I am a Pathological Recorder, assigned to observe and document the budding obsessive tendencies of my stepbrothers. I’m just waiting for the day they finally snap and “go dark” for the heroine. Watching their behavior get crazier, I confidently report to my System: [It won’t be long now. The heroine is about to be imprisoned. The plot is proceeding as scheduled.] Then, one day, the heroine breaks down in tears. “You’re all obsessed with me, but have you ever once considered your sister’s feelings?” Several pairs of eyes, sharp as knives, land on me. “She watches you every day, so desperate for a scrap of affection from her brothers! “Instead of imprisoning me, why don’t you imprison the one person who’s already in love with you? I’m sure,” the heroine said, “that she’d be thrilled.” Everyone was silent for a long, heavy moment. Then my eldest brother, Alex, narrowed his eyes. “That… makes a lot of sense.” Me: ? 1 I dutifully wrote in my notebook: Julian (Third Brother) commissioned a custom-built golden cage. Caleb (Second Brother) acquired a set of antique handcuffs and matching shackles. Alex (First Brother) is having a manor built on a remote, private island. Finished, I leaned back on the sofa, smiling. Just then, Caleb came downstairs. He gave me a weird look. “What are you smiling at? It’s creepy.” My three stepbrothers have never been nice to me. I’m used to it. My gaze drifted to the ornate, velvet-lined silver box in his hands. “That’s a beautiful box, Caleb,” I said, feigning innocence. “What’s in it?” Predictably, his face darkened. He clutched the box tighter. “None of your business.” He stormed out the front door, looking like I’d just uncovered his deepest secret. Tsk. As if I didn’t know. Those were the handcuffs. I mentally pinged my System. [Don’t worry, 101. Based on current projections, the heroine’s imprisonment is imminent. The plot is stable.] The System’s mechanical voice whirred with excitement. [Excellent, Nina. This high-difficulty, high-fluctuation world is finally stabilizing!] I was excited, too. Just then, Julian came out of his room. He had his usual, placid smile, his dimples showing. When he saw me practically vibrating with excitement, he paused. His smile froze. “You…” I stopped, clearing my throat. “Julian,” I said, changing the subject, “I heard you spent a ton of money building something?” His smile faded. He slid a hand into his pocket. “Nina, curiosity is a bad look, ‘little sister’.” So innocent. So fake. I knew he was rotting with dark intentions for the heroine. I shrugged, putting on my own innocent smile. “Okay, brother. Whatever you say.” He looked disgusted, his lip curling. He gave me a cold once-over and turned to leave. “Oh, by the way, Julian,” I called out. “You know what they say. You can’t force love. If it’s not given freely, it’s not really yours.” He stopped. His face went cold. After a beat, he turned, his lips curving. “Sister, it doesn’t have to be freely given. As long as it’s… wet.” Ugh. He’s such a creep. My jab had landed. I just shrugged. “Well, as long as you’re happy.” 2 I was adopted by the Ashford family when I was three. Mrs. Ashford had been told by some mystic that having three sons back-to-back had unbalanced the “spiritual energy” of the house, and they needed a girl to “neutralize” it. That’s me. The neutralizer. I was irrelevant. No one in the Ashford family cared about me. When I was old enough to realize I wasn’t wanted, I started trying to please them. I did Alex’s homework (he was in high school, I was in elementary school). I tried to copy his perfect handwriting. I failed, and he sneered at me for six months. Caleb was a hothead, but he was all bark and no bite. He hated eating at home, so I brought him his lunch at school every day. Eventually, he stopped tripping me in the hallways. Julian, the third brother, looked like an angel but was a total sociopath. Nothing I did worked. He just loved tormenting me. One day, I locked myself in my room and just cried. I heard a click. Julian was standing over me, dangling a set of lockpicks. His voice was melodic, and pure poison. “The only thing you do that makes me happy, Nina… is when you let me play with you.” Play? I was the only one getting bullied! By the time I was in high school, I’d given up. I was dead inside. And that’s when the System activated. It said: [Do you know why no one likes you, no matter how hard you try?] …No. [Because you are an insignificant side character. Your only purpose is to make the heroine jealous, pushing the plot forward with your three stepbrothers.] It was bizarre, but it was also a massive relief. It wasn’t my fault. It was just the script. [But this world is fluctuating wildly. Nina, join the Plot Restoration Team. Your job is to observe your stepbrothers’ pathological behaviors, ensure the plot progresses, and report any deviations.] I hesitated. [We need you, Nina.] No one had ever called me Nina. It was always “Jiang Yuning” (my legal name), spat out like a command. I was a ghost. I said, “Okay. But can you… keep calling me Nina?” It agreed. So I became a Pathological Recorder. I spied on my “yandere” brothers and took detailed notes. The System even said that if I completed the mission, I’d get a huge payout. Enough to finally be free. Looking at my notes, it felt like that payday was getting close. 3 “Nina!” A girl ran up, linking her arm with mine. Sydney. The heroine. “Your brothers are so annoying,” she complained. “Yesterday it was a yacht, today it’s a condo. It’s too much. You’re so lucky, you’re so normal.” “You’re not losing out,” I said soothingly. “They’re hot, and they’re loaded. I’ve seen their hands. They’re… very capable. Just think of them as well-trained, obedient pets.” I was, of course, lying. They were the least obedient animals on the planet. Sydney blushed. “You… you look at that?” “I’m a recorder, remember? I observe everything. Their schedules, their habits, their preferences. Anything you want to know, just ask me.” She looked stunned. “Oh. Wow. Okay.” “Trust me,” I said. “You’re not getting a bad deal.” (She was. She was going to be eaten alive.) “You’re so nice, Nina. Most sisters would be jealous.” That’s because they aren’t my brothers. And they’ve never, ever treated me like a sister. I gave her a bitter smile. We shopped. She tried on jewelry, complaining, “God, prices just keep going up…” “It’s fine,” I said. “My brothers are rich.” Finally, I took her hand. “Hey, you should sleep over tonight. We can play that new co-op game.” Tonight. Tonight, the plot would lock in. The poor heroine, led to the wolves’ den by the one person she trusted. She agreed immediately. “Okay!” 4 All three brothers were home. The lynchpin moment. I walked in with Sydney. Caleb was on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He never even looks up when I come home. “Wow, your house is huge,” Sydney said. “Is it just you and your brothers?” “Yeah. Our parents live in Europe.” Caleb’s head snapped up. “Sydney?” His voice was loud. Upstairs, a door opened. Julian leaned over the railing, his dimples showing. “Sydney? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?” And just like that, I was invisible. A little while later, Alex came out of his study. He just gave Sydney a calm nod. Caleb got her drinks. Julian showed her the game. Suddenly, a sob. Sydney was crying. “You… you all hover around me all day,” she wept. “Have you ever once considered your sister’s feelings?” Every head turned. Three pairs of eyes locked onto me. I felt like I’d been impaled. “She watches you every single day! So desperate and pathetic, just wanting her brothers to see her! “Instead of imprisoning me, why don’t you imprison the one person who’s already in love with you? I’m sure,” she said, her voice full of conviction, “that she’d be happy to be your prisoner.” The room was so quiet I could hear the air conditioner. I stared at her. That was… a hell of a plot twist. I was so stunned I couldn’t even process how she knew about the “imprisonment” part. “What… what are you talking about? Are you… huh?” Sydney grabbed my hand, holding it up. “She watches you! She knows all your schedules, all your favorite things! I’ve known since middle school how much she adores you! How can you be so cruel to her?” I was melting down. I tried to cover her mouth. “Stop. Please, just stop.” But my panic just made me look guilty. Caleb was horrified. “No way. Nina, you… you have that kind of crush on us?” “I DO NOT!” Sydney was resolute. “It’s okay, Nina. I’ll say the things you’re too afraid to say.” We just stared at each other. After a long silence, Alex, my eldest brother, narrowed his eyes. “That… makes a lot of sense.” WHAT?! I whipped my head to look at him. He was staring at me, his gaze unreadable, but incredibly dangerous. I took a step back. My heart was hammering. This world can’t collapse. I need this mission to work! Sydney was still crying. The vibe was just… toxic. “This… this is your issue,” I stammered, “you guys deal with it.” I turned to run upstairs. A hand clamped around my wrist. I looked back. Alex. A lazy smile on his face. “Running away is a bad habit, Nina.” I was getting really confused. I was always scared of Julian, but Alex… Alex was in charge of the entire Ashford empire. He was polished, distant, and utterly unreadable. “What imprisonment?” I tried to bluff, rolling my eyes. “Have you been reading too many weird romance novels?” “Not practical? You think we’re not?” Caleb, the idiot, suddenly flared up. He grabbed my other arm. “You wanna try me? See if I can’t chain you up right now?” Me: ? I’m so done. These psychos. Julian was just watching from the corner, enjoying the show. Finally, he spoke. “You guys have fun. I’m taking Sydney with me.” Caleb flinched, letting me go. “No!” Yes! That’s the right line! I patted Alex’s hand. “See, big brother? Go. All four of you. Have fun.” “But I just want to play with you.” Alex’s voice was low, his eyes fixed on me. I was so fed up I just glared. “You—” Wait. Wait. He’s trying to make Sydney jealous! Of course! He’s the smart one. I got it. I could play along. I grabbed his arm. “Fine. How do we play? We going to your island?” Alex’s eyes lit up. “I was just thinking that.” He pulled out his phone. “Prep the chopper. I’m bringing someone over tomorrow.” Before I could panic, Julian spoke, his smile gone. “Alex. Grandfather’s birthday party is tomorrow.” Oh, right. That’s why they were all home. I nodded, “Right. We… we can’t miss that.” Alex slowly released my wrist. I looked down. There were perfect, red finger-marks on my pale skin. “Your skin is so delicate,” he murmured. This was getting weirder and weirder. I hid my hand behind my back.

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Right before dinner, my husband suddenly asked, “What if we stop loving each other? Whether it’s because of someone else, or… we just grow apart. What happens to us?” I hesitated for a long time. “Maybe divorce is the best answer. You could find someone else.” The truth was, I already knew. I knew about his unusual feelings for that girl. And I’d already heard him promise her: “Don’t cry. We’ll have a future.” 1 He put his fork down, his face suddenly hardening. After a long moment, he forced a laugh. “Victoria, I was just kidding.” It wasn’t a joke. I knew. I had known his love, so I knew what it looked like when it was gone. And I knew that what he felt for that other girl… was real. Earlier today, at the hospital. The doctor, who had been impatient, softened the moment he read my chart. He lowered his voice. “Don’t be scared. This isn’t late-stage. With aggressive treatment, this is manageable.” I was walking out with the diagnosis when I saw them. Julian’s arm was bandaged. The girl was looking at him, her eyes red with pain. “Why did I have to meet you so late? I can’t even take care of you properly.” Julian looked flustered. Blood was seeping through his new bandage. He said, “Don’t cry. I’ll give you a future.” The words hung in the air. He froze, as if he regretted saying them. But she believed him. Her nose was red as she looked up at him. “Really?” Julian just frowned. He didn’t speak. I didn’t stay to watch the rest. I know Julian. I know his boundaries. As long as he was married to me, his body wouldn’t cross the line. But his heart… I couldn’t control his heart. 2 I wanted to know, too. What kind of girl was she? What made her better than me? I found her profile through his phone. I had to see for myself. I had to see the woman who had so easily destroyed eight years of my life. We survived long-distance. We survived the pandemic. We survived being broke. But we were being defeated by a “better girl.” I found her on the university campus. Of course. Young. Vibrant. An old, homeless woman was struggling to collect cans, her back bent. Her plastic bag ripped, and empty bottles scattered across the pavement. The girl, in a cream-colored coat, ran over and helped her pick up every single one. She helped the woman carry the heavy bag all the way to the campus recycling center. I followed, like a stalker. Suddenly, footsteps rushed up behind me. A figure blocked my view. I looked up. Liam. His arms were spread, shielding the girl from me, his lips trembling. “Victoria, it’s not her fault…” Not her fault. Then whose fault was it? Mine? The girl finally noticed me. She looked over, startled. Our eyes met. She quickly looked away. 3 In a coffee shop. Julian sat across from me, his eyes full of pain. He said, “Victoria, I…” He couldn’t continue. I wanted to know, too. Now that I’d found out, what would he choose? Would he end it with the “better girl”? Or would he end it with me? He opened his mouth, and finally, the words came out, strained. “Victoria, I… I don’t think I love you anymore.” I didn’t say anything. But my body betrayed me. My eyes burned. He panicked. “Don’t cry…” He just stared at me for a long time before pushing the napkin holder across the table. He let out a breath, like a man relieved of a heavy weight. “Tess, we got together when we were eighteen. It’s been eight years… “I know I’m an asshole. I’m scum. “But Victoria… after this long, my love for you… it’s turned into something else. It’s family. “Neither of us can fight that.” I asked him, “And her?” Julian was silent. “Maybe that will change, too. “But… I don’t want to lie to you right now…” He looked up, his voice bitter. “I haven’t done anything… physical. If you want, we can stay married. “But… all I have left to give you is responsibility. And the rest of my time.” How could I describe that feeling? Sadness? Despair? I was a prisoner, drowning. I knew I was going to die, but I had to keep my eyes open and just… wait. We sat in silence. Finally, I spoke. “Let’s schedule a time. We’ll file for divorce.” 4 It was evening when I left the cafe. The sunset was a violent, blinding red. Across the street, someone was hovering. Julian saw her instantly and sprinted over. The girl flinched, her face pale. Julian’s voice was sharp. “Nina, what are you doing here? “I told you to go back to your dorm. Have you been waiting this whole time?” Nina glanced at me, her eyes full of apology. She looked down at her shoes. “I… I was worried about you…” His expression melted. “Don’t overthink it.” Suddenly… An indescribable bitterness flooded my chest. I really thought there was nothing left that could possibly hurt me. 5 “Don’t overthink it.” That’s what he said to me at the bus station, right after graduation. I was sobbing, terrified of the separation. Everyone said graduation equals a breakup. Who could guarantee a long-distance relationship? He turned and hugged me tight. “Victoria, don’t overthink it. As soon as I’m settled, I’ll come see you.” The same station. He took a bus north. I took one south. I was in a second-tier city. My first birthday alone, he promised he’d be there. He wasn’t. At 12:37 AM. A knock on my apartment door. He burst in, breathless, and grabbed me. “I tried so hard to make it,” he panted, “but I’m still late.” I found out later he’d spent his last dollar on the bus ticket. He couldn’t afford a cab from the station. He walked. My apartment was eight miles from the bus station. I thought, this is my life. It has disappointments, but the happy endings will come, even if they’re late. I was wrong.

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To get out of an arranged marriage, I faked being mute for six months. It didn’t work. I still ended up married to Marcus Thorne, the crippled, gloomy billionaire who ran the entire East Coast. Since my new “uncle” was in a wheelchair, I had to do all the heavy lifting. One night, I was exhausted, literally biting his shoulder to keep from screaming out loud. That’s when the comments appeared, floating in front of my face. [LMAO, they’re both faking. This is agony to watch.] [Babe, you can totally cuss him out. Our boss loves dirty talk.] [His legs are fine, he’s just a freak who likes watching her take charge.] I was so pissed, I broke my silence. “Marcus Thorne, you are f*cking useless!” He paused, then smiled, his thumb brushing my lips. “Hm? “Am I? My ‘useless’ legs seem to have cured your voice.” 1 I’m the villainess. Before I “woke up,” I drugged the male lead, Declan Hayes. My plan failed. The “innocent” heroine, Lily, got him instead. When Declan sobered up, he came after me. When he couldn’t find me, he started a corporate war against my family. Our company was bleeding money. My father, desperate, decided to marry me off. But no one wanted our failing business, and they really didn’t want me—a spoiled, volatile brat. So my dad turned to Marcus Thorne. The dark, cold, ruthless head of the Thorne Group. He was my father’s old business partner. My “uncle.” Back when I drugged Declan, Declan had pinned me down and forced the rest of the spiked champagne down my throat. Marcus was the one who rescued me. He tied my hands with his own silk tie. He made me kneel in his library and hit my palms with a wooden ruler. He was terrifying. But I was so high, I couldn’t stand it. That night, in front of portraits of his dead ancestors, I… assaulted him. I even broke the wheel off his chair. 2 After that, I ran. Now, Marcus was hunting me, too. Between the strangulation, the spiked champagne, and the screaming, my voice was completely shot. I left a note for my family and fled to Europe to “heal.” Six months later, they dragged me out of a Berlin nightclub. I pointed to my throat. The Thornes will never accept a mute bride. My father scoffed. “Our company is failing because of you. You being mute is the only reason they’re forcing him to go through with it—they know he can’t leverage this marriage for anything. “Besides,” he added, “he’s a cripple. You’re a mute. It’s a perfect match.” Me: ? 3 On our wedding night, I was shaking. My gloomy new husband rolled his wheelchair over to me. He tilted my chin up, his fingers gently probing my throat. “Mute?” I nodded, trembling. I’d heard stories. This man was vicious. And I hadn’t just humiliated him. I’d been forced on him. I was terrified he was going to kill me. “Good,” he murmured. “The walls in this house are thin.” Me: ? Marcus patted my head and handed me a small, heavy box. “My legs are… inconvenient. You’ll have to help me.” I stared at the box. You sick bastard. He was actually going to make his 20-year-old “niece” do… that. “Scared?” I nodded. Then I shook my head. I am Sloane Jiang. I’m not scared of anyone. I got on my knees, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the clasp. Marcus sighed, a long, weary sound. He scooped me up and settled me onto his lap, facing him. He put his hands over mine, guiding me. “You’re new at this, Sloane. Don’t rush. “Sit still. You don’t want to fall off. “It’s the best model money can buy. You can be… bold.” He was… teaching me how to operate his high-tech wheelchair. 4 My uncle was truly useless. I had to do everything. I was exhausted, overworked, and forced to… assist him. A month later, I was so tired I could barely see straight. I bit down hard on his shoulder, the only way to keep from screaming. If he knew I’d been faking being mute, he’d find new ways to torture me. I was mentally cussing him out when the glowing letters appeared. [I’m dead. They’re both pretending.] [Villainess, honey, you can scream. He’s so into dirty talk.] [He’s suffering too. Can’t move, just has to watch her… OMG he’s about to explode.] [She def doesn’t know his legs are fine. He’s just a perv who likes watching her be on top.] [Please, for the love of God, just insult him. We’re begging you.] Me: … I looked at Marcus. Sweat was dripping from his temples onto my collarbone. His cold eyes were dark with lust, and a low growl was stuck in his throat. His hands were gripping my waist, his veins popping. I decided to test it. My voice was raspy. “Uncle.” He flinched. “Uncle,” I said, “you are truly… useless.” His grip on my waist tightened, painfully. “Say that again.” My lips trembled. I let all my pent-up frustration out. “What, you deaf now, too? Fine. I said, you’re f*cking useless. You’re a worthless cripple.” He pushed the hair back from my neck. He was watching me, undisguised amusement in his eyes. “Hm?” Night fell. It got darker. His fingers traced my lips. “Am I? My ‘useless’ legs seem to have cured your voice.” 5 “Bastard!” I scrambled out of the bed, locking the door behind me. His legs were fine. He’d been lying to me. But I couldn’t call him out. If he got angry, he’d ruin me. The best solution was to run. Clubs, racing, golf, parties, models. As long as I was moving, he couldn’t catch me. I met my friends at a pool hall that weekend. They saw the new guy I had with me. “Whoa, over Declan already? He’s been looking for you, you know.” “Bored of him.” “Just like that? Sure. So, who’s the new boy-toy? He’s gorgeous.” His name was Leo. A model. My friend had been looking at outfits, and I’d been more interested in the man wearing them. [He’s the one! The puppy who only loves the villainess! So sweet, but so hot. He becomes a huge star.] [Sloane used him to make Declan jealous, and the poor baby fell hopelessly in love.] [Is no one thinking about Uncle Marcus? When he finds out she’s playing with other toys… the drama is going to be epic.] I handed my pool cue to Leo. “Five balls. Sink one, I’ll give you five grand.” “Sloane,” my friend hissed, “your dad is barely keeping the company afloat, and you’re just… setting money on fire.” I can live without love. I can’t live without being rich, beautiful, and the center of attention. “My dad spoils me.” They didn’t know I was spending Marcus’s money. Leo was… okay. I moved behind him, wrapping my arms around him to guide his hands. His ears turned bright red. “Such nice hands. Why can’t you aim?” He looked down. “Didn’t want you to lose your money.” Cute. “It’s not a loss if it’s on you.” After his shots, I patted his cheek. “Go have fun.” “So you’re really over Declan? Wow.” “Declan Hayes? Please. He was just a distraction.” “Ahem.” Someone was clearing their throat. I bent over the table, lining up my shot. Suddenly, a warm body pressed against my back. A dark voice whispered in my ear. “A distraction, am I?” I jumped. Declan. His hand clamped onto my waist. “You don’t just get to disappear, Sloane.” [NOOO! That’s the male lead! Get away from her! The heroine is supposed to see this!] [This is the scene where they meet! He’s not supposed to like Sloane yet!] [The plot point here is that he flirts with the villainess (Sloane) to make the heroine (Lily) jealous. God, I’m worried for Sloane.] I shoved him off. “Obviously.” I adjusted my earring. “I found better things to do.” He grabbed my wrist. “It’s not that easy.” He sneered. “I wonder… do you think I still have the security footage from that night? What if…” My heart stopped. But… my dad and Marcus must have buried that. This stupid plot. I would never do something that idiotic now. “What are you talking about?” my friends asked. Declan lit a cigarette. “She was… very naughty.” “Naughty how? Sloane climb into your bed?” He blew a cloud of smoke. “You don’t just do something like that and walk away.” The smoke hit my face. It stung. I slapped him. Hard. “You want to try that again?” He licked his lip, a slow, cold smile spreading. He looked… unhinged. If we were alone, he’d be choking me right now. [God, he’s so hot. And she’s so badass. This is my new ship.] [Are you insane? She drugged him! How can you ship that?] [I’m reading trashy fanfiction, not morals. And he’s no saint! Blowing smoke in her face? That’s either a threat or foreplay.] Leo suddenly shoved Declan away from me. Declan just laughed. “You think she’s a prize? You’re pathetic.” Leo grabbed my hand. “Sloane. Let’s go.” “Sloane.” Declan’s voice stopped me. “Let’s finish the game. You win… and I’ll call off the dogs. I’ll stop the attacks on your family’s company.” “Fine.” Either way, it didn’t matter.

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In the kidnapper’s game of “choose one,” my parents chose my sister. I was the one they let die. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a stranger’s body. She had a paralyzed grandmother and a disabled mom. Their life was appallingly poor, but it was filled with the warmth I had craved my entire life. One day, I ran into a frantic, disheveled woman. She asked if I had seen her daughter. I looked at the familiar face, stripped of all its former privilege, now just a mask of hollow grief. I calmly shook my head. “No, I haven’t.” Her daughter died in a warehouse five years ago. She was the one who chose it. 1 In the dilapidated warehouse, my sister and I were bound with rope, our mouths stuffed with rags. A camera was pointed at us. Behind us, the kidnapper was tearing at a piece of chicken, laughing. “Made your choice, Michael? Which one of your precious daughters are you sending to hell?” My sister, Erin, was whimpering, her whole body shaking. I just stared calmly at the monitor. On it, I could see my parents’ faces. The couple that was always so composed and noble looked like they had aged ten years overnight. They were exhausted, pleading. “Don’t hurt my girls! Please, whatever you want, we’ll pay it!” “Don’t hurt them!” “Please!” A bottle shattered behind us. I instinctively threw myself in front of Erin. Shards of glass sprayed across my face, and I felt the sting of blood welling up. “Michael Lin! So you can beg,” the kidnapper sneered. “When my company went bankrupt, when I begged you for a life raft, did you even listen?” “Money’s useless! I want you to feel what I felt. I want one of your daughters as payment!” “I’m giving you three minutes. The older one or the younger one. If you don’t choose… they both die.” A digital timer started beeping. Each tick was a countdown to my death. Erin was trembling so hard I could feel the heat of her tears soaking into my shoulder. My own eyes started to burn. The countdown hadn’t even hit thirty seconds when I heard my mother’s sharp, desperate voice. “Save the younger one! Save Erin!” “Please, don’t hurt my Erin, please!” Just like that. No hesitation. I was the one they abandoned. I knew this would be the outcome, but hearing my parents make the choice, my heart just… collapsed. My mom and dad… they really didn’t love me. All the strength left my body. I slumped to the side, the world going quiet and dark. The kidnapper dragged Erin to the other side of the room, then came back and ripped the rag from my mouth. “Kid, you’ve got one minute. Last words.” The beeping started again. The last minute of my life. I was shaking, my lips moving, but no sound came out. “20 seconds,” the kidnapper’s voice said. It was right next to me but sounded a million miles away. My hearing suddenly rushed back. My mother’s hysterical sobs filled my ears, so loud they pierced my skull. I stared at the monitor, trying to speak, trying to say… something. But all that came out were silent tears. The next second, a cold blade opened my throat. I saw my own blood spray. I lay on the concrete, watching my life drain away. Like a small, weak candle flame, flickering… and then, extinguished. 2 I fell into a long dream. My life flashing by. My name was Cara Lin. Until I was ten, I thought I had two mothers. One in real life, and one on the phone. I learned later the one in real life was my aunt. When I was three, my parents’ business almost went under. They were drowning in debt, scrambling. They had no time for a child. So they sent me to live with my aunt. Aunt Claire was young, unmarried, with no kids. She made coffee every morning, sat by the window, and painted. All day. I was a light sleeper. Nightmares always woke me. She would hold me, tell me stories, and hum until I fell back asleep. She always smelled like vanilla and turpentine. I always felt safe. She wasn’t like my mother. Claire smiled. She wore makeup. She dressed me up. She loved buying me new dresses, would braid my hair, and take me out for cupcakes. “A girl deserves to feel pretty,” she’d say. One night, I had a raging fever. My whole body ached. I cried for my “mommy.” I fell into a soft, fragrant embrace, a hand rubbing my back. When I woke up, Aunt Claire was asleep in the chair next to my bed, dark circles under her eyes. I hugged her and called her “Mommy.” She was quiet for a moment. Then she told me I had to call her “Aunt Claire.” The woman who called every week, she was my mother. I didn’t understand. The other kids at preschool had moms who picked them up, who held their hands, who dressed them. Like Claire. The woman on the phone… she never visited. She never told me stories. Sometimes, she forgot to call at all. I asked Claire if she could be my mom, and the phone lady could be my aunt. She was quiet for a long time. She stroked my hair and said my mother loved me very much, she was just… busy. I didn’t understand. I just thought Claire didn’t want to be my mom. I threw a tantrum. She finally gave in, telling me I could call her “Mommy,” but only when we were alone. I was so happy. She was my mom. Like the other kids’ moms. She was there, every day, at the preschool gate, rain or shine. The other kids said my mom was the prettiest. I was so proud. I lived like that until I was seven. One day, she told me my mother had given birth to a baby sister, and they were coming to take me back. She had her back to me, washing vegetables. Her voice was bright, like she was happy for me. She said their business was better, they could give me a better life. It took me a minute to even realize which “mother” she meant. The phone-mom hadn’t called in six months. I finally understood. I wasn’t going to live here forever. I had to leave. That night, I barely ate. I asked her, “If I eat less, can I stay?” I didn’t need a “better life.” This was good enough. Claire just froze. She didn’t say anything. She just turned around, her eyes red, and hugged me. I spent the next few days sick with worry. Then I overheard her on the phone. My parents were saying the new baby was a handful, they couldn’t manage me, too. Could Claire keep me for a few more years? I was so happy. Claire didn’t say it, but I knew she was happy, too. She made my two favorite dishes for dinner. But I forgot. I wasn’t her daughter. I couldn’t stay. Life with her was so easy. The days just… flowed. And then, suddenly, it was over. I was ten. I came home from school. “Mom! I’m home!” Two voices answered. The phone-mom was there. 3 The room was instantly awkward. My mother’s face was tight. Aunt Claire tried to smooth it over. “Oh, she must have meant ‘Aunt Mom’!” That night, my mother packed my things. I refused to go. I clung to Claire, asking if she didn’t want me anymore. Claire’s eyes were red. She was trying to smile, but it was just a pained grimace. She peeled my arms off her and pushed me toward my mother. “Don’t mind her, sister-in-law. Cara’s just not used to you yet. She loves the gifts you send. She’s always dreaming about you.” “It’s getting late. You should go. Drive safe.” She wouldn’t look at my pleading eyes. She just pushed me away. My mother took me to the car. I left all my things. My mother said they’d bought me all new, better things. Aunt Claire stood on the porch until we turned the corner. I knew. I wasn’t going to see her for a long, long time. I cried silently in the back seat. My mother tried to talk to me. About my new “princess room,” the new dresses, all the toys. I just stared out the window. Eventually, she stopped talking. I didn’t hate her. I knew she was busy. Claire always told me they loved me, that they sent me away so I wouldn’t have to struggle with them. I knew all that. I just… I just wanted Claire to be my mom. She was the one who raised me. I never found the answer. The car stopped at a beautiful house. A mansion. Gardens, a swing set. “This is our home now,” she said. I was scared. I followed her. A little girl ran out the front door and flew into her arms, yelling, “Mommy!” I watched my mother’s stern face just… melt. She knelt, listening to this little girl babble about her day. I remembered Aunt Claire, holding my hand, listening to me babble about preschool. I watched them. They were a family. I was an outsider. And I was supposed to live here now. My throat burned. I just dug my fingernails into my palms. After a long time, the little girl pointed at me. “Who’s that?” My mother finally remembered me. “Erin, this is your big sister, Cara.” Erin wasn’t shy. She grabbed my hand. “Cara! Come see my toys!” She was still wobbly on her feet. My mother walked behind her, her hands hovering, her eyes full of a tenderness I’d never seen. Did she ever look at me like that? I didn’t know. In my memory, that look only ever came from Claire. That first night, I went to bed early. The blankets were soft, but I felt safer wrapped up in them. My mother came in. She said she was worried I’d be scared in a new bed. She’d sleep with me. She’d just sat down when Erin started crying from the next room, “Mommy! Story!” My mother looked torn. I just turned my face to the wall and said it was okay. She looked relieved and rushed out. It wasn’t that I was “understanding.” I was just… I was already past the age of needing bedtime stories. When I was that age, she wasn’t there. Now, I didn’t need her. I picked up my phone to call Claire. It went straight to voicemail. Again. And again. I figured she was busy. I’d wait. I listened to the sounds of my mother and Erin laughing next door, and eventually, I fell asleep. A week later, my dad came home. He brought us both dresses. Erin’s fit perfectly. Mine was too small. And bright yellow. I hate yellow. He looked embarrassed. He’d take it back. I just shook my head. Of course he knew Erin’s size. He’d watched her grow. He only ever saw me on a screen. To celebrate, he booked out an entire restaurant. It looked like a fairytale. Erin was used to it. My mother carefully ordered for Erin, listing her allergies. Then she ordered me the shrimp platter. She didn’t know I was allergic to shellfish. Claire had told her. She’d written it down. She’d texted her. But she forgot. I wasn’t even sad. I just… I really missed Aunt Claire. They said she was “traveling.” They told me not to “bother” her. Her phone number was disconnected. They didn’t want me talking to her. They were afraid I’d never bond with them. That “Mommy” I’d accidentally called her… it was a thorn in their side. They forgot. They were the ones who sent me away. They were the ones who never called, who never visited. They pushed me away first. They tried. They gave me things. A private school, a driver, new clothes every season, a private chef. But we were never close. Erin would cuddle up with them. I would sit on the other end of the sofa. Erin was loud and funny. She made them laugh. She’d throw tantrums, and they’d rush to comfort her. I was just… quiet. They’d ask about my grades. If my allowance was enough. Like I was a guest. It was okay. You can’t force feelings. But I was sad. You just… you want your parents to love you. Erin was the one who held us together. She adored me. She’d follow me everywhere, shouting, “Don’t put shrimp on that! My sister is allergic!” She didn’t get that a hot dog wasn’t going to have shrimp. She just… remembered. She was the glue. So, when she was kidnapped at fourteen, the family didn’t just crack. It shattered. 4 It was New Year’s Eve. My parents had promised to take us to see the fireworks. Erin had been excited all day. Then the call came. An emergency at the office. Erin threw a full-blown tantrum. I figured, what’s the big deal? The park was only ten minutes away. I told the butler to drive us. I was young. I wasn’t thinking about human traffickers. The butler stepped away to take a call. A van pulled up. That was it. We woke up in the back of a truck, with other kids. Erin was terrified. I was, too. But I couldn’t show it. Our phones were gone. The truck was stopped. This was our only chance. I saw a boy, my age, bruised but with sharp eyes. I whispered the plan. I started screaming that I was sick. When the guard opened the door, I threw my coat over his head and shoved him, screaming, “RUN!” The kids scrambled. It was chaos. But they were on us in seconds. I was thrown back in. They rounded up the others. They did a head count. One was missing. They beat me. Erin tried to shield me. I held her, turning my back to the blows. She was so small. I don’t know how long it lasted. Erin was crying into my chest. I told her it was okay. “I got word out. They’re coming for us.” I was lying. The boy hadn’t gotten away. I knew he couldn’t. My “distraction” was just to get the guards out of the truck. So he could steal one of their phones. He was hiding under the chassis. 5 They couldn’t find him. They beat me again, then decided to move out. I was fading. I woke up in a hospital, tubes everywhere. My mother was screaming. They told me later… they thought I was dead. They’d dumped my body on the side of the road. Erin was still in the van. The boy… he’d found me. He’d carried me. He flagged down the police. I was in the ICU for a long time. My parents visited twice. They were so thin. They were pouring everything into finding Erin. By the time I was discharged, she was still gone. The police had the plate, but the traffickers were smart. They’d switched vehicles. Erin was… gone. My parents were ghosts. Dad worked constantly. Mom started drinking. But the quiet was worse. One night, she got drunk. The real, ugly truth came out. She smashed a vase. “It’s your fault! If you hadn’t taken her…!” She screamed at me, “Why wasn’t it you? Why did she have to be the one?” “Did you do it on purpose? Are you jealous? Is that why you’re the one who came back?” I couldn’t answer. The next day, she was sober, crying, apologizing. “I didn’t mean it.” But I couldn’t forget. Her eyes… the hate was real. Mom, I would have traded places with her. I would have. In this house, I was the stranger. Erin was the only one who loved me. She was the only one who remembered my allergy. She’d sneak into my bed during thunderstorms. “You’re the best sister, Cara.” And I couldn’t protect her. If it had been me… maybe they wouldn’t be in so much pain.

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Five years after I’d successfully completed the conquest, the System suddenly pinged. [The other player, Seraphina, is dead.] The teacup in my hand slipped, shattering on the floor. Seraphina was my best friend. To pull me out of this medieval world, she had voluntarily bound herself to the System, agreeing to help me conquer the two main targets: the Archmage and the Crown Prince. When we won, I chose to go home. She, however, had fallen in love with the Archmage. She chose to stay. That was five years ago. How… how was she dead? I finally heard my own voice, shaking. “Send me back.” “I’m going to drag that useless woman back home.” 1 The world spun. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the familiar, foreign streets of Avaloria. But in the bustling crowd, there was no one to grab my hand and say, “Don’t be afraid, Luna. I’m right here with you.” I found a horse and galloped toward the High Temple. The System said her body was still there. In the temple’s back hills, I found it: a single coffin, covered in fresh snow. I stumbled from my horse, running toward it. When I brushed the snow off the lid, I saw the dark, spattered stains. Blood. My chest tightened. My hands were shaking. “Frost… what did they do to you…” I pushed the lid. It grated open. The stench of rot hit me. I held my breath and looked inside. She was just… lying there. Her face was paper-white. Her beautiful hair had been hacked off, left in ragged clumps. Her body was a roadmap of injuries, and her right sleeve… her right sleeve was empty, the stump at her shoulder horribly clean. They had cut off her arm. I saw it, and my legs gave out. I collapsed. A thought, cold and sharp, cut through the grief. Where was Kaelen? The Archmage? When I left, they were disgustingly in love. She was pregnant. How could she be here, and he… he hadn’t even come to claim her body? I forced myself up and rode for the Archmage’s Tower. The wind was a blade against my skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart. The tower was… decorated. Red banners and lanterns. It was a celebration. It was so wrong. I stood there, frozen, thinking I’d gone to the wrong place. “What is this?” I grabbed a passing servant. He yelped. “The… the Archmage is getting married! It’s his wedding day!” Married? All the blood rushed to my head. Seraphina’s body wasn’t even cold, and he was getting married? I shoved the servant aside and kicked the doors open. Kaelen was there, in ceremonial robes, standing before a strange woman. He was smiling. I saw his smile, and all I could see was Frost’s empty sleeve. I lost it. I stormed the altar and slapped him. Hard. The woman in red screamed, “Who are you? How dare you strike the Archmage!” I backhanded her, too. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty for you.” She stared, her eyes filling with tears. She grabbed Kaelen’s sleeve. “Kaelen…” He shielded her, his expression a complex mess. “Luna? How… why are you back?” “Did she send you?” he snarled. “Did Seraphina send you to ruin my wedding to Lyra?” You son of a bitch. He moves on, and he dares to slander her name? I hit him again. “You don’t get to say her name, you bastard!” “She’s dead! She’s lying in a box on the mountain, and you’re here getting married!” Kaelen froze, his face draining of color. “What… what did you say? Frost… she’s dead?” 2 My hand stopped, hovering. He… he didn’t even know? Before I could speak, the new bride, Lyra, whispered, “Kaelen, don’t listen to her. You know how Seraphina lies.” “She… she cut up her own dresses last month, just to blame me.” Kaelen’s eyes sparked. He believed her. “That… that woman,” he seethed. “I never knew how manipulative she was. She’s faking her own death just to stop me from marrying Lyra?” I was shaking with rage. When Kaelen had overused his magic, shattering his own life-force, it was Frost who saved him. She’d traded her own life-source, her system points, for his. She had been wasting away ever since. She made me promise not to tell him. She didn’t want him to feel “burdened.” And this… this was his gratitude. I hit him again. “Say her name one more time, and I’ll rip your tongue out.” Lyra shrieked and lunged at me. “You witch! You’re just doing her dirty work!” I dodged, grabbed her wrist, and twisted. She screamed. A small body shot past me like a cannonball, tackling me at the knees. “You hurt my mommy! Get out, you bad woman!” A little boy. Five, maybe six years old. He was beautiful. And he looked… he looked just like Seraphina. Her son. Kaelen’s son. And he was protecting this other woman. “Frost… what kind of hell were you living in?” My heart shattered. I looked at the boy. “You’re Frost’s son. Why are you calling her ‘Mommy’?” The boy’s face twisted with a hatred far too old for him. “Don’t say that! She’s not my mother! Lyra is my mother! You can’t hurt her!” Oh, Frost. Do you see this? I laughed. A horrible, broken sound. I grabbed the kid, my whip lashing out, and tied him to my side. “Frost was too soft to teach you. I’ll do it for her.” If he were my kid, I’d have abandoned him. But this was Frost’s. I had to at least try to save him. Lyra was hysterical. “Kaelen, she’s taking Ash! Stop her!” Kaelen was furious. “Let him go, Luna! This is between us! He’s just a child!” I pulled the rope tighter. “He became ‘between us’ the moment you let him call another woman his mother. Do you even remember what Frost went through to give you this child?” We weren’t supposed to be able to get pregnant here. She had to trade more of her life, endure a blood-magic ritual… just to have his baby. She was so happy. “I’m not just saving you, Moon,” she’d said, “I’m finding my true love.” Now she was a corpse with one arm. Kaelen flinched, but his voice was hard. “She’s a thief. I will not let my son be raised by a thief.” “She stole what?” “She stole Lyra’s title! She stole her power, her credit, everything!” 3 I stared. This world never had a “Goddess.” Frost and I, we used the System to predict disasters, to stop famines, to change the weather. We created the “Goddess” myth. If Lyra was the Goddess, it was a lie they had built. “Proof. Now.” The boy, Ash, spat at me. “That bitch stole it! I saw Mommy Lyra bleed for the rain spell! And that bad woman took the credit!” “He’s a child,” Kaelen said. “He wouldn’t lie.” The two people who should have been her world were speaking of her like she was poison. A snowflake landed on my cheek. It was snowing. Hard. I remembered Frost, alone in her coffin. I left the tower. I had to bury her. The cold had preserved her, but… not perfectly. Her face, at least. Her face was still beautiful. I brushed her mangled hair back. My hand was shaking. “I’m sorry, Frost. I shouldn’t have let you stay. If it wasn’t for me, you never would have met this bastard…” The first scoop of dirt hit the wood. The sound was so final. My throat closed. I tried to scream, but only a choked sob came out. I was about to jump into the grave with her when a golden light threw me back. A familiar, mechanical voice. [Player Luna, do not self-terminate. Seraphina left a file for you.] “What? What is it?” A letter appeared in my hand. [Moon, I have no one left here. Take me home. Just me. Don’t let anyone else come. They’ll just dirty the path. -Frost] She must have been so broken. “I’ll get you justice, Frost. I promise. And then we’ll go home.” I asked the System to show me her final moments. [ACCESS DENIED. INSUFFICIENT PERMISSIONS.] 4 I put the burial on hold. I used the System to freeze her body. The snow fell for five days. The city was panicking. On the sixth day, Lyra arrived at the High Temple in a wave of incense and bells, dressed in white, looking every bit the divine. She lit the incense. “In three days,” she announced, “the snow will stop.” The people cheered. She walked into the back room, her face pale. “Seraphina. In three days, you have to…” She saw me. “Who are you? Where is Seraphina?” “You’re the Goddess,” I sneered. “Why are you asking me?” She looked panicked. “Just… just tell that bitch to get out here!” I slapped her. “The bitch? You’re talking about yourself.” “Frost is dead. Your little show is over.” “Dead?” she shrieked, panicked. “She can’t be dead! You’re lying, get her out here!” The door crashed open. Kaelen and Ash. Lyra immediately crumpled, running to him. “Kaelen! This woman… she hit me! And she’s saying… saying awful lies about Seraphina…” “Luna, that’s enough!” he yelled. “Where is she? Tell her to stop this ridiculous game!” “Are you deaf? She’s DEAD.” “Liar! The High Priest saw her just yesterday! You’re just jealous I married Lyra, so you cooked up this ‘fake death’ plot! I’m not falling for it!” I laughed. I grabbed him, my magic flaring, and teleported us to the back hills. I threw him at the frozen casket. “Open it. See for yourself.” He kicked the lid off. “This is pathetic. If she was really… really…” His voice died. The coffin was open. Frost’s pale, mutilated body was lying there. He just stared. The anger, the denial… it all shattered. 5 Kaelen fell to his knees. He reached out a trembling hand, then snatched it back, like her skin was fire. “No… no, it was just… I just sent her here to reflect… I was just teaching her a lesson…” Lyra and Ash ran up. She saw the body and her face went white. Ash ran up and started hitting the corpse. “Bad woman! You made Daddy leave Mommy!” Kaelen turned and struck his son. “She… she is your mother!” Ash wailed. I threw Frost’s last letter at Kaelen. He read the six words. I have no one left here. He howled. A raw, animal sound of grief. Lyra saw him breaking. She tried to touch him. “Kaelen, she’s gone, but…” He lunged, his hands wrapping around her throat. “YOU! This is your fault! You did this!” She choked, clawing at him. “Kaelen… no… I’m the… the Emperor’s Goddess… I saved… I saved your life…” The Emperor? My blood went cold. Rhys. My target. The only other person who knew we were Players. Did Rhys do this? Kaelen’s grip loosened. “If you hadn’t saved me… I’d kill you right now.” He threw her to the ground. He turned back to the coffin… and he saw the empty sleeve. His breath hitched. “Luna… her… her arm…” “Now you believe me.” His voice was a broken whisper. “It’s my fault… I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have…” “Moon.” A new voice. I turned. Rhys. The Emperor. In his full golden armor.

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After I hired a college guy as my live-in boyfriend, my “one that got away” came back. He saw us together and his eyes went red. “I’m back. Get rid of him.” But the college guy just kneeled at my feet, his face a mask of beautiful despair. “Don’t send me away, Seraphina. I’ll do anything.” 1 It was Leo’s birthday, which also marked three years of him being my perfect stand-in. I’d ordered him a $2,000 custom cake. He was in the middle of singing me a love song, his face flushed. The door to the private room burst open. A man I hadn’t seen in three years stood there, holding a bouquet of impossible, gold-dusted roses. Julian Cole. The new king of indie cinema. My white whale. The music died. Beside me, Leo went rigid. My friends, however, erupted. “Julian! You’re back! Sit here, sit next to Sera!” “You, kid, move! God, don’t be so slow.” Leo lowered his head, his hair hiding his expression. He was probably about to cry. My little college boy had such a fragile heart. He’d cry, and his nose and ears would turn the most delicious shade of pink. I’ve always loved watching him cry. Especially in bed. But right now, my attention was on Julian. Three years had been good to him. His frame was broader, practically radiating male pheromones. His eyes were deeper, his features so sharp he looked less like a man and more like a work of art you weren’t allowed to touch. It made you want to touch him. To shatter that composure. In the few seconds I was silent, Leo’s entire posture deflated. “I… I don’t want to interrupt,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I’ll just go.” He slowly put on his coat. Slowly wrapped his scarf. He was waiting for me to stop him. I just nodded. “Go home and make that soup. I’ll be back late.” He thought his tears were his trump card. I indulge him because he has value. But I am not managed by him. Leo’s face went pale. He walked out. I patted the empty seat. Julian sat, and his deep voice was laced with vinegar. “You didn’t stay lonely, I see.” I handed him a glass of champagne. “You’re the one who bailed on our engagement to ‘find yourself’ in Europe. You left. Did you expect me to join a convent?” He flinched, then downed the champagne. “I was just a trust fund kid. I wanted to be… better. Worthy of you.” I shrugged. “That sounds like a you problem.” Honestly, I’m glad he ran. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be this free. A woman should have her fun. When you’re ready, you find a good-looking man to sign a prenup and settle down. A woman’s experience is her greatest asset. The men you’ve tasted, the places you’ve seen—they’re all part of your story. My friends were already fawning over Julian. “Sera never got over you, Julian. She even found a replacement built on your exact specs!” “She was a mess after you left. Drunk every night, looking for you in every guy.” “But he’s just a boy toy. We only ever approved of you.” I let them talk, watching Julian’s ego visibly inflate. Men are so easy to manage. Hours later, I was curled up in his lap. His voice was rough with whiskey. “I missed you, Sera.” He whispered against my ear, “Don’t go home tonight.” 2 I woke up the next morning, my voice hoarse. It was… a good reunion. Julian may be twenty-eight, but his stamina had only improved. I slipped out of bed. He grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go to the office. Stay. It’s been three years.” I pulled my hand free, fastening my cufflink. “Don’t be ridiculous. I run an empire. My time is money.” He sat up, his eyes intense. “My quotes are only getting higher. I can support you.” I laughed. But I wasn’t mad. It was… cute. The naive, passionate declaration of a man who still thinks he’s the main character. I grabbed my Hermès and my Aston Martin keys. “Call me when you make the Forbes list, darling.” He was speechless. I spent the morning in back-to-back meetings. At noon, my assistant brought in lunch. Duck and bamboo shoot soup, black truffle-infused mushrooms, cod in a crab-roe broth, and a soufflé. Leo was a culinary genius. It was, after his face, his primary value. “Where’s Leo?” I asked. He usually stayed to eat with me. “Mr. Nie dropped off the food and left, ma’am. He… he seemed unwell.” I checked my phone. A dozen missed calls from last night. 7 PM: [The soup is ready. Come home?] 9 PM: [I showered… I’m wearing the… tail… you like.] 11 PM: [If you’re not coming home, I’m going back to my dorm.] 2 AM: [Please come back. I’m begging you. I miss you…] I put the phone down. He cried himself to sleep, and now he’s throwing a tantrum. I’ll deal with it tonight. Just as I predicted, I got home and found him packing a suitcase, his eyes swollen. He ignored me. I grabbed his chin, forcing his head up. “Why are you leaving? Is my money not good enough? Or am I not f*cking you hard enough?” His eyes were red, trying to look cold. “Your real boyfriend is back. The stand-in knows when to exit.” I sighed. “Don’t you feel it? This isn’t just about him anymore.” His lip trembled. “You chose him last night. You… you know I waited all night? The soup boiled dry…” He broke. “All this time… it was all a lie!” I frowned. “I don’t like men who cry. And I didn’t ‘choose’ anyone. “I already sent the wire for your mother’s medical bills and your father’s gambling debts. I doubled it. If you’re still upset, I’ll add another fifty grand to your monthly allowance.” His sobbing stopped. His eyes, wide and wet, just blinked. “Didn’t… choose?” He wiped his face, a little smile breaking through. I opened my arms. He collapsed into them. I stroked his back. He smelled so good. “Honestly, Leo,” I murmured, “I have a soft spot for you. The deadbeat dad, the sick mom… your life is a mess. I know this isn’t easy for you. I can’t stand to see a man cry.” He sniffled, “I’ll go shower.” “Good boy.” Men are simple. Give them a little validation, and they’re yours. While he was showering, I checked my feeds. Julian had posted a new promo shot, his abs defined. The caption: [You Only]. I liked it. Comment: [Needs to be spicier.] He messaged me instantly. [Tonight?] I sent him a picture of my desk. [Working.] I put my phone down and sipped my wine. It’s exhausting managing this many male egos. Good thing I’m a professional. 3 The next day, my top agent told me she’d signed Julian Cole. He’d approached her. He was the hottest thing in Hollywood, and he walked right into my company, Shang Media. I called him. “You don’t have to be so excited,” he said, his voice smiling. “I had to sign somewhere. This way, we can see each other more.” “Excited? Julian, it’s a privilege for you to sign with me. I’m calling to remind you that my talent is expected to behave. Don’t tarnish my brand. “If you work hard, I’ll make you a legend. If you screw up, I’ll bury you. Got it?” He was silent. “Now,” I continued, “I’ve already picked your next projects. An art film with Aronofsky, a blockbuster with Nolan, and a reality dating show.” His voice went up an octave. “A dating show? You’d let me do that?” Men. So emotional. “It’s just an IRL rom-com for the audience, Julian. Don’t actually fall for anyone. Just be the perfect ‘book boyfriend’ and build your female fanbase.” He chuckled, his mood restored. “I knew it. You can’t stand the thought of me with anyone else.” Whatever. If the delusion benefits me, I’ll allow it. I flew out to the private island for the show’s first day. I bought a villa there. And, of course, I brought Leo. “Sister,” he whispered, massaging my shoulders, “you’re so good to me.” “I bought you new swim trunks. Go try them on.” He came back, blushing. “They’re… a little tight. Is there a bigger size?” I sipped my coconut water. “No. They’re perfect.” Good assets should be displayed. He knelt by my lounge chair, his amber eyes looking up at me. “Did you… did you ever buy swim trunks for him?” Tsk. So competitive. “No.” Three years ago, Julian was an ice king. I was the one chasing him. He’d rejected me, even fled the country. Now that I don’t care, he’s back, claiming it was “insecurity.” I don’t care what it was. I only believe in power. When you’re strong enough, the world kisses your feet. Leo smiled, a slow, soft kiss on my knee. He kissed his way down my calf, to my ankle. The air got thick. He was a quick study. He was young, energetic, and creative. He’d get me half-delirious, then whisper: “Like this? Or this?” “Again? Are you sure you’re done?” “Sister… say you love me. Say it, or I don’t stop.” My phone rang. He covered my eyes with one hand, declining the call with the other. It rang again. He saw the caller ID. He swiped to answer. Julian. “My agent said you bought a villa. Send me the address. I’m coming over after we wrap.” I was on my stomach. I tried to keep my voice steady. “I’m busy… I’ll text y—” A sudden, hard thrust from behind made my voice crack and break. The line went silent for two seconds. Julian’s voice was ice. “There’s someone there? Tell him to get out. Now.” Leo just smirked, his eyes feral. “Sister,” he whispered, “don’t tell him. I don’t want a stranger in our house.” Julian was roaring. “Leo, is it? You’re going to regret this.” Leo hung up. I wrapped my arms around his neck. Tonight, no one was sleeping. 4 I woke up at 2 PM. My phone was blown up. My agent: [Julian walked off set.] I had no appetite. I floored the Aston Martin to the production site. Julian got in, his face a thundercloud. He was waiting for an apology. I gave him one. “Are you an idiot? A-lister ego, D-list talent. You’re my employee. You’re embarrassing my brand. You want to quit? Fine. Pay the fifty-million-dollar breach-of-contract fee, kiss the director’s ass, and get the hell out of my sight.” He was stunned. “Aren’t you going to explain last night?” “Explain what? To you? Who are you?” His eyes were burning. “Fine, Seraphina. You don’t care about me at all.” I lit a slim cigarette. “I care about my assets. You’re an adult, Julian. Stop being so childish.” He snapped. He grabbed the back of my head and kissed me, hard. It was all anger and frustration and the smell of expensive cologne. I just let him. The one who loses their cool is the one who loses. He finally pulled back, breathing hard, his eyes red. “He’s just more obedient, isn’t he?” I took a drag. “At least his value is clear. I’ll see you on set.” He went back. The show was fine. My agent told me Julian was a robot when I was gone, but the second I was on set, he turned into the world’s most devoted lover for the cameras. Leo, hearing I was “suffering” with set catering, started bringing me gourmet meals. He’d feed me a pomegranate seed. On camera, Julian would feed his co-star a bite of pear. Leo would drape his coat over my shoulders. Julian would get on his knees and tie his co-star’s shoe. “Sister,” Leo whispered, “he’s so… performative. I could never be that familiar with another woman.” He smelled so good. I smiled. Julian saw it. His co-star’s heel broke. He swept her up into his arms and carried her, his eyes boring into me as he passed the monitors. I just turned to the director. “That was great footage. Make sure you get that in the final cut.” That night, he dragged me into a janitor’s closet, pressing me against the wall. “Why aren’t you jealous? Hm?” I put my hand on his throat. “Monogamy is a man’s best quality, Julian. If you’re not… exclusive… you’re worthless. Why would I fight over something worthless? “Don’t try to use other women to raise your own stock price. I’ll fight for a diamond. Not a piece of meat.” He looked… wrecked. “You… you’re comparing me to meat?” I just smiled and walked away. I went home to my good boy, who had dinner, a fruit platter, and a hot bath waiting. A woman works this hard… for this.

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My boyfriend and I were supposed to go skiing. He bailed. He booked an entire ski resort for her, his old flame. She sent me a video from the slopes, her voice all soft and breathy. “I had no idea Alex would ditch you for me… I’ll make him make it up to you next time, okay?” I replied calmly: “Have a great time. Don’t worry about the money.” Oh. She probably doesn’t know that the resort Alex booked? I own it. 1 When Alex got home, I was reviewing the quarterly profits for that exact resort. He walked in and handed me a gift box. “Stella, a present for you.” A green box. The complimentary gift for guests who spend over ten thousand dollars. I didn’t even have to open it. I knew it was a green, Christmas-themed snow globe. I looked up. “Have fun with Chloe?” He flinched—just for a second—then sighed, as if he was relieved. “So you found out. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to overthink it. “Chloe’s going through a nasty divorce, she’s in a bad place. I was just keeping her company. It’s not a big deal.” “Oh.” I nodded, my eyes still on my laptop. He stared at me, frowning. “Are you mad? Over this?” His voice was getting impatient. “Stella, that’s enough. I just got back. I’m tired.” He went to the bathroom to shower. His phone, left on the coffee table, lit up. A new message from Chloe. [Alex, is Stella mad? Should I explain it to her?] [But what if she gets even angrier seeing me?] For the first time, I saw the contact name he had for her: Little Miss Drama. Unlike me. In his phone, I was, and always had been, Stella. My full name. 2 I was the one who replied to Chloe. [No need to explain. Just apologize.] I sent it as a voice memo. [A wire transfer is the most sincere way.] Another voice memo. Chloe didn’t reply for a long time. And she definitely didn’t send any money. Alex came out of the shower, toweling his hair, and glanced at his phone. Then he looked up at me. Just then, Chloe’s reply finally came. Timid. [Stella? Why are you answering?] [Did you and Alex fight because of me? Please… please don’t fight. I’m the one who asked him to come…] Alex listened to hers, then played mine. [No need to explain. Just apologize.] [A wire transfer is the most sincere way.] He listened to mine twice. His face darkened. “Stella, is money all you care about?” “What else?” I asked, surprised. “You?” I opened the green box he’d given me, running a finger over the green, glittery peak of the globe. “And get a freebie from your spending on another woman?” Alex froze. The anger on his face turned into awkwardness. “The flight was a last-minute thing. I didn’t have time to get you a real gift. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” “Oh,” I nodded. “Cash is fine.” “Stella!” he snapped. I just looked at him, confused. I had no idea what he was so angry about now. We stared at each other for a long time. Finally, he gritted out, “You’re unbelievable.” He stormed off toward the guest room. SLAM. “…” Psycho. 3 Early the next morning, I was in the bedroom packing for a business trip. The second Alex opened the guest room door, his face went dark. “Stella, what are you doing? “Are you seriously running away from home this early? Is this ever going to end?” I frowned. “I have a business trip.” His expression softened slightly. He didn’t say anything. He just went to the bathroom. By the time he was done, I was dressed and ready. “Let’s go.” He blinked. “Go where?” “Your office. I need to pick up the proposal.” He finally remembered. The whole reason for the ski trip was that I was heading to Colorado to bid on the new mountain resort development. Halfway there, Alex turned the steering wheel. The car’s display lit up. Incoming call: Little Miss Drama. He instinctively glanced at me. I looked up. “Can’t answer?” He scowled. “Don’t be passive-aggressive.” He hit “accept.” Her voice chirped, “Alex, where are you? I’m all dressed and waiting!” Alex cleared his throat. “You should just grab an Uber. It’s not a good time for me.” Her voice faltered, then turned worried. “Alex, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” The car was silent. I laughed, softly. “Something did. His wife is in the car.” The other end went quiet for a long time. Then Chloe’s panicked voice came through. “Stella! I’m so sorry, I’m just causing trouble, I really didn’t mean anything, please don’t misunderstand…” “That’s enough.” Alex cut her off, frowning. He paused, and his voice softened. “Just get a car. I’ll see you at the office.” He hung up. He glanced at me while waiting at a red light. He hesitated. Then he explained: “Chloe’s living in a new place, it’s remote. It’s hard to get a car.” I almost laughed. “Are you looking for a ‘World’s Most Thoughtful Husband’ award?” Alex’s face instantly went blank. He stopped talking. 4 I printed a few extra copies of the proposal at his office. While I was having some tea, the office door was thrown open. Chloe stood there, her eyes red. “Alex, I still couldn’t get a car.” She was on the verge of tears, her wide, wet eyes fixed on him. “Is Stella still mad…? “So… can you still come pick me up…?” She looked devastated. “Does this mean… I can’t work at your company anymore?” I was sitting on the sofa, facing away from the door. I set my teacup down on the table with a clink. “Good tea,” I said, loud enough to be heard. Chloe’s face went white. She looked desperately at Alex. “Stella.” Alex’s voice was heavy, displeased. “You’re taking this too far.” In front of me, he buzzed his secretary. He had Chloe settled in a conference room first. Then he came back, locked his office door, and rubbed his temples. “Stop seeing her as a threat. She’s going through a divorce, she’s got no job, nowhere to live. I’m just… helping her out.” He made me laugh. “Just helping her out? “Helping her out so much she can just burst into your office without knocking? “Are the security and receptionists at your company dead? They just let strangers come right up?!” Alex’s expression cracked. “That’s enough, Alex. Stop being disgusting.” I sneered, grabbed the proposals, and walked out. Chloe was standing by the secretary’s empty desk. Our eyes met. She gave me a small, triumphant smirk. It was a look only another woman would understand. See? I’m taking your man. I stopped. I raised my voice. “Ms. Yao, what are you smiling at? Are you proud of yourself?” Her expression immediately shifted to panic. Alex pulled his door open. Chloe tugged nervously at her clothes. “I… I wasn’t smiling…” 5 Before boarding, I saw Chloe’s new Instagram story. A shot from the passenger seat. She was holding a bubble tea. One cup, two straws. A couple’s drink. The driver’s hand was in the shot, wearing an expensive watch. Instantly recognizable. Her caption: [It’s only good tea when you’re drinking it with the right person.] I liked it. Then I screenshotted it and forwarded it to Alex. He replied almost immediately. A voice memo. “Stella, Chloe’s place is far, I’m just dropping her home.” In the background, I could faintly hear Chloe’s panicked voice, “Oh no, I forgot to hide my story from Stella…” My voice was flat. “Next time you two get a room, tell her to hide that from me, too. Otherwise, it’s so hard for you to explain.” Alex’s call came in immediately. I looked at it. Declined. Airplane mode. It was snowing in Aspen. The flight was delayed. By the time I landed, it was night. My potential partner, Ethan Chen, picked me up himself and hosted a dinner. We talked about the resort development until midnight. My phone had been vibrating for ages. I finally picked it up. Alex’s voice was exhausted. “Why are you just answering now?” “Busy.” I kept it short. The dinner wasn’t over. Just before I hung up, a woman’s crying came from Alex’s end. “It’s so late… and I heard a man’s voice on Stella’s end… what if she’s in trouble… “Did you two fight again because of me…” She was sobbing. Alex, however, sounded panicked. “The construction on Chloe’s street… they blocked the road. I can’t leave. I just… came upstairs for a minute…” I paused. “No need to explain. You two spent seven days and seven nights at the resort together. This is nothing.” Alex was stunned. He couldn’t find a word to say. At the table, Ethan’s young assistant, already drunk, slurred, “Ms. Yu, taking a call means a penalty drink!” I smiled apologetically. “Alright.” Before I could hang up, Alex’s voice exploded from the phone. “You’re drinking? “With men?! “Stella, where are you?! Send me your location! I’ll come get you!” The strong liquor burned my throat. These mountain guys could really drink. I held up the phone, screen bright. I laughed. “Road’s blocked, remember? You can’t get out. You forgot?” Alex choked. I just hung up. Phone off. The assistant was already coming at me with another glass. Ethan blocked him. His voice was calm. “That’s enough. Easy on the drinks.” The drunk assistant sobered up instantly. He sat straight down. Ethan pushed a glass of fresh-squeezed juice in front of me. “Try this.” I don’t like orange juice. But I took a sip. “Not bad.”

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On the set of the talk show, the host asked, “Who’s the most two-faced person you know?” I pointed right at the movie star next to me. “Kian Chen. Total ice king in public, but his ‘Close Friends’ story is nothing but thirst traps.” The host blinked. “I’m serious,” I said. “It’s so narcissistic. Every day, it’s either a professional headshot or some ‘steamy’ bathroom mirror selfie. You know, the kind where the towel is barely hanging on? “Everyone here has seen it, right?” The other guests just shook their heads, wide-eyed. The live comments exploded. [So that’s why Kian Chen has been dyeing his hair a new color every week. He’s like a peacock trying to get her attention.] [Is this woman for real? He’s clearly in love with her. It’s targeted seduction!] [He has his Insta set to ‘Close Friends’ with ONE person. And she’s dragging him for it on live TV. This is hilarious.] 1 My villain role in our new show had just made me… complicated. Other actors get “buzz.” I get trending topics like: #ChloeBaiIsAVillainInRealLife [VIRAL] #ChloeBaiIsAToxicManipulator [VIRAL] A few “classmates” crawled out of the woodwork to claim I was a bully, “toxic and manipulative to my core.” I was, in industry terms, “infamous.” I wasn’t even supposed to be on this press junket. My agent had to move heaven and earth to get me a slot. “You’re on the panel with Kian Chen and Nina Li. You need this. Create some buzz.” Ugh. Kian Chen was the male lead, an Oscar winner, a notorious “ice king” who never smiled. Nina Li was the female lead, the new “it girl.” The show wanted us to perform a special segment. Two would dance, two would sing. I’m a Z-lister, but I’m a scrappy Z-lister. I can sing, dance, rap, whatever. Before I could choose, Nina Li slid into my DMs. “Chloe, I’m a terrible singer. Can I please do the dance segment?” I knew her game. Kian, despite being an actor, was a Julliard-trained dancer. He’d obviously choose dance. Nina was just trying to lock in her on-screen ship. Ever since the show, “Ki-Ni” was all anyone talked about. He was the unattainable star who’d suddenly signed on to a cheesy streaming drama, and she was the co-star he was supposedly seen smiling at. Fine. I went to the group chat and picked “singing.” Nina immediately picked “dancing.” And then, Kian Chen—the dance prodigy—picked “singing.” With me. I frowned. Can he even sing? He’d better not be tone-deaf and drag me down. 2 The day of the show, the third male lead canceled. They brought in a last-minute guest, a director just back from the States who was “jet-lagged.” So, Nina had to do a solo dance. And I was stuck in a duet with Kian. With the other male actors gone, it was just me, the female villain, in a white, high-slit dress, standing next to Kian in a black suit. I braced myself. The live chat was going to be a sewer. [Why is Chloe Bai so desperate? That slit is up to her ribs.] [How did she get a duet with Kian? That manipulative bitch probably stole Nina’s spot!] [Wait… is Kian into Chloe?] [If Kian likes Chloe, I will eat my own shoes.] [The leads are here to promote their romance, why is the villain even on stage?] [She’s wearing white to match his suit. Disgusting.] The host, trying to build hype, wanted us to re-enact a “famous scene.” Kian and Nina’s was the “choke-kiss.” The host conveniently stood in front of them, giving the audience a perfect, obscured view. The comments went insane. [THEY’RE DOING IT! HE’S KISSING HER! I AM DEAD! MY SHIP!] [This is it! They’re official!] When it was my turn, I hesitated. “Are you sure?” The chat filled with hate. I sighed, and began. I went into full-on “creepy stalker” mode, peering at them from behind a potted plant. I spied. I obsessed. Then, I did a perfect imitation of a 1950s housewife having a nervous breakdown, complete with fake-smashing a prop vase. It’s what my character did. All the time. The host stared. Kian stared. Nina stared. The chat went silent. “What?” I said. “That’s the character.” The atmosphere was weird. Nina forced a laugh. “Wow, Chloe. You’re such a good actress. I could never act like that.” The comments loved it. [Chloe, did you hear that? Nina just called you out. ‘Method acting.’] [I mean… I don’t think Chloe’s that good an actress. She’s just playing herself.] I just nodded earnestly at Nina. “Really? Well, if you can’t do it, you just need more practice.” Nina’s smile froze. 3 The host, panicking, moved us to a game. Eating watermelon, in pairs. The fastest pair gets to make the losers play “Truth or Dare.” Everyone expected Kian to pick Nina. He walked straight to me. “Ms. Bai. Be my partner?” I paused. “Open your mouth. Let me see your teeth.” I’m not losing because he has sensitive molars. The chat exploded. [KIAN, NO! WHY HER?] [Is she for real? She’s inspecting his teeth? Is she his dentist?] [Does Chloe Bai know what ‘manners’ are?] [NGL, that’s kind of hilarious. She’s so weird.] I agreed. I was paired with Nina. Kian was against the host. I got a hair tie, planted my feet in a solid horse stance, and held the melon. The second the buzzer went off, I went full human woodchipper. Two seconds, nothing left but rind. Nina had barely taken a bite. I held the rind aloft. American woman. We get it done. When Kian was up, I warned him, “You saw that, right? That’s the standard.” He nodded, dead serious. And then his veneer popped off. Me: “…” We lost. Kian chose “Truth.” His question: “How many letters are in the first name of the person you like?” He smiled, a tiny, private smile. “Four.” Beside me, Nina blushed and giggled. The chat was a nuclear meltdown. [I’M SCREAMING. N-I-N-A. FOUR LETTERS. IT’S NINA!] [MY SHIP! MY SHIP! I’M CRYING!] [I knew it! He picked Chloe to lose on purpose, just so he could get this question and confess to Nina! KIAN YOU SLY DOG!] Then it was my turn. Truth. “Who’s the most ‘two-faced’ person you know?” I was still mad about the tooth. “Kian Chen,” I said instantly. “Total ice king, right? But his ‘Close Friends’ story on Instagram is nothing but thirst traps. He posts every day. “It’s all professional-grade half-nudes. Bathroom mirror selfies, the towel’s about to fall off. ‘Wet look’ photos. Pool photos. Gym photos. “You’ve all seen them, right?” I’d added him on Insta after we were cast. I had to. It was polite. So I invented a system: I “like” every odd-numbered photo, and ignore the even ones. It was fair. I finished my rant. The host was just shaking his head. Nina looked furious. The chat… the chat was broken. [What is she… what? Thirst traps? What is she talking about?] [Wait. KIAN LIKES HER? CHLOE? C-H-L-O-E? THAT’S… not four letters.] [Oh my god. I just checked. Her name in Chinese… 白岫 (Bai Xiu)… IS TWO CHARACTERS. The host asked the question in Chinese first. He said two. NINA LI (李妮) IS ALSO TWO. KIAN MEANT HER. HE MEANT CHLOE BAI.] [He’s been thirst-trapping her this whole time?] [And she has no idea. He’s been agonizing over why she only ‘likes’ half his photos, and she just thinks he’s a narcissist. This is gold.] [The ‘ice king’ is trying to seduce her, and he’s failing. I’m dead.] [All those rumors about her being a slut… she seems completely clueless about men.] [Kian’s ‘Close Friends’ is set to ONE PERSON. HER. And she’s dragging him on TV for it!] [This is too good. It’s a tragedy. He’s playing chess, she’s eating the pieces.] The host turned to Kian. “Kian… is that… true?” Before Kian could speak, a producer ran on stage and whispered to the host. At the same time, our phones buzzed. Kian’s publicity team had just posted a statement. His social media accounts had been “hacked” a month ago. The posts weren’t his. And the “Close Friends” list was a “glitch.” The chat flipped. [I KNEW IT! My Kian would never!] [Damn hackers! So disgusting!] … I don’t know why, but when they said it wasn’t him… my stomach felt… sour. 4 After the game, the host announced the guest. “Chloe. Long time no see.” I froze. “Evan?” Evan Xie. My childhood best friend. When I was a kid, I said I wanted to be an actress. He said, “Okay, I’ll be a director.” His parents divorced. He moved to the US. We lost touch. And now he was here. He smiled at me, then took the mic. “Hi, everyone. I’m Evan Xie. I’m a director, and Chloe Bai’s childhood best friend.” The chat erupted again. [THE Evan Xie? The one who just graduated from USC and won at Cannes?] [HE’S HER BEST FRIEND? The way he looks at her…] [Did you catch that? ‘Chloe Bai’s best friend.’ He’s marking his territory. I love it.] Evan sat right next to me. Kian Chen looked like he’d just swallowed a rock. The host asked, “Evan, you’ve been in the ‘States for a long time. Why come back now?” Evan paused. “It wasn’t sudden. I’ve wanted to come back every day since I left. As for why… I came back for a person. “My best friend, Chloe.” I was so touched. I just smacked his shoulder. “Aww, Evan! You didn’t forget me!” The chat was screaming. [SHE IS SO DENSE. IT HURTS.] [Evan, you sweet, beautiful, lovesick fool. She has no idea.] [Is it just me or does Kian Chen look like he’s about to commit a felony?] I was ignoring all of it, catching up with Evan. “How was the food? All just sad desk salads?” “Worse.” “That explains it. You’re so thin your face is a hatchet.” Nina Li forced a laugh. “Wow, Chloe, you two are so close. You’re like a couple.” I just shook my head. “You really need to get your eyes checked, Nina.” She huffed. We wrapped the show. 5 We were booked at the show’s hotel. One room each. I’d just gotten out of the shower when someone knocked. It was Kian. Wearing nothing but a towel. “My shower’s broken,” he said. “Can I use yours?” My eyes… locked onto his abs. The water droplets. It was… just like the pictures. But… in 3D. I couldn’t look away. I swallowed. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.” This floor was all crew. It was fine. After he left, I was scrolling through Instagram. A new post from Kian. Two minutes ago. A close-up selfie. His hair was damp. I laughed. This “hacker” was so persistent. Thinking about how he’d embarrassed me with the tooth, I decided to mess with him. I commented: [Omg Kian so hot, I love it. Your abs are amazing. Why did you stop posting the other pics? I miss the towel ones.] I sent it and went to sleep. I woke up to my agent screaming my name. “CHLOE. WHAT DID YOU DO. CHECK YOUR PHONE.” I was trending. #ChloeBaiLovesKiansAbs #KianChenGotHisAccountBack #ChloeAndKian #KianChenSorry The most fatal one: Kian’s reply to my comment. [Sorry.] Me… what? I checked the comments. [LMAOOOOO CHLOE IS THE FUNNIEST PERSON ALIVE.] [Kian, you liar. ‘Hacked.’ Suuuure. You’ve been thirst-trapping her, and she’s been calling you on it!] [He’s just saying ‘Sorry’ ’cause he got caught! He’s definitely been laughing all night!] [She must have thought his account was still hacked! This is my new favorite ship!]

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After a fight with my husband, I went to my boyfriend for comfort. We were, unfortunately, discovered. My boyfriend stepped in front of me, glaring at my husband. “The one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.” I hissed, “Keep your voice down. Is this something to be proud of?” 1 Three years after I broke up with Leo, he texted me. “Still mad?” “Holding a grudge this long is childish, don’t you think?” “If you wait any longer, I might not give you another chance.” I stared at the messages, my thumb hovering over the ‘block’ button, as I was literally walking out the door to celebrate my second wedding anniversary. 2 I had no intention of replying to Leo. But that was before my dead-inside husband, Julian, bailed on our anniversary dinner, sending me a text after I’d already been waiting at the restaurant for two hours. He seemed to have just remembered. The message was brief and cold: “Sorry. A deal in Chicago hit a snag.” I stared at the screen. Leo’s texts kept buzzing. “Did you not get my message?” “It’s Leo. Hello?” “Fine. I’m sorry, okay? Was that what you wanted?” “…Please? I was wrong.” Zero f*cks given. Still, it was the first time Leo had ever apologized for anything. I toggled back to my chat with Julian. Our conversation history looked like it was generated by a bot. This merger-marriage was really the deal of a lifetime. I forwarded the restaurant’s address to Leo. He replied instantly: “Heh. What’s this?” “Asking me to dinner?” “Playing hard to get all this time, and now you’re this eager?” “I’ll see if I’m free in an hour.” I texted back: “10 minutes.” Leo: “?” “Is that your attitude?” “Don’t think I’m desperate to see you.” “Answer me.” Me: “Not coming. I’m leaving.” Leo: “…Can you do 20?” “15?” “…On my way. Don’t move.” 3 Leo slid into the booth at the eleven-minute mark, panting. He hadn’t changed much. Still had that entitled, arrogant air, but there was a new caution in his eyes when he looked at me. For someone who couldn’t shut up via text, he was surprisingly silent through the meal. Until the waiter brought out the cake I’d pre-ordered for the anniversary. Leo stared at the chocolate script: “Happy 2nd Anniversary.” His eyes filled with a dawning, horrified understanding. I just stared back, waiting. This was it. The fatal blow I’d waited three years to deliver. A perfect revenge for how he’d ended things. He finally spoke. “Wow, this place gives out free cake for their second anniversary? Nice gimmick.” I… I felt that specific, soul-crushing exhaustion of having to explain a punchline to a brick wall. 4 Fine. I’d just have to say it. As I opened my mouth, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Mia. “Sienna,” she yelled, “you will not believe what that bastard Julian is doing!” “He flew to Chicago on your anniversary to see his old flame!” “Get yourself to The Gilded Lily right now. I’m ordering eight escorts.” “My girl is not sitting at home feeling sorry for herself. Not on my watch.” She immediately sent a photo to prove it. Julian and some woman, standing side-by-side, perfectly framed. Damn. They looked good together. As for the escorts… I glanced at Leo, who was now eyeing the cake with suspicion. “No need,” I told Mia. “I’ve got a premium version right here.” 5 I had Leo drive me home. The second the door closed, I pushed him against it. Just as things were getting interesting, he actually pushed me away. His ears were red. “I didn’t come here for this.” “Sienna, these three years… did you ever miss me?” I brushed his hair back. “Yes. Are we doing this or not?” Leo’s eyes lit up. “It was all my fault before… Can we start over? For real?” I nodded. “Good. Are we doing this or not?” He gritted his teeth. “Is that seriously all you can think about?” “Yes,” I said. “Are we doing this or not?” “…Fine.” 6 And so, Leo and I became… well, cheaters. At first, I felt a flicker of guilt. But Julian was spending half his time in Chicago, so I figured the guilt in this marriage was pretty evenly distributed. Until two months later. Julian came home, looking exhausted but… content. He pulled me into a hug. “It’s done. I’m finished with the Chicago trips for a while.” What, you two break up? When I didn’t respond, he sighed. “I know I’ve been absent. This deal to acquire Étoile Jewelers… it was complicated.” I froze. “Étoile Jewelers?” That was only my favorite jewelry brand on the planet. Julian tucked my hair behind my ear. “Mhm. I’m having them design a custom piece for you. It should be ready next month.” “The shares are being transferred to your name. You’re the new majority stockholder.” “Consider it a late anniversary present.” I was reeling. “But… what about your old flame? Eliza?” Julian frowned. “What old flame? Who’s been feeding you gossip?” “Eliza is Étoile’s chief designer. She’s the one who brokered the deal for me. I couldn’t have done it without her.” Oh, crap. Then what did that make my last two months of adultery? 7 Tough luck for him, I guess. Now that the deal was done, Julian seemed intent on making up for his absence. He was suddenly… around. A lot. I tried to be the understanding wife. “You should get back to work. I’m fine, really. I’m happy.” He stroked my cheek. “You don’t have to be ‘fine’ all the time.” Wait, who was this? This wasn’t the Julian I married. I prodded, “You seem… different.” His eyes were warmer than I’d ever seen them. “Yeah. I… I wasn’t good at expressing things before. I know I let you down.” He paused. “Eliza told me something. That love isn’t real unless the other person can see it and feel it.” Eliza, you are screwing me right now.

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In a twisted game of life or death, the kidnappers gave my parents a choice. They chose my younger sister. I was executed without hesitation. When I opened my eyes again, I was in the body of a stranger. Her name was Nora. She had a grandmother who was bedridden and a mother with a permanent limp. They were dirt poor, living paycheck to paycheck, yet their home held the kind of warmth I had craved my entire life. One day, by chance, I ran into a woman who looked like she was losing her mind. She grabbed my arm and asked if I had seen her daughter. I looked at that familiar face—gone was the elegance of the socialite I once knew, replaced by the haggard look of a woman haunted by ghosts. I shook my head calmly. “No, I haven’t.” Her daughter died five years ago at the hands of kidnappers. She was the one who made the choice. 1 The warehouse smelled of rust and gasoline. My sister, Maya, and I were bound back-to-back, gags stuffed in our mouths. A camera on a tripod pointed directly at us. Behind the lens, the kidnapper ate a burger and laughed, watching a tablet screen. “Mr. Sterling, have you decided? Which of your precious daughters dies today?” Maya was sobbing into her gag, shaking violently. I just stared at the monitor. On the screen, my parents—usually the picture of composure and wealth—looked ten years older. They were begging. “Don’t touch them! We’ll give you whatever you want!” “Please, not the girls!” The kidnapper smashed a beer bottle against the wall. A shard grazed my cheek, drawing blood. “Sterling, you begging me now? When my company went under and I begged you for a loan, did you listen?” “Money is useless. I want blood. I’ll give you three minutes. Choose one to save. If the clock hits zero and you haven’t chosen, they both die.” The countdown began. A mechanical beeping that sounded like a death knell. Maya’s tears soaked my shoulder. Barely thirty seconds in, I heard my mother’s voice, shrill and desperate. “Save the little one! Save Maya!” “Don’t hurt my baby! Please!” I wasn’t surprised. I was the spare. Maya was the heir. But hearing it—hearing them trade my life for hers—broke something inside me that I didn’t know was still intact. My parents didn’t love me. Not really. The kidnapper dragged Maya to the far side of the room. He walked back to me and ripped the tape off my mouth. “Kid. You got one minute for last words.” My body was vibrating with fear. I looked at the screen. I wanted to scream, to curse them, to ask why. But my throat was dry. “Twenty seconds,” the man said, his voice sounding miles away. I looked at the camera. I couldn’t speak. I just let the tears fall. A moment later, cold steel slid across my throat. I lay on the concrete, watching my life pool around me in red. Like a candle flickering in a storm, I went out. 2 My life replayed like a movie reel. My name was Lily Sterling. Until I was ten, I thought I had two mothers. One in real life, and one in a phone. The real one was my Aunt Elena. The phone one was my biological mother. When I was three, the family business hit a crisis. To “protect” me from the instability, I was sent to live with Aunt Elena. She was young, single, an artist who smelled of coffee and paint. She was the one who held me when I had nightmares. She was the one who braided my hair and bought me dresses. When I was seven, she told me my mother had given birth to a sister, Maya. She said I’d be going back soon because the family was wealthy again. I asked, “Can I eat less food? If I eat less, can I stay?” Elena cried that night. I returned to the Sterling estate when I was ten. I walked into a mansion that felt like a museum. And there was Maya—three years old, clinging to our mother, who looked at her with a tenderness I had never seen. I was the intruder. Maya was the sun; I was the shadow. Maya was allergic to nothing; I was allergic to seafood. My parents constantly forgot. They’d order shrimp for dinner and then look at me with vague annoyance when I couldn’t eat. But Maya… Maya loved me. She was the only one who didn’t treat me like a guest. She’d sneak into my bed during thunderstorms. She’d tell everyone, “My big sister is the best.” So, at fourteen, when we were kidnapped for the first time by human traffickers, I protected her. We were saved by a boy named Julian, another victim who managed to get help. I took a beating meant for Maya that put me in the ICU for weeks. My parents cried then. But they looked at me with guilt, not love. 3 I woke up from the darkness five years after my execution. I wasn’t Lily anymore. I was Nora. A high school senior who had fallen into a river trying to save a child. The original Nora hadn’t made it, and somehow, my soul had taken up residence. It took me a week to stop waking up screaming, clutching a throat that had no scar. Nora’s life was hard. Her mother, Sarah, was a disabled widow who ran a soup-and-sandwich food truck. Her grandmother, Nana, was paralyzed from a stroke. But the love in this cramped, drafty apartment was suffocating in the best way. Sarah would massage my legs after a long day. She’d save the best cut of meat for my bowl. She looked at me like I was the entire world. “Eat up, Nora,” she’d say, watching me with soft eyes. “You need your strength for finals.” I realized then: This was what I had wanted my whole life. 4 One Sunday, Sarah took me to the old stone chapel on the hill to light candles for good luck on my upcoming exams. The chapel was busy. A memorial service was finishing up. I stepped out into the courtyard to wait for Sarah. The wind was rustling the autumn leaves of a massive oak tree. That’s when she grabbed me. My biological mother. She looked terrible—hair graying, eyes wild. “Have you seen her?” she begged, gripping my arm. “Have you seen my Lily?” Time stopped. Five years. She looked destroyed. I gently removed her hand. My voice was steady. “No. I haven’t.” She collapsed onto the pavement, sobbing. “Has anyone seen my daughter…” I watched her for a moment. The memorial service was for me. It was the fifth anniversary of my death. I felt nothing. No hate. No love. Just a quiet emptiness. Her daughter died in that warehouse. She chose Maya. This was the result. 5 A week later, a new transfer student walked into my classroom. “Everyone, welcome Maya Sterling.” She walked in like a storm cloud. She was taller now, beautiful but cold. She wore a hearing aid in her left ear—a souvenir from the kidnapping five years ago. The class whispered. “That’s the Sterling girl.” “I heard she’s cursed. She survived the kidnapping, but her sister got her throat slit right in front of her.” “They say she’s crazy. A total psycho.” Maya sat next to me. She slammed her books down and put her head on the desk. She didn’t speak to anyone. She slept through classes. She was openly hostile. One day, I saw a guy mocking her in the hallway. “Hey, deaf girl. Is it true your parents traded your sister for you? How does it feel to be the favorite?” Maya didn’t cry. She picked up a heavy metal thermos and smashed it into his forehead. Blood everywhere. I stood at the top of the stairs. “Maya,” I called out. She looked up, eyes wild. “Teacher’s coming,” I lied. “Get out of here.” She looked at me, then ran.

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