Four months after we broke up, I called Leo. “I’m pregnant. Do you want this baby?” Leo was quick to distance himself. “We used protection every single time. Don’t you dare pin this on me.” I asked one more time, just to be sure. “So you’re positive you don’t want this child, right?” “Do whatever you want. I don’t want it.” I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about a custody battle. I had the baby on my own. Raised her on my own. When she was six, I spent most of my savings on a house in the city center to get her into a top-tier school district. On her first day of school, she brought a man home. “Mom, he keeps saying he’s my dad and wants to fight you for custody.” My daughter, Zoe, looked completely exasperated. “What’s the deal? You never told me my dad was an idiot.” 1 It was the first time I’d seen Leo in six years. To be fair, he hadn’t changed much. He was still dressed like he’d just walked out of a magazine, not looking a day over thirty. He was scowling at me like I was his mortal enemy. “Mom, I’m hungry. Is there anything to eat?” Zoe rubbed her stomach. “Yep.” I went into the kitchen and got her a slice of the coffee cake I’d baked. Leo just stood in the doorway, motionless, as if he planned to stand there until the end of time if I didn’t invite him in. Zoe finished her cake, then turned to look at Leo and sighed dramatically. “Mom, maybe you two should talk? I have homework to do.” She picked up her little backpack. “But just so we’re clear, my custody is non-negotiable.” The word “custody” finally struck a nerve. Leo glared at me, his voice rising. “Zara, you’ve got some nerve, having my kid without telling me—” “Stop!” I held up a hand. “You’re a grown man. Can you please get your emotions in check?” “You secretly had my child and you’re telling me to be emotional?” He stared at me, dumbfounded. I glanced at Zoe’s closed bedroom door. She was mature for her age, but this wasn’t a conversation for her to overhear. Worried the walls were too thin, I walked out of the apartment and led Leo to the stairwell. “Zara, don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. You saw my family’s money and thought you could have a baby to get a piece of it, right?” Leo sneered. “Well, I’m telling you, it’s not that easy!” I pulled out my phone and played a six-year-old recording. “I’m pregnant. Do you want this baby?” “We used protection every single time. Don’t you dare pin this on me.” “So you’re positive you don’t want this child, right?” “Do whatever you want. I don’t want it.” When it finished, I played it again, just in case he hadn’t heard clearly. He looked like a duck with its neck wrung, his accusations dying in his throat. “I knew this day might come, so I kept the evidence.” I crossed my arms, looking him up and down. “Still just a trust fund kid after all these years. Looks like your parents know your limits, not even letting you touch the family business.” I leaned in. “You should take good care of that face. If you ever manage to bankrupt your family, you can still trade on your looks.” “She’s my daughter. Past, present, and future, she has absolutely nothing to do with you.” “You want to fight me for custody? Who do you think you are?” Furious, Leo punched the wall. The move might have had a certain angsty, teen-movie charm if he were seventeen. On a thirty-year-old man, it was just pathetic. I patted his shoulder. “If you have issues, get help. And I’m warning you, stay away from my daughter, or I’ll call the cops and report a kidnapping.” “On what grounds? I’m her father!” “Oh? And your proof?” “I can get a paternity test!” “Buddy, open your eyes.” I gave him a pitying look. “A DNA test after six years of silence doesn’t magically grant you rights.” 2 Leo left, reluctantly. At dinner that night, Zoe was sighing dramatically. I put a spoonful of broccoli on her plate, which only made her face scrunch up more. “Mom, why weren’t you more careful when you were picking out a dad for me?” she grumbled, poking at her food. “Did you only care about his face?” “I was young and wasn’t thinking clearly,” I said, reflecting on my past choices. “Is he going to keep bothering me?” “Hard to say,” I mused. “He definitely didn’t want a kid back then, but people change when they get older.” “He just doesn’t seem very bright. I’m worried my friends at school will see us together and ask who he is.” I thought her concern was a bit misplaced. Kids are way more focused on looks than adults. Leo was still as handsome as ever. With that face, he could be a complete moron and some kind-hearted first-grader would still think he was the coolest. “But how did you even run into him? And how was he so sure you were his daughter?” That was the part I couldn’t figure out. Our social circles didn’t overlap at all. If we passed on the street, I doubted he’d even recognize me. “After school today, I saw him talking to our principal,” Zoe said, not looking up. “I guess they know each other?” I thought about it but couldn’t connect the dots. Oh well. It wasn’t important. 3 The next day, after dropping Zoe at school, I drove to my shop. When Zoe was little, I ran a small baking business from home so I could look after her. After she got a bit older, and I won a fairly prestigious international baking award, I opened my own patisserie. Business had been good, and I was even thinking about opening a second location. Not long after I arrived, a customer came in. She wanted to order a five-tier cake for a birthday celebration. “Of course,” I said, smiling as we sat down to discuss the details. She was an elegant woman in a green dress, impeccably maintained, with a warm smile. But having met all sorts of people, I felt her smile was a little… eager. As we chatted, she mentioned her “good-for-nothing” son who refused to get married or have kids, causing her endless worry. “You know how it is, they have their own paths. Maybe the right person just hasn’t come along yet,” I offered politely. “I have a friend who was single until she was 34, then suddenly met the one, got married, and just had a baby last month.” “Oh, I’ve given up on him,” she said. “I was just hoping that while his father and I still have some energy, we could help raise a child. He’s such a waste, I’m afraid my granddaughter will turn out just like him.” “You don’t even know if you’ll have a granddaughter,” I laughed. “It’s a gut feeling, you know? A really strong one.” She grabbed my hand enthusiastically. “And we’re not one of those families that prefers boys! We’d cherish a grandson or a granddaughter all the same! Even though my son is useless, our family values are very strong. If we had a sweet grandbaby, the whole family would rally to support her!” I looked at her overly bright smile and hesitated. “Excuse me for asking, but do you know Leo?” “Oh, heavens, I’m his mother! Daughter-in-law, so nice to finally meet you! This is a little something for you!” It was like she was just waiting for me to ask. She eagerly pulled a stunningly clear jade bracelet from her purse and tried to slide it onto my wrist. My heart sank. That bastard, Leo. He knew he couldn’t win, so he sent his mother. Was he taking advantage of the fact that my own mother was no longer around? 4 Leo’s mother was gracious the entire time. To ensure I didn’t mistake her intentions, she quickly clarified that she just wanted to be close to the child, not fight for custody. “I won’t lie to you, Leo is a disappointment. He only holds a nominal position at our company; we wouldn’t dare give him any real power.” “But his father and I can’t work forever, can we?” “We’ve lost hope in Leo, but you’ve raised your daughter so well. Zoe is brilliant! The sky’s the limit for her!” “And it’s always easier when more people are there to support a child, don’t you think?” I wasn’t naive enough to believe she was as benevolent as she appeared. This was a formidable woman who had navigated the business world for decades. The family must have already done a private DNA test and confirmed Zoe was Leo’s daughter. They’d probably also consulted a lawyer and found out their chances of winning a custody case were slim. So, they settled for the next best thing: shared parenting. But if Leo ever got married and had another child, I wondered if they would still be this accommodating. “Ma’am, I respect my daughter’s wishes,” I said with a smile. “As long as she is willing to be close to you, I have no objections.” I knew my daughter. Her motto was “never turn down a free lunch.” Her other motto was “take the sugar coating, then fire back the cannonball.” I could already picture how frustrated the Jiang family was going to be. 5 With my approval, the family was eager to schedule a formal dinner to introduce themselves to Zoe. I told them I needed to talk to her first. “Of course. We’ll wait to hear from you.” After we exchanged numbers, she beamed and made a phone call. “You can come in now. Apologize properly to Ms. Hayes, and thank her.” A moment later, an awkward-looking Leo pushed open the door. He’d clearly been waiting in the car. He shot me a triumphant look, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. “You said she was your daughter alone, but in the end, you had to admit I’m her dad!” I gave a subtle eye-roll. A thirty-year-old man who still needed his parents to solve his problems and give him an allowance. What a man-child. Thank God Zoe didn’t inherit his brains.

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When the heir to the Thorne fortune, Julian Thorne, broke up with me, I cried my eyes out. He frowned, annoyed. “Are you really this in love with me?” Then he wired me ten million dollars as a breakup fee. I covered my mouth and ran away, sobbing. Everyone thought I was hopelessly devoted to him, a pathetic, obsessed simp. Until that night. My Finsta account was accidentally exposed. @NotYourBabe: “He’s as cold as a fish and as stubborn as a mule.” @NotYourBabe: “God, this idiot is so annoying.” @NotYourBabe: “FINALLY. Free at last,嘻嘻.” Julian, his face blank, crushed the glass in his hand. He sent me a text. “I’ll give you another ten million.” “You’d better pray I don’t catch you.” 1 Three weeks of dating, and Julian texted me to end it. I couldn’t just let it go. I ran to confront him. The VIP section of the club was dark and loud. In front of all his friends, I bit my lip, my voice cracking. “Babe, are you really doing this?” Julian leaned back on the velvet couch, a cigarette burning between his fingers. “Yeah. We’re done.” His voice was as cool as his posture. “No, please. Tell me what I did wrong. I’ll fix it.” I was pathetic, crying like a fool. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe. A few seconds of silence. Julian scowled and stubbed out his cigarette. He looked at my tear-filled eyes, a flicker of annoyance and… confusion… in his. “Are you really this in love with me?” I nodded, tears streaming. “More than anything, babe.” His scowl deepened, his lips pressing into a thin line. A moment later, my phone buzzed. A bank alert: $10,000,000.00. Julian looked away, his voice cold as he dismissed me. “That’s for your trouble. Forget me.” 2 For a second, all the color drained from my face. My body swayed. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” A fresh tear rolled down my cheek. I covered my mouth and ran, feeling the pitying stares of everyone in the booth. Behind me, I vaguely heard someone say, “Damn, Julian, paying her off like that? That’s brutal. A total humiliation for her.” “She looked like she was about to shatter.” “Should I go get the money back?” Julian’s voice, hesitant, drifted after me. …I ran faster. The night air was cold. I squatted under a streetlight, my face buried in my hands, eyelashes still damp. The System cleared its throat in my head. [Hey, kid. Don’t take it too hard. At least the mission is complete.] I lowered my hands and looked at the scrape on my arm. I got it a few days ago, tripping while bringing Julian his stupid craft-brewed-by-Tibetan-monks coffee. “Did I look like I was about to shatter?” I asked, my voice flat. “God, I feel so… misunderstood.” […What?] “Like a nun being accused of running a brothel,” I clarified. […] 3 The System finally rebooted. [Wait… you were faking it?!] “How’d I do? Oscar-worthy, right?” I stood up and stretched, the “heartbreak” gone. I’d died in a spectacular and embarrassing accident (don’t ask). A ‘Love System’ snagged my soul and brought me here, promising to send me back to my life if I completed one task: Successfully “conquer” a top-tier, high-quality man and stay in a relationship with him for at least three weeks. It picked the target for me: Julian Thorne. Heir to the Thorne conglomerate. Handsome, rich, and emotionally unavailable. Difficulty: five stars. I’d spent months trying to crack his code. I was relentless, devoted, playing the part of a woman desperately in love. Even the System thought my performance was real. But Julian remained a block of ice. Then, for no reason I could figure out, he suddenly agreed to date me. He was still cold. Wouldn’t even hold my hand. The entire relationship was me, the “obsessed simp,” doing all the work. Whatever. It didn’t matter. I pulled out my phone and smiled at the bank alert. “Hey, System? Can I take the cash with me?” [No.] …Great. All that acting. For nothing. 4 The System said it would take a few days to upload the mission data. Since I couldn’t keep the money, I decided to spend it. I rented a supercar. I moved into a glass-walled penthouse. I bought out half of Rodeo Drive. I was living my best, most obnoxious rich-person life. Tonight, I’d dressed to kill and gone clubbing. Coming out of the bathroom, I ran straight into one of Julian’s friends. “Nina? You here to see Julian?” “Nope, nope. We’re done, remember?” I tried to sidestep him. “Ouch. Rough, Nina. I’m sorry.” He gave me this pitying look, like he knew I was just putting on a brave face. “Hey, his childhood friend Chloe just flew in. We’re all in the VIP for her welcome-home party. C’mon, I’ll get you in.” He grabbed my arm and started pulling me, ignoring my protests. In the booth, Julian’s head snapped up. His face was tense. A very cute, bubbly girl was sitting right next to him. “You must be the ex-girlfriend,” she chirped. Then her face soured. “You pathetic simp. You deserved to get dumped. You’re not good enough for him. Stay away from Julian.” 5 “Sure, honey. You’re the one. You’re totally the one.” “Life is so boring, and then a toad hops up to critique a human.” My mission was over. I was done being nice. I plopped down on the couch, crossed my legs, and poured myself a drink. Chloe looked like I’d slapped her. She clutched her chest and fell sideways into Julian. “Julessss, she’s being mean to me.” Julian’s face darkened. He stood up. “Nina!” He looked like he was about to defend his precious Chloe. Chloe, having missed her target, stood up and tried to grab his arm. “Jules…” But Julian abruptly sat back down. He just stared at me, his face impassive, and said, “That was uncalled for.” …That’s it? The tension was so thick, one of his friends tried to break it. “Hey, c’mon, we’re all friends. Drink up!” “Chloe, don’t mind her, she’s just heartbroken.” “But she was mean to me first!” Chloe whined, her eyes filling with tears. She was so aggressively stupid, it was almost impressive. “Talking to you is a waste of my time. I’d rather be scrolling Twitter,” I said. “It’s one thing to play dumb, but don’t overdo it. You’re like a glitching NPC with amnesia.”

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1 In my last life, I had a fight with my billionaire boyfriend. The second I saw the positive pregnancy test, I ran. My best friend, Jessica, found me. She begged me to get an abortion, to “get rid of the bastard’s kid.” She didn’t take me to a real hospital. She took me to a shady, unlicensed clinic. I bled out on the table. Liam Sterling, my boyfriend, showed up too late. All he found was my body. He was the one who had me cremated. Not long after I died, Liam inherited his family’s hundred-billion-dollar fortune, becoming the world’s most eligible bachelor. I woke up, back in the present, staring at another positive test. As I was scheduling the abortion, tiny voices suddenly erupted in my head. “Oh, good. Great. The ‘runaway pregnant girl’ script. How original.” “Dad is the sole heir to a three-generation, hundred-billion-dollar fortune. You’re about to die on a table so your ‘best friend’ can slide into your spot. Then you’ll be a picture on the wall while they live happily ever after.” “How can one person be so stupid?” That last one stung. I was so angry I nearly choked. I was trying to eat takeout, and my anger was so intense that I snapped the plastic spoon in half. Another little voice immediately piped up. “If you went back to him right now, Dad would probably burst into tears of joy.” “Forget takeout. Your spoons would be made of solid gold. You’d be an instant billionaire.” This was insane! They were all insane! How… how could I have been so stupid? 2 “A woman with no backbone is just a doormat, Ava!” “You’re breaking up with Liam, and the first step is getting rid of that baby!” As soon as Jessica finished, the voices in my belly started again. “Yeah, yeah, you talk a big game. You’re just so jealous you’re about to pop. If Mom listens to you, she’ll be dead in three days.” I froze. What had I said in my last life? Oh, right. I’d gotten all fired up, marched right into that clinic with Jess, and declared that I didn’t care about money, only “true love.” “I was with Liam because I loved him, not for his money!” “Without love, this baby will never be happy!” I was such an idiot. I died without even seeing him one last time. The ten-million-dollar check he gave me when we fought, the two condos he put in my name… I didn’t take any of it. Stupid. So, so stupid. Remembering what happened next, I snapped back to reality. “I’m tired,” I said. Jessica’s smile froze, then cracked. She grabbed my arm, her composure slipping. “Tired of what? The most important thing right now is the abortion!” “Liam’s family is huge. When he finds you, he’s going to throw money at you to make you go away. He’ll humiliate you! You can’t be that weak woman!” She was pulling me toward the door. I took a step back. “Tomorrow.” “I haven’t slept in days. I’m just… so tired.” Jess’s eyes darted around, clearly frustrated, but she finally relented. “Fine.” Jess’s family was comfortable—way better off than mine—but compared to Liam’s family, they were nothing. The second I started dating Liam, she was in my ear, pushing me to break up with him. “You have to have some self-respect, Ava. Don’t be a gold digger.” “You can’t buy love. Rich guys just play with girls like you. You’re a toy.” “If you take his money, you’re no better than a mistress.” … This time, I didn’t go anywhere. I got back in bed. My two little passengers were stunned. “Whoa. Did Mom just get… smart?” “Doesn’t matter. That evil woman has Mom hidden away. Dad can’t find us.” Hearing that, I paused. I had no money. Jess was waiting to take me to that clinic, a one-way trip. My parents were poor, and I was their only kid… All that pride and “self-respect” Jess had force-fed me… it didn’t change the fact that what I needed most was money. You can’t let your pride get in the way of your survival. And I hadn’t even taken the money… I thought about my last life. About Jess and Liam’s “wedding of the century” after I was gone. The jewels, the estates, the cars. I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. I wasn’t hesitating anymore. I picked up my phone and dialed his number. He hadn’t blocked me. The twins went silent. The second he picked up, I swallowed hard. “Liam… I’m pregnant.” My palms were sweating. The line was dead quiet. I thought he didn’t believe me. “It’s yours. And it’s twins.” CRASH! I heard something shatter on his end. The twins in my stomach started screaming. “AAAAAAAAH! MOM SAID IT!” “SHE TOLD HIM!!” Liam’s voice came through the phone, rough and shaky. He sounded like he could barely hold the phone. “Ava. Where are you?” “I’m coming to get you.” I hung up, my hand on my stomach, my heart hammering. This time, I was having these babies. And I was going to find out just how “comforting” money could be. 3 That night was hell. I got up in the middle of the night for water and saw the light on in Jess’s room. She was in front of her mirror, laughing and crying to her reflection. “It’s such a shame, Liam. Ava was just so insistent on getting rid of it. She hates you… she always said you were beneath her…” “I tried to talk her out of it, I really did.” “She just wouldn’t…” My eyes widened. She was… practicing. She cried, then checked her reflection, tilting her chin. “This is my best angle for crying.” “As soon as Ava’s dead, I’ll have my chance. I’ll be there to ‘comfort’ Liam. I’ll take her place.” The twins were furious. “She’s already rehearsing the sequel!” “A little early for a victory lap. Mom getting back to Dad is just step one. This witch has a much bigger move planned.” A backup plan? I didn’t even think. I just raised my phone and hit record. I finally got back to sleep. The next morning, Jess was pounding on my door, telling me to hurry. I groggily checked my phone. A text from Liam. “Fifteen minutes out.” He’d sent it fifteen minutes ago. It was 7:30 AM. “Ava, let’s go! We have to get to the clinic!” “The faster this is over, the better! You hate it when Liam tries to buy you, right?” She was so frantic, but I was barely listening. The millions he’d wired to my account… I’d listened to her and sent it back. I’d even slapped him and told him not to “insult” me. The jewelry he sent… I’d refused it. I’d gone with Jess to a street fair and bought a five-dollar woven bracelet instead. Thinking about it made my toes curl. She always had a way of turning his kindness into an attack on my dignity. And I realized: she was just jealous. The knocking on my door got more frantic, but just as I went to open it, we heard a heavy pounding on the front door. Jess jumped, terrified. She hissed at me to hide. The twins went wild. “IT’S DAD!” Liam was here. Jess, panicking, saw the men in black suits behind him. She composed herself and blocked the doorway. “Liam! You’re here… for Ava?!” “She’s here! Just wait, I’ll go get her!” She slammed the door in his face and ran back to me, fumbling with her keys to lock the deadbolt. She grabbed me, her face a mask of panic. “Ava, Liam’s here!” “He brought a bunch of guys. He must know you’re pregnant.” “You’re a normal person. You don’t know what families like his will do. They won’t let you go! You have to run!” She shoved me toward the back stairs. “There’s a car waiting for you downstairs. It’ll take you somewhere safe.” I looked at the dark, terrifying stairwell. We were on the thirteenth floor. “Classic. She’s trying to separate them, create a ‘misunderstanding’!” “The second Mom gets in that car, the ‘driver’ will drug her, take her to the clinic, and get the ‘procedure’ done. When she’s dead, Jess will say Mom did it to herself. No witnesses. That evil bitch!” My palms were sweating. I wasn’t waiting. I shoved Jess aside and sprinted for the front door. I threw it open and launched myself straight into Liam’s arms, burying my face in his chest. “What took you so long?” I whimpered. Liam didn’t say a word. His arms just wrapped around me, pulling me tight. Jess came running up behind us, her face twisting in rage when she saw us. I caught her expression and smirked. Want to hurt me again, Jess? Not this time. 4 Liam put me in his car without giving Jess a second glance. As the bodyguard closed my door, Jess lunged, grabbing the handle. “Ava! Are you really going with him?” “Did you forget everything you said to me?!” Her voice was a threatening hiss. I paused, then gently pried her fingers off the door and pulled it shut. As the car pulled away, I snuggled into the warm coat Liam had brought for me. “I’m so happy for you, Jess. Really. You should be happy for me, too!” “What do you mean?! Yesterday you were screaming about getting an abortion!” Her shriek was cut off as the car accelerated, leaving her in a cloud of exhaust. As her words echoed, the temperature in the car dropped about twenty degrees. I felt Liam’s gaze burning into the side of my head. The twins started up again, this time in a stage whisper. “Ah, the great romance.” “One is emotionally constipated and loves her to death. The other is a clueless ditz who loves drama. This is our fate. This is our life.” I cleared my throat and finally met Liam’s intense gaze. “So… now what?” Given his family, this was a problem. We were from different worlds. I’d never really thought about a “future.” Liam’s expression was unreadable, which only made me more nervous. “Now,” he said, his voice flat. “You rest. And you grow the babies.” He was keeping them. I, and the two passengers in my stomach, let out a collective sigh of relief. “Yes! We live another day!” “Mom’s not an idiot this time!” We went from the car to a massive villa with a garden, and a full staff dedicated to my “diet and comfort.” I took a sip of the soup, looked at the feast laid out for me, and felt myself floating. All I had to do was relax and let Liam take care of me. But the twins wouldn’t shut up. “Mom’s not just going to sit back and enjoy this, is she?” “In a few days, Liam’s family is going to hate her. That snake Jess has a backup plan. She’s going to frame Mom for stealing company secrets and get her thrown out.” “Tragic.” …What? That was her backup plan? I was healthy, and the babies were fine. Liam started working from home to be with me. I didn’t understand any of the documents in his study, but the twins’ words made me sick with worry. That night, I turned to him in bed. “Liam… what if your parents find out? What if they… what if they make me leave? Or try to take the babies?” He looked at me, his expression softening. “They won’t make you leave.” I found out what he meant the next day. His mother, Mrs. Sterling, was even more intense than he was. She showed up with an entourage, carrying bags of jewelry, clothes, and even a box full of solid gold baby rattles. The moment she saw me, her eyes lit up. “My dear child! I saw the hospital report! Twins! And both so healthy!” She grabbed my hands, beaming. “Liam’s father and I met in college, just like you two! The Sterlings are one-track-minded. We’re built for love. Liam told us about you the day you started dating!” “He said he was dating you with the intention of marriage!” I was floored. The twins were ecstatic. “TWO heirs! To a hundred-billion-dollar fortune!” “If Mom hadn’t been an idiot… if we’d just been born… I can’t even imagine how happy we’d be!” “The whole family loves us. It was only Mom, obsessed with her stupid novels and listening to that witch, who kept insulting them. Calling them ‘soulless money-grubbers’ and refusing to even meet Grandma.” …Those words. I had said those things. Every gift Mrs. Sterling had sent via Liam, Jess had “counseled” me to reject. I’d thrown them out. I’d told him to stop “insulting my dignity.” And Liam… Liam had never told his mother what I’d done. He’d protected me. I couldn’t breathe. My face was burning. Never again. I am so done being a melodramatic idiot. I graciously accepted every single gift. Mrs. Sterling was delighted and invited me to the Sterling family dinner. The twins went nuts. “The family dinner! It’s the official announcement!” “We’re in! Mom has officially entered the fortress!” As Liam watched me, a small smile playing on his lips, my phone buzzed. It was Jess. I was about to ignore it, but then I saw the image she sent. “Ava? We need to talk.”

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At seventeen, Alex Thorne and I discovered we were living in a romance novel. He was the hero. I was just a background character. Alex tore the book to shreds, furious. “I don’t give a damn about being the hero! And I will never love anyone else!” At twenty-two, just as the book predicted, I had to leave the country. Alex stroked my hair, promising, “When you come back, we’ll get married.” At twenty-seven, I returned. To attend Alex’s wedding to the female lead. 01 The ceremony was in an hour. I stood in the hotel lobby, staring at the welcome sign. “Groom: Alex Thorne; Bride: Autumn Chi.” It felt like I was seventeen all over again, pulling an unmarked book from a library shelf, only to see the cover: “Hero: Alex Thorne; Heroine: Autumn Chi.” It was a Pandora’s box. I was terrified to look inside. “What’cha looking at?” The seventeen-year-old Alex appeared, leaning over my shoulder, his chin hovering just above it. “What idiot is using my name to write a novel?” He took the book and started flipping through it, muttering the whole time. “What kind of stupid name is Autumn? The person I like is named Cora.” “Cora… where’s my Cora…” His voice got quieter as he read, until his face was pale. The book, starting from when Alex was twenty-two, told the story of his epic romance with the heroine. Everything in it, aside from the future parts, was a perfect match for our reality. And his Cora… was just a name in a flashback. “I don’t give a damn about being the hero! And I will never love anyone else!” Alex’s eyes were red. He ripped the book apart with trembling hands. “Cora, don’t believe it. That person… it’s not me.” I couldn’t say anything. Seventeen-year-old Alex held me, his voice choked with sobs and anger. “I hate the fall.” “Cora, from now on, I hate autumn.” … The boy’s pained voice faded, replaced by the lobby’s bustle. I came back to myself. Sunlight was streaming onto my shoulder. I looked out the window. Of course. It’s autumn. 02 “An autumn wedding. It’s too hot for this.” An older woman fanned herself as she walked into the hotel, complaining to her friend. “And did you see the date? It’s not exactly a lucky day. What was the Thorne family thinking…?” “It’s just Alex being in a hurry to get married. I heard he proposed five times before she finally said yes!” Her companion looked proud to have the gossip. “The Thornes have had this wedding planned for years. The moment she agreed, they put it together in a week.” “Wow. He must really be in love with that Autumn girl…” Their voices faded down the hall. I couldn’t help but remember. How much did the Alex in the book love Autumn? Enough to start planning their wedding six months after meeting her. Enough that, even though the love was mutual, he was so scared of losing her that he spent five years carefully maneuvering his way into her life. He was never a patient person. He was all impulse and swagger. He loved her so much… he completely forgot… Seventeen, picking up a shredded piece of the book. On a blank corner, he had childishly scribbled: “I, Alex Thorne, hereby warn all authors: 1. Alex does not want to be the hero. 2. The only person Alex loves is named Cora Lin. 3. … ” “This is not subject to change. Alex will only ever, ever love Cora!” … “Mommy, what does that say?” A little girl was pointing at the welcome sign. I followed her finger to the elegant script at the bottom: “We invite you to witness the ceremony that marks our lifelong decision. — Alex & Autumn” 03 Fifteen minutes had passed. I was still standing there, unable to take that first step. “Cora.” A familiar voice behind me. I turned, and my arm was instantly grabbed. “It really is you… Cora, you’re finally back.” I was pulled into a fragile, familiar hug. A choked sob sounded in my ear. My throat burned. “Mrs. Thorne…” Alex’s mother let out a small, broken sound, then quickly covered her mouth. “It’s… it’s my fault, Cora. I’m so sorry…” After graduation, at Alex’s 18th birthday party. He’d invited me to his house. We walked in the door and ran right into his mother. “Mom, I’d like you to meet your future daughter-in-law, Cora Lin.” Alex slung his arm around my shoulder, proud and confident. “Cora, this is our mom, your future mother-in… oomph!” I’d stood on my toes to cover his mouth, just as his mother rapped him on the forehead. Amidst Alex’s yelp of pain, we all froze for a second, then looked at each other and laughed. That was the first time I met her. It set the tone for every visit after: Alex causing chaos, me trying to contain him, and his mother cleaning up the mess. And in the end, we were always laughing. On my 20th birthday, she gave me the Thorne family locket. She’d promised me, her voice firm: “Cora, if Alex ever does you wrong, I’m kicking him out of this house and disowning him.” Now, she was telling me she was sorry. I hugged her back, patting her shoulder. All I could say was a thin echo of her own words: “It’s not your fault, Mrs. Thorne.” 04 She pulled away first. “Cora, this isn’t the place to catch up.” She quickly wiped her eyes, regaining her composure. “It’s hot out here. Come in, please. Sit down.” I let her lead me by the hand, and before I knew it, I was inside the ballroom. We only took two steps before she stopped, her voice suddenly tense. “Cora… don’t misunderstand…” I looked up, confused, and saw the wedding decor. Golden ears of wheat and bright sunflowers were mixed with flowers in every shade of autumn, creating a romantic, rustic field. Scarecrows stood guard. Baskets of fruit and vegetables were artfully arranged. A crescent moon hung over the stage. It was like a Van Gogh painting. It was like walking out of autumn and straight into… autumn. I stopped breathing. “Cora, please, the timing was just too tight. This was a design Alex commissioned years ago, we didn’t have time to change it…” I gripped her hand, cutting her off. “Mrs. Thorne, where is Alex right now?” “Cora…” I stared at the stage. At the very tip of the crescent moon, a single, perfect ear of wheat was placed. Maybe a grain of wheat fell from God’s hand and the wind just blew it there? Clutching that impossible hope, I asked again. “Where is he?” She was silent. Finally, she sighed. “He and Autumn are taking photos… They’re in room 1019.” I turned and ran. As the noise and colors blurred past me, I had the strangest feeling. My seventeen-year-old Alex was waiting for me.

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A “Finding Mom” video went viral online. A five or six-year-old boy, standing in front of a backdrop of yellow earth, sang “Mommy, where did you go?” His eyes were filled with tears, a truly pitiful sight. Kind-hearted netizens helped in the search. Celebrities and influencers posted, “Come home, little boy’s mom! Your child misses you!” urging their followers to help. Finally, someone found the mother’s address and posted her information online. Just as everyone was cheering for the successful search, for the family reunion, for the child’s suffering to finally be over, my doorbell rang. The boy from the video, along with his father, his grandmother, and a crowd of reporters, appeared at my door. 1 The child was even thinner and smaller than in the video. When he saw me open the door, he rushed in wildly and clung to my leg. “Mommy! I finally found you! I looked for you for so long! I was so scared I’d never see you again!” He burst into tears, as if to pour out all the suffering of his search and his longing for his mother. “Mommy, I missed you so much! Grandma and Daddy missed you too! This is great, we’re finally all together again!” Not a single reporter on the scene was unmoved. I looked down at the live stream open on my phone. The topic was already number one on the hot search list. And in the camera’s lens, I stood, a cold and out-of-place figure in this supposedly heartwarming scene. The audience’s comments were a one-sided attack: [This isn’t what I imagined. Shouldn’t a mother and son cry and hug when they’re reunited?] [As a mom, I can’t stand seeing kids cry. The way he sang in that video broke my heart. Seeing his mom’s reaction makes it even worse.] [Chen Xiaohan, do you even have a heart? Your child is crying his eyes out, and you won’t even hug him!] [I say we dox Chen Xiaohan and ruin her reputation! Make it impossible for her to live in the city! Then she’ll have to go back with her kid, and the family can be whole again!] … A reporter shoved a microphone right in my face. “Ms. Chen! Xiao Bao is such a good, sweet boy. How could you have been so cruel as to abandon him back then?” “This video has been trending for days. You didn’t even come forward. Don’t you feel any guilt?” “This child has been kneeling and hugging you for so long, and you’re still completely cold! Ms. Chen, are you a mother? Are you even human?” One heavy accusation after another pushed the atmosphere, both on-site and in the live stream, to a fever pitch. Hundreds of thousands of viewers flooded the stream. I watched the numbers climb, my fists clenched tightly. It’s not enough. This still isn’t enough! With everyone staring at me, I let out a cold laugh. “What makes you so sure I’m this child’s mother?” “My personal information is all over the internet. What makes you think that I, a graduate from the Central University of Finance and Economics, would marry someone from a remote mountain village?” “Let’s take a step back. Do you have the child’s birth certificate? A marriage certificate? Do they have my name, Chen Xiaohan, written on them?” 2 The online comments paused for a moment. The reporters looked at each other, nonplussed. From the very beginning, they had only heard one side of the story—Xiao Bao’s family’s side. They had none of the documents I’d asked for. [Wait, I’m kind of convinced. If Chen Xiaohan gave birth to Xiao Bao, she would have had to be pregnant at 18, right? She would have still been in high school!] [Look at their faces! They look identical! If they’re not mother and son, I’ll eat my keyboard.] [She’ll say anything to disown her child. Look at poor Xiao Bao. He’s crushed.] [But they had a photo when the search started! It was Chen Xiaohan! She’s still trying to lie!] I sneered. “There are plenty of people in the world who look alike. Aren’t you afraid you found the wrong mom?” The reporter hesitated, turning to the boy. “Xiao Bao, is she your mommy?” “Could you be mistaken? Chen Xiaohan is only 24. You’re 5. If she had you in her senior year of high school, she couldn’t have possibly gotten into a top university like CUFE.” Xiao Bao immediately stood up and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m not wrong! This is my mommy!” He clung to me, refusing to let go. The old woman and Zhang Qiang, who had been silent until now, began their attack. The grandmother wailed for the camera. “Daughter-in-law! I know the city is tempting! But when you married into our family, we asked you, and you agreed!” “We spent money on a wedding banquet for you! We gave you gifts! How can you just disown us like this?” She took out an old phone and played a video. The video quality was poor, blurry, but you could still make out the smiling bride. It was me. Looking closer, you could see the bride’s stomach was slightly rounded. She was clearly a few months pregnant. The netizens exploded. [My God! I actually believed her for a second! These honest country people wouldn’t lie!] [Look at the kid! Xiao Bao is hysterical! His own mother disowning him… this is too tragic.] [Some people are just born without a human heart. You need to use extreme measures for people like her. Dox her! Now!] … The grandmother choked on a sob. “Xiaohan, Mom doesn’t blame you. Just come home. The whole family needs you.” “Look how much the boy misses you! How can you be so heartless?” “The corn at home is all ripe. I promise, you won’t go hungry!” Zhang Qiang, in his wheelchair, added painfully, “Wife, the baby and I can’t live without you. If there’s anything you don’t like about me, I’ll change! I’ll change everything!” “Just come back, and we’ll be the happiest family in the world!” I scoffed. “You people are ridiculous.” “That video is so blurry you can’t even see the person clearly, and you say it’s me?” “Do you really think playing the sympathy card will make everyone support you?” “I’ve already called the police. Harassing a resident… do you think the law doesn’t exist?” 3 At my words, their faces changed. The reporter said angrily, “We’re just trying to help a child find his family. How can you be so cruel?” The live stream viewers had now swelled to over a million. Even official government media accounts had entered the stream to watch. My heart pounded. I was waiting for the police. Zhang Qiang’s eyes darted around, and then he pointed at my chest and shouted. “You’re not going to give up, are you?” “You have a birthmark on your chest! A face can look similar, but can a birthmark?” “All you have to do is pull off her shirt, and you’ll know if she’s my wife!” The stream’s chat lit up with gifts and jeers. [Wow, she won’t do it. Confirmed: heartless mother.] [A disobedient woman needs to be beaten. Zhang Qiang is too soft on her.] [Someone needs to teach her a lesson for the child’s sake. She won’t even let her family in!] Zhang Qiang wheeled himself forward and, before I could react, yanked my collar open. He froze. “Where’s the birthmark?” The reporters were also stunned. A moment ago, they had been convinced. But now, the “proof” Zhang Qiang spoke of was nowhere to be found. “Mr. Zhang… are you sure you have the right person?” “Do you have any ID, any documents at all?” “Or just tell us the hospital where he was born! With this many people watching, the hospital could check its records!” I, too, looked at the three of them, curious to see how they’d answer. After all, I had searched for years and never found a birth certificate. The old woman trembled, then burst into tears. “What documents! Xiao Bao was born at home!” “We’re poor! We live in the mountains! The hospital is too far! We’d never make it in time!” “You city people talk so easily! Have you ever thought about us, the people in the gullies?” “We sold everything we had, spent all our money, just to come here and find you for Xiao Bao’s sake!” “How can you say such things? You’re breaking our hearts! You’re breaking the hearts of all the poor farmers struggling to get by!” The reporter was shamed into silence. Xiao Bao, hearing his grandma, screamed at the camera. “Mommy! I’ll save all my yummy food for you! Please come home!” “This family can’t be without you! I can’t be without you!” Zhang Qiang, seeing his son, also began to cry. “Xiaohan, I won’t force you. If you won’t admit it, fine. But can you at least let Xiao Bao stay here?” “He’s your son! Can you really stand to hear him crying for ‘mommy’ in his sleep?” “I can live without a wife, but Xiao Bao can’t live without a mother!” He kneeled before me. “Wife, if you don’t love me anymore, you don’t have to come back.” “Just let my mom and Xiao Bao stay. I’ll go. I won’t be a burden. But the child is innocent!” The live stream was now at ten million viewers. The reporter, excited, pushed me to agree. “Ms. Chen, Mr. Zhang has compromised this much! Are you still going to deny it?” “Look at the comments! This is the ending everyone wants!” At that moment, my phone rang. It was my boss. “Chen Xiaohan, that ‘finding mom’ story is huge. Our clients are calling me about it.” “Admit you’re the mother. Now. Spin this into a heartwarming story.” “Your husband said you don’t even have to go back. Just keep the kid.” “The stream has ten million viewers! Do it! It’s great PR for the company!” “Your promotion or your termination depends on what you do next.” He hung up. I glanced at the viewer count, then at the people in front of me. Zhang Qiang, hopeful. The grandmother, weeping. Xiao Bao, who whispered, his voice only for me, “Mommy, you have to be good. Daddy breaks the legs of people who aren’t good.” I saw the police officers who had just arrived. I pinched the flesh of Xiao Bao’s arm, hard, and spoke calmly. “No marriage certificate. No birth certificate. They didn’t know the mother’s address, and at first, they didn’t even know her name. Doesn’t that seem strange?” “Am I really so stupid that I would fly 5 hours away to a remote village to get married while I was in high school?” “Or maybe… behind this ‘search for mom’… is a much more cruel truth?” “I am not his mother. His mother is already dead!” 4 The moment I finished, Xiao Bao shrieked in pain. He finally let go of me and, just like his father, began to kowtow on the floor. “Mommy, don’t curse yourself! Don’t say you’re dead!” “If you don’t want us, we’ll go! Just don’t curse yourself!” Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound of his small forehead hitting the floor echoed in everyone’s hearts. A woman had arrived with the police—Aunty Wang, from the neighborhood committee. She knew my situation better than anyone. But now, she rushed forward, pulling Xiao Bao up, her face a mask of sympathy. “Good boy, don’t cry. You tell Aunty what you need. I’m from the committee, I’ll help you.” She turned to me. “Xiaohan! Can’t you just talk to them? Why are you bullying a small child?” “I saw the live stream! They have photos! The boy is a carbon copy of you! And you’re still hung up on ‘paperwork’? What are you trying to prove? That you’re an educated intellectual and they’re illiterate?” “They’re simple country folk! They don’t understand your city ways! All they know is that this child wants his mother!” An officer gently tried to calm her down. Aunty Wang, displeased, quieted down but continued to hug Xiao Bao, glaring at me. This, I supposed, was human nature. Everyone sympathizes with the weak—the harmless child, the disabled man, the old woman. Aunty Wang’s words sent the chat into another frenzy. [I’m so disappointed. I thought there was a twist. But the neighborhood committee is on the family’s side. It’s confirmed. She’s the mom.] [That poor boy. His mother is a monster. I hope she gets hit by a car!] [I’ve seen it all today. Chen Xiaohan’s skin is thicker than a city wall! When she’s cornered, she curses herself to death. She’s ruthless!] … The officer, “Officer Li,” sighed. “Ms. Chen, you called us. But this situation has a massive public profile. We need you to come to the station to cooperate with our investigation.” “Of course, if what you’re saying is true, we will also issue a formal warning to those spreading rumors.” Just then, new “evidence” appeared online. People from the village had posted a “high-definition” photo of the mother. [I was the one who delivered Xiao Bao. This photo was taken right after he was born. Take a look. Is this Chen Xiaohan or not?] The woman in the photo was disheveled, holding a baby. It was much clearer than the wedding video. Aside from the fatigue and messy clothes, she looked identical to me. [When Zhang Qiang was sick, Chen Xiaohan took care of him. I filmed it, I was so moved. I can’t believe she’s acting like this now.] A short video played, showing the woman from the photo, holding the baby, dutifully caring for a man in a hospital bed. More and more “villagers” posted photos, swearing I had lived there, that I was a hardworking wife, and that this new “city” version of me was a complete, monstrous change. Aunty Wang saw this and puffed up with self-righteousness, blocking the police officers. “Officer Li, don’t stop me. I am here representing this community and all good-hearted people!” “I’ve seen too many women like Chen Xiaohan. Gold-digging, heartless, disgusting!” “Don’t tell me you weren’t willing! With Zhang Qiang’s physical condition, how could you have gotten pregnant if you weren’t willing?” “You’re an irresponsible animal! You abandon your own child! You’re worse than scum!” “Officer Li, the facts are clear! Taking her to the station will just be a slap on the wrist! It won’t work on people like her!” “This kind of person needs to be taught a lesson… by society!” The crowd was surging, angry. Officer Li couldn’t control the scene and called for backup. Xiao Bao, his eyes red and swollen, stood in front of the crowd. “Don’t blame my mommy! It must be because I’m a bad boy that she doesn’t want me!” “Mommy, I’ll be good! I’ll cook and wash clothes! I’ll listen to you! Please don’t disown me!” He was so “understanding” it was heartbreaking. My own neighbors started trying to convince me. Xiao Bao glanced back at me, a flash of triumph in his teary eyes. He mouthed the words silently: “Mommy. This is the price for not obeying.” I couldn’t breathe. So this is what it felt like to be completely alone. Even the police were neutralized. Everyone was just waiting for me to give in. Then, a shout from the crowd: “Chen Xiaohan’s parents are here!” Two gray-haired, elderly people pushed through. My father marched up to me and slapped me across the face. “You disgrace! Your own son is here, and you still deny him?” “Are you trying to ruin this family’s reputation?” I looked at my furious parents, and I smiled. Good. Now everyone was finally here.

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I woke up and did what I always do: burrowed straight into the warmth of the man beside me. “Honey, cuddles,” I mumbled into his chest. He went completely rigid. “Ms. Hayes, please. Control yourself.” My eyes snapped open. Right. I’d forgotten. Julian was deep-fielding a case of amnesia. He had zero memory of the last three years—our entire marriage. Just as the familiar sting of rejection set in, text popped up in my vision, floating over the headboard like a bizarre, augmented-reality feed. 【Yeah right, “control yourself.” Dude’s pitching a tent you could camp in.】 【LOL, who’s he kidding? We all know the hoops he jumped through to lock down this marriage.】 【He’s been obsessed with her for years and now he won’t even admit it. Pathetic.】 【God, I hope she teaches this pretentious jerk a lesson.】 I blinked, the live commentary fading, and looked back at Julian. A slow smile spread across my face. “Oh, my mistake,” I said, sliding out of bed. “Wrong guy.” 1 Julian’s blank expression faltered. “What does that mean?” I walked to the nightstand and pulled out a file. I handed him the top sheet. “Our contract. Signed three years ago. We’re an alliance, a merger of families. Not a marriage.” The clauses were painfully clear: No interference in personal lives. Separate finances. Public appearances as required. It all pointed to one fact: we were strangers who happened to share a house. He gripped the paper, his face a mask of cold professionalism. “So, you see,” I said, pulling on a robe, “even with the amnesia, it doesn’t change anything. We don’t really know each other.” I left the room, but the commentary followed me. 【”Don’t know each other”? Then what do you call those nights you were screaming his name?】 【Right. Total strangers who just happen to have memorized every inch of each other’s bodies.】 【LMAO, he’s already grabbing his phone. Bet he’s searching ‘my wife’s other husband.’】 The text made my cheeks burn. They weren’t wrong. We were a classic case of “started as a business deal, ended in love.” Three years ago, I’d just ended things with my high-school sweetheart, Evan. I was cynical and done with love. When my family pushed for an alliance with the Hayes family, I agreed. Julian Hayes was the perfect candidate. He’s the one who suggested the contract, promising he’d never interfere in my life. A marriage of convenience. It worked for me. For the first two years, we were polite roommates. We slept in separate wings of the house. That changed on a business trip to Japan. We were caught in an earthquake. The ceiling of our hotel room collapsed. When I woke up in the hospital, my head was bandaged, and Julian was gripping my hand so hard his knuckles were white. His eyes were shot with red. He just kept whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t protect you.” The raw, unfiltered despair in his eyes—like losing me was a possibility his soul couldn’t handle—cracked something open in my chest. After that, we started trying. And it turned out, we were incredibly compatible. We fell into a deep, real love. Until two weeks ago, when a truck ran a red light and T-boned his car. Now, he’s back to “Mr. Hayes.” But according to this new, magical live commentary, he’d been faking it from the start? Not the love—the indifference. If that was true, he was a hell of an actor. And I couldn’t wait to see what else I didn’t know. 2 We ate breakfast at opposite ends of our twenty-foot dining table, in complete silence. Our housekeeper, Maria, kept shooting us worried looks. As I headed for the door, she hurried over. “Ma’am, you didn’t… you’re not doing Mr. Hayes’s tie today?” I glanced at Julian, who was already standing by the door, his tie perfect. “Looks like he handled it himself.” The second the words left my mouth, Julian, without changing his stoic expression, reached up and yanked the knot completely sideways. “It’s… not quite right,” he said stiffly. 【HAHAHA, busted! He just shot himself in the foot.】 【Amnesia and he’s still finding excuses to have her touch him. You’re not slick, buddy!】 I met his gaze. He looked away, clearing his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind.” I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I walked over, standing close, and started re-doing the knot. He was rigid as a board. This was new, and I was enjoying it. So I did the most logical thing. I finished the tie, stood on my toes, and gave him a quick, soft kiss on the lips. Julian’s pupils dilated. He literally stopped breathing. I leaned in close, whispering in his ear, “Don’t overthink it. Just keeping up appearances for the staff.” He managed a strangled, “…Right.” As I walked out the door, the commentary was exploding. 【Externally: Cool as a cucumber. Internally: Freaking out like a teen on prom night.】 【HE’S SMILING! THE CEO IS GRINNING LIKE AN IDIOT!】 【Eliza: breathes. Julian: She’s a master of seduction.】 【Aaaaand his good mood just earned a clumsy VP his job. Three years married, and he’s still this down bad.】 【Well, he won’t be smiling for long. His old rival, Evan, flies in tonight.】 Right on cue, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. 【Eliza, it’s me. Can we meet?】 3 Evan and I grew up together. We were the textbook “friends to lovers” story. Everyone assumed we’d get married. Until college, when I started seeing pictures of another girl on his feed. It was a long, slow, agonizing breakup. By the end, I was hollow. After the drama, I got married. He got shipped off to the family’s Singapore branch. I couldn’t imagine what he’d have to say to me now. I blocked the number and focused on work. Julian’s accident had put me weeks behind. At 7:30 PM, a text came through from Julian. 【Maria is asking if you’ll be home for dinner.】 The commentary immediately popped up. 【Translation: I’M asking. He’s been staring at his chat window for an hour, debating what to text.】 【He’s been sitting on the living room sofa since he got home. He’s like a golden retriever waiting by the door.】 【Amnesia Julian is somehow even more adorable. This is killing me.】 I had at least three more hours of work. I texted back: 【Working late. Don’t wait up for me.】 I paused, then added: 【You should rest. You’re still recovering.】 He didn’t reply. By the time I left the office, it was almost midnight. As I walked out of the lobby, I saw someone leaning against a pillar. Evan. He looked up, his expression complicated. “Eliza. Long time.” He gestured to the empty lobby. “Figured you were swamped, so I didn’t go up.” I had no interest in reminiscing. “What do you want, Evan?” He looked… older. More polished. But his eyes were still locked on me in that same intense way I used to find captivating and now just found exhausting. “I just wanted to talk,” he said, his voice rough. 【Don’t do it, Eliza! Julian’s face is turning blacker than the sky!】 【Ohhhh shit, he came to pick her up and walked right into this. He’s going to commit a felony!】 【FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!】 4 I turned. Julian was walking toward us, his face dark. He didn’t even look at Evan. He just draped his coat over my shoulders and slid a possessive arm around my waist, pulling me against his side. “I’m here to take you home.” The air crackled. Neither man spoke, but the veins popping on the backs of their hands said everything. I made my choice. I leaned into Julian, looping my arm through his. “Thanks, honey,” I smiled up at him. “Let’s go home.” Julian’s expression softened almost instantly. The second we were in the car, I pulled away. “You can drive.” He glanced at my arm, which was no longer holding his, and his jaw tightened. The computer screen had fried my brain. I yawned, and a single tear squeezed from the corner of my eye. I leaned against the window and was asleep before we hit the highway. … I woke up in my own bed. Julian was gone. The other side of the bed was cold, the pillows untouched. He hadn’t slept here at all. The commentary helpfully supplied the answer. 【Eliza’s fast asleep, meanwhile Julian’s been brooding in his study all night.】 【He saw the tear track on her face and thought she was crying over Evan. LMAO.】 【He’s 100% convinced they’re getting back together.】 【Seriously, Julian? She’s not divorcing you. Who else is gonna put up with your moody ass?】 Oh, for God’s sake. I got up and went downstairs to find him. Maria informed me he’d already left for the office.

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My fiancé, Julian, returned from his three-month vanishing act with his “true love” in tow. That’s fine. I also came back with a man who claims he can’t live without me. When he saw my fiancé, his eyes welled up. He leaned into me, his voice a bitter, fearful whisper. “Sloane, am I… am I making things awkward? The way he’s looking at me is terrifying.” Later, at the gala, the two of them had words. They both ended up in the ornamental pool. When Silas was pulled out, he collapsed into my arms, shivering. “Sloane,” he wept, “I don’t understand why he pushed me. What did I do wrong? He knows I can’t swim.” He buried his face in my shoulder. “If he hates me that much, I… I’ll just go. I’ll leave.” 1 I hadn’t even made it back to my penthouse before I heard the news: Julian Thorne was back, and he’d brought a stray. The story was all over Page Six in less than twelve hours. The entire East Coast was waiting for the Hayes family to become a laughingstock. My engagement to Julian was a legacy arrangement, set in stone since we were kids. We were supposed to get married after I returned from my first major overseas assignment. That was five years ago. But our “war”—the ruthless expansion of our family’s holdings—kept pulling me away. I spent those five years in the corporate trenches of Asia and Europe, barely ever returning to NewYork. The wedding, naturally, never happened. This year, with the markets finally stable, was supposed to be the perfect time. And now he pulls this. Honestly, it’s better he showed his hand before the contracts were signed. A scandal after the merger would have been infinitely messier. I was driving the convertible, top-down. From the passenger seat, a voice. “Sloane? Is this really New York?” A pale hand, adorned with intricate silver rings, reached out into the wind. A moment later, I heard the delicate clinking of metal on metal. Silas leaned out, staring up at the skyline. He was dressed in what looked like layered silks and handcrafted leather, dripping with so much silver and turquoise jewelry he chimed when he moved. His amber-colored eyes were wide. Silas was… an acquisition. While hunting down a con artist who’d fled to the desert, I took a shortcut, my SUV went off a ridge, and I woke up in a cot with a concussion. He’d found me. The head injury gave me temporary amnesia. For a month, I lived in his bizarre, isolated artist commune, thinking we were… well, I wasn’t sure. But he took care of me. When my security team finally found me and my memory returned, I was ready to leave. He wasn’t. He clung to me, weeping. He said he’d “nursed me back to health,” that he’d “given me his innocence” (I seriously doubt that), and that everyone in the commune now saw us as a pair. If I left, he claimed, their bizarre customs (which I’d never seen) dictated he’d be “shunned” and exiled to the mountains to fend for himself. My head of security, trying to shut him up, snapped that I was engaged. This only made Silas cry harder. “I don’t care! I’ll just be near her. I’ll be her assistant. Her… her servant. Sloane, please. I’ll be so quiet.” I knew he was lying. Their “customs” were weird, but those people didn’t just respect Silas; they revered him. They treated him like some kind of prophet-artist. They weren’t shunning him anywhere. And given the sheer weight of gold and silver he wore daily, he could sell one bracelet and live comfortably for a decade. He just… really wanted to come. But I brought him with me. Why? Because he was a fantastic actor. And because when I said no, he just started following my convoy on foot, crying. It was pathetic, and frankly, hilarious. 2 I had my security team blast our arrival on social media, complete with geotags at the family estate. The message was clear: I brought a man back, too. I parked the car and tapped the passenger door. “We’re here, Silas.” He clinked and clattered, getting tangled in his elaborate outfit and the seatbelt. “Sloane, I’m stuck,” he whined. “There’s just… so much stuff.” “I told you to put the necklaces in your carry-on.” I sighed and leaned over to help untangle him. “Sloane Hayes! What the hell are you doing?” I looked up. Julian Thorne, just arriving, was stalking toward us, his face thunderous. I pulled Silas free. “I’m unbuckling my passenger.” From an outside perspective, I suppose it looked intimate. My body halfway in the car, his face inches from mine. “He doesn’t have hands?” Julian snapped. Silas visibly flinched, shrinking back. “Sloane, please don’t fight with… with him… because of me. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have worn all the jewelry you gave me. I just… I loved it so much, I couldn’t bear to pack it away.” He looked at Julian, his eyes brimming with tears. “Sir, please don’t misunderstand. I’m… I’m nobody to her.” I watched Julian’s jaw clench. “Silas isn’t nobody,” I said, my voice sharp. “He saved my life. I owe him.” Silas tugged my sleeve, whispering just loud enough for Julian to hear. “Sloane, don’t. What if he gets the wrong idea? He’ll be angry.” “No, he won’t,” I said coolly. “He’ll understand.” The one-two punch left Julian speechless. 3 Later, in the study, Julian made his case. “I brought someone back,” he said, “Lila. She… she also saved my life. Her family is gone, so I’m taking responsibility for her.” “The rumors are just that. Rumors. There’s nothing unprofessional between us.” I just sipped my whiskey. “Go on.” “I know you have a lot of… clothes. And jewelry. Things you never wear, things your mother buys you that just sit in a vault.” He was hedging. “Lila comes from nothing. She doesn’t own anything nice. With gala season starting, I was hoping you could… lend her some things. And maybe, you know, take her under your wing. Show her the ropes.” I had to set my glass down. Was he insane? Or had that “disappearance” cost him his brain? “No,” I said flatly. “I don’t think so.” Just then, the door burst open. Silas ran in, the sound of his jewelry like wind chimes. “Sloane! Look! Do you like my hair like this?” He’d taken down his elaborate braids and was trying to figure out how to use one of my diamond hairpins. He was like a beautiful, exotic bird playing with a mirror. I propped my chin on my hand, watching him. He really was stunning. That androgynous, otherworldly beauty that designers went crazy for. I turned back to Julian, who looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. “You’re too late,” I said. “I gave all my extra pieces to Silas.” “He’s so beautiful, and he appreciates pretty things. They look better on him anyway.” Julian’s eyes bugged out. “You what? Those are your mother’s! That’s a billion-dollar collection! I’ve asked to borrow a set for my own sisters and you’ve refused! You’re giving it to… to him?” I loved my jewelry. I loved just looking at it. And Julian knew it. Which made his request for this “Lila” all the more insulting. He was clearly here to provoke me. Silas, sensing the tension, immediately started his act. “Oh, Sloane,” he said, his voice trembling. “I shouldn’t have taken them. I’ll… I’ll give them back to… to this gentleman.” He fumbled, pretending to pull the pins from his hair. I grabbed his hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. You need to look good for the parties, too.” Julian was vibrating. “You can’t forget our engagement, Sloane. I am your fiancé. And you’re acting like this, with him, right in front of me?” I raised an eyebrow. “Like what, Julian? I’m just being nice to my… friend.” “He’s my savior. I’m indebted to him. I’m taking him in, giving him a place to stay. You, of all people, should understand that.” “Are you… jealous? You don’t have siblings, do you?” Silas chimed in, “Sloane, am I in the way? He looks so… angry. It’s scary.” “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “He’s just got a bad temper. Not sweet and kind, like you.” Julian looked like he was going to faint. 4 The invitations and charity gala requests flooded in. I only accepted the ones I couldn’t avoid. I brought Silas to the Met Gala. He, of course, was in his element, whispering about the art. I was catching up with some old-money friends I actually liked when Julian arrived. He had a woman on his arm—Lila. Dressed in a simple pink dress, she looked… terrified. She clung to his arm, her head down. The act… it was almost identical to Silas’s. I glanced at Silas. He caught my look and gave me a wicked, private smirk. “God, Julian is shameless,” one of my friends muttered. “He hasn’t even finalized the merger with you, and he’s parading his mistress around.” Silas nodded gravely. “He really is.” “And that girl. No self-respect. She knows he’s engaged.” Silas: “She really doesn’t.” “Pathetic, both of them.” Silas: “So pathetic.” I shot him a “zip it” look. He just smiled, all innocence. Julian spotted us and steered Lila our way. “Sloane. I’d like you to meet Lila. The woman who saved my life.” He emphasized the “saved my life” part, as if it were a trump card. “Lila, this is Sloane Hayes, my fiancée. You can call her…” “You’re gorgeous,” Lila interrupted, staring at me. Julian paused. I gave her a polite nod. Her face flushed bright red. Julian gritted his teeth. “You can call her ‘Sloane,’ like a friend.” My friends bristled. He was using this nobody to claim a familiarity he hadn’t earned. “Ms. Hayes is fine,” I said. “We just met.” Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Whatever you say!” Julian looked frustrated. “This… person… you brought gets to call you Sloane.” Silas immediately drooped. “I’m sorry, am I… am I bothering everyone? Sir, I don’t know why you’re so angry with me. I… I don’t have any family. Sloane is all I have.” “If you hate me,” he whispered, “I can just… go back to the desert…” Julian was stuck. He looked around. Everyone was glaring at him. Even Lila. “Julian,” I said, “can you please not be so petty?” “Me? Petty?” he sputtered. Just as he spoke, Silas stepped forward. “Sir, Julian, please don’t be upset. I only think of Sloane as a…” He paused, then hit the killing blow. “…as a big sister.” The word “sister” made Julian see red. He spun around, yanking his arm away in disgust. “Don’t call me that! I’m not your brother, you goddamn…” His movement was sharp. Too sharp. Silas, who was just slightly too close, went flying backward, crashing into a champagne tower. Glass shattered everywhere. Silas cried out in pain. Julian froze, staring at his own hand. He hadn’t pushed him. He’d just… gesticulated. I held back my smile and rushed to Silas’s side. He shot me a look—it took you long enough—and grabbed my arm. “Julian… why?” he choked out, “Why do you hate me this much?” “I always envied you,” he wept. “You have everything. A family, wealth… and Sloane. I have nothing. I just wanted to be near her.” Julian was dumbfounded. “I didn’t touch him! I just pulled my arm away! He… he threw himself!” “You’re saying Silas threw himself into a glass tower?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “Why would he do that?” “Sloane, he’s lying! I’m telling you…” “He saved my life, Julian. And all you’ve done is bully him. You owe him an apology.” Julian looked at Lila. “Lila! You were standing right there. Tell them. I didn’t push him.” Lila looked like a deer in headlights. This wasn’t in her script. “Don’t threaten her,” I snapped. “Lila, just tell the truth. No one will blame you.” Lila looked at me, her eyes shining. “I… I didn’t really see. I just… I looked, and he was flying.” Julian was officially cooked. He stormed out, leaving a trail of whispers and broken glass.

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My sister and I woke up on the same day: the day we were chosen from the group home by New York’s wealthiest titan. She pointed right at me. “Mr. Harrison, you’re my sister’s hero.” Her voice was pure, manufactured innocence. “It would mean the world to her if you picked her. I don’t matter.” And just like that, I was adopted by Marcus Harrison. As I left, my sister Chloe smiled. “Have fun, Anna. This time, you can enjoy the living hell of being a Harrison.” “And I,” she whispered, “am finally going to get everything I deserve.” In our first life, Chloe was the one adopted by the Harrisons. She became the city’s most infamous “It Girl,” a beautiful, tragic mess passed around by old-money monsters. I was adopted by a struggling couple in Queens. But I clawed my way up and built a tech empire from nothing. When we met again, she chose to swap lives with me. She dragged me to a rooftop gala, screaming, “You have no idea what they did to me! They trained me, sold me! And you, my sister, you had everything and you never saved me!” Then she pushed me off the roof. And I pulled her down with me. Now, she thinks she’s won. She thinks she’s dodged the bullet and stolen my “lucky” path. But oh, my sweet, stupid sister. The Harrison family’s resources? Their name? Their connections? That doesn’t create a living hell. It just makes the climb faster. She stole the wrong life. Because the asset wasn’t the poor family. It was, and always has been, my brain. 1 “You’re my sister’s hero…” The moment I heard those words, I knew. She remembered, too. In our first life, she’d locked me in a closet during the adoption visit to make sure I couldn’t even be seen. She got the billionaire. I got the couple from Queens. And as soon as I was in their house, their luck changed. Because I changed it. Their small investments, guided by me, grew. Their struggling business, restructured by me, flourished. By the time I saw Chloe again, I was the new-money titan, and they were the wealthy 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 and powerful, she shattered. She blamed me. She killed me. And now, reborn, she thinks she’s pulling a fast one. Marcus Harrison, the mogul himself, was charmed by her “selflessness.” He agreed to adopt me. Chloe’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 suitcase. “What was that, Chloe?” “Goodbye, sister,” she sang, already turning toward the couple from Queens, 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, Anna,” 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. “Anna,” 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 Chloe. Chloe’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, Anna. 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, Anna?” 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. “Anna, 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 Chloe the exact same offer in our first life. Chloe 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 Harrison 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, Anna,” 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.” 4 Six months later. At breakfast, Eliza dropped a bomb. “Marcus, it’s time to make Anna’s position official.” “I’m planning an announcement gala for next month.” She sipped her tea. “And we’ll be transferring 2% of our personal shares in Harrison Group to her name. Each.” Marcus, reading the Wall Street Journal, froze. “Eliza, don’t you think that’s… premature? She’s still a child.” Eliza’s voice was ice. “Premature? Or are you waiting for one of your other children to come of age?” Marcus shot me a nervous glance. “Anna’s right here. Don’t be ridiculous.” “She’s our daughter,” Eliza shot back. “And she’s not an idiot. The shares, Marcus. And the title. It’s non-negotiable.” He was still terrified of her. “Fine, fine. Whatever you want.” He turned to me, forcing a smile. “Well, Anna, this means I’ll have to be even stricter with your training. You can’t let me down.” I sat up straight. “I won’t, Dad. I promise.” The gala was a media frenzy. I was introduced as Anna Harrison. Marcus announced the 4% stock transfer. And then Eliza, standing beside me, took the microphone. “And,” she smiled, “we are so thrilled to officially name Anna as the sole heir to the Harrison Group.” The room exploded. Marcus looked like he’d been slapped. But he couldn’t object. Not in public. Later, I heard them fighting. “You had no right!” he yelled. “An heir? Without consulting me?” “She’s our only daughter, Marcus. Who else would it be? Or… did you have another candidate in mind?” “She’s not our blood!” “Neither are your bastards, dear. And tell me, are any of them half as smart as she is?” He had no answer. I went back to my room. It was time to prove my “genius.”

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I was scrolling in bed when a post popped up in my feed: 【What do I do if my wife only likes me for my body?】 I figured it was just clickbait, but I tapped on it anyway. The comments were all trashing the guy for “humblebragging.” A few were giving him tips on how to “use his body to capture her heart.” I was getting into it when my husband, Ryan, walked out of the bathroom. He was still wearing the leather choker with the little bell. 1 【What do I do if my wife only likes me for my body?】 OP: We’ve been married for three years, and I’m starting to think my wife is just… physically attracted to me. When I try to talk to her, she’ll just say ‘uh-huh’ and go back to work. But if I walk past her without a shirt on, her eyes get all bright, and she comes over to… you know. Cuddle. So, does love just fade? Or did she only ever love my abs? I raised an eyebrow. This was a weirdly specific new way to get engagement. I scrolled down. Commenter 1: This is the most obnoxious humblebrag I’ve ever seen. Get out of here, man. You’re here to show off. OP: I’m really not. I’m anxious. I feel like we’re not connecting on an emotional level. Commenter 2: ‘Emotional level’? Lmao. Roommates by day, lovers by night? Dude, that’s the dream. What are you complaining about? OP: But I want her to like my other qualities, too. This guy was jealous of his own body? I guess that made sense. You need both for a healthy marriage. Commenter 3: You just need to lean into it. If she’s physically into you, that’s half the battle. Now you just have to make her so obsessed she can’t live without you. OP: You’re right. Thank you. I’m going to go see my wife right now. I was cackling when the bathroom door clicked open. A cloud of steam rolled out, followed by Ryan. His hair was damp, his upper body bare, and he had a towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets were tracing the lines of his abs… My eyes did a quick, involuntary scan. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, a ridiculous six-pack… and, wait. A new accessory. I couldn’t quite see it in the dim light. He cleared his throat and walked toward me, accompanied by the faint jingle-jingle of a bell. Hold on. He was wearing a bell. 2 I cleared my own throat, forcing my gaze up to his face. “All clean?” He hummed in response, his voice low and a little rough from the hot water. I couldn’t help it. My eyes went back to the thing on his neck. “You… buy that yourself?” He nodded, the tips of his ears turning pink. I had to laugh. I reached out and flicked the little bell. Jingle. Ryan’s whole face flushed. This was… adorable. My hand, of its own accord, drifted lower, tracing the line of his clavicle. He let out a soft sound, and his eyes, when they met mine, were hazy and dark. That face, with that expression… I shoved him. He didn’t fight it, just fell back onto the mattress, landing with a soft whoosh, looking up at me like he was waiting for instructions. “Ryan…” I whispered, crawling over him. “Hmm?” I smirked, my hand slowly moving over his stomach. “You’re ridiculous. And I love it.” … 3 The next morning, I checked the thread. OP had posted an update at 2 AM. OP: It worked. My wife definitely loves my body. But I’ve made up my mind. It’s a start. I’m going to make her fall in love with all of me. The late-night crowd was, of course, terrible. Commenter 8: 2 AM? You just finished, didn’t you? OP: Yeah. She said I was… adorable. Commenter 9: We’re gonna need pics of this body, for… science. OP: Sorry, my body is for my wife only. But I do work out every day. To win her heart, I’m going to work out even harder. … I walked out of the bedroom, still scrolling. Ryan was already in the kitchen, plating breakfast. He set a bowl of oatmeal with fresh berries in front of me. I kept reading, laughing at the comments. “Chloe.” I looked up. “Hmm?” “What time will you be home today?” I thought. “I have a board meeting. Probably late. Don’t wait for me.” He just nodded. A second later, a notification popped up. OP had posted a new comment. OP: I don’t think she likes me. At all. Away from the bedroom, she’s so cold. She was on her phone all through breakfast. She barely even looked at me. I suddenly felt a little bad. He was taking this “hot and cold” thing pretty hard. The comments were, again, not helping. Commenter 12: Dude, stop being so needy. You sound like a chick. Man up. Stop whining about your wife. OP: I don’t think ‘needy’ or ‘feminine’ should be insults. Compassion, vulnerability, and treasuring your partner are good things. I’m here looking for advice on how to connect with my wife, not for a lesson in toxic masculinity. If you think acting like a ‘man’ means devaluing your partner, that’s your problem, not mine. I stared at the comment. I hit the ‘upvote’ button. Damn. Go off, Ryan. 4 I got to the office. Ryan and I… our marriage was a merger. A business arrangement. But it had always been… good. We rarely fought. He was a private wealth manager, I ran a high-profile talent agency. We had our own lives. The morning was swallowed by meetings. “Liam’s new movie is with a major director,” my VP was saying. “If this lands, we’re looking at an Oscar campaign.” I nodded, and we moved on. At lunch, I opened the thread again. It was my soap opera now. Commenter 25: Maybe you’re just a hot body and nothing else? No personality? Hmm. Possible. OP: My wife says I’m handsome. And I’m successful in my own right. But I think she’s more amazing. When she’s in work mode, she’s… incredible. So smart. But then she doesn’t look at me. Anyway, I don’t think I’m a ‘nothing.’ Commenter 26: What does your wife do? You said she deals with ‘glamorous’ people? Dude. She’s definitely cheating on you. Probably with some hot young actor. OP: Absolutely not. My wife’s job requires her to be around those types… but I trust her. Her standards are way too high for anyone else. I choked on my coffee. He was complimenting himself while complimenting me. This guy was… a lot. But he was insecure. He needed to be more like Ryan. Ryan was solid as a rock. He’d walked in on my top client, Liam, telling me he was in love with me, and Ryan hadn’t even blinked. Of course, we had a pre-nup. No cheating. I sighed. Ryan was always so… perfect. So contained. I never knew what he was really thinking.

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I was married for six years, and my stoic, predictable husband suddenly became very, very strange. He started spending an hour getting dressed, two hours at the gym, and three hours in the middle of the workday “coincidentally” bringing me lunch, glaring at any man under 30 who walked past my desk. I had no idea what was wrong with him, until I found his diary. “She didn’t wear her wedding ring to work today. Was it an oversight, or is this the beginning of the end? I can’t think straight. I’m too scared to ask. I’m going insane…” “She liked that intern’s post on Instagram. Is she trying to kill me? It’s his fault. That pretty-boy asshole, posting his stupid gym selfies…” “The man in the mirror is aging. He’s decaying. He’s getting ugly. No. I have to perfect this vessel. It’s the only way she won’t leave me.” “I’m so helpless. I’m five years older than her. I’m not young anymore. My looks will fade, and when they do, her love will, too. This is how it ends…” 1 My marriage to Arthur was, by all accounts, perfect. He was handsome, successful, and treated me with a gentle, respectful courtesy. A model husband. But only I knew how suffocating that perfection was. During my lunch break, my colleague, Sarah, was leaning against the counter in the breakroom, complaining. “I got home at 8 PM,” she vented, “and he was just… pouting. I had to spend an hour apologizing before he’d even talk to me. And now I’m banned from wearing skirts above the knee. Can you believe the nerve?” She turned to me, a sly grin on her face. “Eliza, you’re lucky. Arthur is so buttoned-up in the boardroom. I bet he’s an absolute control freak in private, right? Super possessive?” I just smiled and sipped my tea. The truth, and the bitter irony, was the exact opposite. In six years, Arthur had never been possessive. He was a robot, programmed for politeness. He never asked who I was with, never cared what time I came home, and would probably sooner die than touch my phone. My colleagues always said love requires a little jealousy. That a lack of possession means a lack of love. So, did Arthur… not love me? Was I the only one who had actually fallen? My fingers tightened around the warm mug. It was the chamomile tea Arthur had made for me that morning before he left. He’d silently placed it in my tote bag, then disappeared into the walk-in closet. Lately, he’d been obsessed with his appearance. He was even wearing cologne, a scent he used to hate. A dark, unwelcome thought crept into my mind. On impulse, I opened the security app for our apartment. The living room camera was active. And there was Arthur, on the yoga mat, directly in front of the camera. He was shirtless. His throat worked as he counted reps. The sunlight from the penthouse window hit the sweat on his abs, highlighting every defined muscle. His low-rise joggers were slung dangerously low on his hips, shifting with every crunch. It felt… staged. Like a dangerous, private invitation. My throat went tight. My finger hovered over the “zoom” icon. The screen abruptly went black, replaced by my boss’s face. A video call. The spell shattered. I slammed my laptop shut, my heart hammering. 2 The call was to announce a last-minute team dinner. Annoyed, I reached up to twist my wedding ring… and my finger was bare. I froze. I remembered the night before last. Things had gotten… athletic. I’d been afraid of scratching him, so I’d taken it off. It was still on the nightstand. My colleagues were all texting their partners. I sighed and stepped into the hallway to call Arthur. He picked up on the first ring, his voice low and smooth. “Eliza.” My face warmed. “Hey. I have a work dinner tonight. I might be late.” The line went dead silent. Not even the sound of him breathing. I pulled the phone away from my ear. “Arthur? Are you there?” “I’m here,” he said. His voice was rough, like gravel, and there was a tremor I’d never heard before. “Do you… do you have to go?” I was about to say yes, obviously, when he cut me off, his voice cracking. “Will you… will you be coming home? Tonight? Eliza, are you coming back?” “Of course I am,” I said, completely baffled. “You are?!” His relief was so loud it was almost desperate. He cleared his throat. “I mean, good. That’s good. I’ll wait up. Whatever time you get home… just… as long as you come home. I’ll be here.” I was starting to get worried. “Okay… Can you leave the light on for me?” “Yes,” he said, instantly. “I will.” 3 My boss is a notorious cheapskate. The “team dinner” was at a grimy dive bar with an outdoor patio. By the time I’d wrangled my drunk VP into an Uber, my neck, my ankles, and my hands were covered in itchy, red mosquito bites. It was 10 PM when I finally got home. The apartment was dark. The entry light flickered on, illuminating an empty living room. Arthur wasn’t home. I pulled out my phone to call him, just as the front door opened behind me. Arthur. He was soaked to the bone. Rainwater dripped from his hair onto the marble floor. His perfectly tailored white shirt was plastered to his chest, his suit jacket and tie gone. He wasn’t the composed executive. He looked like a stray dog, lost and broken. We stared at each other. “You’re home,” he said. His voice was flat, dead. “I… yeah. What happened to you? Get inside.” He stepped in, and his eyes scanned my face, my mouth, my neck. When his gaze hit my neck, he froze. I caught a whiff of him. Under the rain and his expensive cologne, there was… cheap beer and fried onions. The smell of the exact dive bar I’d just left. “Arthur, were you… were you there? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, I was…” “I don’t want to know!” he snapped, his voice sharp. He wouldn’t look at me. “I mean… no. I wasn’t. I just… went for a walk.” “Okay, well, I should tell you, tonight…” His jaw tensed. “Stop. I’m… I’m tired. I’m going to take a shower.” He practically ran, slamming the bathroom door. 4 I stood in the living room, confused. Over the sound of the shower, I heard it. A small, choked sound. He was crying. “Arthur?” I knocked. “Are you okay? I heard… are you crying?” A long pause. The water shut off. “You misheard,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m fine.” I gave up and curled up on the sofa. When he came out, he was wrapped in a robe. He went to his dresser and started… getting dressed. He was meticulously choosing a tie. “You have an early meeting?” I mumbled, “It’s Friday night.” His hands froze on the silk tie. His knuckles were white. “This one… it’s a little dated, don’t you think?” I said, trying to make conversation. “We should get you some new ones.” He didn’t speak. His hands dropped. The tie fell to the floor. “Dated,” he whispered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. “Is it… is it just the tie?” “What?” I sat up, and the scent of him hit me. He turned around. His eyes were red-rimmed. His lip was trembling. And he was wearing… oh my god. He was wearing the ridiculous, black lace-trimmed silk boxers I’d bought him as a gag gift our first year of marriage. He’d been horrified. He’d sworn he’d burned them. And now… he was wearing them. I couldn’t help it. My breath hitched. “Wow,” I said, my face burning. “You, uh… you’ve still got it, old man.” His face crumpled. “Old?” “No, I just meant…” I stood up, reaching for him. “It’s late. Why don’t we…” He flinched away from my hand like I’d burned him. “I… I have work to do,” he stammered, his voice thick. “In the study. You go to bed.”

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