The day my kidney stones flared up, Caleb left me stranded on the expressway. All because his childhood sweetheart called, crying about a broken pipe in her house. I begged him not to leave me there alone, but his face was a mask of cold indifference as he rolled up the window. “Call yourself a cab to the hospital.” By the time the ambulance got me there, I had already passed out from the pain three times. I was admitted, waiting for surgery. I called Caleb over a dozen times; he rejected every single one instantly. Then I saw a post on his sweetheart Anya’s Instagram story. “You mischievous boy… fixing a pipe and you got me all wet…” The picture showed Caleb’s strong, veined hands, gently dabbing a towel on the hem of Anya’s ridiculously short skirt. Later, after I recovered and was discharged, I took a solo trip to the old coastal town of Seacliff Harbor for a week. Suddenly, Caleb, who hadn’t contacted me in over ten days, started blowing up my phone like a madman. “Lina, why haven’t you been checking up on me?!” 1 Returning from Seacliff Harbor, I finally answered Caleb’s twenty-eighth call. “Lina, you haven’t been home for days. Where the hell did you go?” The accusation hit me the second I picked up. I didn’t answer, just walked calmly out of the airport terminal. It was rush hour, impossible to get a ride, so I waited by the curb. Eventually, it was Caleb who pulled up to get me. He got out, took my suitcase, and his voice dripped with sarcasm. “You vanished for so long, I almost thought you’d run away for good. But look at you, crawling back like you always do.” He continued, his tone shifting to one of command. “Our IVF appointment is in a few days. The doctor said this cycle is critical. You need to get yourself ready and stop running around.” He said it all while opening the passenger-side door for me. A cloying wave of women’s perfume hit me, so thick it made my stomach turn. I never wear perfume. “I’ll sit in the back,” I said, taking two steps back and pulling open the rear door myself. Caleb didn’t say anything. The car filled with a tense silence, so I put on my headphones and disappeared into my music. While we were stopped at a red light, he suddenly spoke. “Why are you sitting back there?” I couldn’t hear him over the music. “What?” Caleb turned to look at me, his eyes sharp. “I remember you used to insist on sitting in the passenger seat.” I remembered. Back then, I was trying to be one of those girls you see online, the cherished ones. I thought the passenger seat was the wife’s throne. I even bought one of those cutesy stickers and put it on the dashboard. Of course, that didn’t stop Caleb from letting his precious Anya sit there behind my back. Three months ago, I’d stumbled upon some dashcam footage Caleb hadn’t deleted properly. It was from a night when I was crippled with stomach pain, begging him to take me to the ER. He’d refused me coldly, only to immediately race off to pick up Anya for a concert. In the footage, Anya was in my seat, cooing at him. “Caleb, I haven’t seen you in days. I missed you!” His voice was a soft murmur. “I’m driving, don’t mess around.” “Then pull over for a second!” Soon, the car was parked on the side of the road. I heard the click of unbuckling seatbelts, followed by the soft, breathless sounds of intimacy. Later, I found a used condom under the passenger seat. After that, the seat didn’t seem so special anymore. “Lina?” Caleb’s voice pulled me from the memory. He’d parked the car and was staring at me. I took off my headphones and managed a small smile. “It’s nothing. I just realized how childish I was being before.” We arrived at our apartment building. I got out first and went straight to the trunk for my luggage. I’d barely taken a few steps when Caleb called my name, catching up to me. He tossed a wedding ring at me, the metal glinting under the streetlights. “Lina, can you stop being so careless all the time? If you can’t even keep track of a ring, how are you ever going to take care of our child?” I looked at the ring in his hand—a woman’s wedding band, identical to my own. “It’s not mine,” I said flatly. I held up my hand, showing him the ring already secure on my finger. Understanding dawned on Caleb’s face, followed by a flash of panic. He quickly shoved the ring into his pocket. “Oh, right. I gave a ride to someone the other day… a rideshare passenger must have dropped it. I’ll return it to her.” I watched the pathetic display, his acting skills as clumsy as ever. I knew exactly whose ring it was. Anya’s. It was an eight-year-old design, hard to find now. But to keep his little sweetheart happy, Caleb had a perfect replica made, a mirror image of mine. I didn’t say another word, just pulled my suitcase and started walking. Caleb hurried after me. “Let me get that.” I glanced at my watch. “We’ve got time this afternoon. Let’s go to the clinic.” If I was going to cancel, I needed to do it in advance. 2 Hearing this, Caleb let out a short, mocking laugh. “The appointment is in three days. What’s the rush?” “Let’s just get it over with. I have things to do later.” He waited for me downstairs, then floored it to the fertility clinic. Walking inside, Caleb scanned the crowded waiting room and frowned. “Lina, can you try to pull it together this time? All these failed IVF rounds… isn’t it obvious the problem is with your body? The doctor said you need to relax. Stop walking around with that long face all the time, it’s not helping you get pregnant…” I looked up at his face, a perfect picture of self-righteous indignation. For eight years of marriage, Caleb had a low sperm count. We tried for years to conceive naturally, but couldn’t. IVF was our only option. For me, the egg retrieval process was pure agony. But I endured it gladly, all for the dream of having a child that was ours. Now, none of that mattered anymore. I was about to speak when his phone rang. He answered without hesitation. A sickly-sweet voice purred through the speaker. “Caleeeeb~ My water heater’s broken again. I don’t suppose my favorite Mr. Fix-it has a moment to spare?” A smile touched Caleb’s lips, but it vanished the moment he looked back at me. He hung up, jangling his car keys. His voice was cold and final. “Something urgent came up. We’ll reschedule the IVF.” It wasn’t a discussion. It was a declaration. He was so sure I would just obey, just accept it. “Caleb,” I tried, “it’ll only take ten minutes. It won’t make you late.” He shook my hand off his arm. “The appointment was for three days from now. You’re the one who insisted on coming today. I don’t have time to indulge you!” I watched him walk away without a backward glance and drive off. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. It didn’t matter. I could cancel the appointment on my own. “Excuse me,” I said to the receptionist. “I’d like to cancel the IVF appointment for three days from now. And you can go ahead and close my file, too.” This meant I was giving up on IVF entirely. The receptionist looked up, surprised. “Are you sure? If we close the file, all your previous cycles will have been for nothing.” I nodded. “I’m sure.” After leaving the clinic, I remembered the postnatal care suite I’d pre-booked. I canceled that too. Once all the loose ends were tied, I walked into a bustling hot pot restaurant. Surrounded by the fragrant steam, I started composing a new social media post. My week in Seacliff Harbor had been beautiful. The photos deserved to be shared. I chose nine of the best, arranging them in a grid, and added a single word as the caption: “Fulfilled.” Likes and comments started pouring in, including one from Anya. A few minutes later, she updated her own feed. It was a picture of Caleb’s profile, his face a mask of concentration as he worked. “My childhood hero is always so reliable. All it takes is one call, and he drops everything to come running!” A stream of “OMG goals!” and heart emojis flooded her comments. I casually liked her post, then put my phone down and focused on my meal. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was Caleb. 3 I declined the call. He called back immediately. After this happened several times, I finally answered. “Lina, you went to Seacliff Harbor alone?” His voice was laced with anger. In the background, I could hear the faint sound of running water, like a shower. “We were supposed to go together when I had time, remember? What’s the point of you going on a trip by yourself? We talked about this, we were going to take our first family portrait there after the baby was born…” He droned on and on, and a wave of weariness washed over me. “I just felt like going, so I went,” I said simply. For eight years, I had asked him to take me to Seacliff Harbor. It was my mother’s dying wish for me. But every single time, Caleb had an excuse. “Lina, I’m just too busy right now. We’ll go when things calm down.” “I can’t get away from the office. Maybe in a few weeks.” “Let’s wait until the baby is born, then we’ll all go together.” “I don’t have time!” … By last year, he didn’t even bother making excuses. Just a flat, impatient refusal. I was done waiting. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up now.” I didn’t wait for a reply. I pressed the red icon and let out a long, slow breath. I felt… free. When I got home that night, the living room lights were on, filled with the sound of a man and a woman laughing. I pushed the door open. The two of them froze and turned to look at me. “Lina, what took you so long?” Caleb asked, standing up to take my coat. There was an edge of annoyance in his voice. My gaze drifted calmly to Anya. “Why did you bring her here?” Anya looked down, feigning shyness. “Oh, Lina, I’m so sorry. I was just in town for a business trip, and Caleb said I could crash here for a night. You don’t mind, do you?” Caleb glanced at her, then frowned at me. “Lina, if you mind, I’ll get her a hotel room.” “I don’t mind.” Their eyes both widened in disbelief. “Really?” I smiled. “You two are childhood sweethearts. You’ve been inseparable since you were kids. Why would I mind?” With that, I turned and walked toward the study. “Lina,” Caleb called from behind me. I didn’t stop. I just closed the study door behind me. I focused on my laptop, losing track of time until Caleb knocked for the fifth time. “Lina, are you really not angry?” Every other time he’d tried to have Anya stay over, it had ended in a massive fight. I’d accuse him of having no boundaries; he’d call me jealous and unreasonable. We’d go in circles, and it would end with us sleeping in separate rooms. My calm acceptance was clearly unnerving him. He kept asking, probing, making sure I wasn’t upset. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Caleb, I told you, I really don’t mind. What are you so worried about? You two could sleep in the same bed, and I wouldn’t think twice.” He studied my face, searching for any sign of anger. Finding none, he finally let out a long sigh of relief. “Okay, good. She’s only staying one night. She’ll be gone tomorrow.” 4 The sound of the shower started up in the bathroom. “Caleb, can you bring me a towel!” Anya’s syrupy voice called out. “Coming!” he answered, without a hint of irritation. He grabbed a spare towel and took it to her. “Be careful, the floor’s wet. I don’t want you to slip.” His voice was impossibly gentle. I thought about the times I’d forgotten a towel and asked for his help. He’d always snap, “Can’t you do one simple thing right? What are you good for?” I finally understood. It was never about what was done wrong. It was about who was doing it. At ten, Caleb knocked on the study door again. “When are you coming to bed?” I didn’t even look up from my screen. “You go ahead. I’m sleeping in here tonight.” The apartment soon fell silent. I don’t remember when I fell asleep. When I woke up again, it was three in the morning. I was about to get up for a glass of water when I heard hushed voices coming from the master bedroom. “Caleb, don’t you think this is… exciting?” A low grunt from Caleb, then his strained voice. “Don’t. My wife’s right in the study. It’ll be a mess if she finds out.” Anya persisted for a while longer. Finally, Caleb relented with a sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell her I’m working late tomorrow night. I’ll spend the whole night with you then.” I let out a derisive snort and shut my laptop. The next morning, I went to the office early. By the time Caleb’s call came through, I had already submitted the resignation letter I’d written the night before. My boss was stunned. “Lina, you’re at a crucial point in your career. Why resign now? Is there a problem? Maybe I can help.” I thanked him for his kindness but just smiled. “I’m just ready to try living in a different city.” He sighed, but didn’t press. He approved my resignation quickly. Caleb, of course, knew none of this. He had just woken up, his voice thick with sleep when he called. “Hey, babe. Want me to get you some breakfast?” “I’ve already eaten,” I said coolly. In the first few years of our marriage, Caleb always bought me breakfast. Adorable bento boxes, things he’d clearly put a lot of thought into. But then came the day I took a bite of a crab roe bun he’d brought home. His face had instantly turned to stone. “Are you that greedy? That was for a client!” He’d screamed the ugliest things at me. But I knew it wasn’t for a client. It was for Anya. She’d posted on Instagram about craving crab roe buns, and he, as always, had rushed to grant her every little wish. Caleb was silent on the phone for a long moment. “Okay… well, wait for me at home tonight. I’ll come back early and cook for you.” We had to get divorced sooner or later. I had just printed the divorce papers. “Okay,” I agreed easily. 5 So that’s why Caleb was so insistent on cooking dinner. He wanted something from me. “Honey, Anya’s been a huge help to the company lately. She doesn’t want much, just five percent of the company’s shares.” He said this as he placed the last dish on the table. A full, fragrant feast was spread before us. But his words left a bitter taste in my mouth, and my appetite vanished. I put down my chopsticks. “Alright,” I said with a small laugh. I went to the study to print out the share transfer agreement. When I came back, Caleb was still staring at me, dumbfounded. “Honey, you… you agreed?” He couldn’t believe it. In the past, anything involving Anya would have triggered a week-long war. But now, all I felt was a placid calm. I was leaving this city, leaving this life. None of it mattered anymore. It had nothing to do with me. “I’ve already signed my part. You’re the CEO, you just need to sign in three places.” He didn’t even bother to read it. He just grabbed a pen, scrawled his name, and handed the papers back to me. His whole demeanor softened. He even got up to ladle some soup into my bowl. “You know, you’ve been so much gentler lately. When we have our baby, our family is going to be so happy…” I didn’t reply. I just sipped my soup, thinking to myself: There is no ‘we’ anymore. Caleb left early the next morning. I’d seen his texts the night before; he wouldn’t be back for several days. Anya was dragging him on a trip, demanding his full attention to tour her new “office” and then get away for a bit. It would probably take a while. It was the perfect window. I called a real estate agent and listed the apartment for sale. This apartment, the one we lived in, was something I’d bought outright with five years of my own savings. It was meant to be my pre-marital asset, my safety net. But back then, Caleb was broke, couldn’t even afford his own rent. He just moved in with me. Over the years, as his company grew, he never mentioned moving. Whenever I brought it up, he’d just smile and say, “We’ve built so many memories here. Let’s just call it our marital home.” He promised to give me all the money he earned. And for the first few years, he did. Then it trickled down to just company dividends. Then I found out that when Anya moved to the city and needed a place to live, Caleb had bought her a two-story penthouse duplex. It was worth ten times what my apartment was. Since I was leaving, it was time to sell my property. The apartment was in a great location with excellent amenities. I priced it to sell, and it was gone in three days. After that, I sold off the rest of my shares in Caleb’s company and transferred half of our joint marital assets into my account. And then, I left the city for good. A week later, Caleb returned from his trip with Anya. On the way home, he stopped at a luxury mall and bought an expensive Chanel handbag. Anya beamed as he emerged with the box. “How did you know this was the exact one I’ve been wanting?” Caleb pulled the bag back protectively. “It’s not for you.” The smile froze on her face. A flicker of tenderness crossed Caleb’s features as he thought of me. “It’s for my wife. She’s been so gentle and understanding lately. No crying, no fighting… she’s given me everything I’ve asked for. She’s wanted this bag for ages. Think of it as a little reward.” But when he got home, swinging the shopping bag with a smug smile, his key wouldn’t turn in the lock. He frowned and knocked. “Lina?” The door swung open. Caleb lifted the bag, ready to present his surprise, but his expression soured in an instant. A burly man stood in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, looking him up and down. “Who the hell are you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385857”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At a downtown high-society auction, where elites traded vanity and prestige, my private photos were the star lot. My childhood friend Nathaniel Rivers, just to amuse his date, had his friends drive up the bid—forcing me to fight for my dignity. Desperate, I planned to call my other childhood friend Mikkal Thorne for help. But during the auction break, I overheard their call. “You’re the mastermind, Mikkal,” Nate smirked. “Taking Lydia’s photos while she was passed out drunk. Now she’ll never dare cross Stella.” “I hired someone to take them,” Mikkal replied coolly. That’s when it clicked. Two months ago, my abduction, three days of torment and humiliation—it was all their game. A way to leverage me for Stella. “Just photos, no big deal,” Mikkal added. “When Lydia calls, play your part.” A bitter laugh escaped me. I slipped my phone into my purse and returned to the hall. When the auctioneer asked if I’d keep bidding, I glanced at Nate. “I withdraw.” I give up. On everything. I don’t want it anymore. 1. The moment the words left my mouth, the color drained from Nathaniel’s face. He never expected me to fold. “Lydia, do you have no self-respect? Are you really going to let your photos fall into some stranger’s hands?” I looked at him, my expression a mask of pain. “Weren’t you the one who put them up here for everyone to bid on?” My question choked him. His shock morphed instantly into rage. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one who has no shame, fooling around, getting yourself photographed like that. And now you’re blaming me?” Stella, the girl beside him, chimed in, her voice dripping with indignation. “Lydia, Nate has been so good to you. How can you slander him like this?” Her tear-filled eyes made Nate’s heart ache with protective tenderness. I couldn’t stand to watch their nauseating performance any longer. I turned and walked away. My phone was vibrating incessantly in my purse. It was Mikkal. Are you that eager to play your part, Mikkal? So eager to join Nate in trampling on what’s left of me? 2. I answered the call just outside the auction hall. “Lydia? I heard what happened. Why didn’t you call me? I would have helped you, you know I would.” Mikkal was still in the dark. He was playing his role to perfection. “How would you have helped?” I asked, my voice flat and cold. He was too wrapped up in his performance to notice the chill in my tone. “I’ll get the photos back for you, don’t worry.” “But… you know Nate and I owe Stella’s mom. We just want to repay that debt.” I knew. They talked about it all the time. When they were kids, they’d been kidnapped, and Stella’s mother had died saving them. That’s what they said. So, ever since, they treated Stella like a princess. If it ever came down to a choice between me and her, I was always the one who had to step aside. They were always repaying that debt, favor after favor. And I was always caught in the fallout, with no choice in the matter. I had worked tirelessly, clawing my way to an opportunity that would finally prove my worth, that would finally set me free from them. A single, coveted position at a prestigious research institute. But Stella had gone to them again, demanding I give it up for her. When I refused, they resorted to this. Maybe I truly couldn’t stay by their side any longer. Mikkal was still talking. “Just give her the spot at the institute. You have me, Lydia. Anything you ever want, I’ll give it to you.” I touched the necklace around my neck, the one my mother gave me before she died. She’d made me promise not to blame Nate and Mikkal. She said she didn’t regret taking a bullet for them, because she knew they would take care of me for the rest of their lives. I fought to keep my voice from trembling. “Fine. I’ll do it.” Mikkal, ecstatic, hung up immediately. I wiped a tear from my eye and sent a text. Dr. Moss, I’ll take the field assignment. I’ll be ready to leave with you on Saturday. 3. I was in my room packing when Nate and Stella got home. Seeing my open suitcase, Nate sneered. “I almost thought you’d grown a spine and were actually leaving. But you’re just as pathetic as ever. You’d rather give up your career than lose the roof over your head, wouldn’t you? Leeching off my family is all you know how to do.” He thought I was unpacking, putting my clothes back. Stella smiled, looping her arm through his. “Oh, Nate, don’t be so harsh. Lydia’s just been in love with you since we were kids. She can’t bear to be away from you.” Nate’s face twisted in disgust. “Being loved by a bitch in heat is nothing to be proud of.” I didn’t understand why he had become so cruel. “What did I ever do to you?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. He didn’t understand it either. This was all supposed to be an act he and Mikkal had cooked up. But the fact that I had called Mikkal for help, not him, had lit a fire of pure resentment in his gut. “Am I wrong? You’ve lived off my family your whole life. Now your wings are grown and you think you can just fly away? You just want to be free to sleep around, don’t you?” He grew more agitated with every word, finally kicking a box I had placed at the foot of my bed. Its contents spilled across the floor. Dolls, trinkets, little keepsakes—all gifts from him and Mikkal. “Pathetic,” he spat. “Pretending you’re so tough, but you can’t even leave without clinging to our things.” He was so focused on humiliating me that he didn’t see the word I had written on the side of the box in black marker: DISCARDS. Stella shot me a contemptuous look, then turned to Nate with a pout. “Mikkal already booked a table for us. We should get ready, we don’t want to keep him waiting.” Nate’s expression softened as he stroked her hair. Stella blushed, then glanced back at me. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Lydia. They’re just celebrating me getting the job at the institute. It’s not like they have feelings for me.” Hearing this, Nate looked at me, waiting for a reaction. I gave him nothing. “Why are you wasting your breath on her?” he said impatiently. “She’s a jobless nobody. From now on, she’ll be groveling at our feet just to survive.” With that, they ignored me, changed their clothes, and left. 4. The next day, while running errands, I bumped into Alex, a colleague from the institute. He looked surprised at the papers in my hand. “I didn’t think you’d go. I’m surprised you agreed to the assignment.” The field mission was notoriously difficult. I had turned it down before, unwilling to leave the only life I’d ever known. But now, I had to be responsible for myself. I needed to discuss some research protocols with Dr. Moss ahead of time, so after finishing my paperwork, I went with Alex to the institute. At the entrance, I ran into Stella and the others. Mikkal looked surprised to see me. “Lydia, you promised me you wouldn’t come here.” I didn’t want to cause a scene. “Dr. Moss has been very kind to me. I just wanted to apologize to her in person.” But Stella wasn’t having it. “The institute is only hiring one person this year. Not just any stray can wander in. I’ve already met with Dr. Moss and we had a lovely chat.” She waved a file folder in the air. Alex, standing beside me, clearly disliked her attitude. “The institute values character as much as it values ability.” His words made Stella’s face burn. Mikkal’s expression soured. “Lydia, since when do you associate with people like this? Tell him to apologize to Stella.” “This is Alex,” I said, my face a blank mask. “He’s one of the lead researchers on a major project here.” Stella’s demeanor changed in a heartbeat. She beamed. “Oh, a senior researcher! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Stella. I’ll be your new colleague.” Alex didn’t even glance at her. He just guided me away. Behind us, Stella stomped her foot in frustration. Mikkal watched me walk away, a thoughtful look on his face. He calmly pulled out his phone and made a call. “The plan is still on. But I want it done fast. All over the internet in thirty minutes.” 5. I stayed at the institute until evening. When I finally checked my phone to note the time, a breaking news notification caught my eye. I clicked on it. And there I was. Photos of me in every degrading position imaginable, humiliated beyond recognition. My blood ran cold. The world froze. I collapsed into my chair. How could this happen? I already gave them what they wanted. Why won’t they just leave me alone? The memories of those three nights came rushing back, a suffocating nightmare. Overwhelmed, I grabbed a utility knife from the desk and, without a second thought, dragged it across my wrist. Just then, Dr. Moss and Alex burst in. Seeing the blood, the photos on my screen, Dr. Moss understood everything. She had been my parents’ colleague; she had watched me grow up. She knew I wasn’t the kind of person they portrayed me to be. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. The dam broke. I sobbed into her shoulder, telling her everything. She comforted me, her voice a soothing balm, promising she wouldn’t abandon me, promising we would leave this toxic place behind soon. I returned to the Rivers’ mansion in a daze. Stella opened the door. Her face was a picture of false concern, her eyes dancing with triumph. “Oh, Lydia. Your photos are everywhere. It’s just awful. I feel so, so sorry for you.” As she spoke, she gestured, showing off the ruby necklace and ring she was wearing. Weren’t those my mother’s? The last things she left me? I kept them hidden away, safe. How did she have them? Nate walked up behind her. “Someone leaked your photos. Stella was worried sick about you all afternoon, so I gave them to her to cheer her up.” He said it so casually, as if he’d just given away a cheap trinket. I ignored him and held out my hand. “Give them back.” Nate was taken aback by my defiance. He scoffed. “Your mother’s dead. They’re useless to you anyway. The institute is having a welcome party tomorrow. Stella can wear them and make a good impression.” I didn’t hesitate. I lunged at Stella, my hands closing around her throat. “Give. Them. Back.” 6. My ferocity must have stunned Nate. He just stood there, frozen. But Mikkal, who had just walked in, reacted instantly. He kicked me hard in the small of my back, sending me flying. Stella, gasping for air, scrambled into Mikkal’s arms, sobbing hysterically. Her cries snapped Nate out of his stupor, and he rushed to her side, checking for injuries. The two of them held her, stroking her back, murmuring comforting words. I lay on the floor, coughing up blood. The gash on my wrist had torn open again, blood pooling on the polished hardwood. My vision blurred, the image of the three of them locked in an embrace swimming before my eyes. It was like I was twelve again. The day my mother died. The three of us had clung to each other just like that. They had promised me, promised they would take care of me forever. A bloody laugh bubbled up from my chest, shattering their tender moment. Nate stalked over to me and stomped on my bleeding wrist. “What’s with the act? You almost choked Stella to death, and now you’re spitting up blood for sympathy?” “I’m telling you, even if you die here tonight, this isn’t over.” The pressure on my wrist intensified. A scream of agony tore through me. I could feel the bones grinding, felt his intention to snap my hand in two. Just then, Mikkal spoke. “That’s enough. We need to get Stella to the hospital.” He lifted her into his arms. As he passed me, he leaned down and whispered, his voice laced with venom. “You’re the one who killed your own mother. You don’t deserve to wear her necklace. Stop taking it out on innocent people.” I killed my mom? He was right. If I hadn’t begged her to go save them from the kidnappers, she would still be alive. It was my fault. All of this was my penance. “Hahaha… penance… it’s all my penance…” I struggled to my feet and stumbled out of the house. After a while, I saw lights in the distance. I tried to raise my hand, but the world tilted, and I slammed into the ground. 7. When I woke up, I was alone in a hospital room. A nurse saw I was awake and looked at me with pity. “We saved your hand,” she said softly. “But I’m afraid you may never regain full dexterity.” Her voice was full of regret, but I felt a strange sense of peace. Let this hand be the proof. The proof that the bond between us is finally, irrevocably broken. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, ready to check myself out. A message from Dr. Moss said she was coming to pick me up. I had to go back and get my things. At the payment counter in the lobby, I ran into Mikkal. His face hardened when he saw me. “Didn’t I tell you to leave Stella alone? What are you doing here?” “Nate and I see her as a sister. She has no one else. We’re all she has. What is your problem?” I looked at him, listened to his words, and felt… nothing. The storm inside me had finally passed. “It won’t happen again. Never again.” Mikkal, assuming I was there to cause more trouble, was stunned by my reply. But then he remembered my past “outbursts” and his expression hardened again. “Stella has the welcome party tonight. You hurt her badly. You should give her the necklace and ring as an apology.” I nodded silently. “Fine.” Mikkal froze. He hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. He must have figured I’d finally realized I was in the wrong. “And your parents’ research data,” he added. “Give that to Stella, too. As a congratulatory gift.” That research was my parents’ life’s work. Dr. Moss had given it to me for my eighteenth birthday. And he was telling me to just hand it over. “Fine.” My immediate agreement seemed to unsettle him. He looked at me as if he’d never seen me before. “Alright, Lydia. After we celebrate Stella tonight, Nate and I will throw a party for you, too. To wash away all this bad luck. I’ll invite all our friends.” He said it without a hint of irony, completely oblivious to the fact that those “friends” had already passed my photos around, calling me a cheap, used-up whore. He was only thinking of Stella, of how much she loved big, lively parties. He was still talking when another voice cut him off. “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing standing here?” 8. Nate saw me behind Mikkal, and his face contorted with rage. “You have the nerve to show your face here? Do you want to lose your other hand, too?” Mikkal quickly stepped between us. “Lydia has realized her mistake. She’s agreed to give Stella the jewelry as an apology, and she’s even giving her your parents’ research data.” Nate’s expression softened slightly. “Then I’ll let it go for now. But last time, Stella spent a fortune at the auction to buy back your photos for you. You may not have kept them safe, but you still owe her the money.” Mikkal said nothing, tacitly agreeing. “I’ve already taken the liberty of transferring all the assets your parents left you into Stella’s name,” Nate continued. “And that house of yours… I had it demolished. We’re rebuilding. So don’t go there anymore. It would upset Stella to see it.” “From now on, you’ll stay at our house. You’ll have food and a roof over your head. No one will mistreat you.” I stared at him, horrified. Was he trying to erase my entire past? To destroy everything my parents had left me? A silent tear rolled down my cheek, and Nate stopped talking. His throat seemed to tighten, as if he couldn’t speak. Mikkal noticed my distress and was about to say something comforting when Stella appeared. Instantly, they were both at her side, fussing over her. I didn’t look back. I turned and walked away. They wanted to say more, but they figured they would have plenty of time to explain everything to me after tonight. They didn’t follow. At eight o’clock that evening, I picked up the suitcase I had left by the door. I placed the house key on the counter and closed the door on the prison that had been my home for fifteen years. Outside the institute, Stella, dressed to the nines, clung to Nate and Mikkal’s arms. Tonight, she was going to be the star. The institute’s director stood at the podium, beaming. He spoke of his pride in the younger generation’s spirit of self-sacrifice and said he wanted to personally praise this year’s brilliant new recruit. In the audience, Stella was trembling with excitement. She had finally surpassed me. She had finally earned their recognition. Nate and Mikkal, beaming with pride, stood ready to cheer when the director announced her name. The director continued. “This year’s new recruit, Miss Lydia Croft, is an exceptional talent. She has already departed with Dr. Moss to the front lines to participate in a new research project.” From their seats, Nate and Mikkal shot to their feet. “What did you just say?”

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My husband’s childhood sweetheart got blackout drunk one night and was taken advantage of. When she reappeared, she was pregnant—just like me. The day I gave birth, Blake handed me divorce papers. “Sophia is planning her comeback,” he said, his voice flat. “She needs a clean slate—a husband, a father for her child. A scandal like this would destroy her career.” I signed the papers, my body weak, my spirit numb. I had done this before. In my first life, I refused to step aside. I went live on social media, clutching my infant daughter, and exposed the A-list actress Sophia Marlowe for the homewrecker she was. The public backlash was swift and brutal. She was vilified online, lost every endorsement, and was hounded by lawsuits demanding astronomical sums. The pressure drove her to jump from a skyscraper. When Blake found out, he arranged her funeral with chilling composure. But his grief festered into a quiet, burning hatred for me. He stood by while Sophia’s rabid fans harassed me on the street, and later, when they set our house on fire, he did nothing. I saw him lock the door from the outside, trapping me and our child in the inferno. In that final, terrifying moment, I understood. He wanted me dead. I blinked, and I was back. Back in this sterile hospital room, the ink on the divorce papers still fresh. 1 My daughter, Annie, was born prematurely and whisked away to the NICU. And that’s when Blake Marriott, my husband, chose to serve me. “You know how it is,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Sophia was at the top of her game before… this. Ten months out of the spotlight has already cost her. If news breaks that she’s an unmarried mother, the media will crucify her.” I had just clawed my way back from the edge of death. The slightest movement sent a searing pain through my stitches. But if fate had returned me to this day, it meant I had a choice. “Fine, I’ll sign,” I said, my voice steady. “But you’ll put my name on the birth certificate first. And I want a settlement.” Blake had clearly prepared a speech to counter my expected tears and hysterics. My calm acceptance caught him off guard, and a wave of relief washed over his face. “Of course. A million dollars. Is that enough?” A man worth billions, and he offered me a million. I dug my nails into the thin hospital sheet, knowing it was pointless to ask for more. I just nodded. He handled the paperwork. Once I confirmed everything was in order, I signed my name, severing our lives. Divorce agreement in hand, Blake left without a second glance, not even a flicker of curiosity about the daughter he had just officially acknowledged. The room next door was filled with laughter and celebration. My own room was silent. I had no parents, no family, and now, no husband. Two days later, Annie was released from the NICU. I bundled both of us up against the cold, ready to go home. On the way, a call came from his secretary. “Miss Quinn, please remember to share the company’s official press release.” I wasn’t even legally divorced, yet I was already stripped of the title “Mrs. Marriott.” To protect Sophia’s reputation, Blake had fabricated a story about our marriage ending due to an amicable split. I’d agreed without a fight, but my phone was dying. I’d deal with it at home. The moment I stepped into the villa, I called for the maid to close the windows against the draft. Silence. I carried Annie toward the nursery and heard whispers from the kitchen. “The nerve of her, bringing that little bastard back here.” “Mr. Marriott is too soft. She should be grateful he’s not suing her, and now she’s trying to get his money with someone else’s kid?” A cold sweat prickled my back beneath my thick coat. Amicable split? What had they told everyone? “What are you talking about?” I demanded, pushing the kitchen door open. The maids, who once called me “Ma’am” with feigned respect, now stared at me with open contempt. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, a woman with a perpetually sour face, spat on the floor near my feet. “Who’s gossiping? It’s all over the news. Marriott Enterprises released a statement. Everyone knows you cheated.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I rushed to my room, plugged in my phone, and pulled up Twitter. The top trending topic was #MarriottDivorce. The official statement read: “Due to Ms. Lia Quinn’s infidelity during their marriage, Mr. Blake Marriott has filed for divorce. The dissolution is effective immediately.” A roar filled my head, a pain sharp enough to make me dizzy. To legitimize Sophia’s position, Blake had utterly destroyed my name. I was about to type a frantic rebuttal when my phone buzzed, nearly startling a sleeping Annie. I answered. A police officer’s excited voice came through the line. “Ms. Quinn? We’ve got a confession from the trafficker. He confirmed you were one of the children abducted from Lakeview!” My heart, shattered by Blake, suddenly leaped with a wild, desperate hope. “We’re working with the Lakeview PD to cross-reference families who reported missing children,” he continued. “You’ll need to come here for a DNA test within the next three days!” Tears streamed down my face. I was abducted at five and had never known a single day of true peace. I thought marrying Blake was a new beginning, but it was just a different kind of hell. But now… now I had a chance to find my real parents. My daughter would have a family that loved her. After hanging up, I quickly packed a small bag, then went to the nursery for a few of Annie’s things. My hand was on the doorknob when the front door swung open. “Lia. What do you think you’re doing in there?” 2 Blake stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “I was just getting some clothes for the baby.” “That room is for Sophia’s child now,” he said coldly. “If you need things for… yours, buy them yourself.” Every tiny outfit, every soft blanket in that room, I had chosen with so much love. And he was giving it all to Sophia’s child—a child that wasn’t even his. A wave of despair washed over me, but I was too tired to fight. Just as I turned to leave, Mrs. Gable grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Mr. Marriott wants us at the recovery center to look after Miss Marlowe.” The sudden movement pulled at my C-section scar, and I cried out in pain. “Blake, I just gave birth! I need to recover, too!” He didn’t even turn around. “Which means you have experience.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ve been doing manual labor your whole life. You’re tough. You don’t need a pampered recovery.” With that, he slid into his Maybach. I was shoved into a nondescript van and driven to a luxury postpartum care facility. When we arrived, Sophia was propped up in bed, surrounded by a legion of nurses. She saw me and made a show of trying to sit up. “Lia, you’re here! Oh, you must be exhausted from the delivery…” Blake gently pressed her back against the pillows. He shot me a contemptuous look. “She could run a marathon on a broken leg. This is nothing for her.” He turned his focus back to me. “Lia, if you take good care of Sophia, I’ll add another million to your settlement. That’s a good deal, isn’t it?” Another million. It was tempting. I bit my lip. “I can’t. My baby is at home. There’s no one to watch her.” A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but Sophia immediately clutched his hand. “Blake, darling, if she doesn’t want to, just let her go home. I don’t want to cause any trouble for you.” Her feigned concern worked like a charm. Blake squeezed her hand reassuringly, then glared at me. “It’s an honor for you to serve Sophia. You’re a penniless orphan. You brought nothing to our marriage, couldn’t even manage to play the part of a decent wife. The least you can do now is make yourself useful. Taking care of Sophia is the most value you’ll ever provide.” His words, honed by months of casual cruelty, cut deep. He paid no mind to my ashen face as he ordered Mrs. Gable to return to the villa. But I knew she despised me for “marrying up.” She would never take proper care of Annie. Blake silenced my protests and ordered me to feed Sophia her meal. The door clicked shut behind me. I was trapped. Exhausted and starving, I spooned the soup. As it neared her lips, she jerked back with a theatrical shriek. “Ah! It’s scalding!” In a flash, Blake snatched the bowl and hurled it at me. Hot, greasy chicken broth soaked my clothes. “What is your problem?” he roared. “If you’ve burned her, you’re not eating for the rest of the day!” Sophia collapsed against him, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Blake, don’t be angry. I’m sure she didn’t mean to…” “Don’t call her your sister-in-law,” he snapped. “I’m taking her to finalize the divorce tomorrow.” I stood there, drenched and humiliated, with no one to offer a single word of comfort. The next day, as promised, he took me to the courthouse. We were officially divorced. Outside, he walked straight to his car. “I’m going to buy Sophia the new handbag she wanted. You can find your own way back.” His face darkened. “And Lia? You have thirty minutes to be back at that center. You know what will happen if you’re not.” The Maybach sped away. I immediately hailed a cab, not to the center, but to the villa. As I rushed through the gates, I heard a baby’s faint cry coming from the small security hut by the driveway. That was where the guard lived! I threw the door open. My Annie was lying on a filthy, cluttered cot. Her formula and my carefully packed diaper bag were sitting untouched right next to her. Her face was pale, her cries weak and breathless. She hadn’t been fed or changed since yesterday. Forgetting Mrs. Gable, forgetting everything but my child, I scooped her up, changed her, and mixed a bottle. After she finished and let out a tiny burp, she gave me a sweet, milky smile. My eyes burned, and a tear splashed onto her blanket. Sophia’s child had a dozen nannies. Mine was left to starve. “It’s okay, Annie,” I whispered. “Mommy’s going to get you out of here.” Suddenly, there was a violent banging on the door. I opened it, and Blake’s hand cracked across my face. “Lia! How dare you bring this scum into my house!” 3 I clutched Annie tightly as Blake shoved me back into the villa. Sophia followed, wrapped in cashmere and flanked by her nurses. The house was a disaster. Sprawled across the living room floor were several thuggish-looking men, sleeping off a heavy night of drinking. The air was thick with the stench of stale beer and cigarettes. More men were passed out in the bedrooms and the study. On our master bed, five people were tangled together, some of them completely naked. Panic seized me. “This wasn’t me! I haven’t even been inside the house!” Mrs. Gable emerged from the chaos, her voice choked with fake sorrow. “Mr. Marriott, sir… last night, dozens of them just barged in. They said Miss Lia gave them the key and told them to make themselves at home…” Her voice broke. “They said the baby was being a nuisance and… and they threw her in the security hut.” My whole body trembled. “I don’t know them! I was at the recovery center all day yesterday. How could I have given them a key?” “That’s right, darling,” Sophia chimed in, tugging on Blake’s sleeve. “She was taking such good care of me. Blake, why don’t we just wake one of them up and ask?” The hard lines of Blake’s face softened at her touch. He gestured for a guard to rouse the nearest man. “Who let you in here?” Blake demanded. The man blinked, his eyes bleary. “Some chick… Lia, she called herself. Gave us a key, said the place was empty and to have a party… Hey! Another round!” Dangling from his fingers was my keychain. My keychain, with the little teddy bear charm I’d had for years. I instinctively felt my pocket. It was empty. “No, my keys were stolen! It wasn’t me!” “Still lying?” Blake’s voice was dangerously low. “Sophia was so worried about you, she insisted on coming home. And this is the disgusting scene I find. You planned to have an orgy in my house!” His patience snapped. He ordered Mrs. Gable to lock me in the security hut. As the door closed, I could hear Sophia’s saccharine voice. “Blake, don’t be so hard on her. She was just having a little fun.” “She needs to be taught a lesson,” he replied. “This house is filthy. We’ll go to one of my other properties.” The main gate clicked shut, and through the glass of the hut, I saw their convoy pull away. Sophia, nestled securely in the center of her entourage, shot me a triumphant smirk. Later that night, after I finally soothed a wailing Annie to sleep, the single bulb in the hut flickered and died. Probably a bad fuse. I used my phone’s dim light to book a train ticket. Just then, I heard the lock turning. The door creaked open, and Sophia’s silhouette appeared in the moonlight. Without Blake, her sweet facade melted away, replaced by a look of pure venom. “A million dollars for a divorce? You’ve got more nerve than I thought, Lia.” I instinctively pulled Annie closer, backing away, but the tiny room offered no escape. “Sophia, I’ve done nothing to you. Why are you so determined to destroy me?” “Nothing?” she hissed. “If it weren’t for you, I would be Mrs. Marriott!” I frowned. She was right, in a way. An orphan like me had no business marrying into a family like the Marriotts. A year ago, I’d saved his grandfather from a sudden heart attack. As a reward, the old man, on his deathbed, had forced Blake to marry me. Blake had complied, but it was a marriage in name only. No wedding, just a one-line corporate announcement. He treated me like an object for his frustrations, and within a month, I was pregnant. I thought a child would bring us closer, give me the family I’d always craved. But his grandfather passed away a week before I gave birth, leaving me completely unprotected. So, this was it. She believed I had stolen her place. “But you have what you wanted now,” I pleaded. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?” “No!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “If you hadn’t married him, I never would have gone to that bar! I never would have gotten drunk, and I never would have ended up with this… this bastard child! This is all your fault, Lia! And I’m going to make you pay!” She grabbed the guard’s heavy-duty flashlight from a nearby table and lunged at me. I dodged, but the next second, she let out a piercing scream, slammed herself into the corner of the metal cot, and crumpled to the floor. The door burst open. It was Blake. “Lia! Are you insane?” 4 Blood trickled from a gash on Sophia’s forehead as she collapsed weakly into his arms. “Blake… I was just worried about her, staying in here. I wanted to see if she was okay,” she sobbed. “But she… she called me a whore and said she was going to kill me…” Blake pressed a hand to her wound, his eyes blazing with fury as he looked at me. “Lia! Sophia has been nothing but patient with you. Why do you keep pushing her?” He cradled her face. “She has a career to get back to! Are you trying to ruin her?” His rage terrified Annie, who began to scream. I tried to soothe her, my voice trembling. “Blake, are you really going to believe every word she says?” “Unlike you, she doesn’t have a history of lying and cheating!” he spat. He swept Sophia into his arms and yelled for Mrs. Gable to grab me. “You’re coming to the hospital. If that cut leaves a scar on her face, I swear I’ll break yours.” In the hospital corridor, Mrs. Gable couldn’t be bothered to watch me and wandered off to make a phone call. Annie wouldn’t stop crying; the whole ordeal had terrified her. A kind-faced, elegant woman emerged from a nearby room. Seeing my distress, she offered me a pack of diapers. “She probably needs a change,” she said with a gentle smile. I was flooded with gratitude. A complete stranger showed more concern for my daughter than her own father. After changing Annie, I saw Mrs. Gable was still on the phone. This was my chance. I clutched my baby and made a break for the fire escape. But as I rounded the corner, I ran straight into Blake, who was escorting a bandaged Sophia down the hall. He saw the direction I was heading, and his face contorted with rage. Another slap, hard enough to make my head spin. “You bitch! I should have taken your phone!” Mrs. Gable scurried back. Before I could regain my balance, Sophia, her forehead now dramatically taped, began to wail for all the corridor to hear. “Lia, please! Before you and Blake were divorced, we were just friends! How could you go online and call me a homewrecker? If you’re going to spread such awful lies about me, I might as well just die!” Blake grabbed her arm to steady her. At his subtle nod, Mrs. Gable lunged and snatched Annie from my arms. “Give me back my daughter!” I screamed, clawing at her. Blake’s hand closed around my throat, squeezing until my vision swam with black spots. Just as I was about to pass out, he released me. “Get online. Go live,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “Tell everyone you were the one who cheated. Tell them Sophia and I are innocent.” His voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. “Or you will never see your child again.” I gasped for air, my eyes fixed on my daughter. On Sophia’s signal, Mrs. Gable was pressing a handkerchief over Annie’s tiny face. She was trying to suffocate her. Annie’s cries grew muffled, then faded. Blake didn’t even look. He didn’t care. He truly did not see that baby as his own. Terror, cold and absolute, washed over me. I collapsed to my knees. “Okay! I’ll do it! Just please… don’t hurt her!” Later that day, I sat in front of a camera, holding my baby, and recited the script they’d prepared. “My name is Lia Quinn, Blake Marriott’s ex-wife,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my face. “We divorced because I was unfaithful. Ms. Sophia Marlowe is an innocent party in all of this. I made up the rumors about them. I was shameless, jealous, and cruel…” When the live stream ended, Blake handed me a new phone. “You were smart to cooperate. This has a new number. Sophia will use it to contact you.” He paused, a cruel smirk on his lips. “Sophia has a kind heart. She’s worried you won’t be able to find work, so she’s offered you a position. As a maid in our home.” I took the phone, my expression blank, and got into the staff van. At the first gas station, while the driver was distracted, I tossed the phone, clutched my daughter, and ran straight for the train station.

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The indie actress I’d followed for three years, so obscure she barely had a fandom, finally called it quits. As one of her few die-hard fans, I got a private message from her, Ava Jane. “I found my family. I know things are going to get better now.” I sent her my best wishes, then booked a flight to Europe to nurse my own melancholy. That’s when the call came. I wasn’t who I thought I was. I was the switched-at-birth daughter, the imposter in a life that was never meant for me. My mother’s voice was a soothing balm over the phone. “Darling, you will always be our most precious baby.” My brother called from overseas. “You’re the only sister I’ll ever have. No one is taking anything from you.” My friends kept me updated with a running commentary via a live feed from back home. The real heiress, they said, was being brutally ostracized by our elite circle, a social pariah in her own home. Then, at four in the morning, another private message buzzed on my phone. [Even though we’ve never met, you might be the only friend I have left in this world. I’m so tired. Why does it still hurt so much, even after finding my family? Goodbye. I wish you all the best.] The words jolted me awake. 1 My eyes shot open. I ripped off my sleep mask and sat bolt upright in bed. Something was terribly, terribly wrong with her tone. My hands trembled as I typed, my fingers flying across the keyboard in a panic. [Honey, no, please don’t! What’s wrong? Don’t do anything stupid!!!!] She must have been shocked to get an instant reply at four in the morning. The silence stretched for a full thirty seconds. Finally, a message from Ava appeared. [Why are you still awake?] A wave of relief washed over me—she was still responding. But it was followed by a fresh surge of fear. [I’m overseas, there’s a bit of a time difference.] [Never mind that. What happened? Can you talk to me? You said it yourself, we’re friends.] This time, the silence was longer. So long that I couldn’t sit still. I jumped out of bed, my bare feet cold on the floor, and dialed my brother, not caring that it was the middle of the night back home. Leo’s voice was thick with sleep. “Summer? Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?” My own voice was grim. “Leo, I need you to find someone for me. Drop everything.” Before I could tell him about Ava, my phone buzzed with a new message. [It’s okay now. I was in a dark place for a minute. Don’t worry.] The crushing weight on my chest lifted. I realized I was drenched in a cold sweat. Leo was still on the line, demanding answers. “It’s nothing, Leo. Go back to sleep.” He chuckled softly. “You’re the only one who could get away with waking me up at this hour. I know you’re not feeling great about… all this. That’s why you’ve been away so long. But it’s okay, Summer. You’ll always be my only sister, you know that?” “I know,” I murmured. After more than twenty years together, my family knew me better than anyone. My extended vacation was, in part, a way of avoiding the inevitable. Two months ago, I’d left on a whim to clear my head. The moment I was gone, the bomb dropped: I was the wrong daughter. The real one had been found. My family swore they wouldn’t send me away, that we would always be a family, but our social circle was a viper’s nest of gossip. The rumor was that I’d fled the country to escape the scandal. Annoyed, I decided to stay and personally oversee our company’s European branch for a while. After reassuring Leo I’d be home soon, I hurried back to my chat with Ava. [Don’t be sad, sweetie. I don’t know what happened, but I’m always on your side. Always.] Her reply came quickly this time. [I was just thinking… if I died, it would cause a lot of trouble for other people. This is the first time in my life I’ve had my own room. I cherish it. I don’t want to die here.] Her words painted a vivid, heartbreaking picture. I punched my pillow in frustration. Who the hell were these people she’d found? How could anyone have someone as wonderful as Ava and not treat her like a treasure? Sleep was impossible now. Worried sick, I sat cross-legged on my bed and chatted with her for hours. I knew Ava’s story. An orphan, raised in a group home. She was discovered by a scout because of her stunning looks, but without connections and unwilling to play the industry’s dirty games, she never got past bit parts. I’d stumbled upon her work by chance and fallen for her talent. I was one of her handful of fans, and just when I thought she might finally get her big break, she quit. She told me she’d found her family, but it seemed they didn’t want her. Her simple, typed words on the screen made my heart ache. [I guess if a stranger suddenly showed up and wanted to join my family, I’d have a hard time accepting it too. I get it.] We talked for a long time. I made sure she had calmed down and that the suicidal thoughts had passed before I let myself relax. [Honey, I’m coming home in a few days. Will you wait for me? I’ve never even met you in person. If your family isn’t good to you, it doesn’t matter. When I get back, I’ll be your friend and your family. You just have to wait for me.] She took a long time to reply. [Okay.] A smile touched my lips. I opened the airline app to book a flight, only to stare at the screen in disbelief. A historic blizzard was forecast for the next two weeks. All flights home were grounded. 2 The next day, I checked the flight schedules again, my hope dwindling. It was confirmed: I wasn’t getting home for at least two weeks. Resigned, I called my mother. Her voice was laced with a theatrical pout. “Darling, are you sure you’re not just making excuses?” “Mom, I’m serious,” I said, exasperated. “Have your assistant check the flight statuses if you don’t believe me. I’m literally snowed in.” She sighed, then launched into a flurry of motherly advice about staying warm and safe during the blizzard. Listening to her, a warmth spread through my chest. I had been avoiding their calls, because… well, because of everything. But right now, it felt like nothing had changed. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the phone, making me jump. I heard my mother’s voice, sharp and urgent. “I told you not to touch anything in this house! That was Summer’s!” The reply was faint, a tiny voice apologizing over and over. “Mom? What was that?” I asked. A few seconds passed before she came back on the line, her tone smooth again. “Oh, sorry, sweetheart. Mommy was just careless and knocked over your old model. Don’t you worry, I’ll have Leo buy you the newest edition, okay?” I frowned. I’d heard the other voice. The one who knocked it over was… her. I was silent for a moment, grateful we were on the phone so she couldn’t see the expression on my face. “Oh, that old thing?” I said, forcing a light tone. “I built that ages ago. I don’t even like it anymore. It’s no big deal.” She didn’t reply right away. For some reason, I didn’t hang up. Like a thief, I listened in, trying to piece together the scene at home from the muffled sounds on the other end. I heard my mother’s voice again, no longer the gentle tone she used with me, but cold and severe. Then, I heard quiet, suppressed sobs. I sighed. I wasn’t the only one having a hard time. A moment later, my mother’s voice returned. “Darling, are you still there?” I hesitated. “Mom… she’s your biological daughter. Maybe you should be a little…” It was the first time in two months I had acknowledged her existence directly. I could feel my mother freeze on the other end of the line. Then came a choked sob. “Why did she have to show up now? Why did she have to ruin our family? Couldn’t we have just let the mistake be?” I fell silent, torn between relief at my family’s unwavering love for me and a deep, gnawing shame. None of this was the real heiress’s fault. After we hung up, I wiped a tear from my eye and went back to messaging Ava. [Sweetie TAT the blizzard is insane, all flights are cancelled. I’m stuck here for a while.] [I’m so bored. Everyone here speaks a different language. Can you chat with me more? I need a friend.] I had to give her a reason to feel needed, to anchor her fragile emotional state. A moment later, she replied. [A blizzard? Oh no! You have to be careful and stay safe.] It was followed by a small, worried-face emoji. We chatted for a bit, and then she went quiet. Just as I was starting to worry, a new message came through. [Summer, am I just… redundant?] I jabbed at the keyboard, my fingers hitting the screen harder than necessary. [Of course not!!! You’re the absolute best!!!] [But today, my mother said she wished I had never come back. That I disrupted their happy family.] A surge of anger shot through me. I typed furiously. [Then leave. You don’t need a family like that. I have money. You go back to acting, and I’ll be your investor. I’ll make you a star!] [You know, the first time I saw you on screen, I knew you were a brilliant, gifted actress.] Her reply was quick. [That’s so sweet of you. I’ve thought about leaving, I really have. But I pissed off Mr. Thorne, the head of Celestial Entertainment. He’s a friend of my… family. He hates me. I don’t think I can go back to acting TAT] [Maybe I should just get a normal job…] Celestial Entertainment. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Maybe they had a partnership with our family’s company? I’d look into it when I got home. 3 For the next few days, I threw myself into work at the branch office, messaging Ava in every spare moment. Her mood seemed to be improving, but from the little details she let slip, I knew her situation at home was still terrible. Her family was clearly wealthy and provided for her financially—a step up from her former life of barely scraping by—but emotionally, she was starving. All I could do was pray for the snow to stop. For over twenty years, I, Summer Sterling, had been a force to be reckoned with in our circle—and not just because I was a Sterling. I was a legend in the venture capital world. Protecting one girl should have been easy. I cursed myself for being just a fangirl, for being happy she’d found her family without ever considering what kind of family they might be. I had just wrapped up a meeting when my phone rang. The smug, infuriating voice of Julian Thorne filled my ear. “Summer Sterling. Been gone a long time. Trying to ditch our engagement?” I rolled my eyes. “Julian, have you been living under a rock? Haven’t you heard? I’m the wrong one. Your engagement is with the Sterling heiress. You’ve got the wrong number.” He chuckled. “You told your brother you didn’t care, but I can tell you’re dying inside. Come on, she’s some country bumpkin. She can’t hold a candle to you. Besides, I already took care of her for you. She won’t dare show her face around you now.” I frowned. “Don’t do anything stupid, Julian. She’s still a Sterling, by blood. What did you do to her? She hasn’t done anything wrong.” “Relax,” he said. “The Sterlings are paying to keep her in style. Isn’t that enough? Now stop talking about switching fiancées and get your ass back here.” We chatted for a few more minutes. Right before hanging up, I remembered something. “Hey, didn’t you say you invested in an entertainment company? Let me play with it when I get back.” “Why?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “Thinking of sponsoring some boy toy? Not on my watch.” “Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m going to make a star. Just you wait, my girl is going to take the world by storm.” “What’s your company called again?” I asked. Before Julian could answer, the line went dead. I glanced at my phone. The screen was black. Dead battery. Again. Back at my apartment, a message from Ava was waiting. [Summer, are you busy? I was wondering if I could ask you for some advice. Even though we haven’t met, I just feel like you must be such a graceful and beautiful person. The kind my mother would like.] I replied immediately. It turned out she wanted advice on table manners. [My family’s social circle invited me to a party. Maybe… maybe this means they’re ready to accept me.] Ava sent me pictures of a few dresses. [Which one should I wear?] I looked at the photos and frowned. From her descriptions, her family had money. A party in their circle wouldn’t be a simple dinner. These dresses were all wrong. I typed carefully. [Honey, would you be comfortable giving me an address? Let me order a dress for you.] I already had a chat window open with the regional manager for Chanel, ready to request a piece from their latest couture collection for her. Ava replied quickly. [Oh no, that’s too much trouble! I want to be your friend, not take advantage of you. I know these aren’t right. I’ll just ask my mother if I can borrow one. She’ll probably make fun of me, but I can just pretend I don’t hear her. Cat-making-a-fist.jpg] The emoji made me laugh out loud. She was such a sweetheart. As soon as I got back, I was taking her away from all of this. At the same time, my phone started buzzing incessantly. It was my group chat, “The Heiress Club,” lighting up with messages. Chloe Vance, one of the inner circle, tagged me. [@Summer Sterling, don’t say I never do anything for you. Don’t go to bed too early tonight. We’ve got a surprise for you.] 4 That evening, I was lying in bed with a face mask on, scrolling through videos. Outside, snow fell in thick, silent sheets. I kept refreshing my phone, but there was no new message from Ava. I wondered how her party was going. My right eyelid twitched. Suddenly, my phone pinged. A video from Julian. And a voice message. I played the audio. It was his smug, triumphant voice. “Summer, wake up! You’ve got to see this. This country girl is hilarious. I’m dying over here.” Before I could open the video, a new message from Ava popped up at the top of my screen. [Can I call you?] My heart sank. I ripped off the face mask and dialed her number, completely forgetting about Julian. The call connected. After a moment of silence, I heard Ava’s choked, suppressed sobs. “I should have known,” she whispered. “They just wanted to make a fool of me. But I still went…” Her heartbroken cries tore at me. My phone kept buzzing—the “Heiress Club” group chat was going wild. Annoyed, I silenced the notifications without even looking at them. I listened as Ava poured out her story. The invitation was a setup. The other heiresses pretended to welcome her, but it was a trap. They plied her with alcohol, and she, not wanting to seem difficult, drank until she was dizzy. Then, as planned, they tripped her up, making her stumble and spill her drink, a spectacle of clumsiness. The friendly faces turned cruel. They took pictures, their laughter echoing around her as she begged them to stop. And then came the worst part. “I saw him,” Ava sobbed. “My… my brother. I wanted to ask him to take me home, or just to help me, but… but he just looked at me like I was trash. He said I was embarrassing, that I didn’t belong and should stop trying so hard.” “When I got home, my mother looked at me with the same disgust. She said I reeked of alcohol and was filthy. The dress was torn, and she just told the maid to throw it away.” “Why?” she cried. “What did I do wrong?” My heart shattered for her. I remembered how excited she had been, asking me about etiquette. She had gone to that party full of hope. Why would they do this to her? I soothed her over the phone until, exhausted from crying, she finally drifted off to sleep. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I sent a message to Leo. “Leo, I need a background check on someone.” If they were all going to hurt her, then I would be the one to protect her. Before he could reply, a notification flashed on my screen. [Dear Ms. Sterling, booking is now available for flight CM761…] I shot up in bed. The snow had stopped. I was going home. The plane landed, but my phone had died from low battery. Thankfully, I’d arranged for a driver. As I settled into the back of the extended Maybach, the driver spoke respectfully. “Miss Sterling, the Vance family is hosting a gala this evening. Your mother, Mr. Leo, and Mr. Thorne are all in attendance.” I rubbed my temples. “Take me there.” I arrived at the Vance estate and headed inside. Before I could even find Chloe, I saw a familiar figure across the room. I blinked, rubbing my eyes, but there was no mistake. It was Ava Jane, the girl I’d idolized for three years. The world was so small. The family she was trying to join was right here, in my city. I started towards her, but Chloe’s mocking voice cut through the air. “You’ve got some nerve showing your face here again. Wasn’t last time bad enough for you?” I frowned. So Chloe was the one who had been bullying her? Without a second thought, I walked over and stepped in front of Ava, shielding her. Chloe stared at me. “Summer? What the hell are you doing? Are you protecting her? Have you lost your mind?” Ava looked up, her eyes wide. I squeezed her hand and gave her a small, reassuring smile. Then I looked up and saw my mother, my brother, and Julian all walking towards us. Leo smiled warmly at me. “Summer, you didn’t answer my messages. Why did you suddenly ask me to run a check on that girl?” Before I could answer, Leo’s expression shifted. His gaze moved past me, to the person I was protecting. His face turned to ice. “Why are you with Summer?” he said, his voice cold. “Didn’t I tell you to stop reaching for things that don’t belong to you? Summer is my only sister.” I froze, my mind going blank. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. “What… did you say?” I finally managed to whisper. “Who… is she?”

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Ryan’s mother offered me ten million dollars to leave her son. I thought our love was unshakable, so I planned to tell him about it as a joke. But later that night, after we’d made love, I answered his ringing phone by mistake. A woman’s bright, cheerful voice came through. “Ryan, darling, should the wedding invitations be gold-leaf or classic ivory?” I felt like I’d been plunged into an ice bath. Ryan Wood was getting married. So what did that make me? On his wedding day, I boxed up every memory of our life together and mailed it to him before boarding a flight to another country. Two years later, he used every trick in the book to lure me back, all so I would watch a fireworks display with him. On the old city wall, with cherry blossoms falling like rain around us, he looked at me with bloodshot eyes and asked, “When we were nineteen, you said that people who watch fireworks together are meant to be together forever. Does that still count?” 1. After our lovemaking, Ryan stepped into the shower. I lay in bed, calling to him through the frosted glass door. “Ryan, your mother came to see me today.” His voice was muffled by the sound of the water. “What did you say?” Just then, his phone on the nightstand started buzzing insistently. Wincing from the pleasant ache in my lower back, I rolled over and answered it. A woman’s bright voice chirped on the other end. “Ryan, darling, should the wedding invitations be gold-leaf or classic ivory?” The world froze. So, his mother had been telling the truth. Ryan was getting married. And I was… what? His secret? When Ryan emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips, I was still holding the phone, motionless. He nuzzled my neck, his voice a low murmur. “What’s wrong?” I pushed him away, my own voice unnervingly calm. “Your fiancée wants to know if you prefer gold-leaf or classic ivory for the invitations.” He didn’t hesitate. The towel dropped to the floor as he pulled on a tailored suit, his movements sharp and urgent. He was out the door in less than a minute. That night, I showered until my skin was raw, scrubbing away his touch. I waited until dawn, but he never called. I met Ryan in high school. He was the golden boy, the heir to a corporate empire, worshipped by everyone. The line of girls trying to win his affection could have circled the campus ten times over. His desk overflowed with love letters every single day. I never, in a million years, thought someone like him would notice me. So when he confessed his feelings on graduation day, I couldn’t believe it. To prove his sincerity, he followed me to my small hometown. He ate at greasy spoon diners and sat on dusty park benches with me. For two solid months, he told me he loved me every single day, as if afraid I’d forget. Just before college started, I finally said yes. We were inseparable for four years, a blur of stolen kisses and late-night study sessions. After graduation, he took over his family’s company, and I became an English teacher at the city’s most prestigious private high school. It was only later that I learned the school’s primary investor was one of Ryan’s closest friends. My entire life, I realized, was interwoven with his. And now, one phone call from another woman, and he was gone. He’d left like his hair was on fire, terrified of hurting his precious fiancée’s feelings for even a second. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell me he had one. He had been lying to me, year after year. When I saw him again, he acted as if nothing had happened, waiting for me after work. “Clara, I’m coming over tonight.” Smack. The sharp sound of my hand connecting with his cheek echoed in the quiet parking garage. He lunged forward, pressing me against the cold metal of my car. His beautiful, expressive eyes traced a line from my collarbone downwards. “You’re the one who takes your own clothes off,” he murmured, his meaning clear. I shoved him away. I raised my hand to strike him again, but he caught my wrist mid-air. “Clara, are you done making a scene?” Was I done? This man, who had once treated me like a goddess, was now asking if I was done, all for another woman. Our eight years together—had it all been in my head? In his eyes, was I nothing more than a dirty little secret, a mistress to be kept in the shadows? I bit my lip until I tasted blood, then spat at him. “You’re disgusting, Ryan.” He held onto me, his voice softening. “I don’t want to hurt you. If you’re willing, we can go on just like we were before.” Like before? As his secret lover? He continued, his voice a persuasive caress. “Clara, you have to be realistic. A man of my standing needs to marry someone of equal status. Victoria’s family and mine have been allies for generations. She’s running a subsidiary of her family’s corporation. Marrying her is the most logical arrangement.” “And me?” I asked, my voice breaking. “What about me? What was I?” 2. He let out a soft, condescending laugh. “Clara, I thought I was being perfectly clear. For an English teacher, your reading comprehension is surprisingly poor.” He gestured dismissively. “It’s not just your family background. You’re a schoolteacher. You don’t understand the world I live in. How could you possibly stand beside me?” The absurdity of it all was suffocating. I swung my hand and slapped him again, catching him off guard. He retaliated by shoving me into the car. “Are you insane?” I grabbed his wrist and bit down, hard. He didn’t flinch, letting me bite until the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. Only then did I let go. “You’re a bastard, Ryan,” I panted. “You were the one who said you loved me for being simple and pure. Now you’re saying I’m not sophisticated enough to be by your side. You always have to have it both ways, don’t you?” He said nothing, simply got into the driver’s seat. I was too exhausted to fight anymore. I let him drive me wherever he wanted. Thirty minutes later, we pulled up outside my apartment building. Before I got out, he handed me two invitation samples. “So,” he asked, his voice casual, “do you think the gold-leaf looks better, or the classic ivory?” His words were razors, carving up my heart until I couldn’t breathe. I snatched the invitations from his hand and threw them back in his face. The sharp edge of the cardstock grazed his cheek, leaving a thin red line. A crushing weight settled on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I walked away without looking back. Ryan always knew exactly how to hurt me the most. I never imagined that the person I loved more than anyone in the world would be the one to cause me the most pain. The next day, Victoria found me at school. She was stunning, just as bright and captivating as her voice. “Leave the city. And leave Ryan,” she said, wasting no time. “Do you love him?” I asked. She scoffed. “This is a merger, not a romance. All that matters is maximizing our families’ profits. If his name were David or Michael, it wouldn’t make a difference. I’ve known about you for a while. So what? Ryan is only ever going to marry me. All I want is the title of Mrs. Wood.” She looked me up and down. “But I’ve been the center of attention my whole life. If he wants to marry me, he needs to cut ties with his… indiscretions. So, you have to go.” I started to laugh. Laughing at my own stupidity, and at Ryan’s. “Miss Hayes,” I said, my voice steady, “I’m not going anywhere. And I won’t have anything more to do with Ryan. I know the difference between right and wrong. I’m not the type to knowingly be with a taken man.” “You—” She knew I was calling her out, and she couldn’t deny it. Her hand flew up as if to strike me, but she let it drop. “Damn it, Ryan,” she muttered under her breath. Since she couldn’t intimidate me, Victoria found another way to force me out. If I had known how dirty she was willing to play, I would have left without a second thought. The headline “Local Teacher in Scandal with Business Tycoon” went viral. Photos of Ryan and me, tangled together on my sofa, were all over the internet. His face was artfully blurred, but mine was on full display for the world to see. My principal, Ethan, called me into his office. “I know that man is Ryan,” he said quietly, “but the scandal is too big. The school board has decided to terminate your employment.” And just like that, branded with a crime I didn’t commit, I was despised by my students, condemned by their parents, and jobless. 3. When I got home, I found that someone had thrown a bucket of chicken blood against my front door. I unlocked it to find my mother waiting for me on the sofa. Before I could even turn around, a cup flew through the air and shattered on the floor by my head. It was the one Ryan had bought me last year. “You have the nerve to come back here?” she shrieked. “You should have just died out there! Do you have any idea what your aunts are saying about me? They’re all saying I can’t raise a daughter right! Your father was stolen by a homewrecker. I’ve spent my whole life hating women like that, and now my own daughter has become one!” Her voice dripped with venom. “You’re just as cheap as your father, sneaking around. Does it feel better in secret?” “Mom, no, it’s not like that,” I sobbed. “He framed me—” She slapped me across the face. “He framed you? Look at yourself in the mirror. What do you have that’s worth framing?” She pulled a fruit knife from somewhere and held it to her own throat. “Record a video. Right now. Send it to the family group chat and tell them you’re no longer my daughter. If you don’t, I’ll die right here.” I did as she asked. My mother, satisfied, added her own message to the group chat: “From this day on, Clara is no longer my daughter. Whatever she does has nothing to do with me. If you want to blame someone, blame her deadbeat dad.” She turned to me, her eyes cold. “We may have cut ties, but you still owe me for raising you. For the sake of our twenty-seven years together, you can pay me a lump sum.” I gave her my entire life’s savings. As she was leaving, she saw a childhood photo of us on the table and smashed it to the floor. “The thought of being in the same picture as you makes me sick,” she hissed. “The thought that a slut like you came from my body makes me want to vomit.” Then she was gone, and the nightmare was over. I slid down the wall, my legs numb. I don’t know how long I sat there. The phone rang over and over. I finally answered it, annoyed. It was Ryan. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone casual. “Don’t be so dramatic. In a few days, everyone will forget about it.” His fiancée had maliciously destroyed my life, and he called me dramatic. “Go to hell, you son of a bitch,” I seethed, and hung up. I picked up my phone and started posting. I uploaded our old chat logs, our photos, pictures of every gift he’d ever given me. “I am the woman from the scandal,” I wrote. “But I am not a homewrecker. I think Mr. Ryan Wood and Ms. Victoria Hayes know who is. The moment I learned of their wedding, my world fell apart. I suddenly realized that in Mr. Wood’s eyes, our eight years of love was nothing more than a casual affair. He could have broken up with me when he decided to marry Ms. Hayes, but he didn’t. He wanted both a docile mistress and a powerful wife. He tried to have it all. When I refused to play along, he and Ms. Hayes fabricated lies to force me out, with him willingly playing the part of a wronged man. How generous of him.” The post blew up. Though the Wood and Hayes families tried to suppress it, their business rivals made sure it stayed at the top of every newsfeed. It was too late. 4. The Wood Corporation’s stock plummeted. Ryan and Victoria were too busy with damage control to bother me. For a few days, I had peace. But I knew it wouldn’t last. A message from Ryan appeared on my screen. It was a picture of my mother, using the money I’d given her to play mahjong with a group of women on the street. “Clara, you’re a smart girl,” his message read. “Your little outburst has cost my family a fortune. You know what you have to do.” My mother and I had only ever had each other. She was obsessed with her reputation. After my father left, she would take out her humiliation on me whenever someone gossiped about her. Now, I had become the very thing she hated most. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to distance herself. But I still couldn’t let him hurt her. I had to give in. I started a live stream, and a million people flooded in instantly. A text from Ryan came through: “You know what to say and what not to say.” I typed back one word: “Fuck off.” The comment section was a war zone. Some people defended me, others championed Ryan and Victoria. “What do you expect from these billionaires? It’s not the first time they’ve played with someone’s heart.” “Stay strong, girl! We believe you!” “Her? The Wood family could have anyone. Why would they need to deceive her? She’s probably just a gold digger.” “If I were Ryan, I’d choose Victoria too. He’s rich, not blind.” “Hey honey, forget the rich guys. They’re trouble. Come with me instead.” … With the world watching, I began. “I’m here today to apologize. I lied to all of you.” The comments filled with question marks. “Mr. Wood and I did have a relationship for several years,” I continued, my voice flat. “But that’s in the past. Ms. Hayes and Mr. Wood are a perfect match. I was the one who couldn’t let go, and that’s what caused this whole mess. I am truly sorry to everyone who was hurt by my actions.” The mood in the comments shifted instantly. A tidal wave of insults crashed over me. But I had seen so much ugliness already, I was numb to it. The live stream ended abruptly. There was a knock at the door. I curled up on the sofa, not caring who it was. The distinct click of the electronic lock being opened echoed in the silent apartment. A tall figure approached and sat down across from me. I didn’t need to look. I knew it was Ryan. “You were very sensible,” he said. “The villa on the east side of town—I’ve put it in your name. Consider it compensation. If you’re willing, we can pretend none of this ever happened.” He knew exactly how to twist the knife. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “After all this, who else would want you?” I rose from the sofa and walked over to him. The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the night. He smirked, touching the spot I’d hit, as if pleased. “You’re shameless.” He grabbed my wrist, his smile widening. “You’ve known that from day one.” “Get out,” I screamed, my voice raw. He picked up his suit jacket and placed a credit card on the table. “There’s five million on here. Spend it however you like.” Maybe it was the stress of the past few days, but a sudden, tearing pain shot through my abdomen. A warm gush of liquid flowed down my legs. The last thing I did before I lost consciousness was call for an ambulance. This was for the best. This way, Ryan and I were finally, completely done.

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It was Puppy Adoption Day at the shelter, so I posted on my socials: “Puppy near the university campus needs a home.” A DM came in almost instantly. “Is the puppy obedient?” “Very.” “Does the puppy take discipline?” “It’ll take whatever you give it.” “But you can’t hurt the puppy.” “Then can I be the puppy’s master?” “Wire me a hundred to show you’re serious.” The next second, a wire transfer for $100,000 hit my account. 1. I ran to the shelter manager, bursting with excitement. “Sarah, I found an adopter for Buddy! He’s rich, and he seems so kind.” Buddy was a sweet local mutt we’d rescued from a packed kill shelter truck. He’d thrown himself in front of his siblings to protect them, and the ordeal had left him with serious injuries. His tail was half gone, but worse, he was deeply mistrustful of people. I’d always hoped this brave little guy would find the perfect home. Sarah frowned. “Willow, you need to talk to this person again. Go over all the adoption details and explain Buddy’s situation clearly. The fact that he agreed so quickly… it feels strange.” “Oh.” A prickle of guilt went through me. “I, uh, didn’t tell him the specifics about Buddy. I didn’t even send a photo.” Before Sarah could get angry, I held up my hands in surrender. “I know, I know, my mistake. I’ll fix it right now!” I grabbed my phone. Me: You there? He replied instantly. Him: I’m here. Me: Are you absolutely sure you want to be the puppy’s master? Him: Yes. Him: Is there a problem? Him: Not enough money? The next second, another wire transfer. $10,000. Seeing all that money, I was genuinely embarrassed. I couldn’t lie to an adopter this generous. I declined the transfer. Me: It’s not about the money. Him: Then it’s a problem of not enough money. Another transfer notification popped up. $100,000. I counted the zeros. One, two, three, four, five. A hundred thousand dollars. The sheer amount left me feeling both ashamed and terrified. Me: Actually… there’s something wrong with the puppy. 2. Him: It’s not obedient? Me: No, it’s very obedient! Buddy was always so quiet. He was the most well-behaved dog I’d ever met. Him: Then you’re not ready? I get it. A girl might act on impulse and then have second thoughts. It’s okay to change your mind. Him: But if you ever find yourself looking for a master again, I hope you’ll come to me directly instead of posting publicly. This wasn’t an impulse. Finding a home for Buddy was something I had thought about for a long, long time. I defended myself. Me: No, that’s not it. I’m serious about finding a master. Him: Are you worried I’m a bad person? He sent a few photos of himself along with a link. Him: Here’s some basic info on me. I hope this puts your mind at ease. If anything were to happen, you have everything you need to expose me. I clicked the link. It took me to a Wikipedia page. Adrian Vance, noted entrepreneur and philanthropist in our city, just turned thirty this year… Handsome, rich, and charitable. My guilt deepened. I couldn’t deceive him anymore. Fine. I gritted my teeth and typed it all out. Me: The thing is, the puppy has… issues. I’m worried you won’t be able to handle it. A man like you could have any puppy you want—a prettier one, one with a better temperament… Adrian: It doesn’t matter. I would never be ashamed of my puppy. Adrian: And more importantly, you’re the only puppy I want. My heart skipped a beat. Me: The puppy… has some bad habits. The words were hard to type, so I just let them all spill out at once. Me: The puppy is very sensitive. It can have… accidents and drool when it gets scared. It has severe separation anxiety and is very wary of strangers, so the master would need to be with it every day. Also, the puppy is always hungry. It’s like you can never feed it enough… I was fighting for Buddy now. Me: Basically, there are a lot of problems. But the puppy really, truly needs a home and a master who will take good care of it. Can you accept all of that? A brief silence followed. I prayed he wouldn’t just disappear. Buddy wasn’t pretty or personable, just an ordinary, traumatized mutt. Who would choose to spend so much time and energy healing a broken dog when they could have a perfect one? Just as my mind started to spiral, my phone buzzed. It was an incoming voice call from him. I put in my earbuds and answered. “I will love the puppy with all my heart,” Adrian said, his smooth, rich voice with a cool edge filling my ear. “And I promise, I will always make sure the puppy is well-fed.” His voice was like a feather tickling the inside of my ear, and I felt a blush creep up my neck. “You… you really won’t be ashamed of the puppy?” “Never,” Adrian promised. At the same time, another transfer came through. $100,000. The memo line read: Security Deposit. “Are there any other problems with the puppy?” 3. Hearing Adrian’s voice instead of just reading his texts made me so nervous my fingertips went numb. I stammered, “N-no, no more problems.” I took a deep breath to steady myself, Sarah’s instructions echoing in my head. “Wait, actually, yes, Mr. Vance. I do have a few more questions.” His tone on the other end of the line was still gentle. “Don’t rush. Take your time. I’m listening.” “Mr. Vance, have you ever owned a puppy before?” “To be honest, no,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to learn. Can you teach me? I promise I’ll be a good master.” “Of course, no problem,” I said. “First, you need to have plenty of food and water ready. That’s the most basic thing.” Adrian agreed. “Second, you’ll need to buy a crate, a collar, and a leash.” He sounded surprised. “The puppy has to live in a crate? Isn’t that… cruel? I could prepare a separate house for the puppy if it needs its own space.” Oh, my god. Mr. Vance was so kind and thoughtful, and so ridiculously rich. He was really thinking this much about a dog. But a whole house? That was insane. “That’s really not necessary,” I advised. “A new puppy often feels safer in a crate. It gives them a sense of security.” “Okay, noted. I’ll buy a crate,” he said. “What about the collar and leash? Does the puppy have a preference? Oh, and should I get things like a muzzle, a whip, or a paddle?” I blinked. “The collar and leash can be whatever you like, Mr. Vance. The puppy won’t care about the style. It just wants to be with its master. A muzzle is fine, but I’d advise against using a whip. Puppies are fragile, and you wouldn’t want to hurt it. A paddle… sounds like it wouldn’t be too painful. The puppy could probably handle that.” “Understood,” he said seriously. “I’ll be gentle when I discipline it.” “Mr. Vance, you’re such a good person!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’re willing to take in a puppy that anyone else would see as… broken.” For the first time, Adrian cut me off, his voice firm. “In my eyes, my puppy will always be the best puppy. I hope you can change your perspective and stop saying such things. It lacks confidence.” Huh? That was… bossy. What did my confidence have to do with anything? Was I supposed to lie and pretend Buddy was perfect? By any normal standard, he was a difficult dog. But judging by Adrian’s tone, he truly believed it. Fine. When it came to loving this puppy, I had to admit he had me beat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vance. You’re right,” I said quickly. “Your puppy is the best puppy in the world.” A soft chuckle came through the line. “Not quite.” “What’s not right?” I asked, confused. “My puppy,” he replied, his voice a low, mesmerizing hum, slightly distorted by the connection, “is the best puppy in the entire universe.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right. Your puppy is definitely the best puppy in the entire universe.” Hearing my simple agreement, Adrian laughed, a warm, genuine sound. He spoke to me like I was a child he was coaxing. “So, have I passed your inspection?” 4. My heart hammered against my ribs. I stumbled over my words. “Y-yes, you’ve passed.” “Am I the puppy’s master now?” Adrian asked. “Sort of.” “What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” “It’s not official until after the home visit and you’ve signed the papers.” Adrian was quiet for a moment. “Are you free for a home visit this weekend?” “I am.” “Then, as the puppy’s master-to-be, may I ask you to do one thing for me?” “What is it?” “Could you please delete the post about looking for a master?” “Of course, Master-to-be,” I said without hesitation. After the call ended, I sank into the sofa, replaying the sound of Adrian’s voice in my head. The dark screen of my phone reflected my own smiling face. Several minutes passed before I finally picked up my phone, casually opened my socials, and deleted the post. 5. The weather had been gloomy for days, the sky heavy with the promise of a storm. The weekend arrived, the day Adrian and I had scheduled for me to visit his home. Twenty minutes later, I was in his car. He looked exactly like his photos—handsome, with an air of refined elegance. He wore a black trench coat over a crisp, well-tailored white shirt that highlighted his lean, athletic build. We drove in silence, the city skyline gradually giving way to rolling green hills. Why would a busy tycoon like Adrian choose to live so far out in the mountains? The thought made me a little uneasy. As if sensing my anxiety, Adrian spoke, his hands steady on the steering wheel. “Considering the puppy’s condition, I didn’t think living downtown would be suitable. I happen to own a villa out here, so I decided to move.” So that was why. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Mr. Vance,” I nodded. To break the awkward silence, I started explaining the basics of puppy care. “You have to be careful when giving the puppy shots. It can get scared and might scratch or bite. It’s a good idea to restrain it and use a muzzle beforehand…” “Shots?” Adrian sounded surprised. “Is that really okay? Wouldn’t restraining it be uncomfortable for the puppy?” “Not if you do it right,” I shook my head. “It can actually make the puppy feel more secure.” Thinking about the battles I’d had with Buddy during his vaccinations, I couldn’t help but smile. “Puppies are smart. They can sense what you’re about to do. So it’s best to take it by surprise. That way, it can’t refuse.” Adrian’s expression was serious. “Okay, I understand. A surprise attack, muzzle, restraints, and then the shot. Is that right?” “Exactly,” I nodded. “You’re a quick learner, Mr. Vance.” 6. Adrian wasn’t much of a talker, and halfway through the drive, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, we had already been at our destination for some time. The villa was huge, and a masterclass in privacy. Adrian led me inside. “There are no live-in maids here, so the puppy can play as much as it wants. We won’t have to worry about being disturbed.” He guided me through the house. “I’ve never been involved in this… scene before, so I’m not entirely sure what puppies like. I spent the last week doing research and rushing to set up this house. I hope the puppy likes it.” That explained the faint dark circles under his eyes. “Mr. Vance, you’ve put so much thought into this,” I said. “I think ninety percent of puppies in the world would love this.” He lowered his gaze to meet mine. “I don’t care if other puppies like it. I only care if my puppy likes it.” He was looking for a definitive answer. I tilted my head back and gave him a bright smile. “Of course, the puppy loves it.” Adrian showed me the different rooms he’d designed. Each had a theme: a playground, a clinic, an office… I watched as his calm explanation turned into a strained attempt at composure, and then, as he opened one particular door, his face went completely red. The room wasn’t large, but its contents were eye-popping. The sheer variety of… items made me wonder if he’d bought out an entire store. But something felt off. These things didn’t look like they were for a dog. They looked like they were for a person. “Mr. Vance, what is all this?” I picked up a small leather whip from an interrogation-style table. “It’s just for disciplining a puppy. Does it really need its own personal prison cell?” I slowly walked around the table to a wall hung with various contraptions. “Mr. Vance, how exactly are you supposed to use these on a puppy?” My fingers brushed against a fluffy, pure-white fox tail. Adrian’s eyelid twitched, his gaze quickly shifting away from the tail in my hand. I then picked up a leather paddle shaped like a cat’s paw. “Is this for punishment? I wonder if it hurts.” With that, I tapped the paddle against the inside of my forearm. The skin immediately turned red, and the paddle itself, surprisingly, changed from black to a soft pink. “Wow, it’s heat-sensitive,” I remarked. “The texture is nice, but that stings a little.” I held out my arm for him to see. A faint red paw print was visible on my skin. Adrian’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. I pouted. “Mr. Vance, when you discipline the puppy, can you please not use this one? The puppy is very sensitive to pain.” His breathing grew heavy, and the hand at his side clenched into a fist. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his voice raspy when he finally spoke. “Fine. I won’t use this paddle.” I was confused. He was the one who bought all this stuff. Why was he acting so reserved now? So strange. My eyes landed on a string of beads hanging on the wall. I picked them up. “What’s this, Mr. Vance? Is it a pearl necklace for the puppy?” I gave them a squeeze. “That’s odd. Why are the pearls so soft? It feels like rubber. Mr. Vance, did you buy a fake? How is the puppy supposed to wear this?” “Hey, Mr. Vance, what are you— Mmph!?” Without any warning, a rubber ball was shoved into my mouth. Adrian had finally snapped. His lips were against my ear, his voice a low whisper. “Master will now teach the puppy how to use its necklace.”

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1 The afternoon they told me I was dying, Danny Blackwood popped a bottle of champagne in his lab. His new social media post showed his and Vivian’s silhouettes bathed in the sunset’s glow, their white lab coats stained gold. The caption was a single, triumphant line: “Ten years. A breakthrough at last.” Everyone said it was the height of devotion. Professor Blackwood, working tirelessly for a decade, all to save me. The nurse handed me her phone, her eyes welling with tears, as I stared at the wavering line on my heart monitor. What none of them knew was that the drug had been ready a year ago. And I was the only candidate who wasn’t allowed to use it. … Danny finally showed up at the hospital late that night. He reeked of champagne and a woman’s perfume that clung to his lab coat. “Sasha, how are you feeling?” I looked at him, my voice a dry whisper. “Danny, when can I have the drug?” He frowned. “Vivian says the survival rate for you right now is only thirty percent. It’s too risky.” “What was the survival rate for Mr. Harrison’s daughter last month?” Danny paused. “She was only stage three. You’re terminal. It’s different.” “She also donated three million dollars to your research fund,” I countered, my eyes locked on his. “Is that the difference you’re talking about?” His face darkened. “Sasha, how can you think of me like that?” he said, his voice laced with hurt. “The only reason I developed this drug was for you.” I looked at his self-righteous expression and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Danny, do you remember how I got sick in the first place?” Ten years ago, an explosion rocked his lab. It was me who ran into that fire, who dragged him out through the smoke and chemical fumes. The diagnosis was written in stark, unforgiving letters: Acute chemical lung injury. Irreversible pulmonary fibrosis. He’d knelt by my bed, his voice thick with unshed tears, and swore, “Sasha, I promise you. I will cure you.” He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone buzzed. It was Vivian. “Professor, the lights in the lab went out. I’m a little scared… can you come over?” Her voice was a saccharine whine, laced with a tremor of fake fear. Danny shot to his feet. “Don’t be scared, I’m on my way.” I grabbed the corner of his coat. “Danny, we’re not finished talking…” “We’ll talk later. Vivian’s all alone, I can’t leave her like that.” He pulled his coat from my grasp and walked out without a second glance. After he left, I had my caregiver look into the story of the rich businessman’s daughter. Just as I suspected. She was being treated with Danny’s new drug. Three months in, her condition had stabilized. She was already living a normal life. Meanwhile, I had just received my third terminal diagnosis notice. The next day, I dragged my broken body out of bed and secretly made my way to Danny’s lab. Standing outside the door, I heard Vivian’s voice. “Professor, let’s give the new batch of the drug to Chairman Davies’s daughter. He’s willing to add another five million to our funding.” There was a moment of silence, then Danny’s voice, gentle in a way I hadn’t heard in years. “Vivian, I know you’re just trying to help the lab, but…” “But what?” Vivian cut him off, her tone dripping with feigned concern. “Professor, I know I shouldn’t say this, but… is Sasha’s condition really that serious?” “Every time she has a crisis, it’s right when you’re at your busiest. Last time, you were about to give a presentation at an international conference, and she ended up in the ICU. This time, we’re celebrating our success, and she gets another terminal notice… Doesn’t it seem a little too convenient?” She sighed delicately. “Professor, you’ve already sacrificed so much for her. Chairman Davies’s investment is critical for the future of this whole project. You can’t let her… drag you down forever.” Danny was silent for a long, long time. I held my breath, waiting. “You’re right,” he finally said, his voice turning cold. “Maybe… I’ve been too soft on her. Fine. We’ll do as you say. The new batch goes to Miss Davies.” His voice hardened into something unrecognizable. “Besides, Sasha’s condition is probably not as urgent as she makes it out to be.” So that’s what it was. My countless battles on the edge of death were nothing more than a performance in his eyes. I pushed the door open, shattering the cozy scene inside. Vivian gasped and shrank behind Danny, who instinctively moved to shield her with his body. His expression was a mixture of shock and annoyance. “Sasha? What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be out of bed in your condition!” “If I stayed in bed,” I said, my voice raw as I stared him down, “I’d die without ever knowing why, wouldn’t I?” Vivian peeked out from behind him, her eyes darting nervously, though her voice was full of concern. “Sasha, you shouldn’t be walking around! The doctor said you need complete rest.” “Rest?” I sneered. “So I can wait quietly while you give my life-saving medicine away to someone else?” Danny’s face turned to stone. “Sasha! Watch your tone! Vivian is worried about you!” “Worried about me?” I pointed a trembling finger at Vivian. “Worried enough to convince you to give my medicine away? Worried enough to imply I’m faking my illness?” “I didn’t…” Vivian’s eyes immediately filled with tears. She looked at Danny, her voice breaking. “Professor, I was just worried you were pushing yourself too hard…” Seeing her tears, Danny’s voice became glacial. “Sasha, look at yourself. Paranoid. Hysterical. Vivian has been nothing but considerate, and you repay her with these vicious accusations!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I’m hysterical? Danny, I’m the one lying in a hospital bed waiting to die! I’m the one who can’t get the medicine!” “That’s enough!” he roared, cutting me off. “Do you really think that if you collapse right here, right now, I’ll drop everything to be by your side like I used to?” He took a step closer, glaring down at me. “Sasha, how long are you going to keep up this act?” I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. “You think… you think my terminal diagnosis is an act?” Vivian gently touched his arm, her voice soft. “Professor, don’t be like this. Sasha is probably just scared…” “She’s not scared, she’s selfish!” Danny snapped, as if a dam had finally broken. “If it weren’t for me, you would have died years ago!” “You should be grateful to be alive, not acting like this!” “Now that we’ve finally had a breakthrough, and Vivian has secured us more funding, all you can think about is yourself!” He wrapped an arm around Vivian’s shoulders, a gesture of both protection and possession. “If Vivian hadn’t been by my side, supporting me, I would have given up long ago! And you? What have you ever given me, besides using your illness to hold me hostage?” I stared at them, two strangers standing where the man I loved and his student used to be. Where was the boy who held my hand ten years ago and promised he would save me? How did he become this monster, accusing me of emotional blackmail? Using the last of my strength, I whispered, “Danny… do you just wish I was dead?” His brow furrowed in irritation. “There you go again! Always the same old drama! Go back to the hospital and rest. Don’t stand here interrupting our work.” Without another look at me, he turned his full attention to Vivian, his voice softening. “What happened to your hand? Did you bump it just now? Let me see.” That gentle tone… I hadn’t heard it directed at me in a decade. I turned and walked away, the tears finally falling. The emotional turmoil sent my body into another crisis that night. My breathing grew ragged, my oxygen levels plummeted, and they nearly had to put me on a ventilator. Martha, the head nurse who had looked after me for years, administered the emergency medication, her own eyes red as she patted my back. “Sasha, honey, just hang on a little longer. You have to pull through! Professor Blackwood succeeded, didn’t he? I saw it on the news yesterday, they called his new drug a miracle…” Her voice choked with emotion. “I still remember when you first got sick. The professor doted on you so much, staying by your bedside all night, holding your hand and telling you not to be afraid, that he would save you… He’s finally done it. Your suffering is almost over.” I listened to her words, a bitter smile twisting my lips. Once I was stable, Martha left to get me some water, leaving me alone in the sterile quiet of the room. That’s when Vivian appeared in the doorway. She held a sleek, expensive-looking medicine box, her smile as bright and blinding as a scalpel. “Sasha, look what I brought you! It’s the professor’s new drug!” She dangled the box in front of my face for a moment before snatching it back. “But… this stuff is incredibly expensive. Half a million dollars a dose. And you, Sasha… you’re already behind on your hospital bills. I’m afraid you can’t afford it.” I took a sharp breath. “My parents’ medical trust fund…” “The ten million dollars?” Vivian laughed. “Oh, Sasha. You really don’t know, do you?” She walked to my bedside, looking down at me. “That money? Danny spent it all years ago.” “You’re lying!” I struggled to sit up. “Am I?” Vivian pulled out her phone and tossed a picture onto my blanket. It was a financial statement, detailing every source of income and every expense. “He used your parents’ money to build his lab, to buy a penthouse overlooking the river, to lease a luxury car.” “And…” She smiled, pointing to one column. “The living expenses he transferred to me. It adds up to over a million these past few years.” A chill spread through my body. My fingers trembled as I stared at the report. The section for my own medical expenses was pitifully small. “Do you know why your illness never got better over the past ten years? Why it only got worse?” Vivian leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “Because what the professor was giving you… it wasn’t medicine.” “It was the control group’s placebo.” “Just… ordinary vitamin pills.” My mind went blank. A roaring filled my ears. “Oh, Sasha. You thought you were his fiancée?” Vivian’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. “You were just his experiment. His living, breathing control group.” “To prove his new drug worked, he needed a baseline like you—someone receiving no real treatment, whose illness could progress naturally. Only then could he show how effective his miracle cure truly was.” “These ten years… you thought he was trying to save you?” “He was watching you die, Sasha. Slowly. And taking notes.” “And the money your parents left to save your life? He used it all to build his own glorious career.” My mouth was open, but no sound came out. The numbers on the monitor beside me began to flash erratically.

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I’ve always had a special talent for being despised. So, after my engagement was broken off, my legion of lifelong rivals descended like vultures, eager to gloat. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Vance, finally getting what she deserves.” “How’s bankruptcy feel? Your fiancé won’t lift a finger for you, but if you beg me, I might consider helping you out.” “Good thing he called it off. Marrying you would have been the end of him.” A cold smile spread across my face. I opened my contacts and sent a group text designed to make them all sick: “I guess you haven’t heard your parents approached mine about a proposal. Well, I said yes. The engagement party is after the holidays :)” Thirty seconds later, the replies started flooding in. “Seriously?” “What kind of wedding dress do you like? No reason, just curious.” My face: “?” 1 My engagement was over. Rosen Hugh’s mother came to deliver the news herself. Her smile was painfully pleasant, her manners impeccable. She prattled on about how children should be free to make their own choices, putting on a grand show of civility. I sat sipping a glass of freshly squeezed juice, placing a restraining hand on my father’s arm just as he was about to erupt. “Oh, it’s fine,” I said, my voice bored. “I don’t like Rosen anyway.” It was a childhood betrothal, nothing more. Arranged marriages are a relic of the past. Good riddance. Mrs. Hugh’s smile faltered. “But Rosen cared for you so deeply, and you actually…” She bit back the rest of her accusation, remembering she was the one breaking things off. This was supposed to be a win for her. She forced another smile. “Well then, Helen, I wish you the best of luck in finding someone else.” I took another sip of juice and tilted my head. “And I wish Rosen the best of luck in landing the heiress to Apex Holdings.” Never mind that the Hughs had been kissing up to Apex for ages with nothing to show for it. But who knew? Maybe their pretty-boy strategy would actually work this time. Maybe Rosen’s handsome face would be enough to make the Apex heiress lose her mind and let the insignificant Hughs latch onto her family’s empire. It wasn’t impossible. Mrs. Hugh’s face went stiff. She read the mockery in my expression and shot me a venomous glare. I glared right back. Muttering a string of clichés under her breath—“a fallen queen is no better than a peasant,” “we’ll see how long that pride lasts,” “don’t come crying to us,” “acting high and mighty when you’re about to be bankrupt”—she finally swept out the door. 2 Mrs. Hugh’s tirade of a bitter, wannabe matriarch didn’t affect me in the slightest. I went back to directing the movers. My father, who had been simmering in silence, finally slammed his hand on the table. “She couldn’t wait a single day to call it off! She must have heard those vicious rumors about us going bankrupt!” “They’re not exactly rumors,” I said, rummaging through a drawer for the emergency cash I’d stashed over the years. “We’re broke.” The news of the Vance family’s impending financial collapse had been the talk of the town. The truth was, our company’s capital flow was frozen. I knew the money had been diverted for another purpose and would be back soon, but the details were confidential, so we remained silent. For now, we were genuinely tight on cash—so tight that we had to move out of our mansion in the Compound temporarily. The Hughs must have heard we were moving and taken it as confirmation of our ruin, which sent them scrambling to cut ties. Social climbing is human nature. My father, however, was far less composed than I was. “Helen,” he fretted, “you’ve never been popular, and your people skills are… lacking. Now that we’re out of money, those boys in the Compound are going to make your life a living hell.” His choice of words was, as always, infuriating. I shot him a look, but after confirming he was being his usual clueless self and not actually insulting me, I just rolled my eyes. “Them? If any of them tries to bully me, I’ll take them down with me.” 3 I grew up in the Compound, a gilded cage filled with a pack of boys who were, by societal standards, my childhood friends. We were neighbors, forced to see each other constantly. But the animosity was mutual and intense. We’d been at each other’s throats since we could walk. Because they all looked like Prince Charming and knew how to act the part, our clueless elders were always singing their praises, calling them “fine young gentlemen” and “men of character.” It was enough to make you gag. My father used to tell me I should try to make friends with them. But who in their right mind would want to be friends with those arrogant jerks? I’d scoffed at the very idea. 4 There are no secrets in the Compound. The second Rosen’s mother left, my phone lit up. It was a group chat named “The Compound’s Finest (13).” And it was currently on fire. “@HelenVance, just saw the Hughs leaving your place. What happened, get dumped? Looks like the ice princess is finally melting.” “@HelenVance, how’s bankruptcy feel? If you beg me, maybe I’ll consider helping you out.” Someone had even added Rosen to the chat. The group count ticked up to (14). “@RosenHugh, man, Helen never even liked you. It was an arranged thing. You’re better off.” “@RosenHugh, thank God you dumped her. Marrying her would’ve been the end of you.” … A cold smirk touched my lips as I swiped open a private message. Then, I selected all of them and sent a group text designed to ruin their day. “I guess you haven’t heard your parents approached mine about a proposal. Well, I said yes. The engagement party is after the holidays :)” The chat, which had been scrolling nonstop, froze. Dead silence. All I could see was a string of “…” bubbles as they typed and deleted their replies. Picturing the looks of pure disgust on their faces brought me a profound sense of satisfaction. 5 Rosen didn’t reply. He was at an academic conference overseas. He’d apologized yesterday, telling me he was the keynote speaker and would be offline all day. I didn’t think a day without texting was a big deal, but I sent back an “Okay” to let him know I’d gotten the message. Given the time difference, his last message had been a “good morning,” followed by photos of several designer bags with the question, “Which one do you like?” Before I could reply, his mother had shown up. Honestly, Rosen wasn’t a bad guy. The Hughs were new money, having only moved into the Compound a couple of years ago. It wasn’t until Mrs. Hugh showed up, beaming and holding the family heirlooms that symbolized our betrothal, that my father even remembered my grandfather had drunkenly arranged the whole thing years ago. When the Hughs lived in another state, the engagement was a forgotten joke. Now that they were neighbors, we had to decide if it was still on. My father asked for my opinion. I told him I’d wait and see. The Hughs didn’t push, but Rosen naturally started spending more time with me. He had a gentle demeanor that masked a certain distance from the world, but he was always attentive to me. He remembered all my preferences, brought me gifts from his travels, and planned surprises for every holiday. He was diligently playing the part of a perfect fiancé. So, despite my initial annoyance with the whole arrangement, after spending so much time with him, I had grudgingly come to accept the fact that I would one day marry him. We could always get divorced if it didn’t work out. But now, it was over. I stared at the devastatingly handsome photo on Rosen’s profile for a few seconds, felt a brief pang of regret, and then blocked him. He was nice to look at, but he wasn’t mine anymore. Out of sight, out of mind. 6 The older generation in the Compound had always been kind to me. Even though their offspring were insufferable, I was genuinely fond of the aunts and uncles. Since we were moving out tomorrow, I decided to go say my goodbyes. My phone buzzed as I was heading out the door. My dear rivals had replied. “Seriously?” “What kind of wedding dress do you like? No reason, just curious.” “Tsk, fine. My parents have always liked you. Might as well make them happy.” “After the holidays? That’s too long. Let’s move it up. You’re welcome.” My face: “?” I felt like one of those confused old men staring at their phones on the subway. They were all insane. I had to admit, their counter-attack was brilliant. The boomerang effect of their replies left me thoroughly disgusted. I resisted the urge to block them all, but only because I was about to visit their parents. Instead, I sent a single, unified reply: “Sent to the wrong person :)”. 7 My first stop was the Warrens’ house. Rhys Warren opened the door. He was tall, with dark, intense eyes that made you feel small when he looked down at you. We had nothing to say to each other. Which was a shame, because we’d actually gotten along as kids. Mr. Warren was a fantastic cook, and whenever he made something special, he’d invite me over. Rhys would silently push my favorite dishes closer to me. But we grew to despise each other as teenagers. It happened one day when I was visiting and nearly tripped. He caught me, his arms wrapping around me in an accidental hug. The next second, he recoiled like he’d been burned, shoving me away as if I were radioactive. With a look of pure horror on his face, he stormed into the bathroom and started showering. For a solid hour! When he finally came out, I confronted him, incredulous. “What, do I have some kind of infectious disease?” All Rhys said was, “…Stay away from me from now on.” From that day on, our relationship turned glacial. We barely spoke. So, I moved to walk past him without a word, as usual. But this time, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “‘Wrong person?’” A humorless smirk twisted Rhys’s lips. “Who was it meant for?”

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On my childhood best friend’s birthday, he threw the doll I’d handmade for him into the trash. “It looks like absolute garbage. Who’d want this piece of crap?” I ran away crying as live comments floated past my eyes: 【Go on, be arrogant. You have no idea that doll is a key prop in this steamy webnovel. It has an empathic link to the heroine!】 【Don’t cry, Sophie! He’s just salty you didn’t vote for him for Campus King. Once he cools down, he’ll be digging through the trash to get it back and apologize.】 【Hehe, and once he discovers the doll’s little secret, he’s going to start all sorts of shameless, steamy things to sleep you into submission!】 I froze. Suddenly, I felt a warmth on my cheek, as if someone was gently wiping away my tears. Then, the live comments exploded: 【Holy crap, isn’t that the scholarship kid who has a secret crush on the heroine?】 【How did he get the doll?!】 1 When I gave my childhood friend his birthday gift, his “best girl-friend” Maya was there too. When she saw the doll, she gave Dylan a weird look and teased, “Seriously, dude? You’re into girly stuff like this?” Dylan’s face darkened. He stared at the clumsily stitched doll, his voice dropping. “This is the junk you got me for my birthday?” My eyes welled up with tears. When we were ten, I had asked him, “What do you want for your eighteenth birthday?” He’d blinked. “A doll that you made yourself.” It was because of a fairy tale he’d read. It said that if you received a handmade doll from someone important to you on your coming-of-age birthday, you’d be with them forever. “That’s the only thing I want,” ten-year-old Dylan had said. But now, eighteen-year-old Dylan was calling it junk. “Come on, Dylan, Sophie’s your childhood sweetheart. Can’t you be a little nicer?” Seeing my teary eyes, Maya playfully punched his arm, pretending to stick up for me. “Besides, she was too busy voting for Caleb to have time for you.” That seemed to be his trigger. Dylan let out a cold, bitter laugh and hurled the doll toward the trash can. “If you don’t have time, then don’t bother.” “Who’d want this piece of crap anyway.” The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. I turned and ran, sobbing. “Tsk, girls are so much trouble. Crying over every little thing,” I vaguely heard Maya’s dismissive voice behind me. Then she prodded Dylan with that same fake concern. “What are you waiting for? Go comfort her before she throws a massive fit!” Dylan’s reply was sharp enough to cut glass. “Comfort her for what? She cries a dozen times a day. Let her cry herself to death for all I care.” I ran home in shame and locked myself in my room, crying my heart out. That’s when the comments appeared before my eyes: 【Nooo, don’t cry, Sophie! Don’t blame him! Blame that evil side character for manipulating everything!】 【He doesn’t even know you made the doll! That manipulative tomboy, Maya, lied and told him it was some cheap thing from a street stall. He’s just mad you don’t care about him.】 【And you didn’t vote for him for Campus King! He’s jealous and hurt, that’s why he lost his temper and was mean to you!】 【Don’t worry, the toughest thing about Dylan is his mouth… well, besides that. He actually feels terrible. He’s going to go dig that doll out of the trash and come apologize to you like a puppy with its tail between its legs.】 【Hehe, after all, that doll is a key prop in this steamy webnovel. It shares your senses! Get ready to be pleasured by an insatiable hero until you can’t get out of bed!】 2 Reading the comments, my mind went blank. To be honest, I’d always thought my crush on Dylan was… weird. We were childhood friends, but after puberty hit, our personalities clashed. He was a rebellious thrill-seeker, always skipping class, getting into fights, and street racing. I, on the other hand, was a born crybaby and a total coward. One lap in his speeding car was enough to make me wail for miles. He’d offer a half-hearted apology to my face, then complain to Maya behind my back that I was “a high-maintenance princess, so dramatic and boring.” But it felt like I was under a spell, hopelessly in love with him. Now I understood. No wonder it felt so weird. It was all set up by the author! The comments were still flying: 【Once Dylan discovers the doll’s secret, he’s going to start all sorts of shameless, steamy things to sleep you into submission!】 【Like, during gym class, he’ll play with the doll and get you all hot and bothered, so you have to go ‘rest’ in the equipment room. Then he’ll follow you, lock the door, and pin you against the window for some forced seduction… you know what I mean, hehe.】 【Or when he’s jealous of you talking to another guy, he’ll rough up the doll in public until your legs go weak and your eyes lose focus. Then he’ll sweep you into his arms to claim what’s his.】 【Okay, hold up, that sounds kind of gross. Like some pervert from a creepy manga.】 【+1, that’s so tacky. Is that really a male lead in a female-oriented story?】 【Give me a break, you two moral guardians. If you don’t like it, get lost! It’s a smut fic, it’s supposed to be hot and steamy! Stop nitpicking everything!】 I trembled as I read. You guys get your kicks, but what about my feelings?! I felt sick to my stomach. I was about to rush out and grab the doll before Dylan could. But then… A clean, fresh scent enveloped me. I felt a warmth on my cheek, as if someone was gently wiping my tears away. Then, he carefully brushed the dust from my clothes and whispered, “I’d cherish it.” 3 The comments exploded: 【Holy crap, isn’t that Caleb, the scholarship kid who has a secret crush on the heroine?】 【What’s going on? This isn’t how the story is supposed to go! How did he get the doll before the male lead?】 【Oh no, that doll is the key to their relationship! Without it, the whole plot is ruined!】 Hearing that name, I froze. Caleb was the only scholarship student in our class. His face was extraordinarily handsome. So handsome that even though I was in love with Dylan, I couldn’t bring myself to vote for anyone else for Campus King. As a result, Dylan lost to Caleb by a single vote. But Caleb was the classic ice prince. He had a ‘do not disturb’ aura and kept to himself. In three years as classmates, we had barely exchanged a few words. How could he have a crush on me? The comments debated furiously: 【He might act all cold and aloof, but he’s secretly head over heels for the heroine.】 【How could he not be? When his grandmother collapsed from high blood pressure on the street, the heroine was the one who rushed her to the hospital. If not for her, Caleb would have lost his only family.】 【Ever since then, he’s been paying extra attention to her. The more he watched, the more he was drawn to her. He’s been falling for her on his own for three years. Now he even says her name in his sleep.】 【OMG, that doll shares the heroine’s senses! He’s so repressed, what if he does something… indecent with it?!】 My heart skipped a beat. I curled up in bed, my mind racing with anxiety for what felt like an eternity. But besides the feeling of being held gently, as if I were something precious, nothing happened. The faint, clean scent of soap from Caleb’s clothes lingered around me, like a sun-dried white shirt. It was fresh and comforting. Strangely, I felt a sense of peace. Drowsiness washed over me, and I drifted off to sleep. But I wasn’t asleep for long before I was jolted awake by a sharp pain. 4 I winced, a stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. I was already weak from my period. Crying over Dylan and getting caught in the rain on the way home hadn’t helped. Now, in the middle of the night, the temperature had dropped. The cold made the cramps unbearable. My parents were out of town, and our housekeeper was on leave. There was no ibuprofen in the house, no heating pads. Seeing me writhing on the bed, the comments immediately offered advice: 【Poor baby, just call Dylan already!】 【He’s cooled off now and feels terrible. He can’t sleep, he’s just thinking about how to apologize.】 【Just give him an opening, and he’ll come running to your door, tail wagging!】 I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t going to call him. Dylan always thought I overreacted. Once, I had to cancel a date with him because of cramps, and he’d grumbled, “Maya’s a girl too, and she still goes street racing and bungee jumping on her period. Why are you always acting like you’re dying?” Back then, afraid of upsetting him, I’d wiped my tears and forced myself to go. Not anymore. Ever since I saw the comments, the spell was broken. My head was clear. I didn’t want to bother Dylan. And I’d appreciate it if he didn’t bother me. The rain pattered against the window, a chilling dampness seeping into the room. I curled up, alternating between shivering and waves of pain. The comments didn’t get it: 【The heroine can barely move from the pain, but she’s letting her pride make her suffer.】 【I’m so annoyed. This could all be solved if she just gave in a little, but she’d rather torture herself.】 【My idiot-intolerance is flaring up. Besides Dylan, who else is going to help her right now?】 But I didn’t budge. Even as my lips turned white from the pain, I chose to endure it. Suddenly, it felt as if I had fallen into a soft, warm cloud. A profound warmth enveloped me, chasing away the chill. The pain in my abdomen began to subside, replaced by a gentle, soothing heat. The comments were in shock: 【Is Caleb insane? It’s the middle of the night, and he’s taking the expensive silk quilt he never uses and making a bed for the doll. Now he’s run out to buy a hot water bottle to warm its stomach.】 【OMG, what’s with that pained expression? Don’t tell me he already knows the doll is linked to the heroine!】 【Something’s not right. How does he know she has cramps and needs to be warmed up? You’d think he had an omniscient point of view, just like us!】 A jolt went through me. A wild idea popped into my head: Could it be… that Caleb could see the comments too? 5 The next morning, I was waiting at the school gate early. I wanted to intercept Caleb, get the doll back, and test my theory. But I waited and waited, and he never showed up. The comments were frantic: 【What is the heroine doing just standing there? Dylan and Caleb are already fighting down the street!】 I froze. It turned out Dylan hadn’t slept at all. He’d spent the night digging through the trash for the doll, planning to apologize to me. But he found nothing. So, with dark circles under his eyes, he’d gone to buy my favorite breakfast instead. And, as fate would have it, he ran right into Caleb, who was carefully holding the doll. Dylan exploded on the spot. “That’s my gift from her. You have no right to touch it.” He threw the first punch. By the time I arrived, alerted by the comments, Caleb was already on the ground. He was curled up, his arms wrapped around his chest, desperately protecting something. Dylan, clearly not finished, had a cold look in his eyes as he rained punches down on Caleb’s back. The comments were a flurry of opinions: 【Caleb is that weak? He’s 6’2”, and he’s getting beaten up by Dylan, who’s half a head shorter. No wonder he’s just a nameless side character.】 【Hehe, serves him right. He tried to steal from the male lead and get in the way of my ship. Hope his face gets smashed in!】 【The person above is nuts. Caleb isn’t fighting back because Dylan is trying to rip the doll away from him. If he lets go, the heroine would pass out from the pain.】 【Can I just say, the male lead is really questionable. The description says ‘dominant childhood friend,’ but he’s acting like a possessive creep.】 【Ugh, the side character stans are at it again, slandering the male lead! Dylan doesn’t know about the empathic link yet, what did he do wrong?】 【I agree. No matter how much you slander him, our heroine only has eyes for the male lead. She doesn’t even look at other guys. Eat your hearts out!】 As that last comment appeared, I thought I saw the light in Caleb’s eyes dim. 6 But a moment later, a sharp smack echoed in the air. Caleb’s eyes widened, a flicker of light returning to them. Because I had run in front of him. And, in my haste, I had slapped Dylan across the face. “Have you lost your mind?” I snapped. Dylan froze, his hand covering his cheek. “You… you slapped me? For him?” he stammered in disbelief. He pointed at Caleb, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. “He’s the one who stole the doll you gave me!” I helped Caleb to his feet, gently brushing the dust from his back and shoulders, just as he had done for the doll the night before. I turned to Dylan, my voice cold. “You said you didn’t want it. So what’s the problem if I give it to someone who does?” Dylan’s shoulders tensed. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking, each word a threat. “Sophie, you’ve crossed a line this time. Don’t regret this.” I couldn’t be bothered with him. I turned to Caleb, helping him up. “Come on, let’s go to the nurse’s office.” Caleb’s eyelashes fluttered. He nodded, carefully clutching the doll. Dylan was furious. “Fine. Fine! FINE!” He suddenly grabbed Maya, who had just arrived, and pulled her into a hug. “There’s no such thing as a platonic friendship between a guy and a girl. You’ve been acting like one of the guys, but you’ve always had a crush on me, haven’t you?” “So, how about we give it a shot?” Maya froze for a second, then, dropping her usual tomboy act, she blushed and nodded. I had to laugh. They were always slinging their arms around each other, hiding behind the “just friends” excuse. I had told Dylan it made me uncomfortable, but he’d just shrugged and called me petty. “We’re just bros. Are you really getting jealous over nothing?” Turns out, he knew everything all along. 7 In the nurse’s office, I dabbed at Caleb’s scrapes. Honestly, I hadn’t really believed he had a crush on me. For three years, he’d been cold to everyone, like a beautiful, emotionless statue. But as I leaned in with the cotton swab, the ice sculpture in front of me instantly turned into a volcano. His gaze darted away, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he tried to control his racing heart. Seeing him so flustered and innocent, I felt an unexpected thrill. It was like having a gorgeous, aloof cat that ignored everyone else, but would roll over and show you its fluffy belly, purring just for you. It was a little power trip, and I was enjoying it. “Sophie.” Caleb gently pulled my hand away, trying to look composed. But his ears, red as cherries, gave him away. I studied his expression, feeling even more delighted. What a cute, flustered boy. I wanted to pinch his cheeks. “Thank you for helping me,” he said, his eyes still avoiding mine. He held out his hands. “But I have to give you the doll back.” Thanks to Dylan, Caleb’s uniform was torn and dusty. But the doll, which he had cradled in his arms, was spotless. “It… it has an empathic link with you,” he explained earnestly, afraid I wouldn’t believe him. Maybe it was the “smut fic heroine” in me, but staring at his moving lips, I had the sudden urge to tease him. “Really?” I feigned disbelief and poked the doll’s cheek. My hair, as if on cue, brushed against the back of his hand. Caleb froze, his breath catching in his throat. “I don’t feel anything,” I said, blinking innocently. I deliberately took his finger and used it to poke the doll. “Or does it only work if you do it?” They say the fingers are connected to the heart. It must be true. The moment our fingers touched, I could feel his heart about to beat out of his chest. The comments went wild: 【Is he really that innocent? Just holding hands and he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack.】 【Sophie, stop teasing him! I’m seriously worried he’s going to pass out.】 【Ahhh, why is this so cute? I officially support the heroine dumping the toxic childhood friend for the innocent puppy!】 As soon as that comment appeared, Caleb’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. I had my fun. I smiled and took the doll from his hands. But in an instant, it vanished from my grasp and reappeared in his arms. The comments explained: 【OMG, I almost forgot, the doll is owner-bound. If anyone else touches it, it teleports back to its owner.】 【In the original story, the heroine couldn’t stand the male lead’s insatiable appetite and tried to steal the doll back, but she couldn’t. He caught her in the act and used it as an excuse to ‘punish’ her.】 【LMAO, you smut fic writers will come up with any crazy rule to create a steamy scene!】 Someone noticed the implication: 【Wait, does that mean these two are tied together for life because of the doll?】 【Nooo, what about Dylan? I only ship the main couple!】 【Don’t worry, the link only lasts for six months. It deactivates after the heroine graduates and goes abroad with Dylan, since it’s no longer needed for the plot.】 Caleb, unaware that I could see the comments, explained with fluttering eyelashes that the doll’s link was only temporary. His ears were still red, but his eyes were sincere as he made me a promise. “During this time, I won’t do anything to disrespect you.” I smiled. “I know. I trust you.”

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1 On maternity leave at home, I was suddenly tagged by a rival starlet on social media:“Clara, I’ve forgiven you for the past! I’m getting married today—honored if you’d witness my happiness!~” While fans praised her kindness, I replied politely: “Sorry, I have a prior commitment, but wish you all the best.” Her fans flooded me with hate: “What commitment? You’ve been jobless for half a year!” “You pushed Amber into the water to steal her role! She’s kind to invite you, yet you act arrogant!” Amber joined the comments: “Let’s drop the past—my husband will protect me now. Clara’d be jealous if she knew who he is!” I snapped back: “Sorry, I don’t care about your husband.” Her fans mocked: “He’s a film industry tycoon! Her career will surpass yours!” “You’re secretly dying of jealousy—ten years in the business and still a nobody!” As abuse worsened, Amber tagged me again, feigning generosity: “Really hope you come—we’re from the same agency. My husband’ll give you supporting roles.” She then DM’d a wedding photo of her and her husband. I froze. It was my stay-at-home husband, Owen. I typed back: “Alright, count on me—I’ll be there with sincere congratulations!” … The second I closed the chat, a message from my husband popped up. “Honey, my new film is about to start shooting, so I have to go abroad for a bit. I made a batch of your favorite dumplings and put them in the freezer. Just boil them when you’re hungry.” “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon!” Reading Owen’s usual thoughtful message, a sharp pain lanced through my heart. Owen and I had been married for five years. He wasn’t particularly successful—every film he directed was a box office bomb—but he was gentle, kind, and incredibly attentive. Even when we were apart, he always kept me updated and made sure I had everything I needed. I used to think this was true love, a quiet, steady stream. But reality had just slapped me across the face. I packed a bag, and following the wedding location Amber had sent me, I boarded a flight. When I arrived at the hotel, the entrance to the venue was overflowing with congratulatory flower baskets from luxury brands and fans. The banners read, “Congratulations to Mr. Owen, CEO of Crestwood Pictures, on his marriage!” Beside the flowers, Amber, in a custom-made wedding gown, was demurely giving interviews to the media, surrounded by a throng of reporters. “Miss Amber, after marrying Mr. Owen, will you be retiring to focus on your family, or will you continue your acting career?” Before Amber could answer, one of her bridesmaids, also an actress, chimed in. “Mr. Owen is a billionaire CEO! Of course Amber is going to be a lady of leisure! With a husband like that, who would want to work?” “Seriously, Amber, you’re so lucky! Marrying a man who’s rich, handsome, and powerful!” “Once you’re a billionaire’s wife, don’t forget to throw some resources our way! We’ll be counting on you!” The crowd laughed and joked, and even the head of our agency was fawning over her. “Amber, my dear, the first time I saw you, I knew you were destined for greatness! That’s why I gave you all the best resources from the start and invested so much in your marketing. You have a star quality that doesn’t even need acting talent!” Amber basked in the adoration, her nose in the air. When I first met Owen, he was a nobody, a small-time director with big dreams. I was drawn to his drive, and after we got married, I used my family’s influence to secure funding for his films. Unfortunately, every single one of them failed. But he remained optimistic. He said if directing didn’t work out, he would study arts management to better understand the market. So, I gave him control of Crestwood Pictures, the smallest of my family’s media companies, to practice with. I never imagined it would become the source of Amber’s bragging rights. When they spotted me, the fawning bridesmaids went silent, their faces twisting into expressions of disgust. Chloe, an actress known as Amber’s best friend, was the first to speak, her eyes fixed on my necklace. “Clara, you actually dared to show up? And you rented a Heart of the Ocean necklace to make a statement? How pathetic.” Her words ignited the crowd. “So that’s why she came! To show off! That necklace is a one-of-a-kind piece, the brand never loans it out. She probably had to beg some sugar daddy for it.” “Some people are so calculating. If she hadn’t pushed Amber in the water and stolen her role, that hit drama would have made Amber a star!” “Exactly! She was always jealous of Amber, and now she’s green with envy that she landed a rich husband. She’s just here to compete!” I remained calm amidst the accusations. “For your information, I bought this necklace myself.” The words were barely out of my mouth when a sharp slap cracked across my face. Amber, in her high heels, was standing in front of me. “You bought it? This was a gift from my husband!” “I always suspected he was keeping a mistress on the side. I just never thought it would be you, you bitch!” “You home-wrecking slut! How dare you wear the anniversary gift my husband gave me to taunt his actual wife!” The slap was so unexpected I could only cup my stinging cheek. The onlookers gasped. “Amber, your husband bought you that necklace? Really?” Amber scoffed. “Why would I lie?” She pulled out her phone and showed them several photos of her wearing the necklace while on vacation with Owen. The Heart of the Ocean was unique; its cut was so complex that fakes were easily spotted. More importantly, this one had a custom engraving, clearly visible in the photos. The one around my neck was identical. A wave of whispers and jeers went through the crowd. “It really is the one Amber’s husband bought! So Clara must be the mistress!” Amber shot me a venomous look. “No wonder you haven’t had any work. You’ve been hiding away as some rich man’s mistress!” The other actors from our agency joined in. “And she always used to act so high and mighty, telling us to have self-respect. Turns out she was a mistress the whole time!” “Hah, some ‘ice queen.’ It was all an act. I bet she’s been licking sponsors’ boots behind the scenes.” “Shameless homewrecker! Amber was kind enough to invite her, and she shows up wearing that necklace to deliberately provoke the wife!” “Disgusting! Sluts like her who break up families should be drowned!” Even the head of our agency scowled at me. “Clara, don’t bother coming back to the agency. You’re done!” “We don’t have room for morally corrupt artists like you!” The barrage of accusations drew in more reporters, who started live-streaming the drama. One of them even threw a glass of red wine at me. As the wine stained my designer gown, I fought back my anger. “You can slander me, you can assault me in public, but is there no law in this country?!” Amber sneered. “The law? I’m slapping a shameless homewrecker! My husband is a billionaire CEO. There’s nothing in this world he can’t solve with money!” Her eyes fell to the necklace around my neck, and she snarled, “I hate sluts like you! It’s bad enough you seduce men, but you scam them out of their money too! You deserve to be beaten to death!” She lunged at me, grabbing my hair and ripping the necklace from my neck. “This is my husband’s and my property! What right do you, a mistress, have to wear it?!” I looked at the furious Amber and said calmly, “You’ll find out soon enough who really has no right.” My words sent her into a rage. “What did you say, you bitch? You’re trying to shame me, the real wife?” “Let me tell you something, Amber doesn’t do sloppy seconds. Especially not after they’ve been worn by a shameless slut like you. The sight of it makes me sick!” She ordered someone to bring her a hammer and began smashing the necklace. Diamonds, though hard, are brittle. Cracks soon appeared. “Amber is going to be the lady of Crestwood Pictures. We can’t let her be bullied by some low-life like Clara,” her friend Chloe yelled. The other onlookers, caught up in the frenzy, grabbed whatever they could find and joined in, smashing the priceless gems into dust. The once-dazzling Heart of the Ocean was reduced to a pile of glittering debris. I watched the mob with cold eyes and pointed to a live-streaming camera. “That necklace is worth two billion. When it’s time to pay up, not a single one of you will get away.” My words earned me another hard slap. “Who do you think you are, threatening me? You’re just a mistress who can’t be seen in public. Do you really think you’re some kind of tycoon’s wife?” “So what if it’s two billion? It’s all my husband’s money, and his money is my money! I can smash my own things if I want to!” I stared at the arrogant Amber and laughed. Owen was a useless freeloader who relied on my family for everything. Even with Crestwood Pictures under his management, his incompetence had turned it from profitable to loss-making in just a year. If he weren’t my husband, my family would have kicked him out long ago. But to Amber and her sycophants, he was a brilliant billionaire CEO they were all desperate to please. Encouraged by Amber’s attitude, the others chimed in. Chloe pointed at me and screamed, “This slut dared to show up in a designer dress! Let’s strip her naked and throw her in the street, see if she dares to seduce men after that!” As the mob advanced on me, I quickly pulled out my phone. “Get people to the Grand Hotel, now!” Before the person on the other end could reply, Chloe snatched my phone and smashed it on the ground. “Calling for backup? You’re a homewrecker! Even if we beat you to death today, you’d deserve it!” “Who do you think you are? We’re all in the same industry. Everyone knows you sleep with sponsors for roles.” “What, you’re going to call your sugar daddies to come save you? Take a look around. None of those old men can compare to Mr. Owen!” “Exactly! If you’re going to act tough, pick the right audience. You messed with the wrong people this time, hahaha!” With that, the bridesmaids swarmed me, tearing at my clothes. I struggled, screaming for them to stop, but I was helpless. The onlookers did nothing, just pointed their cameras at me, recording my humiliation. The live-stream comments were a blur of vicious curses. “Let go! Let me go!” I screamed, forced to my knees. My clothes were ripped to shreds, and I could only use my hands to cover myself. As the gown was torn away, my pregnant belly was exposed. Someone shouted, “Look at her stomach! She’s pregnant!” Amber looked down, and her face changed. Owen was thirty-five and childless, which meant Crestwood Pictures had no heir. If I gave birth to his child, the position of CEO’s wife and all future wealth would be mine. Chloe said nervously, “Even if Mr. Owen likes Amber, he wouldn’t ignore the child, would he? Did we go too far?” But Amber just smirked. “It’s just a bastard child. I’m the real wife. Owen and I can have as many children as we want. Why would he care about this one?” I instinctively covered my stomach and shoved Amber away. “You evil woman, don’t you dare touch my child!” But in my pregnant state, I was clumsy. Amber easily dodged me. As I tried to escape, Chloe ran forward and kicked me in the stomach. The other actresses grabbed me, punching and kicking. “How dare you touch Amber? You must have a death wish! She’s a billionaire’s wife now, who do you think you are?” “Don’t think we won’t hit you just because you’re pregnant! That thing in your belly is just a bastard anyway. Amber could have you both killed with a single word!” “Shameless slut! Seducing another woman’s husband and getting pregnant with a bastard! We’ll beat you to death today!” Even the agency head snuck in a few kicks. I was beaten until I was bleeding, curled up on the floor, trying to protect my child. I couldn’t take it anymore. I spit at Amber and snarled, “You’ll all pay for this!” But the crowd just laughed. “Still acting tough when you’re about to die? You’ll make us pay? That’s hilarious.” “A scheming mistress trying to get one over on Amber? Look at you, you’re not even worthy of polishing her shoes!” “‘Make us pay’? Hahaha, I’m so scared! A mistress who licks sponsors’ boots really thinks she has money and power.” The reporters and live-stream audience joined in the mockery. Amber, seeing that everyone was on her side, stepped on my face. “Since we’ve come this far, let’s take it a step further. I’d like to see how this bitch is going to make me pay.” The crowd looked at each other. “Amber, what do you mean?” Amber picked up the cake knife and smiled a crazed smile. “I mean, let’s cut the baby out of her.” As the knife came closer, I scrambled backward, screaming for help. The next second, hundreds of luxury cars screeched to a halt in front of the hotel. A man in an expensive suit, surrounded by an entourage, stepped out. The noisy venue fell silent. The people who had been about to attack me froze, staring at the entrance. Even Amber retracted the knife and smoothed down her dress. The hotel manager, seeing the commotion, rushed to the entrance with his staff and rolled out the finest red carpet.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385848”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel