1 My name is Willa Thorne. I’m twenty-two, a graduate of a top-tier university. I also suffer from a severe allergy to stupidity. I have zero desire to interact with people. For this reason, I have proudly embraced the life of a professional moocher, living off my parents. My mother, Vivian Shaw, a permanent fixture on the Forbes Rich List, has finally reached her breaking point with me. She kicked me onto the set of a corporate reality TV show, claiming it would give me some real-world experience and cure me of my “attitude problem.” So there I stood, in flip-flops, in front of the office building designated by the show. A girl in a white bubble dress was blocking the entrance turnstile, having the time of her life. Behind her, a sea of employees on the verge of being late fumed in silence. I tried to politely inform her that she was in the way. Her response was to scream at me. “So what if I’m in the way?” She planted her hands on her hips. “My dad owns this entire company, Aura Corp! I can play wherever I want!” Wait. What? My dad has an illegitimate daughter? I immediately fired off a text to the Queen of my household. “Your Majesty, I think Dad has an illegitimate daughter. Prepare for battle.” … She would tap her ID badge. The turnstile would beep and swing open. She wouldn’t go through. She’d wait for it to close, then tap her badge again. Beep. Open. Still not go through. She repeated this cycle, endlessly, lost in her own little world. Behind her, a dark crowd of employees watched their window for clocking in on time shrink to nothing. Every face was painted with the silent, soul-crushing despair of the almost-late. My allergy-to-stupidity radar began to scream, and my blood pressure skyrocketed. I took a deep breath, silently chanted world peace three times, and walked over to tap her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, miss? Could you please go through? Everyone’s going to be late.” The girl spun around and gave me a disdainful once-over. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? Do you have any idea who I am?” Her shrill voice grated against my eardrums. I clenched my fists, resisting the primal urge to shove her designer handbag into her mouth. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re blocking the way.” “So what if I’m in the way?” she shot back, hands on her hips. “My dad owns this entire company, Aura Corp! I can play wherever I want!” I froze. My dad’s company? How was I unaware that my completely whipped father had secretly produced another daughter? A daughter who appeared to have been born with an underdeveloped cerebellum and a completely smooth brain? Was my mother, the Queen, about to be usurped? Was my own title as Crown Princess in jeopardy? As my mind reeled, a girl with glasses, who looked like another intern, gently tugged on my sleeve. “Just leave it,” she whispered. “Don’t mess with her. That’s Mimi Monroe. Her dad is Mr. Thorne, the show’s biggest sponsor. He literally funded this entire season just to make her famous.” Mr. Thorne’s only daughter? Then what was I? A freebie that came with a phone plan? Just then, a sharp, impeccably dressed woman in a business suit hurried over, her face plastered with a sycophantic smile. “Miss Monroe, what are you doing out here? Mr. Thorne is waiting for you in his office.” Seeing her ally arrive, Mimi’s arrogance swelled. She pointed a finger at me and whined to the woman, “Ms. Hayes, this person was bullying me! She told me to stop playing!” The woman, Ms. Hayes, immediately turned on me, her expression hardening. Her eyes scanned me critically. “Which department are you with? What’s your name? Harassing Miss Monroe on your first day of work? Are you trying to get fired before you even start?” I glanced at the ID badge on her chest: Ms. Hayes, Executive Secretary to the Chairman. My dad’s secretary. A woman who had worked for my family for five years, who had watched me grow up, was now looking at me as if I were a complete stranger. Interesting. Very interesting. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I made it as pleasant as I could. “My name is Willa Thorne. I’m an intern with the show. I wasn’t harassing her. I was simply suggesting she follow basic public etiquette.” Ms. Hayes’s face soured, clearly not expecting me to talk back. Mimi, however, puffed up with self-importance. “Etiquette? I am the etiquette! Ms. Hayes, get her out of here! Fire her!” “Well…” Ms. Hayes hesitated, glancing nervously at the surrounding cameras. “Miss Monroe, this is being broadcast live. It wouldn’t look very good. Why don’t we head inside first?” As clueless as Mimi was, she seemed to understand the implications of a live feed. She shot me a venomous glare and finally, flanked by Ms. Hayes, sailed haughtily through the turnstile. The human dam broke, and the crowd of employees surged forward. The girl with the glasses gave me a sympathetic look. “You’re in for it now. You just made an enemy of the princess and her top courtier, Ms. Hayes.” I shrugged, unconcerned. In for it? The show was just getting started. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my mother, Vivian Shaw. “Mom, I think I’ve stumbled upon some major family drama. Your marital status and my inheritance are at stake.” Vivian replied instantly. “Explain, or your allowance is halved this month.” I gave her the short version of the Mimi Monroe situation. The other end was silent for a full minute. Then, a single line of text appeared: “Hold your position. Continue observation. Report any new developments. And remember, you are the legitimate heir. Act like it.” Reading the words “legitimate heir,” I smiled. Alright then. Let’s see what kind of demon dares to challenge my mother’s reign. 2 Once inside, the show’s director gave us interns a quick briefing and assigned our roles. I was sent to the marketing department. Mimi, of course, was sent nowhere. She was to remain in the chairman’s office with her “daddy.” My mentor was a kind woman who showed me around. As we passed the chairman’s office, I saw Mimi with her legs crossed, ordering Ms. Hayes to peel an apple for her. And Ms. Hayes, my father’s most competent and trusted secretary, was acting like a doting nanny, peeling the fruit with painstaking care, not a hint of impatience on her face. I scoffed internally. Just then, a handsome guy in a crisp white shirt, tall and well-built, walked by with a stack of files. Mimi’s eyes lit up like a wolf spotting a lamb. “Hey! You, handsome! Stop right there!” The man stopped and politely adjusted his glasses. “Miss Monroe. Can I help you with something?” “What’s your name? Which department? Do you have a girlfriend?” Mimi fired off the questions, practically drooling. A muscle in the man’s jaw twitched, but he maintained a professional smile. “My name is Leo. I’m in the tech department. I’m sorry, but I’d rather not discuss my personal life.” Leo? I almost burst out laughing. That was my cousin, my mother’s nephew, the “undercover agent” Vivian had planted in my dad’s company specifically to make sure he wasn’t fooling around. I never thought this little mouse would run right into my trap. Mimi was clearly not satisfied. She stood up, sashayed over to Leo, and reached out a hand with long, bright white nails, aiming for his chest. “Not discuss it? What’s there not to discuss with me? My father is Marcus Thorne. The fact that I’m interested in you is the best thing that’s ever happened to you!” Leo’s expression soured. He took a quick step back, dodging her wandering hand, his brow furrowed in annoyance. Everyone in the open-plan office was now staring. The looks on their faces ranged from amusement to contempt, but no one dared to say a word. I couldn’t watch anymore. Harassing my family was a line you didn’t cross. I walked over, grabbed Leo’s arm, and pulled him behind me, facing Mimi with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Miss Monroe, workplace sexual harassment is illegal.” Seeing me meddling again, Mimi’s face twisted in rage. “Willa! Are you doing this on purpose? Do you have a death wish? I’ll have my dad fire you right now, you see if I don’t!” “I’m sure you will,” I said with an earnest nod. “After all, your dad owns the whole company. But before you have me fired, I’d suggest you look up the relevant laws. Because if you don’t, it won’t be about me getting fired. It’ll be about the police coming to have a little chat with you.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for everyone to hear. Ms. Hayes’s face turned a shade of gray. She rushed over and grabbed the sputtering Mimi. “Miss Monroe, don’t lower yourself to her level. Let’s go back to the office. This is creating a scene.” As she spoke, she shot me a look that was pure poison. Mimi let herself be dragged back into the office. The drama was over. Leo let out a breath of relief and gave me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Wills.” “No problem,” I said, patting his shoulder. “Do me a favor and send me the security footage of you being harassed just now.” “Huh? What for?” he asked, confused. “Evidence,” I said with a mysterious wink. “It’ll be very useful later.” Leo caught on immediately and gave me an “OK” sign. I returned to my desk. The girl with the glasses sidled over, her eyes shining with admiration. “Willa, you’re so brave! You’re the first person I’ve ever seen stand up to Mimi Monroe!” I just smiled. That wasn’t standing up to her. That was just the appetizer. I opened the company intranet and started searching for any information on “Mimi Monroe” and her mother. Strangely, there was nothing. It was as if they had materialized out of thin air. So I switched tactics and started researching my father, Marcus Thorne, and his activities over the past three years. Three years ago, after a bad investment led to a huge fight with my mother, he staged a mid-life rebellion and stormed out, vowing to prove himself on his own. My mother, furious, froze all his credit cards and cut off his connections, leaving him with nothing but this one half-dead company, Aura Corp, to play with. To his credit, he had actually managed to turn the company around in those three years. But I never imagined that as his business grew, so would his audacity. I couldn’t believe he’d actually been keeping a mistress stashed away, and had a daughter this old with her. 3 The next day, an unexpected person showed up at the office. Chloe, my childhood best friend, strode into the marketing department in four-inch heels. Her new title: Sales Director. My jaw almost hit the floor. In the conference room, she was methodically leading a department meeting, her logic impeccable, her presence commanding. She was a completely different person from the girl I knew, the one who would get drunk and cry on my shoulder. After the meeting, I dragged her into the breakroom. “What are you doing here? Did Aunt Vivian send you?” Chloe shot me an exasperated look as she pulled a lipstick from her purse to touch up her makeup. “What do you mean, ‘did Aunt Vivian send me?’ You think I’m like you, a professional moocher? I got this job on my own merit, thank you very much. Aura Corp pays well, so of course I applied.” I looked at the lipstick in her hand. It was a new limited-edition shade from a luxury brand, a bold, fierce color that perfectly matched her queenly vibe. “Nice lipstick,” I said sincerely. “Of course it is. I had to fight tooth and nail to get my hands on it,” Chloe said with a proud flick of her wrist. As we were chatting, a discordant voice cut in. “Hey. That lipstick. I want it.” I turned around. It was Mimi again. She had snuck up behind us, her eyes glued to the lipstick in Chloe’s hand, her expression pure greed. Chloe frowned and put the lipstick back in her bag. “Sorry, this is my personal property. It’s not for sale.” “I don’t care if it’s for sale! I saw it, so it’s mine!” Mimi said, and then she actually tried to snatch Chloe’s purse. That was the last straw. Bully me? I can tolerate it. Bully my best friend? Not a chance in hell. I grabbed Mimi’s wrist, my grip so tight she cried out in pain. “Mimi, I’m warning you. Show some respect.” My voice was ice. “Willa! You’re protecting someone else again! What is wrong with you?!” Mimi shrieked, losing it. “I think you’re the one with a problem,” I said, shoving her hand away and pulling Chloe behind me. “If you like something, buy it yourself. What kind of person steals from others? Oh, right, I forgot. You probably don’t even recognize the brand.” My words hit their mark. The one thing she couldn’t stand was having her cheap origins exposed. Her face flushed red and white, and she just stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. A crowd of curious colleagues had started to gather, whispering and pointing at her. Humiliated, Mimi suddenly lunged forward like a feral animal. Her target wasn’t me, but Chloe’s bag. Chloe, caught off guard, stumbled back. The bag fell to the floor, and the lipstick rolled out. Mimi’s eyes lit up. She snatched the lipstick, then looked at us with a triumphant smirk. In front of everyone, with a loud click, she twisted the lipstick tube until the entire bullet of color was exposed. Then she viciously smeared a thick red line across the back of her hand before tossing the ruined lipstick on the floor like a piece of trash. “If I can’t have it, no one can!” she snarled. The breakroom fell silent. Chloe’s eyes immediately filled with tears. It wasn’t just a lipstick. It was a gift she had bought for herself, a reward for her hard work. The fire in my chest exploded, roaring up to the top of my skull. I walked toward Mimi, step by step. As she watched me, her eyes widening in fear, I raised my hand and, without hesitation, slapped her across the face. The crack was clean and loud. For a moment, the entire world went quiet. “That,” I said, my voice dangerously low as I looked at her reddening cheek, “was to teach you some manners. Apologize.” Mimi was stunned. She clutched her face, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you hit me?” “So what if I did?” I took another step forward, my presence overwhelming. “Apologize! Apologize to my friend!” Our colleagues were speechless. The cameras faithfully recorded every second. Mimi, recovering from the shock, collapsed to the floor and started wailing. “Aaaah! She hit me! Willa hit me! I’m going to have my dad fire her! I’m going to have her thrown in jail!” Just then, Ms. Hayes and several security guards rushed in. “What’s going on?” Ms. Hayes’s face paled when she saw the red handprint on Mimi’s cheek. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Willa! How dare you! You assaulted someone on company property! Security, seize her!” The guards exchanged hesitant looks. Chloe immediately stepped in front of me and spoke to Ms. Hayes, her voice calm and steady. “Ms. Hayes, this incident began when Miss Monroe attempted to steal and then destroyed my personal property. Willa was acting to protect me. There are security cameras here, as well as numerous witnesses.” Ms. Hayes’s expression flickered. She hadn’t expected this new director to be so formidable. Mimi continued her performance, clinging to Ms. Hayes’s arm and sobbing. “Auntie Hayes, she hit me! Look at my face! Call my mom! Tell her to come here and stand up for me!” Auntie Hayes? I watched the whole scene with cold detachment. Fine. The little one can’t win, so she calls in the big one. Let’s see what kind of show this mother-daughter duo can put on. 4 Less than ten minutes later, a woman in a Chanel suit, flanked by an entourage, stormed into the office. It was the woman from the photos, Melanie Monroe. She rushed straight to Mimi, her face twisting in pain as she saw the red mark on her daughter’s cheek. “My precious baby! Who did this to you? Who would dare!” Mimi pointed a tear-stained finger at me. “Mom, it was her! This witch, Willa! She’s jealous of me, so she hit me!” Melanie’s head snapped towards me, her sharp eyes like poisoned daggers. “You’re the one who hit my daughter?” she hissed, striding over to look down her nose at me. I had to admit, the woman had a certain presence. It was a shame she was using it for this. I met her gaze without flinching. “I am,” I said calmly. “Because she tried to steal my friend’s property, destroyed it, and has absolutely no manners.” “What a sharp-tongued little brat!” Melanie laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “Manners? Who do you think you are to talk to my daughter about manners? Let me tell you, this isn’t over! I’m going to make you kneel and apologize to my daughter, and then you’re going to get the hell out of Aura Corp!” I almost laughed out loud. “Make me kneel and apologize? On what authority?” “On what authority?” Melanie sneered. She pulled a small red booklet from her Hermès bag and slammed it on the table. “On the authority of this! I am Marcus Thorne’s legal wife, the chairman’s wife of Aura Corp! And I am telling an employee of my company to get lost. You tell me on what authority!” The sight of the glaringly red marriage certificate made everyone in the room gasp. So the rumors were true! Mr. Thorne really had gotten remarried! The looks from my colleagues instantly shifted from sympathy to schadenfreude. This intern had offended the future chairman’s wife and his precious daughter. She was finished. Ms. Hayes stepped forward at the perfect moment, her face a mask of disappointment. “Willa, how could you be so thoughtless? Apologize to Mrs. Thorne and Miss Monroe at once.” I watched their little performance and nearly laughed myself sick. Legal wife? My mother and Marcus Thorne had never finalized their divorce. How could he possibly have another legal wife? Bigamy was a criminal offense. I took out my phone, aimed the camera at the marriage certificate, and hit record. “Mrs. Monroe, is it? Since you claim this is a marriage certificate, would you dare let me film it? I can post it online, let the public be the judge, and see exactly how a married man ‘legally’ married you.” The color drained from Melanie’s face. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so bold, or to know that Marcus was still married. Her eyes darted around nervously, but she tried to maintain her composure. “What nonsense are you talking about! Marcus and that washed-up old wife of his have been over for years! A divorce is just a matter of time! We’re the ones who are truly in love!” “Truly in love?” I scoffed. “So in love that you need a fake marriage certificate to prove it? Mrs. Monroe, forging official government documents is a crime just as serious as bigamy.” “You… you’re slandering me! Who says it’s fake?” Melanie blustered, her bravado failing her. “We can find out if it’s fake easily enough. A quick check with the county records office will clear it up,” I said, pressing my advantage. “Or, we could just call Marcus Thorne over here right now and ask him ourselves.” “Fine! Call him! Who’s afraid!” Just then, a deep, magnetic, but slightly panicked male voice sounded from the doorway. “What is all this shouting! What is the meaning of this!” My deadbeat dad, Marcus Thorne, who had been gone for three years, had finally made his grand entrance.

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1 My husband, Damien Hawthorne, the wealthiest man in New York, was drugged. He slept with a college student. The moment he came to his senses, he called me. His voice was a raw, panicked rasp. “Elara, I was drugged. I made a mistake. But I paid her off. She won’t be a problem.” After eight years of a storybook marriage, I chose to believe it was just a terrible accident. Six months later, Damien was on a business trip to the southern coast when a massive earthquake hit. The news was everywhere. By the time I reached the hospital, Damien was standing outside a private room, his face a mask of conflict. The doctor explained that the young woman, Chloe, was three months pregnant. She had dug him out of the rubble with her bare hands, her fingers torn to bloody ribbons. Damien gripped my hand, his voice a low, pleading whisper. “Three months ago… her family died, and she came to me for help. I’d been drinking… I never thought it would just… happen.” He squeezed my hand tighter. “Don’t worry, she’ll never set foot in our home. She’ll never, ever threaten your place as my wife.” Just then, Chloe burst out of the room and collapsed to her knees before me, sobbing. “Mrs. Hawthorne, please, I’m begging you, let my baby live!” Damien looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Elara, you’ve always been the reasonable one. The baby is innocent…” I stared at him, and a slow, cold smile spread across my face. “Damien, you have two choices.” “Either we divorce.” “Or you make her disappear.” “I won’t divorce you!” he cried, his eyes turning red as he grabbed my arms. “But I have to take responsibility for her!” In the end, Chloe gave birth to twins. The Hawthorne estate was drowned in celebration. I twisted the wedding band from my ring finger and dialed a number I’d hoped never to use. “That offer you made,” I said. “I accept.” A low chuckle answered from the other end of the line. “Mrs. Hawthorne. A pleasure doing business with you.” I stood at the door to the hospital room, my fingers clenched into a fist. Through the crack in the door, I could see Damien’s parents, each cradling an infant, their faces glowing with joy. Even Damien, a man who wore a mask of cool composure in public, was gazing down at the baby in his arms with a tenderness I had never seen before, a gentle, doting smile playing on his lips. How ironic. They looked like a perfect, happy family. And I was the intruder. Damien looked up and saw me. His smile froze. “Elara, you’re back…” I said nothing. His mother shot me a sideways glance, her voice as sharp and cold as ice. “So, you finally decided to come back? Had enough of your little soul-searching retreat in the mountains?” “It’s good that you’re back,” his father said, playing peacemaker, though his eyes never left the grandchild in his arms. “Just in time for the one-month celebration. As Mrs. Hawthorne, you should at least make an appearance.” His mother’s expression softened slightly. “The children still need proper names. You and Damien should think of some. And don’t you worry, as long as you play your part, your position as the lady of the Hawthorne family is secure.” I looked at them, my face a numb mask, and nodded. “Fine.” Once his parents had left, Damien’s phone rang. He glanced at me, then stepped into the hallway to take the call. Now, it was just me and Chloe. Her cheeks were flushed with a healthy glow, her hair shining with a luster that spoke of expensive care. The Hawthornes had clearly spared no expense on her these past months. “Elara,” she began, her voice a timid whisper. “If I’ve done anything wrong, you can hit me, you can scream at me… just please, don’t fight with Damien anymore. You know you’re the only one he loves. He had your rooms cleaned every single day you were gone.” “Chloe,” I said, my gaze cutting through her charade. “You can drop the act. The money he gave you the first time was enough to set you up for life. You could have taken it and disappeared. But you came back, didn’t you? You sought him out. And now you have these children.” “I know exactly what you’re playing at,” I finished. Her face flushed, then paled. Suddenly, she snatched one of the infants from the bassinet and thrust the baby into my arms. The warm, milky scent of the tiny bundle made me freeze. But in the next heartbeat, the baby slipped from my grasp. A sickening thud echoed through the room, followed by a piercing, heartbreaking wail. The sound shattered the quiet. Damien burst back into the room and shoved me aside. I stumbled back, watching as he scooped up the crying infant, his face etched with pain and terror. He looked at me, his eyes a swirling vortex of emotions. He didn’t say a word, but his silence screamed his condemnation. Chloe was already sobbing beside him. “Damien, I just wanted her to hold the baby… I don’t know how she could…” 2 Damien’s voice was frigid. “Elara, Chloe is being discharged tomorrow. Since you clearly can’t be around the children, I think it’s best if you move to Blackwood Manor for a while.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I’d left for the mountain sanctuary with almost nothing, and I was returning with even less. One suitcase held everything I owned. I sat in the vast, empty manor, watching the sky bleed from dusk to dawn. It was better this way, I told myself. At least I wouldn’t have to watch their perfect little family of four. Memories flooded back, a relentless tide. Damien and I were childhood sweethearts. Eight years of marriage, the golden couple everyone in our circle envied. Then he was drugged by a business rival and ended up with a college student. The first thing he did when he was sober was call me, his voice trembling. “Elara, I was set up! I paid her hush money. You’ll never see her again!” And I believed him. But it wasn’t long before this woman, Chloe, reappeared. Her parents had died in a sudden accident, and she’d found Damien—drunk at a business dinner. A second time. The first time was an accident. What was the second? Then came the earthquake during his trip to the southern coast. It was a pregnant Chloe who had clawed him out of the wreckage with her bare hands. With the weight of a life debt and the child in her belly, Damien was trapped. He had knelt before me, tears streaming down his face, and I had given him my terms. “Either we divorce.” “Or you make her disappear.” “I won’t divorce you!” he’d cried, his eyes bloodshot. “But I have to take responsibility for her…” He wouldn’t let me go, but he wouldn’t let her go either. So I left. I went to a sanctuary in the mountains to find peace, until Damien’s parents demanded I return for the birth of the children. I pulled out my phone, the screen a stark white light in the darkness, and typed the message I should have sent months ago. “Let’s get a divorce.” Less than ten minutes later, the front door crashed open. Damien burst in, his forehead beaded with sweat. “Elara! I don’t agree to a divorce!” I sat there on the sofa, a silent shadow in the cavernous room, and sighed. “It’s over, Damien. I’m tired.” “I told you she would never affect us!” he pleaded, his voice shaking with desperation. Just then, his phone shrieked. Chloe’s tear-choked voice came through the speaker. “Damien! The baby… from the fall… she has a fever! The doctor says she might need to go to the ICU!” The color drained from Damien’s face. He looked from me to the phone, his expression torn. Finally, he spoke, the words tasting like ash. “Elara, I… I have to go check on them…” I watched his frantic retreat, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. So this was my marriage. Even our divorce had to wait in line behind another woman and her children. 3 A wry smile twisted my lips. “Go on, then. Your child needs you.” He was gone in a rush, the wind from his hurried exit caressing my cheek as if he’d never been there at all. I sat alone in the darkness, silent tears tracing cold paths down my face. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that he might never marry Chloe, but he would always be at her beck and call. How long could I endure this, if I didn’t leave? A lifetime? A familiar, sharp pain twisted in my stomach. I opened my phone. On Chloe’s social media, a new post showed Damien, haggard and unshaven, keeping a sleepless vigil by an incubator. I had never seen that look of raw terror on his face before. I had my lawyer draw up the divorce papers and went to the office to tender my resignation. The HR manager looked shocked. “Mrs. Hawthorne, does Mr. Hawthorne know you’re leaving?” I offered a faint smile. “He’s a little preoccupied right now.” I saw the pity flicker in her eyes. I knew what she was thinking. I returned to Blackwood Manor, the sprawling estate we had used as a getaway a few times after we were married. While packing, my fingers brushed against a yellowed piece of notepaper tucked away in a drawer. “My dearest Elara,” it read in his familiar script. “I wonder when you’ll find this. By then, we’ll probably have a few kids running around. I love you so much. No matter what happens, promise you’ll never leave me.” A tear splattered onto the ink. A violent cramp seized my stomach, and the world went black as I crumpled to the floor. I woke to the shrill ringing of my phone. “Elara Vance! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Damien’s roar blasted through the speaker. He rarely used my full name. “Chloe is already treading on eggshells around you! How many times do I have to tell you she’s not a threat to your position? Why would you send those vicious text messages? Why would you curse my children?!” I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. He didn’t even bother to ask if I’d done it. He had already passed judgment. “Are you finished?” I asked, my voice eerily calm. He paused, thrown off. “The celebration for the babies is next Sunday. You have to be there. Please, just stop with the tantrums, okay?” “Fine.” I hung up and stared out at the encroaching night. On the day of the party, I arrived without a trace of makeup. Sympathetic glances followed me through the room. At the center of it all stood Chloe, draped in a stunning red dress, clinging to Damien’s arm like she was the true lady of the house. His mother gestured impatiently. “Go on, hold one of the babies.” Damien placed one of the infants in my arms, his voice a low murmur meant only for me. “Elara, I’ll overlook the text messages. After today, I’ll send Chloe abroad. The children will be registered under your name. Since you can’t have children… isn’t this the perfect solution for everyone?” His words were a physical blow. The avalanche… years ago, I’d shielded him with my body, the impact damaging my uterus beyond repair. He had fought with his parents for me then, swearing he’d be happy with just me, childless or not. Now, everything had changed. Suddenly, the baby in my arms gave a violent cough, a white foam bubbling at its lips. “What’s wrong with the baby?!” someone screamed. 4 Chloe lunged at me, her voice a piercing shriek. “Mrs. Hawthorne! If you want to kill someone, kill me! Don’t hurt the baby!” CRACK! The force of his father’s slap sent me reeling. My head snapped back, and I stumbled to the ground, a fiery sting spreading across my cheek, the coppery taste of blood flooding my mouth. Damien instinctively reached out to steady me. At that moment, the baby in his other arm let out a choked cry and vomited a mouthful of blood. The room erupted into chaos. “Damien!” Chloe’s hysterical scream sliced through the pandemonium as she threw herself between us. “The baby’s dying! Please, save our child!” Damien’s hand, the one reaching for me, trembled in mid-air. I watched the concern in his eyes for me fade, replaced by sheer terror for his child. He slowly retracted his hand and turned his full attention to the sputtering infant. The hospital corridor was cold enough to seep into my bones. I stood there like a ghost, the divorce papers I’d brought slipping from my pocket and fluttering to the polished floor. His mother’s sharp eyes caught the movement. She snatched the papers and threw them back at me with disgust. Her perfectly manicured face was twisted with contempt. “Have we ever mistreated you? Huh? Damien defied us for you, and we tolerated it! And now you try to harm a child?” “Since you’re so desperate for a divorce, then get it over with! Stop clinging to this family!” I silently bent down and picked up the scattered pages. Damien emerged from the ICU, his eyes red-rimmed. “The baby’s stable.” He looked at me then, and his gaze was that of a complete stranger. “Elara, this time, you’ve gone too far.” My hand trembled as I held out the divorce papers. “Let’s… end this.” His pupils contracted. “Are you sure?” “I’m tired,” I whispered, fighting back the tears. “I don’t know what else I might do…” “Fine! Just fine!” He snatched the papers, scrawled his name across the signature line with vicious force, and threw the pen to the floor. “As you wish!” Returning to what was once our home, our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, rushed to greet me. “Ma’am! What happened…” She trailed off, her eyes fixed on my swollen face and rain-soaked clothes. I scanned the room. My grand piano was gone. Our wedding portrait was missing from the wall. Even the cherished trinkets I’d collected over the years had vanished. Mrs. Gable wrung her hands, stammering, “Miss Chloe… she kept bumping into things during her pregnancy, so Mr. Hawthorne had them…” The door opened. Damien walked in, with Chloe on his arm. Chloe feigned surprise. “Ma’am, what are you doing here?” She said it as if she were the mistress of the house. “Where are my things?” My voice shook as I looked at Damien. He let out a cold laugh, pulling Chloe closer. “You’re the one who wanted a divorce. Why do you care?” Chloe reached for my hand with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Ma’am, it was Damien. He was just worried I might hurt myself while I was pregnant…” “Don’t touch me!” I snarled, flinging her hand away. She let out a little cry and stumbled backward. Damien caught her instantly, his voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?” I stared at the two of them, a perfect picture of intimacy, and turned on my heel. I heard him call my name, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t let them see the tears streaming down my face. Outside, the heavens had opened up, a torrential downpour soaking me to the skin. I don’t know how long I walked before a group of thugs cornered me in a dark, grimy alley. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mrs. Hawthorne,” one of them, a man with a jagged scar across his face, sneered as he advanced. “Someone paid us good money to teach you a lesson. The tycoon’s wife… sure is a looker. A little flat, maybe, but that face is porcelain.” My fingers fumbled for my phone. I dialed Damien’s number. His voice came through, soft and soothing, not for me. “Chloe, your head hurts? Just try to sleep, darling.” “Damien! Help…” “I don’t want to talk to you right now.” The line went dead. I tried again. His phone was off. Icy rain mingled with the hot tears on my cheeks, the taste a bitter salt. “No one’s coming to save you here, sweetheart. Why don’t you relax and have some fun with us?” Their grimy hands reached for my collar, rough fingers scraping against my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, my nails digging into my palms.

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On my wedding day, my enemy Silas Blackwood hung my fiancé Joey’s head from the cathedral spire. As blood dripped down the cross, Silas approached and whispered that a traitor never deserved me. The guests fled, but I smiled. Three years ago, Joey had sworn to protect me after my family took him in. But last week, I learned he was betraying me with my cousin Maya and leaking company secrets. I’d planned to expose him today—but Silas acted first. We married right there in the bloodshed. He treated me like a queen, until my birthday, when I found his secret house filled with photos of him and Maya. That night, he asked what I wanted. I looked straight at him and said, “I want you to kill Maya for me.” 1 The moment the words “kill Maya” left my lips, the smile on Silas Blackwood’s face froze. “Seraphina, don’t be ridiculous.” He stepped forward to take my hand, but I snatched it away the instant his fingers brushed my wrist. “Ridiculous?” A bitter smile twisted my lips. I pulled a stack of printed photographs from my purse and threw them at his feet. In the pictures, Maya was lounging in his study’s leather armchair, wearing his favorite silk nightgown. “Silas, look closely,” I hissed. “Does this look ridiculous to you?” He bent to pick them up, his movements suddenly hesitant. “She must have snuck in and taken those when I wasn’t home. I only found out today, I swear…” “Oh?” I cut him off, unlocking my phone and shoving the screen in his face. It displayed the address of a secluded villa on the outskirts of the city. “And what about this? The security code is my birthday, yet the walls inside are covered with her pictures. Her clothes are in the closets. Are you going to tell me she picked the lock and moved herself in?” The color finally drained from his face. He lunged for my phone. I took a step back, my back hitting the cold wall. “Silas, you’ve always been so good at playing the devoted husband, haven’t you?” I opened up the social media app. The top trending topic was already exploding. #SilasBlackwoodSecretVilla #TheRealMrsBlackwoodMaya, followed by a bright red “VIRAL” tag. Beneath it was the nine-photo grid I had posted that afternoon. The caption was simple: “Happy birthday to me.” “Look. The whole world knows now. Your perfect, loving husband act? It’s shattered. There’s not even dust left.” He ripped the phone from my hand, his fingers flying as he dialed his PR team. His voice was laced with a panic I had never heard before. “Kill the story! Now! Delete every single photo! If anyone posts it again, I’ll make sure they never work in this city again!” He hung up and turned to me, his eyes a maelstrom of conflict. “Seraphina, there’s nothing between me and Maya. The photos are a misunderstanding, you have to believe me…” “A misunderstanding?” I laughed, but the sound was choked by a sudden surge of tears. “Three years ago, when Joey betrayed me, you killed him for me. I thought you were the one person who would never betray me. But you? You played me for a fool! Tell me, Silas, can’t you bring yourself to kill her?” “Is it because she’s my cousin? Or is it because… you’ve fallen in love with her?” He opened his mouth, but no defense came. Seeing him stand there, utterly speechless, the last flicker of warmth in my heart went cold. All these years, everything he had done was a lie. The devotion, the passion… it was all a performance. 2 That night, I locked myself in the guest room. Sleep wouldn’t come. My mind was a whirlwind of the past. Three years ago, before the Preston family’s ruin. Joey Preston was known as the darling of Veridia City. He brought me breakfast every morning. He would brew me ginger tea when I had my period, holding my hands and whispering, “Seraphina, the day I graduate, I’m going to make you my wife.” Back then, Silas Blackwood was the monster no one dared to cross. He was the Blackwood family’s illegitimate son, raised abroad, a dark secret. When he returned, he carried an air of brutal intensity. I first met him at a Preston family gala. He beat a trust-fund brat who was harassing me half to death, then strode over to me, looking down his nose at me. “Seraphina Meng,” he’d said, his voice laced with contempt. “Joey Preston can’t protect you. You’d be better off with me.” I despised him then. I saw him as a brute who solved every problem with his fists. Until the Prestons fell. Joey’s father was investigated for embezzlement, and their empire collapsed overnight. Looking back, the “evidence” was almost laughably obvious. The signature on the ledger was a clumsy scrawl, nothing like the elder Mr. Preston’s elegant script. But I was blinded by grief and chaos, desperate to salvage what little was left of their family. I never stopped to question the convenient timing or the glaring inconsistencies. It never occurred to me that Joey’s family had been framed. And that was when Silas started circling me, relentlessly, telling me to forget Joey, to marry him instead. But I was devoted to Joey. Watching him fall from grace into ruin broke my heart. I begged my grandfather to have the Sterling family step in, to offer him a lifeline. He knelt before me, his forehead pressed to the toe of my shoe, his voice thick with emotion. “Seraphina, thank you. I’ll never forget this. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.” And I believed him. I never imagined that he would immediately turn around and fall into bed with my cousin, Maya. I was overseas for a business deal when I discovered their affair. It was a video. Joey was holding Maya, their faces close, about to kiss. “Once I get the Sterling data,” Joey was saying, “I’ll ditch that fool Seraphina. Then we can finally be together, out in the open.” Maya smiled and kissed him. “Don’t go soft on me, Joey,” she purred. “That bitch should have been dead years ago.” In that moment, I was consumed by a tidal wave of betrayal and rage. I booked the first flight back, planning to confront him at the altar. If it was true, I would kill him with my own hands. But Silas beat me to it. He hung Joey’s head from the cathedral spire. Then he came to me, his voice as gentle as if he were soothing a child. “Seraphina, a traitor like that doesn’t deserve you.” I thought then that he and I were the same. We were both monsters. We both had no tolerance for betrayal. Now, I see how catastrophically wrong I was. Joey’s affair had driven me mad with rage, and I had blindly accepted the “evidence” Silas and others had fed me. Only now do I realize it. The affair, the evidence, the seduction… It was all a meticulously crafted trap, set by Silas and Maya. Thinking back, Silas’s intentions were never pure. He didn’t want me; he wanted the Sterling family’s resources and influence. And Maya… she had been jealous of me her whole life. She always whined about how unfair it was that I was born the Sterling heiress, that everyone seemed to love me so effortlessly. Seducing Joey wasn’t just about hurting me. It was about using him to get her hands on Sterling Corp’s core data. To help Silas seize control of my family’s empire even faster. They were in it together from the start. A perfectly orchestrated performance, slowly devouring the foundations of the Sterling legacy. He took personal control of our most important projects. He replaced the heads of our core departments with his own people. Even my personal assistant became his spy. I was a figurehead, a puppet queen in my own kingdom, about to lose any real power I had left. The more I thought about it, the more the hatred burned. Hatred for my own stupidity, for being deceived by his charade for so long. But there was no turning back. Maya and Silas… they would pay for what they had done. 3 The next morning, I checked my phone. The trending topic had been pushed down, but the story was still spreading like wildfire. #SilasBlackwoodPRDisaster #MayaTheMistress #SeraphinaTheScornedWife. The headlines dominated the top twenty. The comment sections were a warzone. Some called me a bitter, scorned wife, posting pictures for sympathy. Others called Maya a conniving snake who had been with Silas all along. Someone even dug up the story about Joey Preston from three years ago, claiming the Blackwoods were nothing but a crime family who treated human life as disposable. Silas’s PR team issued a statement. They claimed the photos were doctored, that the villa was a business investment, and that Maya was simply helping manage the property. They even produced so-called “evidence.” A purchase contract for the villa, and a work contract for Maya. But the public wasn’t buying it. Someone unearthed security footage of Maya coming and going from the villa at all hours. Another noticed that the jewelry Maya was wearing in her own social media posts was identical to a set Silas had gifted me. The most laughable part? Maya posted on her own account. A picture of herself with red, tear-swollen eyes. The caption read: “Silas and I are just friends. Seraphina, why would you spread such vicious lies? I know you’re still upset about Joey, but you can’t take it out on me.” That post poured gasoline on the fire. The comments turned on me. I was petty. I was cruel. Poor, innocent Maya. I stared at the screen, a mixture of fury and derisive laughter bubbling in my chest. She had perfected the art of playing the victim. Just then, the door opened. Silas came in. His eyes were shot with red; he clearly hadn’t slept. “Seraphina, stop this. The PR team is handling it. If this continues, it will damage the Blackwood family’s reputation.” He came to my side, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Stop this?” I looked up at him. “Am I the one who started this, Silas? You and Maya betrayed me first! Now she’s playing the victim to win public sympathy, and you’re not only failing to defend me, you’re blaming me for making a scene?” “That’s not what I meant,” he sighed. “Maya is still your cousin. Blowing this up doesn’t do anyone any good.” “No good for who?” I sneered. “It’s good for you. It’s good for Maya. It’s only me who gets hurt! Silas, have you forgotten? I am your wife!” He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled a black credit card from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of me. “Seraphina, don’t be angry. Take this. Buy whatever you want. Or if you want to go abroad for a while to clear your head, I’ll arrange it immediately.” I looked at the card, the irony a bitter taste in my mouth. Did he really think he could buy my silence? My forgiveness? “Silas, I don’t want your money. I want Maya dead.” I pushed the card back toward him, my gaze unwavering. “If you can’t bring yourself to do it, then stay out of my way.” His face hardened. “Seraphina, don’t push me.” “You’re the one pushing me.” I stood and walked to the door. “From this day forward, I’m done with you and Maya. But don’t you dare try to interfere with me.” With that, I slammed the door and left. As I walked out of the villa, I saw Maya’s car parked at the gate.

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On the day of my wedding to Adrian MacRae, a screen suddenly materialized before my eyes: [MC, you can’t marry Adrian MacRae! This wedding is a complete sham!] [You’re actually the long-lost heiress to the Stone Corporation! The heirlooms your mother left you are the proof, and Adrian is only marrying you to steal them!] [He’s going to have his childhood sweetheart impersonate you to claim your inheritance. Then he’ll marry her, and together they’ll murder your father and take over the Stone Corporation!] [As for you, he’ll have your face slashed, then sell you off to an old man deep in the mountains. You’ll give birth to one disabled child after another until you’re finally beaten to death.] My eyes widened as the comments, like a live stream chat, flashed before me. I was torn between disbelief and a creeping dread. From outside the dressing room, I could hear the murmur of guests. “Did you hear? Conrad Stone, the billionaire, is here today to meet his long-lost daughter! Let’s go see!” I stood up, wanting to see for myself, but Adrian suddenly appeared, blocking my path. His expression was dark. “Seraphina,” he said, his voice cold. “The ceremony is about to start. Where do you think you’re going?” 1 Staring at the man I loved, I couldn’t bring myself to believe what the screen was telling me. And yet, a seed of caution had been planted. I decided to test him, my voice hesitant. “Adrian, darling… those earrings my mother left me, you’re keeping them safe, right? I was hoping to wear them for the ceremony. Could I have them back?” The earrings were a gift from my missing father to my mother. Before she died, she gave them to me, calling them my inheritance. A month ago, when Adrian proposed, I told him their story. He said they were too precious and offered to keep them safe for me. I’d agreed without a second thought. But now, as I asked for them, a chill entered his eyes. “They’re too valuable to carry around,” he said dismissively. “There are plenty of other earrings here, Seraphina. Just pick another pair.” His refusal sent a stone sinking in my stomach. I chose my words carefully. “But my mother made me promise on her deathbed that I would wear them on my wedding day. Adrian, could you please just ask your assistant to get them?” His expression turned to ice. “The wedding is starting any minute now, Seraphina. Can you please not cause trouble at a time like this?” he snapped. “Besides, didn’t you say you had something for me? What is it?” My heart clenched. I was sweating, my hand gripping the small ring box in my purse. Besides the earrings, my mother had also left me a ring. I had planned to give it to him before the ceremony, which was why I’d asked him to come here. The comments flared to life again. [Don’t do it, MC! Don’t you dare give him the ring!] [If he gets all the proof, you’ll never be able to reclaim your place at the Stone family!] “I… I just missed you,” I stammered, forcing a smile. “I wanted to see you.” But the man who had always been so patient and gentle now looked at me with an ill-concealed disgust. “I’m extremely busy today. Don’t waste my time with such trivial matters.” He turned to leave. “Adrian!” I called out, one last desperate test. “I heard there’s a family reunion happening in the hotel today. Could you come with me to see what’s going on?” His voice dropped several degrees, any trace of warmth gone. “What does someone else’s family drama have to do with you? Today is our wedding day!” He sneered. “Besides, have you forgotten your place? You think you can just wander into the world of the rich and powerful? If you go gawking and offend someone important, don’t expect me to save you!” My heart turned to stone. Adrian came from nothing. He was a ruthless overachiever, clawing his way up to a general manager position at a young age. Everyone praised him as a prodigy who had reached the pinnacle of success in his twenties. But I knew better. I knew he was nowhere near the “pinnacle” he dreamed of. At every meeting, every banquet, I’d seen him watching the true titans of industry, his eyes burning with the hunger of a wolf, fantasizing about the day he could tear them down and take their throne. His ambition was a bloodthirsty, predatory thing. Looking at him now, I believed the warnings on the screen a little more. Using his lover to infiltrate the Stone family, then using her to devour the corporation… yes, he was more than capable of it. 2 “You’re right, I won’t go…” I managed a weak, submissive smile. Seeing my compliance, he gave a satisfied nod and walked out. I watched him leave, a sense of dizzying disorientation washing over me. Adrian grew up in the slums, an orphan from a young age. My mother took pity on him, raising him alongside me. He was always my protector, the first to defend me from bullies at school. He still had a faint scar by his eye from a fight he’d gotten into for me. On my eighteenth birthday, he’d held me tight, promising to go out and make his fortune. “Seraphina, you wait for me,” he’d whispered. “When I’ve built something for myself, I’ll come back and marry you. I’ll give you a life of luxury.” I never imagined that in just ten years, that earnest boy would become this monster. I opened the box in my hand, my expression complex as I looked at the ring inside. [OMG, she’s looking at the ring! Did she figure out his plan?] [Go find Conrad Stone! Hurry, before it’s too late!] [Please don’t tell me she’s still caught in his web. He’s been sleeping with Chloe forever! They even have a kid together!] I stared at the flashing text, my eyes stinging. With me, Adrian had always been a perfect gentleman. Even in our most intimate moments, he would pull back, his voice strained. “Seraphina… you… you shouldn’t… stay away from me.” I would tease him. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle it?” He would glare, pretending to be annoyed. “I want to wait for our wedding night.” The memory brought tears to my eyes. He swore he wouldn’t touch me, yet he was sleeping with Chloe. They had a child! All these years I spent by his side… what a joke. No. I would not be a lamb to the slaughter. I tore off the wedding dress. There weren’t many options in the dressing room. I threw on a random assortment of clothes and ran towards the private room where the Stone reunion was taking place. [Wait, is she ditching the wedding? Has our lovesick MC finally woken up?] [YES! Look, she’s heading right for the Stone Corporation president’s room! She’s going to change her fate!] I crept up to the private room, only to find Adrian and a woman I assumed was Chloe already inside. Chloe was sobbing, a perfect picture of tragic beauty. “Mr. Stone, I really am your daughter,” she wept. “This DNA report proves it.” “Twenty years ago, my mother met you while you were doing business overseas. But after you parted ways at the port, she never heard from you again. She had to raise me all on her own.” “When she died, I cried until I thought I’d go blind. All these years, I’ve been waiting for any news of you.” “Don’t you remember any of it?” Conrad Stone looked at her pitiful form, his stern expression softening. “This report… it does show that you are my child.” A flicker of triumph crossed Adrian’s face. He pulled a pair of earrings from his pocket. “Not only that, Mr. Stone, but Chloe’s mother also left her these.” The moment Conrad Stone saw the earrings, his eyes lit up with raw emotion. “These… These are the ones I gave to Eleonora!” He snatched the earrings from Adrian’s hand, examining them closely. “Yes! It’s them! I put them on her myself!” Tears welled in his eyes as he was lost in memory. “Eleonora, my Eleonora! If I had known that would be the last time I saw you…” Seeing his emotional state, Adrian and Chloe exchanged a subtle glance. “Mr. Stone, surely this confirms that Chloe is your daughter?” Conrad wiped his eyes. “These are indeed Eleonora’s.” “However, there is one more thing I need to confirm.” He spoke slowly. “As I recall, I also left them a ring.” 3 Chloe flinched, shooting a desperate look at Adrian. The entire “backstory,” the heirlooms—it had all been fed to her by him. She had memorized every detail for this performance. But this was the first she’d ever heard of a ring. “What’s wrong?” Conrad Stone was a veteran of the business world, and his instincts were sharp. He immediately grew suspicious. “If you are truly my daughter, you would have the ring. What are you afraid of?” Sensing his doubt, Adrian jumped in. “Mr. Stone, Chloe simply doesn’t have it with her!” “We’ll go and get it right now!” Conrad nodded. “Very well. I will wait for you here.” As Adrian and Chloe turned to leave, I ducked out of sight. “Adrian, what do we do now?” Chloe whispered, her hand clutching his. Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Damn it, why didn’t she tell me there was a ring?” “We’re so close. It seems we have no choice. We’ll have to go back and steal it from her.” [That DNA report is a fake! The scumbag used the MC’s blood sample! These two are shameless.] [What are you waiting for, MC?! Go in there and claim your father! If you don’t take this chance, you’re going to be sold off and abused for the rest of your life!] I remembered the horrifying future the screen had shown me, and a cold shiver ran down my spine. No. I had to change my destiny. Mustering all my courage, I threw open the door, rushed toward Conrad Stone, and shouted: “Mr. Stone, I’m the one! I’m your long-lost daughter!” 4 My shout brought Adrian and Chloe, who had just stepped out, rushing back in. The moment Adrian saw me, a murderous look flashed in his eyes. Before I could reach my father, he grabbed me, his arms like iron bands around me. “Seraphina Hayes, your usual antics are one thing, but how dare you cause a scene in front of Mr. Stone!” While violently dragging me out, he turned to Conrad with a deeply apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stone. This is a well-known local eccentric. She’s always dreaming of marrying rich.” “She must have been eavesdropping and decided to cause trouble.” His hand was clamped over my mouth, my face obscured. I could only make muffled, desperate sounds. He secretly kicked me. “Get lost, now! Before you scare Mr. Stone.” “She’s… crazy?” Conrad looked at me doubtfully, his eyes scanning my mismatched, thrown-on clothes. He seemed to believe it. “If she’s disturbed, then get her out of here.” I watched in horror as I was dragged away. In a panic, I bit down on his hand. Hard. “Argh!” He yelped in pain, his grip loosening for a second. I scrambled free and ran back towards Conrad. “I’m not crazy! I’m your daughter!” “Look at my face! My mother’s name was Eleonora Vance, she was—mmph!” Gritting his teeth, Adrian tackled me again, wrestling me to the floor. “Mr. Stone, don’t believe a word she says! She heard all of that while listening at the door.” “She’s genuinely insane, just ask the hotel staff!” Conrad’s gaze shifted to a nearby waiter. I looked at the waiter, my eyes pleading for help. “It’s true, Mr. Stone,” the waiter said smoothly. “I often see this woman digging through the trash cans outside the hotel. Seems she’s been unhinged for a while. You can tell just by looking at her clothes.” I stared at him in disbelief, then saw the triumphant look in Adrian’s eyes. [Are you kidding me, MC?! He’s bribed all of them!] A cold dread enveloped me. Was there truly no hope? In my despair, another comment flashed before my eyes. [Show him the ring!] Seeing it, I took a deep, shuddering breath. Even with Adrian’s arms wrapped around my waist, trying to drag me away, I shouted with all my might. “Mr. Stone, I’m not crazy! I am your daughter, and this ring is my proof!”

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My college graduation and my father’s wedding fell on the same day. He’d even booked the university quad for the wedding, wanting everyone to be there to celebrate with us. That morning, I posted a photo of my father and me online, my arm hooked through his, a brand-new Chanel bag on my shoulder. His fiancée mistook me for his sugar baby. She stormed my graduation ceremony with her wedding security in tow. “You know why I set the wedding here?” she shrieked, her voice venomous. “So I could rip you to shreds in front of everyone!” “Barely out of your teens and you’re already a professional gold digger. You must have a death wish! If I don’t ruin your life today, then I’ve wasted the last five years of my life!” The senior art projects set up for display at the ceremony were smashed to rubble. In front of everyone, my stepmother-to-be tore my graduation gown to pieces and threw a bottle of acid on me. The camera of her phone, still live-streaming, zoomed in on my dissolving flesh. Just before I blacked out, my dad arrived with the police. 1 After two years studying abroad, I’d timed my flight home perfectly, landing just in time for my graduation ceremony—and my father’s wedding. It had been ten years since Mom passed away. I’d lost count of how many times I’d urged Dad to move on from his grief. Now, he’d finally found someone he loved. I was genuinely happy for him, and as his daughter, I couldn’t miss his big day. After landing, I rushed straight to my dorm to change into my cap and gown. I was hoping for a quick nap before the ceremony, but the moment I opened my phone, I saw that my stepmother-to-be, Sophia, was live on social media. I figured she was sharing her wedding prep with her followers, but when I clicked on the stream, that wasn’t what I saw at all. Her bridal makeup was flawless, but her eyes were red-rimmed and brimming with tears. “Thank you all for your support,” she sobbed into the camera. “I just never thought a college girl these days could be so powerful… even forcing my fiancé to hold our wedding at her beck and call!” I watched as the comments in the chat went off the rails, shifting from congratulatory messages to calls for violence against a “homewrecker.” There has to be a misunderstanding, I thought. I knew my dad. In the ten years since Mom died, he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman, aside from his colleagues. I typed out a comment urging everyone to calm down, but it was instantly buried under an avalanche of insults. Sophia’s shoulders shook with heart-wrenching sobs. “Today is my wedding day,” she cried, “and she sends me a picture of them together, all lovey-dovey, telling me she’s the only one my husband truly loves. That where we get married, if we get married, is all up to her. She said this wedding is just something she didn’t want, a little scrap my fiancé is throwing to me. I tried to stand up for myself, and then she…” She choked on her words, pausing for dramatic effect. “Then she threatened to cancel my wedding and make me the laughingstock of the entire city!” The audience in the live stream was so stunned they forgot to type. After a moment, the comments section exploded with rage. “These college girls are all the same! I see them on TikTok doing their little dances. They might as well just pin a price tag on their videos!” “Stay strong, Sophia! You’re way better than some clueless little girl!” “How can they let a homewrecker like that graduate? She’s going to destroy so many families. Someone needs to nip this in the bud, now!” “My brother goes to that university, and he says it’s a total mess! Especially the rich kids who study abroad, God only knows how messed up their lives are!” “Don’t be scared, Sophia, we’ve got your back! Go teach her a lesson today!” I quickly backed out of the stream and sent her a private message, but it was like sending it into a void. No reply. I’d been abroad for two years; I’d never even met her. Everything I knew about Sophia came from the occasional phone call with Dad. But the gentle, quiet woman he described was impossible to reconcile with the hysterical person I’d just seen on screen. The viewer count was climbing by the second. I had to call my dad. “Dad, is everything okay with you and… Sophia? There must be some kind of misunderstanding. You wouldn’t cheat on her, would you? You need to go talk to her and explain!” “Lily, what are you talking about? Am I that kind of person?” “It doesn’t matter what kind of person you are, it matters what people think you are! She’s live-streaming to thousands of people about catching you with another woman, don’t you get it? What have you been doing? Did the company hire any new college interns recently? Dad, it took you ten years to find someone, you have to take this seriously! You’re killing me!” I was about to give him a crash course on how to de-escalate things with a woman, but a furious pounding started at my dorm room door. I had to hang up. The second I opened the door a crack, a massive force sent me flying backward onto the floor. A group of men in security uniforms barged into my room, hoisting me into the air, my feet dangling uselessly above the ground. My glasses were knocked off, and the world dissolved into a blur. My sense of security vanished with them. I stared, wide-eyed, at the woman in the wedding dress standing before me. The phone’s camera was shoved right in my face. Sophia’s voice was sharp as glass. “Take a good look, everyone. This is the little college tramp who’s been sleeping with my fiancé! She doesn’t even look like a good person! Look at that rainbow-colored hair. I guess college really taught you a thing or two!” “What kind of parents raise trash like you?! Today, I’m going to teach you the lesson they never did!” 2 Staring at her face, I couldn’t believe this was how we were meeting for the first time. I tried to explain, but I’d barely managed to utter a single syllable before her palm cracked across my cheek. Stars exploded behind my eyes as my head snapped to the side. Before I could even process the blow, another one came from the opposite direction. The sharp, throbbing pain in my face robbed me of the ability to think. Her friends and family, who had followed her in, pointed at me, their voices a cacophony of rage. “You could have learned anything, and you chose to be a cheap whore, seducing a married man! You think we’re just going to let that slide?” “And you’re wearing a cap and gown? You don’t deserve it! You should be covered in chicken feathers! That would suit you better!” The commotion drew my neighbors out of their rooms. In seconds, a crowd had formed, blocking the doorway to my dorm. It took me a moment to catch my breath. Rage burned in my chest, tight and suffocating. I glared at Sophia, my teeth clenched. “Sophia, I think you’ve made a terrible mistake. I am not the homewrecker you think I am. And you have no right to talk about college students that way. Show some respect!” This was the woman my dad had spent ten years choosing. I had wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, to let this slide and sort it out quietly. But my words were met with a sneer. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the luggage I’d brought back from my trip. “If you’re not the other woman, who is? Let me guess, that suitcase is filled with all the luxury gifts my fiancé bought for you, right? You’ve really cashed in these last four years, haven’t you? Are you going to deny you posted that picture online?” She shoved her phone in my face, showing me the post I’d made that morning. It was the photo of me in my new Chanel bag, arm in arm with my father. The caption read: [No matter what happens, we’ll always be the most important person in each other’s lives.] In that instant, it all clicked. I was the source of her entire paranoid fantasy. The fury in my chest evaporated, replaced by sheer disbelief. “You’ve got it all wrong!” I said, my voice desperate. “I’m not his mistress! Didn’t my dad ever tell you he had a daughter in college?!” Sophia looked me up and down, a cold, mocking glint in her eyes. “You? Don’t make me laugh. My fiancé’s daughter has been studying abroad. Who the hell do you think you are, trying to impersonate her? You’re just a cheap whore pretending to be a student. You don’t deserve to be here.” She jabbed her finger into my chest, her nail digging into the fabric of my gown. “You know he’s old enough to be your father!” she screamed. “And you still did something so shameless!” I couldn’t believe it. The surprise I’d planned—returning from my two years abroad for their wedding—had twisted into this nightmare. My patience was wearing thin. “If you don’t believe me, just ask my dad!” I pleaded. “Our house is filled with my photos. Have you never seen them?” For a split second, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “What photos? Stop making things up! The apartment I live in doesn’t have a single picture! My fiancé told me his daughter hates having her picture taken!” Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Of course. Dad had never taken her to our family home. Sweat beaded on my forehead. I was trapped, with no way to prove who I was. After Mom died, Dad had changed my last name to hers, so now even our names didn’t match. Sophia saw the panic in my eyes, and a triumphant smirk spread across her face. “Nothing to say now, huh? You little bitch! You’re about to learn what happens when you cross me!” At her command, the security guards swarmed my room, smashing everything in sight. Sophia turned back to her live stream, aiming the camera at the wreckage. Someone in the comments must have pointed out they were destroying school property, because she suddenly announced, “Oh, thank you for the reminder, everyone! I almost forgot about this little tramp’s luggage!” Ignoring my screams, she ripped open my suitcase, its contents spilling onto the floor. She took a pair of scissors to my designer clothes, reducing them to scraps. The strap of my Hermès bag was torn off, my collection of rare, limited-edition perfumes shattered against the wall. The cloying scent of a thousand flowers filled the air, and her eyes turned bloodshot with rage. 3 Outside my door, my classmates had their phones out, recording the whole thing, their gasps and whispers filling the hallway. The videos spread like wildfire across the campus forums. My dorm had become the epicenter of a vicious scandal. As I watched my belongings become a pile of ruin at her feet, I bit down so hard I could feel the veins bulge in my neck. But destroying my things wasn’t enough for her. She ordered the guards to drag me out. My disheveled figure was captured by her phone, the camera zooming in for a close-up of my terrified face. Privacy was the last thing on my mind. My horrified screams echoed down the corridor. “What are you doing?! Where are you taking me?!” She held her phone with one hand, the other planted firmly on her hip. “What am I doing?” she said, her voice dripping with ice. “You claim to be a college student, right? Well, I’m going to give you a graduation ceremony you’ll never forget! And a little warning for all the other sluts like you! Think twice before you go after another woman’s man!” As they dragged me through the women’s dorm, other students stared, their eyes wide. Sophia’s gaze swept over them, growing colder by the second. “Is this a university or a brothel?” she sneered. “Your skirts are shorter than my underwear! It’s disgusting. What kind of trashy school is this? Just wait until I expose your filthy behavior to the school board. We’ll see if they change the dress code then!” I’d used up all my strength struggling in my room. Now, hearing her vile, cutting words, I had no energy left to fight back. The graduation ceremony was already underway, with students and faculty filling the seats. Sophia and her guards dragged me straight onto the main stage. One of the guards let go, and I collapsed in a heap on the platform. She pointed at my crumpled form, snatched the microphone from the podium, and roared, “This is the ‘fine student’ your university produces! A homewrecker who preys on engaged men! Where are the leaders of this school? Get them out here! I demand an explanation, now!” With that, she grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked, the pain so intense it felt like my scalp was tearing. My face twisted in agony. She had the guards point the live-feed camera at me, and my contorted features were instantly broadcast on the massive screen behind the stage. “Take a good look!” Sophia bellowed into the microphone. “This is the price you pay for destroying someone’s relationship!” “I’m going to teach all of you so-called ‘college students’ a lesson today, so you finally learn your place!” “You think a few years of school makes you special? You don’t even know how to be a decent human being! What right do you have to graduate? None of you deserve it!” The students in the audience stared in horrified silence. The university administrators, alerted to the chaos, rushed to the scene. The dean, his face pale and slick with sweat, tried to intervene, but Sophia completely ignored him. I lay on the stage for what felt like an eternity before I could muster the strength to push myself up. I stood, trembling, and met her crazed gaze with a cold stare of my own. “You do this,” I said through gritted teeth, “and you’re willing to ruin your own wedding?” She laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “This university’s reputation is already ruined because of you! And you think you can threaten me?” She turned back to her live-stream audience, her tone sickly sweet. “Did you hear that, everyone? These college girls are something else, aren’t they? I wonder what they really teach them here! This is exactly how she threatened to cancel my wedding before. And this is just what you’re seeing in public. You should have heard how arrogant she was when she contacted me privately!” “Don’t you think she deserves to be taught a lesson?” 4 At her signal, two security guards lunged, pinning me to the stage floor. Another produced a bottle and began to slowly pour a clear liquid over my graduation gown. A sizzling sound filled the air, and the fabric began to smoke. The hair on my arms stood on end. My own innocence no longer mattered; all I could think of was survival. “Wait!” I begged, my voice cracking. “I admit it! I admit I seduced your fiancé, okay? Just make them stop! Please, stop pouring!” A cold, cruel smile played on Sophia’s lips. She watched, enjoying the show. “Scared already? I thought you college girls were supposed to be tough. It’s just a little acid. Can’t handle that? Then you have no business seducing other women’s men! I’m going to make sure you remember this lesson for the rest of your life!” “You worthless thing, raised with no mother to guide you! I’ll teach you the lesson she never did!” My pleas had only made it worse. The guard tilted the bottle further, the acid flowing faster. Hearing her insult my mother, my hands clenched into fists. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll call the police?” I snarled. “Everyone here is a witness!” Her eyes scanned the crowd. Not a single person dared to move. Sophia let out a wild, triumphant laugh and slapped me hard across the face. As she moved, the hem of her wedding dress brushed against the liquid on the floor and instantly turned black. “Who do you think you are?” she screamed, her face inches from mine. “How dare you threaten me?! I’m the one marrying into the Crawford family!” She whirled on the guard holding the bottle, who was now trembling. “Didn’t you eat today?! Get out of the way!” She snatched the bottle from his hand and emptied the remaining contents all over me. When it was empty, she shook it violently, a look of pure hatred on her face. The guards holding me down scrambled back, terrified of being splashed. An agony I had never known erupted across my skin. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming, writhing on the stage in sheer torment. The louder I screamed, the more frenzied Sophia became. She hiked up her wedding dress and ran towards me. Grabbing my hair with both hands, she dragged me to the edge of the stage, forcing me to face the audience. A piece of my scalp tore away, and the pain brought hot tears streaming from my eyes. My ruined skin and the melted fabric of my gown were fused together; the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain through me. Sophia’s eyes were bloodshot. “Are you ever going to be a homewrecker again?” she shrieked. “Answer me! You worthless bitch! Today, you learn who you’re dealing with!” “If you ever send my fiancé another message, I will tear your face apart!” Just then, the campus security my dean had called finally arrived, clashing with the guards Sophia had brought. A full-blown brawl erupted on stage. The senior art projects that had been set up for display were trampled, destroyed in the crossfire. The pain was becoming unbearable. My vision started to blur at the edges. But Sophia wasn’t finished. She held me up by my hair, pointing her phone’s camera at the raw, bloody wounds on my body. The gruesome images flashed across her live stream. The viewers went wild. Likes poured in. She gained a million followers in a minute. Suddenly, my phone, which had fallen from my pocket, began to ring. She snatched it up, glanced at the screen, and then hurled it at my face. The impact broke my nose, and blood gushed down my chin. The pain was so intense I felt numb. Sophia’s voice was a raw, uncontrolled shriek. “You dare to keep calling him, you bitch! I’ll destroy your face so you have nothing left to seduce him with!” I never save numbers in my phone. The call from my dad, displayed only as a string of digits, was the final straw that shattered her sanity. The phone rang until it went to voicemail. I didn’t have the strength to even think about answering it. Sophia threw herself on top of me. She’d forgotten all about the live stream. Her hands were like steel clamps on my head, and she tried to force my face into the pool of corrosive acid still shimmering on the floor. I used every last ounce of strength I had to resist. My face turned red, my lungs screaming for air. We were locked in a stalemate, but her strength was beginning to fail. Enraged, she started pummeling my head with both fists. The diamond on her engagement ring tore deep scratches across my cheeks. I was done. I had nothing left. My consciousness began to fade into a dark, swirling fog. She took a deep breath, preparing for one final shove to push my face into the acid. In that last second, a commotion erupted from the back of the auditorium. A voice, frantic and familiar, cut through the chaos. “Lily! Lily! Dad’s here!”

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1 My parents’ adopted daughter led three teenagers to their deaths on a mountain. And my parents framed me for it. My father forced me to kneel before the victims’ families and shattered my leg with a trekking pole, bone by bone. “These are the legs she used to lead your children into danger,” he declared. “I’ll make sure she never climbs again!” My mother officially disowned me. “Patty is destined to break world records,” she said, her voice like ice. “She can’t have a disgrace like you for a sister. She’s sacrificed so much for you over the years. It’s time you paid her back.” Even my childhood sweetheart, Ethan, made me a promise. “Patty has nothing. If she had to take the blame for this, she’d fall apart. But you have me. No matter what happens, I’ll wait for you.” “Those families just want someone to blame,” he’d whispered. “They won’t let you go to prison. Once their anger cools, you can come home.” But to protect their precious Patty’s reputation from the slightest blemish, he joined my parents in fabricating evidence, and together, they sent me to prison. They lied to my face, telling me it was for my own protection, to keep me safe from retaliation. They had no idea I had already given up on them. … The fluorescent lights of the bus station were blinding. I stood at the empty gate, then began the long, slow walk back to the house that was no longer a home. On a massive screen in the city square, a news report played on a loop: Patty, breaking a world climbing record. In the video, my parents and Ethan stood in the crowd below, their faces ecstatic, cheering for her. It seemed they had completely forgotten that today was the day I was released. I walked for nearly three hours before I saw Ethan’s car screech to a halt beside me. He must have remembered at the last minute. He saw the unevenness in my gait and rushed over, grabbing my arm. “Clara, what happened to your leg? Did someone hurt you in there?” I met his concerned gaze and felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. “Weren’t you the one who, along with my parents, was so worried about Patty’s reputation that you sent me to prison before my leg had even healed?” Because my injury was never properly treated, I would never be able to climb again. Ethan’s eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. “We were just worried the victims’ families would come after you,” he mumbled. “That’s why we did it. And even if… even if there’s a problem with your leg, I won’t ever hold it against you. It’ll be my turn to take care of you.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. I pulled open the car door, but stopped when I saw Patty sitting in the passenger seat. “What is she doing here?” Ethan quickly shut the door. “Our friends are throwing a party to celebrate Patty’s record. It… it might be a little awkward if you came.” “Awkward?” I snapped. “The murderer gets to go, but the one who was framed can’t? How is that not awkward?” My words made him panic. He glanced nervously at Patty in the car, relieved when he saw she hadn’t heard. He turned back to me, his expression hardening with disapproval. “Patty is still severely traumatized by what happened. Are you trying to push her over the edge by saying things like that?” “Just get a cab home,” he said, his tone dismissive. “I’ve already wasted enough time looking for you. I have to get Patty to her party.” With that, he got in the car and drove off, apparently forgetting that a person just released from prison doesn’t have a single penny to their name. It took another hour to walk home. By the time I arrived, a sharp, stabbing pain was shooting up my leg. I reached the front door and heard the sound of cheerful chatter from inside. “Yes, Patty is so accomplished. It’s a good thing we adopted her. I don’t know what we’d do without her.” “Don’t even mention Clara. We haven’t had a single good night’s sleep since she killed those kids. Patty was heartbroken, you know. She kept saying she wanted to take the blame for her sister.” I knocked on the door. My mother opened it. The smile on her face vanished the moment she saw me. “Why are you back now? Go wait outside. We have guests. Don’t you dare embarrass us!” Her words were merciless. As the door swung shut, I heard her explain to the relatives inside, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just someone collecting for charity.” Later that night, when I was finally allowed in, my father greeted me with a slap that sent me sprawling to the floor. “You knew today was a big day for Patty, and you still came back to ruin it! Would it have killed you to stay in there one more day? Because of you, we’ve become a laughingstock!” My mother shot me a look of pure disgust, quickly snatching Patty’s trophy off the mantelpiece as if my very presence might tarnish it. “She definitely chose today on purpose. Patty has such a tragic past, and still, she bullies her. Why didn’t they lock her up for longer?” 2 I had been hearing things like this ever since my parents adopted Patty. I was used to it. I looked at them coldly. “Have you told these lies so often you’ve started to believe them yourselves? Don’t forget, the person who got those kids killed was Patty.” As the words left my mouth, there was a thud from behind me. My parents rushed to Patty’s side, who had dramatically collapsed. “Don’t listen to her, Patty,” my mother cooed. “What happened back then was just an accident. It had nothing to do with you.” “Besides,” my father added, glaring at me, “if Clara had just told you how dangerous climbing was, you never would have taken those kids. I think she wanted something to happen to you. It’s not the first time she’s tried to hurt you, is it?” “Now get over here and apologize to your sister!” Ethan looked at me with disappointment. “Clara, that was way out of line,” he said coldly. As he walked towards me, Patty grabbed his hand, her eyes welling with tears. “Mom, Dad, Ethan, don’t blame her,” she whispered pitifully. “She probably just got out and saw my success, and it made her feel… inadequate. But I really did earn this on my own. It had nothing to do with the things you left behind.” “If it makes you feel better,” she cried, “I don’t need this trophy! I can leave this house, so I’m not a bother to you anymore.” With a dramatic flourish, she snatched the trophy from my mother’s hands and smashed it on the floor before running out of the house. “Patty!” Ethan shoved me aside and ran after her. I stumbled and fell onto the shattered remains of the trophy. Shards of glass dug into my flesh, and I gasped from the sharp pain. I had barely struggled to my feet when my father kicked the back of my leg. I collapsed again, my knees landing directly on the broken glass. An agony I could barely endure shot through me. Blood quickly stained the floor, but my parents acted as if they couldn’t see it. Without a shred of concern, my mother threw a tube of superglue at my feet. “You can get up when you’ve glued that trophy back together. Otherwise, consider yourself no longer our daughter!” Her words didn’t even faze me. From the moment Patty entered our home, their hearts had belonged entirely to her. After Patty’s biological parents were arrested for their crimes, she was sent to an orphanage. She was smart and sweet-tongued, and my parents, who were patrons of the orphanage, decided to adopt her the first time they met. At first, I felt sorry for her. But on her second night with us, she deliberately cut my hand with a knife and then poured superglue into the wound. When my parents rushed in, she was the first to cry, throwing herself into their arms. “I’m so sorry, Mommy, Daddy! I just saw Clara’s hand was hurt, and I wanted to help her. It’s all my fault! She has every right to be angry with me. Please, don’t blame her!” The wound on my hand burned like fire. I tried to explain what had really happened, but they didn’t believe me. They decided I must have been trying to hurt Patty and injured myself by accident. From that day on, no matter what happened between us, it was always my fault. They even blamed me for the time their brakes failed while they were on a trip with Patty, convinced I had sabotaged the car. I painfully pulled myself up from the floor, intending to clean my wounds. As I passed my parents’ room, I overheard them talking. “That trophy is smashed to pieces. Making her glue it is pointless. We’re letting her off too easy.” “The trophy is just an excuse. I don’t want her interrupting Patty and Ethan. You don’t actually want to see Ethan marry that girl, do you?” “Of course not. I wish she’d rot in there forever. She only makes Patty miserable when she’s around.” 3 The last fragile piece of my heart shattered. I went back to my old room, now occupied by Patty, and began gathering my things. As I was packing, a video on her phone caught my eye. It was an old recording of me on a difficult climb, years ago. She had posted it on her own social media account. In the video, I was bundled up against the cold, my face completely covered. No one would recognize me. The comments section was flooded with praise for Patty. “Wow, Patty was tackling mountains this dangerous years ago! No wonder she’s my favorite!” “It’s a shame someone so amazing has a sister like that. She was so jealous of Patty’s talent that she secretly took three teenagers on an illegal climb and got them killed.” “She killed three people out of sheer selfishness? How can she even live with herself?” Soon, my personal information was leaked online. The internet exploded with hate. But amidst the bile, there were a few voices of reason. “Could this be a misunderstanding? I seem to remember some climbers saying they saw Patty leading the three teens that day.” “I know Clara. She’s a professional. She never climbs with others, let alone with inexperienced minors.” Just as these two comments started gaining traction, two familiar accounts posted lengthy replies beneath them. “I am Patty and Clara’s father. I can confirm that it was Clara who took those three children climbing. She did it to frame Patty, never imagining the consequences would be so dire. As her father, I am filled with regret. If I had known she would turn out like this, I wish she had never been born.” “I am Patty’s mother. The only reason Clara knows anything about climbing is from stealing and studying Patty’s notes and guides. It’s been like this her whole life. Anything Patty wants, she has to steal!” … Reading my parents’ words, twisting the truth and heaping filth onto my name to protect Patty, left me numb. But what truly broke me was Ethan. After being hurt by my parents time and time again, he had become the one person I trusted, the one person I cared about most. I told him everything. Even the video Patty had just posted—I had only ever sent it to him. Years ago, Ethan, an amateur climber, had been caught in a flash storm on a solo climb. It was pure chance that I was nearby. I risked my own life to save him. If I hadn’t, he would have died on that mountain. After he recovered, he latched onto me, following me everywhere, his eyes shining as he begged me to be with him. “Clara, if you don’t say yes, I’ll follow you for the rest of your life!” “I can see you’re carrying a heavy burden. Let me help you carry it.” His persistence wore me down. I finally agreed to be his girlfriend, and I told him everything about my family. At first, he was my comfort, promising to build a real home with me, for me. But somewhere along the line, he started getting closer to Patty. By the time I realized what was happening, the accident had occurred. Before I could even confront him, he had conspired with my parents to make me the scapegoat. Seeing that video, any love I had left for him died. Ethan came home late that night. When he saw my injuries, he rushed to my side. “How did this happen? I’m taking you to the hospital!” I shook his hand off and stared at him, my eyes cold. “What’s the deal with the video?” He paled, realizing what I was talking about. “Patty was in a really bad state. You have no idea what that trophy meant to her. I only showed her the video to stop her from doing something stupid. Besides, you can’t climb anymore. That stuff doesn’t mean anything to you now.” “You’re not me. How would you know what it means to me?” My question seemed to spark a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He stepped closer, taking my arm again, his voice softening. “It was an emergency. I didn’t have time to think. I promise, I’ll take you to any mountain you want to see. We’ll make new videos, better ones.” I looked into his earnest eyes, my mind a chaotic mess of emotions. Just then, my parents burst into the room. “Ethan! Something’s happened to Patty!” 4 Ethan dropped my hand and ran out of the room. My parents, halfway out the door, noticed I hadn’t moved and shot me a furious glare. “Your sister is in trouble, and you don’t even care? I bet you had something to do with this!” After spitting their venom, they hurried away. I was just about to lie down when my phone rang. It was Ethan. He was silent for a long moment before speaking, his voice heavy. “Clara, you need to get over here, quickly. There’s new evidence in the climbing accident case. The injustice you suffered… it can finally be cleared up.” I was skeptical, but the desire to clear my name was stronger. I went to the address he gave me. When I arrived, Ethan was standing there, his head bowed, chewing on his lip. Before I could ask what was going on, my father swung a trekking pole, striking my good leg. The crack of bone echoed in the quiet room. I collapsed, a wave of nausea and cold sweat washing over me as the agonizing pain hit. Several familiar faces loomed over me. It was the families of the teenagers who had died. My mother’s voice cut through the haze of pain. “It was selfish of us to hide the truth. The fact is, Clara was jealous of Patty’s success, and she deliberately took your children climbing to spite her.” A deathly chill spread through me. The scene from years ago was replaying itself. Ethan knelt beside me, his voice a low, urgent whisper. “They thought the accident was just that—an accident. So after you went to prison, they let it go. But now, they’ve seen the news online, and they know it was intentional. They’re furious.” “They couldn’t find you, so they came for Patty. I was afraid something would happen to her, so I…” Tears blurred my vision. I looked up at him and laughed, a broken, hollow sound. “So you lured me here? To make me take the fall for Patty all over again?” “You wretched girl, what nonsense are you spouting?!” my father roared. “You’re the one who killed them! What does this have to do with Patty?!” Before I could reply, he struck me again, this time across my back. My mother cradled Patty in her arms, looking down at me on the floor with cold indifference. “You made your bed, now you have to lie in it. Are you trying to drag Patty down with you? Because of you, she’s reliving that trauma all over again. If her condition gets worse, I’ll never forgive you!” Ethan gently wiped the sweat from my brow, his hand gripping mine tightly. “Just let them get their anger out, and then we can start a new life. No matter what, I won’t leave you. I’ll face this with you this time.” My father threw the trekking pole down in front of me. “None of this would have happened if you didn’t cause so much trouble!” My mother, clutching Patty, sobbed with rage. “Clara, do you have any idea how much Patty has suffered because of you? She finally has a chance at a bright future. Are you really going to destroy it?” She has a bright future? What about me? Am I supposed to live the rest of my life covered in this filth? My questioning gaze made my parents look away, a hint of shame in their eyes. Ethan’s eyes reddened. “Clara, as soon as this is over, we’ll get married,” he promised. At his words, Patty shot me a look of pure hatred before her eyes rolled back and she fainted in my mother’s arms. “Patty!” Ethan’s head snapped around. He saw Patty, limp and unconscious, and a look of conflict crossed his face. “Ethan, you’re the only one who can stop her from doing something drastic,” my mother pleaded. “Please, come with us to the hospital.” “But…” He glanced at me, hesitating for a moment before squeezing my hand. “They just want to know the truth. They won’t actually hurt you. I’ll be back for you soon. Patty needs me right now. I can’t let anything happen to her.” I watched as Ethan and my parents disappeared, and I closed my eyes in utter despair. When I opened them again, they were filled with ice. I looked at the victims’ families and smiled. “You want to know the truth of what happened that day?”

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1 In the fifth year of our secret marriage, my asexual wife finally agreed to a public wedding. But on our wedding day, nestled inside the ring box I presented to her, was a used condom. Before I could even react, the man who had been in love with my wife for years made a grand entrance, wearing the very suit my wife had designed for me. He held up his hand, showing off a wedding band, his eyes dripping with contempt. “Sorry, man,” he drawled. “I had a little too much to drink at the bachelor party last night. Your wife helped me… put out the fire. Seven times.” “In the heat of the moment,” he continued, “she put your ring on my finger.” “As for that little souvenir in your box… my mistake. I meant to keep it for myself.” He slipped the ring off his finger and pressed it into my hand, his voice laced with mock regret. “Vivian, I’m heading abroad to find my own true love. You don’t have to keep up this charade for me anymore—this whole ‘asexual’ thing you’ve been telling your husband.” “And congratulations on your wedding.” Amidst the shocked gasps of our guests, Vivian snatched the ring from my hand. “I’ll make it up to you,” she muttered, “the wedding, the ring, all of it.” But as I watched her walk away, all I felt was a profound, nauseating exhaustion. If she was going to be this filthy, then for once, I would be the one with standards. … When Vivian returned, she was wearing a suit that matched Andrew’s. They were holding hands. I had just finished announcing that the wedding was canceled and that the celebration was now for my promotion. The applause died the moment they stepped into the room. Her eyes scanned the empty space where our wedding portrait should have been, then landed on the projector screen displaying my professional achievements. Her face darkened. “Damian! What the hell are you doing? This is supposed to be a wedding!” “Where’s the wedding video?” I didn’t look up. I calmly signed my name on the contract for my overseas assignment, which started in three days. When I finally raised my eyes, my gaze fell on Andrew, who was casually toying with the wedding ring he had handed me an hour ago—the ring that was now back on his finger. He offered a smarmy grin. “Don’t get the wrong idea, man. Vivian insisted. She said… this ring and this suit were always meant for me. She designed them to my measurements.” How laughable. He said it so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. My wedding ring, designed by my wife for another man. The irony was suffocating. “And this suit,” he added, “I wasn’t even going to wear it today. Didn’t want to steal your thunder. But Vivian said she wanted to see me in it, so… what could I do?” “If it bothers you, I can take it off right now.” I could see the smug triumph in his eyes. I swallowed my disgust. “It doesn’t bother me,” I said, my voice flat. “Do whatever you want.” “Whatever you claim is yours, is yours. No one’s going to fight you for it anymore.” I picked up my glass to leave, but Vivian grabbed my wrist. “That’s enough, Damian. Are you done? I’m back, aren’t I? What’s with the attitude?” Her brow was furrowed, as if I were the one being unreasonable. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for Andrew to be out there alone? Was it so wrong for me to go after him?” “If there was really something between us, you would have been out of the picture a long time ago!” The old me would have screamed, would have fought. Now, I just felt a deep, weary pity for the man I used to be. My silence seemed to enrage her. She took a deep breath, then softened her tone, though it was still edged with impatience. She pressed a piece of candy into my palm. “Come on. Isn’t this the day you’ve been waiting for? Stop making a scene. Here, have some candy. You love candy, remember?” “Eat it, and try to smile. The ceremony time has passed, so we’ll just skip it.” “Go change. We’ll make the rounds and toast the guests together.” I stared at the mango-flavored candy in my hand. The irony was a bitter pill. She remembered every one of Andrew’s measurements, every one of his preferences, every one of his weaknesses. But she had forgotten that I was deathly allergic to mango. The last time I’d had a severe reaction, the time I’d ended up in the emergency room, it was because Andrew had secretly added mango puree to my drink. She had sat by my hospital bed, her eyes red, clutching my hand. “Damian, I’m so sorry,” she’d whispered. “It’s all my fault… I didn’t explain it to him properly.” “I promise, from now on, I will never forget.” The promise echoed in my memory, a ghost only I could hear. I was about to speak, to salvage what little dignity I had left, when Andrew suddenly swayed, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Viv… Vivian… I think… I think my blood sugar is low…” Without a moment’s hesitation, she snatched the candy from my hand and gently fed it to him. Looking at them, in their matching suits, I felt a wave of revulsion. When I returned, changed into a burgundy tuxedo, I found Vivian peeling shrimp and placing them in Andrew’s mouth. One of her friends tried to smooth things over. “Damian, don’t mind her. Viv… she just has poor boundaries, that’s all. But she really does love you. We can all see it.” I almost laughed out loud. Vivian had once been known for being completely professional and distant with men. My birthday was her phone password. She reported back from every social gathering with male friends. She had once frozen out a business partner for making an off-color joke. But those clear, firm boundaries had crumbled two years ago, when her childhood friend, Andrew, had reappeared with a stack of old love letters, confessing that he had been in love with her his whole life and could never love anyone else. “Vivi.” Andrew’s voice broke through my thoughts. He raised his glass, a provocative glint in his eye as he looked at me. “I hear that when you cross arms and drink at a wedding, it means you’ll be together forever…” He quickly waved his hand, feigning nonchalance. “Don’t get me wrong! I meant… as best friends. Without you, I just don’t know what I’d do…” All eyes were on them. Vivian hesitated for only a second before she linked her arm with his and they drank. “Andrew,” she said, her voice earnest, “you don’t have to be so careful around me. We’ll be best friends forever.” I started clapping, a wide, bright smile on my face. “To the happy couple! May you have three kids in two years and be stuck with each other for eternity!” A colleague came over with a drink, her expression sympathetic. “Damian, here. Don’t let people who want to have their cake and eat it too ruin your mood.” “On behalf of the whole company, congratulations on your promotion. May you leave the drama behind and have a brilliant career!” I raised my glass in a toast, but was interrupted by Vivian’s cold, incredulous voice. “Damian, are you so desperate for attention that you’d resort to putting on a play?” She raised an eyebrow, looking me up and down. “As I recall, you can’t even make a decent PowerPoint presentation. You, getting a promotion? Your boss must be blind.” At that, my boss, Mr. Hayes, stood up. “Ms. Archer, please watch your words. Damian earned this promotion on his own merit. In three days, he will be assuming the role of Regional Executive Director…” Before he could finish, Andrew cut in. “I’m sorry, Vivian. It’s all my fault for being so useless… I shouldn’t have come. You should stay with your husband. I’ll just go to a bar for a while. I’m still not feeling great from whatever I took last night…” He turned and strode away. Vivian glanced at me, then grabbed her car keys without a second thought. “You go home and wait for me. I’ll go check on him.” She didn’t even wait for my reply before she was gone, chasing after him once again. The company was efficient. I had my flight confirmation before I had even finished packing that night. Just as I was checking the details, Mr. Hayes called. “Damian, are you sure you don’t want to take advantage of the company’s family accompaniment benefit? I thought you couldn’t bear to be away from Vivian, that was why you never wanted the London post. It’s a five-year assignment. Are you sure this won’t affect your marriage?” I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “No, thank you. Some things just can’t be forced.” “A good marriage is a two-way street,” he said, his tone approving. “Honestly, if Vivian really cherished you, she wouldn’t have made you wait five years for a wedding, only to pull a stunt like this.” “It’s good that you’re focusing on your career now. At least you won’t lose yourself.” “Yes, Mr. Hayes,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “You can count on me. I won’t let you down in London.” I had just hung up when I heard Vivian’s voice. “What London trip? You’re going on a business trip? Why didn’t you discuss it with me?” She had come in without me noticing. Her face was a mask of displeasure. I didn’t explain. I just looked away, unable to meet her gaze. The angry red and purple marks on her neck were too disgusting to look at. As I walked past her towards the bedroom, she instinctively took a few steps back, putting distance between us. I felt a surge of self-loathing. In all our years together, she had rarely touched me. Even holding hands was a rarity. Her excuse was always the same: she had severe OCD and hated physical contact. But now I saw the truth. Her aversion was only for me. She followed me into the bedroom and saw my suitcase. Her voice rose in anger. “Damian, what is the meaning of this? Do you have anything to say to me? How long is this trip?” Before I could answer, her phone rang, a shrill, urgent sound. “Vivian, can you… can you not have your wedding night just yet? The power’s out over here, and there’s a thunderstorm. I’m not feeling well… I don’t want to be here alone…” Vivian immediately turned to leave, her tone shifting from accusatory to anxious. “Andrew, don’t cry!” “Don’t worry, I’m on my way to get you.” The cold click of the door shutting echoed in the silent apartment. She had left me again, without a second thought. The London trip, my promotion, all of it forgotten. I forced a bitter smile, pulled myself together, and walked out with my suitcase. I spent the next two days in a hotel. I couldn’t bear the thought of sharing a roof with her. As for the pair of custom motorcycle helmets I had once treasured, displayed in a special cabinet in the entryway… I took the man’s and left the woman’s. Once my most prized possession, I now tossed it into a dumpster without a second thought. As the rain began to fall, spattering against the helmet, I saw a vision of the old Vivian. Back then, we couldn’t afford a motorcycle, let alone matching helmets. We had just graduated from the same high school, both of us from the foster care system, and had gotten into the same university. We fell in love. We had nothing, but we had each other, sharing a rental bike and dreaming of the future. The Vivian from my memories was dead. Back then, she didn’t have a case of “asexuality” that was conveniently specific to me. She didn’t have an “aversion to physical contact.” The next morning, I printed out divorce papers. I was going to give them to my lawyer, but Vivian called. She said it was urgent and that I needed to come over immediately. The moment I stepped through the door, a wave of dizziness washed over me. My blood sugar was crashing, and I didn’t have any candy in my bag. I saw a glass of milk on the table, and I took a sip, but Vivian snatched it away. “Damian, where are your manners? Was that for you? You just take whatever you want? Taking without asking is stealing, you know!” “You have no upbringing at all!” She frowned, disgusted, and threw the milk I had drunk from into the trash. She even grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and disinfected the cup and her own hands. The sight of it made my eyes burn. A disgust I had never felt before rose in my throat. “Vivian, I’ve been with you since I was twenty. I’ve lost count of how many meals I’ve cooked for you.” “And in your eyes, when my blood sugar is low, I can’t even have a sip of your milk?” She stared at me for a moment, then said coldly, “If you want a drink, you have hands, don’t you?” “That was for Andrew.” Then, as if a new thought had occurred to her, she added, her voice dripping with contempt, “Damian, when did you become so shameless? You’re like a pathetic copycat. It’s nauseating.” “You know Andrew has low blood sugar, so today you pretend to have it too? Just to get my attention? You have no shame.” With that, she went into the kitchen and resumed her task of learning to fry an egg from an online tutorial. I stood there, stunned. It felt as if years of my devotion had been thrown to a dog that could never be tamed. I opened the papers to the last page and held out a pen, but she didn’t even glance at me. Her entire focus was on the tutorial and the frying pan. For a moment, I saw the old Vivian again. It was in the early days of our startup. We were just starting to see some success. I had given up my own dreams to focus on schmoozing clients, drinking until my stomach bled. When she rushed to the hospital, her face was etched with worry. But when I told her I wanted some of her homemade porridge, she refused. “Damian, you’re a grown man. Don’t be so demanding. We can just order takeout.” “I can’t cook to save my life. I’ll never set foot in a kitchen…” The memories were like sharp knives, gutting me. Just then, Andrew shuffled out of our bedroom, yawning. He was wearing my pajamas, his eyes still heavy with sleep. The marks on his collarbone were even more vivid than the ones on Vivian’s neck. Vivian’s attention was immediately captured. “Andrew, you’re up so early. Is your head still hurting?” I stepped in front of her as she moved towards him. “Sign it,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Or no one is having a good day today.” Andrew whined, “Vivi, I’m hungry! Just give your husband what he wants, don’t fight with him.” “I want breakfast. Made by you.” Vivian smiled and nodded. When she looked back at me, her face was a thundercloud. She snatched the papers and signed her name without even reading them. “Get out of my way.” I suppressed every emotion threatening to boil over, took the papers, and turned to leave. But she called out to me. “I signed it, didn’t I? What’s your problem now?” “I called you back here to make hangover soup for Andrew. Get to it. And don’t take all day.” A bitter taste filled my mouth. In our poorest, most difficult days, we were constantly entertaining clients, eating erratically, drinking too much. The first thing I had learned to cook was hangover soup. I was about to refuse, to just walk out, but then I saw the faint scar on her forehead from a burn, and I went into the kitchen. “Vivian,” I said, my voice carrying out to her, “this is the last time.” Years ago, I had been trapped in a fire. I was on the verge of death when she had rushed in, heedless of her own safety. Consider this my final repayment. As I was making the soup, Andrew sidled up to me. “Damian, you know why Vivian won’t let you touch her?” he sneered. “I have a… special condition. I have to be kept completely ‘clean.’ She says you’re too dirty. If she touched you, I might have an allergic reaction.” I didn’t bother to reply. It was pathetic, and laughable. He then emptied a bottle of rubbing alcohol onto the gas stove. The flames roared to life, licking at my arm. The pain was excruciating. And Andrew, the instigator, screamed as if he were the one who had been terrified. Vivian rushed in. Andrew immediately put on a show of remorse. “Vivi, I didn’t mean to!” “I just thought the flame was too low, and I wanted to help Damian. I… I didn’t think this would happen…” She soothed him instantly. “It’s okay, Andrew, don’t blame yourself. I know you were just trying to help.” My arm was red and blistering, the pain a searing agony. Andrew clutched his stomach, his brow furrowed. “Vivi, my head is hurting again…” Vivian glanced at me, her tone dismissive. “There’s burn cream in the cabinet. Take care of it yourself.” Then she turned back to Andrew, her voice filled with concern. “He’s not feeling well. I’m taking him to the hospital.” Two hours later, I received a rare message from Vivian. It was a video of her in a meeting. [Busy. Not coming home tonight.] What she didn’t know was that a second before she sent that message, she had been in Andrew’s social media feed. It was hard to believe that the woman gently feeding Andrew was the same one who had once been my devoted partner, the same one who was now a pathological liar. I didn’t reply. What she didn’t know was that we no longer had a home to return to. The next day, on my way to get my burn redressed, I saw them from a distance. Andrew was on one knee in front of the hospital, holding a bouquet of flowers. The wind was strong, and it carried his voice to me. “Vivi,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “let’s have this baby, okay?” “Damian has had you for your whole life. I… I just want a child…” So, my wife was pregnant. And the child wasn’t mine. And I, her husband, was the last to know. I didn’t linger. I hailed a cab and went straight to the airport. As I was going through security, she sent me a text. “Damian, where are you? Did you run away from home again?” “Come back. I need to talk to you about something.” “By the way, when are you leaving for London? I can give you a ride.” I called my lawyer and asked him to deliver a gift to Vivian for me. “Mr. Sterling,” he asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice, “are you sure you want me to deliver the divorce papers and the video of Ms. Archer’s… group activities… with Mr. Vance?”

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At twelve o’clock, I’d just pulled out my thermal lunch container when my colleague Brenda sidled up to my desk—empty bowl in hand, a wide predatory smile on her face. “Anya, your lunch smells amazing. You’ll share half, right?” I smiled politely and shook my head. “Sorry Brenda, this is all I have. If I give you half, I’ll be starving by three.” I thought it was a crass joke and she’d drop it. I was wrong. She pulled up a chair, sat across from me, dead serious. “How about this?” she leaned forward, conspiratorial. “I’ll transfer you five dollars a month, and you give me half your lunch daily. Deal?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “You’re young—eating less helps keep your figure. Win-win.” Her bizarre logic left me speechless. I stared at my food, hoping she’d take the hint. Instead, her chopsticks shot out like a snake’s tongue, snagging the largest piece of sweet-and-sour pork from my container. “C’mon Anya, don’t stay silent. You’re already cooking for one—adding a bit more won’t cost much. I’ll even give you cooking feedback. Five bucks buys a couple pounds of kale, and you get on my good side. Total bargain!” … Before I could even form a response, the prize piece of my lunch had vanished into her mouth. She chewed with a theatrical slowness, swallowed with a sigh of satisfaction, and even dabbed her lips with a napkin before speaking again. “Delicious. A little salty, though. Try half a spoonful less soy sauce next time. So, it’s settled. I’ll send you the five dollars at the end of the month.” With that, she pushed her empty bowl across my desk, expecting me to fill it. A bitter laugh escaped me. The fire in my gut flared, but my face remained a placid mask. “Brenda,” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Was the pork good?” She seemed taken aback that I dared to speak. For a second, she faltered, then plastered on that condescending, world-weary smile of hers. “Oh, relax, sweetie. It’s just one piece of meat. You didn’t think I’d actually eat it for free, did you?” “Oh? So you’re offering to pay? Excellent.” I nodded as if this was exactly what I’d been waiting for. Without another word, I picked up my phone, opened my messaging app, and sent a quick voice note to Mrs. Davis, my family’s private chef. I made sure to put it on speaker. “Mrs. Davis, could you please send me the digital receipt for today’s lunch? Yes, right now would be great. Thank you.” The air in our section of the office went still. Brenda’s smile began to look a little strained. Less than ten seconds later, my phone buzzed. I opened the image and shoved the screen right in Brenda’s face, tapping my finger on the grand total at the top. I watched, with immense satisfaction, as her expression shifted from smug amusement to confusion, and finally, to pure, unadulterated shock. The color drained from her face, her lips starting to tremble. “See it clearly, Brenda?” I pulled the phone back, my voice slow and deliberate. “The ingredients alone for my lunch today cost fifty-two dollars and eighty cents.” I looked at her ashen face, my tone one of sincere concern. “You can’t just eat one piece of meat a day, can you? You said you wanted half. Half would be twenty-six dollars and forty cents. We’ll say twenty-two workdays a month… that comes out to a mere five hundred eighty dollars and eighty cents. A little more than the five dollars you offered. By about five hundred and seventy-five dollars.” A choked snort of laughter erupted from a junior colleague in the corner. Brenda’s face turned a shade of crimson so deep it was almost purple. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. I ignored her, serenely picking up my chopsticks and selecting a glistening, translucent shrimp, which I popped into my mouth. Let’s see you try to grift my lunch again. Just then, my phone screen lit up with another message from Mrs. Davis. “Miss, for tomorrow’s lunch, would you prefer the A5 Wagyu with black truffle or the Lobster Thermidor?” My eyes still downcast, I typed back my reply. “Both. One of each.” The atmosphere in the office the next day was thick with something toxic. Colleagues who usually nodded hello now either stared right through me or quickly averted their gaze. It was painfully obvious. Brenda, smarting from her public humiliation, had no doubt spent the evening poisoning the well in every company group chat. She herself was in early, head buried in her work the moment I walked in. The back of her head radiated pure venom. I couldn’t have cared less. At three o’clock, our department’s sacred afternoon tea time, Brenda’s demeanor changed entirely. She sprang to her feet, beaming, phone in hand. “Bubble tea, everyone! My treat!” she announced, her voice loud enough to carry across the entire floor. “Think of it as my apology for yesterday’s little… misunderstanding.” She made a grand show of taking orders, going desk by desk, pointedly skipping mine as if I were invisible. Someone finally whispered, “Brenda, you haven’t asked Anya yet.” “Oh!” Brenda slapped her forehead with theatrical dismay. “Silly me! Of course. But someone who eats such gourmet lunches wouldn’t be interested in our cheap ten-dollar bubble tea, would she? I wouldn’t dare ask, what if she makes me send her the receipt?” A wave of muffled, cruel laughter rippled through the office. They were ganging up to isolate me. I didn’t even look up, the rhythmic click of my keyboard the only response I gave them. During my lunch break, I set out the two containers Mrs. Davis had prepared: one with A5 Wagyu and shaved black truffle, the other with a golden-crusted Lobster Thermidor. Just as I lifted the lids, my phone buzzed. A notification popped up: Brenda Smith has invited you to the group chat “The Loving Lunchtime Support Group.” I raised an eyebrow. The moment I joined, a message from Brenda tagged me. “@AnyaLin, welcome, welcome! The department’s lunch club is officially open! After a unanimous vote, we’ve all agreed that since you bring the best food, you’ll be in charge of our main course every day! The rest of us can just bring, you know, a fruit salad or something. What do you think?” The chat immediately flooded with messages of “Great idea!” and “I support Brenda!” I stared at the message, a wry smile touching my lips. Apparently, yesterday’s public shaming wasn’t enough for her. She was serving her face up for another slap. I simply tapped the corner of the screen and left the group chat. Let someone else be the fool. It was a blatant attempt to leech off me. A second later, I saw a new notification pop up on the phone of the colleague next to me, who I was on decent terms with. It was a screenshot of the “Anya Lin has left the group” notification. Beneath it, Brenda had posted a dramatic message: “Sigh. Young people these days have absolutely no sense of team spirit. Oh well, let’s just eat by ourselves and not bother Her Majesty.” I lifted a piece of Wagyu to my lips. It was tender, practically melting on my tongue. As I was about to dive into the lobster, my neighbor slid her phone over to me, giving me a pointed look. It was a link to the company’s internal, anonymous message board. I clicked on it. A bright red, pinned post title stabbed me in the eyes. EXPOSED: The Million-Dollar Lunch Queen in Our Department, a Selfish Hypocrite Hiding in Plain Sight. “The Million-Dollar Lunch Queen.” I had to admit, it was catchy. The post was even more vicious than I’d anticipated. The author, affecting an objective tone dripping with envy, painted me as a spoiled rich girl who’d parachuted into the company and looked down on everyone. “Her lunch every day costs more than what we spend on groceries in a week. When we asked her to help with a main dish for a group lunch, she just left the chat…” “Yesterday she humiliated a senior colleague in front of everyone with some fake receipt, showing no decency or respect…” “This kind of person is dangerously manipulative. Who knows what she’s really doing at a small company like ours. Ladies, stay far away from her…” There were already hundreds of replies. “I know who this is. Anya Lin. Always acts so high and mighty.” “OMG, how terrifying. She’s the definition of a textbook narcissist.” “Poor Brenda, getting bullied by a newbie like that.” I scrolled through the venomous comments, my face impassive, my heart a steady, cold drum. Brenda’s revenge had come faster than I’d expected. At two p.m., the director’s assistant tapped on my desk. “Anya, Mr. Williams wants to see you in his office.” As I stood up, every eye in the office turned to me, hungry for drama. A tiny, triumphant smirk was already playing on Brenda’s lips. I walked into the director’s office. Mr. Williams was rubbing his temples, his face a mask of exhaustion and annoyance. He didn’t offer me a seat. “Anya,” he began, his tone sharp. “You’ve been with us for a little while now. How are you finding it?” I remained silent. He slammed his thermos down on the desk with a heavy thud. “I saw the post on the forum.” He looked up, his eyes filled with accusation. “Anya, you know the saying, ‘where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ Out of everyone in this department, why are they writing about you? Have you stopped to think about what you might be doing wrong?” His logic was so twisted I almost laughed. “It takes two to tango! If you had a better relationship with your colleagues, none of this would have happened! Now the entire department is a laughingstock in the company!” “Go apologize to Brenda. Be the bigger person,” he ordered, delivering his final verdict. “Get her to take the post down, and we’ll consider this matter closed. The company does not tolerate internal conflict.” I looked at his face, a perfect portrait of a man desperate to sweep a problem under the rug, and finally spoke. “Mr. Williams, are you telling me that if a thief breaks into my house, I should apologize to the thief for having a weak lock?” His face darkened instantly. He clearly hadn’t expected me to talk back. “Anya! What is that supposed to mean?” he roared, slamming his hand on the desk. “Do you even want this job anymore?!” I smiled, a breezy, unbothered expression on my face. “Of course, I do.” My calm reaction seemed to throw him off. He just stared, his chest heaving. “But Mr. Williams, I’d like to remind you of a few things.” “First, the company handbook explicitly prohibits spreading rumors and slandering colleagues. Brenda’s actions are a direct violation of company policy. As her manager, not only are you failing to address it, you’re asking me, the victim, to apologize. Wouldn’t that be considered management negligence?” The color on his face began to shift. “Second,” I continued, my voice steady but my gaze turning to ice, “you mentioned ‘where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ Well, if a department constantly has issues with cliques, bullying, and drama that becomes company-wide gossip, doesn’t that suggest that maybe the department itself is the fire? That the whole place is rotten?” “You… you…” He pointed a trembling finger at me, speechless with rage. “And third,” I straightened my posture and smoothed down my blouse, my voice returning to a calm, professional tone. “I will not be apologizing. And it doesn’t matter if she deletes the post or not, because I’ve already contacted my lawyer. As for whether this incident will harm the company’s reputation… well, that depends on whether the company chooses to protect a slanderer or a victim.” “I’ve said my piece. I’ll let you get back to work, Director.” Without a second glance at his apoplectic face, I turned, opened the door, and walked out.

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In the third year of our relationship, Liam cheated. I watched the whole thing, calmly, on a video sent from his “best friend.” Everyone thought I loved him. They thought that even after his betrayal, I’d be too weak to leave. They don’t know that I’m not holding on to him. I’m using him as bait. I’m holding on to attract the attention of his older brother, Marcus. Marcus Walker has a habit of taking everything Liam owns. Especially the women Liam loves. 1 Liam Walker is wild. He burns through girlfriends, with his previous record being one month. With me, he lasted three years. His friends all said they’d never seen him so committed. In his orbit, only two women ever stick around. Me. And his “female bro,” Chloe. Liam has a short attention span and a wide social circle. I hate networking. My presence at his parties was always a wet blanket. So, he started taking Chloe everywhere. “She knows how to have fun,” he’d say. The subtext was clear. Chloe has been Liam’s shadow since boarding school. He swears he “sees her as a brother.” She’s loud, she can party, and she never lets the energy die. Because she knows how to “have fun,” they eventually had “fun” in his bed. 2 I’m two years older than Liam. I was his T.A. in a graduate-level seminar he was only taking for an “easy A.” He fell for me instantly and launched a full-scale campaign. He was a classic golden-boy heir: relentless, charming, and full of a manic energy I mistook for passion. Eventually, I fell for him. We had a routine: study sessions, dinners, movies, planning a future. Then, Chloe reappeared. She’d dropped out of college and crashed in New York, landing right in Liam’s guest room. Our library dates turned into his “I’ll be right back,” which turned into a no-show. I knew he was a playboy taming himself for me. Chloe was the one who untied his leash. My love for him evaporated the moment she “accidentally” sent me that video two weeks ago. A 10-second clip of them in bed. His face, her face. Unmistakable. She recalled it instantly. “OMG, wrong chat!!!” she texted. I pretended I never saw it. From that day on, I buried my disgust and became the perfect, understanding girlfriend. I let Chloe’s petty provocations slide off me. Liam wanted a sweet, supportive, low-drama partner? I could play that. As long as I didn’t break up with him, I was his official, family-approved girlfriend. That meant access to his world. Access to the resources I needed. Chloe could be the dirty little secret he kept in his guest room. On New Year’s Eve, Liam went out. Chloe was with him. She spent the night “accidentally” sending me blurry, intimate photos from the party. A total clown show. Around midnight, I put on my “devoted girlfriend” mask and texted Liam. “Hey, is the party winding down? I can come pick you up.” It took him half an hour to respond. “Sorry babe, they keep pouring me drinks. Just saw this. We’re wrapping up.” He sent a location pin and Venmo’d me $100. “Get a car. It’s freezing out.” I took the money. “Okay.” I got to the club. They weren’t out. It was 5°F. It really was freezing. I paid an Uber driver $40 to let me just sit in his car at the curb. After thirty minutes, I saw Liam’s friends stumbling out. Show time. I paid the driver, got out, and made a show of rubbing my hands together and shivering. Chloe came out first. She saw me, her eyes widened, and she immediately looked away, pretending not to notice. She waited for Liam, then grabbed his arm, standing on her toes to whisper something in his ear. Whatever she said made him laugh. He playfully pinched her nose. They looked every bit the couple. “Liam,” I called out. He turned, saw me, and instantly ripped his arm away from Chloe. He ran over. Chloe was left standing alone, her fists clenched. 3 “Ava! How long have you been here? Why didn’t you go inside?” “Oh, not long,” I lied. “Maybe forty minutes?” “You’ve been standing here?” He looked horrified. “Mhm. It’s not that cold.” I let out a perfectly timed sneeze. He immediately unzipped his massive puffer jacket and wrapped me inside it, pulling me against his chest. “You should have texted me! Why would you wait out here?” “I didn’t want to bother you,” I murmured into his chest. “You were having fun with your friends. You deserved a night off.” He looked at me, his eyes shining with guilt. “Ava, you’re too good to me.” Just then, Chloe walked over, grabbing Liam’s other arm. “Well, damn, Walker,” she said, her voice intentionally loud. “Who’s this? You’ve got women lining up to drive you home?” “What are you talking about? This is Ava,” Liam said, annoyed. “Oh, Ava! Sorry! I thought you were another one of Liam’s side-pieces.” She playfully bumped his shoulder. Liam shoved her. “Shut up, Chloe.” I took off my mask. “It’s okay.” My lack of reaction clearly pissed her off. She tried again. “Hey, Liam,” she said, “don’t forget our bet. You won this round, but I will be kissing you back.” I couldn’t let that slide. It would be out of character. “Kissing him back? What does that mean?” I looked at Liam. He panicked. “Chloe, what the hell are you saying? It was just a game!” “Relax,” Chloe said, turning to me. “You’re so understanding, Ava. I’m sure you won’t get the wrong idea.” “So, what does it mean?” I pressed. Chloe got evasive. “God, it was nothing. Liam and I are just… bros. You know?” Liam was furious. “Chloe, stop talking! There’s nothing to talk about!” She ignored him, grabbing my arm. “Ava, we’ve been best friends forever. You know our vibe. Don’t be so paranoid.” My face went cold. “I’m not being paranoid, Chloe. If it’s nothing, just say what it was. Being this secretive just makes it look like you’re hiding something.” She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you girls are all the same. So uptight.” “Are you not a girl, Chloe?” She scoffed. “Not like you.” She hooked her arm through Liam’s again. “I’m one of his bros.” Liam didn’t respond to her. He grabbed my shoulders, desperate. “Ava, I swear to God, we’re just friends. I don’t even see her as a woman.” “I believe you,” I said, cutting him off. I took his hand. “You and Chloe have known each other forever. If something was going to happen, it would have happened by now, right, Liam?” His eyes darted away for a millisecond. “Right. Nothing.” I held his gaze. “And you wouldn’t lie to me. Would you?” His eyes were wet with guilt. He swore he’d never lie. He swore on his life. Good. I hope he loses it. 4 I’d never cared about Liam’s family, just that he was rich. After the video, I ran a full background check. Liam was the baby, the “golden child.” He had two older sisters, both married off. And one older brother. Marcus. The illegitimate one. Marcus was the family pariah, treated like dirt, until the patriarch, Charles Walker, had a stroke five years ago. Marcus seized control of Walker Industries in a brutal, overnight coup. He is the real power. He spends a fortune cleaning up Liam’s messes and indulging his every whim, keeping him a spoiled, useless brat. It looks like love. But I know it’s a long-con. I can’t be tied to a useless puppet. The Walker name, the Walker resources… that is my ladder. And Liam is the first rung. I just need a way to get to Marcus. Liam was a perfect, guilty boyfriend for weeks. He even sat in the library with me, bored out of his mind. Chloe’s texts and calls made his phone vibrate off the table. He looked at me, sheepishly. “I’ll turn it off.” As if he didn’t want me to see how “in-demand” he was. I played the part. “Oh, don’t. It might be an emergency. You should take it.” When he stepped out, Chloe texted me. “Hey, Ava. K-BBQ tonight? My treat.” I didn’t reply. When Liam came back, I asked, “Are you free tonight? I’m craving K-BBQ.” He flinched. “Ah, shit. I have a team dinner. I can’t.” I knew it. Chloe was setting a trap. And I was walking right into it. This was my chance. 5 I got to the restaurant. Chloe greeted me, all smiles, and led me to a private room. Then she led Liam’s friends to the room next to mine. “Ava, you know how these guys get,” she said sweetly. “They’re animals. I’ll just put you here where it’s quiet. You’ll be more comfortable.” The rooms were separated by a paper-thin divider. I could hear every word. “I believe you,” I said, sitting down. As she turned to leave, she pulled down the collar of her sweater, flashing a necklace. A very specific, custom-designed diamond solitaire. Liam had given me an identical one. “Oh, this?” she said, “Liam’s so bad at gifts. He asked me to pick something out for you, and I loved it so much, he just bought me one too. You don’t mind, right? We’re bros.” “Why would I mind?” I said, not even looking up from the menu. “It’s his money. He can buy as many as he wants.” Her face tightened. “Right. I guess some women will put up with anything for a blank check.” “Exactly,” I said, finally looking at her. “And you’re different. You’re his bro. He doesn’t even see you as a woman. You’re the one person I never have to worry about.” Her smile was a strained, ugly grimace.

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My sister and I were reborn on the same day: the day we stood in the foster home, waiting to be chosen by New York’s wealthiest man. She pointed at me, her eyes wide with fake sincerity. “Mr. Vance, she’s… she’s my big sister. She’s always looked up to you.” “It would be her dream to be chosen by you. I’ll be okay, really.” And just like that, I was adopted by Marcus Vance. As I was leaving, my sister, Maya, gave me a triumphant smile. “Have fun, Ava. This time, you get to enjoy the living hell of being a Vance.” “And I,” she whispered, “am finally going to get the life I deserve.” In our first life, Maya was the one adopted by the Vances. She became the city’s most tragic “It Girl,” a beautiful party favor passed between monsters. I was adopted by a struggling family in Queens. I built a tech empire from scratch and became the new-money queen of the city. When we met again, she chose to swap lives with me. She cornered me on a rooftop, screaming, “You have no idea what they did to me! They trained me to be a whore! You had everything, and you never came to save me!” Then she pushed me. And I pulled her down with me. Now, she thinks she’s dodged the bullet and stolen my “lucky” path. But my dear, stupid sister… the Vance family’s resources? The name, the connections, the power? That isn’t a living hell. It’s a rocket launcher. She stole the wrong life. The “luck” was never the family. It was always my brain. 1 “Mr. Vance, she’s my sister’s hero…” The moment I heard those words, I knew. She remembered, too. In our first life, she locked me in a utility closet during the Vances’ visit, just to make sure I wasn’t seen. She got the billionaire. I got the Millers in Queens. As soon as I moved in with the Millers, their luck changed. Because I changed it. Their tiny savings, which I “borrowed” for stock trades, grew. Their failing hardware store, which I restructured, became a profitable chain. By the time I saw Maya again, I was the one with the real power, and they were the “lucky” family she thought she’d missed out on. She was right about one thing. Her life was hell. At that gala, she was drunk, wearing a dress that was practically transparent, fending off hands from men three times her age. The moment she saw me, poised, respected, and in control, she shattered. She blamed me. She killed me. And now, reborn, she thinks she’s pulling a fast one. Marcus Vance, the titan himself, was charmed by her “selflessness.” He agreed to adopt me. Maya’s eyes were electric with triumph. “This time, you get to be the family puppet,” she mouthed, blowing me a kiss. “Enjoy the torture.” I paused, my hand on my small duffel bag. “What was that, Maya?” “Goodbye, sister,” she sang, already turning toward the Millers, who were waiting in the next room. She’s running toward them, convinced she’s captured the golden goose. But she doesn’t get it. She’s swapping lives, not minds. How can she possibly steal what’s inside my head? 2 Before taking me to their penthouse on Park Avenue, Marcus and his wife, Eliza, took me for a full medical and psychological evaluation. They were… pleased with the results. “Welcome home, Ava,” Eliza finally said, taking my hand. Her smile was genuine, but her eyes were analytical. In the Bentley on the way home, Marcus asked, “So, I’m your hero, huh? In what way?” I clicked into the role. I was eight years old. I looked at him with carefully calibrated awe. “I read an article about you in Forbes at the library. I admire how you built your empire. The way you handle the markets. I want to build my own empire just like you someday.” This deeply pleased him. “You read Forbes? At your age?” “I’ve always been interested in business.” He and Eliza exchanged a look. It was the look of investors who’ve just found a unicorn. So, they didn’t treat me like a child. They treated me like a project. My schedule was packed: Etiquette. Art History. Piano. French. Equestrian. They even had a specialist come in to teach me “social dynamics.” And every night, I had to watch one hour of Bloomberg with Marcus. This was an elite education, designed to forge a successor. A month in, they were more than pleased. They were proud. Their affection was becoming less of an act. One night, Eliza took me into her legendary walk-in closet. It was a vault. “Ava,” she said, gesturing to the glittering shelves, “pick anything you like.” “Thank you, Mom,” I said, using the word deliberately. I then looked at the jewels. “I can identify most of these. Cartier, Harry Winston, the Bulgari heritage pieces. But… I don’t really like them.” I am not Maya. Maya’s downfall, I realized, wasn’t just that they wanted a socialite. It’s that she wanted to be one. She was lazy, shallow, and addicted to luxury. She had no other skills, so they used the only one she had. Eliza’s smile faltered. A complex emotion passed through her eyes. “What… what do you like, then?” I looked up at her, making my eyes wide. “Mom? If I ask for something, will you give it to me?” She paused, the calculation fading, replaced by something softer. “Of course, Ava. Tell me.” “The books say… books say moms read their kids bedtime stories. I know I’m eight, but… I’ve never had one.” “Mom,” I whispered, “could you read to me tonight?” 3 Eliza’s mask finally broke. She knelt and stroked my hair, her eyes suddenly, genuinely warm. “Yes,” she said, her voice thick. “Every night.” There is nothing more powerful than a mother’s devotion. And I had just created it. That night, she held me and read Cinderella. “Do you envy her, Ava?” she asked. “One day, you’ll meet your prince.” I looked up. “Mom? Did you meet your prince?” Her gaze went distant. A bitter shadow crossed her mouth. “No,” she said, smiling. “I didn’t.” She recovered. “Ava, are the lessons too much? If you don’t want to learn all this, you don’t have to. You’re our daughter now. You can just… be a child.” “When you grow up,” she continued, “I’ll find you a wonderful man from a good family. You can marry him and be happy and safe forever.” I knew, in that moment, that she truly saw me as her daughter. And I knew she must have given Maya the exact same offer in our first life. Maya would have taken it. I shook my head, pressing it into her shoulder. “I don’t want to marry a prince, Mom. I want to be like you.” She laughed. “Like me? And what am I?” “You’re powerful. You’re brilliant. You’re on the board. I want to be a strong woman, just like you.” I added, “And I hope I’m as beautiful as you when I grow up.” Marcus and Eliza Vance were a power couple. They’d built their empire together from nothing. But as I’d learned from my financial research, a man who can endure poverty with you can’t always endure wealth. Marcus was drowning in his own vices, and the tabloids loved it. Eliza, I sensed, was lonely. She missed the fight. “My path was very, very difficult, Ava,” she said softly. “I’m not afraid,” I said, my voice steel. “You did it. I can, too. I want to be just as amazing as you.” She kissed my forehead. “Okay, baby girl. Mom will help you.” From then on, Eliza didn’t just train me. She forged me. She poured every ounce of her strategic brilliance into me. She was a legend on Wall Street before she’d stepped back, and she was going to make sure I was, too. “I never want you to suffer what I did,” she’d say. “I won’t,” I’d promise, hugging her. “When I grow up, I’ll protect you.”

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