I was born deaf. It’s a silence so complete, it feels like time itself has stopped. My family thought I was just a quiet, well-behaved baby. It took them years to realize I wasn’t responding because I couldn’t hear. Everyone told my mother to give up. “Send her to a state home. It’ll be easier. You can have another.” My own father gave her an ultimatum: “It’s me or the ‘broken’ kid.” Mom didn’t even cry. She just packed our bags and we left. She worked two jobs, taking me with her, and spent her nights teaching herself sign language so she could teach me. I remember her, exhausted, her hand on my throat, mouthing words over and over, trying to teach me how to feel the shape of sound. When I was six, she had finally saved enough for my first hearing aids. That was the first time I heard the rain. It was also when I discovered my “gift.” When I wear my aids, I hear the world. When I take them out, the world goes silent… but I can hear thoughts. From that day on, I almost never took the aids out. Knowing what people really think—it’s not a gift. It’s a curse. 2 There were times, when she was so tired she could barely stand, that my mom thought about leaving. She thought about walking out the door and never coming back. I knew. I’d just tug on her shirt and sign, You won’t leave? She’d burst into tears and hug me, and I’d listen to her thoughts. I love you. I will never leave you. School was hard. Teachers were kind, but kids were cruel. “Deaf-mute.” “Freak.” I never, ever took my hearing aids out at school. I was terrified of what I’d hear. I hated the world’s noise, but I hated its silence even more. So I just… disappeared. I was the quiet girl in the back row. Excellent grades, zero friends. I got my mom’s looks. Not “bombshell,” but “pretty.” Boys would sometimes leave notes in my locker. When I’d politely decline, they’d get mean. “What, you think you’re too good for me? You’re a deafie. I was just being nice.” You learn to ignore it. Their words were never as ugly as their thoughts. Mom opened a small diner, The Dumpling Nook. I’d help out on weekends, clearing tables and running the register. Mom wanted me to stay home and study, but I wanted to help. One day, a group of kids from my class came in. Mom was so happy she comped their meal. The next day, the rumors started. How I was “trailer trash.” The jocks would “borrow” my homework. It always came back stained or torn. My teachers would ask if everything was okay. I’d just nod. I didn’t want to make things harder for my mom. It got worse. Then, I was “asked out” by Ethan Crowe. The school “god.” I was stunned. I had nothing he could possibly want. I said no. I expected him to be cruel. Instead, he just smiled, a flash of perfect white teeth, and ruffled my hair. “That’s okay, Ava. I’ll wait. You’ll come around.” He walked away, his white shirt bright in the sun. That image stuck with me. Of course, the entire school lost its mind. I got a new nickname: “The Girl Who Shot Down Ethan.” I started noticing him. He wasn’t just popular; he was brilliant. On the academic rankings, he was always right behind me. Number two. He was the debate team captain, the class president, the star quarterback. He was everything. Our school put up a “Wall of Scholars” for national competition winners. My photo went up for winning the National Essay Contest. Right next to it was a photo of Ethan, holding a debate trophy, his smile so bright it hurt. The next day, there was a letter in my locker. His name was on the envelope. I waited until I was home to read it. Ava, I read your essay. It was incredible. I feel like you’re the only other person here who’s actually thinking. My asking you out was… clumsy. I apologize. Can we just be friends? If yes, just leave this note in your desk. I’ll find it. —Ethan I shouldn’t have. I should have thrown it away. But… I was lonely. I wrote back: Friends. Let’s both ace the midterms. I tucked my reply into my copy of The Bell Jar and left it in my desk. The next morning, the book was gone. In its place was a tiny stuffed bear. Our “friendship” became a secret. We’d pass in the halls, and he’d give me a small, private smile. That was it. I was grateful. A month later, he texted. I’m drowning in calculus. Meet me at the library on Saturday? Please? It was off-campus. It felt… safe. I said yes. I was nervous. I spent an hour picking out an outfit. He was already there. He was so easy to talk to. I recommended a few prep books I was using. He bought them, and then he bought me a coffee, and we just… talked. Until the sun started to set. I got home that night, and my skin started to itch. By morning, I was covered in hives. I’m deathly allergic to mango. I retraced every step. The only thing I hadn’t prepared myself was the coffee… the one he’d bought me. I missed the state math competition. Ethan showed up at the hospital a few days later with flowers. “Ava! I heard you were sick! Are you okay?” His smile was so warm, so concerned. I pulled out my right hearing aid. The world went silent. 【God, this is boring. I wish she’d stay in here longer.】 I fumbled with the aid, pretending to adjust it. 【She had to have told me she was allergic to mango. I remember it. Thank God it worked.】 …It worked? 【She’s so annoying. This ‘little deaf girl’ act is so old. If she’d just fall for me, I wouldn’t have to pull this crap.】 I put the aid back in. My hands were shaking. “The doctor said…” His voice was smooth as silk. “I… I think I must have eaten something with mango in it. At the diner. I’m so stupid. I ruined everything. I’m so sorry I missed the competition.” He looked genuinely devastated. 【She’s buying it. Perfect. Now I just need to keep her out of the running for the AP Scholar prize.】 I handed him the bottle of water from my nightstand. I made sure he saw the red, swollen rash on my hand. He flinched, just for a second. “It’s okay,” I said, my voice soft. “It was an accident. I should have been more careful. I feel like I let you down. You were cheering for me.” He relaxed, taking the water. “Next time, Ava. We’ll be 1 and 2.” I smiled. Oh, Ethan. You’re not even in my league. “Actually,” I said, “I was organizing my study notes before… this. I can give you a copy when I get out. To thank you for the flowers.” His eyes lit up. 【Her notes? It’s over. I’ve won.】 When an enemy reveals his weakness, the game is yours to control. I gave him my notes. All of them. And they were all correct. It’s just… I gave him the long, convoluted, time-wasting formulas. The ones that take ten minutes when a simpler one takes two. The test is about speed, after all. I’m not a “good” girl. I’m a survivor. He touched my future. He was lucky I was only going for his GPA. Ethan, ecstatic, told me he’d placed second in the math competition. (A new kid, Liam, had taken first.) He was convinced my notes would help him “clinch the top spot” next time. I just smiled. “I know you can do it.” 3 Someone posted a photo of us at the library. The rumors went nuclear. My teachers pulled me aside. I promised them Ethan and I were “just study partners.” They let it go. My grades were my shield. But the whispers… I took out my aids for just a second. 【Look at her. Total user. Playing the deaf card to get the top jock to pity her.】 【I heard she’s faking the deaf thing. She’s just a manipulative bitch.】 I put the aid back in, my head pounding. That afternoon, I was cornered in the bathroom. It was Maya, the “queen bee” of the school. She took a long drag from her vape and blew the smoke in my face. I coughed, my eyes watering. “Heads up, scholarship,” she said, flicking an ash. “Ethan Crowe? He’s not ‘nice.’ He’s a snake. Don’t be an idiot.” She just… left. Ethan, meanwhile, doubled down. He started sitting with me at lunch. In front of everyone. “She’s such a slut. Leading him on.” “She’s probably just after his money.” I tried to ignore it, my hands shaking so hard I couldn’t hold my fork. I took a deep breath. I picked up my unopened orange juice and slid it across the table to him. “Ethan,” I said, loud enough for the tables nearby to hear, “I can’t get this open. Can you help me?” It was the first time I’d ever publicly acknowledged him. He was stunned. Then he smiled, popping the seal and handing it back. You’re the one who started this, I thought. Why should I be the only one to pay for it?

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My husband was in love again. With some girl, this time. I’ve learned my lesson. No tears, no screaming matches. I even give him a gentle nudge out the door for his dates. He’s pleased. “See?” he boasts to his friends, a proud arm slung around my shoulders at whatever cocktail party we’re at. “This is why you marry the good ones. The ones who get it.” But his friends—his brothers-in-arms—they just shift their weight and look at their drinks. Because they know. I’ve had my moments of not being so “good” with every single one of them. Especially the one in the corner, the ice king himself. Just last night, when I was so exhausted I couldn’t lift a finger, he was whispering in my ear, pinning me to the sheets. “When are you going to make this official, hmm? Say it.” 1 Alex was in love again. This time, a college girl. He was obsessed with her. And she was the clingy type. Today was my birthday. For once, Alex was actually home to celebrate. I hadn’t even blown out the candles on the sad little cupcake he’d bought when his phone started buzzing, a persistent, demanding vibration on the marble countertop. He took the call on the balcony, hiding from me. I could still hear her. “Are you really at home with her? Your boring wife?” “If you sleep in the same bed with her tonight, we’re done. I’m serious, Alex.” Her voice was all sugar and petulance. Alex didn’t even seem annoyed. He just softened his voice, charming her through the glass. “Hey, don’t be like that. My little jealous thing. I’ll just be here for the cake, and then I’m all yours, okay?” “I bought you that pink diamond you wanted. I’ll bring it with me.” That seemed to placate her. She added, in a saccharine sweet voice, “Well… you can’t kiss her.” I heard Alex chuckle. “Babe, I won’t even touch her. Deal?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Does the other woman always get to be this self-righteous? When Alex came back inside, I kindly handed him the small, velvet box from the table. The one with the pink diamond. “You grabbed the wrong one,” I said. He froze for a second, then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out another, identical box. “An emerald necklace. For your birthday.” He can’t even keep his gifts straight. Is that how little thought he puts into me now? “Thank you.” I took it without another word. No point in getting angry. Green was a fitting color for me, anyway. Maybe my quiet acceptance was too much for him. A strange look flickered in his eyes. “Maya…” He stepped closer, leaning in to kiss me. I put a hand flat against his chest, stopping him. “Don’t. Your girlfriend has rules.” His eyes darkened, a flash of anger on his face. He threw himself onto the sofa, sprawling like he owned the world. “Maya, are you trying to start a fight?” Ha. The question was so absurd it was almost funny. But I had no time for him. I picked up my phone and sent a quick text to the girl. Your man wants to get cozy. Tonight’s date might be off. A moment later, Alex’s phone rang again. And then, just like that, he was grabbing his keys and rushing out the door to put out the fire he’d started. I let out a long, slow breath. People change. I used to be terrified of him not coming home. Now, my only fear is that he’ll stay. He’s getting in the way of my plans. 2 Alex and I married for love, of course. But he was born a wild horse, and all he ever wanted was a prairie filled with other mares. Over the years, his lovers have been a blur of shapes and sizes, too many to count. In the beginning, I fought it. I cried, I screamed, I broke things. I begged him, humbled myself completely, pleading for him to cut them off, to come back to our family. Alex would just watch me with cold eyes. “Maya, stop it.” “In our world, who doesn’t have a few women on the side?” “You’re Mrs. Corbin. Isn’t that enough?” I laughed through my tears. “You’re my husband. Is it okay if I find a lineup of male models, then?” Alex’s jaw clenched. “You’re insane,” he spat. “Maya, I dare you to try.” A dare is a dare. Of course, I didn’t hire models. I just… opened my mind. I stopped trying to manage Alex’s love life. I became a placid lake, a silent observer of his messes. No tears, no tantrums. A perfect, mute wife. He loved it. After a few drinks, he’d sling his arm around me and show me off to his friends. “See? This is why you marry the good ones.” On that particular night, his friends all looked away. Because I had been “bad” with every single one of them. For every new affair Alex started, I’d secretly start one of my own. With one of his best friends. If he was going to cheat on me again and again, then I was going to knit him a beautiful, seamless crown of thorns. Especially with the one in the corner, the untouchable one, the heir to the Croft family fortune—Sebastian Croft. The night before, when I was so tired I couldn’t move, he was still pressing, whispering against my skin. “When are you going to make me the main event, hmm? Tell me.” Yes, Sebastian had become quite demanding lately. His jealousy was starting to rival that of Alex’s new girl. I opened the voice message he’d sent. His voice was like a Mojito on a hot summer night—cool, intoxicating. “Maya. Come out.” I didn’t reply. Three seconds later, a picture arrived. A neatly arranged landscape of lean, hard abs. A few drops of water, not yet dried, traced a path down the deep lines of his hips, disappearing just out of frame. Sending me a picture like that. He was practically begging me to come over and clean him up. And I’m not one to back down from a challenge. With him, it was becoming an addiction. 3 The usual spot. A suite at a five-star hotel. I stood outside the door for a minute, but there was no sound. Oh, so someone was angry. “If you don’t open this door, I’m leaving.” I don’t play these games. The door flew open and a hand with long, elegant fingers pulled me inside. Sebastian was sitting on the sofa, radiating a wounded pride. He was wrapped tightly in a robe, his face a mask of cold indifference. “What does it mean when you don’t answer my texts?” His profile was so perfect it made my voice soften against my will. “He was home. It wasn’t a good time.” His dark eyelashes trembled. “Maya, divorce him.” “I can’t.” He flinched, and the corners of his eyes immediately flushed red. “You still love him?” “Then what am I?” What are you? Don’t you know? But I couldn’t say that out loud. Out in the world, Sebastian was a shark in the boardroom, a killer at the negotiating table. But with me, he transformed into this wronged puppy, constantly acting like I was the one hurting him. And damn it all, I fell for his soft side every single time. “If I loved him, would I be here with you?” “Just… wait a little longer.” I’m past the age where love is the only thing that matters. I have my own agenda. At the end of the year, the North District project that Alex’s company has been planning for five years is set to launch. His assets could triple, maybe more. If I’m going to divorce him, I’m waiting until I can walk away with a very large check. It’s what I deserve. After all, I was the one who lived with him in a garden-level apartment and ate ramen with him when he was just starting out, broke and dreaming. I used the same placating tone on Sebastian that Alex used on his little girlfriend. “I’m not leaving tonight. I’ll stay with you. Be good.” A slow smile spread across Sebastian’s lips, his eyes so bright they could have blinded me. “Right. I’m handsome, and my… performance is excellent. There’s no reason you wouldn’t choose me.” Men are children until the day they die. He gently took my hand and guided it to the knot on his bathrobe. “Here,” he whispered, his voice turning husky. “Your gift. Come unwrap it.” He’s good. He’s very good. Faced with a temptation like this, my resistance crumbled. I think I was starting to understand Alex’s thrill. The forbidden fruit really is sweeter. But I knew this was a happiness born from moral decay. It couldn’t see the light of day; it wasn’t something the world would ever accept. “Maya, when am I getting the promotion? Hmm? Say something.” “Maya, I really, really like you. What about you?” Looking into his sincere eyes, I couldn’t answer. I reached up and stroked his cheek. A rare flicker of conscience, but a small one. I was already thinking about how to end this, and he was thinking about a future. I’ll just wait a little longer, I thought. Eventually, he’ll get bored of this, just like Alex did. They all do. The passion burns hot and bright, and then it fades to embers and ash. Besides, with rich kids like them, who knows what’s real and what’s a line? Trusting a man’s words is a good way to get your heart broken. The next day, when I dragged my sore body home, a voice cut through the morning quiet. “Where have you been?” Alex was sitting on the living room sofa. It was the first time in ages he’d been home this early. 4 I froze for a second. “I went downstairs for breakfast. Is that a crime?” I said, forcing a casual tone. Alex’s gaze swept over me, and then he was on his feet, standing directly in front of me. His eyes were dark, his voice cool. “Maya, where did that mark on your neck come from?” My mind flashed to Sebastian. My heart skipped a beat. “Stress,” I blurted out. “It’s a rash. I was pinching at it.” He stared at my neck, his expression hardening. He clearly didn’t believe me. The hickey was too obvious. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Maya, are you screwing someone else behind my back?” “Who is he?” I slammed my bedroom door shut, the sound echoing in the silent apartment. I almost caught his nose. Thank God we’d been sleeping in separate rooms. Alex’s furious voice came through the door. “Maya, if I find out you’re seeing someone, I’ll kill him.” “It’s Sebastian Croft,” I called back. “Go on. Kill him.” I knew he wouldn’t dare. The Croft family was in another league. Alex couldn’t touch him. At most, they’d have a fight, and it would be a good way to finally sever my ties with Sebastian anyway. To my surprise, Alex was silent for two seconds, then let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Maya, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. Sebastian Croft? A guy like that wouldn’t give you a second look.” In that moment, something inside me shriveled. It felt like a plum dropping into ice water, cold and sour. It was the contempt he held for me, laid bare. Was this why he could betray our marriage over and over without a shred of guilt? Because he had never truly valued me? The truth is, besides Sebastian, I never went all the way with his other friends. I tried. But I just couldn’t. My body wouldn’t let me. The worst time, I left the guy completely speechless. He looked down at the mess on his expensive shirt, bewildered. “I’m this handsome, and you threw up?” I apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you.” “It’s me. I have… a kind of emotional block.” I was different from Alex. I couldn’t be as careless with my body, with my heart. Except for Sebastian. That was an accident. A beautiful, complicated accident. “Alex, let’s get a divorce.” I couldn’t do this anymore. It was time for us both to be free. Alex was quiet for a few seconds. “Maya, you know I hate it when you throw tantrums.” “If I agree to this, you’d better not regret it.” He was so sure of himself. He thought I was just bluffing, using divorce as a threat. He had no idea how quickly the whole thing was about to blow up in his face. 5 My best friend, bless her soul, is the new events manager at a high-end boutique hotel. She insisted on giving me a voucher for a free night’s stay. Sebastian raised an eyebrow over FaceTime. “Well, I’ve never been. I demand you take me.” What we didn’t expect was that Alex and his new girl were also drawn to the same place. They had just swiped their key card and disappeared into Room 817. And I swiped mine for Room 818. One wall separating us. The thought sent a illicit thrill through me. A thrill that apparently affected Sebastian too, because the moment the door clicked shut, he pressed me against it and kissed me, deep and hungry. “Wait, hold on,” I gasped. “They’ll hear us next door.” He nibbled on my earlobe, his voice a low purr. “Don’t worry. The soundproofing in this place is decent.” How would he know that? I narrowed my eyes. “Who have you been here with?” Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “Maya, are you jealous?” “I have to say, I like it when you’re jealous for me.” “But relax. You’re the only one. All my inventory is reserved for you.” He buried his head in my neck again, his lips finding that sensitive spot. Sebastian definitely had a touch of the hopeless romantic about him. When I first started flirting with him, he was so cool and distant. Sometimes I wonder if it was all an act. Just then, my phone rang, a shrill, jarring sound. “Phone…” I mumbled. He reluctantly pulled away, his eyes glazed with desire, giving me a soft glare. I glanced at the caller ID and my stomach dropped. It was Alex. His voice on the other end was low and cold. “Open the door.” Ten seconds passed. His voice came again, laced with a threat. “Maya, I have plenty of ways to make you open this door.” He must have heard me when I gasped earlier. I know him. He’s stubborn. And if he made a scene, it would be impossible to explain. His girlfriend in one room, my… whatever Sebastian was, in the room right next door. The optics were terrible. I’d have to inconvenience Sebastian. “Can you hide in the bathroom for a minute?” He clung to me, not moving. “Am I that shameful? Someone to be hidden?” I pressed my fingertips to my temples. “That’s my husband outside the door.” “Which makes you the other man right now. Got it?” He bristled. “He’s got his mistress with him! Why does she get to be so brazen, and I have to be so pathetic?” Seriously? The house is on fire and he’s comparing notes? But he had a point. Alex’s little girlfriend was brazen. I felt a pang of guilt. I had put him in this cowardly position. So I leaned in and crushed my mouth against his. “Because this makes it more exciting,” I whispered against his lips. One kiss wasn’t enough, so I gave him another, harder one. “Be good. Think of him as just a prop in our little game.” Sebastian’s eyes brightened, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his swollen lips. “Now that’s more like it.” Finally, the big baby relented, strolling casually into the bathroom. I pulled open the door. Alex stood there, his face as black as thunder. “Where is he? The bastard you’re with.” Alex’s jaw was tight. He scanned the room, then marched to the bathroom and tried the handle. It was locked. “Fine,” he sneered. “You think you can hide in there forever?” “This hotel is owned by one of my friend’s companies. One phone call, and I’ll have the security footage from this entire floor.” “You just wait, Maya. I’m going to see exactly who it is.” Go ahead, I thought. I already checked. This particular spot is a blind spot for the cameras. But sometimes, your best-laid plans are derailed by the one thing you didn’t account for. Alex pulled out his phone to call his friend. And at that exact moment, a phone started ringing from inside the bathroom. Alex looked at me, his eyes filled with suspicion. He hung up his call. The ringing in the bathroom stopped. He dialed again. And again, the cheerful ringtone echoed from behind the bathroom door.

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There’s a certain kind of sidewalk theater you only get in a city like this. I was watching the matinee performance: the hero, the heroine, and the villainess, all tangled up in a screaming match on a street corner. Then a semi-truck barreled through a red light, and I went from being a nameless extra to nearly becoming a casualty. “If I die… raise my son. My bank PIN is—” The villainess, Seraphina, had shoved me out of the way. She was left broken on the asphalt, and those were her last words before she was gone. After a long search, I finally found him in a group home on the other side of the state. The moment I walked out of the building with him, a strange text began to scroll across my vision, like subtitles for a movie I was trapped in. [What the hell? Who is this random woman? Why did she adopt the little villain?] [This kid is a carbon copy of his mother—dark, paranoid, the whole package.] [Even his own father disowned him, threw him in the system while adopting another kid. This woman must have a death wish.] I looked down at the small boy beside me, swallowed by a threadbare coat. I decided the subtitles were full of crap. A little dark and paranoid? That’s not a terminal illness. 1 “Come on,” I said, opening the car door for him. He didn’t move. His gaze was locked on a car parked across the street. I followed his eyes. A sleek, black Maserati. [The little villain must be furious. His own father, choosing to adopt some other kid instead of him.] [That’s not just ‘some other kid.’ That’s Ethan, the story’s hero. Born with a halo over his head, top of his class in brains and charm.] [And this poor kid, the villain, is doomed to spend his life trying to compete with a guy he can never beat.] The subtitles, my constant companions, were chattering again. It meant the author was updating the story. That truck crash had killed Seraphina, but it had also taken the original heroine. A whole new cycle of tragedy was just getting started. I glanced back at the luxury car, then gently turned the boy’s head and guided him into my own. “Let’s go. If you like that car so much, we can buy one.” He scowled, his small face tight with defiance. “I don’t want you to buy it for me. When I’m older, I’ll buy my own.” Well, well. My son has ambition. The drive home was silent. When we got to my apartment, he stood in the middle of the living room, his small fists clenched, glaring at me like a cornered animal. “Just so we’re clear. You’re not my mom. I already have one.” “Call me whatever you want,” I said, shrugging. “By the way, what’s your name?” It occurred to me that I’d gone through this whole process without actually catching it. The director of the home had mentioned it, but I was too busy reading the subtitles in my head. He remained silent. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to have to pick one for you. Let’s see… how about Brayden? All the cool kids in kindergarten are named Brayden.” I grinned. “Leo,” he bit out, stomping his foot in frustration. “What was that?” “My name is Leo!” I chuckled. “Leo. Strong name. I like it. I’ll call you Leo, my boy.” “Don’t! That sounds stupid. My name is Leo.” “Alright, Leo, my boy, it’s late. Time for bed. We’ve got to get you registered for school tomorrow.” I scooped him up, dropped him into the small bed I’d prepared, tucked him in, and walked out. 2 The next morning, after registering Leo for school, I realized the hero of this story, Ethan Sterling, was not only in the same class but was also Leo’s new deskmate. [And so it begins. Get ready to watch the hero put the villain in his place.] [In this kind of old-school rivalry plot, the villain is destined to be crushed.] [The sad part is, he doesn’t know it. He thinks if he just works hard enough, he can win.] [Get real. Ethan’s the main character. The whole world revolves around him. A minor villain will never see the spotlight.] The damned subtitles were back, and their commentary was particularly nasty today. Never see the spotlight? The kid I’m raising can be whatever he wants. Even if he chooses to be a couch potato, he’ll be the best damn couch potato there is. That evening, after Leo finished his homework, he found me watching cartoons in the living room. “I need to sign up for tutoring,” he announced. “For Math, English, and Science. All of them.” “You’re in second grade. What do you need tutors for?” I patted the cushion next to me. “Come on, watch Bob’s Burgers with me. It’s a classic.” He gave the television a look that could curdle milk. “I need it! I have to get first place on the final exams! If you don’t sign me up, I’ll report you for neglect.” Threats? Seriously? Did he have any idea who he was dealing with? “Fine, fine, you win. I’ll find a tutoring center for you tomorrow.” Seeing that I’d agreed, he turned and marched back to his room to study. The next day after school, I picked him up and drove him straight to the city’s athletic club. The look on his face was a mix of confusion and fury. “I said Math, English, and Science. What is this? Swimming and tennis lessons?” “Well, I noticed you’re a little skinny. Gotta build up that physique,” I said brightly. “It’s all about a well-rounded education, you know? Mind, body, and spirit.” I tried to give him a reassuring hug, but he dodged me. “And the cooking class?” he asked, pointing to a third registration form. “Is that for my physique, too?” “That… that was a freebie! It’s a tough economy out there, you know. They had a buy-two-get-one-free deal. It would’ve been a waste not to take it.” My own cooking is so bad, my dog won’t eat it. I’d stumbled upon a kid with a stubborn, obsessive drive to be the best. I had to channel that talent toward the kitchen. For my own survival. “I don’t want this. Change them. I’m not learning any of this.” He was so angry he ripped the forms to shreds. I reached into my bag and pulled out three more copies. “Those were just printouts. I’ve got plenty more.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re not… scared, are you? Scared you won’t be good at it?” “Who says I won’t be good at it?” he shot back, his pride wounded. “I can be the best at anything.” Leo snatched the forms from my hand, swung his little backpack over his shoulder, and stormed into the building. [Some mothers just don’t get it. Ethan’s parents have him in advanced math programs, and this woman has the villain signed up for swimming, tennis, and a cooking class.] [He’s already falling behind. The hero is in the math olympiad, and the villain can’t even get a real tutor. He’s never going to catch up in this lifetime.] I waved a dismissive hand at the subtitles in my vision and found a comfortable bench to play games on my phone. 3 Throughout elementary school, it was a constant battle of wills between Leo and me. He’d try to stay up all night studying, and I’d flip the circuit breaker at ten o’clock sharp. He’d read dense, historical biographies, and I’d swap them out for books on weird animal facts. On weekends, he’d try to grind through practice exams, and I’d drag him on a six-mile hike back from a park on the other side of town. During school breaks, he’d descend into a frenzy of test prep, and I’d counter with my own frenzy of blasting 80s power ballads and learning TikTok dances. “Rosemary, can you please be quiet for one second? The middle school entrance exam is next week!” He’d finally reached his breaking point. He stormed into the living room and yanked the plug on my speaker. “It’s just a middle school exam, not the bar. What are you so nervous about?” I said. “Besides, your Aunt Carol and Aunt June are coming over for poker later. We need a fourth.” He could be a dark, paranoid villain-in-training all he wanted. But when faced with three unreasonable women who needed another player for their card game, even the most determined villain is powerless. Leo played poker with us all afternoon. He lost fifty bucks. [A villain is a villain. Can’t do anything right.] [The hero gets straight A’s and can probably beat a grandmaster at chess. This kid studies himself to death and is still stuck in second place.] [And with a mother like that, his dream of ever beating the hero is just that. A dream.] The subtitles were getting snarky. But they weren’t entirely wrong. Leo worked incredibly hard, even if his motivation was to one-up Ethan. He was a dedicated kid. No TV, no video games, just studying the moment he finished dinner. The only time he acted out was when his grades weren’t better than the hero’s, which usually resulted in a few broken pencils. A parent obsessed with academic achievement would have been thrilled to have a kid like him. Unfortunately for him, he got me, a professional slacker. I didn’t want him to become the bitter, obsessive person the subtitles described. I wanted him to be a happy, well-adjusted kid who knew how to enjoy life. The week before the exam, one of my poker buddies got her hands on a box of wild mushrooms someone had brought back from a trip to Oregon. We turned them into a soup. It was delicious. Leo even had a bowl. “You’re four grown adults, and you don’t know not to eat strange mushrooms?” the doctor said, looking at the five of us—four adults and one child—all being treated for food poisoning. He was exasperated. But no one was more furious than Leo. We were stuck in the hospital for days. The middle school entrance exam came and went. 4 “I’m so sorry, Leo. I really am. I had no idea your Aunt Carol’s mother-in-law foraged those herself on a hiking trip.” I didn’t care about his academics, but I hated seeing him this heartbroken. Ethan, the hero, had aced the exam, scoring the highest in the city. He was headed to Northwood Preparatory, the best of the best. After we got home from the hospital, Leo locked himself in his room and refused to eat. To cheer him up, I gritted my teeth and made a decision. “Leo, my boy, look what I’ve got.” I slid an envelope under his door. The door flew open a second later. “What is this?” he demanded, holding up the acceptance letter from Northwood Preparatory. “I didn’t even take the test!” “Heh,” I said, grinning. “I made a fifty-thousand-dollar donation to their new gymnasium fund. They were happy to make an exception.” “Son, we’re rich. Even if you do nothing for the rest of your life, even if you just want to be a couch potato, I can make sure you’re comfortable.” It was time he learned the power of money. “That’s cheating!” “No one has to know.” “But I’ll know!” His face was beet red. I put a finger to my lips. “And if you know, you just don’t say anything. Simple.” He was still just a kid. For all his protests, when the first day of school arrived, he was there with his backpack on, ready to go. That evening, as I was getting ready for bed, he started packing a duffel bag with clothes and bedding. “I’m going to live in the dorms,” he announced. I couldn’t bear the thought. If he left, who would be my poker fourth? Who would cook for me? “Leo, my boy, the dorms are gross. It’s much more comfortable at home. Come on, stay here.” He didn’t stop packing. “I’m in junior high now. High school is in three years. This time, I am going to beat Ethan Sterling. I have to live at school. You can’t stop me.” [Heh. Beat the hero? In his dreams. The harder he tries, the crazier he’ll get. He’s heading for a complete breakdown.] [Isn’t this the period where his paranoia gets worse? Living in the dorms is what pushes him over the edge, right? He starts having mental health issues.] [He brings it on himself. Always trying to one-up the hero, trying to prove himself to his biological father. It just makes him more pathetic.] [It’s useless. His mother was the villainess who got his father’s true love killed. No amount of effort will ever change that.] “Enough!” I shouted at the words scrolling in my vision. Leo turned, his eyes wide with surprise. I forced a smile. “I mean, enough of those old clothes. You don’t need to pack so much. I’ll buy you new ones.” The subtitles had terrified me. I couldn’t let Leo have a breakdown. In the end, he went to the dorms. But he only lasted two weeks. 5 “Leo, my boy! Mom’s here to see you! Are you kicking your blankets off at night?” “Honey, you’ve only been here a week, and you look like you’ve lost five pounds!” “Your Aunt Carol and the girls miss you! She made you her famous chicken soup. You have to drink it while it’s hot.” I made the trip to his school every single day, a thermos of food in one hand and a bag of clean laundry in the other. “I can’t believe Leo is such a mama’s boy.” “I know, right? He’s in junior high, and he’s still so clingy.” “And when his mom called him ‘Leo, my boy’? I literally got goosebumps.” I overheard a few girls whispering in the hallway. Leo’s face was a mask of cold fury. After another week of my daily deliveries, he couldn’t take it anymore. He moved back home. At the end of his eighth-grade year, he placed second in his entire grade. He locked himself in his room again, refusing to come out for the entire day. “You got the second-highest score in the whole school. What more do you want?” I said, using the spare key to let myself in. “What good is second place?” he said, his face devoid of emotion. “He was still first.” I knew who ‘he’ was. “So, according to you, only the person in first place deserves to live? Everyone else should just give up?” “That’s not what I meant.” “That’s exactly what you meant!” I never argued with him, but this time, I had to. “So what if you beat Ethan Sterling? There will always be someone better than him out there. Are you going to spend your whole life trying to beat every single person on the planet?” “I… I just can’t stand it! Why? Why did my mother have to be the ‘villain’?” His voice cracked. “Why did my father disown me for some other woman? What did I do wrong?” “I just want to show him. I want to be the best. I want him to regret it. I want revenge for my mother.” Tears started streaming down his face as he spoke, and my heart ached for him. “Oh, you foolish kid,” I said softly. “If your mom were still alive, the only thing she would want is for you to be happy.” “And whether she was a villain or not isn’t for other people to decide. As long as you don’t believe it, then she’ll never be one in your heart.” “As for your father… he made his choice. Everyone makes their own choices. You don’t have to do anything because of a choice someone else made.” When I finished, Leo said nothing. He just curled up on his bed, lost in thought. I sighed and pulled a blanket over him. “You know, no matter what you score, you’ll always be number one to me. The absolute best.” Leo could be obsessive, but only about his own goals. He could be withdrawn, but he had never tried to hurt anyone. He might be the story’s “dark, paranoid villain,” but at the end of the day, he was just a child starved for love. I couldn’t understand why the subtitles had to be so cruel. Was this what gave keyboard warriors their sense of accomplishment? In the days that followed, Leo studied even harder. I knew my words wouldn’t change him overnight, but things were getting better. He no longer locked himself away, no matter how poorly he thought he’d done on a test. I thought the high school entrance exam would be a turning point. But disaster struck again. 6 “Is my entire life destined to be a failure?” “No matter how hard I try, it’s useless. Fate just loves to mess with me!” On the first day of the high school entrance exam, Leo was in a car accident. He was unconscious for two days. Just like with middle school, he missed the test. And Ethan Sterling was, once again, the top scorer in the city. A news report featuring an interview with him was playing on the hospital room TV. Leo sat on his bed, his knuckles white as he gripped the sheets. [The villain’s paranoid personality is about to be fully awakened. I bet he’s going to try and get revenge on the hero.] [What’s the point of revenge? He’s the hero. He can’t be killed.] [Honestly, I kind of feel bad for the villain. All that hard work for nothing.] I was terrified Leo would do something reckless. That he would snap. That he would go after Ethan. So, that night, I drove him out of the city. We drove for eight hours, crossed three mountain ranges, and took one ferry. Finally, we arrived at my grandmother’s house in the middle of nowhere. “Grandma, the kid bombed his exams and he’s throwing a fit. I’m leaving him with you for the summer,” I explained. “Watch him closely. Don’t let him wander off, especially not near the river.” I left her a thousand dollars and was gone before dawn. The next day, Leo somehow got his hands on a phone and called me. “Rosemary, you come get me right now. I need to repeat the year and study for the retake!” “What’s that? You want to jump in the lake? Sorry, can’t hear you, bad connection.” I hung up. He called back immediately. “If you don’t come get me, I’ll walk back myself.” Ha. No one had ever escaped from my grandma’s watch. Not even the livestock. [This is hilarious. The villain was ready for his comeback, and she just shipped him off to the countryside.] [Is this some kind of reality show? Look at him, his hair is all messed up.] [This woman is unbelievable. Does whatever she wants. A GPS would get lost trying to find that place.] The subtitles were having a field day. I chuckled as I shuffled my poker cards, reading their commentary. My grandma… she was one of a kind. A paranoid villain? She once made a wild monkey from the mountain do chores for two days before letting it go. Leo stood no chance. He stayed in the countryside for two months. His days were filled with feeding chickens, herding cattle, and cutting grass for the pigs. He was so exhausted by the end of the day that he’d fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, with no time to dwell on his misfortunes. His appetite grew, too. Grandma called to tell me he was eating three large bowls of rice at every meal and that I needed to send more money. September first rolled around. The autumn breeze signaled the start of a new school year. It was time to go get my son. 7 Standing at the entrance of the state’s top-ranked public high school, Leo hesitated. “You didn’t… do the same thing you did for middle school, did you?” he finally asked. I pulled his luggage from the trunk and grinned. “Of course not. This is a state-level magnet school. This one cost a hundred thousand.” “The principal couldn’t stop smiling. I think I paid for his new boat.” Perhaps because he’d grown accustomed to my methods over the years, he didn’t protest this time. As I was leaving the school, he suddenly called out to me. “I’m going to work hard these next three years. I won’t let you down. I won’t let your money go to waste.” Seeing his earnest expression, I patted his shoulder. “You’ve got it all wrong. I spent the money to make you happy, not to make you work yourself to death.” “As long as you’re happy for these three years, I don’t care if you’re a straight-F student.” “And after three years, if you still want to go to college, I’ll buy you a spot in one of those, too. Any fancy university you want. I’ve got the money.” The most important thing in life is to be happy. Everything else is just noise. “It’s not that I like school,” he started, “I just…” “I know. You have your own plans.” I cut him off gently. “But my plan is this: no matter what your plans are, or how they turn out, I will always be your safety net.” [Damn it, why am I getting emotional over this random woman?] [Me too. The villain’s life has been tragic, but finding a mother like her feels like winning the lottery.] [It won’t matter. A villain is a villain. The heroine is about to make her appearance. The real rivalry starts now.] What? I stopped in my tracks, focusing on every word of the subtitles. It took me a minute to piece it all together. The main heroine, a girl named Ava Chen, was about to enter the picture. And my son, the villain, was going to fall obsessively in love with her. For ten years, his obsession would drive him mad, leading to an intense rivalry with the hero. In the end, she would marry the hero, and Leo, in his despair, would kill himself. Absolutely not.

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I’d been chasing Leo Ashford for ages, and he still had the nerve to run on our wedding day. Just as I was about to give up, a thought flashed in my mind: [Sloane, he likes to be forced.] So I slapped him across the face. “Feeling the chill? Is the Ashford Group ready to go bankrupt? Now get your ass back there and get married.” On our wedding night, he hit me with a cold reminder: “I have no feelings for you.” My inner voice shot back: [He’s asking for another one.] So I slapped him again. “Feeling anything now? Get over here and kiss me.” After that, he spent his days simmering with resentment, sullenly hand-washing my lingerie with a look of pure hatred on his face. My intuition told me: [Give him the cold shoulder for a couple of days. He’ll learn his place.] But then, the one that got away came back to the country. I stopped coming home. That’s when he started to panic, posting on every anonymous forum he could find: [What do I do if my wife has another man on the side?] [How to outsmart the other man?] 1 He was supposed to be waiting at the altar. Instead, Leo Ashford was making a run for it. After all the time, the energy, the capital I’d invested in chasing him, he had the audacity to bolt on our wedding day. I was just about to cut my losses, call my father, and liquidate his family’s company for sport when a new thought sliced through the noise in my head, sharp and clear as a notification pop-up. The commentary: He likes to be forced, Sloane. He wants you to take control. I found him, just as my intuition—my own personal system for decoding the world—predicted. He was pacing the long, gilded hallway of the venue, lost and looking like a panicked show pony. The commentary: He’s been wandering in circles for thirty minutes. The man can’t even escape his own wedding. Someone get him a seeing-eye dog. A new record. Jilted at the altar before the groom even makes it past the coat check. I cornered him in a private sitting room. He turned his back to me, his shoulders squared in a pathetic attempt at defiance. “I’m not going to marry you, you old woman!” Old woman? I’m twenty-eight. He’s twenty-five. The drama. The commentary: He’s all talk. Time for a little… physical persuasion. He’s begging for it. Well, if the script says so. A smirk played on my lips. I loosened my wrists, took two quick steps forward, and slapped him across the face. The sound echoed in the silent room, sharp and satisfying. He spun around, his hand flying to his cheek, his blue eyes wide with disbelief. “Sloane… did you just fucking hit me?” “I did,” I said, examining my nails with a bored air. I held his gaze, letting the silence stretch. “It’s getting a little chilly in here, Leo. Is it time for the Ashford Group to go bankrupt?” The fight drained out of him instantly. His whole body slumped. I stepped into his space, my voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur. I looped my arms around his neck, my smile dangerously sweet. “Now, let’s try this again. Look at me,” I commanded, my eyes roaming over his perfect, pouty face. God, he was beautiful. “Am I old?” His gaze darted away, a flush creeping up his neck. “No…” he mumbled. The commentary: Yes! This is the content we came for. Dominate him. We live for the power dynamics. I tugged on his silk tie, slowly, deliberately tightening the knot until it was perfect. I patted his cheek—the one I hadn’t slapped. “Now,” I whispered, smiling brightly. “Go out there and greet our guests.” 2 Leo shuffled out of the room looking like a chastised puppy, and I had to admit, the kicked-dog look worked for me. It was a new, and surprisingly potent, addition to my very specific set of turn-ons. When he saw his parents, his face lit up with the desperate hope of a child spotting a lifeguard. He practically sprinted over to them, his eyes red-rimmed. “Mom, Dad! Sloane hit me!” Mr. Ashford barely blinked. “And what did you do to provoke her?” he asked, his tone suggesting he was already tired of this conversation. Leo’s jaw dropped. “What?” “Son, you need to learn. A little slap just means she cares,” his father said sagely. His mother nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly, dear. Of all the men in this city, Sloane chose to marry you. That must mean you have something special.” Leo looked like his whole world was crumbling. “You’re supposed to be on my side!” The commentary: Leo’s internal monologue: whimpers Who doesn’t love a man brought to his knees? Go get your man, Sloane! My family and the Ashfords go way back. We grew up in the same suffocatingly manicured circles, our parents members of the same country clubs. Leo was famously… simple. I was famously not. With a three-year age gap, the intellectual gap felt more like a chasm. I had a history of exploiting it. He used to follow me around like a shadow, his admiration palpable. I once traded him a handful of pistachio shells, convincing him they were rare, iridescent seashells I’d collected just for him. He later told me, with complete sincerity, “Sloane, those shells you gave me were amazing. They even tasted salty, like the ocean.” I told him when we grew up, I’d be his wife, and that wives were in charge of all the money. He’d dutifully hand over his allowance and even stole his mother’s gaudy diamond cocktail ring to try and slip it on my finger. My mother had scolded me, telling me to stop playing with the “slow” boy. As I got older, the age gap widened. He was in middle school when I was in high school. I had no time for a childish brat. Then my family moved to the Upper East Side, and he fell off my radar completely. Until last year. He’d just returned from a stint at a business school in Switzerland—a classic move for rich kids with bad grades—and I ran into him at a gallery opening. The short, chubby kid I remembered was gone. In his place was a six-foot-two masterpiece of broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and legs for days. The only thing that remained the same were his eyes: wide, startlingly clear, and just as endearingly stupid as I remembered. He was my type, dialed up to eleven. But he was impossible to crack. I tried everything—the flirty texts, the casual invitations, the full-court press—and he remained stubbornly aloof. “Sloane, I’m not interested. Stop wasting your time.” Then, fate intervened. The Ashford Group hit a rough patch. I saw my opening and proposed a merger, with one non-negotiable condition: a marriage contract. His parents didn’t hesitate for a second. They served up their beautiful, useless son on a silver platter. My own parents were less than thrilled. They thought Leo was nothing more than a pretty face, a liability. But I have my own money, more than I could ever spend. I like having pretty things. And if I was going to be forced into a marriage for appearances, why not choose one with a face that beautiful? We could have gorgeous children. And once I had the heir I wanted, I could always file for divorce. 3 At the reception, Leo drank too much champagne. Back in our suite, I showered and slipped into a silk nightgown that cost more than his monthly allowance. He took one look at me, his ears turning a shade of crimson, and grabbed a pillow, making a break for the door. “We’re married, Sloane. You got what you wanted.” His voice was slurred, but he tried for a cold, detached tone. “This is a business arrangement. No feelings involved. We’ll have separate lives. You stay out of mine, I’ll stay out of yours.” The commentary: He’s just flustered by the lingerie. Time for another dose of reality. He’s asking for it. I smiled sweetly and slapped him again, harder this time. “You’ve had a little too much to drink, and now you’re feeling bold,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I just injected ten million dollars into your family’s failing company. There will be no ‘separate lives.’” The second slap seemed to sober him up instantly. He stared at me, his mouth agape. “What… what do you see me as?” I gave him a dismissive once-over. “A legally sanctioned escort.” He sputtered, words failing him. “You… you…” The commentary: He’s close to breaking. Push him, Sloane! Leo took a hesitant step back, his bravado gone. “Can we… can we just take it slow? Maybe start with holding hands?” The commentary: Oh, he’s a virgin. How precious. A virgin? Well, that was… unexpected. And incredibly appealing. I crossed my arms, my voice firm with command. “Get in the shower. And make sure you’re clean when you come out to attend to me.” He shot me a furious glare and slammed the bathroom door. Half an hour passed. Nothing. “System,” I thought, my patience wearing thin, “what is he doing in there?” The commentary: He’s posting on Reddit. I pulled out my phone and found his profile. His latest posts were a train wreck. On r/relationship_advice: [25M] How do I resist… temptation? From my wife [28F]? A helpful user had replied with a link to a particularly skimpy lingerie set from Savage X Fenty. Another user commented: Dude, you married her. Isn’t the point to NOT resist? Leo had replied, frustrated: NO, I mean how do I RESIST IT. How do I maintain control! He’d followed it up with a new post. On r/TooAfraidToAsk: Need a step-by-step guide for your wedding night. Asking for a friend. URGENT. One of the top replies was simply: Pics or it didn’t happen. Finally, the shower turned on. An hour later, I’d had enough. Was he trying to run up the water bill? I walked over to the suite’s control panel and flipped the main breaker. A moment later, a panicked shout came from the bathroom. “Sloane! The power’s out!” “Oh,” I called back innocently. “The breaker must have tripped.” 4 When Leo finally emerged from the bathroom, he was wrapped in a plush robe, tied so tightly he looked like a panicked burrito. The commentary: Ah, the classic ‘hard to get’ routine. A bold strategy. My eyes traced the lines of his body through the thick terry cloth. I reached out to pull the knot loose. “What… what are you doing?” he stammered, clutching the robe to his chest. “Are you going to take it off, or do I have to do it for you?” I asked, my voice laced with impatience. His face was on fire, from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. “Sloane, have you no shame? Are you even a woman?” The commentary: Leo’s internal monologue: She’s so aggressive. I’m so… why is this happening to my body? My gaze drifted downward. Something was definitely happening to his body. “You’ll find out the answer to that soon enough,” I said, my own patience wearing thin. “You may have my body, but you will never have my heart!” he declared, a last-ditch effort at defiance. Seriously? Was he quoting a bad romance novel? I didn’t want his heart. I wanted the body. “Sloane… you can’t force this! A forced melon isn’t sweet!” It was such a strange, archaic saying. I had to stop myself from laughing. The commentary: You’ll never know if it’s sweet until you taste it. Do it, Sloane. Force the melon! I was starting to like this. “I don’t care if it’s sweet,” I purred, backing him toward the bed. “As long as it quenches my thirst.” And right now, I was very, very thirsty. The system in my head was practically screaming. [Go! Go! Go! NOW!] I shrugged off my own robe. Leo’s eyes widened, his face turning an impossible shade of red. “Sloane… be reasonable…” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “I told you, I don’t have feelings for you! You’re wasting your time!” The commentary: Buddy, your ‘little soldier’ is standing at full attention. Who do you think you’re kidding? He needs another push. The usual prescription. I slapped him. Not hard, just enough to get his attention. “How about now?” I commanded. “Do you have feelings now? Come here and kiss me.” He hung his head, sweat beading on his forehead, his mind clearly at war with his body. “Take off the robe,” I ordered. He clenched his jaw, then ripped the robe off in a single, angry motion. He had a swimmer’s build—lean muscle, perfectly defined without being bulky. I couldn’t resist reaching out and running a hand over his abs. The skin was hot and tight. His blush deepened. He looked like a martyr marching to his execution. “Kiss me,” I repeated. He ground his teeth and crashed his lips against mine. It was clumsy, all teeth and brute force. “Your technique is terrible,” I critiqued when he pulled away. A total novice. His hands were fumbling, unsure of where to go. “Just… stop talking,” he muttered. The commentary: He’s trying to remember the guide he just read in the bathroom. “You know what to do next, don’t you? Or do I need to teach you?” His voice was a raw, trembling whisper. “I know…” The commentary: Sloane, you should probably teach him. I ignored my inner voice. I wasn’t in a patient mood. Three seconds later. “Leo, are you fucking serious? Do you even know how this works?” One minute later. “Leo, gently. Jesus.” One minute and thirty seconds later. “Okay, that’s better. You can start now.” He collapsed onto the mattress beside me, panting. “It’s… it’s over…” I blinked. Then blinked again. “Over? What do you mean, over? I waited in a shower for an hour and a half, and you lasted ninety seconds?” The commentary: That’s… it? I’ve seen male leads last longer in a commercial break. Wait, are we sure this is the male lead? My poor Sloane. She deserves so much better. 5 I was furious. And filled with a profound sense of buyer’s remorse. He was all sizzle and no steak. A beautiful, useless sports car with a lawnmower engine. How could I have let a pretty face cloud my judgment so completely? Can you return a husband? Is there a lemon law for this? I shoved him off the bed with my foot. “A microwave burrito takes longer than you did! You lasted ninety seconds!” “That’s not my usual performance!” he protested from the floor, scrambling back up with a look of utter humiliation. “We can go again, Sloane. It was my first time…” My first time… I sighed. Fine. One more chance. It’s not like it would take long. Just as I was resigning myself to my fate, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my best friend, Maya. Maya: OMG. Guess who I just saw at The Carlyle bar? Maya: Your ghost. Ethan Cole is back in the city! The script in my head went haywire. [SYSTEM ERROR. MALE LEAD IDENTIFICATION FAILED. RECALIBRATING…] Wait a second. “Are you even a legitimate system?” I muttered to myself. [NEW STORYLINE INITIATED: THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY. MEETING AGAIN AFTER A LONG SEPARATION.] [PRIMARY MALE LEAD CANDIDATE: THE EX-BOYFRIEND, ETHAN COLE.] [SECONDARY CHARACTER ANALYSIS: The ‘pretty boy’ husband appears to be a minor, disposable role. A leading man should, at minimum, be capable of lasting through the night. Our beautiful, wealthy heroine deserves better.] Maya sent a photo. It was blurry, taken from across a crowded room, but it was him. A sharp profile, lips pressed into a thin line, glasses perched on his nose as he looked down at something. He radiated a cool, untouchable aura. The power of a ghost. One grainy photo and my heart was doing a staccato rhythm against my ribs. Sloane: ADDRESS. NOW. I leaped out of bed and started rummaging for an outfit, then moved to my vanity to fix my makeup. Leo was in the bathroom, kneeling on the floor, sullenly hand-washing my silk underwear in the sink. He glanced at my reflection in the mirror. “Where are you going this late, all dressed up?” “None of your business,” I said, concentrating on my eyeliner. “And for the record, I agree with your earlier proposal. Separate lives it is.” He grunted, a flash of anger in his eyes. “Fine by me!” He squeezed the fabric in his hand, and I heard a faint ripping sound. “Hey! Be careful with that!” I snapped. “My lingerie is more expensive than your pride.” Honestly, what was he good for? Nothing but a pretty face. The commentary: That face and that body, though. Shame about the performance issues. Maybe he can just stay home and do the laundry. He can be the quiet, supportive man behind the successful woman. 6 I took a cab to the address Maya sent. It was an exclusive members-only club, the kind where deals were made in hushed tones over hundred-dollar cocktails. As I arrived, a group was spilling out onto the sidewalk, their meeting clearly over. The city lights blurred around them, but I saw him immediately. Ethan. Tall and lean in a gray trench coat, his movements economical and precise. He turned his head, and for a split second, our eyes met across the crowd. The man who can make your heart stop with a single glance. No matter how much time has passed, that power never fades. “Ethan,” I said, my voice smoother than I felt. “Long time no see.” He stopped, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it settled back into a neutral mask. “Sloane. It has been a while.” The commentary: And here it is. The reunion scene. My money’s on the ghost. They’re both devastatingly handsome, but Ethan’s got that mature, intellectual vibe that just hits different. He wins. Look at the way their eyes are locked. The tension! This is the pairing we’ve been waiting for. “What a coincidence,” I said, forcing a casual smile. “What brings you to New York?” “I’m here for a case,” he said. His voice was just as I remembered—a low, calming baritone. “Right. You’re a big-shot lawyer now. I hear you’re one of the best.” Before I could continue, a man I recognized—a business associate of my father’s—chimed in. “Ms. Sterling! I didn’t know you knew Mr. Cole.” He beamed at me. “I heard about the wedding. Congratulations on your marriage! I haven’t had a chance to send a gift yet.” Damn him. Of all the people to run into. The polite smile on Ethan’s face froze. “You’re… married?” “Yes, but—” I started, scrambling for an explanation. His expression hardened, a shutter coming down over his eyes. I saw a flash of something—hurt, disappointment—before it was gone. “We should go,” he said to his companions, turning away without another word. “Ethan, wait—” I watched his back as he disappeared into a waiting car, a hollow ache spreading through my chest. Ethan was my first love, back in college. He was the brilliant, broke scholarship kid at Columbia Law. I fell for him instantly, but he was the proverbial man on the mountaintop, aloof and untouchable. It took me a full year of shameless pursuit to finally win him over. For three years, he was my entire world. He was gentle, attentive, and brilliant. But I always knew it had an expiration date. When graduation came, I told him I was moving to London for my master’s, and we had to break up. He’d looked at me, his eyes red with unshed tears. “Was I ever even in your plans, Sloane?” I was honest. “I love being with you, Ethan. But we can’t get married. I thought you understood that.” My marriage had to be a strategic alliance. It was a truth I’d been raised with. I loved Ethan, I loved the emotional sanctuary he provided, but that was all it could ever be. I would never throw away my family, my inheritance, for a boy with nothing but a brilliant mind and a crooked smile. After graduation, I went to London. He left New York. I’d dated other men—wealthy, powerful, suitable men—but I always found them lacking. Not as kind as Ethan. Not as handsome. Not as smart. Leo was the first man I’d met who even came close, physically. The same sharp jawline, the same tall, lean frame. But his personality was… abrasive. And his performance in bed was abysmal. Ethan was, and always would be, the gold standard. And seeing him again, my heart was already staging a full-blown insurrection. The system in my head flickered back to life. [ANALYSIS: Subject ‘Ethan Cole’ has not left the immediate vicinity.] [He’s waiting for you, Sloane. He’s pretending to leave, but he’s waiting.] [Go after him!] I gathered the hem of my dress and ran.

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Late one night, scrolling through my phone, I stumbled upon an anonymous post. [My sister-in-law is in love with me. Should I be with her?] It had only been up for half an hour, but the comment section was already a dumpster fire with over a thousand replies. One user called it out: [Another rage-bait post. You’re really using incest-lite as a gimmick to farm karma? Does your sister-in-law know you’re spreading this crap about her?] The original poster (OP) shot back immediately: [Spreading crap? After the way she acts around me?!] [What way? Seducing you?] someone pressed. [Not seducing, exactly. But she warms up milk for me every morning. She takes me out to dinner when I get off work. When I fight with my brother, she’s always the first one to comfort me.] [My brother’s out of town for a few days, so I’ve been dressing… lighter. And it’s working. After dinner tonight, she went straight to her room. She’s afraid that if we’re alone together, she won’t be able to control her feelings for me.] [Besides, I’m younger than my brother, in better shape, and I know how to treat a woman. If she had met me first, my brother never would have stood a chance.] The comment section was a sea of ellipses. […I don’t know if your sister-in-law is into you, but I know for a fact you’ve got a massive, unrequited crush on her.] [OP, please go see a therapist. It sounds like your sister-in-law is just being nice to you, like you’re her little brother.] [You guys don’t believe me?] OP was getting pissed. [I’m going to go ask her right now!] I was curled up in bed, thoroughly entertained by the drama. The next second, a knock came at my bedroom door. My brother-in-law’s voice drifted through the wood. “Maya? You asleep?” 1 I glanced at my phone, then at the door. I didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. A few seconds later, a new notification popped up from the post. [I think she’s asleep.] A chorus of digital jeers followed. [OP chickened out, didn’t he?] [Just go to bed, dude. Your sister-in-law only has eyes for your brother. She’s not into you.] [Seriously, OP. Go see a doctor.] [Heh, how did you know my sister-in-law is a doctor? You’re right. I should book an appointment with her so I can see her more often. Maybe it’ll give her the courage to finally confess her feelings for me.] Reading that, I went cold. I was now certain. The original poster was my brother-in-law, Ethan. And the sister-in-law he claimed was secretly in love with him… was me. I took a deep, shaky breath and rolled over, feeling a wave of exhaustion. My phone lit up again. An update from Ethan: [She’s definitely not asleep. I heard her move. She’s just too shy to open the door for me.] I held my breath, frozen. The comments immediately lit up. [Lmao. The self-delusion is lethal.] [OP, you should record a video when you ask her. We all want to see her reaction.] Ethan replied: [No, I can’t film her. She’s shy.] A user shot back: [Is she shy, or are you scared?] [You don’t get it. She’s beautiful even when she’s embarrassed. At the wedding, my brother just kissed her on the cheek in front of everyone, and she blushed so hard she couldn’t even speak. It was adorable.] [I’m not the coward. My brother is. He only dared to kiss her cheek. If it were me, I would have kissed her on the lips. Her lips are so soft. They look so… kissable.] I covered my face, unable to look at the screen anymore. Ethan, who always seemed so normal, so straight-laced, was coming off like a total creep. A new comment appeared: [OP, is your brother not good to you?] Ethan’s reply was instant: [My brother’s great. But she’s better. My stomach was killing me last week, and she made me soup and stayed with me.] [And then?] Ethan: [And then my brother came home, and she went to take care of him.] [But I get it. She has to put on a show in front of my brother. I don’t have a right to her yet, but I’m working on it. I’ll earn my place.] What was I even reading? A sigh escaped my lips. That soup was originally for Leo. He had to work late, so I gave it to Ethan instead. I couldn’t help myself. I typed a reply in the comments: [Is it possible she just sees you as a little brother?] [No way,] Ethan wrote. [I know she cares about me. It was raining today, and she sent me a text reminding me to bring an umbrella.] I pressed my fingers to my forehead. I’d sent that text to my entire family’s group chat. I heard a soft shuffling sound from the hallway. It sounded like Ethan had sat down, his back against my door. He posted another update. [If she doesn’t like me, why has she been avoiding me these last few days?] [She won’t even meet my eyes. You know what they say, eye contact is a spiritual kiss without the carnality. She must want to kiss me for real but is too afraid.] One user replied: [Okay, that actually makes a little sense. If she’s suddenly avoiding you, she must be hiding something.] [But based on what you said earlier about ‘dressing lighter’… what exactly were you wearing?] [A lacy butler costume,] Ethan wrote. The comment section fell silent. A hot blush crept up my neck as images of Ethan’s outfits from the past few days flashed through my mind. Leo had only been gone for three days, and in that time, Ethan had already paraded around in six different “light” outfits. Sheer shirts, tops with strategic cutouts, a pearl body chain… I hadn’t just been avoiding eye contact; I’d wanted to claw my own eyes out and scream indecent exposure. I had assumed Ethan just had some… unique hobbies. Now I realized he was wearing those things for me. I would have preferred the unique hobbies. A new comment voiced my exact thoughts: [Dude, you’re probably scaring the hell out of her.] I bit down on my duvet, nodding furiously. I’d been so terrified I’d barely looked up all week. Ethan refused to believe it. [No way. The way she looks at me is different.] [I’ve made up my mind. I’m telling her how I feel tomorrow.] [Love is something you fight for, not something you wait for. Instead of waiting for her to work through her feelings, I’m going to make the first move. While my brother’s out of town, I’m going to make her mine.] The comments erupted. [Don’t do it… I really don’t think your sister-in-law feels the way you think she does.] [OP, do you have good insurance? I can get you a referral to a great psychiatrist. Let’s get you healthy before you confess anything, okay?] [Your brother is going to kill you.] Ethan: [For her, it’s worth it.] I took a deep breath and typed one last comment. [I suggest you don’t confess. Otherwise, you might not even have a family left to come home to.] Just then, a video call from Leo popped up on my screen. Outside my door, I heard Ethan scramble to his feet, followed by the notification of his final, hurried update: [Gotta go. My brother is calling to check up on his wife. He’s so damn insecure, calls her every single day. So annoying.] 2 I waited until I was sure Ethan was gone before I answered the call. Leo’s face filled the screen. He had deep-set eyes, a strong nose, and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. They were brothers, but where Ethan was a charming, boyish kind of handsome, Leo possessed a magnetism that was both intense and commanding. It was that look that had stolen my breath at a friend’s wedding three years ago, compelling me to walk right up and ask for his number. “Why’d it take you so long to answer?” he asked. His voice, low and rich, rumbled through the phone. I opened my mouth, Ethan’s delusional words swirling on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back down. It wasn’t about protecting Ethan; it was about preventing Leo from flying home and breaking both his legs. “I was asleep,” I lied. Leo studied me, his gaze sharp and unwavering for a couple of seconds. “Really?” “Mhm.” His expression softened, the hard lines of his face relaxing. “The project isn’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped. I might have to stay a few more days.” “It’s okay,” I said, my smile feeling a little tight. No big deal. I’d just have to get better at avoiding Ethan. He asked casually, “Ethan hasn’t been giving you any trouble, has he?” My fingers tightened on my phone. I kept my face neutral. “He’s been quiet. Just… likes to, uh… change his clothes a lot.” On the other end of the line, Leo scoffed. “He better be quiet.” “But still… keep your distance,” he added. “He’s an adult now.” I nodded quickly. “I will.” Leo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “How come you’re so agreeable this time?” I looked down, avoiding his gaze. I couldn’t exactly say, Because I just found out your brother has a massive, creepy crush on me. “Didn’t you used to say he was just a kid?” he pressed, his tone probing. “He’s twenty-two. That’s not a kid,” I said softly. Thinking about how my kindness had been so horribly misinterpreted made my ears burn. Leo watched me for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face, but in the end, all he said was, “Remember to lock your door.” After we hung up, I refreshed the post and saw Ethan’s latest update: [Tomorrow, I’m making a candlelight dinner. When she’s moved by the gesture, I’ll tell her everything.] Users were begging him to calm down. Ethan replied: [She’s so good to me. There’s no way she’ll say no.] I silently turned my phone off. It was clear that just keeping my distance wasn’t going to be enough. 3 Five in the morning, before the sun was up. I tiptoed out of my bedroom, shoes in hand, holding my breath as I passed Ethan’s door. I didn’t exhale until I had softly clicked the front door shut behind me. After finishing a long surgery, I checked the post again. Ethan had been posting nonstop since seven a.m. [My sister-in-law is gone. No warm milk this morning…] [I bet my damn brother said something to her behind my back.] [I can’t give up. I have to rescue her from him!] The comment section was on fire. [OP, has it ever occurred to you that the milk was basic hospitality, taking you to dinner was to keep you from starving, and comforting you was to maintain peace in the family? You’re not special to her. Stop being delusional.] [Why’d you delete my comment, OP? You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.] [Dude, stop trying to reason with him. This kid is a lost cause. Just let his brother beat him up.] I rubbed my temples and closed the tab. At seven p.m., Ethan updated again. He posted a picture: a dining table draped in a white cloth, set with steak, candles, and even rose petals. [Candlelight dinner is ready. Just waiting for my angel to come home. She’s going to be so touched when she sees this.] The comments exploded. [He’s actually doing it? I’ll bet five hundred bucks she turns you down flat.] [I’ll raise you a thousand and bet your brother comes home and rearranges your face.] Ethan shot back: [She won’t say no.] [And my brother won’t hit me. He always wants the best for her, and I’m the best. He should be happy to see us together.] The comment section was flooded with question marks. [???] [That logic… does your brother know you think that way?] [Does your SISTER-IN-LAW know you think that way?] [I honestly don’t even know where to begin with this.] I silently upvoted that last one. Checking the time, I put my phone down and went back to my patient charts. It wasn’t until the charge nurse reminded me my shift was over that I realized it was already 10:30 p.m. When I got to my front door, the lights were still on. Through the window, I could see Ethan sitting at the dining table, glancing at the door every few seconds. I turned around and walked to a 24-hour CVS. I lingered in the aisles until 11:30, figuring he would have given up and gone to bed by then. When I pushed the door open, only a small nightlight glowed in the living room. Ethan was asleep on the sofa, a bouquet of roses resting near his hand. The steak was cold, the candles burned down to melted stumps. As quietly as possible, I cleared the dishes into the kitchen, scraping the food into the trash. Even the roses and the card tucked inside them went into the bag. After cleaning everything up, I went to my room, and left the house again before dawn. Walking down the empty street, I felt like a fugitive. 4 The next morning, I got a text from Ethan: [Maya, did you come home last night?] I paused from typing up my notes and simply replied: [What’s up?] The little bubbles indicating he was typing appeared for a long time before he finally sent back two words: [Nothing.] His cold tone was a relief. It seemed he’d finally gotten my hint. Coming home late was my way of saying it was never going to happen, and cleaning everything up while he slept was my way of saying we should pretend it never happened. Ethan was smart; he had to have understood. It wasn’t until I opened the post again that I realized how naive I’d been. Ethan was on a posting spree: [WTF! The candlelight dinner vanished into thin air.] [I know I fell asleep in the living room waiting, and when I woke up, everything was gone. Cleaned up.] [I didn’t see my sister-in-law, just a ghost. I asked if she came home, and she never answered.] The comments were full of laughing emojis. [Maybe you cleaned it up in your sleep?] [She definitely came home, saw it, and got rid of it all.] [My guess is she’s figured you out, and this is her way of gently rejecting you.] I silently upvoted that comment. Beneath it, Ethan replied hesitantly: [Really…? But if she knows how I feel, why won’t she just say something?] [I thought we both felt the same way…] The replies were brutal. [Are you sure it’s mutual and not just you projecting?] [Dude, the person she loves is your brother. Not you.] Ethan immediately fired back: [You don’t know anything. My brother tricked her into marrying him. She doesn’t actually love him.] [Do tell.] Ethan’s reply came quickly: [My brother fell for her at first sight. He found out she was a bridesmaid at his employee’s wedding and went specifically for her, dressed to the nines. He knew what he was doing, using his face to get her attention.] [Then one time she got drunk, and I told my brother to unbutton his shirt a little while he took care of her. With his face and that body, who wouldn’t get flustered? She basically forced herself on him.] [Another time, he wanted to buy her a purse, but I told him to get her a custom set of surgical scalpels instead. Her eyes lit up when she saw them. The next day, she said yes to his proposal.] [There’s nothing between them but manipulation. I’m different. My feelings for her are real.] The comments were in an uproar. [Wait, so your brother’s entire successful courtship was orchestrated by YOU?] [OP, I’m confused. If you like your sister-in-law so much, why did you push her toward your brother?] Ethan replied, indignant: [I had never even met her back then! My brother guarded her from me like I was a thief. If I’d seen her first, we’d probably have kids by now.] One comment hit the nail on the head: [Your brother probably saw this coming a mile away. That’s why he kept you two apart.] [Brothers with the same taste. He was afraid you’d try to steal his girl.] Reading that, it suddenly clicked. I finally understood why Leo had always been so subtly, deliberately keeping Ethan and me at arm’s length. I used to think he was overreacting. Now, I realized he was afraid Ethan would develop feelings for me. But Leo really did play his cards close to his chest. I had always believed our first meeting was at that wedding, and that I had been the one to pursue him. Now, it seemed Leo had known who I was long before that. And he had intentionally used that handsome face of his to catch my eye. What bothered me more was the memory of that night. I was drunk, and Leo was taking care of me, his shirt collar slightly open, his breathing ragged but restrained. I’d thought I was the one who initiated things, but looking back now, his every subtle reaction was perfectly calibrated. Even his suppressed groans had a faint, alluring quality. I should have been angry, but instead, my cheeks were burning. To think that Leo had been watching me for so long. That he had been the one to fall first. As I was lost in thought, Ethan posted another update: [My brother’s coming back soon. I’ve decided to lay my cards on the table before he gets here. When it comes to winning someone’s heart, I’m a pro!] I immediately closed the page and sent a text to Leo. [When exactly did we first meet?] And then: [And you better get home soon. Someone’s trying to wreck it.] 5 The next day at noon, just as I stepped out of the exam room, Ethan was there, blocking my path in the hallway. There were dark circles under his eyes. He looked at me, his expression pitiful. “Maya… have you been avoiding me?” I sighed internally. The moment I’d been dreading was finally here. “Ethan, the flowers and the card from the other night—I threw them away. You should know what that means.” I tried to step around him, but he grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “I have something to say to you.” Without another word, he pulled me into a deserted stairwell, the heavy door clicking shut and sealing us off from the rest of the hospital. Before he could speak, I cut in. “Ethan, I’ve always seen you as my own little brother.” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Really? Closer than you are with Leo?” I was speechless, momentarily stunned by his bizarre interpretation. “That’s not what I…” I tried to explain, but he took a deep breath and interrupted me. “Maya,” he said, his voice dropping, the tips of his ears turning red. “I know… I know you like me, too. You’re just worried about what people will think, and you’re shy, so you keep trying to run away from me.” He paused, as if gathering his courage. “So… so I decided I can’t wait anymore. I have to be the one to make a move. Maya, I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time.” He stumbled over the words, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. He looked like any other young man experiencing his first crush. “Ethan,” I said, keeping my voice as gentle as possible. “You’ve misunderstood. My feelings for you have only ever been familial. Nothing more.” The color drained from his face. “Is it because of Leo?” he asked urgently. “Did he force you to say that? He’s so cold and rigid, he doesn’t know how to be gentle. He’s manipulative! He doesn’t deserve you! He…” He launched into a tirade, listing all of Leo’s supposed flaws, his voice growing more agitated. I listened quietly until he ran out of steam, then shook my head. “This isn’t about him. You can’t force these things. I don’t have romantic feelings for you. You’re a great guy, and you’ll find someone who is right for you.” Ethan’s eyes welled up, and without warning, tears began to roll down his cheeks. Seeing him cry made my chest ache. My voice softened. “Don’t be like this, Ethan…” Just then, he suddenly grabbed my hand. With his other, he lifted the hem of his t-shirt, revealing the black lace lingerie wrapped around his waist. “Just… just touch it, Maya.” His voice was choked with tears as he stubbornly tried to press my hand against his stomach. “My body is way better than my brother’s. Please, just give me a chance…” I was so shocked I could barely move. My fingers were inches from the lace when a cold, sharp voice cut through the air. “What the hell are you two doing?”

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Liam was, for all intents and purposes, my brother. In reality, he was the boy my parents raised to be my husband. After my father died, my mother, terrified Liam would abandon us, did the unthinkable. She drugged him and locked him in my room. That one act of desperation cost him his one true love, the girl who was his sun, his moon, and all his stars. In the life that followed, he chained my mother in the basement like an animal. And he spent his nights making sure I couldn’t live, but wouldn’t die. “We’re never going to be apart, Ava,” he’d whisper, his voice a venomous caress. “Isn’t this what you wanted, my dear little sister?” I opened my eyes to the sight of my own blood pooling around me. And then I was back. Back to the moment it all began, with his body pressing down on mine… 1 A guttural sound escaped my throat. A scorching weight crushed me, a storm of kisses landing on the delicate skin of my neck. The iron chain around my ankle sang its cold, metallic song with every thrust of his body, a rhythm of my despair. Liam’s fingers tightened around my throat, a cruel smile twisting his handsome face. “A hunger strike, Ava? Is that your latest little game?” he hissed. “For every day you refuse to eat, I’ll make your mother’s life twice as miserable. Let’s see what breaks first. Your spirit… or her bones.” “Liam.” My eyes, dull and lifeless, shifted to meet his. I spoke his name, and the word hung in the air between us. His movements froze. His voice, when he spoke again, was laced with ice. “What did you just call me?” Never before. Not then, not in the life that came after. In more than twenty years, I had never once called him by his given name without a title. From the time I was a little girl, I knew I was destined to marry him. You don’t call your future husband ‘brother.’ But today… I wanted to. “Brother,” I whispered, a faint, hollow smile touching my lips as my gaze drifted into nothingness. “Seven years, Liam. Hasn’t it been long enough?” From the day he married me, the day he took complete control of the company my father left behind, this brutal revenge had stretched on for seven agonizing years. In the beginning, I fought. I demanded a divorce, offered reparations, tried to end my own life in a dozen different ways. But in the end, I was forced to surrender. He held my mother’s life in his hands. If I was compliant, her dog’s life in the basement became marginally more bearable. So, this hunger strike wasn’t a protest. It was simply… that I couldn’t eat. I never knew late-stage stomach cancer could be this excruciating. “Enough?” Liam’s lip curled into a sneer. He gripped my chin, forcing a thin, tasteless porridge between my teeth. “Ava, what you owe me can never be repaid in this lifetime. You and your mother were so afraid I’d leave you, weren’t you? Well, I promise you this: we will never be apart. Are you satisfied now… sister?” I choked down half the bowl before my body rebelled, spewing the contents back out. Liam’s face darkened. He flipped me over with a violent shove, his fingers tangling brutally in my long hair. “You won’t eat? Fine! Then we’ll just keep going.” Forced to my knees on the bed, I endured his punishing conquest, a tearing pain that was both physical and spiritual. I bore it until the churning, metallic taste in my stomach could no longer be contained. Blood, bright and crimson, spilled from my lips, staining the pristine white sheets. His voice, suddenly laced with panic, echoed in my ears. His hands moved frantically, trying to wipe away the blood that only seemed to multiply. “Ava! Ava, what’s wrong with you?!” My body collapsed. I stared up at the dazzling crystal chandelier, a laugh of pure liberation bubbling up from my chest. “Liam… we’re even now,” I gasped, my vision blurring. “Let my mother go.” 2 My head was spinning, but a heavy weight pressed down on my body, pinning me in place. I frowned, my eyelids fluttering open. The ceiling that greeted me was familiar, yet achingly distant. I froze. I wasn’t dead? Where had Liam taken me? This wasn’t a hospital, and it wasn’t the bedroom where he had kept me chained for seven years. It looked… it looked like the home we once shared. My childhood home. Rip. The sound of tearing fabric was followed by a rush of cool air against my chest. A hand, with long, elegant fingers, covered my breast. A violent tremor shot through me, my skin erupting in goosebumps. My gaze darted down, and I fell into a pair of crimson-red eyes. A much younger Liam, his eyes clouded with a feverish haze, his breathing ragged and heavy. One scorching kiss, then another, landed just above my heart. A bolt of lightning split my mind in two, leaving me shaking uncontrollably. This… this was the night. The night my mother drugged him. My eyes scanned the room, the familiar furniture, the posters on the wall. I was sure of it. This was that exact night. Only last time, I had been knocked out cold by a painkiller my mother gave me for a stomachache, sleeping through the entire catastrophe. I hadn’t been able to stop the mistake from happening. But this time, by some divine mercy, I was awake. “Liam! Liam, calm down!” I cried out, my voice raw with panic. “Look at me! It’s Ava, your sister!” His body went rigid. He lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes staring at me in a fog of confusion for a few seconds, his brow furrowed. But I had severely underestimated my mother’s determination to “succeed, by any means necessary.” She had poured nearly half a bottle of high-proof liquor down his throat. That, combined with the “special ingredient” she’d mixed in, meant his moment of clarity didn’t last three seconds before it was completely overwhelmed. His hand slid down the curve of my waist, fumbling, desperate, and clumsy as it snagged the waistband of my underwear— 3 CRASH! I grabbed the glass jar from my nightstand—the one filled with a thousand paper stars I’d folded for him—and brought it down hard on the back of his head. The glass shattered, sending a galaxy of colorful, hand-folded stars scattering across the bed. Liam’s body tensed, then slumped forward, a dead weight on top of me. He was unconscious. I lay there, gasping for breath, my eyes squeezed shut in sheer, post-adrenal terror. Thank God. Thank God. A buzzing vibration started up from somewhere beneath the bed. I shoved Liam’s dead weight off me, trying to sit up and find the source of the noise. But as I pushed myself up, the world tilted violently. The drug my mother had slipped into my painkiller was finally taking its full effect. My stomach churned, and a black fog began to creep in at the edges of my vision. Just before I lost consciousness, I remembered what was vibrating. It was Liam’s phone. And the person calling was the girl he secretly, desperately loved. The girl he held in his heart like a sacred prayer. Isabelle Croft. … “Oh, Isabelle, you’re here!” “You’re looking for Liam?” “Come in, come in.” The voices drifted from downstairs. It was my mother, welcoming a guest. I clutched my throbbing head and forced myself to sit up. Outside my window, the sky was bright with morning light. A flurry of footsteps was heading straight for my room. “Liam is in Ava’s room,” my mother said cheerfully. “Oh? This early? What’s he doing in Ava’s room?” a sweet, feminine voice asked. In an instant, my mind cleared. My heart plummeted. This is bad. 4 Isabelle Croft. Our former neighbor. We grew up in the same exclusive, gated community, three prominent families side-by-side: the Donovans, the Crofts, and the Reeds. Liam and Isabelle were the quintessential “perfect kids.” They were rivals from the day they met, competing over everything—grades, sports, debate club—from high school all the way through college. To an outsider, they looked like mortal enemies. But everyone knew it was just a pretense. The only thing standing between them was the unspoken truth of our family: my father had taken Liam in for one purpose—to groom a successor, and a husband for his daughter. So, Liam and Isabelle made a pact. On the day of their college graduation, they would finally tell my mother the truth. He would repay our family for raising him, for giving him everything. But he would not—could not—do it by marrying me. Instead, my mother got him drunk, drugged him, and he never answered her call. Worried something had happened, Isabelle came looking for him the next morning. And my mother, with practiced casualness, led her right upstairs to witness the “surprise” on my bed. Heartbroken and humiliated, Isabelle went home, accepted an arranged marriage with another family, and disappeared from his life. And Liam, consumed by a bottomless well of regret and hatred, shackled himself to me for the next seven years… A low groan came from the floor beside my bed. The unconscious Liam stirred. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his brow furrowed in pain as he reached back to touch his head. “Oww—” His vacant eyes slowly came into focus, finally landing on my face. Liam’s entire body went rigid, a violent tremor shaking his frame. “Ava!” He lunged toward me, his hands trembling as they frantically ghosted over my face, my lips, as if trying to wipe something away. His voice was a raw mix of fury and a terror so profound it made his words shake. “Who told you you could spit up blood? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?! You don’t even have my permission to die, do you hear me! If you dare to die, I’ll torture your mother until she begs for death!” His words hit me like a physical blow. My body froze, and a cold, sharp tremor pierced my heart. “Liam, you…” You remember too, don’t you? 5 Before I could finish, the doorknob turned. The door began to swing open. Panic surged through me. There was no time to think. I kicked out, sending Liam tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. In the same motion, I yanked the duvet up to my chin, covering my naked body. The scattered paper stars rustled, many of them falling to the floor around him. “Liam, are you okay?” Isabelle rushed in, her eyes wide with alarm at the sight of him on the ground. She hurried over to help him up. Liam just stared at her, as if seeing a ghost. It was a long moment before he breathed her name, his voice thick with disbelief. “Isabelle?” “Yes,” she said, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. “I called you last night, but you didn’t answer. I was worried something might have happened, so… I came to check.” Liam’s pupils contracted sharply. He did exactly what I had done—his eyes darted around the room, a look of stunned disbelief on his face as the reality of our shared rebirth settled over him. But my mother, who hadn’t been reborn, had a far more dramatic reaction. Seeing that we weren’t tangled in the sheets together, her voice rose several octaves. “What happened? Why aren’t you two—” “Mom!” I cut her off sharply. “Liam was just bringing me my stomach medicine, and I accidentally knocked it over.” I gestured to the floor. “Could you get me another glass? And maybe ask Maria to come sweep up this glass? Ugh, my star jar broke, too. What a shame.” My eyes flicked to Isabelle, who was visibly relieved. I offered her a weak smile. “Are you here to see my brother, Isabelle?” “Yes,” she nodded, her gaze shyly finding Liam’s. By now, Liam had composed himself. He took a slow, deep breath, his eyes fixed on her face. His voice was low and raspy. “Isabelle. It’s been… a long time.” 6 Liam and Isabelle left to talk. But before he walked out the door, he insisted on cleaning up the broken glass in my room himself. Including every last one of the scattered paper stars. He was meticulous, picking up each one until not a single star was left behind. As he stood in the doorway, holding the small trash bag, he gave my mother and me one last, long look. His eyes were deep, dark pools of unreadable emotion. But in the end, he said nothing, and gently closed the door behind him. I didn’t dwell on it. I collapsed back onto the bed, letting out a long sigh of relief. “That was too close.” “Ava,” my mother whispered, her face pale as she sat on the edge of my bed. Her expression was one of utter despair. “Don’t you love Liam? Why didn’t you… keep him here?” A familiar ache tightened in my chest. But this time, it was followed by a wave of acceptance. “But he doesn’t love me, Mom. You can’t force something like that. We can’t just cash in on his gratitude like this. It’s not a business deal.” Tears streamed down my mother’s face as she covered it with her hands, her shoulders shaking with hopeless sobs. “But what if Liam really marries Isabelle? What if he leaves us? What about your father’s company?” I knew, deep down, what this was really about. It wasn’t just the fear of losing the boy she’d carefully groomed to be her son-in-law. It was the terror of losing the empire my father had built. I had no head for business; my life had been dedicated to the piano. Liam was the successor my father had hand-picked and trained. But if he didn’t marry me, he was, for all intents and purposes, an outsider. What if he took over the company and turned on us, setting a trap to take everything? He couldn’t be trusted the way a son-in-law could. “But Mom,” I said, wrapping the duvet around myself and leaning over to hug her. “If you manipulate him like this, don’t you think he’ll hate you for it? What if he marries me, takes over the company, and then traps us both in this house to make our lives a living hell? We wouldn’t just lose our protector; we’d lose any power to fight back at all. The only person you can truly count on… is me.” My mother’s sobs subsided. She stared at me for a long time, her eyes searching my face. Finally, she nodded. “Ava, I’ll find you a good husband. Someone who can take over your father’s company.” I just stared at her. That’s… not what I meant, Mom. Was it possible? That maybe, just maybe… I didn’t need a husband to solve this problem? 7 By ten-thirty that night, Liam still hadn’t come home. Isabelle, however, had updated her Instagram story at eight. It was a candid shot of Liam in profile, looking at her. The caption read: You’re worth being brave for. I silently liked the post and left a heartfelt comment: Congratulations, you two! So happy for you! Not long after, my phone rang. The voice on the other end was cool and magnetic, but his words were brief. “Come outside.” “I’m in front of your house.” I bit my lip, an odd feeling stirring inside me. “Okay,” I said softly. I grabbed a jacket from my bed and was about to head out when my mother suddenly perked up. “Ava, is that Nate?” “Yeah,” I nodded, my hand pausing on the doorknob. Nate Reed. The youngest son of the Reed family, our neighbors. My childhood best friend. In my last life, he was the unlucky soul who entered an arranged marriage with Isabelle, only to be targeted by a jealous and resentful Liam. Their rivalry had destroyed them both. My mother, oblivious to my hesitation, was already buzzing with excitement. “You know, I think Nate is a wonderful young man. We know his family, he’s from a good background, our families are a perfect match…” Click. The door suddenly opened from the outside, bumping gently against me. Liam stepped inside, bringing the crisp autumn chill in with him. In his hands were two takeout containers of fried noodles from the place my mother and I loved. He glanced at the jacket I was wearing, his voice cool. “Where are you going so late?” 8 I paused, my fingers unconsciously tightening on my jacket. In my past life, Isabelle and Nate had faded from my world so quickly. I never knew if their marriage had been a happy one. All I knew was that from that day forward, Liam despised Nate. Every time they crossed paths, Liam’s mood would turn black. And he would come home and take it out on me, in silence… “Just… for a walk,” I mumbled, avoiding the question of who I was meeting. I sidestepped Liam and walked out the door. “Mom,” Liam said as he came inside, slipping off his shoes and placing the food on the table, his demeanor perfectly normal. “I brought you both some dinner.” My mother’s eyes glistened. “Liam, about last night… I was just so afraid…” “Mom,” Liam interrupted her with a gentle smile. “I understand. And please, believe me when I say this: I will never forget what your family has done for me. It doesn’t matter who I marry. I will never abandon you and Ava. Let’s just let the past be the past.” My mother choked back a sob and nodded repeatedly. As she was about to speak, she heard Liam, who was casually unwrapping a pair of disposable chopsticks, ask as if it were an afterthought, “Is it really safe for Ava to be out by herself this late?” “Oh, don’t worry about her,” my mother chuckled. “She’s meeting Nate. As long as he’s with her, she’ll be fine. Liam, what do you think? About Ava and Nate? Don’t you think they make a rather handsome couple?” Snap. The disposable chopstick in Liam’s hand broke in two. 9 Under the amber glow of a streetlight, a silver Lotus sat parked quietly by the curb. Sleek, understated, just like the man who drove it. The driver’s side window was halfway down, revealing a sharp, handsome profile. When he saw me, he gave a slight nod toward the passenger seat. “Get in.” I lowered my eyes, pulling the door open and sliding inside. The tension in my body immediately began to unwind, and I let out a soft breath. “Want to go watch the sunrise?” Nate’s deep, resonant voice filled the quiet car. I blinked, then shook my head. “No.” He glanced over at me. “Find a bar? Have a good cry?” I shook my head again, this time with a small sigh. “No need. Honestly. It doesn’t hurt that much.” I couldn’t deny that it hurt. A little. But mostly… I was happy for them. Nate shot me a skeptical look. “If you say so.” I knew he didn’t believe me. He, more than anyone, knew how much I had loved Liam. How I had spent my entire life waiting to marry him. “Nate, I know this might sound sudden, but… I really am over him. I’m happy that he and Isabelle are together.” Nate’s fingers, which were resting on the steering wheel, tightened abruptly. He turned his head, his dark, intense gaze studying my face for a long moment. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “The star jar I gave you the other day. Did you open it?” 10 I froze, a wave of embarrassment washing over me. “Well, I… I hit something with it. So it opened. But I wouldn’t exactly say I opened it…” Nate’s face was a canvas of confusion. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned toward me. The space between us shrank until, from the outside, it must have looked like we were about to kiss. He stared into my eyes, and his voice was laced with a surprising nervousness. “What do you mean, you ‘wouldn’t say you opened it’? You didn’t give it to someone else, did you?” “Ah,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt. “I didn’t give it away, it’s just—” The car door beside me was suddenly ripped open. Before I could even react, a hand clamped around my arm and yanked me out of the car. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. Outside, Liam stood like a storm cloud in a black wool coat, his expression cold and severe. The hand gripping my arm felt like a vise, strong enough to shatter bone. His eyes were dark with a furious, possessive rage. “You let him kiss you, Ava? You were going to let him kiss you?! You said yes to him?!” I was stunned. “He wasn’t…” kissing me. “What’s the matter, Liam? Don’t approve of me as your brother-in-law?” From inside the car, Nate sat up straight. His expression was challenging as he looked at Liam through the half-open window. His voice remained calm, but every word was a sharpened dart. “You’ve got your own love life to worry about, brother. Why are you so concerned about your sister’s? Aren’t you afraid Isabelle will get jealous?” Liam’s jaw tightened, his tone hostile. “My concern for my own sister is none of your business.” “Hah.” Nate smirked. “Is she really just your sister…?”

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1 My husband was adamant: no children. So, on the day we married, I made a sacrifice for him. I had my tubes tied. Twenty years later, a stock agreement for Lockwood Industries landed on my desk. And on it were the names of two children: Hank and Lily. A quiet, thorough investigation revealed the crushing truth. They were my husband’s twins, born ten years ago. And my retired in-laws, who were supposedly living out their golden years abroad, had been by their side all along. The revelation struck me like a lightning bolt from a clear blue sky. I confronted him, my voice trembling with rage. “Why?” He answered with a chilling calm. “It was for Jessica. To honor her parents.” My vision blurred with tears as I stared at him, the argument that followed tearing our world apart. Friends and family rushed to his defense, their words like salt in an open wound. “You’ve been married for twenty years,” they’d say. “Is it really worth throwing away over a couple of kids? Stephen still loves you, or he wouldn’t have hidden it from you for so long.” “And think about it, Julia. With your poor health all these years, he never once complained. Lockwood Industries is a massive company; it needs an heir.” I looked at Stephen, my heart aching. He stood there, silent. Even in his forties, he was as handsome and imposing as ever, his posture perfect, his hair still a deep, solid black. “If you promise never to see them again,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth, “I won’t file for divorce. That’s the most I can offer.” Stephen stood up and slowly, deliberately, slid the wedding band from his finger. “They’re my family, Julia. My children. I can’t abandon them.” He looked at me without a trace of guilt, his eyes clear and steady. “If you can’t let this go, then maybe it’s best if I move out for a while.” My hands clenched into fists, the last remnants of hope dying within me. “Stephen,” I said, my voice finally steady. “Let’s get a divorce.” Before he could answer, my father’s hand cracked across my face. “Stephen is a wonderful husband! How dare you ask for a divorce? I’ll break your legs!” My cousin chimed in, his voice frantic. “Julia, think about how much he’s done for our family! They’re just kids! You don’t even have to raise them. You’d throw everything away for something so small?” A chorus of persuasion erupted around me. Stephen’s expression hardened, a deep frown creasing his brow. “Julia… that’s not what I meant.” A tight, sharp pain seized my chest. I tilted my head back, forcing back the burning tears. “What you meant doesn’t matter anymore, Stephen. You broke our vow.” A shadow fell over his features, obscuring his emotions. “Julia, we’re not young anymore. We’ve been through so much together. I thought you, of all people, would understand.” “I was just keeping a promise to Jessica,” he continued, his tone laced with a sense of weary justification. “It was about responsibility, not love. Why are you making this into something it’s not?” He spoke of his own difficult position, gently chiding me for my narrow-mindedness. But to me, his words were a bitter poison. My years of understanding and sacrifice had only taught him that he could betray me without consequence. I closed my eyes. Twenty years ago, back in college, I was falsely accused and ostracized. It was Stephen who stood up for me, the noble, righteous man who captured my heart. I never thought our paths would truly cross. A year after graduation, his family’s company was on the brink of collapse. His half-brother had colluded with a rival to forge contracts and embezzle company funds. As Lockwood Industries teetered on the edge of bankruptcy, I quit my job and poured everything I had into helping him. We begged for help, swallowing our pride and countless glasses of cheap liquor to secure deals. For five grueling years, we fought tooth and nail to bring his company back from the dead. On our wedding night, he told me he never wanted children, that the betrayal from his brother had soured him on the idea of family. Without a second thought, I had the procedure. A year later, when our parents started pressuring us, I weathered the storm of gossip and presented them with forged medical reports stating I was infertile. After that, a river of foul-tasting herbal remedies was forced down my throat. Stephen would hold me, his voice thick with guilt. “Julia, let’s just tell them the truth. This is going to make you sick.” I looked him in the eyes. “Are you sure you can handle the pressure? There’s a world of difference between not wanting kids and not being able to have them.” I held his gaze. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you.” He hesitated. I told him then that if he ever changed his mind, if the fear subsided and he wanted a child, I would reverse the surgery. We would have a baby of our own. He nodded, agreeing. Ten years ago, the pressure from his parents suddenly stopped. My mother-in-law ceased her daily ritual of forcing bitter concoctions on me with a resentful glare. They announced they were retiring abroad, leaving the house and their lives in our hands. I thought they had finally accepted our situation. The truth was, Lockwood Industries already had its heirs. Twins. I realized then that Stephen’s frequent “business trips” overseas weren’t for business at all. He was with Jessica and their children. Swallowing the suffocating lump in my throat, I asked him, “Stephen, do you even know the difference between responsibility and love? Don’t you see how pathetic this makes me look? Like a complete fool?” A flicker of guilt crossed his face as he saw the raw pain in my eyes. “I’m sorry, Julia. I truly am. I just… I couldn’t bear the thought of you going through another painful surgery. I just wanted to know what it felt like to be a father.” “Look,” he pleaded, “they won’t interfere with our lives. I’ve fulfilled my duty to Jessica, and if you’re willing, the children will respect you as their mother.” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. “So, my husband cheats on me, has a secret family, and I’m supposed to be grateful that he’s given me children to look after in my old age? So I don’t die a lonely old woman?” His face flushed with embarrassment, his voice rising. “Why do you have to put it like that, Julia? It wasn’t cheating!” “Jessica and I… it only happened once. And it was just so that…” He trailed off, perhaps too ashamed to finish the sentence. He dismissed everyone from the room, leaving us alone. “Julia, I know you’re angry. But try to see it from my perspective. I’m forty-two years old. I just didn’t want to have any regrets.” “If you really love me,” he said, his voice softening, “you’ll accept the children. Jessica has done a wonderful job raising them. You won’t have to lift a finger. Isn’t that a good thing?” I stared at him, a long silence stretching between us. Finally, I spoke, my voice a raw whisper. “And if I don’t accept?” “Julia, I know this is a shock. It’s okay… I’ll give you time.” He paused, his next words a final, devastating blow. “But I won’t stop seeing them. They’re my children.” “Next week is my father’s seventieth birthday. Jessica is bringing them. Once you meet them, I know you’ll love them.” With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him. I sat in the silence, my hand trembling as I opened my phone. The file from the private investigator was still there—tens of thousands of photos and videos, a meticulous chronicle of Stephen’s secret life. Him accompanying Jessica to her prenatal checkups, the birth of the twins, every milestone of their lives. And, of course, a copy of the stock transfer agreement. Twenty years of marriage. And for half of it, his extended “business trips” were a lie. He was playing house with his other family. And I, the fool, had never once suspected a thing. A portrait of a happy family—Stephen, Jessica, Hank, and Lily—burned itself into my memory, the sight of his blissful smile a knife in my heart. I had given up everything for him, for us. I became the woman behind the man, stood by him through hell and high water, only to discover I was merely a placeholder. My heart a cold, dead weight in my chest, I closed my phone and made a call. “I’ll take the job. The one developing the new market in the Northwest.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “And find me the best divorce lawyer you know.” At my father-in-law’s birthday party, Jessica arrived looking radiant. Dressed in a bespoke gown, her face flawlessly maintained, she looked vibrant and young. She said something that made my in-laws roar with laughter. The twins, a boy and a girl, were adorable in matching crimson outfits, looking festive and bright. My mother-in-law cooed over them, her eyes shining with a love she had never shown me. She had a servant follow them with a tray of exquisite pastries from a five-star hotel, terrified they might get hungry or thirsty. When she saw me, she offered a curt nod and tossed the gift I brought onto the growing pile without a second glance. She’d always looked down on me, believing I was beneath her son. A barren hen. Jessica, meanwhile, presented her with a jade bracelet. My mother-in-law’s face lit up. She slid it onto her wrist immediately, beaming. “Oh, Jessica, you’re so thoughtful! I’ve always loved jade; they say it nurtures the soul.” She shot a pointed look in my direction. “Unlike some people, who bring nothing but bad luck with their long faces.” The moment Stephen saw the children, his hand slipped from my arm as he rushed towards them. “Hank! Lily! Did you miss Daddy?” he crooned, crouching down to pull them into a tight embrace. Jessica watched them with a serene smile, then walked over and, as if she were his wife, casually straightened his collar and kissed him on the cheek. “Was the flight tiring?” he asked her softly, brushing a stray hair from his temple. “Were the little ones any trouble?” As if suddenly remembering I existed, he guided the little boy over to me. “Julia, this is Hank. He’s the older brother.” The boy’s face was a mirror of Jessica’s, with only Stephen’s thin lips and almond-shaped eyes to mark him as his son. He glanced at me with disdain. “You’re ugly. Not pretty like my mommy.” Then, he turned to Stephen, his voice a spoiled whine. “Daddy, you said you had a big present for my tenth birthday. What is it?” Stephen’s smile was strained. “I do, but that’s no way to speak to someone. This is Aunt Julia. Say hello.” The boy looked at me with smug defiance. “I know who you are. You’re the horrible woman who stole our daddy. We don’t like you. Go away.” Stephen froze, about to scold him, but Jessica intervened smoothly. “Oh, Stephen, don’t be harsh. He’s just a child. He misses you terribly; of course, he’s going to act out.” Guilt washed over Stephen’s face. He knelt to soothe the boy. “It’s okay, Hank. Daddy will be around a lot more from now on.” He then stood and clapped his hands. Several waiters appeared, each carrying a gift on a velvet tray. “Jessica,” he announced, “this is for you and the children. A new house. There’s no need for you to go back.” He unveiled the second gift: the keys and title to a brand-new Rolls-Royce Cullinan. “To make getting around easier.” The third was an exclusive, unlimited black card for a private couturier. From watches to jewelry to fine dining, I never knew Stephen could be so meticulous, so thoughtful. The birthday party had become his stage. Beaming at his happy new family, Stephen turned and nodded to his lawyer, who stepped forward with a microphone. “On behalf of Mr. Stephen Lockwood, I would like to make an announcement. Forty percent of the shares of Lockwood Industries will be gifted to Mr. Hank Lockwood and Miss Lily Lockwood, respectively. An additional ten percent will be gifted to Ms. Jessica Hale. This agreement has been notarized and is effective immediately.” A wave of shocked murmurs swept through the crowd. Fifty percent of Lockwood Industries. It was a fortune measured in billions. I could only watch with a bitter, silent laugh as guests swarmed Jessica, offering their congratulations. How utterly absurd. I had bled for that company for two decades, and he had never once offered me a single share. Yet he had already secured Jessica’s future, ensuring she would never have to worry. The difference between being valued and being disposable was crystal clear. Stephen finally seemed to notice me standing alone, a cold statue amidst the celebration. “Julia, don’t overthink this. The shares are for the kids’ future.” “You’re my wife,” he added, as if it were a consolation. “When they’re older, they’ll take care of you, just like they’ll take care of me. What do you need shares for, anyway?” Before I could respond, Jessica glided to his side and took his arm. “Stephen, darling, there are some elders here I haven’t met. Could you introduce me?” As she led him away into the crowd, she glanced back at me, her eyes filled with triumphant mockery. His parents called for a family photo. I quietly slipped away. When Stephen finally found me, I was sitting on the floor in a quiet corner, drunk, the world a blurry mess of tears. He knelt beside me, his expression full of apology, the scent of another woman’s perfume clinging to him. He brought me water, gently wiped my face, and helped me drink. For a fleeting moment, it was like we were twenty years younger, back when our love was the only thing that mattered. Back when the company had nothing, and we were desperate for a loan. I’d secured a million-dollar loan by drinking with a bank manager, ten thousand dollars for every shot I took. I drank until I threw up blood, and Stephen held me all night, wiping my face, his own tears mingling with mine. He had begged me to give up then, his voice breaking. “We’re going to lose everything, Julia. We’ll be destroyed.” I had clung to him, kissing his tears away. “I will get your company back for you, Stephen. I swear it. I’ll make the people who hurt you kneel at your feet.” He held me, kissing my hair, his voice choked with guilt and tears. “I’ll never leave you, Julia. Never.” “I just didn’t want you to go through the surgery,” he whispered now, his tears falling onto my face. “But I hurt you anyway.” Our tears mixed again, but this time, there was no sweetness, only the bitter taste of betrayal. “Stephen,” I begged, my voice cracking, “send them away. Tell them to go back and never return. Please.” “You want a child? I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow. We can have our own. Please, just come back to me. I’ll do anything…” His body went rigid. The spell was broken. I was sober. “Stephen, why?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “When you finally decided you wanted children… why didn’t you come to me?” The marble coffee table spiderwebbed with cracks under my fist. Blood dripped from my knuckles onto the polished floor, each drop a punctuation mark to our ruined marriage. The next day, Stephen brought Hank and Lily to our home. “Hank, Lily, this is Aunt Julia. Say hello.” He pushed them gently towards me. “Get to know each other. I know you’ll love them.” He then knelt down, his voice filled with the same doting affection he showed Jessica. “You two be good for Aunt Julia today, okay? Daddy has to go to the office for a bit.” Hank, a clever little actor, replied loudly, “Okay, Daddy! We’ll be good. Mommy already told us what to do.” Stephen smiled, satisfied. As he reached the door, he turned and gave us a cheerful wave. The moment he was gone, Hank leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Daddy’s gone to see Mommy. Mommy says you’re a pathetic loser. You can’t even have your own babies, so you’re trying to steal us.” “This is our daddy’s house. We don’t like you,” he sneered. “Why are you still here?” My throat tightened, a chilling cold spreading through my veins. I stared blankly at the front door. How could he lie to me so casually? Was he trying to rip my heart out? I sank onto the sofa, watching the two children tear through the house like a storm. When I reached for my phone to call Stephen, Hank snatched it and smashed it on the floor, his small face contorted with a vicious snarl. “No! You can’t call him! He’s on a date with Mommy!” “You’re not going to ruin it! You’re useless! Daddy only keeps you around because he pities you!” He stuck out his tongue, making a grotesque face at me. My breath hitched. Even the children knew. I was useless, a charity case kept by my husband. No wonder no one condemned him for his affair. Suddenly, Hank grabbed a piece of the shattered phone, and his hand started bleeding. Lily immediately dialed a number. Stephen and Jessica arrived with astonishing speed. Jessica rushed to Hank, cradling his hand, her voice frantic with worry. Hank sobbed dramatically. “It was her! She got mad and threw the phone! I tried to pick it up for her, and she… she called me a bastard and told me to get out!” Lily clung to Jessica’s leg, her face a mask of terror. “Mommy, I’m scared! I want to go home!” Jessica turned to me, her eyes red-rimmed. “Julia, I know this is all my fault. I never should have fallen for Stephen. We’ve stayed away for all these years, trying not to disturb you. But Hank is just a child! If you’re angry, take it out on me. Hit me, yell at me, I’ll take it.” A profound sense of helplessness washed over me. I opened my mouth to explain, but it was too late. Stephen’s palm cracked against my cheek. His face was a mask of cold fury, an expression I had never seen before. “I know you’re upset,” he hissed, his voice like ice, “but I never imagined you would take it out on a child.” He stared down at me, his words a thousand tiny daggers piercing my heart. “This is a Lockwood house, Julia. Hank is a Lockwood. Who the hell are you to call him a bastard and tell him to get out?” I stood there, speechless, as he tenderly scooped up both children and walked out the door without a backward glance. The villa was suddenly vast and silent. A bitter, acidic taste filled my mouth. After a long time, I took the divorce agreement out of my drawer and placed it on the coffee table. As I was leaving with my packed suitcase, I paused. I pulled up the security footage from the living room, sent the video file to Stephen, and then blocked his number. “Alex,” I said into my phone. “I’m ready. Come and get me.”

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Everyone knew Landon Hayes had boundaries. Sharp ones. Don’t get too close. Don’t touch his things. Even I, his girlfriend, was no exception. For years, I had navigated our relationship by carefully obeying his rules. Until Mimi arrived and shattered them all. I was following my long-established routine, leaving his packed lunch just outside his office door, when I saw her. Mimi, his new protégé, was pressed right up against him, playfully snatching at his phone. I clutched my hands, my wrist still swollen and throbbing from where he had gripped it too hard yesterday, just for accidentally brushing against that same phone. Silently, I spoke to the void. System, I want to go home. 1 I was in the middle of packing when Landon burst in, his face a mask of fury. “Where did you hide Mimi?” I froze. “What are you talking about?” “She’s missing!” he roared. “The security footage shows you two meeting yesterday afternoon. You slapped her, and then she vanished!” I looked down, continuing to fold my clothes into a suitcase. In all the years I’d known him, I had never seen him so unhinged. Seeing my silence, he lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. A sharp, searing pain shot through the swollen flesh, and I gasped. A flicker of something—pity? regret?—crossed his eyes, but he didn’t let go. His grip tightened. “Where is she? What did you say to her?” “Why don’t you ask what she said to me?” I shot back, my voice trembling. Landon barely contained his impatience. “What did she say?” “She said she had you wrapped around her little finger…” His hand cracked across my face. “Stella, this is a matter of life and death!” he snarled. “How dare you joke at a time like this!” I wiped a smear of blood from the corner of my mouth and laughed, a hollow, broken sound. Mimi was right. He would never believe me. “I’m not joking, Landon. And I’m leaving.” I was supposed to have late-stage cancer. The System told me that marrying Landon would cure me. After the wedding, I could choose to return to my own world or stay here. But somewhere along the way, something went terribly wrong. The tables turned. I fell for him. I loved watching the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked. I loved that he always remembered our anniversaries, planning little surprises for me. As long as I followed his rules, we were, for all intents and purposes, a happy couple. Then Mimi showed up, and I learned the truth. The person he truly loved didn’t have to follow any rules at all. Landon stared at me, a deep frown creasing his forehead. “Are you really pulling this again, Stella? Trying to get my attention?” “You were jealous, so you made Mimi disappear?” He let out a sigh that was meant to sound weary but was laced with contempt. “Stella, I already agreed to marry you. Why are you so threatened by a young girl?” “She’s young, and she’s brilliant,” he continued. “I’m mentoring her because she has talent. That’s all.” “Is this mentoring?” I asked, and before he could react, I closed the distance between us, my nose almost touching his chest. He recoiled instantly, a look of reflexive disgust on his face. A bitter smile touched my lips. Seven years. The only time we were ever close was when he initiated it. I remembered when my mother died, how I’d reached for him, desperate for comfort, only for him to push me away. “Stella, you know I have issues with personal space.” Right. A man with issues about personal space who lets his new protégé cover his eyes from behind to play “guess who?” Who lets her press against him, again and again, trying to snatch his phone. I’d even seen him, when she pouted in frustration, deliberately lower his hand so she could finally grab it. And then she would tap at the screen, trying password after password. “Professor,” she’d whine, “what’s your passcode?” I couldn’t watch it anymore. 2 He told me to stop making a scene. If Mimi wasn’t found, he wouldn’t marry me. “Okay,” I said. It didn’t matter anymore. Because Mimi had already told me her secret. She had a System, too. And if Landon married me, her System would erase her. My heart had turned to ice. I knew who Landon would choose, and it wouldn’t be me. The wedding was never going to happen. The System informed me that the process to send me home had already begun. As compensation for my efforts, it would petition the Main System for a bonus. I was about to thank it when Landon’s fingers clamped around my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Stella, I’m giving you three days. If you don’t tell me where Mimi is, I’m done playing nice.” Threatening his girlfriend of seven years for a girl he barely knew. My answer was the same. “I don’t know where she is.” He dragged me to a storage room in the basement and threw me inside. The room was filled with terrifying, life-sized mannequins. I screamed, my body shaking uncontrollably. He knew. He knew my deepest fears were ghosts and dolls. As I struggled to my feet, he kicked me hard in the chest, sending me sprawling. He produced a rope and tied my ankles together. “Three days, Stella,” he said, his voice cold as stone. “Tell me sooner, and I’ll let you out sooner.” My face was ashen. “Landon, she staged her own disappearance.” “Staged it?” he scoffed. “Do you think everyone is as manipulative as you are? Mimi’s time is valuable. And besides, she has no reason to be jealous of you.” I froze. He was right. She didn’t need to pull stunts to get his attention. She already had all of it. Landon tossed a crumpled note at my feet. It was in Mimi’s handwriting. “See for yourself. I want to know exactly what you said to her to make her this terrified.” I picked it up. Professor Hayes, I’m so sorry. I overstepped and made your fiancée angry. What she said to me… it was too much to bear. Please don’t force her to tell you where I am. Don’t worry about me. The paper was stained with what looked like tear drops. I couldn’t tell if they were Mimi’s or Landon’s. “And this note makes you think I’m responsible?” “Please,” he sneered. “You’re the one who faked a medical emergency, crying that you were dying, just to get me to come home. Is there anything you won’t do for attention, Stella?” I stared at him, stunned. The time I was hospitalized… he thought I was faking it. “Thankfully, Mimi saw right through you,” he continued. “If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve missed that critical conference.” 3 The heavy door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness. As my eyes adjusted, they met the dead, staring eyes of a dozen mannequins. I squeezed my own eyes shut, scrambling into a corner and curling into a ball. Just sleep, I told myself. When you wake up, the System will have taken you home. But then, the mannequins started to move. Landon’s voice drifted from outside the door. “These were originally for a haunted house attraction. Congratulations, Stella. You’re the first to test them out.” They shuffled towards me, the sound of their gears grinding a horrifying mechanical symphony. “No! Landon, please! Let me out!” I screamed. The grinding stopped. “Are you finally ready to tell me where Mimi is?” he asked. I shook my head, sobbing. “I don’t know where she is, but—” “Hah. Unbelievable.” He’d only heard the first part. He flipped a switch, and the deafening noise of the machinery drowned out the rest of my words. I passed out from fear countless times. Each time, Landon would enter, hook me up to an IV drip, and splash cold water on my face to wake me, before sealing me in the dark once more. Eventually, my throat was too raw to make a sound. I was drenched in sweat, my mind a numb, vacant haze. Only then did he shut them off. “Three days are up,” he said, opening the door. “Are you ready to talk?” Three days. It had really been three days. I managed a ghastly smile. “Landon… can you hold me?” “If I hold you, will you tell me where she is?” I nodded. He rushed forward and pulled my limp, sweat-soaked body into his arms. I felt the familiar warmth and tried to press closer, greedy for one last moment. But he pushed me away, pulling out a sanitizing wipe and scrubbing his hands with a look of disgust. “Alright. Start talking.” I laughed. “Landon, today was supposed to be our wedding day. Why don’t we get married? Maybe then Mimi will come back.” He froze, then his face contorted with rage. “How dare you mock me, Stella!” he roared. “I can’t believe how inhuman you are. A person’s life is at stake, and all you can think about is getting married?” “I’ve already called and postponed the ceremony.” “And let me tell you,” he spat, “until Mimi is found, it will stay postponed. Forever.” I was certain my plan would work. One hundred percent certain. But he didn’t believe me. He called for his lab assistant. “Take her to the Memory Extraction Device,” he commanded coldly. “I’m going to see for myself how this vicious bitch drove Mimi away.” The assistant blanched. “Professor Hayes, please reconsider! That device is still in the experimental phase. It could cause irreversible damage, or even kill her! We’ve never tested it on a human subject—” Landon cut him off with a chilling smile. “No better time to start. She can be our first guinea pig.” 4 I was too weak to resist. He strapped me into the chair with ease. He picked up a metal helmet, bristling with wires and needles. Just before placing it on my head, he gave me one last chance. “Stella, just tell me the truth. Stop lying and tell me where Mimi is.” “Otherwise,” he continued, his voice devoid of emotion, “the probe needles and chemical solution inside this helmet will pierce your brain, extracting your memories by force. It will strip you of all dignity. The pain will be unbearable.” A faint, tragic smile touched my lips. “Landon, I’ve already told you everything I know. You’re the one who refuses to believe me.” “Stubborn to the end.” He forced my thumb onto the inkpad and pressed it onto a waiver. If anything happened to me, he wouldn’t be held responsible. He was so afraid of missing a single clue that could lead him to Mimi that he called in the entire lab staff. They were to watch the large screen where my memories would be projected for all to see. A kind-faced graduate student spoke up. “Professor… maybe we should just call the police. This project really isn’t ready…” Landon’s smile was cruel. “Can the police pry open her skull and see what she said to Mimi that day? Begin.” The helmet was locked into place. Thousands of tiny needles sank into my scalp. I screamed, but my voice was a shredded, inhuman croak, like the rasp of a demon clawing its way out of hell. It sent a shudder through the room. The screen flickered to life. An image appeared. It was Landon, at twenty-two. The day he agreed to be my boyfriend. Before I could even celebrate, he laid down the law. “Even though you’re my girlfriend, I expect you to respect my boundaries.” I remember being taken aback, but I nodded. The scene shifted. My own suppressed sobs filled the room. “Landon, my mom’s gone. I don’t have a mother anymore.” He hung up and rushed to my side. I reached for him, needing to be held, but he hesitated, taking a step back. Seeing the state I was in, he finally relented and pulled me into a stiff embrace. In the days after her funeral, I was plagued by nightmares of demons dragging me to hell. I ran to his room, begging to sleep with him. He sighed and pulled back the covers. He placed a pillow between us like a barrier, but he let me hold his hand. In that moment, I believed I was different. Special. He had broken his own rules for me. As he slept, I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Landon,” I whispered, “we’ll get married someday, right? And when we do… you won’t need all these boundaries with me anymore, will you?” In the lab, the real Landon scowled. “Why is it pulling up this useless garbage?” he snapped. “I want to see the day she drove Mimi away!” The assistant sighed. “Professor, a person’s mind isn’t a computer. We can’t just search for a specific date.” Landon strode over to me. “Stella, focus. Think about what happened a few days ago. If you don’t, this is going to get much, much worse for you.” I said nothing. The System had already told me the transfer was complete. I would be going home today. My silence enraged him. “Increase the intensity!” he ordered. “I want to see memories related to Mimi!” The needles dug deeper. A choked, guttural sound escaped my throat. The image on the screen changed. After a few flickers, Mimi’s face appeared. Landon’s eyes widened. “Mimi!” he breathed. On the screen, Mimi was smiling as she knocked on my door, a slice of cream cake in her hand. “Miss Stella? You must be the Professor’s girlfriend. I’m his new protégé.” “Oh, hello.” “Professor Hayes said he was too busy to see you today, but he wanted to wish you a happy birthday.” I took the cake, thanking her for coming all this way. “You really shouldn’t have. He could have just sent a courier.” She puffed out her chest proudly. “He said he didn’t trust a courier, so he sent me instead.” That was the first time we met. I liked her. We even exchanged numbers. I had no reason to be suspicious as I ate the cake. Outside the screen, Landon sighed wistfully. “She was such a good kid. She knew I’d forgotten your birthday, so she ordered a cake and brought it to you herself.” He turned to me, his voice dripping with accusation. “And this is the sweet, kind girl you decided to terrorize?” Despite the agony, I found the strength to smile at him, gesturing for him to keep watching. On screen, I lit a candle on the cake and made a wish. I hope… I hope Landon and I can get married this year. Because my time is running out. I took a bite of the cake. Then another. Suddenly, I was clutching my throat, gasping for air. A violent rash erupted on my arms and legs. I collapsed to the floor. My first instinct was to call him. “Landon,” I rasped into the phone, “I think I’m dying. Help me…” 5 Landon froze. From the other end of the line, Mimi’s voice chirped, “Professor, we’re about to board. Who are you talking to?” “It’s Stella. I think something’s wrong.” “That’s impossible. She was fine when I gave her the cake. Oh, I get it. She’s just trying to guilt you into spending her birthday with her. Don’t fall for it.” Mimi’s voice was full of certainty. And Landon believed her. “Stella, be good,” he soothed. “I’ll make it up to you when I get back. We’ll celebrate your birthday then.” The line went dead. My vision blurred, and the world faded to black. Watching this, Landon looked at me in disbelief. “Stella… you have an allergy?” Before I could answer, the female grad student spoke up, her eyes red. “Professor, it must have been the cake!” “How could it be… When Mimi offered to remember your birthday for me, I specifically told her you were allergic to mango…” Landon sank into a chair, muttering, still trying to deceive himself. “She must have forgotten. Yes, that’s it. She just forgot.” “Keep going,” he ordered. Luckily, a delivery driver who had a package for me saw me through the window and called an ambulance. I was rushed to the hospital. When I woke up, the doctor’s face was grave. “Young lady, did you know you have a severe mango allergy? You nearly died.” Tears streamed down my face as I clutched my phone, scrolling through my old messages with Landon. But there were no new ones from him. Instead, a message from Mimi popped up. It was a photo of her holding Landon’s phone. [Guess what Professor Hayes’s passcode is, Stella?] My hand tightened around my phone. Landon never let anyone touch his phone. Ever. I bit my lip, refusing to reply. But she was persistent. She called me. I heard her sweet, girlish voice on the other end. “Professor… what’s your passcode? Can I… can I change it to my birthday?” Then, Landon’s voice, laced with a soft chuckle. “Go ahead, if you want.” “But… won’t Stella be angry if she finds out?” “She won’t. She never touches my phone. And besides, she wouldn’t pick a fight with a kid like you.” “Are you sure it’s okay for us to share a hotel room? It’s all my fault for not booking one in advance.” “Don’t overthink it. I’ll sleep on the couch. I have work to do, make yourself at home.” Even after he said he was busy, Mimi kept chattering in his ear, and he would give soft, distracted replies. If it had been me, I would never have dared to disturb him while he was working. By the time I hung up, my face was soaked with tears. Landon’s expression was grim. He hadn’t known Mimi was on the phone with me. He turned, meeting my weak, mocking gaze. Then, inexplicably, he got angry first. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Tell you?” My voice was a reedy whisper. The pain in my head was a dull, throbbing numbness. “Would you have believed me?” The assistant rushed to my side, checking my vitals. “Professor! Her body is at its limit! We have to stop!” Landon was silent for a moment. Then, “Continue.” I knew then. Once he set his mind to something, there was no turning back. Even if I died in this chair, he would just dissect my brain and keep searching. This time, the current that shot through my head made my eyes roll back. My body convulsed, drool spilling from the corner of my mouth. I must have looked hideous. Many in the room turned away, unable to watch. I could feel my life draining away. The memories on the screen began to flash by like a sped-up film. Most of them were of Landon’s back. Me, watching him from a distance. But slowly, a new, bright figure appeared at his side. I remembered someone joking once, “Professor, you and Mimi make a perfect couple.” The words had haunted me ever since.

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During a home invasion, I threw myself in front of Tyner to protect her, getting seriously injured in the process. Lying in a hospital bed, not a single person came to visit me. Not even Tyner’s mother, Nina. Just as my heart was turning to ice, on-screen comments started to appear in my vision. 【The female lead isn’t visiting him because today is the anniversary of Jonah’s death. She has to take Tyner to pay respects.】 【She actually cares about him deep down. She just can’t get over the fact that he used to be her brother-in-law.】 Jonah was my older brother. Before he died, he made me promise to take care of his wife, Nina, and their daughter, Tyner. I kept that promise for eight years. But now, looking at the mess of stitches and bruises covering my body, I was finally tired. 1. I lay in the hospital bed, every inch of me aching. My phone screen was still open to my last conversation with Nina. I had texted her: [It’s hard to manage on my own. Can you come to the hospital and help me?] Her reply came back instantly: [You have the nerve to ask for my help? I haven’t even dealt with you yet. Do you have any idea how terrified Tyner was yesterday? What kind of stepfather are you?] I wasn’t just Tyner’s uncle. I was her stepfather. I had been for eight years. As if on cue, another message from Nina came through. It was a voice note. I pressed play, and Tyner’s wailing filled the air. “Go away! I don’t want you anymore! It’s all your fault you didn’t protect me! My face got all scratched up!” “Grandpa was right about you! You never saw me as your real daughter! You wanted me to get hurt!” “You’re a monster! I never want to see you again!” It was hard to believe those words were coming from the child I had raised for the last eight years. My heart felt like a dead weight in my chest, and the phone slipped from my numb fingers. That’s when the live commentary appeared before my eyes. 【The female lead isn’t visiting him because today is the anniversary of Jonah’s death. She has to take Tyner to pay respects.】 【She actually cares about him deep down. She just can’t get over the fact that he used to be her brother-in-law.】 【Tyner’s just different from other kids because she lost her father. She has a temper, but she’s been through so much. My heart breaks for her.】 I’d seen comments like these countless times before. The first time was eight years ago. They told me I was the male lead of this world, and Nina was my female lead. That she loved me, and after many trials, we would live happily ever after. But eight years had passed, and I had never felt a single drop of that love. And suddenly, I was just so tired. 2. My phone rang. It was Nina. “When are you coming home?” she demanded. “There’s no one here to cook, and the laundry is piling up.” My hand clenched around the phone. It was the middle of summer, but a bitter chill washed over me. Yesterday, burglars had broken in. It was just me and Tyner at home. It would have been fine—they were just after money—but halfway through, Tyner made a run for it. She was trying to get back a watch, a keepsake from her father, Jonah. Her sudden move enraged one of the thieves. He raised his knife. I didn’t think. I just moved, shielding her with my own body. In the end, I took several deep cuts. Tyner got away with a scratch on her cheek. And even with me lying here, bleeding and broken, neither of them seemed to care. What had I gotten in return for eight years of my life? 【She’s just trying to show she cares! She’s too proud to say it directly, so she talks about housework.】 【Come on, Nina! Just tell him you’re worried about him! Stop being so difficult!】 The comments always said she loved me, that she was just afraid to show it because I had been her brother-in-law. For years, I clung to that hope, believing that with enough time, she would finally open up. But now, I was done waiting. This kind of love… I didn’t want it anymore. “Nina,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m done. I won’t be taking care of you and Tyner anymore.” The moment the words were out, a massive weight lifted from my shoulders. For eight years, I had been their live-in maid. I’d had enough. “Cole, do you have any idea what you’re saying?” she hissed. “You owe Jonah. He entrusted us to you. You have to take care of us. You don’t get to just quit.” 3. 【I can’t believe he’d say that. She loves you, you idiot! She has her reasons for not visiting!】 【It’s that helpless feeling of wanting to slap someone through the screen. He held on for eight years just to give up now?】 The comments stung my eyes. Who were they to judge me? To dictate my life? If it were them, could they have lasted this long? Eight years ago, Jonah was dying of cancer. On his deathbed, he grabbed my hand. “Cole,” he begged, “remember when you almost got hit by that car? I saved you.” “Please, help me this one time. After I’m gone, marry Nina. Help me take care of her and our baby girl.” He was right. If he hadn’t pushed me out of the way, I would have died that day. I owed him my life. And on top of that, I’d had a secret crush on Nina since we were in high school together. So I agreed. I gave up my dream of being a singer. I started taking care of them. I cooked, I cleaned, I did the laundry. I raised Tyner from the time she was an infant—changing her diapers, feeding her bottles, soothing her when she cried in the middle of the night. I thought eight years of devotion would mean something to them. I thought they would grow to love me. I was wrong. Snapping back to the present, I spoke into the phone. “Whatever I owed Jonah, I’ve paid it back over the last eight years.” “And there’s no rule that says because he saved my life, I have to sacrifice my own.” The line went silent. I hung up. The comments exploded with rage: 【What a piece of trash. Jonah saved his life, and this is how he repays him.】 【No wonder she doesn’t love you. Go on, keep acting like this. You’ll make sure she never loves you.】 I let out a bitter, silent laugh. I wanted to tell them I didn’t want their twisted version of love anyway. 4. In the days that followed, Nina and I didn’t speak. I took care of myself in the hospital. When I couldn’t manage something on my own, I’d ask one of the janitors for help. I’ve always been independent. I had to be. My parents always favored Jonah. He was charming and knew how to sweet-talk them. I was the quiet, introverted one who just did what needed to be done. There’s a saying: the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Well, I was the silent one. The more I did, the less they appreciated me, because they just came to expect it. The day I was discharged, I went home alone. The moment I walked through the door, Tyner threw a toy at me. It hit me square in the stomach, right on one of my healing wounds. “Get out! You’re not welcome here!” 【It’s normal for Tyner to act out like this. She lost her real dad, after all.】 【I just want to give her a hug. It’s so sad she has to go through this at such a young age.】 I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my gut and looked at Tyner, my heart sinking. I had raised this girl since she was a baby. We should have had a bond. But here she was, spitting venom at me. Just then, Nina came out of her room. Her eyes were like ice. “Decided to come back, did you?” “Tyner hasn’t done her homework all week because you weren’t here. She’s barely eaten.” “I bought some ribs. Go cook them for her so she can get her strength back.” 【OMG, I love a female lead who says the opposite of what she means! She obviously bought those ribs for him!】 【Hahaha, Nina and her stubborn personality!】 I wanted to laugh. It was all so ridiculous. This kind of love? I refused to accept it. 5. I walked past Nina, went into my room, and started packing. Halfway through, she stormed in, glaring at me. “What do you think you’re doing?” “This family just went through a traumatic robbery. Everyone is on edge, and you choose now to cause a scene.” The comments chimed in: 【Exactly! What is he doing? She just offered him an olive branch and he ignored it.】 【I hate this male lead. Can the author replace him?】 If only they could. I didn’t want this role anymore. It was exhausting. I zipped up my suitcase and started to wheel it out. Suddenly, my father was there, blocking the doorway. He leaned heavily on his cane, his face darkening as he saw my luggage. “Where are you going?” “It’s none of your business.” I tried to move past him, but he swung his cane, bringing it down hard across my back. The wound, not yet fully healed, split open. Blood soaked through my shirt. Nina rushed forward, then stopped short a few feet away. “This is what you get for making a fuss,” she said. “Now you’ve made Dad angry.” “Nina, what’s going on here?” my father demanded. “He suddenly announced he’s not taking care of us anymore,” she said. “He was packing his bags to leave.” My face was pale with pain. As I opened my mouth to speak, Tyner ran up and kicked me in the shin. “Grandpa, teach him a lesson! He didn’t protect me, and now he wants to abandon me!” “You worthless animal!” my father roared, striking me again with his cane. “Your brother was so good to you! He saved your life! Is it so much to ask that you take care of his family in return?” “You should be grateful! Nina is a successful, capable woman! You’re just a useless piece of trash!” I lay on the floor, the pain turning into a dull numbness. It was always like this. My entire life, he had torn me down, called me useless while praising Jonah as a saint. When Jonah died, he took all his grief and anger out on me, beating me with that cane for a week straight. I was bedridden for a month after that. 【Am I the only one who feels kind of bad for him?】 【Bad for him? This is his own damn fault. If he just did his duty and took care of them, this wouldn’t be happening.】 【He deserves it. I hope they beat him to death. It’d serve him right.】 I looked at the three cold faces staring down at me, at the hateful comments scrolling past my eyes. It only solidified my decision. I needed to get away from them. I reached into my bag, pulled out the divorce papers, and threw them at Nina’s feet. “Let’s get a divorce.”

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Five years after my suicide, Jovan Thorne got himself a new canary. Everyone said she was a lot like me, from her looks to her personality. I disagreed. I would never tie Jovan’s tie. I certainly wouldn’t celebrate his birthday. The only thing I ever did was find new and inventive ways to make his life hell. His misery was my happiness. 1 Everyone in Atheria City’s glittering, debauched social circle knew that Jovan Thorne despised me. It was because my mother, before she moved into the Thorne family mansion, was a masseuse at an exclusive spa. His mother, on the other hand, was the heiress to the Lancaster Group. He was born into a world of privilege and power, draped in silk and accolades. We were worlds apart. From the moment he first laid eyes on me, he wanted me gone, ground into the dirt. I couldn’t change the affairs of our parents, but I didn’t owe him a damn thing. So, I made it my mission to antagonize him at every turn. He was never good with words, always losing our verbal spars, and his precious gentleman’s code kept him from getting physical. All he could do was storm off, jaw clenched tight. While we were busy tearing each other apart, our parents slowly faded from the world, one after the other. And just like that, my last shield was gone. Jovan finally dropped the mask. Whenever I pissed him off, he’d lock me in the darkness of the old cellar. But a kid who grew up on the streets isn’t afraid of the dark. I’d scream insults at him through the heavy oak door, hurling every vile word I knew. One night, I must have truly broken him. He threw the door open, pinned me against the cold stone, and the sound of my white dress tearing ripped through the silence. I dragged myself up from the floor and slapped him across the face, the sound sharp and final. He seized my wrist, his eyes burning with a vicious fire. “You’re just like your mother,” he hissed. “A cheap whore.” I didn’t cry. My face was a blank canvas. I stood tall, looking down on him. “And you think you’re so noble, Jovan? You’re just a bastard. A filthy little secret.” I spat on the floor near his expensive shoes. Jovan wasn’t a true Thorne. He was the product of his mother’s affair. He had no idea how I knew, and the rage that flooded his face was terrifying. His eyes went bloodshot as his hands closed around my throat. “Say that again,” he growled, his voice dangerously low. “I’ll kill you.” Air became a luxury. My vision started to swim in black spots. But I wasn’t afraid. A part of me hoped he wouldn’t let go. The veins on my neck pulsed, a stark contrast to my pale skin. A smirk played on my lips, sharp and defiant. “Bas…tard…” The sounds of a struggle—thudding bodies, muffled groans—echoed from behind the door. The housekeeper and the staff were used to it. No one ever interfered. Only when the moon was high in the sky did Jovan finally shove me away and slam the door, leaving me in the suffocating silence. I licked my lips, the coppery tang of his blood a small victory. Once again, I pulled myself to my feet and walked barefoot back to my room. The housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, was waiting for me. She was in her fifties, with a kind face that was utterly wasted on her. Her loyalty belonged to Jovan. She handed me a pill and a glass of water. Without a second glance, I tossed it into my mouth and swallowed it dry. A flicker of something crossed her eyes before she turned and walked away, the untouched water still in her hand. The next evening was the Thorne Corporation’s annual gala. Jovan and I were both required to attend. My body ached all over. I’d slept the entire day and still felt like I’d been run over. Jovan never knocked. He kicked my door open, leaning against the frame with his hands shoved in his pockets. “If you don’t want me to start making trouble for your little friends, you’ll be downstairs in thirty minutes.” I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “Get out.” He dodged it easily. “Twenty-nine minutes,” he said, his voice flat. 2 In the end, I got in the car with him. The Thorne Corporation was a titan in Atheria, with its fingers in tourism, education, real estate—you name it. Jovan was a brilliant, ruthless businessman who knew how to command loyalty. As the primary heir, he’d been groomed for power, stepping in as Vice President while his father was still alive and sliding seamlessly into the CEO position. Tonight’s event was to launch their new entertainment company. We entered the venue separately, a silent agreement. Jovan was on stage, playing the part of the perfect gentleman in his tailored black suit and gold-rimmed glasses. The crowd below, a sea of glamorous celebrities and fawning socialites, watched him with pure adoration. It made me sick. I rolled my eyes and slipped out the back. The gala was held at a sprawling estate, rumored to have a private menagerie of exotic animals. I wandered for a while but couldn’t find it. “Miss Vance? Are you lost?” I looked up. A man in a dark green suit was watching me with curious eyes. He was pale, almost ethereal in the moonlight. I raised an eyebrow, a slow, playful smile spreading across my face. “You know who I am?” “Jovan Thorne’s sister? I don’t think there’s a soul in Atheria who doesn’t.” “Are you married?” I asked, cutting straight to the point. He blinked, clearly flustered. “No.” I crossed my arms and sauntered over to him, my gaze direct and sincere. “Marry me. Become Mr. Thorne’s brother-in-law. So, what do you say?” His face flushed a brilliant crimson. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. This guy was actually trying to play innocent. Sure, Jovan hated my guts, but the line of men willing to marry into the Thorne family, even through me, was endless. After all, I was his sister, and a minor shareholder in the company. I reached out and brushed my fingers against his hot cheek. “We could be at the courthouse tomorrow morning. And I could move in with you.” “Aya!” Speak of the devil. Jovan’s voice cut through the air like a whip. His security guard materialized and politely escorted the man in green away. Jovan stared at me, his face a mask of disgust. “Are you that desperate? That was Donovan, the family disappointment. A spineless coward. You’d really stoop that low?” I didn’t bother to answer, turning to leave. He grabbed my arm, yanking me back so hard I stumbled. I ripped my arm from his grasp, glaring. Then, a wicked smile bloomed on my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my eyes locking with his. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Jovan?” He was furious. Again. His fingers clamped down on my jaw, the pressure immense. For a second, I thought the bone might crack. “Slut.” It was his favorite word for me. I was getting tired of it. That night, he locked me in the cellar again. In the pitch black, he couldn’t see the bleak emptiness in my eyes, or the way my spirit was slowly breaking. I left several deep bite marks on his shoulder. They must have hurt, because the next day, he could barely lift his arm. That made me happy. I grabbed my purse, ready for a day out. It’s a small world. I ran into Donovan, the “spineless coward,” at a high-end lounge. He had a young woman cornered in his booth, forcing drink after drink on her. She looked like a good kid, innocent, not one of us. I strolled over and sat down, beaming at him. “Honey, I thought we were getting our marriage license today. Why didn’t you show up?” The entire lounge went silent. Donovan dropped his glass, which shattered on the floor like a thousand tiny stars. The girl beside him stammered, “Miss Vance, you… you and him…?” I nodded graciously. “We’re engaged! You should all come to the wedding. You too, sweetie,” I said, winking at her. The girl fled. I later found out she was a 19-year-old student Donovan had lured from her university. When I heard, I made a call. He spent the next month in a hospital bed. When Jovan found out, he looked at me, his expression unreadable. “You even beat up your own fiancé?” “What’s it to you? Jealous? You want a beating too?” He seethed, calling me a whore again. I picked up my glass of water and threw it in his face. “My mother was married to your father, legally and properly. Do you understand me? Say it again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.” 3 The Thorne’s new entertainment company had a rising star. An actor in his early twenties. I couldn’t remember his name, but he was handsome. My friend mentioned he had a passing resemblance to me. I nearly choked on my coffee. “That’s great. Now that you’ve said that, you’ve probably just jinxed his entire career.” “Are you and Jovan still at each other’s throats?” “When have fire and water ever gotten along?” I shot back. She sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. That night, Mrs. Gable informed me that Jovan wouldn’t be home for dinner. I was so delighted I ate two huge bowls of rice before floating upstairs. In the dead of night, I felt a presence by my bed. Jovan. The stench of alcohol rolled off him in waves. I pulled the covers tighter around me and told him to get lost. A moment of silence passed. When I glanced over, he was actually gone. Strange. He’d actually listened for once. The next morning, Mrs. Gable told me Jovan was sick with a high fever. I was meticulously painting my nails. “He’s sick? Call a doctor. What’s the point of telling me? I’m not a miracle worker.” His life or death was no concern of mine. I went out to have fun, same as always. He came back from the hospital a week later. They say illness makes you look frail, but not him. He looked as healthy as ever, his eyes just as cold. He found me painting and sneered. “There isn’t an artistic bone in your body. Don’t pretend to be cultured. It’s a waste of time.” “You’re right,” I said without looking up. “I am wasting time. It’s a shame the bars aren’t open during the day.” “You go to bars often?” Now it was my turn to sneer. I put down my brush and turned to him. “Don’t you have people following me 24/7? How could you not know I go to bars? Your employees are slipping. You should fire them.” He was holding a coffee cup. With his free hand, he pulled out his phone and did just that. Satisfied, I went back to my painting. That night, I put on a scandalously short dress and went to the grimiest, most chaotic bar I could find—a place where drugs, gambling, and prostitution were all on the menu. I picked the most conspicuous table and sat down. It didn’t take long for a guy with bleached-blond hair to approach. His fashion sense was a train wreck, but I didn’t care. We drank, glass after glass. Soon, the world was spinning, and I was leaning into him. He was ecstatic, fumbling with a wad of crumpled bills to pay the tab as he wrapped an arm around me. He led me out the back, into a dark, narrow alley. My heels kept slipping on the slick pavement. I stumbled several times, and each time he roughly pulled me back up. “Hey, handsome,” I slurred. “Where are we going?” “To the after-party, of course.” I giggled stupidly. “After-party! Yes! I love after-parties!” He pushed me against a grimy brick wall. My vision blurred as I looked up at him. He started fumbling with his clothes, but the cheap zipper on his jacket was stuck. Frustrated, he just ripped it open. I let out a soft “Oh,” feigning sympathy. “Your jacket is broken.” “You’re more important than a jacket!” he grunted, lunging at me. I stared up at the single, flickering streetlamp overhead, my heart a placid lake. Suddenly, the weight on top of me vanished. I glanced to the side. What a shame. Jovan strode into the alley, his face a thundercloud. His men were already dragging the unconscious blond away. I remained on the ground, looking up at him. “Always the hero, aren’t you, Mr. Thorne? Ruining everyone’s fun.” My self-destructive performance sent him into a rage. He yanked me to my feet, and I fought back, kicking and scratching. “Let go of me! I said let go, you bastard!” My hair was a mess, and the strap of my dress had snapped, exposing my shoulder. Jovan ripped off his suit jacket and threw it over me, his eyes sharp as shards of glass. “You’re a Thorne, Aya. Stop acting like your mother!” CRACK! “Jovan, haven’t I told you? You don’t talk about my mother!” I’d put all my strength into that slap. His head snapped to the side. He ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, then, to my horror, he smiled. His hand came back, fast and hard. The force of his slap sent me staggering backward. I crashed into a row of overflowing trash cans before crumpling to the ground. What the hell did this bastard eat? The force of it left me stunned, unable to get up. 4 When I woke up, I was in a hospital. A nurse told me I’d been unconscious for three days. No wonder I was starving. Jovan walked in, dark circles under his eyes, looking worn out for the first time I could remember. The sight of him filled me with irritation. I turned my head away, refusing to look at him. I was the patient now; I wouldn’t win a fight. He stood by the bed, his gaze fixed on my back. “You did this on purpose.” Silence. “Aya, did you do this on purpose? Answer me!” Still silence. “If you don’t say something, I’ll have your mother’s ashes dug up and scattered to the wind.” I shot up in bed, my finger pointing straight at his nose, a torrent of curses erupting from my lips—soulless, inhuman, worse than an animal. He didn’t react, just repeated the question. “Was it on purpose?” What the hell was he talking about? “You’re pregnant,” he said, his voice flat. “Two months.” I wasn’t surprised at all. “Oh, you found out?” I said, my voice deceptively calm. “You must be thrilled. You’re going to be an uncle.” His expression was strained, his tone laced with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” I scoffed, then lay back down, pulling the covers up as if settling in for a long rest. Jovan sat on the sofa across the room, his voice as cold as ice. “I’ve fired the entire staff. A new team is coming in. From now on, you’ll stay here and rest. You are not to leave this house.” I sat up again, staring at him, fighting the urge to scream. “Are you insane? Who are you to make decisions for me? You really think you’re the uncle?” “You know exactly who I am to this child,” he said, his gaze deep and unwavering, but still filled with that familiar contempt. Jovan himself came to pick me up from the hospital. When he tried to open the car door for me, I shoved his hand away and got in on the other side. When we arrived at the mansion, it was just as he’d said. Not a single familiar face remained, not even Mrs. Gable. He’d also posted several bodyguards around the property. I cursed him endlessly. He was treating me like a prisoner. Time crawled by. The actress who looked like me officially announced she was dating Jovan. I watched her smiling face on the television and felt a pang of pity for her. That bastard didn’t deserve anyone. Soon after, Jovan had to relocate overseas for an extended period to deal with issues at a foreign branch. I practically danced with joy. One night, unable to sleep, I wrapped a coat around my shoulders and went into the garden to look at the stars. The ground was slick with dew. My foot slipped, and just as I braced myself to fall onto the soft grass, a gust of wind rushed past my ear. A strong arm caught me, holding me steady. In the darkness, his eyes shone brightly. He looked young, almost boyish. I pulled my coat tighter and studied him. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you during the day.” “Miss Vance. My name is Liam. I’m on the night shift.” I was genuinely surprised. The bodyguards had shifts? Did the night shift pay better? Liam shook his head, his expression earnest. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure.” He was much more interesting than the daytime guards, who walked around with permanent scowls as if I owed them money. At least Liam could hold a conversation. From then on, I often sought him out to talk. One evening, while we were chatting, Jovan’s call came through. He’d threatened me with my mother again, forcing me to answer. I pressed the button, fighting back a wave of nausea. Jovan’s voice was tight with suppressed rage. “I’ve figured it out. You weren’t taking the pills, were you?” I instinctively didn’t want Liam to hear this, so I stood up and walked a little further away. “What pills? I’m perfectly healthy.” “Aya! You know what I’m talking about.” I looked up at the moon. It was so bright, just like the first night I’d ever spent in this mansion. A small smile touched my lips. “You’re only figuring this out now, Jovan? Isn’t it a little late?” He must have been livid. He was the one who pulled the strings, not the other way around. “Let’s make a deal,” I proposed. “You let me go, and I’ll disappear from your life forever. You can go back to being Atheria’s golden boy.” “And if I say no?” “Then I’m sure there are plenty of media outlets that would be very interested in Mr. Thorne’s private life.” “You really are a bitch, Aya.” 5 A bitch? I just wanted to be free. Was my mother a whore? She was just trying to survive. I was only seven when my mother was still a masseuse. Her life wasn’t pristine, but she earned her living with her own two hands. Jovan’s father saw her, claimed she looked just like his first love, and dragged her into the Thorne mansion, whether she wanted it or not. When my own father came looking for me, he died in a car crash on his way home. Suddenly, I was an orphan, lost on the streets without a mother or a father. It was only then that my mother agreed to all of Jovan’s father’s demands, on one condition: that they bring me to the mansion. He was so happy he sent his men to find me that very day. I lay back in the garden’s rocking chair, searching for my parents among the stars. The night air was cold. So cold it brought tears to my eyes. Liam stood nearby, silent. He handed me a handkerchief. I looked at it and let out a small laugh. Who even used handkerchiefs anymore? I took it and wiped my tears away. Then I remembered—my mother used to love them. She said they were convenient and clean. I looked up at Liam. He was still standing at attention, not looking at me, his face still holding that boyish innocence. A month after Jovan left, the new housekeeper took me to the hospital for a check-up. I insisted Liam come with us. He hesitated, clearly worried about breaking protocol. I rolled my eyes at him. “Dude, I’m the one you’re guarding. Do you listen to me or a schedule?” He thought for a moment, then got in the car. Honestly, I’d never met someone so straight-laced. The check-up went fine. While we were there, a friend called and invited me out. I lied and said I was out of the country. She yelled at me for not inviting her along. I didn’t know how to explain, so I just hung up. It had been so long since I’d been out. The world outside seemed to have gotten even more vibrant. A new coffee shop had opened next to the hospital. Ignoring the housekeeper’s protests, I decided I needed a cup. As fate would have it, Jovan’s actress girlfriend was there. She recognized me immediately and greeted me with a wide, bright smile. “Miss Vance! What a surprise to see you here.” I was thin, and my clothes were loose, so my pregnancy wasn’t obvious. I gave her a curt nod, wanting nothing to do with her. She seemed oblivious to my coldness and followed me. Liam stepped between us, and she looked at me with a confused, almost pitiful expression. “Miss Vance, could I just have a word with you?” With a sigh, I let her sit down. She was a chatterbox. Her endless stream of words made my head spin. I escaped to the restroom for a moment of peace. When I returned, she looked embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Miss Vance. I talk way too much, don’t I?” I shook my head politely. Her face was a little pale, and she seemed nervous. “I was worried you’d find me annoying.” I drained my coffee in one gulp and stood up to leave. The moment I got back in the car, a dull ache started in my lower abdomen. At first, it was just a throb, but then it intensified, feeling like a heavy weight was pressing down, pulling my entire body toward the ground. The pain was excruciating. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. “Liam…” I whispered. No response. Of course. He was a bodyguard. He wouldn’t be in the main cabin with me. A soundproof partition separated me from the driver. I curled into a ball on the leather seat, then tumbled onto the floor. My hands clutched my stomach, trembling so violently I couldn’t form a single word. Then I felt something warm and sticky seeping out from under me. I reached down. Blood. So much blood. I never knew a person could bleed this much. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep bleeding before… before I died. Maybe it was for the best. I’d been tired of living for a long time anyway.

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