It was the middle of the night, and I was mainlining a romance webcomic, the kind that gets your face hot and your heart racing. I was right at the good part when I saw the author’s note: on indefinite hiatus. My world stopped. In a fit of desperation, I slid into the author’s DMs. “Doodlebug, Doodlebug,” I typed, “please, just a few more crumbs. A little chicken feed for your loyal flock.” The author, to my shock, replied. He sounded miserable. “I’m sorry. The comic is inspired by my wife.” “But she’s been so cold to me lately,” he continued. “She keeps bringing up another man’s name, putting me in my place. I’m terrified she’s going to leave me. I feel like dying. I can’t even pick up my stylus.” To save my favorite fictional couple, I decided to become a real-life hero. “That’s where you’re wrong,” I wrote back, channeling every ounce of confidence I didn’t have. “I’m actually a gold-medal relationship counselor. I specialize in this stuff. Give me your number, and I’ll talk you off the ledge. I’ve got a few tricks that might save your marriage.” He was so grateful, he sent his number immediately. I typed it into my phone to add him as a contact. And then I saw the profile picture. A fluffy white Samoyed. Oh, God. This was the same number as the arrogant, distant man I’d made a pact with after our sham wedding: we would be husband and wife on paper only. No interference, no intimacy, complete and total distance. Turns out, I was the cold, heartless wife. The problem was, I was just honoring our agreement. But for the sake of the story, for the love of the comic… I knocked on the door to his bedroom across the hall that night. “It’s suddenly so cold in here,” I said, my voice a carefully crafted tremor. “Could you… could you come warm up my bed?” The man, who was a master of composure, froze. Then, the tips of his ears bloomed into a fascinating shade of crimson. 1 I got home late from work. The apartment smelled incredible. As I shut the door, I saw Owen with his back to me, untying the strings of an apron. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. He had a certain domestic charm. I glanced away, clutching my purse tighter as I headed for my bedroom. The food might look delicious, but none of it was for me. That was the deal. Our pre-nup, scribbled on a cocktail napkin, was simple: we don’t bother each other. We keep our distance. We live our own lives under the same roof. I’d only taken a few steps when he cleared his throat. “You’ve been getting back late,” he said from the living room. “Have you eaten?” I paused, turning my head to offer a polite smile. “Just deadlines, you know how it is. Haven’t eaten yet, was just going to order something. Am I disturbing you coming in this late?” “Not at all.” Between the endless overtime and the soul-crushing news about my favorite webcomic, I was running on fumes. The last thing I had energy for was small talk with my emotionally unavailable husband-in-name-only. I flashed another fake smile and was about to make my escape when he spoke again. “Well… since you’re here… I made a little too much. If you want to eat together, so it doesn’t go to waste.” I raised an eyebrow, surprised. He immediately became flustered. “Don’t get the wrong idea. It was a mistake. I just made too much.” “I know, I know,” I said, softening. “We’re not a real couple. My feelings won’t get all tangled up in a free meal.” There were four or five dishes on the table, including my absolute favorite, pan-seared salmon with asparagus. Since he’d offered, I wasn’t about to say no. The moment I sat down, a pair of long, pale hands reached across the table. My eyes followed the arm up to a pair of stunning, almond-shaped eyes. “Um, let me get you some soup,” he murmured. “Oh. Thanks. That’s nice of you.” In three months of marriage, I think this was the first time we’d ever shared a table. And damn, the man could cook. I kept my head down, pushing rice around my bowl, my mind drifting back to the day I’d asked him to marry me. The memory still made me cringe. Six months ago, my family had tried to set me up with a guy from my hometown—short, round, and offering a twenty-thousand-dollar “bride price.” They were relentlessly pressuring me to quit my job and move back. I was terrified. Then, one day, I overheard my boss consoling a friend on the phone about the exact same family pressure. I took a wild leap of faith and asked my boss for his friend’s number. When I first met Owen, my face went hot. I hadn’t expected him to be so handsome. He was six-foot-one, with a ridiculously perfect nose, and his skin seemed to glow under the cafe lights. He gave me a cool, indifferent once-over that made me shrink in my seat. Owen was the one who laid out the rules. We only had to pretend for our parents. He was a logical, busy software engineer who had zero interest in marriage, and under no circumstances was I to interfere in his personal life. Later, when my lease was up, he even took pity on me and let me move into his spare bedroom, rent-free. For the first month, I tried to show my gratitude. I’d find little ways to talk to him, to be helpful. But Owen misinterpreted my kindness as a pathetic attempt at seduction. He’d frown every time he saw me. Finally, he confronted me. “Chloe,” he’d said, his voice flat. “If you cross this boundary again, we’ll have to terminate the agreement.” I was so mortified I could only stammer apologies. “Okay, Mr. Hayes. Got it. I’ll never speak to you again.” 2 So, I ate this meal with the utmost care, trying not to make a single sound. Halfway through, my phone rang. I rushed to the balcony to take the call. It was my new boss, Rick, hounding me about a project deadline. When I returned to the table, my mood had soured completely. The thought that my one escape, my beloved webcomic, was gone for good suddenly felt like the final straw. This life was pointless. In an instant, my nose burned, and my throat felt like I’d swallowed battery acid. To my absolute horror, a choked sob escaped my lips, right there in front of Owen. “Chloe? What’s wrong?” My breakdown startled him. He shot up from his chair, moved to the seat next to mine, and handed me a tissue. I hiccuped, rubbing my red-rimmed eyes. “Can I… can I talk to you about it?” I asked in a small voice. “Or will I be annoying you?” “Of course not. Tell me.” Owen seemed to remember his previous warning to me. He had the decency to look embarrassed, his gaze dropping to his hands as he fiddled with his fingers. Given the green light, I took a deep breath. “It’s that bastard at work, Rick Bowers!” “Do you have any idea what a creep he is? He calls me into his office all day for no reason, and then he doesn’t even leave me alone at night. I’m home, and he’s still calling me.” “The first thing I do when I wake up is send him a status report.” “I swear, I told him he should spend more time with his wife and kids, that he’s too obsessed with work. But he just said he’s single.” The tears were flowing freely now, and I didn’t notice the storm cloud gathering on Owen’s face. “Is he young?” he asked, a strangely random question. I wiped my eyes, nodding vaguely. “Yeah, not even thirty.” “Younger than me?” I froze, the sob caught in my throat. I had no idea how to answer that. I didn’t actually know how old Owen was. When we were signing the marriage license, I’d forgotten to look. But based on looks alone, Owen was definitely the younger, fresher model. Seeing my hesitation, he prompted me. “I’m twenty-six and a half.” “Oh, then Rick’s older. He just turned twenty-nine,” I blurted out. The gossip from yesterday’s team lunch was still fresh in my mind. Owen said nothing, just watched me. The silence in the room suddenly felt thick and awkward. “No, I didn’t mean you’re old!” I backpedaled frantically. “I meant he’s old. And a pain in the ass. My boss is a high-maintenance old man. You’re young! Really young. Haha.” My attempt at damage control was a complete failure. His eyes fell, and a familiar coolness returned to his voice, the same tone he’d used when we first met. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” “Leave the dishes. I’ll get them in the morning. Goodnight.” It was barely past eight o’clock. It was obvious my clumsy words had offended him. “Oh. Okay. Goodnight,” I mumbled. My god, my social skills were atrocious. I’d killed the conversation completely. 3 Back in my room, I opened my chat with Owen. I hesitated for a long time, wanting to praise his cooking, to thank him again. But every sentence I typed felt awkward, so I deleted it all. Whatever. We were business partners, not husband and wife. It was better to keep things simple, to keep our distance. I thought I’d fall asleep instantly after such a draining day, but habit pulled me back to the webcomic app. It had been three days since the last update. There were no new chapters, so I just started over from the beginning. Rereading it only made me love it more. The male lead in this comic was a master of subtle seduction, a sly, lovesick puppy who used every trick in the book to charm the heroine. But she was hopelessly oblivious, completely unaware of his feelings for her. The last chapter had ended on a cliffhanger, right as he was about to coax a confession out of her. At one in the morning, I was back in the comments section, wailing with the other heartbroken fans. The feed was a waterfall of “I can’t die peacefully like this.” After spamming the comments, I clicked on the author’s profile and went back to his DMs. “Doodlebug, Doodlebug, please, just a few more crumbs. A little chicken feed for your loyal flock.” “Doodlebug, I’ll give you half my salary, just come back! Can we ever meet again, Doodlebug?” “Doodlebug, don’t you leave me!” In the middle of my digital meltdown, a new message popped up. “I’m sorry. For personal reasons, I really can’t write anymore.” I gasped. I couldn’t believe the author was online at three in the morning. “OMG, you’re awake!” “What’s wrong? What’s going on? Tell me everything. What’s blocking your creative genius?” Five minutes later, he poured his heart out. “To be honest, the comic is inspired by my wife. But lately, she’s become so cold. Not only that, she keeps talking about another man. It’s agony. You probably can’t understand.” “The pain makes it impossible for me to draw. Every time I look at this story, I feel like I’m kidding myself. My wife doesn’t love me. Maybe… maybe she never even liked me at all.” Reading his message felt like stumbling upon the juiciest gossip of the century. My God. Talk about a tortured artist. The author of this incredibly sweet, romantic comic was a man? And apparently… a deeply devoted, lovesick puppy himself? It was true what they said: art imitates life. My brain kicked into high gear. This was no time for gossip. I had to figure out how to comfort this man, who sounded like he was about to be abandoned by his wife, and get him back to the drawing board. My fingers trembled as I typed. Think, Chloe, think! You have to get him to keep drawing. Your spiritual nourishment depends on it! And then it hit me. I’d spent a year volunteering at a community dispute resolution center. I’d seen it all, but the most common cases were always marital spats. And I’d learned one thing: in most relationships, if one person is willing to be shamelessly persistent, it’s hard to truly break the connection. From the sound of it, this guy’s level of devotion was way beyond the average simp. That made it even easier. “Relationship problems? That’s my jam! I was the top mediator in my community,” I typed. “This app censors a lot of words, so it’s not the best place to talk. Add me on another app, and we can chat properly.” “I will do everything in my power to help you win back your wife. I will not let you become a man in despair.” After sending the message, my heart hammered against my ribs. Without a moment’s hesitation, he sent back his account number. “Really? Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” 4 But here was the weird thing. When I entered the number into the search bar, the app told me this person was already in my contacts. I looked again. Wait a second. Wasn’t that Owen’s account? I searched five more times, and the same profile kept popping up. The smile on my face froze and then shattered.

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The shipment had been sitting in the warehouse for a month. We were on the final day of the payment window, and our company’s finance department still hadn’t released the funds. I had chased them countless times. Finally, the finance director snapped. “The money is tied up in a short-term investment! Every day it’s out early, we lose a hundred dollars! If I pay for your shipment, who’s going to compensate the company for that loss?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Just tell them we’ll be a little late. As soon as the investment matures, we’ll pay them.” I tried to explain that our supplier didn’t do credit; they wouldn’t release the goods without payment. She gave me a slow, condescending look from head to toe. “Aren’t women in sales supposed to sweet-talk their way into a deal? Go bat your eyelashes a little, and I’m sure they’ll give you the goods. Don’t play the saint with me.” I just stood there, stunned. Then I turned around, walked out, and mortgaged my brand-new apartment. The shipment was worth half a million dollars. I could double that on the resale. … I wasn’t even back from my annual leave when I got the call from Mr. Carter, the owner of our supplier, Carter Tech. “Mina, I’m at my wit’s end here!” he said, his voice strained. “These parts have been sitting in my warehouse for two months. Your payment still hasn’t arrived. If this continues, it’s going to cause a serious cash flow problem for me.” “That’s impossible,” I said instinctively. “I confirmed it with finance before I left. They promised to make the payment on the first day back. Can you have your people double-check their accounts?” He sighed heavily. “You know there’s a line out the door for our components. I’ve been working with your company for this long purely out of respect for you, Mina.” “I can give you three more days. If the money isn’t here by then, don’t blame me for what happens next.” Before I could say anything else, the line went dead. I immediately called my colleague in procurement, Tanya. After what felt like an eternity, she answered, her voice immediately hostile. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?” “The Carter Tech payment—” She hung up on me. Next, I tried the intern, Leo. He sounded apologetic. “Mina, I’ve asked them so many times. Kim in finance is going to kill me if I ask again.” I tried calling the finance director, Kimberly “Kim” Vance, directly, but it went straight to voicemail. My gut told me this was more than just a simple delay. I canceled the rest of my vacation and booked the next flight home. The moment I walked into the office, another sales rep, Mark, cornered me. “Our buyer has already paid the 10% deposit,” he said, his face grim. “Your components haven’t even hit the factory floor. If we miss the delivery deadline, the penalty clauses are going to be brutal.” My brow furrowed. I headed straight for the finance department. Kim looked up, surprised to see me. “What are you doing back?” I forced a smile. “Hi Kim. Carter Tech says they still haven’t received the payment. I tried calling, but you must have been busy. Could you give me the payment confirmation so I can have them trace it?” She rolled her eyes, annoyed. “There was no payment, so there’s no confirmation.” I froze. “No payment? But we agreed before the break that it would be sent the day we got back. Why hasn’t it been paid?” She ignored me, turning to bark at a new accountant. “I asked you for the accounts payable report yesterday! Is it so hard to get it done? Do you even want to pass your probation?” The young woman flinched, muttering apologies. I placed a small gift bag from the airport duty-free on Kim’s desk. She finally glanced at it. “I appreciate you following up on this,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Today is the final deadline. The payment absolutely has to be sent before the end of the day.” I spent the entire afternoon on edge at my desk, but no payment confirmation ever came. As Kim started packing up to leave, I shot out of my chair and blocked her path. “You said the Carter Tech payment would be made today. Why hasn’t it been sent?” “I never promised you I’d pay it,” she said flatly. Her attitude was so infuriating I almost laughed. I dropped the polite act and laid out the facts. “Delaying this payment will jeopardize our future business with them. If the company loses millions because of you, do you think you can handle the fallout when the partners start asking questions?” That hit a nerve. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me!” she snapped. “It has nothing to do with me!” “The money is tied up in a short-term investment! We lose a hundred dollars for every day it’s out early! If I pay for your shipment, who’s going to compensate the company for that loss?” “Just tell them we’ll be a little late. As soon as the investment matures, we’ll pay them!” Tanya leaned against the doorframe, a stack of expense reports in her hand. “Mina, Kim has made her point. Why don’t you just give her a break? Besides, you and Mr. Carter are so close. I’m sure if you ask him nicely, he’ll agree.” I ignored her, my eyes locked on Kim. “Carter Tech doesn’t do credit. No money, no components.” “I followed the standard payment procedure. Every manager signed off on it. If you’re not going to pay, you need to give me a valid reason.” I expected some bureaucratic excuse. Instead, she exchanged a look with Tanya, then gave me that same condescending, head-to-toe scan. “Aren’t women in sales supposed to sweet-talk their way into a deal? Go bat your eyelashes a little, and I’m sure they’ll give you the goods. Don’t play the saint with me.” I was speechless. Instantly, the way everyone in the office looked at me changed. Our company processes high-precision instrument components. Six months ago, the head of procurement, Grant, had resigned. Procurement is usually a coveted position, but our industry is different. The profit margins on our finished products are huge, which means the price of raw components is constantly skyrocketing. There are only a handful of suppliers, and getting a contract depends entirely on relationships. Grant had secured our deal with Carter Tech because he was a distant relative of Mr. Carter’s. It was the only reason we were getting components below market price. After Grant left, headquarters sent a team to assess the situation. When they learned Grant had been my mentor, they transferred me from sales to take over procurement, hoping Mr. Carter would extend me the same courtesy. If I could keep the supply chain running smoothly, a promotion to Vice President was on the table for next year. Realizing tomorrow was the final, non-negotiable deadline, I stormed into the General Manager’s office. Mr. Shaw was on the phone. Seeing me, he quickly wrapped it up. “Mina, have a seat.” I poured out the entire story—Kim deliberately withholding payment, the condescending remarks, my growing panic. He listened patiently, then took a slow sip of tea. “Kim already spoke to me about the payment.” He set his cup down. “And she has a point. She has her own considerations. You need to be more understanding.” I just stared at him, my mind refusing to process what I was hearing. “Mina, let me be frank,” he said. “Take the Carter Tech payment. Why can’t we just pay them after we’ve processed the components, sold the final product, and received payment from our own client?” “That cash, which would have been paid out, can be earning interest in our account. Over a few months, that adds up to a nice little profit. Why do we always have to dance to someone else’s tune?” My head was spinning. “But… Carter Tech doesn’t allow that! The industry standard is cash on delivery. You know that rule!” He slammed his tea mug down on the desk. Hot tea splashed onto the back of my hand, stinging. “If you’re going to run procurement, you need to deliver results! Letting Carter Tech lead you around by the nose is not a result. Don’t forget, you work for Apex Industries! You are our procurement manager!” Mr. Shaw had been in his position for five years. He knew the industry inside and out. He was saying this for one reason: headquarters had chosen me, Grant’s protégé, for the VP track over his own preferred candidate, Jason. He was playing dumb to make my life difficult. I decided to be direct. “Mr. Shaw, if we lose this shipment because of non-payment, the company will suffer a catastrophic loss. Who is going to take responsibility for that?” His face hardened. “Is that a threat?” “No, sir,” I said quickly. “It’s a statement of fact.” He dropped the pretense, a cold sneer on his face. “If you fail to secure those components, the responsibility will be yours and yours alone. You’re on the brink of a major promotion, Mina. Don’t let the company down.” I walked back to my desk in a daze, the signed contract with Carter Tech feeling like a lead weight in my hands. Mr. Carter couldn’t wait, the company wouldn’t pay, and I was caught in the middle. Shaw and Kim were deliberately trying to ruin me. I wasn’t going to let them. I refused to be their scapegoat. The next morning, I drafted a detailed report of the situation to send to headquarters. On my way to pick up a package from reception, I passed Shaw’s office. I heard Kim’s unrestrained laughter from inside. “That little bitch, dripping in designer clothes, she’s definitely skimming off the top! If I don’t teach her a lesson, she’ll think she can walk all over me!” Shaw chuckled, a nasty, wheezing sound. “Once we push her out, your nephew can take over as head of procurement.” “You promise! Don’t let that little fox whisper a few sweet words in your ear and make you go soft!” I stood frozen outside the door, my nails digging so deep into my palms I thought I might draw blood. Reporting them to corporate would be letting them off too easy. They wanted to block my payment? Fine. Let’s play. Back home, I pulled out the deed to my apartment. I had poured my entire life savings into buying this place. My parents had even given me their retirement fund. It was the result of a decade of hard work. What was one more gamble? What Shaw and Kim didn’t know was that in that moment, I decided the rules of the game were about to change. In a small, discreet office on a financial side street, a man was scrolling through his phone, looking bored. “Ma’am, looking for a mortgage loan?” I placed the deed on his desk. “1,500 square feet, brand new, fully furnished. No existing loans. I need half a million. Not a penny less.” He took the document, typed a few things into his computer, and nodded. “Done.” “Interest is one percent a month. If that works, we sign.” “Make it two percent,” I said. “I need the cash now.” He stepped out, made a few calls, and came back to draw up the contract. Two hours later, $500,000 was sitting in my bank account. I called Mr. Carter. Before I could speak, he started pleading. “Mina, don’t do this to me! I haven’t even charged you the late fees for warehouse storage! Today is the absolute final deadline!” “Mr. Carter, that’s not why I’m calling,” I said quickly. “Apex breached the contract by not paying. You’ve already been more than patient. We’ll proceed according to the contract’s penalty clauses.” I took a breath. “I’m calling because I want to know… can you sell that shipment to me?” There was a long silence on the other end, then the sharp click of a lighter. “You mean, to you personally?” “Mina, this shipment is worth over two hundred thousand dollars. Are you sure you have that kind of money?” A small smile touched my lips. “If you agree, we can sign the contract right now. The money will be in your account in ten minutes.” He hesitated. “As a thank you,” I added, “I’ll give you a 5% commission.” A 5% commission was high. It was better than the hassle of finding another reliable buyer. Just as I predicted, he chuckled. “Alright, Mina. I trust you.” After signing the contract with Mr. Carter, I casually strolled back into the office.

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On my mother’s 39th birthday—the year I graduated high school—my father came home with his mistress, her son, and a single red rose. My mother took the rose from the boy. That night, she slit her wrists in the bathtub. So on our wedding day, I told my wife Rina, “If you ever want a divorce, just give me a red rose.” She held me tight. “Don’t worry, Jim. There will never be a single flower in our house.” She kept her word. Five years later, during a partner pitch, she noticed the man wore a rose boutonnière. She threw him out and blacklisted his firm instantly. That day, I believed our marriage was a sanctuary. Until six months later, when I finished my pharmaceutical research and stepped out of the lab. The corridor was a blood-red river of roses. Beside Rina stood the same man she’d expelled, smirking. My face went cold. Rina waved a hand. “It’s a surprise from Miles—for you,” she said lightly. “He’s your half-brother, Jim. He’s here to make amends.” I stared at her for two hollow seconds, then turned and walked away. I never had a brother. And from that day on, I no longer had a wife. 1. I stood before my mother’s grave for three hours. Today was her birthday, and the tenth anniversary of her death. Red roses. They were once the symbol of my parents’ love. Ten years ago, my father stood by and watched as Miles Croft placed that rose in my mother’s hand, shattering the last fragments of her spirit. The red rose. My trigger. My taboo. And today, ten years later, my own wife brought my mother’s killer back into my life, armed with the very symbol of my pain, to deliver the final, fatal blow. In the distance, a shower of fireworks lit up the evening sky. It was the celebration party Rina had thrown for the successful development of the new drug. My team and I had poured half a year into it—180 days of sleepless nights and skipped meals. And now, this moment felt like nothing more than a victory lap for Miles. I said my goodbyes to my mother and turned to leave. Just then, my phone rang. It was Rina. Her voice was thick with champagne. “The party’s almost over, where are you? It looks bad, you know, the head of R&D not even showing up.” I said nothing. Any other time, I would have feigned annoyance, let her coax me with sweet words, and then waited happily for her to come pick me up. But tonight, the words wouldn’t come. Rina’s voice sharpened. “Jim Ward, I’m talking to you! Where the hell did you go?!” “The cemetery.” Silence. A beat of it, as if the cogs in her wine-soaked brain were slowly turning. It seemed she finally remembered what day it was. Maybe she also remembered that I’d given up my own birthday celebration for this project. That I’d canceled our anniversary dinner. My only request had been for her to come with me today, to visit my mother. The silence stretched for another two seconds before she finally spoke, her voice strained. “I… I was just so excited today. I forgot.” “Wait for me there,” she added quickly. I hung up and walked away. But by the time I reached the parking lot, a text from her buzzed on my phone: Jim, it’s too late tonight. Let’s do it next time. Miles is drunk, I have to get him home first. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll make it up to you. I felt no surprise. Of course Miles would find a way to keep her occupied tonight. His manipulations were obvious. I could see them. And Rina, a veteran of the cutthroat business world, could certainly see them too. But Rina didn’t care. Because she enjoyed it. Because she didn’t give a damn about how I felt. It didn’t matter anymore. From now on, I wouldn’t have to care about her, either. 2. Rina didn’t come home that night. Not a single text. Not a single call. I didn’t check. I didn’t ask. The next morning, I arrived at the company early. Rina was the CEO; I was the Head of R&D. In five years, we’d moved our company from a garage to a skyscraper in the heart of the CBD. But our marriage had journeyed in the opposite direction. With the first phase of the new drug’s development complete, things were quiet for now. I was sipping my coffee, reviewing the divorce papers my lawyer had emailed me, when Rina walked into my office. “Miles twisted his ankle getting out of the car last night, so I stayed to look after him for a bit,” she began, a practiced explanation. “It got too late, so I just crashed at a hotel nearby.” I nodded, my eyes still scanning the legal document. “Right. Got it.” We were getting divorced. Who she slept with, where she slept—it was her business now. She didn’t need to report to me. Rina froze, looking like she wanted to say more but held back. “Let’s do dinner tonight. You’re the hero behind this new drug. You deserve a proper celebration.” She paused, glancing at me. “Should we invite Miles? I think you two should talk. He was just a kid when your mother passed away, after all.” Hearing her try to whitewash Miles’s actions made my hand freeze for a fraction of a second. Rage, cold and sharp, coiled in my gut. I wanted to ask her, And I wasn’t a child when my mother died? I forced the anger down with a sip of bitter coffee. “My business is my own,” I said softly. “Tonight, let’s just make it the two of us.” It’s hard to discuss a divorce with an audience. As for a brother? My mother only had one son. I didn’t have a brother. Rina stared at me, then a slow smirk played on her lips, as if she thought I was jealous. She was about to say something when her phone buzzed, cutting her off. The name ‘Miles’ lit up the screen. A genuine smile touched her face as she answered and hurried out of my office. Near the end of the workday, I received a text from her: a reservation confirmation for an exclusive private restaurant. Her way of making amends, I knew. I printed the divorce papers, tucked them into my briefcase, and prepared to meet her. As I left the building, her car purred to a stop beside me. She rolled down the window. “You head home and get ready. I’m just meeting a client quickly, I’ll be there soon.” The car was already pulling away before she finished the sentence. In the past, I would have spent two hours getting ready for a date with Rina. I was clumsy with styling my hair and picking out clothes, a process that was both a chore and a joy. This time, there was no point. I found a nearby spa and treated myself to a deep-tissue massage, letting the tension from months of overtime melt away from my exhausted body. When I arrived at the restaurant, Rina wasn’t there yet. I sent her a text. No reply. I shook my head. Instead of waiting like I always did, I ordered for myself. The restaurant’s ambiance was serene, the food exquisite. A universe away from the takeout boxes I’d been eating at the office. So when Rina never showed up, I wasn’t angry. She had already betrayed seven years of our life together. What was one missed dinner? She didn’t know it, but her signature on those divorce papers would be the only compensation I needed. 3. After dinner, I took a slow walk home. The endless cycle of work had left me feeling disconnected from the world, but the simple, lively energy of the streets breathed a little life back into me. Suddenly, I stopped. I was on a familiar street. I realized the garage where Rina and I had started our company had been torn down long ago. And the little bakery where we used to buy cheap buns to save a dollar a day was now a fancy pastry shop. The world had moved on, and so had we. Even the memories I once cherished had been eroded by time. My phone rang, pulling me from my thoughts. It was my old professor. His voice was hesitant. “Jim, your application to join the secret research for Project Chimera… the board approved it yesterday.” He paused. “But I have to ask you one last time, are you absolutely sure about this?” “This mission will take at least five years. Without you, your company with your wife could collapse.” “Will she agree to this?” I started walking again, leaving the street of ghosts behind me. My voice was firm. “Professor, I’m getting a divorce.” … The project was starting immediately, and I was eager to leave this life behind. I arranged for the professor’s team to pick me up the next day. With no desire to wander any longer, I hailed a cab home. The living room lights were on. Rina was on the sofa, texting. The moment she saw me, the frown on her face vanished. She rushed over, grabbing my hand. “Why didn’t you wait for me at the restaurant? I got there and you were gone. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?” I was momentarily stunned that she’d actually gone. But her entitled indignation was almost laughable. Then again, it was normal for her. She was used to me waiting. I pulled my hand from her grasp. “I was done eating. Why would I stay?” Perhaps sensing she was in the wrong, she reined in her frustration and handed me a gift box. “I bought this especially for you today. Open it.” I wasn’t surprised. After standing me up twice, she had to offer some form of compensation. This was Rina’s pattern. Every time she messed up, she’d toss me a small treat afterward. And I, like a fool, would always be waiting, hoping the treat would be bigger this time—maybe a little more of her time. I took the gift box and casually tossed it onto the sofa. “You shouldn’t have,” I said, my tone polite but distant. The smile froze on her face. For the first time, she seemed to register my indifference. A flicker of panic crossed her eyes, and she reached for my hand again. Just then, Miles’s voice drifted down from the second floor. “Rina, maybe I should just go home. I wouldn’t want Jim to get the wrong idea when he gets back…” He appeared at the top of the stairs, and upon seeing me, his feigned surprise was betrayed by the triumph in his eyes. Rina rushed to explain. “Miles hurt his ankle yesterday, so I took him for a check-up today. That’s why I was so late for dinner.” “He can’t move around much, so I told him he could stay in the guest room for the night.” She watched me intently, as if expecting an explosion. I just nodded. “Fine. Then I’ll go to a hotel. I won’t sleep under the same roof as him.” Rina was speechless, clearly not expecting this reaction. “If you really don’t want Miles here, I’ll send him…” Before she could finish, Miles let out a yelp, tumbling down the last few steps and clutching his ankle in agony. Rina gasped and rushed to help him back to his room, fussing over him. As I was dragging my suitcase to the door, Rina reappeared in the living room. She bit her lip, her hand clamping around my wrist, refusing to let go. The guilt in her eyes deepened with every passing second. Finally, spurred by another pained groan from Miles’s room, she spoke. “Tomorrow,” she pleaded. “I’ll go with you to see your mother. We can talk, really talk, in front of her.” My face was a mask of indifference. I turned and left. Talk? She could talk to my lawyer. The moment Miles Croft was in my house, the conversation was over. There was nothing left to discuss, not even a divorce. 4. The next morning, the car from the institute arrived right on time. But before I left, I had one last stop to make. I had to go to the office and get the photo of my mother from my desk. I would not let that picture fall into Miles Croft’s hands. The moment I stepped into the company, I was met with strange looks from my colleagues. When I reached my office, I understood why. Miles was sitting in my chair, a smug, provocative look on his face. “Jim, my dear brother,” he began. “Looks like we’ll be working together from now on.” When I didn’t respond, his smirk widened. “Dad invested in the company. The Crofts are majority shareholders now.” “I’m the new Vice President. Which means, from now on, you report to me.” My eyes narrowed. “An investment? The Croft family assets are nowhere near enough to become a majority shareholder in this company.” Miles scoffed. “Don’t you worry about that. We have our ways.” “I like this office, by the way. I’m taking it. This is where you’ll be giving me your reports.” I looked at him, a cold smile touching my lips. “It seems you and your mother both have a taste for other people’s things.” “But you’re not as smart as she is. At least she knew when to be patient.” With that, I picked up my mother’s photograph and turned to leave. Rina appeared in the doorway just as I was walking out. Her face tightened when she saw the photo in my hand. “Where are you going?” “I’m just—” Miles cut me off, his voice dripping with arrogance. “He’s clearing out his office for me. I like this one.” Rina grabbed my arm as I tried to move past her. “No,” she said firmly. “This has always been your office. No one is taking—” I cut her off. “If he wants it, he can have it.” My resignation was already submitted. If she approved it, I was gone. If she didn’t, it didn’t matter. It was a notification, not a request. Just like she hadn’t notified me before letting Miles into our company. Rina stood frozen, her expression unreadable. She only snapped out of it when my back had disappeared down the hall. She stormed into the office where Miles was humming and rearranging the furniture. She grabbed him, dragged him out into the open workspace, and, in front of everyone, slapped him hard across the face. “I warned you,” she hissed, her voice dangerously low. “You are here to support Jim’s work. To serve him.” “He is the Head of R&D. The entire next phase of this drug depends on him. Who the hell gave you the idea you could run your mouth at him?” Down in the lobby, my phone buzzed with a series of texts from her. 【If you don’t like Miles, I’ll make him leave. I’ll fire him right now.】 【The Philharmonic is in town tonight, your favorite. I got us two front-row seats.】 【We’ll go see your mother first, and then we can have the whole night to ourselves.】 【I’ll meet you at the cemetery. 5 PM. Don’t be late.】 I shook my head, popped the SIM card out of my phone, snapped it in two, and dropped it into the nearest trash can. Don’t insult my intelligence. I got into the waiting car and headed for the airport. At five o’clock that evening, Rina Ward stood at the gates of the cemetery, dressed in somber black.

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1 I beat my wife—the one who swore she loved me more than life itself—and put her in the hospital. Then I walked into the nearest precinct and turned myself in, ready to go to prison. I did it because, in my past life, the great love of her life came back to town after his divorce. First, he had a meltdown at Tiffany’s, smashing a display case to pieces. Then, he fled the scene in his car, lost control, and caused a massive pile-up. Later, the Tiffany’s store manager and the drivers from the crash all came to me, pointing their fingers, swearing I was the one responsible. I tried to prove my innocence, but every single security video they produced showed my face. My own wife backed them up, insisting I’d had a depressive episode and wasn’t in my right mind. I was stabbed to death on the spot by one of the victim’s family members. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. The night before her old flame destroyed everything. … I left my bruised and battered wife at the emergency room entrance. My impatient demeanor and the array of injuries on her body—welts and bruises that clearly didn’t come from a simple fall—painted a clear picture. Just then, two police officers walked in. “Who called this in?” I immediately held out my hands. “I did, Officer. I’m turning myself in. The woman I assaulted is in the ER right now.” The officer gave me a surprised look, confirmed my story with a nurse, and promptly took me back to the precinct. The first thing my wife, Nancy, did after being discharged from the emergency room was try to post my bail. “I really just fell! It has nothing to do with my husband,” she insisted. I stood my ground. “I’m the one who beat you. How do you fall and get whip marks?” Nancy’s eyes blazed with a desperate, frustrated anger. “Mark Weinberg, are you insane? I’m trying to save you!” But I was resolute. “I did something wrong, and I deserve to be punished. It’s that simple.” Nancy was trembling with rage, but no matter how she pleaded, I stuck to my story: it was a deliberate assault. Because I turned myself in and showed a willingness to cooperate, the police locked me up for five days. Nancy had no choice but to let the nurse wheel her back to her hospital room. But here, in this holding cell, a profound sense of peace washed over me. This time, they wouldn’t be able to pin those crimes on me. Not this time. In my last life, when Henry Cole returned to the city after his divorce, my wife Nancy’s heart went right back to him. She started spending every night out. I was at a shady clinic undergoing agonizing electroconvulsive therapy when Henry called her. She left in a hurry. “Henry’s been drinking, I have to go get him,” she’d said. “I’ll be back for you in a bit.” But she forgot to turn off the machine. She was gone the entire day. I was left alone, screaming, as the electricity coursed through me for hours. It took me two full days at home to recover even a fraction of my strength. Just as I was about to confront Nancy and demand an explanation, the news broke. Henry Cole had smashed up a Tiffany’s, then gone on a rampage through the city, racing at 120 miles an hour and causing a twenty-car pile-up. I had urged him to turn himself in, to sell his house and car to start paying for the damages. But Henry had just sneered at me. “Mark, you’re the one who caused a hit-and-run and vandalized a luxury store. What does that have to do with me? Why should I sell anything?” Then Nancy had slapped the divorce papers on the table—papers she’d tricked me into signing weeks before. “We’re already divorced, Mark,” she’d said, her voice like ice. “You can go to prison by yourself. The house and car were always in my name. Don’t even think about touching them.” I didn’t understand. Henry was the criminal. Why was I the one who had to pay? But then the store manager and the accident victims all came for me. They even had surveillance footage. And on every screen, it was my face. “The evidence is clear, Mark. Are you still going to deny it? Pay up.” “Twenty cars. A lifetime of work won’t even begin to cover the damage.” I stared at my own face on the screen, completely baffled. I didn’t do it. So why was it my face? But reborn, I would not make the same mistakes. Five days later, I was released from the precinct. Before I could even take a breath of fresh air, a hand grabbed my arm. A man was seething, his words dripping with venom. “You’re the bastard who put my wife in the hospital! I’m going to kill you.” He lunged for my collar, but I was faster, stepping back just in time. I realized a crowd had formed around us, a sea of hostile faces glaring at me as if they wanted to tear me limb from limb. “Mark Weinberg, you murderer!” “You’re not sick, you’re just pretending! What depression? You smash up stores and race through the city at 120? Do you have a death wish?” The mention of the high-speed chase drew in more passersby. Someone pulled out their phone and started a live stream. Facing the aggressive mob, I clenched my fists. I had locked myself away in a cell this time. Was it still not enough? Were they still not going to let me go? I took a deep breath and calmed myself. “You have no right to slander me with these baseless accusations,” I said, my voice loud and clear. The person streaming snorted and held up their phone, playing a video for me to see. “Who’s slandering you? Look for yourself.” In the video, I was seen entering the luxury store with my mother. After a brief argument, I suddenly flew into a rage, smashing a glass counter with my phone. My mother was grabbing my arm, screaming. “Mark, stop! Stop it, we can’t afford this!” The me in the video was emotionless. He even kicked my mother to the ground. She lay on the floor, clutching her chest, and yelled to the staff, “That’s my son, Mark Weinberg! He has depression, he can’t control himself!” My blood ran cold. In my last life, it was Nancy who stood outside Tiffany’s, screaming that I had depression. But this time, the very first thing I did was put Nancy in the hospital and get myself locked up for five days. And yet, the person shouting my name, shouting about my illness, was now my own mother. How could this be happening? “No way to deny it now, is there?” The luxury store vandalism had been a huge story. Now that they had their suspect, the live stream was exploding, shooting to the top of the trending charts. My face remained a mask as I stared at the image of myself on the screen. The store manager shoved a long list of damages in my face, his chest heaving with rage. “You destroyed three of my display cases. The jewelry inside is all damaged to varying degrees. The total comes to five million dollars.” “Some of those pieces were one-of-a-kind. They’re gone forever because of you.” A man who had been in the crash was even angrier. “My wife is three months pregnant. The shock of the crash… she’s in the hospital right now, fighting to keep our baby. And you had the nerve to flee the scene. I’ve got you now. You’re coming with me to the police.” He tried to drag me back towards the precinct. “That’s right! People like you should get the death penalty!” His cry was met with a chorus of agreement. The crowd surged with renewed fury. I fought to break free. “Everyone, calm down! I wasn’t the one who did these things!” The manager scoffed. “Your own mother was shouting your name in the store. How could it not be you?” “The person who did this was Henry Cole,” I explained desperately. “He’s my wife’s old flame. Go ask her! He’s the one who trashed the jewelry store. He’s the one who was racing through the city at 120…” As I was trying to reason with them, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Nancy had appeared from nowhere and slapped me hard. “You’re still trying to frame Henry? You’ll never change,” she spat, her voice filled with disgust. “You’ve done all this, and you still feel no remorse. Apologize to them. Now.” She tried to force my head down, to make me kneel. I shoved her away. “I didn’t do it! Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do?” Just then, Henry peeked out from behind her, playing the victim to perfection. “Mark, what’s happened to you?” he said, his voice soft with feigned disappointment. “Nancy has been so good to you, and you sent her to the hospital. Even now, she’s only worried about you. She wants you to apologize so you can get a lighter sentence.” His words struck a chord with the crowd. Their glares grew even more contemptuous. The attacks in the live stream chat intensified. Someone had already doxxed me, posting my home address. I stared at Henry. “I said it wasn’t me. Why are you so defensive?” Nancy raised her hand to slap me again, but this time I caught her wrist. “I told you,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Henry Cole did this. What are you trying to do? Beat a confession out of me?” Seeing the attention shift to him, Henry cried out, “Mark, how can you accuse me like this? Yes, I know Nancy and I were close, but that was just a childhood friendship. To avoid any misunderstandings, I even moved to another city. All these years, I’ve put up with your jealousy, not because I’m afraid of you, but because I didn’t want to make your condition worse. Mark, it’s time to stop.” His masterful performance sealed it. The crowd’s disdain for me turned to pure hatred. 【This guy’s ‘illness’ is self-inflicted. He’s so paranoid, sees rivals everywhere.】 【Someone tries to help him and he attacks them. Classic.】 【This is what happens when you let crazy people walk around.】 The chat was a waterfall of ridicule. Seeing this, Nancy’s anger flared. She kicked the back of my knee. “Apologize, damn it!” And then, my mother appeared. She looked at me with eyes full of disappointment. “Mark, go and turn yourself in.” “We were at Tiffany’s together yesterday. Others might not know, but I’m your mother. Don’t you think I know?” Nancy held my leg down while the crowd screamed insults. Someone threw a rotten egg, and it splattered across my forehead, the foul-smelling yolk dripping down my face. The commotion finally attracted the attention of the officers at the precinct entrance. “Stop! Everyone, break it up!” They quickly separated me from the mob. The officer who recognized me paused for a second, then spoke sternly. “Mark, shouldn’t you be heading home? Why are you causing trouble out here again?” Seeing him, I instinctively pulled back, then grabbed his arm like a lifeline. “Officer, you’re finally here. You have to help me.” The man whose wife was in the hospital snorted. “Why would a cop help a degenerate like you?” Nancy sighed dramatically. “Mark, just confess. You’ll get a lighter sentence.” The officer looked at the crowd, confused, a dawning realization on his face. “You’ve been out for less than ten minutes. What have you done now?” Ignoring the shocked stares, I spoke slowly and clearly. “They’re all insisting that yesterday I went to Tiffany’s and smashed the place up. A luxury store like that… I’ve never even dared to step inside. And they say I was racing my car at 120 miles an hour. They tracked me down the second I got out.” The officer stared blankly. “How could that possibly be you?” As the crowd exchanged confused glances, Nancy shrieked, “Mark, what did you do to make the police cover for you too? You destroyed millions in jewelry! You caused a massive accident! There are lives at stake! How dare you protect him?!” Her cry rallied the crowd. The phone streaming the event was shoved in the officer’s face. The chat was flooded with accusations of bribery and corruption. The officer’s face darkened as he saw the comments. “What is this nonsense you’re all spouting? Mark Weinberg has been in custody in our holding cells for the past five days. How could he have been out committing these crimes?” The crowd froze. The live stream chat stuttered to a halt for a single, silent moment. Then it exploded. 【Wait, so Mark was in jail for five days, but he was also the one who smashed up Tiffany’s and caused the pile-up YESTERDAY?】 【That’s impossible. Unless he can clone himself.】 The victims who had come for me were starting to hesitate. I slowly got to my feet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, my voice sincere. “I don’t know why my face is on that security footage. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that at that exact time yesterday, I was in a police holding cell. I never left.” Someone in the chat suggested the video might be a deepfake. The store owner was the first to object. “Impossible! This is from my own store’s security system!” To get to the bottom of it, the officer brought in a forensics tech to analyze the videos. The result was baffling. The videos were authentic, not tampered with in any way. And the face in them was, undeniably, mine. The crowd erupted in confusion. Nancy, her face a mask of fake concern, her eyes darting back and forth, suddenly had an idea. “That is Mark! I’ve slept next to him for years, I’d know that face anywhere! He must have snuck out of the precinct! He has depression! He probably faked a symptom to get sent to the hospital, and then he slipped away from there!” Henry gasped, playing his part perfectly. “That has to be it! Mark used to do that all the time, using his depression to get to the hospital and then sneaking out. Officer, the proof is right there! Arrest him!” The crowd, desperate for an answer, seized on the theory. “Arrest him!” they chanted. The officer’s face was grim. “Mark Weinberg was never taken to the hospital during his time in custody.” He had just made this confident declaration when another officer approached, looking uneasy. “Actually, sir… yesterday Weinberg complained of feeling unwell. We were worried it was an episode, so we did take him to the hospital for a check-up.” The words hung in the air. Henry pounced. “You see, Officer? I was right! Arrest him! He deserves the death penalty!” Now even the first officer was looking at me with suspicion. I looked at them both, my voice pleading. “Officers, you have to clear my name. I was brought in five days ago. Even when I went to the hospital yesterday, you were with me the entire time!” The second officer looked down, mumbling, “During the urology exam… I didn’t go into the room with him.” Henry’s voice boomed. “That’s it! He slipped out during the urology exam! That hospital is right near Tiffany’s! Confess now, Mark, and maybe you’ll get some leniency!” His performance, so full of fake concern, had the live stream viewers praising his magnanimity. How could he be so kind to the man who had wronged him? The crowd grew restless again, pressing in, shoving me. A punch landed on my cheek. I was a ship tossed in a storm, pushed back and forth. But as the chaos swirled around me, a smile touched my lips. Not because I had gone insane. But because I knew Henry wouldn’t let this go so easily. And I had come prepared. “STOP! I can prove Mark Weinberg didn’t do any of this!” At the sound of that voice, my smile widened. The person I’d been waiting for had finally arrived. A plainly dressed man pushed his way through the crowd and stood in front of me. “What are you all doing? What right do you have to condemn a man without any real proof?” The store manager, at the front of the mob, shot back, “Who says there’s no proof? And who the hell are you to butt in?” His words opened the floodgates, and the crowd turned their anger on the newcomer. Just as the wave of insults was about to crash over us, the man whose pregnant wife was in the hospital shouted. “Everyone, stand back!” He rushed forward and grabbed the newcomer’s hands, his voice filled with gratitude. “Mr. Sun! What are you doing here?” The crowd fell silent, looking from the furious man to the newcomer, utterly confused. The man explained, “This is Nathan Sun, the reporter who was first on the scene of the crash yesterday. He’s the reason my wife and baby are still alive. He let me use his electric bike to get her to the hospital in time.” “Not only that,” he continued, “Mr. Sun brought a medical team with him. They started treating people right away. That’s why, in a twenty-car pile-up, not a single person died.”

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1 The housekeeper’s son sold my hundred-million-dollar yacht. He told everyone I was a reckless womanizer, riddled with STDs, that I’d had a string of eighteen girlfriends and left a trail of terminated pregnancies in my wake. He claimed he was donating the money to a charity to cleanse my soul. My own sister backed his story, throwing me under the bus in front of everyone. My classmates turned it into a running joke. When my fiancée heard the rumors, she broke off our engagement, calling me a degenerate. I tried to call the police, but they all conspired against me, producing fabricated evidence that I was mentally unstable. They had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. There, on my family’s orders, I was tortured until my body gave out. I died young. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. The day my yacht disappeared. … My eyes shot open with a jolt. The housekeeper’s son, Noah, was standing in front of me, arms outstretched to block my path. He flinched when he saw the raw hatred in my eyes, but he still managed to raise his voice. “Why did you have to show off the yacht, Adrian? Couldn’t you just take your friends to a nice restaurant?” He turned to my sister. “You see, Claire? He just graduated and he’s already this extravagant. He’s going to bankrupt the family!” My sister, Claire, saw the look on my face and immediately stepped in front of Noah, shielding him. “That’s enough. Your yacht is gone, Adrian. Noah sold it. Just take your friends and go home.” She then turned back to Noah, tenderly straightening his collar. They shared a knowing smile, as if selling my hundred-million-dollar yacht was nothing more than a trivial errand. I watched their entitled act, bile rising in my throat. “That yacht was a gift from my grandmother. Who the hell are you to touch my things?” My sister stared at me, her shock genuine, as if she couldn’t believe I was defying her. “Adrian, have you forgotten who the future head of this family is?” I didn’t know before, but I learned it all after I died. I was meant to be the true heir. The memory of my last life sent a chill down my spine. My voice turned to ice. “So, the housekeeper’s son steals his employer’s yacht, and my sister protects the thief. It seems you two won’t confess unless I get the police involved.” At the mention of the police, Noah’s face flushed crimson. He shot me a venomous glare before turning to my classmates, who were watching the drama unfold with eager eyes. “I did it for your own good, Adrian!” he proclaimed. “You’re reckless with money and your private life is a mess! You play with women’s hearts, leaving a trail of broken promises and terminated pregnancies! You need to atone for your sins!” “That’s why I sold the yacht! To raise money for a massive donation, to pray for the souls of the children you denied a life, so they might find peace in the next!” His words were met with a chorus of gasps and whispers from my classmates. In my past life, his lies had sent me into a blind rage. I’d slapped him twice, hard. But that had only enraged Claire, who took his side and berated me for my supposed promiscuity. The story had spread like wildfire, eventually reaching my fiancée, Isabelle. The Sterling family had broken our engagement shortly after, and that was the beginning of my tragic end. Noah had quickly wormed his way into Isabelle’s life. To get rid of me for good, he and my sister fabricated evidence of my insanity, and my family had me forcibly committed. Under their explicit instructions, I was abused until I died. And that adulterous pair? One took my place as the heir to our family’s fortune. The other took my place at the altar with my fiancée. The memory made me tremble with fury. I pulled out my phone. “A housekeeper’s son dares to slander his employer. You’d better keep that same energy when you’re talking to the cops, Noah.” “Let’s let the police figure out who’s really sleeping around,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “And while they’re at it… let’s find out where my yacht went.” Noah went pale and shot a desperate look at Claire. She immediately sprang to his defense, slapping the phone out of my hand. “Don’t you dare threaten him, Adrian! It won’t change the disgusting things you’ve done! In fact, today, in front of all your friends, I’m going to expose you for who you really are!” Last time, I tried to keep it private, to save what was left of our sibling relationship. This time, I was done being their victim. I turned to my classmates. “My housekeeper’s son stole my yacht, and my sister is protecting him! Can someone please call the police for me?” They all avoided my gaze. “Come on, Adrian, Noah is a great guy. Why would he steal your yacht?” “He’s handsome and generous. He’s not a thief.” “He said he was doing it to help you atone. You should be thanking him, not slandering him.” “Maybe all that sleeping around has damaged more than just his reputation…” They whispered among themselves, punctuated by smug, knowing laughter. My face burned with humiliation. “Generous? He’s generous with my family’s money! You people—” Claire grabbed my arm, her voice a low threat. “That’s enough. Don’t make this worse for yourself. Noah grew up in our house. He’s like a second son to our family. Humiliating him is the same as humiliating me!” I looked at her face, red with fury, and slapped her. Hard. “No,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “That is what humiliating you looks like.” I snatched my phone off the ground and frantically dialed my mother’s number. All I got was the cold, automated message: the user’s phone is switched off. Ignoring Claire’s sputtering rage, I tried again and again, but the result was the same. A cold dread settled in my stomach. Everything had happened so fast in my past life, I never had time to think. But now, it hit me. Through all of this, my mother was nowhere to be seen. Something was wrong. Very wrong. I ignored the jeers of my classmates and the loss of my hundred-million-dollar yacht. Backing away slowly, I dialed my grandmother. Her voice was warm and full of affection. “My dear boy, when are you coming to stay with your grandma for a few days…” I cut to the chase, my voice a low, urgent whisper. “Grandma, Mom is missing. I think Dad, my sister, and the housekeeper are involved. Claire and the housekeeper’s son sold the yacht you gave me, but that’s not what’s important. You have to find Mom. Please!” As I was speaking, I backed into someone. I spun around. It was my fiancée, Isabelle. By now, Claire and Noah had caught up to me. Seeing Isabelle, Noah’s eyes immediately welled up. “Isabelle,” he said, his voice thick with false righteousness. “Adrian… he sleeps around, he’s hurt so many girls, he’s even caught… diseases. I only wanted you two to have a happy, healthy marriage, so I made a donation of several million to charity in his name. But he’s furious with me for spending the money.” “He even hit Claire,” he added, his voice breaking. “Isabelle, please, talk some sense into him.” Noah was handsome, and his performance was convincing. It was enough to ignite Isabelle’s temper. She glared at me, then grabbed my arm and dragged me in front of Noah. “Adrian, you’ve gone too far! How could you bully someone who is only trying to help you? Apologize to him. Now!” “If you don’t,” she added, her voice sharp, “I will call off our engagement on behalf of the Sterling family!” I looked at the three of them, standing shoulder to shoulder—the very people who had sent me to hell in my last life. I clenched my jaw. “You want me to apologize? You’re not worthy.” Noah looked up, a single, perfect tear tracing a path down his cheek. “Of course. I’m just the housekeeper’s son. Nothing I do will ever be good enough for you…” Claire and Isabelle immediately started fussing over him. I used the distraction to slip away and head straight for the police station. The officers’ eyes widened in disbelief when they heard a private luxury yacht worth a hundred million dollars had been stolen and sold. After confirming that I wasn’t suffering from any delusions, they agreed to open an investigation. I had just walked out of the precinct, the detective still seeing me off, when my phone rang. It was Noah. “Where did you run off to cry, my dear brother?” he taunted. “You’ve been lording your position over me for years. How does it feel to finally be crushed under my heel?” I let out a cold laugh. “What do you want, Noah?” His voice was dripping with triumph. “I want you to know that your fiancée is mine now. Your sister is on my side. Everything you have… will be mine. Everyone is protecting me now. You’d be wise to accept your new reality and say goodbye to your precious yacht.” I blinked, then ended the call. I turned to the detective who was still standing behind me. “Did you get all of that?” For my own safety while the investigation was ongoing, I went to stay at my grandmother’s estate in the countryside. The moment she saw me, she pulled me into a fierce hug, tears streaming down her face. “My dear boy, what have they done to you?” I buried my face in her shoulder, the sting of tears in my own eyes. “I’m okay, Grandma. Did you find Mom?” She gently stroked my hair and was about to answer when the front door of the villa was kicked open. It was my father, Victor, and my sister, Claire. Seeing me there, my father’s face contorted with rage. “Adrian! After all the shameful things you’ve done, you have the nerve to hide here?” “You’re coming back with me! You will apologize to Noah, and you will hand over your engagement to him!” I stood up straight, meeting his gaze without flinching. “The housekeeper’s son tells a few lies, and suddenly I’m shameful and depraved?” “If it’s that easy to slander someone, then maybe I should start telling people the housekeeper’s entire family is corrupt.” “And another thing. That yacht was a gift from my grandmother. I want it back.” My father was sputtering with rage. He lunged for me. “I know what kind of boy Noah is! He did it for your own good! You insolent brat, get back home this instant! You’re grounded!” Just then, my grandmother, who had been silent until now, stepped in front of me, leaning on her cane. “Victor. It seems you’ve forgotten your manners. You see your mother-in-law and you don’t even greet her.” Seeing her, my father snapped out of his rage. The color drained from his face, then a tight, dismissive smile appeared. “Mother. I’m just trying to discipline this disobedient fool for you. You don’t need to get involved.” My grandmother laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “Victor. Adrian is my grandson. You’d do well to remember that before you speak.” My father’s face hardened. He pulled out his phone and sent a message. Within moments, a crowd had gathered at the gates of the estate. They were carrying cameras and microphones, surrounding a white medical van. In the center of it all stood Noah. I moved closer, just in time to hear him shouting to the reporters. “—I did it all for him! But he insults me again and again! So today, I’m asking all of you to be my witness! Let’s find out, once and for all, if my brother has been playing the field and destroying innocent lives!” To my horror, my sister Claire walked up to him and gently wiped a tear from his cheek. “You’ve been through so much, Noah.” Their eyes met for a moment, and then Noah turned back to the crowd and pointed at me. “Adrian! You claim to be innocent, so prove it! The reporters and doctors are all here. Do you dare to let them examine you?” My head was spinning. Beside me, my grandmother was trembling with fury. “You animals! How dare you humiliate my grandson like this!” My father then stepped into the crowd, a smug smile on his face. “My apologies, Mother, but our family’s alliance with the Sterlings is too important. We can’t very well marry off a son who is filthy and diseased. It would jeopardize future business.” His words riled up the onlookers. “Now that’s a real man! Mr. Vance won’t let his children stray from the right path!” “Look at that Adrian’s face, he’s white as a sheet. He must be guilty.” “No doubt about it. And look how calm the other young master is.” I stood on the veranda, looking down at the growing mob. I squeezed my grandmother’s hand and then, my voice ringing out over the crowd, I spoke. “Fine. Since my father is so concerned about the marriage alliance, let’s not just test me.” “Let’s have your precious ‘second young master’ get tested right alongside me.”

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Returning from a trip, I found a young, overly familiar nanny in my home. She adored my husband Leo but shot venomous looks at me. I wanted to fire her, but Leo refused, calling me unreasonable. After learning this, the nanny, Jade, grew to hate me. I specifically warned her that my mother—coming for dinner—had a fatal peanut allergy. She still loaded the food with peanut sauce, sending the guest to the ICU. Jade then played victim for Leo, claiming I set her up. Leo turned on me, disgusted. “How could you be so malicious?” I simply smiled, packed his bags, and threw them both out. Jade broke down; Leo sneered, wishing my mother ill. I laughed. “My mother is abroad. The woman in the ICU… is yours.” 1 “Mom, I knew you were coming today, so I had Jade make all your favorites,” I said with a warm smile, placing a piece of chicken on my mother-in-law’s plate. But after only a few bites, her face flushed a frightening shade of red. Her hands flew to her throat, and before she could choke out a single word, she tumbled from her chair onto the floor. Panic seized me for a second, but then adrenaline kicked in. It was an allergic reaction. A severe one. There was no time to rage at Jade, who had cooked the dinner. I immediately laid my mother-in-law flat on the ground and tried to clear her airway. I glanced up and saw Jade just standing there, arms crossed, watching the chaos with a detached amusement. A surge of fury shot through me. “What are you doing just standing there?” I screamed at her. “Can’t you see she’s having a reaction? Go to my room, get the EpiPen from the top drawer of my nightstand, and call 911! Now!” Jade didn’t move an inch. Her pretty face was a canvas of contempt. “I may be your nanny, but I have my dignity. We’re equals. The magic word is ‘please.’ Don’t you know basic manners?” I stared at her, dumbfounded. My brow furrowed. “I told you this afternoon—no peanuts in any of the dishes tonight. Did you forget?” Jade shook her head. “Oh, I didn’t forget. But you were being so dramatic this afternoon. I just couldn’t believe someone could die from a few peanuts.” “I have allergies myself—I can’t eat shellfish. The worst that happens is I get an itchy rash. You’re the kind of person I can’t stand, always making a big deal out of nothing.” She added with a sickeningly sweet smile, “Besides, think of it as desensitization therapy. A few more meals like this and she’ll be cured. You’re welcome.” I was so choked with rage I couldn’t even speak. Jade seemed to relish my stunned silence. She smirked. “You know why your mom’s having a reaction? It’s like they say, you can’t buy class. Did you really think marrying into a wealthy family meant you and your whole family would suddenly ascend to heaven? Honey, it’s called not knowing your place, and this is the universe punishing you for it.” I froze. Because the woman gasping for air on my floor wasn’t my mother. She was my mother-in-law. 2 It’s just that my husband, Leo, had always been so effortlessly charming with my parents, calling them ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ from day one. I felt awkward still calling his mother ‘Mrs. Reid,’ so I’d started calling her ‘Mom’ too. Could it be? Was it because I’d said my mom was coming this afternoon that Jade had done this on purpose? I didn’t have time to explain. My mother-in-law was on the verge of death. By the time I clarified the family tree, we wouldn’t need an ambulance; we’d need a hearse. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed my phone to call 911. But before I could even dial, Jade lunged, snatching the phone from my hand and slamming it onto the marble floor. The screen spiderwebbed into a thousand pieces. “Are you insane? If we don’t call an ambulance, she could die! That’s murder, do you understand?” I yelled, my voice cracking. I turned to run upstairs for the EpiPen and my spare phone. Jade just laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Quit the act. Calling an ambulance? Please. I know you were just going to call Leo and tattle on me.” She scoffed. “Life-threatening? Could you be any more dramatic?” As she spoke, she sauntered over to my mother-in-law and gave her a light kick with the toe of her shoe. “Alright, old lady, show’s over. With acting skills like that, you should be at the Oscars, not causing a scene in the Reid household.” When my mother-in-law didn’t respond, Jade didn’t seem bothered. She turned her attention back to me. “Let me be perfectly clear. I’ve already turned off the security cameras. I’m going to teach you a lesson today. Just because you married Leo doesn’t make you the lady of this house.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “This is your punishment for trying to get me fired. I suggest you learn from this. From now on, you’d better learn to stay in your lane, or I can’t guarantee I won’t ‘accidentally’ add a little something extra to your food one day.” I stared at her, a chill running down my spine. “How did you know I wanted to fire you?” 3 Jade was hired while I was out of the country. In her early twenties, young and beautiful. She was efficient, had a folder full of certifications, spoke fluent French, could drive, and was an amazing cook. On paper, she was the perfect nanny. But the hostility she directed at me was palpable from the moment I met her. I’d considered replacing her, but Leo insisted that a nanny of her caliber was hard to find. He told me to just give it time, that we’d warm up to each other. I’m not a difficult person, so I let it go. But what she just said sent my mind racing. Jade seemed to read my thoughts. She let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Leo, of course. He told me not to mind you, that you were just a spoiled princess throwing a tantrum. He said he’d stand by me, that he would never fire me.” Her eyes raked over me dismissively. “It’s actually hilarious. A spoiled princess? You don’t have the grace of a princess, just the attitude. Dragging your mother here all the time to leech off the family fortune. You probably don’t even know, but Leo can’t stand your parents. He’s told me more than once that he wishes they’d just die already.” Hearing that, a piece of my heart turned to ice. “So,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “you and Leo are close, then?” Jade caught the sarcasm in my tone and nodded defiantly. “That’s right. While you were away for the last six months, Leo and I got very close. Did you really expect a man as incredible as Leo to stay faithful to you?” She took a step closer, her voice rising. “And who are you to talk to me like that? You’re just a pretty face who married into money. If you can do it, why can’t I?” I almost laughed. It was clear now that Leo had been enjoying himself while I was away. But it was also clear he hadn’t told Jade one crucial detail: who, exactly, was the one who had “married up” in this relationship. 4 I wasn’t heartbroken. A girl from my kind of family learns early on that people change, that feelings are fleeting, but money is constant. Besides, when Leo and I got married, he signed a rock-solid prenup. If we divorced, he would walk away with nothing. With that thought calming me, I looked at Jade evenly. “Fine. If you and Leo have something going on, I don’t want him anymore. He’s all yours. Now call the ambulance. This is a matter of life and death. I promise you, I will divorce him and leave him to you.” Jade’s eyes lit up, a flash of pure triumph. She looked like she was about to jump for joy, but then her expression soured. “Nice try. You’re just saying that so you can take half of Leo’s money and live happily ever after.” “Then what do you want?” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. I glanced at my mother-in-law; her face was turning a horrifying shade of purple. Jade thought for a moment, then pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I want you on your knees. I want you to look into this camera, crying your eyes out, and confess that you cheated on Leo while you were abroad. That you’re leaving in shame and won’t take a single penny. You say that, and I’ll call the ambulance for your precious mother.” I rolled my eyes and gave up. I walked over to the sofa and sat down. “You figure it out, then. If you don’t want to call for help, we can just wait. But when she dies, your life is over, too. Leo isn’t going to marry a murderer.” Jade was stunned by my sudden composure. She sputtered, “That’s your mother! Are you just going to sit there and watch her die?” I shook my head slowly. “What if I told you… that’s not my mother? That’s my mother-in-law. Leo’s mom.” 5 The color drained from Jade’s face. She stared at the woman on the floor, speechless. “You’re lying! I did my research. Leo’s parents are on vacation in Europe right now.” Her voice trembled. “And Leo told me his parents can’t stand you because you refuse to have children.” “Besides, look at her! She looks like she’s from some backwater town. She has to be your mother. You think I’m going to fall for a stupid trick like that?” Jade shook her head, clinging to her version of reality. I shrugged. “Believe what you want. But take a good look. She’s unconscious. A few more minutes and she’ll be gone for good.” “You bitch! Your own mother is dying and you’re acting so cold! Is money really all that matters to you?” Then a new thought seemed to strike her. “No… I can’t let her die. If she dies, you’ll pin it on me. Leo will feel sorry for you and he won’t divorce you. I can’t let that happen!” Seeing I wasn’t going to budge, Jade hesitated for a few seconds before fumbling for the EpiPen I’d told her about earlier. But my mother-in-law was already in shock and couldn’t swallow the medication from an oral syringe she mistakenly grabbed instead of the injector. “Come on, take it! Old woman, you have to swallow! If you don’t, you’ll die! Don’t you dare try to frame me with your death! Wake up!” She started slapping my mother-in-law’s face, hard. It happened so fast I couldn’t even stop her. Finally, raw fear broke through Jade’s arrogance. Her hands shaking, she fumbled with her phone and dialed 911. After a chaotic whirlwind, we finally got my mother-in-law to the hospital. Just as she was wheeled into surgery, Leo rushed in. Before I could say a word, Jade burst into tears and threw herself into his arms. “Leo, I was so scared!” 6 Leo wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair. “It’s okay, I’m here now. What happened? Why are we at the hospital? Are you hurt?” I cleared my throat loudly, rolling my eyes. Leo finally noticed me, and he pushed Jade away as if he’d been stung. “Elara… what are you doing here? What’s going on?” I didn’t say anything. Jade shot me a look of pure venom before turning back to Leo, her voice choked with sobs. “This afternoon, Ms. Reid told me her mother was coming for dinner. But a few minutes after she started eating, she just… collapsed. It was like she was poisoned.” “I was terrified! I wanted to call an ambulance, but Ms. Reid wouldn’t let me! She said… she said she was the one who poisoned her, and that she was going to frame me for murder!” The story was riddled with holes, but after a moment’s thought, Leo actually bought it. He looked from the glowing “SURGERY IN PROGRESS” sign to me, his face a mask of accusation. “Elara, if you have a problem, we can talk about it. Why do you have to be so cruel?” “You don’t like Jade, fine! But does that mean you have to destroy her life? I don’t even recognize you anymore. How did you become this person?” I gave him a look of utter disbelief. “Are you an idiot? Can’t you hear how she’s twisting everything? Fine. I’m calling the police. Let them figure out who the cruel one really is.” At the mention of the police, Jade’s face went pale. She swayed on her feet and collapsed dramatically into Leo’s arms. He scooped her up. “If you call the police, I’ll testify for Jade. It would be better for everyone if you just let this go.” “I’m sure your mother is a strong woman. She’ll be fine.” With that, he turned and carried Jade away. I glanced at the operating room one last time and followed them out. If her own son didn’t care, there was no reason for the daughter-in-law she despised to stick around. 7 I went home early the next morning to find Leo and Jade on the sofa. They must have thought I’d be at the hospital all night, because they were locked in a passionate kiss. The sight of it made my skin crawl. “Am I interrupting something?” I asked loudly. “Or are your lips just stuck together?” Leo shot up from the sofa. “Elara! You’re back? Why aren’t you at the hospital with your mother?” He didn’t even try to explain. Instead, he asked, “Is she out of danger already?” Jade added in a quavering voice, “I knew it. Ms. Reid was just trying to scare me. She’d never actually poison her own mother.” I shot Leo a withering glare. “Jade fainted, so I brought her back here. I was just about to head back to the hospital to be with you when you showed up. You misunderstood what you saw. We were just…” I held up a hand. “Stop. Save the excuses. I’m not interested. I already know everything. Jade gave me a very… detailed explanation.” Jade leaned against Leo, a picture of shy affection. “Leo, Ms. Reid said she’s willing to step aside so we can be together.” Before Leo could respond, I tossed a file onto the coffee table. “Sign it. Then you and Jade can live happily ever after.” I suppose I had been too good to Leo over the years. He’d started to believe he was indispensable, the true master of the house. He scoffed, “Alright, stop the drama. I was just angry last night. I can’t believe you’d do something so crazy just to get Jade fired.” “But I’ve had time to think. I’m sorry, okay?” he said, adding a clumsy lie. “And just now, I was just giving Jade CPR. Don’t get the wrong idea. I only see her as a little sister. You’ll always be my wife.” 8 The smile on Jade’s face cracked. She couldn’t understand why Leo was refusing to divorce me. She gritted her teeth and played along. “Yes, Ms. Reid, you misunderstood. There’s nothing going on between me and Leo. I was just foolishly in love with him, but… his heart belongs to you. I’ll leave. I wish you both… a long and happy life together.” Leo looked heartbroken. I was done with their little play. I waved a hand, and my lawyer, who had been waiting by the door, stepped inside. He adjusted his glasses, placed the divorce papers in front of Leo, and explained patiently, “Mr. Reid, Ms. Reid has made her decision. Refusing to sign is pointless. Frankly, divorcing now is your best option.” “If this gets any messier, your reputation will be ruined.” The lawyer paused for effect. “Furthermore… Jade was aware that… the old madam had a severe allergy and still knowingly served her food containing that allergen. That constitutes attempted murder. However, Ms. Reid has stated that if you sign these papers, she will not press charges.” I gave my lawyer a mental thumbs-up. He’d phrased it perfectly—vague enough to threaten them both without revealing that the victim was Leo’s own mother. If Leo knew that, he’d never agree to the divorce. Leo glared at me, his jaw tight. After a long, tense moment, he snatched the pen and signed his name. “You’ll regret this, Elara. I swear you will.” We went straight to the courthouse and had the divorce finalized on the spot. Jade was practically vibrating with joy. She was trying to maintain her delicate persona, but she was failing. “Ms. Reid, now that the papers are signed, please remove your belongings from the Reid residence. Leo and I would prefer not to see any of your things when we get home.” I looked over the divorce certificate, making sure everything was in order. Then I smiled. “Me, leave? Why would I leave my own house?” 9 Jade froze. “Leo, did you even read the divorce papers before you signed? Did she trick you?” The reality of the situation finally seemed to hit Leo. He looked dazed, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually divorced. I took a deep breath. “Jade, if you’d bothered to learn anything about your employer, you’d know that this isn’t the ‘Reid residence.’ It’s the home of the Hale family. And the man you thought was the master of the house? He was just the man who married the heiress.” Jade’s eyes went wide. She stood there, mouth agape, completely stunned. Leo quickly put an arm around her. “It’s okay, Jade. I may not be as rich as her, but I have a good income, and my feelings for you are real.” Jade’s expression softened. She probably remembered that Leo was, at least, handsome and talented. “That’s right,” she said quickly. “I love you for you, not for your money.” Leo puffed out his chest, looking smug. He sneered at me. “People like you, with nothing but money in your head, could never understand what true love is.” I was about to respond when my lawyer leaned in and whispered, “Mrs. Hale called. She said she couldn’t reach you, so she called my office. She asked if you could call her back when you’re free.” Leo’s smug expression vanished. “What? That’s impossible. I just called the hospital. They told me your mother is in the ICU. They said even if she survives, she’ll be in a vegetative state. How could she be calling you?” A sly look crossed Jade’s face. “Leo, it’s a trick! She’s the one who was cheating! She and her mother cooked up this whole scheme so she could divorce you. I told you I was framed!” Understanding dawned on Leo’s face, followed by pure fury as he thought of the billions he’d just lost. “You bitch!” he roared. “You and your mother are both bitches! Jade was too kind to you! She should’ve just poisoned you both and been done with it!” I just shook my head. “Don’t worry. My mother is perfectly fine, enjoying her trip abroad. The person currently lying in the ICU… is my former mother-in-law. Your mother.”

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After my boyfriend’s sister was raped and took her own life, I learned the truth. And I said nothing. His parents knelt before me, begging, but I turned them away with a cold heart. When reporters came to my door, I chased them off with a kitchen knife. But my boyfriend, Ross, didn’t leave me. Against his family’s furious objections, he married me. And after we were married, he tormented me day after day. He brought men to our home, forcing me to experience what his sister went through, over and over again. … Six years later, my body finally reached its breaking point. Using his family’s immense wealth, he subjected me to a Memory Trial. “Tina, you’re not even human! Do you have any idea how good Lila was to you? How could you do this to her?!” I lay on the medical bed, a ventilator breathing for me. My body was too heavy, too broken, to even attempt a rebuttal. “Stop playing the victim! You protected a monster. Everything that’s happened to you, you deserve it!” The machine that would extract my memories was being connected. I looked at Ross, shaking my head with all the strength I had left, my eyes welling with tears. Ross sneered. “Don’t waste your energy. So you feel regret now? It’s too late. Think of the suffering Lila went through! Why didn’t you speak?! You deserve to die.” He leaned in closer, his voice a venomous whisper. “They say the pain from this memory extractor is worse than being electrocuted. Today, you’re going to experience it firsthand.” Ross had staged my trial in the city’s Grand Auditorium. Twenty thousand people filled the seats, and the entire event was being broadcast live across the nation. The case of Lila Cole had been a national sensation, a story that shocked and horrified everyone. The police had given it top priority, but with my steadfast silence, the investigation stalled. Her death was officially ruled a suicide. Ross’s parents were here. When Ross and I married, they’d had a bitter falling out and had cut him off completely. But now, knowing their son was doing all this for his deceased sister, their hearts were filled with a complex, bitter grief. Mrs. Cole pointed a trembling finger at me, her voice cracking with rage. “You worthless bitch! You curse! All these years, and you still won’t tell us who that animal was! Did a dog eat your conscience?!” Mr. Cole supported his wife. The loss of their daughter, followed by their son’s marriage to me—the woman who knew the truth and said nothing—had aged them decades. Lila was their adopted daughter, but they had raised her as their own flesh and blood since she was a baby. Ross and I started dating in high school. Lila was still in middle school then, a bright, bubbly girl who would follow me around, playfully calling me “sis.” Ross had always let her get away with it. The audience below the stage seethed with righteous anger. Someone hurled an egg, and it splattered across my forehead, the foul-smelling yolk dripping into my eyes. To ensure the trial could proceed, Ross had security calm the crowd. The moment the machine switched on, it felt like a thousand needles were piercing my skin, my scalp. My pupils dilated in shock, and broken, whimpering sounds escaped my lips. The pain wracked my already shattered body, making everything worse. Ross stood nearby, a cold smile on his face, watching my struggles without a flicker of sympathy. A doctor, fearing I would pass out, prepared a syringe with a painkiller. Ross snatched it from his hand and replaced it with a powerful stimulant. “Sir, a dose this strong… her body might not be able to handle it. After the trial, she could…” Ross cut him off. “Use this.” As the stimulant flooded my system, the sharpest edges of the pain receded, replaced by a buzzing, frantic energy. Memories churned in my mind, a chaotic storm set to the soundtrack of the crowd’s curses and jeers. On the massive screen above, my memories began to play. The first image was of Ross. He was sitting with his back to me in a memorial hall. It was for Lila. The hall was draped in white mourning cloths. A large photograph of Lila sat in the center of the room. The girl in the photo had a brilliant, open smile, but the black-and-white of the portrait made it feel jarringly wrong. Lilies rested on her casket, which was surrounded by a sea of daisies. They were her favorite flowers. In the memory, Ross was a shadow of his former self, gaunt and withered. The scene played out from my perspective. I walked forward, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He violently shrugged it off. The words I wanted to say caught in my throat. He whipped around, grabbing a fistful of my hair and dragging me toward Lila’s casket. “You’re hurting me, Ross.” I clawed at his hand, trying to pry his fingers loose, my feet scrambling for purchase. He didn’t let up, throwing me to the floor in front of the coffin. My forehead struck the sharp corner, and I felt the warm trickle of blood. “What right do you have to be here? How dare you show your face to her?!” “When the police questioned you, why didn’t you say anything?! The security cameras caught you there! Who are you protecting?!” I trembled, looking at the rage in his eyes, but I remained silent. The image on the screen blurred. The audience grew more agitated. “She’s putting on a show! Trying to make us feel sorry for her by showing us Ross’s anger. What a manipulative bitch!” “Someone like her should just die!” Amid the roaring insults, the scene shifted. This time, it was our wedding. The announcement of our marriage had stunned the city. All of Lila’s friends had turned on Ross, spitting his name, saying he had forgotten how his sister died to marry such a venomous woman. On the way to the chapel, our limousine was vandalized by a masked group of people demanding justice for Lila. But after that, the day proceeded without any major hitches. I think, on that day, I must have been happy. It was my own naivety. I actually believed what Ross had told me. There were hardly any guests. The few of Ross’s employees who did show up were only there because he’d forced them to be. But still, in that moment, I felt a surge of happiness. On the screen, a single tear from my memory-self fell onto our wedding rings. I looked up, and Ross was smiling gently at me. We had no officiant; the ceremony was simple. But for me, it was enough. I knew he didn’t want a life with me, to grow old together. The scene cut abruptly. I saw myself in our basement, my hands cuffed tightly above my head. Ross sat in a chair nearby. The warmth was gone from his eyes, replaced by an icy resolve. “What are you hiding?” I closed my eyes, a tear tracing a path down my temple. “If you won’t talk, I’ll make you understand real pain.” His voice was like an icicle piercing my heart. He lit a cigarette. When it was half-smoked, he pressed the glowing end into my skin. My own scream was drowned out by the sickening stench of scorched flesh. A wave of dizziness washed over me. I didn’t know if it was from weakness or something else, but in the real world, I could almost feel the phantom touch of that cigarette against my skin again. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. The insults from the crowd were vile, but they were nothing. Compared to what I’d endured over the years, words couldn’t hurt me anymore. Maybe death would be a release. I bit down hard on my own tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “She’s trying to kill herself!” a doctor shouted. Ross, who was sitting right beside me, lunged forward. He clamped his hand around my jaw, forcing my mouth open. A spray of blood choked out of me. “You’d rather die than betray him?!” His eyes were bloodshot, ready to burst, his teeth grinding together. Doctors rushed in to treat the wound on my tongue. The effort had drained the last of my strength. I lay limp on the bed, a doll at their mercy. I managed a weak smile at Ross. It was the spark that reignited his fury, and the crowd’s. “So arrogant! How does a piece of trash like her deserve to live?!” “Go to hell! You piece of shit!” Amid the chaos, the screen changed again. The image was from high school. The desks and chairs were an old, familiar style. I was walking out of a classroom with Ross, my backpack slung over my shoulder. We were heading to the middle school building. We waited at the entrance for a moment before a voice as bright and cheerful as a songbird called out. “Bro! Sis! I’m here!” Lila came bouncing toward us, her own backpack bouncing on her shoulders, and linked her arm through mine. I casually pulled a lollipop from my pocket and handed it to her. “I knew it! You’re the best, sis!” Lila beamed. “Don’t be silly,” I chided, my cheeks flushing. A wave of sorrow rippled through the audience. Mrs. Cole broke down completely. “Lila… my sweet girl… Why couldn’t you just tell us who the monster was?! Why couldn’t you let her rest in peace?! My poor baby!” Her cries turned to choked sobs. “You… you deserve a horrible death!” The crowd was visibly moved. Mr. Cole, though a man accustomed to maintaining his composure, couldn’t bear to see his wife in such pain. He pulled her into his arms, murmuring comforting words, but his eyes, fixed on me, were filled with a burning hatred. The memory continued. After school, the three of us went to our secret hideout. It was in an old, abandoned park not far from the school, with a little creek running through it. We had pitched a small tent there. Almost no one knew about it. We’d often bring snacks and have small barbecues there. A collective gasp went through the auditorium. This was the place. This was where it happened to Lila. When the case was semi-public, this location was mentioned in the news as police searched for clues. But the place had been derelict for too long; they found nothing. Watching the screen, Ross began to weep. “It’s all my fault,” he choked out. “If I hadn’t taken her to that place, none of this would have happened.” Then his grief curdled back into rage. He turned on me. “Lila adored you! How could you be so heartless?! Is your heart made of stone?!” He slammed his fists against the metal guardrail of my bed, as if the violence could expel the fury inside him. His tears fell onto my hand, hot and stinging. “I… I tried my best, Ross,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Your best? You protected a criminal! You helped him escape justice! That’s against the law!” he roared, losing control. I closed my eyes, picturing the girl with the sun-drenched smile, a smile so warm it could melt glaciers. “Mr. Cole—” One of the doctors started to speak, then hesitated. Ross shot him a look so cold it made the man shiver. “Speak.” “It seems… she’s actively resisting. She’s trying to block that specific memory.” A humorless smile stretched across Ross’s face. “Good. Very good.” “Then increase the voltage. Let’s see just how tough she really is.” The doctor hesitated, but he obeyed. A powerful current shot through my skull, my limbs. My body began to go numb. I was losing feeling. I knew I didn’t have much time left. I clenched my jaw, refusing to make a sound. “Who are you protecting?!” Ross’s voice was a raw, desperate roar. I opened my eyes. Tears blurred my vision, and for a moment, through him, I thought I could see the bright, cheerful boy he used to be. “I… I can’t say,” I rasped. Ross’s face darkened. He stood up and loomed over me. “You don’t have to. I have my ways. The pain Lila felt was a thousand times worse than this. What you’re feeling is nothing.” I closed my eyes again, praying silently. Please, let this end soon. As the voltage increased again, my body spasmed, on the verge of shutting down. A doctor plunged a needle into my arm—a shot of adrenaline. The numbness vanished, replaced by an agony that felt like being crushed under a steamroller. Cold sweat soaked the sheets beneath me. Ross watched it all with detached cruelty. He was going to get the truth today, no matter the cost. He was going to get justice for Lila. “You brought this on yourself, Tina.” “You’ve denied Lila peace for six years. You owe her this.” Then, just as I felt my consciousness slipping away, the screen flickered back to life. The scene was a dark basement. I was huddled in a corner. The door was kicked open. Several grotesque-looking men walked in. The last person to enter was Ross. “Are you sure you won’t talk?” “Some of them are… sick. I’m giving you one last chance.” I shook my head frantically, tears streaming down my face. “No, it’s not that. I really can’t say. Ross, please, believe me. There’s a reason.” He strode forward and grabbed my chin, his grip like steel. “What reason could possibly be more important than Lila’s life?! Tell me!” “Fine. If you won’t talk, then let them take good care of you.” He turned and walked out, leaving me alone with them. No matter how much I screamed his name, he didn’t look back.

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1 It was my twentieth New Year’s Eve, and like every year before, my parents were too busy with work to celebrate with me. I went to watch the fireworks alone, and that’s when I saw them. With another girl. They took her to a lavish seafood dinner. They bought her a million-dollar necklace. They gifted her a brand-new Lamborghini. And the way they looked at her—it was pure, unadulterated adoration. I heard them cooing, “Crystal, you’re more our daughter than our own flesh and blood.” “You’re the child we love the most.” Then, she turned and her eyes met mine across the crowd. A provocative smirk played on her lips. The simple warmth of the roasted sweet potato in my hands turned to ash. I looked down at my own outfit, a collection of thrift-store finds that probably cost less than ten dollars, and a bitter, acidic feeling churned in my stomach. … I ran home like a fugitive, burrowing under my covers and sobbing into my pillow. In a fit of grief, I hurled the only teddy bear I owned across the room. It was a gift for my eighth birthday—the only gift I’d received in twenty years. I cherished it, holding it every night as I slept, because my mother had sewn it by hand. I remembered that time. She had stayed up late every night, her fingers pricked and bleeding, sometimes even skipping meals to finish it. Seeing her sacrifice hurt me, so I learned to be a good, undemanding daughter. Ever since elementary school, I’d collected bottles after class to make a little extra money. In college, I lived on a diet of plain rice and water, my clothes a patchwork of repairs. I ignored the whispers and the jokes from other students. I held my parents’ words in my heart like a mantra: “We’re a poor family, Ava. Every penny counts.” But tonight, I learned the truth. My parents weren’t poor. They were supporting a secret princess, showering her with a life of endless luxury. I didn’t sleep at all, my tears soaking through my pillow. My mind reeled, unable to make sense of any of it. “Ava, time to get up.” “The sun’s already high in the sky, sleepyhead.” I heard my parents’ voices from the living room. I wiped my eyes and walked out of my room. Seeing them back in their usual faded, worn-out clothes felt surreal, like I was in a dream. “Ava, we brought you something from the company dinner last night. It’s all shrimp and crab.” My mother handed me a takeout container. Any other time, I would have danced with joy, thrown my arms around her neck, and rushed to heat up the food. This time, I didn’t move. I remembered the seafood restaurant. I remembered Crystal. It hit me like a punch to the gut. Every New Year’s Day, the special meal my mother brought me was probably Crystal’s leftovers. Who was their real daughter? “And I’ve got cookies and candy for you,” my father said, pulling a handful from his coat pocket. “Just as sweet as my best girl.” Crystal’s rejects, no doubt. And I was the fool who had treasured these crumbs every year, basking in the glow of their fake warmth. Noticing my unusual silence, my mother pulled me into a hug, studying my face. “Ava, you seem off today.” “Your eyes are so red, and you look pale. Are you getting sick?” How could my eyes not be red after crying all night? My vision was still blurry. “Come on, Ava, I’m taking you to the doctor,” my father said, already on his feet. He hadn’t even had a sip of water, yet he was frantic with worry. They were always so gentle. They had always cared for me so deeply. I remembered a winter night when I had a high fever. It was pouring rain outside. My father wrapped me in a blanket, held me tight, and ran all the way to the hospital. Not a single drop of rain touched me. He was soaked to the bone, shivering violently from the cold, but his only concern was for me. And this same loving father had been lying to me for twenty years. Raising me in poverty. Showering Crystal with wealth. The thought made a fresh wave of grief wash over me, and I started crying again. My parents panicked, asking what was wrong, if someone had bullied me. I shook my head and said, deliberately, “I went to see the fireworks by myself last night. I saw a beautiful girl with her parents. They bought her so many wonderful things.” My voice broke. “But I was all alone. I’ve been all alone for so many years.” My parents exchanged a look. A flicker of panic crossed their faces. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. My mother’s eyes reddened, and she squeezed out a few tears, pulling me tighter. “Oh, Ava,” she said, her voice thick with guilt. “It’s our fault. We’re useless. We can’t give you a life of luxury, and we’re always too busy with work to be with you.” Before, her tears would have made me rush to comfort her. Now, all I saw was a masterful performance, one that had fooled me for two decades. Too busy with work? Or too busy taking care of Crystal? “Ava.” My father took on his familiar role as the wise educator. “We may be poor, but we have our pride. There’s no need to be envious of others.” I wasn’t envious of others. I was envious of Crystal—the adopted daughter who was treated better than their own. “Okay, okay, let’s not talk about this. I’ll go heat up your food,” my mother said, changing the subject. She warmed up the seafood, but even though it was a delicacy I’d never had before, I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. I just picked at my plain rice. “Ava, why aren’t you eating the shrimp and crab?” “You’re still growing! You need proper nutrition.” They started shelling the shrimp and picking out the crab meat for me, filling my bowl. But the food tasted like cardboard. Their hypocrisy was suffocating. They preached about nutrition while spending all their money on Crystal. The irony was sickening. After the meal, I took a deep breath. “I want a new computer.” It was the first time I had ever asked for anything. The laptop I used for my university classes was a second-hand clunker I’d bought for fifty dollars. It froze every time I tried to open a document. But I’d never dared to ask for a new one, terrified of adding to our financial burden. In fact, any money I made from part-time jobs, I gave to my mother to help pay off our supposed “debts.” My father sighed heavily. “Ava, can you just make do with the one you have? We still haven’t paid off all our debts.” “Yes, Ava, please don’t be difficult. Once you graduate and get a job, you can save up and buy one yourself,” my mother added, her face a mask of weary concern. Of course. This was exactly what I expected. A chill crept through me as the scene from last night replayed in my mind. A sports car, a diamond necklace, millions of dollars spent without a second thought. But a computer for their own daughter, a simple tool for her education, was too much to ask. Sensing my despair, my father sat down beside me, forcing a smile. “Hey, honey, how about we all go to the movies tonight?” “Yes, that’s a great idea! We’ll even get you a big bucket of popcorn,” my mother chimed in brightly. “Okay,” I said after a moment’s hesitation. Spending a holiday with my parents had always been my deepest wish. They both let out a visible sigh of relief. Just then, my father’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted. He exchanged another one of those looks with my mother. “Oh, shoot. That’s Mr. Henderson. He wants to meet to discuss a work issue.” “Ava, you stay here, okay? And don’t go out. There are a lot of strange people around during the holidays.” With that hurried instruction, they rushed out the door. A work issue? Really? A knot of suspicion tightened in my gut. I slipped out of the house and followed them, just in time to see that familiar Lamborghini pull up. Crystal got out and threw herself into my mother’s arms. The gesture was so practiced, so much more natural than my own hugs ever were. A doting smile spread across my mother’s face. My father, however, put on a stern expression. “I told you not to come here! Why did you disobey me?” Too late. The secret was already out. “But I missed you!” Crystal whined, pulling out a set of movie tickets. “Mom, Dad, please come to the movies with me tonight? The last time we went was two months ago.” My parents hesitated, glancing at each other. Sensing their reluctance, Crystal pouted. “Daddy, Mommy, am I not your favorite daughter anymore?” “Of course you are! You will always be our favorite,” my mother said instantly. “Is it because Ava wanted you to spend time with her?” Crystal asked, blinking her big, innocent eyes. “If so, that’s okay, you should go. I don’t mind.” Her saccharine, manipulative tone made my skin crawl. “That’s not it at all,” my mother denied quickly. “We have a client meeting today. You go home first, and we’ll see if we have time tonight.” “That’s right,” my father added. “If we’re free, I’ll call you.” “Okay, then,” Crystal said, her lip trembling as she disappeared back into her car. I felt sick to my stomach, but I didn’t confront them. I went back home and pretended nothing had happened. I wanted to see who they would choose tonight. I didn’t even bother to fix myself up. Usually, when I went out with them, I would wash my hair, maybe put on a little perfume. That evening, my father came to me. “Ava, the company just called. Your mom and I have to go in and work overtime tonight, so…” “It’s fine. You should go,” I said, cutting him off. “Okay, then. Be a good girl and go to bed early.” “There are some noodles in the kitchen. If you get hungry, you can make some for yourself.” They breathed another sigh of relief and hurried away. I watched them go, tears streaming down my face. In the end, they chose their adopted daughter over their real one. All I wanted was one evening. Just one. Was that too much to ask? Why were they doing this to me? I stormed into my room and pulled out the box of birthday cards they had given me over the years. “Ava, we hope your new year is filled with joy. We love you!” “Ava, another year older! Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Health and happiness are what matter most.” “Our Ava is the most beautiful, most thoughtful girl in the world! You’re our little angel.” These cards were my only birthday presents. I had treasured them because they were filled with their love for me. But it was all fake. I tore the cards to shreds. Then I tore up every academic award, every certificate of achievement I had ever earned. I had worked so hard, spending every spare moment in the library, even turning down a chance to study abroad just so I could stay close to them, find a good job, and improve our family’s life. Now, all that effort felt like a bitter joke. Another sleepless night. Another night spent crying. But somewhere in the darkness, a thought crystallized in my mind. I needed to live for myself. The next morning, I called my academic advisor. “Professor Davis, is that spot for the overseas study program still available?” “Yes, yes! We were hoping you’d say yes!” Professor Davis sounded thrilled. “You’re my most brilliant student, Ava. This opportunity will open so many doors for you.” “And don’t worry about tuition or living expenses,” he added. “The university will take care of everything.” Hearing his words, a wave of genuine warmth washed over me. “Thank you, Professor,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. Just as I hung up, my parents returned. “Ava, come and see what we brought you!” I walked out of my bedroom. It was a caramel apple, my childhood favorite. “Ava, we’re so sorry about last night,” my mother said, placing the apple in my hand and stroking my hair. “We have to go on a business trip, but when we get back, I promise we’ll take you to the movies.” “And we’ll buy you two buckets of popcorn!” my father added. “Okay,” I replied, my voice flat. They didn’t seem to notice my detachment, assuming I was being my usual, understanding self. They packed their bags, left me twenty dollars, and rushed out again. “Oh, by the way,” my mother said, popping her head back in the door a minute later. “If any packages arrive while we’re gone, don’t open them, okay?” In the past, I would have been heartbroken to see them leave. This time, I barely noticed. I was too busy filling out my study abroad application. That evening, a local courier delivered a package. I signed for it, but instead of putting it in my parents’ room like I always did, I looked at the sender’s address. Since my mother had specifically warned me not to open it, it was almost certainly from Crystal. After all, she wasn’t allowed to come to our house directly. Before I left, there was one question I needed answered. I had to see this “Crystal” my parents had adopted, to understand what made her so much better than me, so worthy of their love. I went to the address on the package. It was a standalone villa with two bodyguards stationed outside. The main gate was open, and I could clearly see Crystal inside, playing a grand piano. She was dressed in designer clothes, the picture of elegance. The contrast between her and my own shabby appearance was stark. Even the bodyguards looked at me like I was a beggar. “Go beg somewhere else.” “This isn’t the place for you! Get lost!” they snarled, trying to shoo me away. But I stood my ground, my eyes fixed on the scene inside. Crystal noticed me. Her hands lifted from the keys, and she rose gracefully. “It’s alright,” she told the guards. “Let her in.” I stepped into the villa. The opulent decor, the soaring ceilings—I thought of my own tiny room, barely big enough for a single bed, and a fresh wave of bitterness washed over me. “You’ve always thought you lived a happy life, haven’t you?” Crystal began, her voice dripping with condescension. “Your teachers, your classmates—they all probably told you what loving parents you have.” It was true. My whole life, up until a few days ago, I had believed I was the luckiest girl in the world. “But from where I stand, your happiness is a joke.” A smirk played on her lips. “Look at this house. This piano. Look at the clothes I’m wearing, the jewelry I own.” “Everything is custom-made. And what have they given you? Scraps. Leftovers.” “Oh, and by the way,” she added, twisting the knife. “Every time they had to ‘work overtime,’ they were with me.” Her words were like daggers, piercing my heart. My eyes started to burn. “But… I’m a good student. I’m a good daughter,” I stammered, looking at her, lost. “Why… why…” “Because you’re plain and you have no class!” she laughed out loud. “You’re not beautiful and sophisticated like me. I’m the kind of daughter who makes them proud, who reflects well on them.” Her voice turned pitying. “The only reason they even keep you around is because they feel sorry for you. Guilt.” “I remember them saying you were born all wrinkled and ugly. You never really grew out of it, did you? A lost cause.” “They also said you have no social skills and a weak personality.” Her words hit me like physical blows. I stumbled backward, nearly falling. It was true. I was ordinary-looking, thin and unassuming. I was awkward in conversation, lacking her effortless grace. But my professor once told me: when you lose in life, do not lose your composure. I choked back my tears. “Fine. If they love you so much, I won’t fight for them anymore.” “I don’t care about being their precious heiress.” I turned and walked away. Behind me, I could hear Crystal’s triumphant laughter, but it couldn’t touch me anymore. With my parents gone for the next few days, I finalized my travel arrangements. Before I left, I wrote a farewell letter. It was the last act of a dutiful daughter. Two weeks later, my parents returned from their trip. They changed back into their old clothes and pushed open the front door with cheerful smiles. “Ava, my sweet girl, Mommy’s home!” “Daddy brought you some snacks! I know my little foodie will love them.” But there was no reply. I wasn’t there to run into their arms, shouting, “Welcome home! You must be tired!” I wasn’t there to bring them water or massage their shoulders. There was only a letter, lying silently on the table. My father frowned as he picked it up and tore it open. “By the time you read this, I will be far away.” “Crystal is beautiful and elegant. She can be the face of your family, and I understand why you would favor her. But I don’t think I’m worthless.” “So, I am going to pursue my own dreams.” “Don’t worry about me. And don’t try to find me.” I didn’t list my grievances. When you’ve been hurt enough, you stop feeling the need to complain. My father’s face went white. “Oh, no.” “Ava’s gone!” “She knows about Crystal…”

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Three years. Three years of trying to win over Evelyn Reed. And I was still listening to the system drone, “Affinity: one percent.” I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. “There are so many amazing women around me. Why am I stuck on Evelyn?” I grumbled to the void. “It’s like staring at a feast I’m not allowed to touch.” To my surprise, the system sounded even more shocked than I was. “You can scroll through the target list, you know.” “You… didn’t know that?” 1 I stared blankly at the system interface. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you say so sooner?” “You never asked. I just figured Evelyn was your type.” A bitter taste filled my mouth. Evelyn Reed was the youngest attending physician at the hospital. Stunningly beautiful, with an aura as cold and distant as a winter morning. She was a glacier, gorgeous and unthawable. In the three years we’d been “dating,” I doubt she’d said more than fifty words to me in total. My fingers scrambled to swipe on the target list. It scrolled. And scrolled. There were over twenty more pages. For three years, I had turned what was supposed to be a harem-building game into a painfully slow-burn, one-sided romance. Anyone watching would have thought I was her number one, die-hard fan. It all started when I was on my deathbed. The system bonded with me, giving me a new lease on life, but I started with only a hundred dollars to my name. “Every affinity point translates directly to cash in your account,” the system had explained. “One point is a thousand dollars.” The cap was ten thousand points. Three years! My bank account had never broken a thousand bucks. God only knows how I survived. My phone buzzed, the screen flashing “Evelyn.” Her voice, cool and clipped, came through the speaker. “Working late.” My response was pure reflex. “Should I bring you dinner?” The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. Old habits die hard. I expected a swift rejection, but after a pause, she replied, “If you want.” So, of course, I went. I bought her favorite meal and headed to the hospital. I had held onto hope for Evelyn so many times, just like this. And every time, I told myself this would be the last chance I gave her. I could find Evelyn’s office with my eyes closed. As a senior physician, she had her own. But when I got there, the room was empty. I spotted one of the nurses at the duty station. “Excuse me, is Dr. Reed in surgery?” I was a familiar face on this floor, a regular delivery boy for Evelyn. But today, the nurse’s expression was… awkward. She tried to hide it, but I could see the pity in her eyes. “N-no, she’s not.” She subtly pointed down the adjacent hallway. “Dr. Reed might be on her rounds. Maybe you could check there?” I did a full circuit of the floor, meal container in hand, but Evelyn was nowhere to be found. Just as I was about to call her, a clear voice drifted from the nearby stairwell. “Dr. Reed, when can I finally call you my boyfriend?” The name froze me in my tracks. Evelyn’s reply was muffled by the door. “That depends on your performance.” The stairwell door was cracked open just enough for me to see. Evelyn was leaning lazily against the wall, a picture of casual indifference. Standing before her was a young male nurse, his head bowed as he leaned in to kiss her. One of Evelyn’s hands was tucked into the pocket of her white coat; the other rested lightly on the nurse’s waist. She watched him, neither responding nor pulling away. “Dr. Reed,” the nurse murmured against her lips, “won’t your boyfriend be angry?” Evelyn’s gaze drifted up, and her eyes met mine through the crack in the door. Her reply was meant for him, but her words were aimed squarely at me. “Would he dare?” My knuckles whitened around the bag’s handle. I pushed the door open. The nurse jumped back, startled, and tried to hide behind Evelyn. I ignored him, my eyes locked on her. Evelyn met my gaze without a flicker of emotion. “Evelyn,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Is this why you called me here? For a show?” She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the tip glowing in the dim light. She took a long drag, then flicked the ash to the floor before letting the cigarette dangle from her lips. The ash drifted down, and my heart sank with it. It finally hit me. Not with the cold, digital finality of a system notification, but with a raw, gut-wrenching certainty. She didn’t love me. It had all been in my head. “This is boring.” She exhaled a cloud of smoke in my face, her voice flat. “Leo, you’re just so incredibly boring.” She finished the cigarette, stubbed it out in a nearby bin, and slung an arm around the nurse’s shoulders, moving to brush past me. “Evelyn,” I called out, stopping her. “This is the last meal I’ll ever bring you.” I added, with a bitter laugh, “Not that you’d ever eat it, anyway.” I dropped the food container into the trash can, right next to her dead cigarette. A fitting goodbye. This time, I didn’t watch her leave. I turned my back first. Evelyn’s brow furrowed. She stepped in front of me, blocking the door. “Where are you going?” I pushed her hand away. “We’re done. It’s none of your business.” She let out a short, sharp scoff. As I walked away, I heard the nurse ask her, “Aren’t you going to go after him, Dr. Reed?” And Evelyn’s voice, draped in its usual icy calm: “He’ll come crawling back when he’s done with his tantrum.” Like hell, I thought. I never go back. Just then, a message popped up on my phone. [Hey, Leo! Are you free tonight? There’s some lab data I could really use your help with.] It was from Lily, a junior in my department. I typed back: [Give me half an hour. I’m on my way.] Half an hour later, I was in the lab. Lily peeked out from behind a computer monitor. “Leo! You made it!” She had an innocent, puppy-dog face, framed by wavy chestnut hair. Every word she spoke seemed to end with a cheerful lilt. I walked over. “What’s the problem?” She pointed at a string of figures on the screen, looking utterly defeated. “I’ve run the calculations a dozen times, and it’s still not working.” I scanned the data. “You’re using the wrong constant here. You can’t just plug that one in directly.” Lily’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! That explains everything! You’re amazing, Leo. You saw it right away.” I chuckled. “I’ve just worked with this experiment a lot.” She blinked her big, doe-like eyes at me. “Still, you saved me! As a thank you, let me buy you dinner?” I hesitated for a second, but then the system’s voice chimed in. 【New Target: Lily.】 【Affinity: 100.】 【First-time 100 Affinity achievement unlocked. System Reward: Five Million Dollars.】 Simultaneously, my phone pinged with a bank alert: [Deposit: $5,100,000.00. Current Balance: $5,100,012.50.] My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Three years. The floodgates had finally opened. To hesitate now would be a profound disrespect to money itself. “Sure,” I said, my voice smoother than I felt. “Let’s go. I haven’t eaten yet.” Lily’s face lit up, surprised by my quick agreement. “There’s a new Sichuan place that just opened near campus. How about we try that?” “Sounds good.” As I turned to leave, I didn’t see her flip over the lab report she’d had sitting face-down on the desk. The data on it was identical to the corrected version I had just given her. Fueled by a newfound sense of civic duty—taking from the rich (the system) and giving to the people (local restaurants)—I had fully intended to pay. But Lily had sneakily settled the bill while I wasn’t looking. During the meal, I noticed she had a dimple that appeared whenever she smiled at me. It was ridiculously sweet. The food was great, and by the end of it, my affinity with her had netted me a few hundred thousand more. I’d almost forgotten what it felt to have money. The last three years with Evelyn had been a miserable, penny-pinching existence. “Oh, this table is free! Dr. Reed, let’s sit here.” Speak of the devil. A few feet away, the same male nurse was holding Evelyn’s hand, guiding her to a table. Her gaze was locked on me, heavy and dark. “What’s wrong, Leo?” Lily asked, looking up from her bowl like a curious hamster. I tore my eyes away from Evelyn, shrugging nonchalantly. “Nothing. Just some nobody.” I tried to ignore them, but Evelyn couldn’t stand it. She stalked over to our table, her usual calm facade cracking to reveal a simmering anger beneath. She stood beside me, her voice sharp. “Leo, is this what your ‘love’ for me looks like? One thing to my face, another behind my back? Don’t tell me you were secretly seeing other women the entire time we were together.”

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Caleb and I were at City Hall, one photo away from being legally married when his phone rang. He took the call and left. Just like that. Left me standing alone at the marriage license counter, trapped between moving forward and turning back. I called him. No answer. I texted him. No reply. Finally, I had to find the number for his childhood friend, Leah, and dial it. Caleb picked up. “Karen, can you stop being so damn annoying? Leah sprained her ankle. I’m taking care of her today. Stop calling and waking her up. We’ll just have to reschedule the wedding.” I bit my lip, my voice a low murmur. “Including this time, we’ve rescheduled seven times.” “So what? City Hall isn’t going anywhere. It’s not like it’s going to disappear!” My face was a mask of calm, but inside, a familiar blade twisted in my gut. The clerk looked at me with pity. “Ma’am, are you still proceeding?” I nodded slowly. “Yes. I am.” 1 I called my best friend Zoe’s older brother and accepted his offer. After hanging up, I asked the clerk to hold my spot for a little while. Before the numbness could fully set in, Ryder arrived. He pulled up on a sleek, powerful motorcycle. The moment he strode in, helmet under his arm, all eyes in the office snapped to him. He walked right up to me and dropped into the chair beside mine, crossing his long legs. A teasing smile played on his lips. “So, you finally came to your senses? Ready to fake-marry me to get your family off your back?” I gave a small, tight nod. But it wasn’t just about appeasing my family. The most important thing was giving my grandfather peace of mind before he was gone. Six months ago, his health had taken a sharp decline. He was in the hospital day in and day out, and every time I visited, he’d ask when I was getting married. He wanted to see me in a wedding dress. He wanted to see me walk down the aisle. He said that way, even after he was gone, he’d know someone was there to love and protect me. That’s why I’d been pushing Caleb to get married for the past six months. We had come to City Hall seven times, and every single time, something had come up, and we had left without a license. Last time, it was because Leah was on her period, and the cramps were so bad he had to rush home to make her some tea and bring her a heating pad. The time before that, Leah had lost her keys and was locked out, so he had to go let her in. And the time before that, Leah was hungry and craving pho from that one specific place on the other side of the city, and he had to go stand in line for her. Seven times. Every single time, it was because of Leah. Every single time, Caleb dropped everything, dropped me, without a second thought. The irony was crushing. I had given him seven chances. And he wouldn’t even spare me the few minutes it would take to snap a photo. Honestly, when Caleb left this time, I wasn’t even that sad. Maybe I was used to it. Maybe I had expected it. But my grandfather’s words from a few weeks ago echoed in my mind. “My sweet Karen, I’m afraid I don’t have much time left. I might not get to see you in your wedding dress. But promise me, even if you’re alone, you’ll live bravely. Don’t let anyone bully you.” I promised him I would be brave. And this time, I wouldn’t back down. Caleb, I gave you your chances. Seven of them. The paperwork with Ryder went smoothly. But just as we were about to have our photo taken, my phone buzzed. A text from Caleb. [Hey, Karen, don’t be mad. I really couldn’t get away this time, but I’ve made your favorite dinner to make it up to you. Come home soon~] Ryder glanced at my screen, his voice laced with lazy amusement. “You still want to go through with this?” I took a deep breath, my expression unreadable. “Yes.” We finished the process and walked out of City Hall, marriage certificate in hand. “Are you busy tomorrow?” I asked Ryder before he left. “There’s something I need you to do with me.” He swung a leg over his bike. “Call me if you need anything. Who knows, in a couple of days, I might need you to play your part for my parents.” And with a roar of the engine, he was gone. Life felt so surreal. Seven years together—four in college, three after—and my relationship with Caleb had crumbled at the finish line. And now I was married to my best friend’s brother, a man I’d only met once before. On the way home, Caleb sent another message, this time with a picture. The dining table was covered with an elaborate spread of food. [Why aren’t you home yet? Dinner’s ready! If you’re late, it’ll all be gone!] He was a man of his word. By the time I walked through the door, the table was a wasteland of empty plates and picked-over dishes. Leah sat there, putting on her best innocent act. “Oh, Karen, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “I was just starving, so I couldn’t wait and started without you.” Even I wasn’t dense enough to miss the challenge in her eyes. A hot rush of anger surged through me. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Leah and Caleb had grown up together. In his eyes, she would always be the priority. It hadn’t always been like this. In the beginning, Caleb and I had a smooth, easy love. We rarely fought, and when we did, he was always the first to apologize, to coax me out of my anger, taking all the blame whether it was his fault or not. Even Zoe used to tell me how lucky I was to have found a man who doted on me so completely. That all ended six months ago. The day Leah came back into his life, his devotion shifted. “Karen, why are you just getting home now? Didn’t I text you a while ago?” Caleb emerged from the kitchen, his brow furrowed in disapproval. He was used to me dropping everything and rushing back the second he messaged. “I got held up,” I said evenly. “What could possibly be more important than dinner?” His tone was flat, but the accusation was clear. I had no intention of telling him about the marriage. If I was leaving, then from this moment on, Caleb was a stranger to me. This trip was just to get my things. “Nothing. Work is sending me on a business trip. I came back to pack.” Without waiting for his reaction, I walked straight to the bedroom. But when I opened the door, I froze. The bed, which I had made perfectly that morning, was a rumpled mess. The closet doors were open, clothes spilling out. I could have ignored all of that. But on the nightstand, the delicate, handcrafted model skyscraper my grandfather had built for me lay in pieces, snapped in half. Tiny fragments littered the floor like fallen stars. Something inside me snapped. “Caleb!” I screamed his name. “Who was in this room? Who broke my things?” He walked in, his expression shifting from a brief frown to one of complete indifference. “It’s just a model,” he said dismissively. “I’ll find someone to glue it back together for you.” I stared at him, stunned. His casual tone felt like a physical blow, telling me in no uncertain terms that I, and the things I cherished, meant nothing to him. And with that sentence, I knew. It had to be Leah. Only she could inspire this level of blind, thoughtless protection from him. “Leah broke it, didn’t she?” I stated it as a fact, my voice devoid of emotion. But my quiet words were a lit match to his short fuse. His face contorted with anger. “Do you have any proof it was Leah?” he snarled. “Maybe it was just unstable and fell on its own! Stop making baseless accusations, Karen. Before you blame her, you’d better have evidence, or I swear I’ll sue you for slander!” I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. He was really going to defend her to the end. I’d said one sentence, and now I was a slanderer. The Caleb from six months ago would never have been like this. I fell in love with him on a rainy night. I’d been in a car accident, and he’d run all the way to me, not even stopping for an umbrella. This man, usually so composed and proper, had completely lost his cool, screaming at the other driver and getting into a fistfight for my sake. What had happened to that man? I didn’t argue further. Just as he’d said, I had no proof. I knelt carefully, picking up the scattered shards, gathering the two broken halves of the tower. Just then, Leah’s pitiful voice drifted from the doorway. She limped into the room. “Caleb, please don’t fight with Karen!” she cried. “Even if I didn’t do it, if she wants to blame me, she can. No one’s ever liked me anyway. It’s normal for her not to like me either.” With that, she deliberately hobbled over and knelt beside me. She planted her foot firmly on one of the larger fragments and twisted her shoe, grinding it into the floor. Then, in a voice so low only I could hear, she whispered, “I did it. So what?” Rage, pure and hot, shot through me. I moved to push her away. But before I even touched her, she threw herself backward, collapsing onto the floor. Her bandaged ankle collided perfectly with the corner of the nightstand. A split second later, she was wailing. “Karen, I was just trying to help!” Before I could process what had happened, Caleb grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. I had never seen him like this. His face was a mask of fury, his eyes blazing with a hatred so intense it felt like he wanted to kill me. “Even if you don’t like her, you don’t have to hurt her like this! She’s injured, for God’s sake!” My hair was pulled so tight I was forced to look up at them, a bitter taste flooding my mouth, my heart feeling like it was being ripped to shreds. “I didn’t even touch her!” A sharp crack echoed in the room as his palm connected with my cheek. A fiery red handprint bloomed instantly on my skin. “You’re still lying? Karen, do you think I’m blind? I was standing right here! I saw the whole thing!” he roared. “First, you falsely accuse her, and now you push her down. I never knew you were such a cruel-hearted, venomous woman!” The air left my lungs. I couldn’t form a single word of defense. In his current state, he wouldn’t believe anything I said anyway. He let go of my hair, looking down at me with cold disgust. “No excuse, right? You’re a toxic bitch, Karen.” He looked at me with such profound disappointment. And in that moment, I felt a strange sense of release. If I’d been holding onto one last sliver of hope, it was gone now. There was only quiet acceptance. No more defending myself. No more struggling to explain. As Caleb scooped Leah into his arms, she shot me a triumphant look over his shoulder, mouthing a single, silent sentence. I understood it perfectly. “You think you can compete with me for him?” If you want him that badly, he’s all yours. Caleb, frantic with worry about Leah’s “re-injured” ankle, rushed her to the hospital. I slowly, unsteadily, got to my feet. The full-length mirror showed my reflection: one side of my face a blazing, angry red. The handprint was starkly visible. I could only imagine the force he had used. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I reached up and wiped away the trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth. This single slap had shattered every last illusion I’d held onto. I took the opportunity to pack. I gathered every piece of clothing, every personal item, and stuffed it all into suitcases. Anything I could take, I took. Anything I couldn’t, I threw in the trash. Before I left, I found a real estate agent and listed the apartment online. It was my apartment. A gift from my grandfather, bought with his retirement savings. It was supposed to be our marital home. Now, there was no reason to keep it. Anything dirty, I threw out. It disgusted me now.

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