My family is perfect. My dad is a computer science Ph.D. from Harvard. My mom is a professor of medicine at Stanford. My older brother is an International Math Olympiad champion. And then there’s me. I scored a 60 on my math final. My brother was so furious he stayed up all night writing three mock math exams just for me. “You are such an idiot,” he spat. “You’re a disgrace to me and Mom and Dad!” “Until you finish these tests, don’t even think about leaving this house. You’re not going out there to embarrass us again!” Mom shoved a “Smart Pill” she’d developed down my throat, ignoring how I gagged and my eyes rolled back. “Don’t give me any excuses about being tired or sleepy,” she snapped. “This pill will keep you awake for twenty-four hours. That’s plenty of time to finish the tests!” Then Dad activated “Strict Mode” on the smart home system he built. “Don’t even think about sneaking out or calling for help,” he said coldly. “I’m locking the house down and jamming the signal. If you don’t finish those tests, no one will come for you, even if you die in here!” With that, the three of them left for their vacation in Hawaii. As the front door slammed shut, a vase full of water on the shelf rattled and crashed onto the smart home control panel. I was choking on the pill, gasping for air, pounding on the door for help. The malfunctioning panel just repeated, over and over: “Student, please complete your exam on time. Study hard. Be a good child.” “Study hard. Be a good child…” “Study hard. Be a good child…” I clutched the exam paper in my hand, pain searing through my chest. My last thought was: Is this answer good enough for you? Is my life enough? 1 The pill Mom fed me was lodged in my windpipe. I couldn’t cough. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe! The smart home Dad built had sealed every exit. I pounded on the door until I felt the bones in my hand crack, but it didn’t budge. It felt like a boulder was crushing my chest. Soon, my strength gave out, and I slid to the floor by the door. As my consciousness faded, I prayed silently. Mom, Dad, please come back and save me! I’m scared. Nina is dying. Nina doesn’t want to die all alone. Please don’t leave me! Hot tears rolled down my cheeks, answered only by the cold, mechanical voice. “Student, please study hard. Be a good child.” “Be a good child…” But Nina is about to be a dead child. I’ll never be good again. I closed my eyes in despair. Just then, the smart speaker crackled to life, broadcasting a voice call from Mom. “Nina, have you started the test?” “Hmm? Why aren’t you answering? Oh, so you’re giving us the silent treatment now?” I shook my head weakly. No, Mom! Think! If Nina isn’t talking, something is wrong! Your Nina is dying! But Dad’s cold voice cut in. “Whatever. I set the Smart Butler. If she doesn’t finish the test, the kitchen and fridge stay locked. No food for her!” “She wants to be stubborn? Let’s see how long she lasts!” Tears streamed down my face. The mirror reflected my turning blue, the life draining from my eyes. No, I’m not being stubborn! Nina is a good girl. You told me to take the test, and I was going to take the test. My brother’s impatient voice chimed in. “Come on, get in the car. Let’s go have fun in Hawaii. Stupid Nina can just stay home and be jealous!” The car door slammed shut. Silence. I listened to my own heartbeat slowing down. Thump… thump… Until finally… Thump! My heart sank like a stone into a frozen lake. No more echoes. … When I opened my eyes again, I was in a bustling airport terminal. Mom and Dad were chatting and laughing. My brother was playing a game on his phone. I used to want to play with him, but he’d always tell me to get lost and go do my homework. He said playing was a privilege for honor students. But now, I floated over to watch him play, and he didn’t chase me away. It was nice. As if sensing something, my brother suddenly put down his phone. “Nina is so dumb. She got a 60 in math. She won’t cause trouble at home, will she?” Mom’s smile instantly vanished. “What trouble can she cause? Just throwing a tantrum! That dead child, never studies properly, always up to no good!” She bit her lip. “Fine, I’ll bring her back some cookies from Hawaii. She loves junk food anyway.” “Honey, you tell her. Only good children get rewards!” Dad pulled up the home surveillance feed on his phone. But the camera showed the last frame before the smart panel malfunctioned—me, choking, clutching the exam paper in agony. Dad flew into a rage. “She tore the test! That little brat, does she think she can fight us?” He immediately called the Smart Butler. “Smarty, change of plans. No food for Nina Bell for three days. If she’s thirsty, she can drink from the toilet!” Mom was furious too. “We’re an Ivy League Ph.D. and a Professor! Do you know how much effort we put into raising that little piece of trash? And she doesn’t even try! She makes me a laughingstock among my colleagues!” I tried to grab them, to explain, but my brother told them to stop. “Quit yelling, people are staring. Honestly, you guys shouldn’t have had a second kid. She’s the shame of this family. She should have just died at birth!” My fingers passed right through their arms. I watched them nod in agreement. They regretted having me. I smiled bitterly. Okay then. Now that I’m really dead and can’t embarrass you anymore, will you and Alex be happier? 2 I watched them fly to Hawaii. I watched Mom and Dad put on wetsuits, and Alex wax his surfboard. The sun warmed the sandy beach. My body was still lying on the cold floor back home. Dad looked in the direction of home and gripped his phone. “That little waste of space is probably crying from hunger by now.” Mom smirked. “Good! Unless she copies that torn test a hundred times, I’m not letting her off the hook!” But Mom, dead kids can’t write tests. I’m sorry… Alex clicked his tongue in annoyance, just like always. “Guys, you forget she’s an idiot! If she gets too hungry and dizzy, I’m worried she might accidentally burn the house down. Ugh, so annoying! Better check on her.” Dad must have thought I was an idiot too, because he quickly opened the app. Mom frowned at the screen. She looked ready to scream. I panicked and tried to block the screen. If they saw the glitch, they’d know Nina was dead! If I died and made a mess of the house, Mom and Dad would hate me even more! I was sobbing, trembling all over. Dad gasped at the screen. “What?!” The feed glitched and switched to the living room. It was a disaster zone! Trash everywhere! It’s all because Nina didn’t study properly. And she fell on the floor and got in the way. The Smart Butler had decided Nina was “trash” that needed to be removed. It was controlling the Roomba, which was ramming into everything. Vases shattered. Chairs were overturned. Dad was livid. “Nina Bell! You dare trash the house?! You stupid, evil thing, why don’t you just go die!” Mom screamed, “You think throwing a fit will get you out of this? Three days isn’t enough? Fine, ten days! I’ll lock you in there until you learn!” “Buzzkill… Smarty! Clean up the living room!” Dad threw his phone aside in disgust. He didn’t see the Roomba crashing into the walls. Its casing shattered, becoming sharp and jagged. It picked up porcelain shards from the floor and charged at my body. Like a knife, cutting into flesh. My body became a bloody mess. I cried and threw myself at their feet, begging them to stop it. I’m already dead. Why do you have to destroy the last chance for us to see each other? I looked pleadingly at Alex. He sneered. “That damn idiot touched my stuff?” I realized with horror that there were pieces of a model on the floor. Alex’s battleship model that took him a month to build! I shook my head frantically. [Alex, believe me!] Nina is dumb, but she knows to protect Alex’s things. Nina held onto the test Alex wrote until she died. I’m waiting for you to come back. When you see it… You’ll forgive me, right? Suddenly, a cheerful voice piped up. “Alex! You guys are vacationing here too?” It was Chloe, my desk mate and neighbor. The “good kid” Mom and Dad always compared me to. The one who put gum in my hair. The one who told boys to put a dead rat in my backpack. Because I had bad grades, because I was a “bad student,” she said the teachers wouldn’t listen even if I told on her. She feigned surprise. “Where’s Nina?” Alex, blinded by anger, snapped, “Why would we bring a retard? Chloe, I really wish you were my sister!” My heart seized. A heart that should have been dead hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. They can hit me, scold me, but please, don’t throw me away! But Mom and Dad laughed. “Chloe, your grades are so good. We wish we could trade our trash for you.” “Exactly. You’re much easier on the eyes than that idiot!” I watched helplessly. My parents praised the bully who tormented me. My brother told me to learn from her. 3 Chloe looked at them like they were idiots. But why? My parents and brother are geniuses. Nina was so proud of them. That’s why I never let anyone bully them! I tried to push her away, but Mom spoke up, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Chloe, are you hungry? Have some cookies…” But Mom, those were the cookies you promised me! Even though I can’t eat them anymore. How could you reward the bad person who hurt your daughter? Tears fell from my eyes. It felt like a hole had been punched in my chest, bleeding endlessly. Someone spoke up. “Who wants your cookies? Your crazy daughter will just get mad and say Chloe bullied her again!” It was Principal Tao, Chloe’s dad. He stood protectively in front of her, looking smug. When I tried to report the bullying, he was the one who threatened to expel me! But Mom bowed her head and apologized! “I’m sorry. It’s all because that little liar makes things up!” She took off her jade Guan Yin necklace and shoved it into Chloe’s hands. “Take this as an apology. My idiot daughter has been eyeing this for ages. Chloe, you wear it. Let her be jealous!” I stared at the pendant Mom put on Chloe. Grandma gave that to Mom. Mom said she would give it to me one day. She said the Goddess of Mercy would protect Nina and keep her healthy and happy forever! But Nina is dead. The necklace is gone. Mom’s love is gone too. Principal Tao huffed, satisfied. “Your daughter is rotten! Slandering me, saying I’m biased? You better put out a statement clearing this up!” My furious parents didn’t hesitate. They posted on Facebook and Twitter, saying I was jealous of my classmate and made up lies! They were fair and just parents. Only Nina was the bad child! Relatives commented, criticizing me. [I always wondered why her parents are so smart but she’s so dumb. Turns out she spends all her energy being devious!] [A leopard can’t change its spots. This kid has no future!] Suffocation washed over me again. But Mom and Dad played happily with Chloe’s family. My parents, who were always “too busy with work,” went snorkeling with Chloe to see the coral reefs. My brother, who “hated idiots,” patiently taught her how to surf. Tired from playing, Chloe snuggled into my mother’s arms. She faked sweetness. “Auntie, you guys are so nice to me! If my mom was still alive, I bet she’d be just like you…” Mom hugged her tight, heartbroken. “From now on, you can be my daughter!” Then what am I? Dad laughed. “Why don’t you come stay with us for a while, Chloe? Let me think which room…” Alex suggested, “Kick the idiot out of her room. Send her to a boarding cram school. Don’t want her upsetting Chloe!” I listened as my family planned how to abandon me. To make room for my bully. For the next five days, they didn’t think of me once. Until a neighbor called. “Mr. Bell? I called the police.” “I noticed the three of you left for vacation, but I haven’t seen your youngest daughter. And now… there’s a terrible smell coming from your house. Like… something dead.”

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My boss’s girlfriend treats me like her personal nemesis. At the company dinner, she marched right up to me in front of everyone. “I heard you’re really good at pleasing the boss,” she sneered. “Tell you what, bark like a dog for me, and I’ll give you a thousand dollars.” Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket. I smiled, raised my wine glass, and said, “Here’s to the boss! Wishing you luck, prosperity, health, wealth, joy, and fortune!” “That’s six wishes. Six ‘woofs’ worth of luck. Do you want to Venmo me or pay cash?” The room erupted in laughter. Even the boss cracked a smile. Only his girlfriend stood there, her face sinking faster than the Titanic. 1 “Wow, you really live up to your reputation as the top salesperson. Such a smooth talker,” Chloe drawled, her smile not reaching her eyes. She stared at me, dragging out every syllable. “No wonder Damian always praises your ability to close deals. You really know how to charm men.” “Unlike me. I’m so clumsy with words. I could never come up with such a… unique toast.” The atmosphere in the room froze again. Anyone with ears could hear the venom dripping from her words. But my boss, Damian, was apparently deaf. He chuckled and booped her nose affectionately. “Babe, you don’t need to worry about that complicated stuff. Just stay by my side and let me protect you.” “But…” Chloe lowered her eyes, her voice suddenly trembling with unshed tears. “I read online that bosses always get seduced by their female subordinates. Damian, you promoted Sarah so fast… I… I just feel so insecure…” She actually managed to squeeze out two tears, glancing at me with a look of pure victimization. “And… she disrespected me. I just wanted to hear a cute dog bark for fun because I love puppies. But she brushed me off with those six ‘wishes.’ She doesn’t respect me at all…” I almost laughed out loud. She publicly humiliates me by asking me to bark like a dog, and somehow I’m the one in the wrong? I knew better than to argue logic with crazy. I put down my glass and looked at Damian. “Boss, your girlfriend just spent five minutes questioning my professional ethics and personal morals. Is she… trying to find an excuse to get out of paying that six grand?” “Pfft—” Someone in the corner snorted into their drink. Chloe turned beet red, like a cat whose tail got stepped on. “Damian! Look! She’s targeting me! Just because I’m your girlfriend, she’s jealous and trying to embarrass me!” Damian immediately went into panic mode, hugging her and making soothing noises. Then he frowned at me. “Sarah!” His voice was heavy. “Chloe is young and straightforward. She doesn’t mean any harm. You’ve been with the company for a long time. Can’t you just speak nicely instead of making her look bad?” He pulled out his phone, impatient. “It’s just six thousand, right? I’ll pay it for her!” He transferred the money instantly. Chloe tried to stop him but failed, a flash of regret crossing her face at the lost cash. My phone buzzed. [Payment Received: $6,000.00] Six grand for a toast? I’ll take it. I raised my glass to Chloe again, flashing my perfect customer-service smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Chloe. I keep business and pleasure strictly separate. I come to work to make money. After all—” “Flirting with the boss would really slow down my cash flow.” Laughter rippled through the room again. Chloe stood rigid in Damian’s arms, her face cycling through shades of green and white. If looks could kill, I’d be a pile of ash on the floor. 2 Chloe has considered me her imaginary enemy for a while now. She was a micro-influencer with a tiny following before she hooked up with Damian. Since then, she’s styled herself as the “Lady of the Company.” Any female employee who speaks more than two sentences to Damian gets the death stare. And I am Public Enemy Number One. Why? Because I’m the Sales Director. I report directly to Damian. And I’ve been with him since he started this company in a garage. That shared history is a thorn in Chloe’s side. That’s why she tried to humiliate me today. She wanted to assert her dominance in the most primitive way possible. I thought the drama was over for the night. But as we were leaving, Damian threw me right back into the fire. “Sarah, Client Zhang just texted. There are issues with the proposal for the merger. It’s urgent.” He waved his phone. “Hop in my car. I’ll drop you off, and we can talk on the way.” Beside him, Chloe’s eyes instantly reddened. She gripped Damian’s sleeve, her voice shaking. “Damian… you even know where she lives? What is going on between you two?” “What are you thinking?” Damian immediately softened his voice, frantically comforting her. “Last time we had a late meeting, the driver dropped her off. That’s how I know. Chloe, this is work!” Chloe bit her lip, nodding with the air of a martyr accepting a terrible burden. My head was throbbing. I really didn’t want to be part of this soap opera. “Damian, I’ll just Uber. We can talk tomorrow.” “No, they need the revisions tonight.” I had no choice. I followed them to the parking lot. As soon as we reached the car, the show started again. Chloe lunged for the passenger seat like she was claiming a throne. She sat down, buckled up, and flashed me a triumphant smile through the window. “Director Sarah, so sorry! This is Damian’s ‘Girlfriend Exclusive Seat.’ I can’t let you have it.” “Some women just love trying to steal the passenger seat, thinking it means something special.” She sighed dramatically. “Honestly, why bother? It’s so ugly when people try to squeeze into places they don’t belong.” I looked at her acting like a cliché mean girl in a teen movie. The irritation in my chest settled into something colder. She clearly didn’t learn her lesson at dinner. I opened the back door and spoke calmly. “You’re overthinking it, Miss Chloe. I actually hate the passenger seat.” She looked surprised as I slid into the seat directly behind the driver. “You might not know this,” I continued slowly, “but statistically, the passenger seat is the ‘death seat.’ In a crash, a driver instinctively swerves left to protect themselves, exposing the passenger side to impact.” I looked up, meeting her terrified eyes in the rearview mirror. I smiled. “That’s why I prefer sitting behind the driver. It’s the safest spot. Highest survival rate. Unlike the passenger seat… tsk. First to go.” Chloe’s face went pale. Her hand flew to her chest, clutching her seatbelt like a lifeline. “Sarah!” Damian started the car, frowning. “Stop scaring her! You know she’s timid.” He started cooing at his frightened little bunny again. I leaned back and closed my eyes. When I couldn’t take the baby talk anymore, I cut in. “Damian, are we discussing work or not? If you two keep flirting, I’ll be home before we start. Then I’ll have to text you later, and Miss Chloe might think we’re having a secret affair.” That shut them up. Silence filled the car for a few seconds. Then Chloe turned around, forcing a generous smile. “Director Sarah, don’t be mad. Maybe I was… too sensitive before.” She pulled out her phone. Her eyes, however, were hard. “To avoid misunderstandings, let’s add each other on WeChat. If you have urgent work matters after hours, just text me, and I’ll relay the message to Damian. That solves everything!” I almost laughed. Her logic was astounding. I have an urgent business matter, but I can’t contact my boss directly? I have to go through his unemployed influencer girlfriend who knows nothing about our business? I looked at Damian in disbelief, hoping he’d shut this down. Instead, he patted Chloe’s hand approvingly. “That’s a great idea. Chloe just wants to understand my work better and feel secure. Sarah, just add her. I want my girlfriend and my top manager to get along.” My heart went cold. To pacify his girlfriend, he was treating our business like a joke. Under his expectant gaze, I suppressed my nausea and scanned her QR code. Request accepted. Her nickname popped up: [Chloe <3 Damian 4Ever] Her profile picture was a close-up of them making out. Before I could recover from the cringe, my phone buzzed. First message from Chloe: "Director Sarah, remember to tell me immediately if anything happens with Damian at work! [Cute Emoji]" 3 That night, I revised the proposal until 3 AM. At 6 AM, my phone started vibrating like it was possessed. I slid it open. A wall of red notifications from [Chloe <3 Damian 4Ever]. [Director Sarah, are you up?] [I heard Damian is meeting Client Zhang today. Are you going?] [Is Zhang a man or a woman? How old?] [Since you claim you're innocent, you have to help me! If you see any women hitting on Damian, tell me! We're sisters now!] [Also, remind Damian to say 'I love you' twenty times a day. If he misses the quota, I'll be sad!] My brain was throbbing. I threw the phone aside. Ignoring her seemed like the best response. Ten minutes later, my phone rang. [Chloe <3 Damian 4Ever] I took a deep breath and answered. "Miss Chloe, it is 6:10 AM. Is the building on fire?" "You finally picked up!" She sounded angrier than me. "Why didn't you reply to my texts? Do you have a guilty conscience?" "I was sleeping." I rubbed my temples. "Sleeping?!" Her voice hit a pitch only dogs could hear. "How can you sleep? I'm so worried about Damian meeting clients! You have to watch him for me!" "Miss Chloe," I said, my voice dropping to absolute zero. "You are an adult. Please contact your boyfriend yourself. I am not your spy, and I don't have time for this." I hung up. Silence returned, but my sleep was gone. I showered and prepped for the meeting. At 9 AM sharp, Damian and I arrived at Client Zhang's office. As we walked into the conference room, my phone buzzed. Chloe: [Director Sarah, did you see Client Zhang? Send me a pic!] I ignored it. More messages flooded in. [Ignoring me? Are you still mad about last night?] [I know you're upset I suspect you, but I just love Damian so much.] [If you have nothing to hide, you should help me.] [Think about it. If I fight with Damian and ruin his mood, the company loses money. Can you take responsibility for that?!] What kind of mental gymnastics was this? I typed four words: "In meeting. Do not disturb." Then I muted my phone and shoved it deep into my briefcase.

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Chapter 1 On my fourth birthday, my dad established the “Problem Penalty System.” One wrong word? That’s 30 extra math problems. Wake up one second late? 40 problems. Not loud enough during morning reading? 50 problems. “You have to study hard, Lucas. You have to do these problems. You need to be better than her child. You need to make the Vance family proud!” My dad raised me alone. It was hard on him. So I had to be good. I had to listen. Even if my hand cramped so bad I couldn’t hold a pencil. It went on until my first school field trip. While the other kids were trading snacks and playing Pokémon cards, I was kneeling on the ground, knees bleeding, frantically solving math problems. “Mrs. Miller,” my dad had said to my teacher that morning, “I assigned Lucas 200 problems today. Please take a picture and send it to me so I know this brat isn’t slacking off.” The other kids laughed and threw pebbles at me. “No wonder he doesn’t have a mom! Who wants a kid who only knows how to do math problems?” I buried my head low, thinking a secret, forbidden thought: If I were that woman’s child, would I still have to do math problems? … “Lucas, did you finish the 200 problems I assigned today?” Dad’s voice was low and heavy. To my small ears, it sounded like a monster grinding its teeth behind a door. “Dad, t-today… the bus ride on the field trip made me dizzy. I only finished…” My voice got smaller and smaller. Sweat slicked my palms as I gripped my pants. “Excuses! All excuses!” Dad’s eyes suddenly bulged, staring at me viciously. He snatched my backpack. “You got three wrong! Three! How can you get such simple problems wrong? How are you ever going to beat her kid like this?” “Twenty extra problems for every mistake. Plus another 60 before dinner. Or you don’t eat!” I grabbed the workbook back, my chest tight with a damp, suffocating feeling. Before the field trip, I thought everyone’s parents were like this. I thought every kid had to do hundreds of math problems a day. Dad glanced at me, seeing right through me. “What? You see them playing while you’re working, and you feel it’s unfair?” “Ha! Let me tell you, they are all losers! If they don’t study now, when will they? Every problem you solve makes you better than them!” I wanted to tell him my classmates weren’t losers. Sometimes when I got stuck on a hard problem, I’d secretly ask my desk mate, Chloe. She’d look at it once, know the answer, and whisper how to solve it. But Dad never believed me. He always said they were no good. Another thick stack of worksheets landed in front of me. The remaining 50 problems, plus the new 60. That’s 110 problems total. Dad said if I didn’t finish, I couldn’t eat. I scrunched up my face and rubbed my flat stomach. I hadn’t eaten lunch because I was afraid I wouldn’t finish the problems. Now it looked like I wouldn’t get dinner either. It was okay. I was used to it. Tears dripped onto the paper, blurring the ink. Plip, plop. I didn’t want to do math anymore. In a dark corner of Dad’s room, there was a hidden photo of two people. Dad was smiling a big, goofy smile. But the woman next to him had a giant ‘X’ scratched over her face. I found a slip of paper tucked behind the photo. It had a phone number on it. I knew she was the “bad woman” Dad talked about. The one who abandoned her husband and son. I used to hate her. I hated her for making Dad sad. I never thought about finding her. But now… I pulled an old, secondhand phone from under my bed. I pressed the screen, lighting it up, and dialed the number. “Hello? Who is this?” “Mom… I don’t want to do math problems anymore.” The voice on the other end paused. My heart jumped into my throat. “Little boy, what is your father’s name?” “Frank Vance.” Silence. “Where do you live?” Chapter 2 “Lucas! How many problems have you done?” My heart stopped. I hung up the phone in a panic. I was stupid. How could I hope the mom who threw me away would want me back? Lucas Vance, you’ve done so many math problems, why are you still so dumb? By the time I finished, my stomach was cramping so hard it felt like it was twisting into knots. Dad checked my work with a red pen, problem by problem. Every time he did this, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I was drowning. Suddenly, Dad smiled. A big, bright smile. “Good boy! You got them all right! That’s my Lucas. Dad knew you were the smart one.” Dad smiled, so I smiled too. These were the rare happy moments. “Lucas, tomorrow is your sixth birthday. How about Dad takes you to a fancy restaurant for a big meal?” “Okay!” My eyes lit up. Happiness bubbled inside me. Kids at school always bragged about their birthday cakes. I’d never had one. I was already drooling thinking about it. That night, even though Dad assigned me another 100 problems as punishment for something small, and even though I was starving and my throat burned, I fell asleep smiling. The next day, watching Dad stick six candles into a big cake, it finally felt real. “Lucas, close your eyes and make a wish.” I gazed at him. If only Dad could be this gentle all the time. I closed my eyes and made my wishes silently. [First wish: I hope Dad is healthy and happy every day.] [Second wish: I hope Dad stops making me do math problems.] When I opened my eyes, Dad’s face had turned cold. “Lucas, what did you wish for? Tell Dad.” My heart trembled. I whispered, scared, “Dad, the books say if you say it out loud, it won’t come true…” “You dare talk back? Getting brave, huh? Add 100 problems! Do them now! While you eat!” Whispers erupted from the tables around us. My face burned with shame. But I didn’t dare disobey Dad. I whispered, “I wished for Dad to be healthy and happy.” Dad froze for a second, his voice softening again. “Blow out the candles.” I took a deep breath, trying to gather enough air to blow them all out at once. But I hadn’t eaten properly in a day and a half. I was weak. I couldn’t even get a full breath out. Only three candles flickered and died. “Why are you always like this?!” Dad’s roar seemed to shake the roof. His eyes were filled with rage and madness. He flipped the cake over, smashing it onto the table. “You can’t even blow out candles like a man! You’re acting like a little girl! How are you going to accomplish anything when you grow up?” “Add 500 problems! Start writing now! You don’t leave until you finish!” I couldn’t hold back the tears. Looking at Dad, I hated myself. I knew Dad was sick in his heart. I had to do better. I shouldn’t worry him. But I was useless. Why couldn’t I do even the smallest thing right? If I was gone, Dad would be happy, wouldn’t he? I pulled out the workbook Dad made me carry everywhere. People started gathering around, whispering. A kind-looking grandma stepped forward. “Sir, it’s the child’s birthday. Is this really necessary? 500 math problems? When will he finish?” “Yeah,” someone else added. “Kids have it hard enough. Look at him shaking from hunger. Let him eat something!” Dad exploded. He screamed hysterically at them. “This is my son! How I teach him is none of your business!” “What’s 500 problems? If he can’t handle a little hardship, he’ll never amount to anything!” “If you want your kids to be losers, go home and raise losers! Don’t tell me how to raise my son! He’s going to bring glory to our ancestors!” “You! You’re hopeless!” Dad scared them all away. He looked at me coldly. “Cry, cry, all you know is crying. Just like a little girl. Add another 100 problems. Finish them or you don’t leave!” Dad went to the bathroom. I knew he went to smoke after yelling at me. He was probably frustrated that I was such a disappointment. The area around me cleared out. “Is this guy trying to dine and dash?” “Haha, probably putting on a show so he can steal the AC.” I wanted to defend Dad, but a man in a black suit walked up to me. “Master Lucas, please allow me to take a strand of your hair.” Chapter 3 Before I could react, I felt a sharp pinch on my scalp. The man carefully put my hair into a small plastic bag, took a photo of me, and vanished. I was too dumb to figure out what the weird man wanted. Was he a bad guy? I didn’t know. That day, I wrote for a long, long time. The numbers and symbols twisted together, blurring before my eyes. My stomach was empty and dizzy. While Dad wasn’t looking, I crawled under the table and picked up crumbs of cake from the floor, stuffing them into my mouth. They were dusty, but to me, starving for two days, they tasted like heaven. The restaurant was closing, but I still had 100 problems left. Dad dragged me outside by my arm. “Get on the ground and write. You don’t come home until you’re done.” People walked by on the street, glancing at me. Their eyes felt like needles. My knees were bleeding, sticking to my pants with a sharp, stinging pain. I didn’t dare cry. I just gripped my pen and wrote for my life. My sixth birthday ended like that, in a sea of math problems. Even in my dreams, all I saw were formulas and equations. As for the phone call and the weird man, I completely forgot about them. … “Happy Birthday, Ryan!” I sat in the corner, watching enviously as classmates surrounded Ryan. He looked like a little prince. I wanted friends too. But I had to bring my workbook even to the bathroom during recess. Otherwise, I couldn’t finish Dad’s penalty problems. “Lucas, yesterday was your birthday, right? Happy Birthday!” Chloe poked me, startling me. “Thank you!” She helped me with math problems and gave me a birthday present. I wanted to ask if we were friends. But I was afraid I was dreaming, afraid I’d just be a joke. Inside the blue gift bag was just a card and some candy, but I was thrilled. But the next second, Dad stormed into the classroom like a madman. He pointed at me and screamed. “Lucas Vance! What are you doing?! Instead of doing problems, you’re flirting with girls!” “I came to ask your teacher something and check on you, and look at you! Disappointing!” The whole class stared. Chloe turned pale with fright. She stumbled back three steps, staying far away from me, like I was something dirty. My blood turned to ice. I sat frozen in my chair. “Forget school. Come home and do problems.” “I walk in and see you flirting. Who knows what other shameless things you do behind my back!” He wasn’t done. He scanned the class with contempt. “I’m warning you all. My son is going to be a great scientist. You losers better not try to seduce him and drag him down!” On the way home, Dad tore the gift bag to shreds. The card became confetti. The candy was crushed into powder. “1,000 problems! Kneel on the balcony and write! Don’t get up until you’re done!” I wrote in a daze until my legs went numb, until I passed out on the balcony floor. After that day, the other parents petitioned to have me moved to the worst class in the grade. My classmates avoided me like the plague. Dad didn’t care. “Hmph. Geniuses are forged in hardship. So what if the environment is bad?” “Teacher, don’t let him sit with anyone. Let him sit by the trash can. It won’t affect his studies!” I huddled in the dark corner, smelling like garbage. Classmates threw trash at me. They called me “Trash Boy.” I did math problems desperately, but my hands shook more and more. I made more mistakes, and the penalty problems piled higher and higher. My fingers were deformed from pressing on the pen. Old blisters broke, new ones formed. I could never finish. I was always hungry, always dizzy. Until one day in P.E., everything went black, and I collapsed.

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My adopted sister, Savannah, was obsessed with apocalypse-prepper novels. So when the temperature in Denver plunged to 70 below zero and stayed there for three straight days, she wasn’t scared; she was ecstatic. She declared it was the End of Days and, in a manic frenzy, maxed out every credit card she could get, buying enough freeze-dried food and ammo to last a decade. As a meteorology grad student at CU Boulder, I kept showing her the atmospheric models. It was a severe polar vortex, an anomaly, but it wasn’t permanent. “It’ll thaw in a week,” I pleaded. “Just buy enough for a few days.” But she wouldn’t listen. She filled our parents’ garage with hundreds of pounds of frozen meat. Worried about the biohazard of it all thawing and rotting, Mom, Dad, and I decided to give the excess food to our neighbors, who were already running low. That night, Savannah murdered us. She cornered us in the kitchen, her eyes glittering. “Rule number one of the apocalypse, Ivy: kill the bleeding hearts. Family doesn’t mean squat!” She stabbed my father first. “Three fewer mouths to feed. My chances of survival just went way up.” She was still gloating when a National Guard rescue team drove by. Thinking they were raiders coming for her stash, she charged out of the house, knife raised. They shot her dead. I opened my eyes. We were back. All of us. Seated at the dining table for Sunday dinner. Three days before the freeze. “From now on, I am done with the Miller family! We are through!” The shout came from Savannah. The fork in my hand clattered to the plate. I knew instantly—she remembered, too. Mom and Dad were blindsided. “Savannah, honey, what are you talking about? What’s wrong?” I glanced at the thermostat. It was August. 77 degrees. But I knew what was coming. Thinking of what she did to us, I couldn’t speak as my parents tried to calm her down. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” she spat, grabbing her purse. “You’re not even my real parents!” With that, she stormed out. Over the next three days, she leveraged every predatory payday loan and high-limit credit card she could find, racking up an insane $500,000 in debt. She bought a reinforced cabin in the foothills, installed a bunker, and paid triple the market price for generators, supplies, and high-powered hunting rifles. Then, just as I knew it would, the snow began to fall. In August. The city panicked. People mobbed the grocery stores. I calmly took Mom and Dad to King Soopers and we bought a reasonable, two-week supply of food and water. We’d just finished unloading the car when my phone rang. Savannah. Her voice was giddy. “A hundred pounds? Seriously? I saw the Ring camera. You yuppies are pathetic. A hundred pounds of cabbage is, what, ten heads?” She laughed. “I’m not responsible for you this time. I’m going to be a queen in this apocalypse. When you’re starving, maybe I’ll toss you some scraps if you beg nicely.” Mom and Dad looked at our modest pantry, their faces etched with worry. “Ivy… is she right? Is this really it? This isn’t enough.” I didn’t even look up from my laptop, where I was tracking the NOAA data. “She’s rotted her brain with prepper-porn. It’s a severe anomaly, but it’s not the end of the world. Trust me.” My confidence as a meteorologist calmed them. A little. They stopped fussing over the food and instead, Mom texted Savannah. “Please be safe, honey. Ivy says this will all be over in a few days. We’ll come get you then!” My stomach clenched. We’d been switched at birth, and Savannah had lived with us for 15 years. Her biological parents were dirt-poor, and she hated them. But Mom and Dad… they still loved her. When they heard her birth family was trying to marry her off for cash, they’d brought her right back home. They never saw the monster I did. Not until she was standing over them with a knife. Savannah’s reply text was scathing: “A few days? You’ll be popsicles in a few days! Denver has NEVER seen temps like this. This is IT! Just watch me rule this new world. If you live that long.” Dad sighed and went back to organizing his workbench. Mom started a game of online bridge with her friends. Savannah, who must have been monitoring our home’s security feed, called again, enraged. “You’re playing cards? The world is ending, and you’re acting like it’s a snow day? We’ll see how long you last!” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t swallow the rage from last time. “Heard you bought a cabin, Savannah. And generators? Rifles? Where’d a broke girl like you get that kind of cash?” She shrieked. “None of your business! I got it myself, with my own skills!” I laughed. “You mean payday loans? Maxed-out credit cards? Don’t act like you’re some kind of financial genius. How are you going to pay that back? We’re not bailing you out.” “Pay it back?” she scoffed. “When everyone’s dead, who’s gonna come collect? I’m never asking you for a dime, and don’t you dare come begging me! It’s every man for himself now!” A moment later, our family text chain lit up. Dozens of photos. Three massive storage units, packed floor-to-ceiling. “I hear city people can live on a single leaf of lettuce a day. Good luck with your 100 pounds of cabbage! Thoughts and prayers!” I immediately screenshotted everything and posted it on the r/Denver subreddit. Title: My sister thinks it’s the apocalypse and is ‘prepared.’ Body: [PHOTOS] She just sent these to our family. Says she’s stocked for 10 years and we’re all gonna die. Is she… okay? The post blew up. At first, it was jokes. user1: This is what happens when you read ‘The Stand’ too many times. user2: Holy hell, does she have a bunker? Is she single? Asking for a friend. user3: Damn, she’s not just a prepper, she’s the final boss of preppers. Then, one comment stopped me cold. Mike_D78: Is this real? Can you share her location? My kids and I are 10 miles away, our power is out and we have no food. We’re going to die. Please, can she spare anything? I realized this wasn’t a game. The disaster was real, even if it wasn’t the apocalypse. People were already in serious trouble. A chorus of support for Mike flooded in. OP, tell your sister to donate! People are dying! I replied to the thread: Sorry everyone, she’s not with us. She has the food, but she won’t share. She’s made that very clear. Please find other help. Then, I deleted the entire post. The snow kept falling. A high-tech drone buzzed outside our window and dropped a package in the yard. It was a piece of rotten, freezer-burned meat. Savannah’s voice came over its speaker, tinny and mocking. “Don’t say I never gave you anything! A little treat, for old time’s sake.” I was staring at our own full pantry when I heard a loud banging from her end of the still-open phone line. A muffled man’s voice: “Ma’am, State Emergency Services! We need to talk to you!” I heard Savannah panic. “Who are you? How did you find me?” “Ma’am, we saw reports online of a significant stockpile of supplies at this address. The situation downstream in Aurora is critical. We’re asking for donations.” “You saw what? Online? No! I’m not giving you anything!”

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After finding my lost notebook, the school’s Prom Queen decided to mock me in front of everyone. “Does this ugly duckling actually think that if she writes his name enough times in a diary, she’ll turn into a swan?” she sneered, waving my notebook in the air. She turned to the guy standing next to her. “Jaxson, be honest. Could you ever like someone like her?” Jaxson Miller ran a hand through his hair, looking annoyed. “Can you stop asking stupid questions? You know who I’m into.” In an instant, I became the punchline of the entire school. But later, during the Monday Morning Assembly, I stood at the podium holding that exact same notebook. I read Jaxson’s name into the microphone, word for word, along with a detailed list of his “great achievements.” I watched the blood drain from both of their faces, turning them pale as ghosts. As I walked past them later, my whisper was loud enough for them to hear clearly: “Was that exciting? You romance-obsessed idiots.” “Did you forget? I’m the Disciplinary Chair.” Chapter 1 The bell for the end of late-night study hall rang like a heavy sigh, but the stale air in the room didn’t clear. I had just unscrewed the cap of my thermos when a wave of sickly-sweet perfume assaulted my senses. Chloe Sterling’s face, perfectly made up, loomed into my view. She was grinning like a cat that had just stolen the cream. In her manicured hand, she dangled a familiar object—my leather-bound notebook with the frayed edges. “Hey, Harper,” she cooed. “Did you lose something?” Before I could even open my mouth, she was already strutting to the center of the classroom, surrounded by her clique. All eyes focused on her and the notebook. “Oh my god, you guys,” she announced, her voice pitched just loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Let’s see what our Grade-A goody-two-shoes writes about in her secret diary. Is it secrets? Spells?” Her fingertips, tipped with rhinestone-encrusted acrylics, flipped through the pages lightly. I have an excellent memory. I only use that notebook to record keywords and data, so to the untrained eye, it looks like a mess of scratch paper. Dense rows of numbers and names. To her, it probably looked like alien code. Until she gasped, stopping dramatically on that page. The malice in her eyes instantly turned into pure, unfiltered mockery. Like Columbus discovering a new continent, she held the notebook high, showing the page to everyone. “Jaxson… Jaxson… Jaxson…” She laughed. “Wow. A whole page filled with nothing but Jaxson Miller’s name!” The air in the room froze for a second, then exploded into suppressed giggles and whispers. “No way,” someone whispered. “Harper Vance? Secretly in love with Jaxson?” “I didn’t think she had emotions,” another guy laughed. “Is this that manifestation thing? Write the name down thirty times and he falls in love with you? That is so cringe.” I watched this performance expressionlessly. Chloe, basking in her victory, walked over to the eye of the storm—Jaxson Miller. He finally looked up from his phone game, his brows knitted together in a frown that screamed ‘everyone is annoying me.’ Chloe leaned in like a pet seeking a treat, shoving the notebook under his nose. “Jax, look! She’s obsessed with you. Do you think you could ever like her back?” Jaxson ran a hand through his hair aggressively, his eyes sweeping over me. There was no curiosity in his gaze, only the disgust of someone looking at trash. “Can you stop asking stupid questions?” His voice was cold, laced with a warning tone. “You know exactly who I like.” “I’m just teasing!” Chloe giggled, throwing a provocative look my way. In an instant, I became the school’s biggest joke. A toad dreaming of eating swan meat. A delusional nobody thinking she had a shot with the golden boy. But none of them knew that as I watched this monkey show, I didn’t feel a shred of humiliation. Humiliation? Please. I just found it noisy. I felt that the quiet order I carefully maintained after study hall had been thoroughly disrupted by these hormone-overloaded idiots. My brain calmly analyzed the situation. Chloe Sterling. Daughter of a school board member. Pretty, yes, but functionally brainless. She probably thought she had caught me in some huge scandal that would make me lose face in front of Jaxson. Maybe she hoped I’d cry and transfer schools, clearing the way for her to be the undisputed “Queen.” Truly… pathetic. Chapter 2 As for Jaxson Miller, the prince of the school… My fingers tapped lightly under my desk as I recalled the actual contents of that page—the parts Chloe had ignored in her excitement. September 5, 7:32 AM: Jaxson Miller. Tardy, 2 minutes. Reason: Buying breakfast off-campus. September 7, 3rd Period Calculus, 10:15-10:30: Jaxson Miller. Sleeping. Duration: 15 minutes. September 10, English Homework: Jaxson Miller. Assignment 90% identical to Ryan Jacobs’. Verdict: Plagiarism. September 12, Post-Gym: Jaxson Miller. Intentionally shoved a freshman near the snack bar, causing knee abrasion. September 15, Evening Study Hall, 7:45 PM: Jaxson Miller and Chloe Sterling left the room together. Returned 8:05 PM. Uniforms disheveled. Red mark on Chloe’s neck. Location Inference: Equipment Room. Item by item. Case by case. They seemed to have forgotten that I have been the Head of the Student Conduct Committee since freshman year. My job is to record this. My father is a Detective. My mother is a Judge. The most important lesson they taught me was “Procedural Justice” and “Rule of Law.” To me, in this small ecosystem of a high school, the Student Handbook is the law. And Jaxson Miller is a repeat offender who tramples on those rules daily. I didn’t record his name because I had a crush. I didn’t record it because I hated him. I recorded it because it happened. I had tried to communicate with him before, reminding him to watch his behavior. His response was always a wolf-whistle and a dismissive, “You monitor too much, Vance.” Disappointment, when accumulated, just becomes numb responsibility. That page of “Jaxson” was just a draft I was using to tally his monthly infraction count for the administration report. The farce in the classroom continued to escalate. Seeing no reaction from me, Chloe seemed unsatisfied. She waved the notebook in front of Jaxson again. “Jax, look at the handwriting. It’s actually really neat. Every stroke is full of love! Unlike me, my handwriting is messy…” She wanted to see me break down, cry, deny it, or get angry. Unfortunately, I let her down. I stood up slowly. My chair scraped the floor with a sharp sound, successfully drawing everyone’s attention back to me. I walked toward them, step by step, calm and composed. I’m five-foot-eight, and my posture is perfect. I walked right up to Chloe and looked down at her. She was intimidated by my presence, instinctively taking half a step back, but she gripped the notebook tighter. “Are you done looking?” I asked. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was cold as ice. “The show is over. Give me back my property.” I didn’t look at her. My gaze shot straight past her to Jaxson. Chapter 3 Jaxson’s impatient expression finally shifted into a serious evaluation. It was as if he was realizing for the first time that the “nerd” Harper Vance wasn’t quite what he and Chloe assumed. Chloe, losing face in front of the crowd, shrieked, “Why should I? You have a crush on Jaxson and you won’t let people talk about it? You did it, admit it!” “I will say this one more time.” I deepened my tone, my eyes locked on Jaxson. “Give. It. Back.” Just as we were at a standoff, Jaxson moved. He snatched the notebook from Chloe’s hand. He didn’t give it back to me. Instead, he held it, flipping through it nonchalantly. When he saw the page filled with his name, the corner of his mouth curled into a playful, almost cruel smile. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting my calm ones. “Harper Vance,” he said, shaking the notebook in his hand. His voice was lazy, magnetic, but full of arrogance. “You’ve got some nerve.” I looked at him, looked at the “evidence” in his hand, and internally rolled my eyes. Another idiot. He wasn’t holding my diary. He was holding his own indictment. The drama was cut short by the bell for the final session. When school ended, Jaxson didn’t return the notebook; he shoved it into his desk drawer. Chloe walked out with him, acting like a victorious peacock. I didn’t chase them. After they left, I simply walked to my locker and took out my backup logbook. I went home, threw my bag down, and went straight to the bathroom to wash my hands. The cold water rinsed away the memory of that cheap perfume and the noise. I looked in the mirror. My face was expressionless. No tears. No anger. Originally, I viewed their provocations as adults view toddlers fighting in a sandbox—tiresome. But now that they had brought the fight to my doorstep, I wasn’t going to stay silent. I had intended to submit that list privately to the teachers for the year-end evaluation. But now? Now we could add a public segment. Chapter 4 Monday morning. The “Star-Spangled Banner” played over the PA system as classes shuffled onto the football field for the morning assembly. After Friday’s incident, I had submitted a request to the Principal and the Dean of Students to speak during the assembly. My reason was official: “To summarize the semester’s disciplinary trends and announce specific infraction case studies as a warning before midterms.” The request was approved immediately. No one says no to the Valedictorian and Model Student. I stood on the side of the podium stage, waiting. In the crowd below, Jaxson and Chloe stood side by side, laughing at something. Chloe nudged him, and they both looked up at me. Even from fifty yards away, I could read their expressions: condescension mixed with amusement. They probably thought I was up there to apologize. Or maybe they thought I was just posturing. The anthem ended. The student host cleared his throat. “Next, please welcome the Chair of the Conduct Committee, Harper Vance, for a special address.” I walked to the center of the stage, facing the entire student body and faculty. I didn’t look at the two glaring faces in the front row. I looked at the grey sky. The Dean handed me the microphone. “Good luck, Harper.” The microphone felt heavy, like a grenade with the pin pulled. “Good morning,” my voice echoed across the field. “Today, as the representative of the Conduct Committee, I need to address the blatant disregard for school regulations that has been occurring on our campus. I will be reading a list of specific infractions. I hope everyone takes this as a warning.” A ripple of confusion went through the crowd. Chloe’s smile froze. Jaxson frowned, realizing something was off. I didn’t give them time to react. I flipped the first page of my report. “Jaxson Miller,” I read the name clearly. The whispering below spiked in volume. Jaxson’s body stiffened. “September 3rd. Evening Study Hall. 7:35 PM to 7:50 PM. Sleeping in the back row. Duration: 15 minutes. Failed to correct behavior after teacher warning.” “September 7th. 10:00 AM. Calculus Quiz. Sleeping for 15 minutes. Upon waking, engaged in frequent eye contact with student Ryan Jacobs and attempted to view his answer sheet. Issued a verbal warning by the proctor.” I saw his face turn red. He stared at me deathly hard, his eyes practically spitting fire. I paused, then turned the page.

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Four years after I died, my grandmother rummaged through my old things, found my dead cell phone, and somehow managed to call Julian. “Sarah, it’s been four whole years, and you finally remember to call me?” Julian’s voice was dripping with venom. “What? Did your sugar daddy run out of money? If you’re broke, go sell yourself on the street. Don’t come crying to me.” He didn’t stop there. “Let me make this clear. I don’t want to see you for a single second. I’d rather be dead.” On this end of the line, Grandma froze. Her hunched back looked incredibly lonely in the empty living room. She held the phone with trembling hands and asked carefully, “Julian? Did you and Sarah have a fight? I… I can’t find Sarah.” After she spoke, her cloudy eyes stared blankly into the empty room. Then, as if a memory briefly flickered, she murmured to herself, “Oh, that’s right. Sarah died. She’s gone. How did I forget again…” Chapter 1 maybe it was because I couldn’t let go of Grandma, but after I died, my soul stayed by her side. Unfortunately, Grandma had Alzheimer’s. She often forgot that I was dead. Today, she had another episode. She wandered out to the park alone and forgot the way home. The stubborn little old lady sat on a bench, muttering to herself, “It doesn’t matter if I’m lost. When Sarah sees I’m not home, she’ll definitely come find me.” My ghost was hovering right next to her. She wasn’t even far from our apartment, but because she couldn’t hear me, I couldn’t guide her. As the sun began to set, I started panicking, floating around frantically. She was nearly eighty; if she spent the night in the park, she wouldn’t make it. Luckily, Grandma seemed to realize this too. Seeing the park empty out, she finally stood up. She grabbed the first person she saw. “Have you seen my granddaughter, Sarah?” I knew the drill. Usually, people would chat with her, realize she was confused, and call the police. Once the cops came, she’d be safe. Unfortunately, she grabbed the wrong person. She grabbed Julian. Julian looked down at Grandma, his tone laced with impatience. “Where is Sarah? Why are you out here alone? It’s late. If she’s leaving an old woman alone in a park, she’s probably out with…” Chapter 2 He didn’t finish the sentence, probably out of respect for Grandma. But I knew what he wanted to say. She’s probably out sleeping with some random guy. See? Even though I’d been dead for four years, this man’s hatred for me hadn’t faded a bit. Grandma didn’t catch his drift. Seeing Julian made her face light up. “Julian! You haven’t come over for dinner in ages. You love my pot roast, don’t you? Tomorrow is your birthday. Come over. I’ll make it for you.” She patted his arm. “You young people need to work through things. Sarah is a good girl, she just bottles things up. When she left today, she said she was going to buy you a birthday gift. She wants to surprise you tomorrow.” My heart ached. Grandma’s memory was stuck on that day. Four years ago. Back when we were still in love. Back when we were inseparable, before she showed up. Julian sneered. “Grandma, this isn’t funny. Sarah and I broke up. If she’s buying a gift, it’s probably for some other guy.” Grandma froze. “Broke up? But… Sarah never told me. Julian, don’t be mad. When Sarah comes back, I’ll scold her!” The little old lady looked so fiercely protective. I wanted to hug her, to tell her not to be angry, but my arms passed right through her body. Four years, and I still wasn’t used to being a ghost. Chapter 3 Julian laughed, a cold, harsh sound. He clearly didn’t believe a word she said. “I told you, we are done. If this is some trick Sarah told you to play, I’ll let it slide this once. But please, do not mention her name in front of me again.” Just then, two neighborhood ladies walked by and spotted Grandma. “Mrs. Miller! Why are you still out here? Did you forget where you live again?” one asked. Then she whispered loudly to her friend, “Poor thing. It’s just her and her granddaughter, and then the granddaughter died four years ago. She’s all alone.” Right. I died four years ago. I remembered that birthday. I had gone to the mall, bursting with excitement to buy his gift, only to see him walking arm-in-arm with another woman. I walked out in a daze. Then, my phone buzzed. A DM from a stranger. It was a selfie. A girl wearing a men’s white dress shirt, lying on messy hotel sheets. The caption read: They say high school sweethearts are hard to beat, but what about a childhood friend? I recognized the shirt. I had sewn the top button on myself. I had even stitched a tiny, unique flower pattern on the cuff—something I learned from YouTube. Julian wore it to every major meeting. He called it our love token. And now, it was on her. That was the moment I learned how cheap love could be. Chapter 4 Hearing the neighbors, Julian went rigid. Disbelief washed over his face. “What did you say? Sarah is dead?” He grabbed the woman’s arm. “You’re lying, right? Sarah paid you to say that. That woman is an expert liar.” The neighbors looked at him like he was insane. “Who is this guy? Is he crazy? Who jokes about death? That’s bad luck.” Grandma seemed to drift back to reality. Her lips trembled. “That’s right… Sarah… Sarah isn’t here anymore…” Julian stood there, frozen, looking ridiculous. My spirit followed Grandma and the neighbors back home. I was relieved Julian didn’t follow us immediately. Back in the apartment, Grandma sat on the sofa, stroking a framed photo of me, wiping away tears. “Oh, Sarah. You were so young. Why did you have to go before me?” I tried to wipe her tears, but I couldn’t. I could only cry with her. “Grandma, I didn’t leave. I’m right here.” But she couldn’t hear me. Then, the doorbell rang. “Grandma, open up. It’s me, Julian.” I panicked. No. He couldn’t come in. If he saw my things… Chapter 5 Grandma was slow to react. She turned her head toward the door. Outside, Julian shouted, “Grandma, let me in! I thought about it—Sarah can’t be dead. She’s just trying to trick me into coming over. Well, I’m here! Stop pretending! Open the door!” He started pounding on the door. I was furious. He was going to scare her. The old Julian would never have done this; he used to speak softly to her. Now, he was practically breaking the door down. I rushed to the door, swinging my ghostly fists at him, screaming, “Yes! I lied! I tricked you! Now leave! Get out!” But my fists passed through him. I cried in frustration. Inside, a loud crash made me rush back. Grandma was fine. She had just dropped the picture frame. She picked it up, wiping the glass. “It got dirty. Sarah loves this photo. Thank goodness it didn’t break.” It was the photo Julian took of me. I wanted to tell her: I don’t like that one anymore, Grandma. I like the one of us together.

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It started as a freak accident—a glitch in the matrix, or maybe just a really weird app update. Somehow, I was FaceTiming with myself from ten years in the future. Excitement bubbling over, I asked the big question: “So, who do we end up with?” Future Me went silent for a beat. Then, he dropped the name of my mortal enemy. I burst out laughing. “Man, I didn’t know I’d still be this sarcastic in my late twenties. Good one.” But before the laugh could fade, a figure walked into the frame on his end. “Babe, who are you talking to?” I stared at the screen. The woman was older, more glamorous, but unmistakable. It was my high school nemesis. I froze, effectively turning into a statue. 1. The visual was surreal. I was locking eyes with Chloe. The Chloe. She was wearing silk pajamas, leaning casually against Future Me’s shoulder. After about sixty seconds of brain-dead silence, I let out a screech that probably shattered windows. Chloe raised an eyebrow, looking amused by my existence. Then, just to mess with me, she kissed Future Me on the cheek and shot the camera a smug, challenging look. My world was ending. Seeing my mental breakdown, Future Me jumped in for damage control. He started rattling off a list of Chloe’s “good qualities” to explain how on earth we got married. It was horrifying. It was like watching a body snatcher inhabit my future self. After a few minutes of him praising her, I couldn’t take it anymore. “You are a disappointment,” I snapped. “You know how much I can’t stand her. I literally just graduated high school, celebrating my freedom from her existence, and you’re telling me I marry her in a decade? That’s not a future; that’s a diagnosis.” Maybe he’d been happy for so long he forgot the trenches. Future Me looked genuinely confused until my outburst reminded him that currently, Chloe and I were like oil and water. If we were in the same room, eyes were rolling. He scratched his head, looking awkward. Chloe, standing next to him, smirked. “Hate to break it to you,” she drawled, “but we go to the same college in the fall.” She looked so triumphant. It took everything in me not to punch my monitor. Ten years later, and she was still the same—one expression from her could send my blood pressure through the roof. I glared. She beamed. Seeing my will to live fading, Future Me shoved Chloe out of the frame and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Look, we do end up together, but you have other flings before that.” “Like who?” I perked up. He thought for a second. “Remember that cheerleader captain who helped you with registration? The blonde? You guys date for a bit. It’s great.” We started excitedly discussing my upcoming love life, completely forgetting the woman standing behind him. You know, his wife. It wasn’t until I saw Chloe’s face—a mix of amusement and icy rage—that I realized we messed up. “Uh…” I whispered to Future Me. “You might want to check your six.” He turned around, confused, and met the gaze of a very unamused wife. His smile died instantly. Panic set in. “Actually,” he stammered, pivoting hard, “she was totally mid. And she ghosted me. Really, she couldn’t compare to you, honey.” Watching myself lie was painful. I realized now that my poker face was trash. Chloe scoffed. She snatched the phone from his hand. “We’re done chatting. Future You and I need to have a little talk.” She hung up. But right before the screen went black, I saw her sit on his lap. I stared at the reflection in my dark screen, my brain short-circuiting with intrusive thoughts. I was going insane. 2. Thanks to Future Me, I didn’t sleep a wink. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Chloe. The worst part? We had a post-grad hang at a Karaoke spot the next day. And obviously, Chloe was going to be there. I psyched myself up and walked into the private room. The sound of off-key singing blasted out. When I opened the door, the music cut. Everyone turned to look at me. Then, in perfect synchronization, they turned to look at Chloe. Because our rivalry was legendary, we were basically a package deal in everyone’s minds. The room was split between people waiting for a fight, people holding back laughter, and the weirdos who secretly “shipped” us. Usually, I ignored it. I hated Chloe. It was simple. Until last night, when I found out my nemesis becomes my wife. The couches were packed. The only empty spot was—you guessed it—right next to Chloe. I sighed, accepted my fate, and sat down. Chloe glanced at me. She noticed the dark circles under my eyes and frowned slightly before masking it with a tease. “Rough night? Or were you just tossing and turning dreaming about me?” Normally, I’d tell her to get over herself. Unfortunately, she was technically right. I looked away, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. “You’re delusional,” I muttered, grabbing a Coke to cool down. Chloe paused, dropping the sarcasm. She stared at me, realizing something was off. I avoided eye contact like it was a sport. The others didn’t notice the weird vibe and dragged Chloe up to sing. The moment she stood up, I exhaled. But my peace lasted two seconds. My phone buzzed. Future Me: Calculated the time zones. You’re at Karaoke right now, yeah? Future Me: Fun fact: The song she’s about to sing? It’s for you. My heart started hammering against my ribs. The phone felt radioactive in my hand. I looked up instinctively and locked eyes with Chloe. On the screen, the title popped up. “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. The room erupted in whistles and cheers. Chloe kept looking at me as the intro played. 3. I hate to admit it, but Chloe can sing. The room faded away. Maybe it was the text messages messing with my head, but I swear I could feel the weight of her gaze. In the dim light, there was something in her eyes I’d never let myself see before. When she finished, everyone clapped. Some brave soul asked if she was singing it for anyone specific. She didn’t deny it. She didn’t confirm it. She just smiled. She sat back down next to me, looking jittery. Her hands were clenched in her lap. My phone buzzed again. Future Me: She thinks singing that will make you realize she has a crush on you. Spoiler: You didn’t get it. You sat there like a lump. Future Me: She tried to work up the nerve to ask you if you liked the song all night but chickened out. Future Me: Look at her hands. She’s literally shaking. I glanced sideways. Sure enough, her hands were trembling. The corner of my mouth twitched up. I leaned in close, whispering with a teasing lilt, “Chloe, why are you shaking?” Her head snapped toward me. She scooted away reflexively. But when she saw the mischief in my eyes, she realized I was messing with her. A flash of disappointment crossed her face before she put her armor back on. “What are you looking at? It’s cold in here,” she snapped. “I’m freezing.” She was so defensive. Usually, I’d be mentally roasting her, but right now? It was kind of cute. I noticed the tips of her ears were bright red. I felt like I had discovered a new continent. I finally had the upper hand. I grinned at her. ” careful, Chloe. People might think you have a crush on me.” I watched her face crumble. Her eyes went wide, her ears turned scarlet, and her fingers twitched. “As if!” she shouted, way too loud. Realizing she was making a scene, she dialed it back, looking away. “You wish.” I almost laughed out loud. I immediately texted Future Me. Me: I went for it. Asked if she had a crush on me. Future Me: No way. What did she say?? Me: She denied it. Aggressively. Future Me sent a face-palm emoji. I felt the cringe transcending time and space. Minutes passed, and Chloe was still malfunctioning. She was fidgeting, refusing to look at me. I snapped a sneaky picture and sent it to the future. A moment later, I got a voice note. I meant to play it quietly, but my thumb slipped. I hit speaker. Future Chloe’s voice boomed through the Karaoke room. “God, was I really that cringe? I was so emotionally constipated.” EVERYONE turned to look at me. Chloe froze, staring right at my phone. I panicked, tried to stop it, and accidentally hit the next voice note. “I’m surprised I ever got a husband acting like that. Look at me, wanting to say something but acting like a brat.” Dude. Future Chloe was ruthless. She was roasting her younger self into oblivion. I fumbled with the phone and finally killed the volume. The room was silent. “Uh,” I stammered. “My cousin. She was telling me a story about… her friend. Who waited ten years to tell a guy she liked him because she was too stubborn.” It wasn’t subtle. It was a neon sign. Chloe whipped her head around, staring at the wall. The others bought it and went back to fighting over the mic. But Chloe went quiet. She was thinking. Thirty minutes later, she leaned over. “So?” she whispered. “What happened?” “What happened with who?” “Your cousin’s friend. Did she get the guy?” “Of course… not,” I said. “My cousin’s friend was too proud. Kind of like you. She spent all her time arguing with him instead of being nice. Why would he like her back?” I was being petty. Even knowing we get married, I still wanted to mess with her. Chloe’s face fell. I sighed, feigning wisdom. “Life’s short. You gotta shoot your shot. Otherwise, you miss the bus.” Chloe bit her lip. She looked up at me, sudden and intense. “I like you.”

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My body had been a timeshare for “Players”—interdimensional travelers with one mission: seduce my husband and win over my son. For three years, they hijacked my life. But not a single one succeeded. The System finally gave up and dumped my consciousness back into the driver’s seat. The moment I opened my eyes, neon text floated in the air like a holographic Twitch chat. 【 Is this another Player? 】 【 Seriously? How many is that now? None of them can crack the husband. 】 【 I bet fifty bucks this one quits in a month. The difficulty setting on this family is broken. 】 【 I give her two weeks. 】 The “Feed”—as I called it—was buzzing, placing bets on when I’d flee with my tail between my legs. They didn’t know one crucial detail: I wasn’t a Player. I was the original owner. And no matter what Marcus had become in my absence, I wasn’t going anywhere. 1 I got dressed just as a knock came at the door. It was Martha, our housekeeper. “Ms. Evelyn, breakfast is ready. Please come downstairs.” Ms. Evelyn? My hand froze on my cardigan. I glanced at the floating text. 【 Whoa, the new Player looks shook. 】 【 Why? Martha didn’t stutter. The title of ‘Mrs. Vance’ is reserved for the OG wife only. 】 【 Our male lead is savage. He figured out the first Player was a fake on day one and ordered everyone to call them by her maiden name. 】 【 Gotta love a man who knows his wife that well. 】 A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Marcus knew. He knew those women weren’t me. I pulled on my coat, ignored the glowing commentary, and went downstairs. Breakfast was laid out, but Martha was still busy in the kitchen, preparing a separate tray. I sat down and sipped my coffee. The text scrolled faster. 【 Leo looks sick today. Martha needs to hurry up and check on the poor kid. 】 Leo was sick? Panic spiked in my chest. The Feed had taught me that the previous “Players” only cared about grinding affection points with Marcus. They ignored our son, Leo. Or worse, they tried to use him as a prop and got frustrated when his trauma made him difficult. I bolted from the chair and ran up the stairs. But on the third-floor landing, a heavy security door with a digital keypad blocked my path. I stared at it. We never had a security door here. 【 Look at her face. She’s clueless. 】 【 What’s she doing on the third floor? Trying to exploit the kid for points? 】 【 Too bad. The Firewall is impenetrable. 】 【 Only the male lead knows the code. Leo and Martha have fingerprint access. The Players usually give up here. 】 The Feed was mocking me, waiting for me to retreat. I pressed my lips together and reached for the keypad. 2 【 What is she doing? 】 【 Another fail incoming. The alarm is gonna trigger in 3… 2… 】 I punched in the numbers. The light didn’t turn red. No alarm blared. Click. The lock disengaged. 【 WTF? How does she know the code? 】 【 Is she using a cheat engine? 】 Ignoring the chaos in the chat, I pushed the door open. The third floor was exactly how I left it. Someone had preserved it like a museum. I navigated the hallway by muscle memory and found Leo’s room. I knocked softly, then entered. The pale blue walls, the glow-in-the-dark stars Marcus and I stuck on the ceiling—it was all the same. A framed photo of the three of us sat on the nightstand. My son lay curled in the center of the king-sized bed, his face flushed an unnatural crimson. I touched his forehead. He was burning up. I frantically searched the room for the first-aid kit. I found it in the bathroom vanity, just where we used to keep it. Inside, I found mostly empty boxes of children’s fever reducers and cold medicine. My heart broke. He had been sick so often these past three years. 3 I found a thermometer. 102.2°F. “Leo,” I whispered, shaking him gently. “Leo, baby, wake up.” I pulled out my phone and called Martha. “Martha, tell the driver to bring the car around. I’m taking Leo to the hospital. Pack some oatmeal and bring it to us later.” Martha hesitated on the other end, clearly confused by the command coming from “Ms. Evelyn,” but the urgency in my voice regarding Leo made her agree. I hung up. Leo groaned, his brow furrowed in pain. I wrapped him in a thick coat and lifted him. “He’s so light,” I whispered, my voice trembling. He felt like a bird in my arms. A seven-year-old shouldn’t be this fragile. As I carried him downstairs, the Feed scrolled in my peripheral vision. 【 Of course he’s light. The last Player kept ‘forgetting’ to feed him whenever Marcus was on business trips. 】 【 Yeah, if the kid didn’t help her ‘quest,’ she punished him. 】 【 Remember the one who made him stand in the rain to pick hydrangeas? Because the profile said the OG wife loved them? 】 My grip tightened on my son. Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. They used my body to hurt him. I couldn’t change the past. All I could do was spend the rest of my life making it up to them. 4 At the private clinic, the doctors got Leo hooked up to an IV. I sat by the bed, stroking his hair, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was so small. How terrified must he have been, seeing his mother’s face look at him with cold, calculating eyes? 【 This Player is acting… different. 】 【 Is nobody gonna talk about how she knew the third-floor code? 】 【 Guys… do you think the Queen is back? 】 【 If Evelyn is back, I’m gonna cry. 】 Knock, knock. I ignored the Feed and opened the door. Martha stood there, clutching a thermos. I took it and set it on the table. Martha didn’t leave. She stood there, wringing her hands, her eyes searching my face. She looked older. Three years of protecting Leo from women wearing my face had taken its toll. “What is it, Martha?” I asked softly. “Is it… is it really you, Ma’am?” I paused. The Feed hadn’t fully figured it out, but Martha knew. “How did you know?” The old woman’s eyes welled up. “Mr. Vance changed the lock codes. He said only two people in the world knew the combination to the third floor.” The code was the date I told Marcus I was pregnant. I remember jumping into his arms, waving the test strip. “Yes,” I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. “I’m back, Martha.”

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Chapter 1 At the altar, my husband-to-be fell in love with the maid of honor. Right there, in front of God and the entire Manhattan elite, Asher Sterling slid the Tiffany diamond onto Chloe’s finger instead of mine. I stood there in my Vera Wang gown, instantly transformed from the envy of the city into its biggest punchline. I was frozen, my brain short-circuiting, when suddenly, a row of glowing, holographic text floated across my vision like a glitched live-stream chat: 【 OMG don’t panic, girl! The male lead is just doing this to make you jealous! He wants to see you fight for him! 】 【 Exactly! He’s just a tsundere. Being mean is his love language. Just cry a little, and he’ll give you the world! 】 【 Snatch that ring back, Queen! Once you show possessiveness, he’ll put it on you willingly! 】 I blinked. I looked up at Asher. His eyes were shining with a twisted kind of expectation. I forced the corners of my mouth up. Ignoring the shocked gasps of the congregation, I grabbed the microphone from the stunned officiant. “Let’s give a round of applause for Mr. Asher Sterling and Ms. Chloe Evans! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness and eternal wedded bliss!” … Asher’s arrogant, triumphant smirk vanished instantly. It was like someone had cut his strings. Both sets of parents looked like they’d swallowed lemons. The Sterlings, in particular, turned a lovely shade of purple. In the high-stakes world of New York old money, there are three major dynasties. If you want to rule the city, you merge. But among the Big Three, only my family, the Shaws, had a daughter. The Sterlings and the Pierces both vied for the alliance. I had chosen the Sterlings. I had chosen Asher. Today was supposed to be a formality. A coronation. No one expected Asher to pull a stunt like this to humiliate me at the finish line. The crowd erupted into whispers. The floating text—the “Feed,” as I called it—exploded: 【 Wait, what? Is the heroine seriously letting the Prince marry the NPC? 】 【 Don’t be impulsive! Are you trying to kill the plot? He loves you to death, he just needs to see you cry! 】 【 This is why he acts out! You’re always so cold. You triggered this! 】 Asher’s face was dark enough to herald a thunderstorm. “Summer Shaw,” he hissed, his voice dripping with menace. “What did you just say? Say it again.” The Feed scrolled frantically: 【 He’s giving you a second chance! 】 【 Apologize! Look at his hands shaking, he’s practically crying from anxiety! 】 I looked away from the hallucinated comments and locked eyes with Asher. I enunciated every syllable. “I said, congratulations to you and Chloe. Happy honeymoon.” Chapter 2 I didn’t wait for his explosion. I turned my attention to Chloe, who was looking at me with a mix of smugness and confusion. “Chloe, honey, aren’t you going to thank Mr. Sterling and his parents for making your dreams come true?” Chloe had always been obsessed with Asher. She was a scholarship student my family had sponsored—a classic charity case who used every opportunity to “accidentally” run into my fiancé. Normally, a girl with zero background cracking the Sterling family trust was impossible. But this? This was a once-in-a-lifetime lottery win. Chloe might see me as a rival, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew Asher was having a manic episode, and she needed to lock this down before he snapped out of it. She clutched the ring tight, tears welling up in her eyes—fake ones, obviously. “Thank you, Asher,” she gushed, voice trembling. “And thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling. I promise to be the best wife the Sterling family has ever seen!” This was not the script Asher had written in his head. With every word Chloe spoke, Asher’s face grew darker. He didn’t even look at her. He was trembling, staring daggers at me. “Summer, stop screwing around!” I laughed. “Wait, I’m the one screwing around?” Asher choked. “I just wanted to…” “Asher!” His mother cut him off sharply. “Today is your wedding to Summer. Stop this nonsense!” Mrs. Sterling was scolding him, but her cold, judgmental eyes were fixed on me. “Summer, you are the future matriarch of this family. Even if Asher acts out, you should handle this privately. Making a scene? Adding fuel to the fire? Is this how the Shaws raise their daughters?” Classic gaslighting. She knew her son was a narcissist, but she expected me to eat the humiliation to save their stock price. She was threatening me. Fix this, or we both go down. Too bad Mrs. Sterling miscalculated. I’ve been sitting in boardrooms since I was twelve. I don’t get played. Chapter 3 “Mrs. Sterling, you’re joking, right?” I put on my best innocent, wide-eyed look. “Asher and I grew up together; we don’t have ‘issues.’ And I’m certainly not fueling anything. I am genuinely happy for Asher and Chloe.” I kept my voice loud enough for the front row to hear. “Since Asher put the ring on Chloe’s finger, she is the bride. She is Mrs. Sterling. If I pretended to be the lady of the house after that, the whole city would laugh at us. They’d say the Sterling family treats marriage like a game of musical chairs!” From her expression, I knew Mrs. Sterling had anticipated Asher’s little test. She had allowed it, probably to “humble” me. The Sterling family had been rising in the market lately. They thought they didn’t need the Shaw capital as much as before. They wanted to knock me down a peg before I even signed the marriage license. If I swallowed this insult today, my life would be hell. I wasn’t going to be their doormat. Mrs. Sterling looked like she wanted to slap me. The Feed started scrolling again: 【 OMG, the male lead is literally turning black with rage. 】 【 Asher: Can’t you just pout? Why do you have to destroy me? 】 【 Summer, stop being stubborn! He loves you! If you push him, he’s going to go full Psycho Mode! 】 “Fine. You think you’re smart, Summer,” Asher ground out through clenched teeth. “If that’s how you want to play it, don’t expect me to save face for you.” “You forced my hand!” Chapter 4 He dropped the ultimatum. “Don’t come crying to me when you realize what you’ve lost!” Crying? I was fighting the urge to pop a bottle of champagne. How confident was this man? Did he think he was God’s gift to women? He turned to his parents, jaw set. “Mom, Dad, I’m not joking! I love Chloe. I truly love her. Please give us your blessing!” He shouted it, but his eyes were glued to me, scanning my face for a crack, a tear, a hint of jealousy. I just stood there, smooth as marble. Internally, I was cackling. Before he opened his mouth, this mess was salvageable. Even if I walked, there were plenty of other heiresses in the room who would marry a Sterling for the merger. But now? He’d publicly declared love for a nobody. He had to marry Chloe, or the Sterling family word would be worth nothing. The Feed was having a meltdown: 【 He’s about to explode! Why doesn’t she get it? 】 【 Summer, don’t get it twisted! He hates Chloe! He regrets it already! He just wants to make you jealous! 】 【 Just beg him! If you beg him, he’ll kick the girl out and marry you right now! 】 I ignored the floating text. I didn’t care. Asher Sterling had crossed the Rubicon. We were done. But apparently, he wasn’t done humiliating me.

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My deskmate handed me a throat lozenge. I turned around and dissolved it into the massive vat of “Good Luck Oatmeal” in the cafeteria, sharing it with all four thousand students in the school. Why? Because I’ve been reborn. In my past life, my deskmate, Gwen, was bound to a “Plunder System.” As long as I ate something she gave me, my test scores would automatically transfer to her. She was a trust-fund baby with her path to the Ivy League already paved with gold. Stealing my SAT scores was just a twisted prank to her. I was the scholarship kid. The charity case. The State Exams were my only rope to climb out of poverty. But in that life, my mock exam scores plummeted one after another, and I couldn’t find the cause. In the end, I failed the exams. Dispirited and broken, I wandered into traffic and was struck by a car. After I died, my spirit hovered in mid-air, forcing me to listen to Gwen laughing with her best friend, Lexi. “I can’t believe Tara actually scored the highest in the state!” Gwen cackled. “Too bad that title belongs to me now! A broke loser like her belongs in the mud, not at a top university.” Now, I’m back. She likes stealing scores for fun? Stealing from just me is too boring. This time, the entire school’s exam scores will be her little “surprise.” 1. The day before the third Mock Exam, I was burning up with a fever from days of over-studying. I was slumped over my desk, dizzy and shivering, when a box of cold medicine appeared in my peripheral vision. “Tara, hurry up and take this. It’ll help,” Gwen said. I froze, looking up to meet Gwen’s eyes. In my past life, it was this exact box of medicine that she traded for my future. Instinctively, I pushed it away. But our classmates immediately swarmed around us. “Gwen is so sweet. She’s beautiful and kind-hearted, looking out for her deskmate like that.” “Seriously. Tara is a scholarship student; she can’t afford a doctor, and she has no one to take care of her. She’s lucky to sit next to an heiress like Gwen who actually cares.” Hearing the praise, Gwen’s smile widened. She tore open the foil packaging. “Come on, take it! My dad brought this back from Europe. It’s a special formula; you can’t even buy it in the States.” I remembered now. It was right before the third Mock Exam that I took her medicine. That was the moment my life derailed. I came from nothing. I relied on financial aid just to attend this prep school. The State Exams were the only way someone from the bottom tier like me could change their destiny. Before senior year, I consistently ranked in the top three. I was a lock for Harvard or Yale. I studied day and night, terrified of slackening for even a second, dreaming of that acceptance letter. But starting with the third Mock Exam, my grades fell off a cliff. The final exam became my eternal nightmare. On the day scores were released, the pathetic number on the screen stabbed me like a poisoned knife. I went crazy requesting a regrade. The results showed that those ridiculous mistakes were indeed written by my own hand. Even more terrifying, the security footage showed that during the math section, I walked out after only thirty minutes! But I clearly remembered answering every single question carefully, checking my work until the last second! The proctors, the students around me—everyone insisted they saw me leave early. My memory and reality had split into two terrifyingly different paths. I wasn’t willing to give up. I appealed again and again. But nothing changed. Eventually, the teachers looked at me with pity, and the police spoke to me with impatience. They started hinting that maybe the pressure was too much, that maybe I was having a “mental break”… It wasn’t until I died that I learned the truth: it was all because of Gwen’s Score Plunder System. Thinking of my stolen scores, my face went cold. I pushed the medicine back toward her. “I already took some meds. If I take yours now, the interactions might make me sicker.” As soon as the words left my mouth, Gwen’s best friend, Lexi, let out a loud scoff. “Wow, Miss Valedictorian. Really? Gwen saw you were sick and pathetic and went out of her way to get you meds, and you think it’s going to stop you from getting into Harvard?” Her sarcasm was thick, and the surrounding students laughed along. “Breaking news: Experts say taking cold medicine prevents you from getting into the Ivy League!” “What is she pretending for? She can’t even afford a clinic visit. Where did she get the money for meds? I think the charity case is just jealous of Gwen and feels inferior.” Gwen didn’t stop them. She just kept that saintly smile plastered on her face, acting magnanimous as she shoved the medicine back into my hand. “Come on, Tara. The Mock Exam is tomorrow. Just take it.” Holding the box, a chill ran down my spine. The big exam wasn’t here yet. I couldn’t tear off her mask now. The enemy was in the dark, and I was in the light. If I exposed her now, who knew what other dirty tricks she’d use before the finals? I clenched my fist, fighting the urge to throw the box in her face. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something red fluttering downstairs in the quad. I turned to look. It was a banner the school had hung to encourage the seniors: “Thousands of Soldiers on the March, One Paper Decides Your Destiny.” A bold idea exploded in my brain. If these “thousands of soldiers”—my classmates—all ate what Gwen provided, would their scores be plundered too? I held the medicine box up. “Thanks, Gwen. But honestly, my throat hurts so bad right now, and I’m nauseous. I physically can’t swallow pills.” “But this is your kindness, and I can’t let it go to waste!” I turned to Chloe, the girl sitting across the aisle, who had been coughing all morning. “Chloe, do you want this? Gwen brought it from Europe. Supposed to be miraculous.” Chloe’s dad was the Dean of Students. She was currently ranked number one in the grade. Her family was full of politicians; she had serious backing. Chloe looked at the packaging and reached out to take it. “NO!” Gwen shrieked. Her voice was so loud it startled everyone in the room. Gwen met my shocked gaze and quickly scrambled for an excuse. “Tara… I think Chloe has allergies! What if she has a reaction?” Chloe leaned in and read the label. “I’m fine. I’m only allergic to penicillin. This doesn’t have any.” Gwen looked panicked. Lexi snatched the box from my hand, furious. “Gwen saved this for you. If you want to be a brat and not eat it, fine, but who are you to give it away?” She was rude enough that Chloe’s face darkened. She turned around and ignored us. But I had the answer I needed. Whatever Gwen gave out had to be consumed by the target for the theft to work. If that was the case, I was going to play a bigger game. What was the fun in just my score? Giving her the entire school’s GPA seemed like a much better gift for someone who loved surprises. I made a move to take the medicine back, but Gwen was now terrified I’d share it again. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a lozenge. “Tara, if you’re worried about drug interactions, don’t take the pills. Here, I have a throat lozenge. Eat this.” The crowd swooned at her thoughtfulness. “Gwen is too nice. She’s so prepared for her deskmate.” “Tara must have saved a country in her past life to get a deskmate like Gwen.” Gwen laughed, playing the part. “I just thought, being sick must be uncomfortable, and we can’t let it affect her test state.” “Tara is the pride of our class. Of course I have to be prepared.” I looked at her fake smile and remembered the conversation I heard as a ghost. Lexi had been envying her title as the State Top Scorer. Gwen had laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “I’m going abroad anyway. I don’t actually care about the grades. The title just sounds nice. It’s useless to me.” “I just wanted to toy with that broke loser. She always acts so studious and superior. It annoyed me!” “Now look at her. Let’s see how she pretends now! Trash should stay in the dumpster.” I almost laughed out loud. She did all this just to toy with me? This time, I didn’t refuse. I took the lozenge and shoved it into my pocket. Gwen frowned, clearly unhappy. “Tara, doesn’t your throat hurt? Why aren’t you eating it?” I yawned. “I’m a little sleepy. I want to nap first. I’ll eat it later.” Gwen got anxious. A single candy was small; if it stayed in my pocket, she’d never know if I actually consumed it. “Your voice is raspy. You should eat it now.” “Plus, you have a cold. You need the sugar, or you might pass out.” She furrowed her brows, acting so concerned. The classmates bought it hook, line, and sinker. Whispers drifted from the back row. “It’s just a candy. Is it going to kill her?” “She’s just got an ugly heart. She can’t accept kindness.” “Someone is nice to her and she acts stuck up. For a charity case, she sure is ungrateful.” The words pricked like needles. giving me a piece of candy counts as kindness? I’m supposed to wag my tail and eat it with tears of gratitude? Does the gap between a trust fund kid and a scholarship kid justify this blind moral kidnapping? My fingertips trembled, but I kept my face calm. Lexi played the bad cop. “You won’t take the meds, you won’t eat the candy. Do you just hate Gwen? Are you bullying her?” Her aggressive tone turned the whole class against me. After weighing my options, I pulled the candy out, unwrapped it, and popped it into my mouth. A cooling sensation spread through my mouth. The peppermint stung my tongue. Gwen’s smile turned radiant. “See? Isn’t that better?” I forced the corners of my mouth up. “Thanks. My throat does feel a lot better!” Watching me swallow, Gwen finally walked away satisfied. I pretended to sleep, burying my head in my arms. Carefully, I touched my pocket. Inside was the actual lozenge Gwen gave me. I had bought a pack of cheap, strong throat lozenges earlier to help with my cold. Luckily, the school store only sold this one brand. The packaging was identical. I had swapped them using a sleight of hand I’d seen in movies. During a bathroom break, I hid the special lozenge in a secure spot before returning to the classroom. As I walked in, I saw Gwen sitting at my desk. My empty tin of lozenges—the ones I had bought myself—was sitting on the table. My heart skipped a beat. Lexi looked up, saw me at the back door, and immediately signaled Gwen.

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