford was very clear. No one else is to take this car today.” I froze. The son-in-law of the Ford-Cohen merger? Wasn’t that supposed to be me? … 1 The sales manager, Mr. Wallace, looked back and forth between us, his eyes finally settling on me. “Sir,” he said nervously, “until your identity is confirmed, I can’t let you sign anything.” He snatched the contract back, clutching it protectively to his chest. The man in the suit let out a sneering laugh and tugged on the sleeve of my faux-leather jacket. “You show up in a cheap knockoff and expect us to believe you’re some kind of heir? Have you ever even felt real leather?” I frowned and took a step back. “I’m a member of an environmental conservation group. I don’t use animal products.” “Ha!” He laughed, loud and obnoxious. “Just say you’re broke. No need to put on airs.” He turned to the manager. “Wallace, you have to be careful these days. Scammers are getting bold, targeting high-end places like this.” I took a deep breath. “This is vegan leather. It’s a new sustainable material developed in Italy. It looks like leather, but it’s made from plant fibers.” He clicked his tongue dramatically. “Wow, the stories you phonies come up with get more detailed every day. Wallace, you should probably look up this ‘plant fiber’ nonsense and see if it even exists.” I could feel a hot knot of anger tightening in my chest. This guy was unbelievable. “For the past three years, I’ve been running conservation projects abroad,” I said, my voice tight. “This car was a gift from my father to welcome me home.” My hand was trembling slightly as I opened my phone’s photo gallery and swiped to a picture of me in a rainforest. In the photo, I was sorting recycled plastic bottles with local children, a vast mangrove forest in the background. He just rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. The sob stories just keep getting better. It’s a nice touch, pretending to be some kind of saint.” He scoffed. “Anyone can find a picture of themselves volunteering. I’ve got a selfie with a refugee in my phone. Does that make me a UN ambassador?” My fingers tightened around my phone. I was losing my patience. I opened my chat history and played a voice message. My father’s warm, doting voice filled the showroom. “Son, I’ve ordered a silver Porsche for you. A celebration for your return…” I looked at Mr. Wallace. “Is that enough proof for you?” He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “That… that is indeed Mr. Cohen’s voice.” “Hah!” The other man sneered, slamming his hand down on the contract before Wallace could grab it. “Anyone can edit an audio clip. You call that evidence? With AI voice-cloning technology, you can fake anyone’s voice perfectly. It proves nothing!” Wallace hesitated again, his hand frozen in mid-air. The man, who I now knew as Julius, wagged a finger in my face. “You want proof? I’ll give you proof.” He pulled a photograph from his wallet and slapped it down on the hood of the Porsche. “Take a look at this. Last week’s charity gala. I was standing right next to Chairman Cohen.” In the photo, he was standing cozily next to my father, who was actually smiling. My heart sank. The sight of that smile stung. I’d been away for five years, dedicating my life to my work. I didn’t have any recent photos with my dad. But why did he? Could it be? Was he my father’s illegitimate son? 2 “Impossible…” I muttered. “What’s impossible?” he shot back, his chin held high in triumph. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Julius Cohen. The one and only heir to the Cohen Corporation.” My blood ran cold. Julius Cohen? My name is Julian Cohen. My head snapped up. “You’re lying! I’m the heir to the Cohen Corporation!” “Are you? Then prove it,” he challenged with a smirk. I was stumped. In that moment, I honestly didn’t know how I could prove who I was. Mr. Wallace was clearly swayed. He turned to Julius with an apologetic smile. “Mr. Cohen, my apologies for this misunderstanding. Let me get the paperwork started for you…” “Wait!” I scrambled, pulling my passport from my bag. “This is my passport! It has all my information!” Julius snatched it from me, gave it a contemptuous glance, and threw it on the floor. “Nicely forged. Looks almost real.” He ground the cover under his heel. “Wallace, when did your dealership’s standards get so low? Are you letting any stray dog wander in off the street now?” Wallace’s face paled. He immediately spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Security! Security to the main showroom!” Two large men in security uniforms rushed in and grabbed my arms. “Let me go!” I struggled. “Do you know who I am?” “Just a con artist,” Julius sneered. A guard shoved me hard. I stumbled, and my knee slammed into the hard marble floor. A blinding flash of pain shot through me. Before I could recover, Julius stuck his foot out and tripped me. I pitched forward, my palms scraping against the ground, leaving bloody streaks on the polished surface. “You can’t do this to me!” I hissed through the pain, my hands shaking as I fumbled to pull a chain from around my neck. “This was a gift from my father for my eighteenth birthday! It has my name and birthdate engraved on it…” Julius ripped the necklace from my hand, glanced at it, and burst out laughing. “You really think this twenty-dollar piece of junk from a street vendor is going to prove anything?” He tossed it across the room. “Security, get this lunatic out of here!” They started dragging me out like a sack of potatoes. My shin crashed hard against the doorframe. As a fresh wave of pain shot up my leg, a thought struck me. “Wait!” I yelled, craning my neck. “I can prove it! I’ll call my dad!” Fighting against their grip, I managed to get my phone out and shakily dialed my father’s private number. The long, drawn-out ringing echoed in the silent showroom before finally switching to a cold, impersonal voicemail. “Nice performance,” Julius said, flicking a silver lighter open and shut, a mocking smile on his face. “Want to try calling the Secretary-General of the United Nations next?” My knuckles were white as I gripped my phone. “There’s one more person who can prove who I am! I’m calling my fiancée!” Julius’s expression froze. “Fiancée?” he repeated, his eyes narrowing. “That’s right! Vivian Ford!” I quickly found the contact I had added just yesterday, my thumb hovering over the call button. Suddenly, Julius’s face twisted into a mask of rage. He lunged at me, shoving me violently. The phone flew from my grasp as he slapped it out of my hand. It hit the marble floor with a sickening crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of glass. “You shameless piece of trash!” He backhanded me across the face. The signet ring on his finger sliced open my cheek. My ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my head up. “Open your pathetic eyes and look closely!” “I am Vivian Ford’s fiancé!” 3 He pulled a necklace from under his collar. The locket opened to reveal a photo of him and Vivian. In the picture, she was leaning against him tenderly, both of them smiling at each other. “No…” I shook my head in disbelief. Julius’s lips curled into a smirk. He dialed a number, putting it on speaker for everyone to hear. A soft, feminine voice answered. “Hello…? Julius, what’s wrong?” His tone immediately shifted, becoming warm and gentle. “Nothing, darling. I just miss you.” “Did you get the car?” she asked, a smile in her voice. “I’ve booked a table to celebrate. I’ll come pick you up after work.” Murmurs of envy rippled through the staff. “Mr. Cohen is so lucky…” “I’ve never heard Miss Ford sound so gentle. She’s known as the Ice Queen of the business world…” Julius’s smile widened. “Sounds wonderful, my love. I’ll be waiting—” The moment he hung up, he shot me a triumphant look. “You all heard that? I’m Vivian Ford’s rightful fiancé! And this imposter,” he gestured at me, “doesn’t even have her private number, yet he dares to impersonate the Cohen family heir!” Mr. Wallace’s face went white. “Security! Get this fraud out of here now!” The guards closed in again. “Listen up, everyone!” Julius shouted. “Today, I’m going to teach this shameless degenerate a lesson he’ll never forget! The first person who helps me strip the clothes off him gets this three-hundred-thousand-dollar Cartier ring!” The showroom erupted. It wasn’t just the guards whose eyes lit up with greed; even a few of the male sales associates started rolling up their sleeves. One of the guards, a man with a brutish face, licked his lips and cracked his knuckles. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Cohen. We’ll make him pay for upsetting you.” “You messed with the wrong guy,” another snarled. I backed away instinctively until my back was pressed against a cold glass display case. The circle of men tightened around me, and my heart hammered against my ribs. Julius stood behind them, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he casually tossed the glittering ring in the air. My only hope was to get home. The staff, the butler—anyone there could identify me. I glanced towards the emergency exit. Just as I was about to make a break for it, Julius barked, “He’s trying to run! Get him!” A guard lunged, grabbing my wrist. I twisted away, and my watch was ripped from my arm, clattering to the floor. As I stumbled, Julius tripped me again. My already injured knee slammed into the marble, and my vision went black for a second from the sheer agony. “Let go of me!” I thrashed wildly, but two guards pinned my arms behind my back. My fingernails bent and broke, blood welling at the tips. Someone grabbed my jacket and tore it open, the sound of popping buttons exploding in my ears. “Keep going! Strip him down!” Julius’s excited voice echoed from across the room. Dozens of rough hands clawed at my shirt, the sound of ripping fabric sending a tremor of pure terror through me. Suddenly, a figure loomed over me. Julius crouched down, his fingers digging into my chin, forcing me to look at him. He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “I know you’re the real Julian. But once you’re dead, I can be the real me.” Horror shot through me. Before I could process his words, his hand moved. A flash of cold steel—a sharp folding knife was heading straight for my throat. “Stop!” 4 A cold, authoritative female voice cut through the chaos. I looked up and saw Vivian Ford’s silhouette standing against the light of the entrance. A surge of hope coursed through me. “Vivian! Sav—” My cry was cut short. With lightning speed, Julius slipped the knife into my pocket. In the next instant, he stumbled backward, crashing into Vivian’s arms with a look of pure terror. “Vivian! You’re finally here! This lunatic… he tried to kill me! He has a knife in his pocket!” Vivian’s gaze fell on my bruised and battered body. Her red lips parted, and she uttered a single word that sent me plunging into an icy abyss. “Police.” “Vivian, are you insane?” I screamed, struggling against my captors. “I’m your fiancé, Julian Cohen! That five-billion-dollar real estate project on the west side—you were just talking to my father about the partnership last week!” My voice was raw. “You’re going to throw all that away for this imposter?” Vivian let out a cold laugh. “You’re my fiancé? You can’t even come up with a believable lie.” She gave me a look of utter contempt and then, in front of everyone, leaned in and kissed Julius on the lips. “Look closely,” she announced. “This is my fiancé, Julius Cohen.” My blood turned to ice. How could she not recognize me? We were about to be married. Julius smirked, his fingers caressing her waist. “Vivian…” Her cool expression softened instantly. “Are you scared?” I was still on my knees, the blood from my leg staining the marble a dark crimson. As Vivian’s gaze swept over me, a flicker of disgust crossed her face. “Vivian…” I whispered, my voice trembling. She didn’t even grant me a glance, instead gently tilting Julius’s chin up. “Are you hurt?” Julius seized the opportunity, burying his face in her shoulder and shooting me a victorious look. “My hand hurts… he scratched me when he was fighting back…” Vivian immediately took his hand, carefully blowing on a scratch that wasn’t even there. “Oh, by the way, Julius,” she said, as if just remembering. “Someone else pretending to be you added me on social media yesterday.” She shook her head with a sigh. “I accidentally accepted, but I deleted him right away. You’re not jealous, are you?” My eyes widened in shock. She really thought I was the fake. Julius’s expression faltered for a second before he broke into a smile and pecked her on the cheek. “Vivian, of course I trust you.” He shot a pointed look in my direction. “It’s just a shame what some pretty boys will do to climb the social ladder.” “Vivian…” he whined, tugging on her sleeve. “You have to stand up for me this time!” Her eyes hardened. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone who bullies you get away with it.” A vicious smile spread across Julius’s face. “I have an idea! Since he’s so desperate for a sponsor, why don’t we…” He whispered something in her ear. Vivian actually laughed. “Whatever you want, Julius.” With a casual wave of her hand, four men in black suits stepped forward. They were professionals. Before I could react, they had me lifted off the ground. Vivian adjusted her cuffs, her voice bored. “Strip him and dump him in the red-light district.” All the color drained from my face. That was the most dangerous part of the city, filled with addicts and vagrants. No one in their right mind ever went there. It was a death sentence. “No! You can’t do this!” I thrashed wildly. “I really am the heir! When my father finds out, he’ll make you wish you were never born!” Vivian and Julius just looked at each other and laughed. The bodyguards began tearing at what little was left of my clothes. I closed my eyes in despair— And then, a powerful, furious voice boomed from the entrance. “Stop this at once!” Everyone froze. A figure leaning on an ebony cane strode through the door. “Let him go!” 5 Through the tangled mess of my hair, I recognized his face. It was Arthur, the Cohen family’s longtime butler. But with my face obscured, he didn’t recognize me at first. “What is the meaning of this?” Arthur demanded, his brow furrowed in displeasure. I tried to call out to him, but a guard clamped a hand over my mouth. Julius quickly moved to block me from view, his face plastered with a sycophantic smile. “Arthur! What a surprise to see you here.” A jolt went through me. How did he know Arthur? Who was this guy? Arthur seemed surprised, too. “What are you doing here?” “Dad sent me to pick up the car,” Julius said without batting an eye. Arthur nodded. My heart sank. Dad? Since when did my father have another son? I struggled, trying to get Arthur’s attention, but Julius subtly shifted, completely hiding me from his view. “Don’t worry about him, Arthur,” Julius said smoothly. “Just some con artist trying to impersonate me to get the car. Luckily, Miss Ford was here to vouch for me and teach him a lesson.” Arthur nodded and gave a slight bow to Vivian, who returned the gesture politely. But his eyes were scanning the room, clearly looking for someone. He wasn’t paying much attention to them. “By the way,” Arthur said, turning back to Julius. “Have you seen a young man about your age? He was supposed to be here to pick up a silver Porsche.” The showroom fell silent. Everyone’s expression changed, except for Julius. “No, I haven’t,” he said, blinking innocently. “Why, Arthur?” Arthur sighed. “No matter. He’s probably just delayed. I’ll go check the airport.” He started to turn away. Panic seized me. If Arthur left, I was done for. I threw my head back, slamming it into the nose of the guard behind me. He cried out in pain, and the sound made Arthur stop. “What was that?” he asked. Julius instantly stepped in front of him, a sweet smile on his face. “It’s nothing, Arthur, really. The fraud is just getting restless, trying to escape.” Arthur looked in my direction, his eyes filled with suspicion. I shook my head desperately, but the guards held me fast. After a moment, he leaned in and spoke to Julius in a low voice. “If he’s an imposter, deal with him cleanly. We don’t want any gossip attached to the Cohen family name.” “You can count on me,” Julius chirped, but behind his back, he made a sharp gesture to the guards. “I’ll make sure he never dares to impersonate a Cohen again.” As Arthur turned to leave, my vision blurred with desperate tears. In a final, desperate move, I threw all my weight backward again, smashing my head into the guard’s face. As his grip loosened, I lunged toward a nearby display case. There was a deafening crash. The entire glass cabinet toppled over, showering the floor in a cascade of glittering shards. The noise made Arthur whip around. I finally had my chance. “Arthur! It’s me!” I screamed. The hair fell away from my face, revealing my blood-streaked features. Arthur’s weary eyes went wide. His cane clattered to the floor. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “Young… Young Master?” He stumbled towards me, but Julius blocked his path. I saw Julius make a quick, brutal throat-slitting motion to the guards behind his back. A chill of pure terror shot down my spine. “Arthur, you’re mistaken,” Julius said, his voice tight. “This is just a…”

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The rising starlet, Monica Reed, was rushed to the hospital after a car crash. The man carrying her, his face etched with panic, was my husband, Ted. Her uterus was severely damaged. She was at risk of becoming infertile, or worse, bleeding to death on the operating table. And she was demanding that I, Dr. Evelyn Hayes, perform her surgery. She’d rather die in agony, she claimed, than let anyone else touch her. In my past life, I knew she and Ted were having an affair, but I still upheld my oath as a doctor and took the case. The surgery was a success. But afterward, she complained of excruciating abdominal pain and launched a smear campaign against me online, accusing me of professional negligence. I lost my job. I was disowned by my family. In the end, crushed by depression, I slit my wrists. And she? She built her new life on the ashes of mine, stepping out publicly with my husband. Reborn, I looked at the woman before me, then gestured to the operating room where another patient was already prepped. “That surgery is just as critical. I’m afraid you’ll have to find another surgeon.” Her procedure was incredibly high-risk. Now, her only options were to transfer to another hospital or stay here and wait to die. 01. “Doctors! Someone, please, help her!” My husband, Ted, burst into the ER, cradling a blood-soaked Monica Reed. He was frantic. To any stranger, he looked like a man terrified of losing his wife. But I was his wife. Dr. Evelyn Hayes, protégé of the legendary Dr. Albright, the most renowned gynecological surgeon this hospital had ever seen. My mentor had retired last month, which meant that when it came to this kind of surgery, I was now the top authority here. Ted had picked me up from work enough times for my colleagues to recognize him. So, the moment they arrived, a sympathetic coworker discreetly sent me a video from the ER entrance. Her text followed: “She’s holding his hand, calling him ‘honey,’ begging him to save her. You’d better brace yourself, Evelyn.” Even though I’d lived through this nightmare once before, the kindness in her warning still made my eyes sting. In my last life, when Monica accused me of sabotaging her surgery out of spite, these same colleagues had defended me. But the online mob was too vicious, their troll farms too powerful. Their support was drowned out in a sea of hate. I quickly typed back, “Thanks for the heads-up.” Her next message was panicked. “Oh god, it’s bad. Looks like they’re transferring her to your department. If it’s GYN, they’ll assign her to you. They’re getting on the elevator now. You should probably make yourself scarce!” She was worried I’d snap if I came face-to-face with the two of them—that I’d do something reckless and jeopardize my upcoming promotion. I frowned, my heart turning to ice. The elevator doors slid open. There she was, Monica Reed, on a gurney, with my distraught husband hovering beside her. The moment Ted’s eyes met mine, he flinched and looked away, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But Monica, lying on the stretcher, suddenly pushed herself up. Ignoring the team of doctors and nurses rushing toward her, her gaze locked onto me. She pointed a trembling, blood-stained finger. “I’ve heard she’s Dr. Albright’s prodigy,” she announced, her voice weak but imperious. “I want her. I won’t let anyone else operate on me.” 02. News of Monica Reed’s accident had already exploded online. Someone had filmed the ambulance arriving at Metropolitan Grace Hospital and the video was going viral. The entire internet was watching this surgery. The hospital’s reputation was on the line. The Vice President of the hospital, Mr. Davies, hurried over. Hearing Monica’s demand, his eyes darted to me. “Evelyn! Since Miss Reed has such faith in you, I think it’s best you handle this personally.” In my past life, I was on the cusp of being promoted to Chief Resident. If it hadn’t been for Monica’s slander, that title would have been mine. And Mr. Davies had played his part in my downfall. He’d wanted the promotion to go to my department rival, Dr. Nina Torres, so he’d deliberately “lost” the security footage from the operating room that day, leaving me with no way to prove my innocence. He was pushing the surgery on me now for the same reason. He knew how dangerous it was. If I refused, and Monica didn’t agree to a transfer, the procedure would fall to Nina. But Nina was clumsy, prone to small but dangerous mistakes under pressure. Davies was afraid she’d botch a high-profile case like this and create a PR disaster. So, he wanted to toss this hot potato to me. Too bad for him, I wasn’t playing his game this time. I gestured to the adjacent OR. “I have a surgery scheduled for 10:30. The patient is being prepped right now for an emergency ectopic pregnancy. She’s in critical condition. I can’t be in two places at once. You’ll have to find someone else. I recommend an immediate transfer.” In my previous life, I was forced to take Monica’s case. The woman with the ectopic pregnancy had collapsed in the lobby and was discovered too late. Nina had to take her surgery, and the patient bled out on the table. She was only twenty-five, a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her. Her husband, I heard, was in the military. By the time he arrived, her body was already in the morgue. The memory was a scar on my soul. This time, the first thing I did after being reborn was find that woman in the lobby an hour ago and arrange for her immediate admission and surgery. I knew I could save her. And I wanted to. Saving an innocent life was infinitely better than saving a viper like Monica Reed. Monica, hearing my refusal, writhed on the gurney, clutching her stomach. “No!” she shrieked at me. “Find another doctor for her. I want you. You’re doing my surgery, right now!” She knew my skills were her best chance at a full recovery. She coveted my husband, but she also coveted my talent. She was banking on the fact that I would never risk my entire career by intentionally harming her on the operating table. All those years of hard work—I wouldn’t just throw them away. A cold smirk touched my lips. “And why should I? Your life is a life, but hers isn’t? The ectopic pregnancy patient is showing signs of massive internal bleeding. If your tantrum delays her surgery and something happens to her, are you prepared to take responsibility for her death?” 03. If Monica had an ounce of sense, she’d know what to do. Transfer immediately. Or have Ted use his money to fly in a team of specialists. That was always an option. But she was arrogant, banking on her youth and fame, and determined to break me. “What do I care about her surgery? You just don’t want to operate on me. You’re just jealous because your husband loves me!” And just like that, she’d detonated the affair in the middle of the hospital corridor. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. The audacity of this woman was breathtaking. Monica didn’t care. This was her chance to dethrone me, to become the one and only Mrs. Vance. Ignoring the looks of disgust and shock, she pressed her attack. “Aren’t doctors supposed to be professional? To separate their personal feelings from their duties? Right now, I am a patient. You can’t refuse me. If you do, you’re no better than a murderer.” A murderer? Was she serious? She wanted to use my own ethics against me? I almost laughed. I pulled on my surgical mask and turned to leave. “I have to prep. I don’t have time for this melodrama. Get her transferred. If you hurry, you might still make it.” Seeing that her tactics weren’t working on me, Monica’s face crumpled. She looked at Ted, her eyes brimming with tears. “Honey, it hurts so much… I’m dying. Please, just ask her. I only want her to do the surgery.” When Ted met my gaze, he looked away, shame and guilt warring on his face. He never expected this—to be caught not just with his mistress, but with his mistress demanding his wife perform her life-or-death surgery. But then his thoughts turned to our five years of marriage. Five years, and no children. He’d always blamed me. Monica had promised him a family, promised him an heir. He couldn’t let her lose her womb, not when it meant the end of the Vance family line. Steeling himself, he looked at me, his voice sharp with impatience. “This has gone far enough, Evelyn. I know you’re angry about the affair, but Monica is hurt. Your first duty as a doctor is to save lives. If you let her die, I swear to God, I will divorce you.” A bitter laugh caught in my throat. This was the man I had loved for five years? In this critical moment, he stood with her, letting her humiliate me. But I wasn’t afraid anymore. Our home, our marriage… I could let it all burn. I had died once already. Did he really think I would let a man who betrayed me dictate my choices now? Without turning back, I tossed over my shoulder, “Then divorce it is. I hope you and your whore are very happy together.” Ted was stunned. He was used to the gentle, accommodating wife who catered to his every need. He never imagined I had this fire in me. He, Ted Vance, scion of the Vance family, was being publicly shamed. My back was already to him as I walked away. He knew he couldn’t drag me out of the hospital to confront me during work hours. All he could do was hiss in impotent fury, “Fine! You’ll regret this, Evelyn!” I ignored him, pushing through the doors into the sterile prep room, immersing myself in my work. As the heavy steel door swung shut behind me, it sealed off the chaos. In that moment, nothing else mattered. I was a surgeon. My only focus was my patient and getting her off my operating table alive. Outside that door, in the hospital corridor, the drama continued. Monica was still hysterical. “I don’t care! I want her! If she doesn’t do my surgery, I’ll die right here, in your hospital!” Ted tried to reason with her. “Monica, she’s already in another operation. It could be hours before she’s out. Your body can’t wait that long. Let me get you transferred. St. Catherine’s is only three miles away; they’re one of the best public hospitals in the city. They’ll take care of you.” If Monica hadn’t insisted the ambulance bring her here, she would have been taken to a top-tier trauma center much closer to the crash site, not this high-end private facility. Mr. Davies was also panicking, terrified that Monica’s stubbornness would lead to her death on his watch, creating a media firestorm. He chimed in, “He’s right, Miss Reed. Dr. Albright is retired, and our other senior surgeon is on vacation. Besides Dr. Hayes, the only other person available is Dr. Torres, and she’s… less experienced. For your own safety, I strongly advise a transfer.” But Monica wasn’t listening. All she could see was the title of Mrs. Vance, glimmering just within her reach. “How long will her surgery take?” she demanded. “I’ll wait.” Seeing her resolve, Davies had no choice. He had a nurse move her to an inpatient room to run a full diagnostic panel, while another was sent to ask the scrub nurse in my OR for an estimated time. The answer came back quickly: “Best case, an hour or two. Worst case, could be seven or eight.” If Monica had listened then, she could have saved her uterus. But she was resolute. “I’m waiting. Schedule me as her next surgery. Get me prepped.” With a face as white as the hospital sheets, Monica allowed the nurses to start the pre-operative procedures. Davies and Ted were ushered out of the room. Terrified, Ted called his assistant. “Get me the best surgeons from every hospital nearby. I don’t care what it costs, get them over here now!” Monica overheard him from inside the room and shrieked, “No! I want Evelyn! Don’t you dare call anyone else, or we are through!” Ted had no choice but to cancel the call. And so, Monica waited. Pale, breathing from an oxygen mask, she even found the energy to record a short video for her fans, playing the victim. Half an hour later, a pool of dark red blood suddenly blossomed on the white sheets beneath her. 04. Five hours later, the surgery was over. Staring at the successfully closed incision, I handed the hemostats to my assistant, my forehead slick with sweat. “The rest is up to you.” I stumbled back, leaning against the cool wall of the operating room for support. My legs felt like jelly; my whole body was trembling from the prolonged concentration and stress. I started to slide down the wall, utterly spent. A nurse rushed to my side. “Dr. Hayes, are you okay?” Wiping the sweat from my brow, I nodded. Just like in my last life, the patient had started to hemorrhage midway through the procedure. But this time, I was prepared. I fought back and won, saving her life. We had to remove one of her fallopian tubes, and the blood loss was significant, but with proper recovery, she would still have a chance to conceive one day. As I walked out of the OR into the long, quiet corridor, I felt a wave of exhaustion. All the other surgical suites were closed and silent, but for a split second, I thought I heard Monica’s voice, crying out in pain. It was probably just a hallucination, my mind playing tricks on me after the stress of the day.

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