At the peak of his success, Adrian Fidler asked me for a divorce. But that was right when Seraphina Rowe, the love of his life, conspired with his biggest rival to gut his company and then vanished without a trace. I didn’t leave. I stayed by his side for five long years. Not for love. I was bound to a “career supporter” script. My only way back to my own world was to help Adrian rebuild his empire. The day his new company went public, Adrian stood on the balcony of the stock exchange and rang the opening bell, with Seraphina’s hand in his. By the time he rushed home, I was already gone. My mission was complete. I had vanished from his life as completely as she once had. And I’d taken all his money with me. 1 As Adrian’s company soared, so did my status among the city’s elite wives. They all envied me, certain I’d made the right bet. Five years ago, we were the disaster couple of our social circle, with him doing everything in his power to force a divorce. But when his company collapsed and he was left broken and bankrupt, I was the one who stayed, playing the part of the devoted wife who helped him rise from the ashes. Everyone said my perseverance had finally paid off. But I knew something was wrong. Adrian was in love again. We knew each other too well. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, I saw the signs. He used to come home on time every night. Lately, he’d sit in his car in the driveway, chain-smoking, a deep weariness etched on his face. When he finally came inside, he was silent. I used to pick out all his clothes—a strict palette of black, white, and gray. Suddenly, he had his assistant buying them. He’d started wearing teal. It was her favorite color. Seraphina’s. And on her birthday, the lights in his office building stayed on all night. I had a feeling, a cold certainty growing in my gut. It all clicked into place today, at a university alumni event, when I saw her standing right in front of me. Seraphina Rowe, smiling, holding out her hand as if she’d never betrayed him at all. Adrian’s gaze was glacial. He didn’t take her hand. But I felt his grip on my wrist tighten, his entire arm trembling slightly. Only I could feel the tremor of the earthquake she caused in him. I kept my smile perfectly in place and patted the back of his hand. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice sweet but clear. “It’s been five years since you stole the Fidler family’s trade secrets and helped their rivals drive his company into the ground.” The words were an accusation for her, and a reminder for him. No matter what he did in private, in public, we had to maintain appearances. As if waking from a dream, Adrian wrapped an arm around my waist and steered me away from her. That night, a video of Seraphina’s interview went viral. The reporter asked why, after years of retirement, she had suddenly returned. Seraphina looked into the camera, a picture of tragic beauty, tears streaming down her face. “I was young and foolish,” she whispered. “I hurt the man who loved me. Now, all I want is to win him back.” Her gaze was intense, personal. “Adrian, can you ever forgive me?” A beautiful, disgraced movie star and a brilliant tech mogul. The story exploded. Adrian was furious. He immediately called his PR team, demanding they issue a statement clarifying that he had no connection to Seraphina. I’d never seen him so emotional, his face flushed with a rage that was almost theatrical. The PR head asked if they should sue Seraphina for defamation. I watched Adrian, knowing what he would say. Sure enough, his eyes flickered. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head. “I just don’t want to be associated with her,” he explained to me later. I smiled and nodded, mentally finishing his sentence: He was afraid a lawsuit would tarnish her precious career. What a pair we were. Two schemers, each with our own secrets, politely refusing to expose the other. When we first married, I had loved him to the point of madness. Now, I watched his life like it was a television drama. No one expected Seraphina to be so insane. On the Bay Bridge, she swerved her car directly into our path. I was in the passenger seat. If Adrian turned the wheel, we would be fine, but Seraphina’s car would smash through the guardrail and plunge into the sea. There would be no survivors. If he didn’t, we’d all be hurt. It was like he was in a trance. His eyes locked with hers across the rapidly closing distance. A twisted romance novel playing out in real-time. It cast me as the villain. Because I was the one screaming, slapping his arm, trying to wrench the steering wheel from his hands. The world exploded in a screech of metal and shattering glass. Dazed, Adrian stumbled out of our wrecked car and staggered towards hers, his hands shaking as he checked on her. Seraphina, a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth, leaned against his chest. She looked past him, met my eyes, and smirked. I win again, Thea, she mouthed. After what felt like an eternity, I managed to pull myself from the wreckage, a heavy, pulling pain low in my belly. “Adrian… help me…” I called out weakly. He snapped back to reality and rushed over, scooping me into his arms. My consciousness began to fade. In the wail of the ambulance siren, I vaguely heard him calling me his wife, over and over, begging me not to die. I felt the warmth of his tears on my forehead. So cliché, I thought, and scoffed. When I woke up, I was greeted with two pieces of news. First, I was two months pregnant. Second, the System informed me that Adrian’s comeback was 98% complete. I would be returning to my own world very soon. 2 Adrian came to the hospital every day. And every day, he’d get a phone call and rush out. I knew he was going to see Seraphina. But he was a master of deception. No matter how late it was, he always came back to my room, curling up on the small cot beside my bed, his arm draped over me as we slept. Once, as he was about to leave, he paused, his hand gently resting on my stomach. “Daddy will be right back,” he whispered. Suddenly, the sight of him was repulsive. I was done being polite. “Why don’t you take the fruit basket in my room to Miss Rowe?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Since you clearly can’t bear to be away from her.” The expression on his face shattered. He just stared at me, speechless. “Let’s not fight,” he finally managed. “The baby can hear us.” I slapped him. The sound was sharp in the quiet room. “Does our baby know his father almost got him killed for his old flame?” Adrian’s fists clenched at his sides. He looked at me, his eyes pleading. Just then, his phone rang. It was Seraphina. “Adrian,” she cooed, her voice a seductive purr. “My stitches tore open again. It hurts so much…” He could never resist her. He stood up and left without another word. I turned my face away, refusing to watch him go. A moment later, a text came in from Mr. Sterling, one of the company’s biggest clients. He wanted to discuss a new contract. Sterling was generous, but he had one flaw: he loved to seal deals over copious amounts of alcohol. The System warned me: if I went, I would get dangerously drunk. And I was pregnant. I couldn’t drink. My face was a cold mask. I knew the risks. Adrian had lectured me endlessly about them. But I didn’t care. “I’m leaving this world soon anyway,” I told the System. “This baby was never meant to be born.” It wasn’t a product of love; it was a byproduct of lust. It didn’t need my protection. Besides, landing Sterling’s contract would be a massive boost for the company. It would push Adrian’s career progress to 99%. I went to the dinner. I drank until everyone was satisfied, and I walked away with a signed contract. I threw up three times on the way home, my stomach burning like it was on fire. When I opened the front door, I heard Adrian’s voice, happier than I’d heard it in a long time. “I bought so many little outfits for the baby today, and a stroller! We need to start setting up the nursery…” Then he smelled the alcohol on me. His voice died in his throat. The pressure in the room dropped ten degrees. His face was grim as he carefully helped me to a chair. He took off my makeup, wiped my face with a warm cloth, forced a glass of hangover soup down my throat, and called the family doctor. “You know you can’t drink while you’re pregnant!” he finally roared, his hands gripping my jaw, forcing me to look at him. His eyes burned with fury, but underneath, they shimmered with a thin layer of tears. I patted his cheek and laughed. “I was out there securing your kingdom for you and Seraphina,” I slurred. “Why pretend to be so concerned? Deep down, you’re probably hoping I drink myself to death so you can finally give your precious old flame her rightful place, right?” He lunged forward and kissed me, trying to silence my vicious words. I shoved him away with all my strength. “Don’t touch me,” I spat. “You’re filthy. While I was entertaining clients for you, where were you?” His face went white. I pulled out my phone and opened a message Seraphina had sent me earlier that day. It was a photo of the two of them. She was in a hospital bed with an IV in her arm, and Adrian was asleep in the chair beside her. On his forehead was the clear imprint of a lipstick kiss. “It’s not what it looks like!” he said, his voice frantic. “I just… I hate her for what she did. I just wanted to see her brought low!” I closed my eyes and unleashed a torrent of insults, calling him pathetic, a fool, a dog returning to its own vomit—all the things I knew would cut him the deepest. After seven years, we knew each other’s weaknesses perfectly. He stormed out of the house. Less than thirty minutes later, Seraphina posted a new photo on social media. Two hands, intertwined. The caption read: “He’s back where he belongs.” 3 A few days later, it was my birthday. Knowing I would be leaving this world soon, I threw a large party, inviting all my closest friends. It was my farewell. But an uninvited guest appeared. Adrian. And he brought Seraphina with him. Around her neck was a stunning emerald necklace. I had seen it at an auction weeks ago. Adrian had bought it, supposedly as a birthday gift for me. He had given it to her instead. My friends, my real friends, shot me looks of pity and embarrassment. Adrian was humiliating me in front of everyone I cared about. He walked up to me, but before he could speak, his eyes were drawn to a framed calligraphy scroll in my friend’s hands. It was a piece by a famous artist she adored, one she had begged me for for years. I’d always refused. But now that I was leaving, I was giving away my entire collection to people who would appreciate it. Adrian’s brow furrowed. “That was your favorite. You looked at it every day. I pulled so many strings to get the artist to come out of retirement to make that for you!” I took a step back, my voice sharp. “What, you’re allowed to shower Miss Rowe with lavish gifts, but I’m not allowed to give my own things away?” He rubbed his temples, a weary look on his face. “Thea, you know that’s not what I mean.” He pulled me into a secluded corner, his eyes pleading. “Seraphina has been trying to get a meeting with Director Croft for months. He’s here tonight. She begged me to bring her. That’s all this is. Don’t overthink it.” His lips brushed my shoulder. “We’ve been married for years. Can’t we just be okay?” I shrugged him off, my smile bright and blinding. “Of course,” I chirped. “Director Croft and I are great friends. I’d be happy to make an introduction for Seraphina.” The relief in Adrian’s eyes was palpable. I remembered, five years ago, when I was sick in the hospital. Adrian was at his lowest point, unable to even afford my medical bills. One of his friends offered to help. Adrian glanced at me, his expression unreadable, and after a long silence, he refused. I suffered through the illness without proper medication, all for the sake of his pathetic pride. But for the girl he actually loved, he’d humble himself, scheme and plot to advance her career. The difference between being loved and not being loved was brutally clear. But I wasn’t about to play the gracious wife. If I returned his cruelty with kindness, what would be left for me? I walked over to Director Croft, a glass of champagne in my hand, and introduced Seraphina. “Her acting skills are phenomenal,” I said sweetly. “She played the part of the devoted lover so well she fooled Adrian completely. And she’s a master of illusion—poof!—she vanished the moment he was broke.” I continued, my voice dripping with false admiration. “Oh, and she can change her face in an instant. The way she sniffs out money and other people’s husbands… it’s like a dog spotting a bone.” Seraphina’s smile was frozen on her face. Adrian’s eyes were practically shooting sparks at me, but I didn’t care. I gestured grandly. “Director, if you have any supporting roles in your new film, you should consider Adrian, too. He’d be perfect for the part of a kicked dog.” Adrian’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “Thea,” he hissed. “Stop dredging up the past! You’re obsessed with being the victim. Are you going to mock me with this for the rest of our lives?” He was tired of hearing it. He probably couldn’t stand to be reminded of his own humiliating climb back from the bottom, a journey I had witnessed every painful step of. I rolled my eyes and met Seraphina’s gaze, which was filled with unshed, manipulative tears. The long-suffering wife who had seen him at his worst versus the unobtainable first love. No wonder he was still obsessed with her. Adrian snatched the glass from my hand. “Apologize to Seraphina. Now.” I slapped him, hard, across the face, leaving a bright red mark on his cheek. “You deserve to be played for a fool until the day you die.” I walked away as my friends called me over to cut the birthday cake. We were all gathered in the main hall when, without warning, the massive crystal chandelier overhead began to creak and sway. Screams erupted. People scrambled for safety. I heard my name being called—”Thea, watch out!”—and felt hands pulling me back. But among the voices filled with concern, not one belonged to my husband. The moment the chandelier began to fall, he didn’t run towards me. He lunged in the opposite direction, shielding Seraphina with his own body. A shard of glass still managed to slice her cheek. Adrian stared at the wound, his reason suddenly snapping. He spun around and stormed towards me. “You planned this! You knew the chandelier was faulty! You were trying to kill her, weren’t you?”

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The tour bus carrying my mother-in-law and my son went off a winding mountain road and flipped. The entire vehicle was caught on a tree, suspended over the edge of a cliff, threatening to plummet at any moment. My husband, Mark, was the captain of the nearest fire and rescue squad. But when the police called for help, they discovered he’d taken his entire team off-duty to watch his old flame’s son compete in a school event. In my first life, I had a friend physically drag him from that school to the scene, and he managed to save his mother and our son. But because her son didn’t win first place, his old flame felt humiliated and cut him off completely. Mark was also investigated and fired for dereliction of duty. After his mother and our son were discharged from the hospital, he tied me and my friend up and threw us from that same cliff. “If it weren’t for you,” he screamed, “I wouldn’t have lost everything!” This time, his old flame’s son got his first-place trophy. But Mark would never have a reason to smile again. 1 The wail of sirens filled the air. A sharp rap on my car window startled me. “Ma’am, have you called for help?” an officer asked, his face etched with urgency. I flinched, my head snapping up to take in the scene before me. For a moment, my mind was blank. Then it hit me. I was reborn. In my last life, my mother-in-law had forgotten her scarf and called me to bring it to her. By the time I arrived, the tour bus had already left, so she told me to just follow behind them in my car. I don’t know what happened up ahead, but the bus suddenly swerved out of control and plunged over the side of the mountain. I’d frantically called my husband, but he’d hung up on me with an annoyed sigh. When I called 911, the dispatcher told me Mark had taken his entire unit to a school event for Serena Gable’s son. The officer’s voice pulled me back to the present. My hand tightened around my phone. The memory of my bones shattering on the rocks below was still a phantom pain in my limbs. Seeing me frozen, the officer must have thought I was in shock. He pulled out his own phone to call for rescue. The answer he received was the exact same one I had gotten before. Just then, my phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. “Clara, you have to save us! Save me and Leo!” she shrieked. “My battery is about to die! Call my son! Tell him to come save us!” The officer leaned in. “You have family on that bus?” “Yes, my mother-in-law and my son. My husband, Mark Vance, is the captain of the nearest rescue squad.” “Then call him! Now! We’ll contact other units in the meantime.” I dialed Mark’s number right there in front of the officer. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. The voice on the other end was the one that haunted my nightmares. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me? I’m cheering for Cody!” “Mark, the bus your mom and Leo were on went over the cliff,” I said, my voice tight with manufactured panic. “It’s caught on a tree, but it won’t hold for long. You have to get here now!” Suddenly, Serena’s soft voice was on the line. “Clara, please, I’m begging you. Cody doesn’t have a father. Having Mark here to support him means the world. Please don’t make him leave. I don’t want to ruin this for my son.” Her voice grew thick with false tears. “I know you’ve always been worried about us, but I promised you, I would never break up your family. You don’t have to make up lies like this to get him to leave. I’ll never contact him again after today, I swear.” Mark snatched the phone back, his voice thick with rage. “You’d use my own mother and son in a lie? What kind of person are you? The more you act like this, the less I want to come home to you! Don’t you dare bother me again today!” He was about to hang up when the officer took the phone from my hand. “This is Officer Miller with the Westwood Police Department. Your wife is not lying. The situation here is critical. I’ve already contacted your station, and they confirmed your entire unit is off-site while all other units are on active calls. I’m ordering you to return with your team immediately. There are thirty-four lives hanging in the balance.” But the line just filled with more voices—Mark’s teammates, jeering in the background. “Who’s this guy, Cap? I know people at Westwood PD, never heard of a Miller.” “Yeah, Clara, you keep Cap on a tight enough leash as it is. Can’t you give him a break? And don’t drag the whole squad into your drama. We’ll get written up for this!” Even the officer’s face flushed with anger. I whispered to him, “Please, just call another unit. That bus doesn’t have much time.” In my last life, they hadn’t believed me either. The school was close, and a friend of mine, David, worked nearby. I’d called him in a panic. He’d run over and gotten the principal involved, which finally forced Mark and his team to respond. But in the end, both David and I paid for it with our lives. This time, I wouldn’t drag another innocent person down with me. Mark must have overheard me. “That’s enough, Clara!” he snarled through the phone. “How many people are you going to involve in this? I know every fire chief and rescue captain in this area. You so much as call one of them, and I’ll show you what happens to liars!” 2 After he hung up, the officer was seething. “I’ll be damned if I let some petty squad captain play God!” He started making calls, his voice sharp and commanding. I sighed. Mark could, and would, make this difficult. He’d worked at nearly every station in the county, and though he never got promoted, he had connections. He only got the captain position with the new rescue squad because they’d offered it to him upfront. “You should call a unit from further out,” I urged. “Otherwise, it’ll be too late.” I knew the timeline. Including rescue time, that bus had exactly forty minutes on that tree before it fell. Last time, even though Mark’s team arrived relatively quickly, his reckless focus on his family caused a shift that snapped a major branch. Half the passengers died. Even without his interference, the bus had an hour, at best. A team from the next county would take over forty minutes to get here. It would be close, but it was the only chance to save anyone. As if on cue, my phone rang again. It was Rick, from a nearby fire station. He was an old classmate of Mark’s and used to come over for dinner. “Clara, you’re putting me in a tough spot,” he said, his voice strained. “You and Mark need to stop fighting like this.” “Dispatch just sent us an alert, and then Mark called me himself. You can’t be wasting state resources like this. Filing a false report is a serious crime.” The officer, enraged, snatched the phone. “I’m the one who called dispatch. This is Officer Miller, Westwood PD—” Rick cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, Mark told me about you. Said there’s no Miller at Westwood. Tell Clara to stop the act. I’m doing her a favor. I’ve already canceled the alert.” 3 My mother-in-law called again. The background was a cacophony of screams and prayers. “Help us! Did you call Mark or not?” “I did, Mom. He’s not coming.” A torrent of abuse erupted from the phone. “Useless! I never should have let Mark marry you! You can’t do one simple thing right!” Then, Leo’s voice, sharp and accusing, cut through. “Mommy, why are you so useless? If Serena was here, she would have made Daddy come save us!” My eyes burned, and tears spilled down my cheeks. This was the family I had given everything to maintain. A husband who only had eyes for another woman, a mother-in-law who despised me, and a son—my own son—who called someone else “Mommy.” His grandmother had always preferred Serena, the gentle, stay-at-home type. I was an executive at a media firm. I had a career, clients to meet. I couldn’t be at Mark’s beck and call every second of the day. But for years, I was the one who paid for the house, the cars, the food on their table. And I never received a single word of thanks. I had just wanted a happy family. When his mother was bedridden after surgery, I took a long leave of absence to care for her, even cleaning her bedpans. Her attitude had just started to soften when Serena reappeared with a son in tow. My mother-in-law didn’t just welcome them, she rented them an apartment in our neighborhood and invited them over for meals every single day. Serena won my son over with junk food and cheap toys until he saw me as the enemy. For a long time, he called her “Mommy” and called me by my first name. Mark drained our savings to buy Serena and her son a large house. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Clara,” he’d said. “I owe her this. As my wife, it’s your duty to help me carry this burden.” I was furious, but for the sake of a love I thought we still had, and the memory of three happy years before our son was born, I endured it. I endured it all, right up until the moment it cost me my life. Suddenly, a rock hit my forehead. Warm blood streamed down my face. Several people, family members of the passengers, were rushing towards me, throwing whatever they could find. “My mom called me from the bus! She said your husband is the rescue captain! Why isn’t he here?” “He has no right to abandon his post! This is criminal negligence! If my mother dies, I’ll make sure your whole family pays!” I scrambled back into my car, clutching my bleeding head, and tried to video call Mark. He declined it instantly and sent a text. Stop playing games! You want me to divorce you? Is that it? Then he blocked me. I tried his teammates, and Serena. Blocked. All of them. I called my mother-in-law one last time. Her phone was off. It seems fate wants you gone, I thought grimly. I did my best. 4 The chaos outside intensified. A terrified scream cut through the noise. “It’s slipping! The bus is slipping!” I jumped out of my car and ran to the edge. No matter how much I hated them, I couldn’t stand by and watch innocent people die. As a last resort, I called David. Before I could even speak, he answered, his voice urgent. “I’m almost there with a chopper! Just hold on!” I was stunned. He hung up before I could ask any questions. Moments later, a helicopter appeared in the sky, flying directly over the dangling bus. David was the first one down the rope. He immediately began the rescue. I could see his equipment wasn’t standard-issue, and someone in the helicopter was gesturing, directing him. But it was a ray of hope. I heard my mother-in-law shouting from the back of the bus. “Save me first! Are you deaf? I’m an old woman, save me first!” But I also heard the person in the helicopter yelling to David over the rotors, “Follow my instructions, or the whole bus will go down!” Slowly, carefully, David began pulling people up, one by one. We all watched from the roadside, holding our breath. Twenty minutes later, the roar of more helicopters filled the air. Professional rescue teams had finally arrived. Tears of relief streamed down my face. All around me, family members were hugging and crying. “They’re saved! They’re saved!” I glanced at the time on my phone and my heart lurched. There were only twenty minutes left before the bus would fall. Last time, with only two helicopters and Mark’s reckless interference, many lives were lost. But this time, with so many rescuers, maybe it would be enough. I watched the clock, my stomach in knots. The seconds ticked by. With five minutes left, everyone had been evacuated except for my mother-in-law and Leo, who were at the very back. A rescuer lowered a harness, telling her to secure herself and the boy. But she threw a fit. “What kind of service is this? Why do we have to do it ourselves? Don’t just stand there, get down here and strap us in! What if we do it wrong and fall? Will you take responsibility?” But the bus was tilted at such a precarious angle that the weight of another person would send it over the edge. The rescuer pleaded with her, but she just kept arguing. And as they argued, the countdown on my phone hit zero. A collective shriek pierced the air as the bus finally broke free and plunged into the abyss, taking my mother-in-law and my son with it. David was standing beside me now. He had Mark as a friend on his social media and opened his profile for me to see. A video had been posted one minute ago. It showed Mark, Serena, and Cody, holding a first-place trophy, all of them beaming with joy. The caption read: [So proud of my boy!] Just then, Officer Miller walked over, his face grim. “You should tell your husband to come and collect the bodies.” I just showed him the red exclamation mark on my phone screen, indicating I was still blocked. His face hardened. “Fine,” he said, his voice like ice. “I’ll go pick him up in my squad car myself.”

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My brother hated me for years. In the final moment before I died, I made a wish: that he could find the person he loves and live happily ever after. The next second, I was in a wedding dress, shooting bolt upright in my coffin. My brother, Adrian, was placing a ring on my finger. A notification chimed in my mind: 「Wish System activated. Target is currently with his most beloved person. Mission progress: 10%.」 「Please continue your efforts, Host, to fulfill your own wish.」 Me: “?” 1 “Do you promise to cherish her, to never leave her, until the end of time?” “I do.” As Adrian Grant spoke those two words, my eyes snapped open inside the coffin. Brilliant light poured through the chapel’s stained-glass dome, only to be blocked by the man kneeling before me. His eyes were downcast, his hand holding mine, sliding something onto my ring finger. A massive diamond threw blinding shards of light across the room. He was dressed a little too formally for a funeral. His cold, handsome features were cast in the heavenly light, giving them a deathly stillness. Oh. That was my brother. The person who despised me more than anyone else in the world. He actually came to my funeral? Whispers rustled through the pews. “The old man is really going through with it.” “Of course, he is. Mel was his precious granddaughter. Her dying wish was that she loved Adrian. What does he care about propriety at this point? Adrian had to marry her, dead or alive.” “Poor Adrian. He was supposed to marry Zoe. Now he has to spend the rest of his life bound to his dead sister.” “An adopted son… what’s the difference between him and a dog, really?” The words I was hearing didn’t sound much like a eulogy. Grandfather was forcing Adrian into a posthumous wedding with me? I did confess to Adrian before I died, but I also told him I wanted him to be with the person he truly loved. The old man must have only heard the first part. “Mr.… Mr. Grant…” the officiant stammered, his voice trembling. Adrian’s movement stopped. He followed the officiant’s gaze and his eyes locked onto mine. His expression froze. His grip on my wrist tightened, a crushing pressure that felt like it would snap the bone. Pain shot through me, and I gasped. Seriously, does he have to hate me this much? Suddenly, a gentle, mechanical voice echoed in my head. 「Wish System activated. Target is currently with his most beloved person. Mission progress: 10%.」 “What’s going on?” I thought, bewildered. “Hello? Is anyone there?” The voice in my head explained patiently, 「The Wish System is randomly distributed to grant the final wishes of the dying. Our records show your final wish was for your brother to be with the one he loves and find true happiness.」 “And?” 「Well, the person your brother loves most is you, Host. So, we’ve brought you back to life. You’ll have to complete the wish yourself.」 The words struck me like a bolt of lightning. Wait a second… Adrian loves me? 2 The first to reach me were my parents. They shoved a stunned Adrian aside and pulled me from the coffin, hugging me tightly, their tears streaming down. “Mel! You’re alive! Our daughter is alive!” The air was squeezed from my lungs. I felt like a wooden doll, my gaze fixed on Adrian, who was still standing where he’d been pushed. The ring was clutched in his hand. His dark eyes were lowered, his perfect features lost in shadow. A fresh gash marred the back of his hand from the shove, a thin line of crimson welling up. He calmly wrapped a handkerchief around the wound and turned to leave. I lifted a hand, my voice barely a whisper. “I… I want Adrian.” The room fell silent. Adrian’s eyelids twitched. He slowly looked up at me. I pulled away from my parents and threw my arms around him, a dam of years of unspoken feelings finally breaking. “Don’t go,” I cried, burying my face in his chest. “Don’t leave me.” Adrian went completely still. And in my head, I heard the notification: 「Mission progress: 11%.」 3 “Absolutely not. Mel cannot marry him.” “Exactly. That was when we thought Mel was gone. She’s alive now. Why would we let her be with someone so calculating?” In the living room, my parents were arguing with Grandfather again. Adrian acted as if he heard nothing. He tucked me into my bed, pulled the covers up, and turned to walk away. I shot out a hand and grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Adrian… can you… can you hold me?” I would never have dared to say something so audacious before. But the system had assured me, repeatedly, that my brother was head-over-heels in love with me, so I found the courage to try. The last rays of the setting sun slanted into the room, outlining his silhouette in a lonely light. Adrian looked back at me, his face half-hidden in shadow. A faint, mocking smile touched his lips. “Are you done playing, Mel? Was faking your death fun? Is messing with your brother fun, too?” “I didn’t…” He walked back towards me, his tall frame casting an oppressive shadow as he backed me against the wall. His beautiful face was cold, his eyes like ice. “When you’re happy, you feed me sweet nothings. When you’re bored, you call off the engagement. Is that how you treat me, Mel? Like something you can just throw away?” “No, that’s not it—” He gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Then tell me. What is it you really want?” My breathing grew ragged. I took a few desperate gulps of air and, bracing myself, said, “Happy birthday.” The room plunged into an unnerving silence. Adrian’s eyes turned glacial. If the system hadn’t pinged to tell me the progress had just jumped by 5%, I would have bolted. “They all forgot your birthday today,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. I wiped them away. “I just… I just wanted to celebrate with you…” In the dead quiet, I clumsily recited the only formal blessing I could remember, one we used for Grandfather. “May… may your years be many and your fortunes grow, may the… the winds of spring…” My voice trailed off under his blank stare. “May the sun shine upon you for thirty years more…” Shut up, you idiot! The silence was now laced with a fresh layer of humiliation. Adrian’s voice was a low murmur. “The last line.” “The last line…” I averted my eyes. “I forgot…” An eternity of silence stretched on. He didn’t move. The system was in a frenzy.【Warning! Warning! Target’s heart rate is dangerously high! Host, continue with your current strategy, but be careful not to overstimulate him!】 I took a deep breath. “I didn’t get you a cake. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you next time, I—” Suddenly, Adrian’s mouth was on mine. He didn’t kiss me; he devoured me. A fierce, unresolved anger fueled the assault as he pinned me against the wall. His hand wrapped around my neck, not choking me, but holding me captive, a silent threat that he could snap it if he wanted to. My mind went blank. The system’s alarm was screaming. This must mean he really, really liked me. A tremor of excitement ran through me. Something deep inside my heart, long buried, finally broke through the soil, a tiny sprout swaying joyfully in the wind. He gave me no chance to escape, pressing me against the door until the lack of oxygen forced a desperate sob from my lips. On the other side of that door, I could hear the muffled voices of my family, their words dripping with prejudice and contempt for him. “You hear that?” Adrian’s voice was a cold rasp against my ear. “What makes you think I don’t hate them? Every insult they throw at me… you’ll be the one to bear it.” The system cackled in my head.【He’s just posturing! Don’t listen to him. If his heart beats any faster, he’s going to need an ambulance. Host, choose your next words carefully. Don’t actually give your brother a heart attack.】 I fell silent, seriously asking the system, “So when can I say the next thing?” 【Give him thirty seconds. Let him recover.】 “Got it.” Adrian tilted my face up, the darkness in his eyes threatening to drown me. My silence seemed to be driving him mad. “Scared? If you’re scared, then—” “Adrian, let’s get married.” The system shrieked.【Whoa! What are you doing? You were supposed to wait! You’re going to kill him!】 But I knew I had to seize the moment. I clutched his sleeve. “I’m not calling it off. Not even if I die again. You… you go tell them.” The storm in Adrian’s eyes subsided into a dead calm. He stared at my face, his thumb tracing the swollen outline of my lips. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go tell them.” 4 They all said Adrian had lost his mind. He was unyieldingly stubborn about our marriage. It offered him no benefit, yet he clung to it like a feral dog with a bone. “Maybe he really does love Mel Grant. Who knows.” “You must be new here. Remember that kidnapping case from years ago? The one that was all over the news?” “Adrian was nearly killed. And you know what happened when he came back? The Grants didn’t even ask if he was okay. They just punished him for failing to protect Mel. If you ask me, he’s getting revenge on the family. Mel’s life is going to be hell.” Right then, the “doomed” bride in question had just pushed open the door to Adrian’s office. “Adrian.” He looked up, his expression as impassive as ever. But now, with the system as my guide, I wasn’t afraid of his cold shoulder. I held up a cake box and waggled it at him with a grin. “I’m here to give you your make-up birthday celebration.” Adrian had beautiful eyes, but his aloof nature meant he usually kept them lowered, ignoring the world. Now, being the focus of his gaze, I felt my heart begin to race. “I spent a whole hour on it!” I opened the box and fell silent. The white frosting had collapsed on one side. On the left, a lopsided “Adrian” was scrawled in strawberry jam; on the right, a wobbly “Mel.” In the middle, a clumsy heart contained the tacky word “LOVE.” The baker had apparently remembered halfway through that this was a birthday cake, not a confession, and had hastily squeezed “Happy Birthday” in red jam across the remaining empty space. Adrian stared at the cake for a long moment before looking away. The system pinged.【Yay! Mission progress is up to 20%! But wait… something’s not right.】 “What’s not right?” 【Based on how much he loves you, this should have been enough to send the progress bar to 100%.】 I was baffled. Adrian’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Grandfather spoke to me.” “About what?” His face was bathed in sunlight, but his eyes were unnervingly calm. I had a bad feeling he was about to say something I didn’t want to hear. “I will take responsibility for you. I will never hurt you. So… you don’t have to go this far. You don’t have to force yourself to like me.” The candle I’d stuck in the cake finally gave up. Plop. Its flame was extinguished in the creamy frosting. Adrian’s smile was faint. “And I don’t celebrate my birthday. You don’t need to go to the trouble in the future.” 【Ooh, drama!】The system was practically eating popcorn.【So that’s the reason. A severe case of ‘I’m not worthy.’ Host, give him a piece of your mind! How dare he question your sincerity?】 I was in no mood for the system’s teasing. I silently picked the fallen candle out of the frosting. I’d even put in a bunch of them because he was older. Silence hung in the air. Adrian loosened his tie, his gaze fixed on a contract he hadn’t turned the page of. “If there’s nothing else, you should go. I’ll pick you up for dinner later—” “Dinner? To hell with your dinner!” I snapped. I shoved the frosting-covered candle right onto the lapel of his expensive suit. “You’re an asshole! Go eat by yourself!” Without waiting for his reaction, I stormed out of the office. “Mel, wait, I was just coming to see your brother…” I brushed past a woman, ignoring her completely. The system yelled,【Host! Are you crazy? You can’t fight with him!】 “I don’t care! I spent an hour on that cake! And he doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday?” 【Okay, okay, calm down,】the system soothed.【So we lose a little progress, we can make it up later—holy crap! It went up?】 “What went up?” 【The progress bar! He likes it when you get angry at him?】 “Don’t ask me,” I grumbled. “Maybe your sensors are broken.” 【By the way, who was that woman?】 “Zoe, probably. His college friend. Everyone assumes they’re going to get married.” 【The rival,】the system summarized. I paused, then turned to go back. I raised my hand to the door, then stopped. “This is pathetic.” 【It’s not pathetic,】the system encouraged.【It’s called recon. Just press your ear against the door.】 I slowly leaned in. “Fine.” 5 My memory of Zoe was from Adrian’s college days. I’d run away from home after a fight and gone to see him. I saw her at a debate tournament—his teammate. Zoe was the walking embodiment of the perfect, popular girl from a novel: beautiful, kind, graceful. She shone like a star. Everyone said they were together. The news made me both sad and happy. Sad for myself, happy because my brother deserved to be with someone good. Later, Adrian came home and joined the family company. Zoe came back too, becoming his business partner and confidante. That’s why, on my deathbed, I had genuinely wished for him to be with the one he loved. Inside the office, I could hear Zoe’s cheerful voice. “Who’s the cake from? Let me have a bite.” Peeking through the crack in the door, I saw Adrian pick up the cake, moving it away from her. “Mel made it.” The system let out an excited squeak.【Ooh, ‘Mel made it.’】 Zoe paused. “But you don’t eat sweets. Why not let me have it?” Adrian placed it on a nearby shelf without a word. “Adrian?” “Is there anything else? If not, I have to go pick Mel up for dinner.” 【Danger! Host, run!】 I took off down the hall, sending Adrian a quick text: “Don’t look for me tonight. I’m staying at a friend’s.” … 【Are you sure this is a good idea?】 It was 11 PM, and I was sitting in a bar, staring into a drink I couldn’t identify. “What’s wrong with it? Do adults have curfews?” “Mel, you’re here too.” The face from earlier today appeared before me again. Zoe had changed into a stunning dress, every movement exuding a captivating charm. “Hi,” I nodded politely. She sat down beside me, glancing at my glass. “That’s pretty strong, Mel. I wouldn’t drink that in front of your brother if I were you. You might…” She smirked. “…show your true colors.” My head snapped up, my face paling. “I don’t know what you mean.” “Last year, at New Year’s, you left in a hurry and dropped a photo album at my brother Ethan’s place. I took a look. Do you want me to be honest?” Zoe tilted her head. “Those photos were… rather disgusting.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. Ethan was my classmate and Zoe’s younger brother. We’d seen each other at a reunion. I must have dropped the album getting out of the car. By the time I went back for it, he’d already left the country. I’d been hoping, foolishly, that no one had found it. “That wasn’t me, it was—” “I’m not interested in your excuses,” Zoe interrupted, paying my tab and grabbing her coat. “I just find that kind of thing… repulsive. Oh, by the way, Ethan has always had a thing for you. Maybe you two should talk.” If there was one person in the world I truly despised, it was Ethan. A trust-fund kid with no concept of personal boundaries, warped by a hedonistic foreign lifestyle. And there was one secret I was terrified of Adrian ever discovering. A secret that was now in Ethan’s hands. 6 It was nearly midnight when I got home. A few minutes earlier, a message had popped up on my phone. Ethan: 「It’s a date then, babe. Saturday, 5 PM. Don’t be late.」 The system said,【He just wants you to see a movie with him at the mall. One simple request in exchange for the album. It’s a fair trade. Just be discreet so your brother doesn’t find out.】 “I guess.” As I stepped toward the elevator, I saw a figure standing in the shadows. Adrian? I’d moved into my own place after I turned eighteen. Very few people knew the address. How did he find me? The light from the hallway illuminated his face. His collar was unbuttoned, and he smelled faintly of alcohol, as if he’d just come from a business dinner. I stiffened, pretending not to see him. “Mel.” His voice, low and hoarse, came from behind me. He grabbed my wrist. I struggled to pull free, keeping my head down. “Don’t touch me. I’ve thought it over. We should just go our separate ways.” Adrian pulled me into his arms. “I ate the cake. I ate all of it. Please, don’t throw me away. Okay?” That’s when I realized something was wrong. He felt hot. He was running a fever. “Are you crazy? You’re drinking with a fever?” He leaned against me. “I don’t know… I don’t know… It’s always like this…” Always? Does this happen a lot? His phone rang. It was Grandfather. I answered it for him. “Adrian, about that project tonight, we need to renegotiate. Once we secure that land on the west side—” “Grandfather, he’s sick.” There was a pause. Then his tone became sickeningly sweet. “Mel? Put your brother on. A little fever is nothing. I have important business with him.” So that’s what “always” meant. “It’s after hours,” I stated flatly. “My brother is off the clock.” I hung up. When I looked up, Adrian was watching me, his eyes dark and bright. He leaned in slowly, cautiously. When I didn’t pull away, he kissed my eyes, my nose, and finally, my lips. “I was wrong.” “Mel, I shouldn’t have made you angry today.” When he was sick, he was like a different person. So much more honest. I took his hand. “Alright. Since you’re being so sincere, you can come home with me.” He let me lead him into the elevator. My apartment was sparsely furnished, but luckily, I had a spare blanket. Adrian sat quietly while I looked for it. When he closed his eyes, his long lashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks, making him look peaceful and serene. Looking at his face, I felt a sudden urge to tell him everything. To confess my secret. But I stopped myself. I couldn’t be fooled by this harmless facade. Adrian was still Adrian. If he started to hate me, it would be all over. 7 The next morning, I opened my bedroom door to find Adrian in the kitchen, making breakfast. “Adrian…” He heard me and said, “Breakfast is on the table. I have to go on a business trip today, so I can’t be with you.” A small pang of disappointment hit me. Just as I expected, one night and he was back to his cold, distant self. But today was also the day I was meeting Ethan. It was probably for the best that he was gone. Still, I felt a strange reluctance to see him go. I followed him around like a puppy. “How long will you be gone?” “Just three days. I’ll be back before you know it.” “Then we’ll get our marriage license as soon as you’re back.” He ladled hot porridge into a bowl for me. “Okay,” he murmured. My mind at ease, I suddenly remembered that the birthday present I’d ordered for him had arrived. I jumped up. “I’m going to get a package!” “Put a coat on.” A few minutes later, I was in the elevator, holding the gift, when the system’s voice filled my head with alarm.【Huh? Why did the progress drop?】 【Holy—! It’s plummeting! Oh god, it’s below 10%! What’s happening?!】 Panic seized me. “What’s wrong?” 【Don’t freak out! Stay calm, Host. Give me a minute, I need to contact tech support. It’s probably not your fault.】 “Okay, please hurry.” I sprinted back to my apartment. When I opened the door, Adrian was clearing the dishes, his back to me. The morning sun stretched his shadow long across the floor. “Adrian.” He turned, his expression unchanged. But something felt off. “Here’s your present. Don’t open it until you’re on your way!” “Alright.” Adrian grabbed his jacket. “It’s getting late. I have to go.” I didn’t want to mess up his schedule. I snatched my phone from the table and stood on my toes to give him a quick kiss. “Text me when you get there!” A small smile touched his lips. “I will.” … I let out a long breath as he left. Glancing at my phone, I felt a ridiculous pang of guilt, as if I were cheating. A few minutes ago, Ethan had messaged me. 「Babe, is your brother gone yet? I can’t wait to see you. Can we meet earlier?」 I typed back a curt reply: 「Shut up!」 After a moment’s thought, I decided it was better to get it over with. Daytime was fine. I arranged to meet Ethan at a coffee shop. The system still hadn’t returned, and a sense of unease settled over me. I couldn’t wait to get that album and burn it. The sun was just rising, but the streets were already warming up. When I entered the cafe, Ethan was already there. He stood up and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Ethan!” I hissed, for what felt like the hundredth time. “We are not in Europe!” He grinned and sat back down. “Long time no see. You seem… happier than last time.” “Give me the album,” I said, getting straight to the point. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me like that. Spend the day with me, and it’s yours.” I’ve always been a patient person. If I can solve something peacefully, I will. After a full day of trailing Ethan around the mall, he suddenly changed his mind about the movie. “Darling, do me a favor.” “What?” He leaned in close, his warm breath stirring my hair. “My sister’s here. She’s always trying to set us up. I don’t want to hear about it when I get home.” I instinctively tried to pull away, but he grabbed my wrist. “This is the last condition.” I waited impatiently for him to back off. “Can I have it now?” He gave me a meaningful smile. “It’s in the car. Come with me.” I got into his car. He pulled the red box I’d been agonizing over from the back seat. My heart finally settled. Ethan started to say something else, then whistled. “I was going to offer you a ride, but it looks like you don’t need one.” I followed his gaze and my heart stopped. “Your brother’s here for you.” Adrian was standing across the street. He got out of his car, crossed the road, and pulled open the passenger door of Ethan’s car. His face was a calm, cold mask. “I’m here to take Mel home.” Ethan looked amused but nodded politely. “Alright. See you, Mel.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385755”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My roommate’s livestreamed confession to the campus belle was a total train wreck. To save face, he swiped my phone and confessed to her again. Her reply came in a flood: 【Babe, I’m already head over heels for you. How much more do you want me to like you?】 【Can we go public? Please? I’m so tired of sneaking around.】 【Some other loser just confessed to me, and I shut him down so fast!】 【You’re the only one for me, babe. The only one!】 My roommate stared, dumbfounded. The live chat went into meltdown. And I just froze. 1 My roommate, Ian, was live again. He’s a minor influencer, with a couple hundred thousand followers on a popular streaming platform. To keep them engaged, he spends a few nights a week live, just hanging out. For him, it’s just business. For me and our other two roommates, it’s a nightmare. A dorm room is supposed to be a private space. In the sweltering summer heat, walking around shirtless isn’t exactly a rare occurrence. But after we accidentally wandered into his stream once, we all started dressing like we were heading into a blizzard, even in our own room. But even fully clothed, you can’t avoid pajamas. And no one wants to be an unintentional background character in someone else’s content. The three of us sat Ian down and gently suggested he be a little more careful. He got all self-righteous. “Come on, guys. My whole brand is the ‘college guy’ lifestyle. My fans watch me for an authentic look at my life, you know?” “If I stream from behind my bed curtain, what’s the point? Are you guys going to cover the ad revenue I lose?” “Besides,” he added, “I’m doing you a favor. Do you have any idea how much I make a month from this? A little screen time could make you guys famous, too.” My other two roommates and I just stood there, speechless. Then he turned on me. “And you, Leo!” “You were wearing those gray sweatpants and walking behind me on purpose last time, weren’t you? Do you know how many DMs I get asking for your number? Seriously, if you’re that desperate for clout, just say so. Don’t pull cheap tricks like that.” I was about to lose it. The next day, he had the nerve to go on stream and complain to his fans that his roommates were bullying him. He even worked up some tears, his eyes red as he sobbed about being an outcast. His fans, of course, went on the attack. In that unhinged comment section, I was called things I’d never even heard before. A regular person’s voice is no match for an influencer’s. We were branded as bullies overnight. Our new motto became: If you can’t beat him, avoid him. Today, the other two guys were out. But I was stuck with a last-minute group project, forced to sit at my desk, a prisoner in my own room. Even with noise-canceling headphones on, Ian’s voice cut through. “Two hundred thousand followers! You guys asked for a special stream, and the number one request was to watch me confess to my crush.” He feigned a blush. “So, I guess today’s the day. I’m going to confess to Miss C.” “And yes, it’ll be live. This is a huge moment for me, and I want all of you to be here for it!” Ian was a master at crafting his online persona. He was cute, and he filled his feed with photos of himself paired with angsty captions about his secret crush. It had a very old-school, sentimental vibe. The contrast of a good-looking guy nursing a secret love was catnip for his audience, and he quickly became a minor celebrity in the online romance niche. A live confession was guaranteed to pull massive numbers. I had to admit, the guy would do anything for views. Ian added, almost shyly, “And I guess I can stop calling her Miss C. Her name… it’s Chloe Reed. Yeah, the Chloe Reed.” He smiled into the camera. “So, yeah. I’m about to confess to Chloe Reed.” My head snapped up. What the hell?! The girl he’s confessing to is my girlfriend? 2 Even though she’s not a celebrity, Chloe has her own online following. Unlike Ian, who meticulously curated his content, Chloe’s fame was a complete accident. It started with a campus news interview. A breakfast spot near the university was embroiled in a scandal—someone claimed they found a dead rat in a meat bun. To salvage their reputation, the shop arranged for a reporter to interview customers out front. By sheer luck, they flagged down Chloe. She was half-asleep, a carton of soy milk dangling from her lips, holding a massive bag of meat buns. The reporter was thrilled. “You bought so many! These buns must be amazing, right?” “Nope,” Chloe said, deadpan. “We’ve got a mouse problem in our dorm. I heard these buns are so bad they could kill a rat. Figured I’d buy a few and see if the rumors are true.” The reporter started sweating. “Haha, well, you don’t need that many, do you?” Chloe replied, “My roommate said she wanted to taste the legendary bun that could take down a rodent. I’m getting some for her.” Desperate, the reporter changed tactics, pointing to her soy milk. “You seem to be enjoying that! Their soy milk must be delicious, at least?” Chloe paused for a beat, then delivered the final blow. “I got this from the place next door.” The interview ended there. Someone uploaded the clip, and it went viral. Chloe’s stunning looks, her status as a student at a top university, and her dry, deadpan humor earned her a legion of fans overnight. Her actual social media account was incredibly boring. A few everyday videos, a couple of photos. Normally, an account that inactive would fade into obscurity. But then, on a popular talk show, the award-winning actress Claire Reed casually mentioned that the viral “rat-bun girl” was her little sister. Her actual, biological sister. And just like that, Chloe Reed was a name everyone on the internet knew. I discreetly opened Ian’s stream. The viewer count was already over ten thousand, a massive jump from his usual numbers, and it was still climbing fast. Ian was beaming. “Yes, I’m really doing it! No clickbait. If you want to see it happen, stick around.” The chat was exploding with comments about Chloe. 【Is he really confessing to her? Why am I so excited about this!】 【Claire Reed’s fan here! This guy is cute, hope it works out!】 【Our new brother-in-law, lol. Our new brother-in-law, lol. Our new brother-in-law, lol.】 【Hey, back off my man!】 【Chloe’s fan reporting in! I love a gorgeous girl with a deadpan sense of humor!】 【Is it just me, or does Chloe seem totally different from the ‘Miss C’ Ian always talks about? I pictured Miss C being more of an ice queen.】 【@ a few comments up, you know Chloe personally? Maybe she is an ice queen in private.】 【The interview proves she can’t be an ice queen!】 【Who knows her better, Ian or you guys? You all act like one viral video is the gospel truth.】 【But Claire also said her sister is a total goofball…】 Ian bit his lip, pretending to be nervous. “She is a little cold to me sometimes. Maybe I shouldn’t do this?” His fans rushed to comfort him. 【NOOOO! Ian, all your stories about Miss C are so sweet! There’s no way she doesn’t like you!】 【And you guys have ‘run into each other’ so many times! That’s not a coincidence. I’ll eat my hat if she wasn’t doing it on purpose!】 【I bet you a bag of chips she’s just playing hard to get in front of the guy she likes.】 【That fits the ice queen persona perfectly, lol.】 【So the little minx was leading our Ian on this whole time, just to make him confess publicly? What a schemer!】 【Go for it, Ian! You got this!】 Buoyed by his fans’ encouragement, Ian pumped his fist. “Okay!” 3 I scrolled through Ian’s profile, skeptical. He had a whole series of videos about “Miss C.” Ian had a knack for making ordinary events sound magical, which was probably how he’d gotten so many followers in the first place. But the more I watched, the more I doubted this “Miss C” was actually Chloe. It wasn’t that I blindly trusted my girlfriend not to cheat. It was that the Chloe he described was a complete stranger to me. My Chloe was childish. She was proud, immature, incredibly competitive and possessive, loved to be coddled, and was super clingy. Ian’s “Miss C,” on the other hand, was a character straight out of a romance novel. Giving him an umbrella in the rain, a hand-warmer in the winter, guiding him through a library blackout, a shared, meaningful glance across a crowded concert hall… even the stories sounded like fiction. I frowned and went back to the stream. The viewer count had skyrocketed past one hundred thousand. They were all here for Chloe. 【I wish he was doing a video call. I want to see her face again.】 【Didn’t her student ID photo leak a while back? Still gorgeous.】 【This has to be a publicity stunt, right? Are they going to launch a couple’s channel next?】 【Please, Chloe doesn’t even ride her own sister’s coattails for clout. Why would she care about some streamer’s numbers?】 【She’s not even active online.】 【Conspiracy theory: what if he’s the one using her for clout?】 【Anyone saying he’s clout-chasing needs to go watch his ‘Miss C’ series! It’s so obvious they both have feelings!】 On screen, Ian opened his contacts list, found the profile picture labeled “Chloe Reed,” and tapped it. As if to prove it was really her, he even scrolled through her feed for the camera. I was stunned that they were even connected. And since Claire had posted a few chat screenshots with her sister before, Chloe’s profile picture was instantly recognizable to her fans. The entire chat held its breath. For some reason, I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from the source of all this chaos. 【Babe, are you still mad at me?】 【Please don’t be mad?】 【I really didn’t mean it, I just lost control for a second…】 【Babe, please answer me. You’re scaring me.】 【Leo, I’m begging you.】 【{Crying}{Kneeling}.jpg】 【Hubby hubby hubby hubby hubby hubby hubby hubby!】 I meant to just hide the notification, but my thumb slipped and hit “Delete and Clear History.” The entire chat log vanished. Even more annoyed, I tossed my phone aside. But I couldn’t just ignore the live confession. My roommate was broadcasting from five feet away. Even with my headphones cranked up, his voice bled through between songs. He was telling the story of how they first met. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my pajamas and headed for the shower. I had no idea that when I came back out, my entire world would be turned upside down. 4 Ian was still streaming. And it seemed to have gone well. He was grinning from ear to ear, thanking viewer after viewer for sending him expensive virtual gifts. The donations were pouring in. I was confused. A live confession, and people were sending him this much? Did Chloe actually say yes? No way, I thought, as I started searching my desk for my phone. It had been right there before my shower, but now it was gone, as if it had grown legs and walked away. I checked my bed, my closet, even the trash can. Nothing. A drop of water from my wet hair trickled down my neck. Ian’s triumphant laughter echoed in the room. I forced myself to calm down. The phone was gone, but then I remembered: I was logged into my messaging app on my laptop. I clicked it open. The number of unread messages made my heart pound. From my roommate, Sam: 【Leo, is that your phone Ian is holding?】 【Why did you let him use your phone?】 【HOLY SHIT! You and Chloe are dating???】 From my other roommate, Mark: 【You finish that group project yet?】 【Man, Ian is really making a big deal out of this. I heard about his live confession to Chloe all the way over at the library.】 【LMAO of course he failed. Serves him right!】 【Wait, why did he just grab your phone?】 【DUDE, get your phone back! Why did you give it to him?!】 【WTF!】 【You’re dating Chloe Reed?】 【And she’s your secret, lovesick girlfriend?!】 A wave of panic washed over me. It wasn’t until I clicked on my chat with Chloe that I understood what had happened. The chat log I’d accidentally erased was now filled with new messages. The first two were even from “me.” 【I like you.】 【Do you like me?】 Chloe’s reply was instantaneous. 【Babe, I’m already head over heels for you. How much more do you want me to like you?】 【Can I just rip my heart out and show you? I love you so much! Mwah mwah mwah~】 【Can we go public? Please?】 【I’m so tired of sneaking around.】 【Sometimes I feel like your dirty little secret, crying QAQ】 【Some other loser just confessed to me, and I shut him down so fast!】 【You’re the only one for me, babe. The only one!】 Ian had finished his stream at some point. With a loud clatter, he threw my long-lost phone onto my desk. He leaned against his bedpost, arms crossed, a smug look on his face. “Thanks for the help.” 5 “You used my phone to confess to her?” I asked, my voice shaking with disbelief. Ian shrugged, the picture of innocence. “Hey, as long as it makes for a good stream, right? Everyone thinks it’s my phone now anyway.” He flashed me a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Chloe were dating? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time trying to get her number.” “I thought you guys were just acquaintances. Turns out it’s a little more than that, huh?” “That was my phone!” I yelled, my anger boiling over. He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. It’s yours. So what? The entire internet thinks it’s mine. Are you going to go out and correct them?” Ian took a step closer. “Besides, you’re the one who wanted to keep it a secret, right? Now her public boyfriend is me. Isn’t that exactly what you wanted?” He clapped me on the shoulder. “You should be thanking me.” I slapped his hand away. Just then, the door opened and our other two roommates walked in. Sam took one look at the scene, immediately stepped in front of me, and glared at Ian. “Your own confession failed, so you stole Leo’s phone to do it again? How can you be so shameless?” Mark backed him up. “We’ve put up with enough of your crap! You think you’re so special just because you have a few followers?” Ian just smirked. “Actually, yeah. Having followers is pretty special.” He casually checked his phone. “And thanks to tonight’s stream, I’m up to three hundred thousand. So, Leo… how about you let me have your girlfriend?” I stared him down. “You’re not afraid I’ll expose you online?” He looked completely unfazed. “Go ahead. Let’s see who they believe. You, or me.” “Have you already forgotten what happened last time?” he said. “You tried to clear your names. Did anyone listen? Did anyone care? But all I have to do is cry a little, and my fans will believe anything I say. So go on, trash me online. My three hundred and forty thousand followers are ready for a fight.” He glanced at his phone again. “Oh, wait. Make that three hundred and fifty.” My fists clenched. My other roommates were stunned into silence by his sheer audacity. They looked at me, their eyes asking, What now? The false bullying accusation had been a painful lesson. I still remembered how helpless we’d felt. All Ian had to do was cry on camera, and we were suddenly the villains. The online hate from strangers was one thing, but the looks we got from other students on campus were worse. I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to retort, my phone lit up on the desk. The caller ID read: Chloe Reed. I met Ian’s triumphant gaze. “You’re right. No one will listen to me. No one will believe me,” I said, picking up the phone. “But what about Chloe?” The color drained from Ian’s face.

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Before our wedding, on the day he was supposed to pick up my dress, Anson Forrester was kidnapped. He survived, but he forgot me. The doctors said any mention of our wedding would trigger a seizure, a symptom of a dissociative fugue—a second personality born from the trauma. Just as I found out I was pregnant, the doctor offered a sliver of hope. “The arrival of a child might be the very thing to awaken the man who loves you so deeply!” I clutched the ultrasound printout, my heart filled with a fragile hope, and went to find him. But as I approached his study, I overheard him laughing with his friends. “Anson, you’re a genius. Faking a second personality to get out of a wedding? What’s next, a third? A fourth?” “No,” Anson’s voice was cold, decisive. “I love Sienna. This is the only time I’ll ever lie to her. I’ll stop after I’ve bagged another ten.” “Only ten? That’s barely enough to try out all the positions. I say you keep this up for a year or two. Sienna Blake isn’t going to marry anyone else.” His voice dropped, sharp and commanding. “I can’t stand to see her sad for that long. Now, are you going to find me some girls or not? I want them wild, but fresh. A new one every three days. This can’t delay my wedding to Sienna.” My hands shook as I tore the ultrasound printout to shreds. Then I turned and called the clinic to schedule an abortion. 1 When the doctor saw me return, she assumed I was feeling unwell. When I told her I wanted to terminate the pregnancy, her eyes widened in disbelief. “But this baby was a miracle for you two. If you go through with this, the shock could make your fiancé’s condition even worse!” I shook my head, a bitter smile on my lips. “If he knew, he’s the one who’d never recover.” After all, he was too busy enjoying his newfound freedom, playing the field without a care in the world. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. The same man who had begged me to marry him was faking an illness to deceive me. The doctor couldn’t change my mind. As she prepared the consent forms, she insisted on calling Anson. “Miss Blake, this child isn’t just yours. Even if his illness makes him not want a child right now, he should be here to sign the forms, to be with you. And if there’s been some misunderstanding, you can clear it up face-to-face…” I gently touched my stomach and didn’t stop her. I have PCOS; getting pregnant was a battle. Anson had never cared. He’d fought with his own parents just to marry me. Now, as I was about to let our child go, he deserved to be here for the farewell. But the moment the doctor began to speak, Anson’s laugh, cold and sharp, cut through the phone. “How much did Sienna Blake pay you for this little performance? I’ve told you, I don’t know her, let alone plan on marrying her.” “And please, tell her to stop with these pathetic tricks. For all I know, the kid isn’t even mine.” The dial tone echoed his cruel dismissal in the quiet room. I signed the forms myself and closed my eyes. When I woke up, my phone was filled with messages. All from Anson. 【Whatever we were before, it’s over. I’m me, you’re you. Instead of wasting your energy hiring actors to trick me, you should be moving your things out of my house.】 He had thoughtfully rented a fully furnished apartment for me in the same complex. He’d even paid the first month’s rent and signed a year-long lease so I wouldn’t be suspicious. 【Consider it a parting gift. You don’t owe me anything for it.】 I glanced at the bloody, formless tissue in the medical tray beside my bed and typed a calm reply. 【Okay. Thank you.】 The rent could be his final contribution to the child he never wanted. He didn’t contact me for the three days I was in the hospital. But his social media was a constant stream of parties and nightlife, as if he were desperately trying to reclaim the wild youth he’d sacrificed for me. I knew he was posting it for me to see. On my burner account, which he didn’t know about, his profile was silent. So I gave him what he wanted. I liked every single video. On the day I was discharged, I saw him and a doctor rushing a gurney down the hall. He glanced at me, then quickly looked away, pretending he hadn’t seen me. But I heard the paramedic’s urgent voice. “Prep OR 1 and get me Rh-negative blood, stat! The patient has a ruptured corpus luteum with major internal bleeding. We need to operate now!” “What? There’s none in stock?” The paramedic hung up and gave Anson the news. The man who had just ignored me suddenly stopped, spun around, and ran towards me. “Sienna, if you donate blood for Raina, I’ll overlook the fact that you’re stalking me.” I was stunned. “I’m not stalking you…” “Enough! Just save it! We don’t have time for this!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the doctor. “She’s Rh-negative. Take whatever you need.” I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. A cold laugh escaped my lips. “You don’t even know me, remember? How would you know I have a rare blood type?” I stared at him, waiting for his answer. 2 Anson ran a hand through his hair, his voice sharp with impatience. “Is this really the time for that? You’re the one who keeps saying we were in love for six years. Is it so strange that my subconscious would remember something that important in a crisis?” But I had just had an abortion. I was still bleeding. How could I possibly donate blood? And even if I could, why should I clean up his mess? “I just had a miscarriage. I can’t donate. Find someone else.” Anson’s face twisted in anger. “Sienna, you go on and on about how much you love me, but when I ask for one favor, you make up a lie like that? A miscarriage? Seriously?” “I can’t believe you’re the kind of person who would let someone die. No wonder I can’t remember ever loving you.” He was right. If he had ever truly loved me, he wouldn’t have faked an illness to cheat on me. He wouldn’t be blind to the deathly pallor of my face. And he certainly wouldn’t be forcing me to donate blood to his lover. A monitor beside us started beeping erratically. The paramedic, not wanting to waste another second, rushed the patient into the emergency room. Anson tried to drag me with them, but I held my ground. In a fit of rage, he slung me over his shoulder. “Sienna, whether you like it or not, you’re doing this. I’ll owe you one. Hell, I’ll marry you on our original wedding day if I have to!” All the fight went out of me. He had saved my life once, long ago. I would consider this my final repayment of that debt. As I watched my blood flow into the bag, my heart turned to ice. The moment the donation was finished, Anson grabbed the bag and sprinted with the nurse toward the operating room. I whispered to his retreating back, “Anson, we’re even now.” A wave of dizziness washed over me as I stepped out of the room. The world went black. When I woke up, the doctor looked like she wanted to scold me, but her anger melted into a sigh. “You need to take care of yourself. After this, you can’t donate blood again for at least six months.” I smiled and said I would. As the doctor left, a young nurse whispered to her, “Why didn’t you tell her we couldn’t reach her emergency contact? What if she thinks…” “She won’t. That girl sees everything with perfect clarity. It’s a shame her heart fell on the wrong man.” I picked up my phone. The doctor had tried calling Anson over a dozen times. He hadn’t answered a single one. Instead, he’d sent a text. 【Sienna, can you stop with the drama? Know your place.】 In that moment, I was grateful he hadn’t picked up. I couldn’t imagine the vile words he would have used to humiliate me. I didn’t reply. I stayed in that hospital bed for a full day before I had the strength to walk. The sun was bright outside, so I went to the hospital’s rooftop garden. There, I ran into Anson’s friends. They were all holding flowers and fruit baskets. For a second, I thought they were for me, and I instinctively turned to leave. But they surrounded me, their eyes raking over my hospital gown with amusement. “Well, well. Heard Anson was at the hospital with his new girlfriend, so you decided to check in and play the victim?” “You donated a little blood. Do you really have to be so dramatic?” “I’ll give you this, though, the makeup is pretty convincing. You look genuinely sick. I always said you were a manipulative bitch, but Anson never believed us…” Anson’s friends had never thought I was good enough for him. If he hadn’t forced them to call me their “sister-in-law,” they never would have accepted me. Now, with his approval, they could finally say what they really thought. Anson himself came up to join them. He saw me and froze, his brow furrowing. “Sienna, are you serious?” “I already agreed to marry you. Did you really have to bribe a doctor to admit you just so you could spy on me? Do you have any idea how suffocating you are?” “Let me be honest. If you act like this after we’re married, we’ll be divorced in a year.” 3 “Don’t trouble yourself. I don’t need you to marry me.” For six years, I had given him his freedom. When he wanted to drink with his friends, I waited patiently, never rushing him. If it was an occasion where I wasn’t welcome, I’d leave the moment he asked and be there to pick him up later, no matter the hour. I took care of him when he was drunk, without complaint. When he wanted to take a trip with his buddies, I booked their tickets and planned their itinerary. He even offered me his phone to check, but I never did. I loved him. And I didn’t want to repeat the tragedy of my own parents’ divorce, caused by my mother’s suffocating need for control. I thought I had managed our relationship perfectly. Before his accident, we were as passionate as newlyweds. But now, I was learning that my love had suffocated him. So was that it? Was that the real reason he faked an illness—for a thrill, for an escape? Our eyes met, and I saw not a flicker of affection for me. The questions I wanted to scream at him died in my throat. He saw the look on my face and his frown deepened. He snatched a bouquet of lilies from his friend and shoved it into my arms. “Alright, stop playing hard to get. You won. Take the flowers and go.” He thought I was the same girl who could be placated with a small gift. He didn’t believe for a second that the woman who had sworn she’d marry no one else would actually walk away. I handed the flowers back to his friend. “These are for his girlfriend. It wouldn’t be right for me to take them.” “I donated the blood willingly. You really don’t have to force yourself to marry me.” A strange panic flickered in Anson’s eyes. Shouldn’t Sienna be overjoyed? Why did she keep insisting he didn’t have to marry her? Was she actually angry? “Sienna, I…” he started, a hint of desperation in his voice. His friends started coughing pointedly, and he quickly changed his tune. “Sienna, I’m a man of my word.” I just smiled. “You should get back to your girlfriend.” “I’m going to go get discharged now.” My calm acceptance seemed to unnerve him even more. He felt that something about me was different today, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. His friends, seeing his hesitation, threw their arms around his shoulders and dragged him away. “Come on, man, stop staring. You’ll make your precious Raina jealous. It’s an act. First the victim, now this. It’s what women do. You’re just too naive.” “Seriously. Look at what you did, getting her into that state. Raina is so understanding, not like some people who use a little blood donation to force a wedding…” Their words, meant for me to hear, didn’t sting as I expected. I just felt a profound coldness, a chill that the bright sun couldn’t touch. I watched them leave and checked myself out of the hospital. While Anson was out, I hired a cleaning service and went back to our home. The housekeeper stared at the brand-new decorations filling the apartment. “Miss, all of this is for a wedding. Are you sure you want to throw it all away?” “Yes. The groom died. It’s not needed anymore.” The woman immediately apologized and offered her condolences. To spare my feelings, she started with our wedding photos and the dozens of albums we’d filled over the years. Within half a day, the home I had so lovingly decorated was stripped of all its joy. A cold house, and a cold me. The housekeeper looked at the ten large bags by the door, filled with the evidence of our love, and shook her head with a sigh. “You have to be strong, dear.” I nodded and smiled. After she left, I did one last sweep of the apartment, making sure no trace of me remained. Then I deleted my fingerprint from the lock, grabbed my suitcase, and walked away. 4 I didn’t go to the apartment Anson had rented for me. Instead, I checked into a private recovery center. When I told the receptionist I’d had a miscarriage, she kindly gave me a room on a quiet floor. After a few peaceful days, I got a notification on my phone. A motion alert from a security camera. I’d forgotten to log out of the account for the apartment. I accidentally opened the live feed. The image that filled my screen was of Anson and his girlfriend, kissing passionately as they stumbled through the door. He pulled back when he saw the state of the apartment, pushing Raina away. “What the hell happened here?” He took out his phone to call me, but Raina snatched it from his hand. “Hey! Don’t you dare think about your ex when you’re with me. Pay attention!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers expertly sliding under his shirt. Anson groaned and slammed her against the wall, kissing her with a hunger I had never seen, not even in our most intimate moments. Within seconds, their clothes were scattered on the floor. “Anson, darling,” she purred, “I just got out of the hospital. You have to be gentle with me today.” Anson, pushed to his limit, begged her, his eyes glazed with lust, “You little witch. I’ve been holding back for so long. Why don’t you take charge?” Raina’s eyes glittered. She ran a finger along his jaw. “That depends on how you behave.” “Who do you love more? Me, or your ex-fiancée?” Anson, breathing heavily, went cold. “Sienna is my fiancée. Who do you think I love more?” “You and I had a deal. This was supposed to be about mutual satisfaction. If your body wasn’t so damn fragile, you wouldn’t be the one on top right now.” Raina immediately slid off him, her lip trembling as tears welled in her eyes. “I nearly died for you, and you say that? Fine! Go find someone else, then!” Anson hated it when women cried. He pulled her into his arms, smothering her with kisses, his apologies lost in her moans of pleasure. I watched, numb, as they moved from the sofa to the master bedroom, then to the bathroom. It hit me again, with the force of a physical blow: Anson did not love me. After his “accident,” I had cried myself to sleep every night, but he never saw my swollen eyes. He just called me dramatic and told me not to use my tears to manipulate him. He’d paraded other women in front of me, saying that even if he had loved me once, a little fun now wasn’t a betrayal. I was so profoundly grateful that I hadn’t kept the child. Given his obsession with Raina’s body, he would have married me and continued to see her. I could never be what she was to him. As the sounds of their passion started up again, I exited the app and deleted the account. The next morning, I was woken by a call from Anson. It was the first time he had called me since the incident. I saw no reason to speak to him and ignored it. When he couldn’t get through, he texted. 【Sienna, what is this? I already agreed to marry you. Why did you throw away all the wedding decorations?】 I didn’t want to be humiliated again. I decided to lie. 【That apartment has bad feng shui for us. I bought a villa by the sea. We moved.】 A few seconds later, I got a friend request. The profile picture was Raina. I declined. She was persistent, sending another request with the message: I have a video of you and Anson. I accepted. She immediately sent me a video of her and Anson. When the two-minute preview was up, she sent a crying emoji. 【Oops, big sister. I sent the wrong one. And I can’t unsend it now. What do I do?】 【I really thought it was you and Anson, it was so steamy! I was wondering how you got so good. How could he possibly be obsessed with my body if you could do all that? Turns out the star was me!】 【Sister, if I were you, I’d spend a little money on some lessons. You know, how to please a man? Maybe then your husband wouldn’t have run off.】 Then, she sent me a ten-thousand-dollar transfer. 【This is for the blood you donated. I prefer to settle things with money, not my husband. You’re invited to our wedding!】 I declined the transfer. 【Consider it my wedding gift. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.】 I blocked her. The next two weeks passed in a quiet blur. My body started to heal. It was time to leave. I booked a flight to go stay with my best friend. Only after I’d paid did I realize the flight was on my original wedding day. On my way to the airport, I stopped at a jewelry store to pick up a gift for her. That’s when I remembered the wedding rings Anson and I had custom-made. I had designed them myself. I should get them back and get rid of them. But when the clerk checked the records, she told me Anson had already picked them up. The pity in her eyes told me everything. As I walked out of the store, I ran right into him. He was shopping with Raina, their fingers intertwined. On their hands were the rings I had designed. He saw me looking and started to stammer, “Sienna, these rings…” “They look good on you.” I turned to leave. He started to follow, but Raina pulled him back.

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1 A notification pinged from the parents’ group chat for my daughter’s elementary school. The teacher, Ms. Albright, had posted a photo and tagged me. “Mr. Green, Sophia was attacked by another student. You need to come to the school immediately!” I clicked open the image. My daughter’s face was a mess of bruises, her clothes torn to shreds. My blood ran cold. “Who did this?” I typed, my fingers trembling with rage. A contact saved as ‘Leo’s Dad’ replied with blatant arrogance. “I told my son to do it.” Then, he posted two more pictures. The first was a wedding photo of him and my wife, Claire. The second was a family portrait: me, my daughter, and Claire. “You shameless leech,” he wrote. “You think you can steal my wife and raise your bastard daughter on my dime? I should have had my son beat the little mongrel to death!” The group chat erupted. A flood of messages poured in, all of them condemning me and my daughter. I floored it, racing toward the school while firing off a text to my company’s legal department. “Draft the divorce papers. Enforce the pre-nup. Claire leaves with nothing.” “And one more thing,” I added. “My daughter was assaulted at her school. Get a team over there now. I want them to pay.” To think she’d use my money to support her lover and his son. She’s got some nerve. When I pulled up to the elementary school, I saw him immediately: Leo’s dad, Ethan, standing by the gate. A circle of other parents from our class surrounded him, fawning over him. “Ethan, you’re so modest! If it weren’t for this, we’d never have known the Apex Group was your family’s company.” “Exactly! I knew there was something different about you. It’s the natural confidence of the truly wealthy!” “We’re here to support you today. We’re decent people. We can’t let some low-life home-wrecker bully you.” “Right! What good can come from a freeloader’s genes? Leo is a true credit to the Apex Group. He’s already doing a public service at his age! A real chip off the old block!” Even Sophia’s teacher, Ms. Albright, was bowing and scraping before him. “Mr. Hayes, I had no idea your wife was the CEO of the Apex Group. I almost blamed Leo for this… You have my deepest apologies. Rest assured, I will handle this to your complete satisfaction.” Ethan puffed out his chest like a proud rooster, basking in the praise. After Claire and I married, she told me she wanted to build a career of her own. I funded a luxury boutique for her, then a beauty salon, a yoga studio… one after another, they all failed. But each failure only fueled her ambition. When the shops went under, she declared she wanted to be an entrepreneur, a CEO. So I handed her the reins to the Apex Group, the smallest of my corporations. I never imagined it would become the source of this man’s pride and the reason for this sycophantic display. The moment the parents saw me, their fawning smiles vanished, replaced by glares of pure disgust, as if I were something vile they’d scraped off their shoe. Ms. Albright marched straight up to me, her face a cold mask. “Mr. Green, the principal has asked me to inform you that, effective immediately, Sophia is expelled.” I stared at her, my voice dangerously low. “My daughter was beaten in your school, and instead of finding her justice, you’re expelling her?” She scoffed. “This is an elite academy. Every child who studies here comes from a family of wealth and influence. To allow an illegitimate child like Sophia to remain would only tarnish our reputation!” My expression darkened. “I suggest you do your homework before you start throwing around words like ‘illegitimate’.” Before she could respond, Ethan stepped in front of me and a fist slammed into my face. “You think a kept man, a home-wrecker, has the right to stand here and talk tough to me?” he snarled. “Did you really think having a bastard daughter would give you a claim on my family’s fortune?” The blow stunned me for a second. The other parents seized the opportunity to hurl insults. “Look at him, all dressed up, but he’s just a parasite. Couldn’t you find a better way to make a living than latching onto a rich woman?” “Some guys look so clean-cut, but deep down, they’re just scum. The second they see a wealthy woman, they’re ready to get on their knees.” “Men like him are a disgrace. His kid deserves even worse!” A crowd had started to gather, drawn by the commotion. People were pointing, whispering. Some pulled out their phones, recording, while others spat in my direction. I took off my jacket—a custom piece worth a small fortune—and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then I faced Ethan. “First, you incite your son to attack my daughter. Now, you assault me. Do you have no fear of the law?” Ethan sneered, his arrogance boundless. “The law? The only one who should be punished here is a low-life leech like you! I’m serving justice. What’s there to be afraid of? You only seduced my wife because you knew she was the CEO of the Apex Group. But I am her husband! I could beat you and your bastard daughter to a pulp, and she wouldn’t even bat an eye!” The other parents chimed in. “If you hadn’t wrecked their marriage, would any of this have happened? You brought this on yourself.” “A kept man like you should know his place. When you see the real husband, you’re supposed to tuck your tail between your legs, not provoke him. You’re lucky all you got was a punch.” “He’s probably addicted to seducing women. Look at him, playing the victim. Who does he think he’s fooling? We’re not as naive as the women he preys on!” Even the onlookers were shouting insults, each crueler than the last. Their support only fueled Ethan’s rage. He pointed a trembling finger at my car parked by the curb. “You animal! Spending my wife’s money without a second thought, huh? A Rolls-Royce? Is a freeloader like you worthy of driving this car?” He spat on the ground. “I despise home-wreckers more than anything in this world. They all deserve to die!” With that, he pulled out a key and dragged it viciously across the glossy black paint, carving a single word into the door. LEECH. My eyes narrowed at the ugly scratch. “You’re going to realize very soon,” I said, my voice ice, “just how ironic that word is.” My calm defiance sent him over the edge. “You bastard! You live off my wife’s money and you still have the gall to act high and mighty? I’m going to make you spit out every penny you’ve scammed from her!” He snatched a loose brick from the edge of the sidewalk and began smashing my car with frenzied rage. The headlights shattered, the windshield spiderwebbed, the hood crumpled under the repeated blows. Inspired, the other parents grabbed whatever they could find—rocks, branches—and joined the demolition. After breaking the windows, they climbed inside, slashing the leather seats and destroying the interior. In moments, my pristine luxury car was a mangled wreck. I watched the mob, my gaze hardening. “I hope you all find this just as satisfying when the bill comes.” No one paid me any mind. Suddenly, one of the parents pried open the trunk. “Hey, look at this! He’s got a bunch of fancy stuff in here!” Ethan strode over and pulled out a rolled-up canvas. “A leech who lives by kissing up to a woman dares to play the part of a refined art collector? How pathetic.” A warning bell went off in my head. “Be careful,” I said, my tone sharp. “Everything in there is worth far more than the car. That painting especially. I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.” I had just come from an auction. Ms. Albright’s message had arrived before I’d even had a chance to drop off my new acquisitions. Ethan sneered. “For a piece of art to be in the hands of a low-life animal like you is a desecration,” he declared. “Trash like you only deserves trash!” And with a savage rip, he tore the ancient canvas in two. Not satisfied, he threw the pieces to the ground and stomped on them with his muddy shoes. An onlooker who knew something about art gasped. “Was that… was that a genuine Rembrandt? I heard one of those went for over a hundred million at auction!” Ethan was unfazed. “A hundred million? So what? It was all bought with my wife’s money! And my wife’s money is my money. What’s wrong with me destroying my own property?” The sheer stupidity of his statement left me speechless. Claire was a spendthrift who bled money. Her failed businesses were one thing, but since taking over the Apex Group, her mismanagement had nearly halved the company’s market value. If she weren’t my wife, I would have fired her long ago. Yet here were these fools, worshipping her as some brilliant CEO. With Ethan setting the example, the other parents descended on the trunk like vultures, tearing, smashing, and destroying everything inside. It’s no use reasoning with fools bent on their own destruction. Right now, my only concern was my daughter. Ignoring the frenzy, I turned and walked toward the school entrance. The principal stepped out, blocking my path. His face was twisted in contempt. “Do you really think a parasite like you is worthy of setting foot in our school?” “I want to see my daughter,” I said, my voice flat and cold. He snorted. “Your daughter has been expelled. A teacher will bring her out shortly.” Just as he spoke, the school gates opened and Sophia was thrown out, her and her backpack tumbling onto the pavement. She landed hard, the air knocked out of her, and burst into terrified sobs. I rushed forward and swept her into my arms, my eyes blazing as I turned back to the principal. “Is this how your school treats its students?” He looked at me with utter disdain. “A freeloader’s bastard child? She’s not a student here. We were simply disposing of a piece of social garbage. Is there a problem?” The other parents applauded. “Well said, Principal! Fair and just, straight to the point!” “Exactly. This is an elite academy, not a place for any riff-raff to sneak into.” One of them turned to me, a cruel smirk on her face. “Does a home-wrecker’s daughter even need an education? Just teach her how to sell her body and seduce men. That’s how you make a living, right? Maybe she’ll be even better at it than you and land an even richer target!” Ethan was practically glowing with triumph. “See that? This is the fate of a kept man. You and your bastard daughter are destined to live at the bottom of society, despised by everyone!” The air was thick with insults, the crowd jeering and taunting. The more they vilified me, the wider Ethan’s smile grew. The principal seized the moment to curry favor. “Mr. Hayes, if my handling of this situation meets your approval, I was hoping you might do us a small favor. As you know, we’re planning to expand, but the surrounding land is owned by the Apex Group. Perhaps you could…” Ethan crossed his arms, looking down his nose at the world. “Don’t worry. I was very pleased with your performance today. I’ll have a word with my wife. She’ll gift the land to the school.” The principal beamed. “Thank you, Mr. Hayes! Thank you!” This set off another wave of sycophancy. “Ethan, my husband has done business with Apex Group before. Perhaps you could give our bids preferential consideration in the future?” “My company is looking to pivot. I would be honored to explore a partnership with Apex.” “Mr. Hayes, please, take this. It’s an unlimited gift card for my family’s department store. A small token, in the hopes that our families can become closer…” They swarmed him, showering him with praise and gifts, some even stuffing credit cards into his pockets. Ethan savored every moment, his arrogance swelling. He swaggered over to me. “You see this?” he gloated. “This is the power of money and influence. A low-life like you will spend his entire life serving women, waiting for them to toss you scraps. Meanwhile, I, her true husband, enjoy a status you can only dream of.” He leaned in closer, his voice a venomous whisper. “You have twenty-four hours. Take your little mongrel and get the hell out of this city. If I ever see you near my wife again, I’ll bury that little bastard of yours alive.” At his words, Sophia burrowed deeper into my arms, trembling. “Daddy,” she whimpered, “I’m scared… It hurts…” Her voice was choked with terror and pain. I looked closer and saw something that made my blood freeze. Peeking from under the torn collar of her shirt were thin, red lines—a dense network of cuts, clearly made by a small blade. The sight of those vicious wounds sent a surge of pure fury through me. My vision went red. I glared at Ethan, my voice shaking with rage. “Did your son do this too?” He glanced over, indifferent. “What’s the big deal? You should be grateful I didn’t have him kill the little mutt.” The moment the words left his mouth, I snapped. My fist connected with his jaw, powered by all the rage and pain coiling in my gut. He staggered back, stunned. Before I could strike again, another parent kicked me from the side. Then they were all on me, a frenzied mob of fists and feet. “You worthless leech! You dare touch Mr. Hayes? You must have a death wish!” “Your little bastard isn’t even dead yet. Are you in such a hurry to join her?” “It’s an honor for that mongrel to be disciplined by young Leo. What good could come from your defective genes? She’d deserve it even if she were beaten to death.” Even the principal landed a vicious kick to my ribs. “Don’t hurt my daddy!” Sophia cried, trying to pull them off me. A chubby little boy—Leo—shoved her hard, sending her sprawling to the ground. The principal saw this and patted Leo on the head with a proud smile. “Excellent work, Leo. Punishing evil and promoting good at such a young age. I’m going to commend you in front of the whole school tomorrow and give you an award!” Leo grinned, his eyes vanishing into slits of flesh. “Hmph. It was my duty. I’ll beat that little bastard every time I see her!” I was pinned to the ground, shaking with helpless fury. “You will all regret this,” I snarled through gritted teeth. They roared with laughter, as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “Did I hear that right? A kept man is making threats?” “Hilarious! This loser actually thinks he’s someone important? Mr. Hayes controls the entire Apex Group. Crushing this guy would be as easy as stepping on an ant.” “He can’t do anything to us, so all he has left is impotent rage. Hahaha!” “How pathetic. If I were him, I’d have thrown myself under a bus by now.” They held me down, their mockery and contempt raining down on me. Onlookers spat and jeered. Ethan, buoyed by his adoring crowd, stepped forward and planted his foot on my face, grinding it into the dirt. “Regret?” he hissed. “I’ve never regretted a thing in my life. I’m waiting. Let’s see how a pathetic loser like you is going to make me regret anything!” Just as the words left his mouth, a fleet of black luxury sedans purred to a stop at the curb, one after another, forming a long, imposing line. Doors opened in perfect unison, and men in sharp, tailored suits stepped out, moving with silent, coordinated purpose…

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The day Victoria brought her new secretary into the passenger seat of her car, a stream of comments materialized before my eyes: 「The ML is finally here! When is the toxic side-character husband gonna get lost? He’s so annoying!」 「I just want to see the sweet romance between the stoic FL and the sunshine ML. Get lost, old man.」 I pretended not to see them. Instead, I played the part of the magnanimous husband, allowing Victoria to set the young man up in one of our villas, arrange for his grandfather’s medical care, and smooth over all his problems. No one knew that Victoria was pregnant. A woman wasn’t a necessity. Compared to the fate of losing my mind, making trouble for the male lead, and being burned alive, the alternative seemed far more appealing: secure an heir who carries my name, while discarding the mother. Wasn’t that a much sweeter deal? 1 Victoria never mentioned she’d replaced her executive secretary. She pulled up to collect me as usual. The passenger-side window slid down. “Mr. Stack, I’m Ms. Vance’s new secretary!” The boy’s thin, rosy lips curved into a sweet, effortless smile. He showed none of the deference or timidity one would expect when addressing a superior. He made no move to get out. Victoria spoke up. “Adrian, Leo gets a bit carsick. You take the back.” This was unprecedented. Victoria was a woman who lived by boundaries. We’d been married for three years. It was an arranged union, yes, forged to serve the greater interests of our families, but we were hardly a couple in name only. Every night, Victoria would hold me as she fell asleep, whispering about how much she’d added to my personal investment fund. She had once thumped her chest and promised she would never, ever put me in an awkward position. For Leo, she broke that promise for the first time. 2 I am not some mild-mannered, spoiled rich kid. The rules should have been established at the first sign of disrespect. But before I could let my expression harden, the comments flared to life again: 「Here comes the drama! The toxic husband is about to tear into the ML, and the poor boy will have to scurry into the back seat.」 「It’s just a passenger seat! Can’t he let the guy who gets carsick have it?」 They chattered on, dissecting the plot. It turned out I was living in a CEO romance novel. The female lead, Victoria, was cold and untouchable. The male lead was Leo. He’d grown up in a remote mountain village and had been a recipient of Victoria’s charity. He’d endured countless hardships just to get close to her. He was resilient, optimistic, and had earned her special attention and support in his career. Bound by the fact that she was married, he could only bury his years of secret admiration deep in his heart. To the outside world, our high-society marriage was a merger of assets, devoid of true love. I was merely the husband in name. In the original story, I would have tormented Leo from our very first meeting, kicking him when he was down and pushing him to the brink. But my cruelty, instead of breaking him, would only strengthen the bond between him and Victoria. I would continue down my path of self-destruction until Victoria, disgusted, would demand a divorce. I’d blame Leo, arranging for thugs to corner him in a warehouse. But a fire would break out. Victoria would rescue him, leaving me to be burned alive. With the “toxic husband” out of the way, the male and female leads would begin their passionate office romance, leaving a trail of love in their wake, much to the delight of the readers. To avenge Leo, Victoria would then plunder my family’s resources, securing an empire for their three future sons. My poor parents, in their old age, would be reduced to selling hot dogs from a cart. How infuriating. This was not my style. A woman, more important than my family’s legacy? Impossible. Utterly impossible. 3 I opened the rear door and slid inside. Leo sat beside Victoria, his voice low and intimate. “Ms. Vance, you like that special porridge I make, right? I’ll bring some for you tomorrow.” The words were laced with provocation. Victoria, oblivious, answered instinctively. “Okay.” A cold snort escaped my lips. No wonder she’d told the housekeeper to stop making breakfast a week ago. I was a night owl. Victoria, convinced it was unhealthy, used to drag me to bed with her, force me on morning runs, and watch me eat breakfast. At first, I found her nagging annoying. But she would wrap her arms around me, fiercely declaring that we were going to be husband and wife for life, and she wouldn’t allow me to be unhealthy or fall behind. If I did, she’d carry me to the finish line herself. Habit is a poison. And dependency, its venom. Once you’re infected, it’s damn hard to quit. 4 Victoria was perceptive. She caught my dark expression in the rearview mirror and offered an explanation. “Work has been hectic lately. I didn’t want to wake you, so I left early.” Leo chimed in, “Ms. Vance comes in at the crack of dawn just to personally train me. But I’m so slow… she has to explain things over and over again.” She glanced at him, a warmth in her eyes she didn’t even seem to notice herself. But I remembered Victoria’s former secretary—an Ivy League graduate, fluent in four languages, a brilliant and resourceful professional. The slightest mistake from him would earn a merciless scolding. The comparison was stark. Perhaps my silence was too cold. Victoria realized I was truly angry. She pulled the car over and turned to Leo. “Get out and take a taxi.” Then, ignoring my protests, she pulled me into the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt for me. Leo stood on the rain-slicked curb, looking utterly dejected. A lost puppy abandoned in the storm. The comments exploded. 「No, FL! Don’t do it! What if something happens to the ML taking a taxi by himself?」 「This is all the toxic husband’s fault with his constant glaring! He’s ruining the romantic tension!」 But there were dissenting voices. 「I don’t get it. They’re still married! Are you guys all on Team Home-wrecker, trying to force out the original wife… I mean, husband?」 「What do you know? There’s no real love in these arranged marriages. The one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.」 5 I was starting to understand. The commenters were split into two camps. One side was all about the plot, desperate for the lead couple’s sweet interactions. The other side stood on moral ground, but still hoped I would act rationally and not create a mess that couldn’t be cleaned up. In the kitchen, Victoria was personally making me chicken soup. My feelings were complicated. To be fair, before Leo’s arrival, she had been a perfect wife. Beautiful, smart, capable. She would voluntarily give my family’s company preferential treatment on projects, we discussed everything, and we were perfectly compatible in bed. We were leagues better than the other society couples who lived separate lives. My mother always said I’d hit the jackpot with a wife who knew how to care for a man. A spoonful of fragrant soup was held to my lips. “Darling, you were jealous today. It made me a little happy.” She sat beside me, leaning into my arms as she always did. I shifted away, avoiding her intimate touch. Victoria froze. “Adrian? What’s wrong?” It was the first time I had ever refused her touch. “Nothing. I’m just tired.” “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I forgot for a moment how much you hate anyone else sitting in my passenger seat. It won’t happen again.” Victoria had always been scrupulous, brushing off any man who tried to get close. She used to complain that I was too trusting, even offering me her phone to check. Now, her explanation felt like a cover-up. “He and I are just colleagues. Nothing more.” “Mm,” I grunted. A sharp pang hit my chest. As much as I hated to admit it, I had fallen in love with Victoria. But the comments said her true love wasn’t me. They were all just waiting for me to lose control. Why should I give them the satisfaction? 6 Late that night, I feigned sleep. I heard Victoria answer a call, her voice hushed. Leo’s tearful voice drifted from the phone. “Ms. Vance… I’m still walking home… some bad men are following me.” Pathetic. His apartment was in Northwood, a twelve-mile walk. I don’t know what he said next, but Victoria’s voice grew tense. “Don’t be afraid. I’m coming to get you right now.” She grabbed her coat and rushed to the garage. I didn’t move. According to the comments, in the original plot, I would have woken up, furious at being disturbed, and tried to stop her from leaving. Leo would have been mugged by a group of drunkards, and nearly seriously hurt. Victoria, consumed by guilt, would have blamed me. As compensation, she would have bought a sapphire brooch I wanted and given it to Leo. In a fit of rage, I would have shoved her, causing her to miscarry the child she didn’t even know she was carrying. 7 After a full night’s sleep, I decided to pick up my test results from last week. At the hospital, Dr. Evans smiled. “Congratulations, Mr. Stack. Your wife is pregnant. Shall I notify Ms. Vance?” I had forgotten. I was so used to coming to the hospital owned by Victoria’s family. “No, please. Keep this strictly confidential.” Dr. Evans, assuming I was planning a surprise, readily agreed. I felt a little lost. Victoria had wanted a child for so long. But my unhealthy lifestyle had left me with some minor health issues. She had personally supervised my diet and exercise for over two years before we stopped using protection. As I wandered in a daze, I saw them. Victoria and Leo. They were in a hospital room, standing beside a bed where Leo’s grandfather lay. The comments were back. 「Grandpa was so good to the ML. FL, you have to pay the medical bills and get the best international specialist for him!」 「Don’t worry, the FL was raised by her own grandpa. She’ll definitely have a soft spot for him.」 8 The old man, Mr. Henderson, opened his eyes. He took his grandson’s hand and placed it in Victoria’s. “You must be Leo’s girlfriend, right? My grandson likes you so much. He has your picture by his bed.” “Grandpa!” Leo flushed, embarrassed. Victoria started to explain, but when she saw his pleading eyes, her lips tightened, and she said nothing. The comments cheered as if it were New Year’s Eve. 「So sweet! The FL sees how much the ML cares for her!」 「Look at them avoiding each other’s eyes! Even Grandpa with his bad eyesight can see the sparks!」 「Are you guys crazy? She’s a married woman!」 「If you don’t like it, get lost. We’re here for the ship.」 Strangely, as long as I wasn’t in the same frame as the main characters, the comments seemed unaware of my existence. When Victoria left the room, I stepped back around a corner. Leo tugged at the sleeve of her designer blazer, his eyes welling with tears. “Ms. Vance, thank you for saving me last night. And for bringing my grandpa to the hospital.” “Stop crying,” she said softly. “I’ll buy you a car, then you won’t have to worry about taxi fares.” Overcome with emotion, he pulled her into a hug. She held him, murmuring comforting words. If I wasn’t the man being cheated on, I might have found it touching. I took a deep breath. I walked a short distance away and dialed her number. She whispered something to Leo before answering. “Darling, I had to go back to the office for an emergency last night. Are you up? I’ll have the housekeeper make you breakfast.” “Victoria,” I said quietly, “turn around. I’m right behind you.” 9 Victoria’s tall, composed figure seemed to turn to ice. I could feel her stiffness even from a distance. The comments, hearing my voice, erupted. 「Crap, how did the toxic husband get here? Don’t let him show his face in front of Grandpa! He’ll give the old man a heart attack!」 「Quick, camera on the toxic husband! I want to see his rage-face and how the FL is going to protect her man!」 They kept calling me the “toxic husband,” as if I’d committed some heinous crime. Victoria turned around slowly, her voice trembling, terrified I had overheard her tacitly accepting the role of Leo’s girlfriend. “Adrian, I…” But she didn’t see me. The comments breathed a collective sigh of relief. 「See? No way the toxic husband would be here. This is a crucial scene where the future granddaughter-in-law makes a good impression. Thanks to Grandpa, we get all the sweet plot points later.」 「That husband is a liar! He tricked the FL and almost tricked us!」 A few disagreed. 「Why are you guys as disgusting as the main characters? The FL has a husband! Why didn’t she clarify? Emotional cheating is still cheating.」 「Brainless plot-bunnies. You attack the husband just so you can ship your CP. So far, I haven’t seen the ‘original spouse’ do anything to hurt the ML. But the ML is being manipulative and shady. If you were the husband, could you tolerate this?」 I felt a small sense of vindication. Some viewers had clear eyes. Using the angle of the building to my advantage, I stayed hidden and watched her. “You sound guilty,” I said into the phone. “Been up to no good?” Her clenched fist relaxed slightly. “Of course not. I was just afraid you’d worry when you saw I wasn’t home.” I teased her deliberately. “Disappeared at the crack of dawn. Don’t tell me you rushed to the office to eat that porridge your male secretary makes.” “Adrian, don’t be silly. I’m out shopping with Cassy.” “Don’t lie to me. Or I’ll call Cassy to confirm.” “I’m not lying! Call her if you don’t believe me.” “Alright, alright. When have I ever doubted you? Get back to what you’re doing.” “Okay! Remember to eat breakfast. I’ll worry if you’re hungry.” A woman’s words can be pure deception. It had never been clearer. After hanging up, I saw her immediately dial another number. Cassy was her best friend; providing an alibi would be no problem. But once you tell the first lie, you have to keep telling more to cover it up.

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The day my mom chased me down the street with a broom, making me duck and weave like a stray dog, my billionaire biological parents showed up. They told me I’d suffered all these years. As I watched the translucent comments float past my eyes: 【Suffered? She beat a gang of thugs into calling her ‘Big Sis’ just yesterday!】 I felt nothing. In fact, I was tempted to ask if they needed a resident enforcer. That is, until the comments flooded my vision: 【The fake heiress is being cornered and bullied in the school bathroom by the campus kingpin! She’s crying so hard she can barely breathe!】 I yanked the car door open. “Let’s go. We’re going home now.” It wasn’t that I wanted a family reunion. It was that my fists were starting to itch. 1 The broom whistled past the back of my head as my mom’s roar shook the cheap plaster of the surrounding buildings. “You little brat! If I don’t skin you alive today, I’ll take your last name!” I dodged with practiced ease. The air was filled with the jeers of our neighbors and the crunch of cheap snacks. Just then, a sleek black car, its sharp lines screaming a price tag that could buy our entire block, glided to a silent stop at the end of the alley. It was like a panther stalking into the heart of the slums. The doors opened, and a man and a woman stepped out. He was in a tailored suit, radiating a quiet authority. She was draped in jewels, her eyes red-rimmed. Their gazes locked onto me with an unnerving precision, filled with a strange mix of excitement and… guilt? My mom froze, broom still in hand. She looked at the car, then at the couple, her own formidable presence shrinking by half. “You damn girl,” she muttered under her breath, “what kind of trouble did you get into now? Who are these people?” I ignored her, squinting at the couple. I didn’t recognize them, but there was a strange… familiarity? The wealthy woman rushed forward, grabbing my dirt-stained hand as tears welled up instantly. “My child… my poor, long-lost child…” I yanked my hand back, my face a blank mask. Nice acting, I thought. And in that exact moment, a few lines of semi-transparent text drifted past my eyes like ghosts: 【Poor?? She single-handedly took down three guys trying to collect protection money last week!】 【Old Man Hemlock’s psycho goose now flattens itself against the wall when it sees her coming!】 【The only ones suffering on this block are the local delinquents!】 Me: “…” Right. So I had an invisible live commentary crew. The man in the suit, my biological father, Richard Hawthorne, stepped forward, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Zoe, we’re your real parents. There was a mix-up at the hospital seventeen years ago. We’ve come to take you home.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over our crumbling tenement and the broom in my mom’s hand, before adding, “There’s… another daughter at home. Your sister. She’s frail and timid, and we thought it best she stay with us. Don’t worry, we’ll treat you both equally.” The comments exploded: 【Whoa! Here comes the classic trope! The real heiress has arrived, clear the way!】 【Catfight with the fake heiress! Hair-pulling! Let’s go, I live for this!】 【What catfight? You guys don’t know? The fake heiress has a stutter. She’s too scared to even talk back when she’s bullied.】 A stutter? A timid crybaby? I wasn’t afraid of anything, and my fists were solid as rocks, but I couldn’t stand two things: One, people who stuttered and couldn’t get a damn word out. Two, people who burst into tears at the drop of a hat. Both scenarios made me antsy, irritable, and my knuckles ache. “No thanks.” I turned on my heel and headed for our crooked front door. “It’s fine here. I’m free. You can go back to wherever you came from.” 【Aww, too bad. If the MC goes back, she’ll end up at the same school as the fake heiress, Blackwood Prep.】 【I heard the fake heiress gets bullied all the time because of her stutter. The rich kids there love to make fun of her.】 【Didn’t they lock her in a bathroom last time? Cried her eyes out, and no one helped.】 【Someone even made her kneel and bark like a dog…】 A stutter? Cornered in a bathroom? Kneel and bark like a dog? My eyelid twitched violently. My capacity for empathy was basically zero, but I had two fatal flaws: I couldn’t stand watching people who couldn’t fight, and I couldn’t stand watching people who did fight—the wrong way. The first made me impatient, the second made my hands itch. Especially since every thug on my block already called me “Big Sis.” There was no challenge left. “Let’s go.” I spun around, yanked open the door of the luxury car, and slid inside. “Now. Immediately.” Richard and Eleanor Hawthorne were clearly not expecting such a rapid change of heart. They stared for a second, then their faces lit up with joy. Richard quickly retrieved a briefcase from the trunk and tried to shove it into my adoptive parents’ hands. There was no polite back-and-forth. I just rolled down the window. “Any more delays and I’m getting out.” My adoptive parents instantly let go of the case. As the car pulled away from the slums, Richard and Eleanor tried to make awkward small talk. “Zoe, what do you like to do? Movies? Shopping?” Eleanor asked tentatively. “Fighting,” I said, closing my eyes. The car fell silent. The comments were a stream of【HAHAHAHA】. 2 The car entered a neighborhood of unsettling quiet, pulling up before a mansion that looked like a European castle. A butler bowed as we entered. Stepping into a grand hall with floors so polished they reflected our images, the crystal chandelier nearly blinded me. Before I could fully survey my “new map,” a soft sobbing sound drifted from the staircase. I looked up. A girl in a white dress, her eyes swollen like ripe peaches, stood trembling on the landing. She looked like a terrified fawn. The sight of us made her flinch, and the tears fell even faster. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but only broken, airy sounds came out. “I’m… I’m s-s-sorry… I… I…” It was her. The fake heiress from the comments, Lila Hawthorne. Her pathetic, stammering state was like a direct assault on my last nerve. The simmering frustration I’d accumulated from sheer boredom, mixed with my natural revulsion for bullying, instantly ignited. I strode over to her, my brows furrowed in pure impatience. “Who did it?” She flinched back, stumbling a step, fat tears splattering on the marble floor as she broke down completely. Richard and Eleanor were clueless. “Zoe, who did what?” I pointed at Lila, who was on the verge of hyperventilating. “Her! At school! Who bullied her into this state? Give me a name!” Lila’s head snapped up. She stared at me through her tears, her expression one of utter shock. The comments went insane: 【DAMN, sis is on FIRE!】 【Straight to the point! I love it!】 【Ask her! Quick, tell her it was that bastard Marcus!】 Pinned by my glare, Lila shrank back, sobbing out a broken sentence. “It… it was M-Marcus… Th-they… b-bathroom…” “Enough. Your stuttering is giving me a headache,” I cut her off, turning to Richard. “Get me transferred. Now. To her school.” Richard and Eleanor exchanged a look, as if they wanted to object. My eyes hardened. “Or I can just tear this living room apart right now. Your call.” They believed me. 3 The next day, I stood at the gates of Blackwood Prep—an academy reeking of money and hypocrisy. I wore an ill-fitting, brand-new uniform, my backpack completely empty. The comments dutifully served as my GPS and spoiler source: 【Warning! High-energy zone ahead! Grade 11, Class 3, home base of campus kingpin Marcus Thorne and his cronies!】 【The fake heiress is in Class 2 next door. She’s currently being harassed by Marcus’s lackeys.】 【Go get ’em, Big Sis! For justice (and the sheer thrill of the beatdown)!】 I walked straight to the back door of Class 3. Inside, a guy with a few obnoxious blond streaks in his hair had his foot propped on a chair, flicking rubber bands at the back of a smaller boy’s head, much to the amusement of his posse. This had to be Marcus. I knocked on the open doorframe, a dull, heavy sound. The classroom fell silent. All eyes turned to the new face. Marcus turned his head lazily, looking me up and down with a contemptuous smirk. “Newbie? What do you want?” I ignored him, my gaze fixed first on the boy who was being pelted with rubber bands, then sweeping over the obvious lackeys. “You lot,” my voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the silence, “yesterday, who was involved in cornering a girl in the bathroom and making her kneel and bark like a dog?” The smirk on Marcus’s face froze, then darkened. “Who the hell are you? None of your business.” A short, stout crony next to him snickered. “Where’d this hick come from, trying to stick up for that little stutterer?” I nodded, confirming my targets. Good. The next second, before anyone could react, I lunged forward. I grabbed the stout crony by his collar and, to the gasps of the entire class, single-handedly slammed his nearly 180-pound body against the wall. With a sickening thud, the whole room seemed to vibrate. The crony didn’t even grunt. He just slid down the wall in a boneless heap, completely stunned. I released him, cracked my knuckles, and turned to face the now-pale Marcus and the other participants, my eyes like chips of ice. “So, it was you.” The classroom was dead silent. Marcus shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His face was a mask of fury and shock. “You’re fucking dead!” A corner of my mouth lifted, a smile devoid of warmth, filled only with a cold, almost cruel excitement. “No. You are.” Before the words had even faded, I was moving, an arrow released from a bow. Marcus’s fist came at me, whistling through the air. He had the posture of someone who’d taken a few flashy taekwondo classes. Pathetic. Too slow. Too many openings. I didn’t even bother to dodge. Just as his knuckles were about to connect with my nose, my right hand shot out like lightning, clamping onto his wrist. With a sharp twist and a pull— Crack. A soft, sickening crunch was followed by a pig-like squeal from Marcus. I used his own momentum to pull him off balance, sending him stumbling forward. I gave him no time to recover. My left knee shot up— “Urk—!” The knee strike landed squarely in his stomach. His scream died in his throat, replaced by a painful, retching gasp. His face turned a deep shade of purple as tears and snot streamed uncontrollably. I let go of his wrist and, as his body went limp, I grabbed his stupid blond hair and slammed his head down. THWACK! His face met the hard terrazzo floor with a sound that made teeth ache. The world went quiet. All that remained was the sound of Marcus, curled on the floor, groaning in agony, blood pouring from his nose to form a sickening red puddle. The entire exchange took less than five seconds. 4 The classroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The previously arrogant cronies were frozen like statues, their faces ashen, legs trembling. They stared at me not as a person, but as some man-eating monster. The comments had gone completely berserk, a dense wall of text obscuring my vision: 【HOLY S***! A total takedown! That was a genuine instant kill!】 【Is that level of skill even real? Street fighter vs. rich-boy martial arts! Total ownage!】 【I heard that face-plant! OUCH!】 【BIG SIS IS A GODDESS! (Voice crack)】 【Did the rest of them wet their pants? LOL!】 【I hereby declare myself a loyal simp for Big Sis!】 【A new queen is born! The reign of Blackwood Prep is about to change!】 I shook out my wrist, as if I’d just swatted a fly. My gaze swept over the petrified lackeys. My voice was flat, but it carried an undeniable weight. “You guys. You can either go squat in the corner yourselves, or I can help you.” They flinched as if zapped by electricity, then scrambled and stumbled to the corner of the room, hands over their heads, squatting in a perfectly aligned row. More disciplined than a military drill. I paid them no more mind. Bending down, I grabbed Marcus by the back of his collar and started dragging him out of the classroom like a sack of garbage. He struggled feebly, muffled whimpers escaping his lips, but he couldn’t budge me an inch. The hallway was already packed with students drawn by the commotion. They watched in horror as I dragged their former “kingpin” past them. A wave of whispers rose and fell, dying instantly whenever my gaze passed over them. I was the focal point of a hundred shocked, fearful, and curious stares. I ignored them all, dragging Marcus straight towards—the girls’ bathroom. Yes, the very same one where they’d tormented Lila yesterday. CRASH! I kicked the door open. A few girls inside screamed and fled. I dragged Marcus to the last stall, the “crime scene” according to the comments, and let him go. He collapsed in a heap, a bruised, bloody, pathetic mess. I looked down at him, my voice as cold as the damp floor. “Yesterday. Right here. You made her kneel?” Marcus stared up at me in terror, his lips trembling, unable to speak. “Bark like a dog?” I asked again, my tone flat, chilling him to the bone. He shook his head violently, a sob in his voice. “I… I was wrong… Big Sis… please… let me go…” “Kneel,” I commanded. It was almost a reflex. Wincing in pain, Marcus scrambled to his knees on the cold, wet tiles, his body shaking uncontrollably. “Bark,” I said. Marcus’s face was completely drained of color, a mask of humiliation and terror. But under my unblinking stare, he squeezed his eyes shut and forced out a few weak, distorted sounds from his throat. “Woof… woof…” “Didn’t you have breakfast?” I scowled. “Louder! Where’s all that energy you had yesterday?” He flinched. Tears of shame mixed with the blood running down his face as he finally shouted, his voice cracking, “WOOF! WOOF WOOF!” The sound echoed in the empty bathroom, grotesquely comical and tragic. 5 The students crowded in the hallway gasped, but no one dared come closer. 【An eye for an eye! So satisfying!】 【Public humiliation for the kingpin! I could watch this on loop for a year!】 【A little cruel, but… damn, she’s good!】 【You can’t go easy on scum like that!】 Just then, a timid, tear-choked voice came from the bathroom entrance. “S-sister…” I turned. Lila was standing there, pale as a ghost, her hands gripping the doorframe. She was staring at the kneeling, barking Marcus, her eyes wide with disbelief and… a flicker of vindication? But mostly, she was afraid. She looked at me as if I were something far more terrifying than him. “What is it?” I asked, my tone still cool. She sniffled, her voice barely a whisper. “The… the teachers… from the D-Dean’s office… they’re… they’re coming… a lot of them…” I glanced in the direction she indicated. Down the hall, a group of stern-faced administrators in suits, flanked by security guards, was marching towards us. Ah, the cavalry had arrived. My gaze returned to Marcus, who, upon hearing the teachers were coming, had a renewed spark of hope in his eyes. I crouched down, leaning in close, and said in a voice only he could hear, “Today was just the appetizer. From now on, in this school, Lila Hawthorne is under my protection.” I patted his swollen cheek, not gently. “You, or any of your little friends, ever touch a single hair on her head, or make her shed a single tear…” I paused, letting a humorless smile spread across my face. “I’ll break one of your legs. I keep my promises.” The hope in Marcus’s eyes died, replaced by pure, abject terror. He started shaking even harder. I stood up, ignoring the approaching shouts and commotion. I straightened the non-existent wrinkles on my uniform and walked calmly towards the door. Passing by Lila, I paused, frowning at her still-frightened expression. “What are you scared of?” I said. “Let’s go.” Then, under the stunned gazes of the entire student body and the rapidly approaching Dean of Students, I took the trembling Lila’s hand and walked straight towards the posse of adults who had come to “dispense justice.”

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My name is Kevin Williams. Net worth in the billions. A shark who clawed his way up from nothing. I have everything a man could want, except a son I can be proud of. My son, Harry, is a world-class disappointment. At twenty, his only real skill is incinerating money. His social media feed is a highlight reel of round-the-world trips and luxury shopping sprees. His friends are a curated collection of trust-fund kids, his girlfriends a rotating cast of Instagram models and wannabe socialites. I’ve warned him, but he believes my empire is invincible. Fine. If he won’t learn to appreciate the view from the top, I’ll personally blast his gilded cage out from under him. I orchestrated a flawless, fictitious “bankruptcy,” moving us from our mansion overlooking the city to a tiny, rundown apartment for fifteen hundred a month. I cut off his black cards and disbanded his entourage. I told him, “From now on, if you want to eat, you earn it.” I wanted to see what would be left of his friendships, his so-called love life, when the money was gone. More than that, I wanted to see who my son really was once I stripped away the designer labels. This is a rite of passage. A gift from a father to his precious son. 1 Beep. The cold, electronic sound of rejection. Harry pulled the black card from the reader and slid it back in. Beep. The same denial. He scowled, slapping the card down on the Patek Philippe display case. The marble countertop chimed with a sharp crack. “Is your machine broken?” His voice was low, but laced with his usual, effortless entitlement. The sales associate’s perfect smile twitched for half a second before she dipped her head even lower. “Mr. Williams, perhaps… you’d like to try a different card?” Impatiently, Harry yanked another card from his wallet. Beep. Identical. That’s when my call came through. “Don’t bother,” I said, leaning back against the leather seats of the town car, watching the city blur past my window. “I’ve frozen every card to your name.” Silence on the other end. I could picture his expression perfectly: that incredulous, offended “Are you kidding me?” look he got whenever his universe was questioned. “Kevin, what the hell is this?” He only ever used my first name when he was incandescent with rage. “It’s exactly what it sounds like,” I said. “We’re bankrupt.” “Ha.” He laughed as if it were the funniest joke he’d heard all year. “You acquired Stellar Entertainment last month, and now you’re telling me you’re broke? Is this another one of your goddamn ‘stress tests’? Because I don’t have time for these stupid games!” “You have two options,” I cut him off. “One, walk out of that store right now and meet me in the company’s underground garage. Two, stay there and wait for security to escort you out. Oh, and by the way, I canceled the order for your new Aston Martin.” He slammed the phone down. I smiled faintly. “To the office, Frank.” Half an hour later, Harry stormed into my office, his face a thundercloud. The custom Hermès blazer he was wearing was wrinkled, no doubt from a crowded subway ride. His first time, I imagined. “Happy now?” He threw the jacket onto my desk, its contents spilling across the polished wood. Cigarettes, a lighter, and a clattering set of keys, still adorned with a tacky Louis Vuitton keychain his latest girlfriend had given him. I ignored his tantrum and pointed to the chair opposite me. “Sit.” “I’m not sitting! You owe me an explanation, right now! Why cut off my cards? What do you mean, bankrupt? Do you have any idea how humiliated I was in front of my friends?” “Humiliation?” I looked up from a stack of files, my gaze level. “Starting today, that’s the cheapest thing you’ll own.” I slid a document across the desk toward him. The title read: Asset Liquidation and Debt Restructuring Proposal. The numbers inside were staggering, each one followed by a long tail of zeros. All of them were a stark, unforgiving red. “Don’t understand?” I summarized for him. “It means the mansion is gone. The cars are gone. The contents of your walk-in closet—the shoes, the watches, the cufflinks—will be seized by the court tomorrow. The place we’re living in, legally speaking, isn’t even ours anymore.” The color drained from Harry’s face, inch by inch. His lips trembled, but no words came out. He was finally realizing this wasn’t a game. “So… what happens now? Where are we going to live?” His voice was a strained whisper. “I’ve rented a place for us.” “A villa? What about my stuff? My shoes…” “A one-bedroom, five-hundred-square-foot walk-up,” I said flatly. He looked like he’d been struck by lightning. “You’re insane! Kevin, you’ve lost your mind! I’m not living there! I’d rather die!” he roared. “That’s an option,” I nodded. “The door is right there. You can leave now. Go find your ‘friends.’ Go find that girlfriend who swore she loved you to death. See which one of them will take you in.” My words stopped him cold. His eyes welled up, red-rimmed and furious. “How could you do this to me? I’m your son!” “It’s because I’m your father that I’m doing this. Anyone else would just sit back and watch you burn.” I stood, picking up a pre-packed suitcase from beside my desk. “Let’s go, son. Time for a little lesson in what the real world tastes like.” I knew this was just the beginning. The start of a long, brutal war. I was the one who put him on that pedestal. Now, it had to be me who kicked it out from under him. Because until he had a bone-shattering fall, he would never learn how to stand on his own two feet. 2 The building was ironically named “The Elysian Fields Apartments.” The hallways were cluttered with junk, the paint was peeling off the walls in cancerous patches, and the air hung thick with the stench of damp rot and the greasy ghosts of a dozen different dinners. Harry stood at the entrance, refusing to take another step inside. “I’m not staying here! Do people actually live like this? It’s disgusting!” he choked out, pressing a hand over his nose. I dragged our two oversized suitcases behind me, glancing back at him without an ounce of sympathy. “It’s either this or a cardboard box under the freeway. Your choice.” “I can get a hotel! I have money!” he insisted, his pride still flickering. “What money?” I asked. “I… I’ll just sell a pair of my shoes!” “Go ahead,” I said, pushing one of the suitcases toward him. “Grab a cab. Sell your shoes, book a suite. Just do me a favor and text me when you’re settled.” Without another word, I turned and started hauling my own luggage up the stairs. There was no elevator. I grunted my way up five flights. When I finally unlocked the door, a wave of stale, dusty air hit me in the face. The apartment was tiny. You could see the whole layout from the doorway. A small living area opened onto a grimy balcony, and one closed door presumably led to the bedroom. The furniture was ancient, the kind you see in thrift stores, with a faded, floral sofa that had been washed into oblivion. I dropped my suitcase in the living room and collapsed onto the lumpy couch, exhausted. About ten minutes later, I heard a noise at the door. Harry stood there, dragging his suitcase, his eyes red and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He’d figured it out. His so-called brothers, when he’d called, were suddenly all “out of the country” or had “family staying over.” As for his girlfriend, her phone went straight to voicemail. He had nowhere else to go. “Put your suitcase in there and unpack,” I said, gesturing toward the bedroom. He didn’t move, just stood in the entryway, his eyes scanning the cramped, alien space. “Where’s the bathroom?” he finally asked. “Over there.” He walked over and pushed the door open. A second later, a shriek echoed through the quiet old building. “Agh! What the hell is that? Is that a… a hole in the ground?!” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “It’s called a squat toilet, Your Highness. You’ll get used to it.” He didn’t eat that night. He locked himself in the bedroom, and I didn’t bother him. I unpacked our things. My suitcase held a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. His was a treasure trove of shoes, watches, designer skincare, and colognes. The cheapest bottle of face cream in his bag cost more than a month’s rent here. I piled it all in a corner on a small table I found. In the middle of the night, a sound from the living room woke me. I crept out quietly and saw Harry’s silhouette in the faint glow of the refrigerator light, rummaging through its empty shelves. All he found were the two bottles of water I’d bought that afternoon. “Hungry?” I asked. He jumped, dropping a water bottle with a clatter. “I… I was thirsty,” he mumbled. “If you’re hungry, just say so.” I pulled two hundred-dollar bills from my wallet. “There’s a 24-hour convenience store at the end of the block. Go get yourself something to eat.” He stared at the cash in my hand, hesitating. “What, you only do digital payments?” I waved the bills. He finally shuffled over and took the money. He was gone for a long time. When he returned, he was carrying a small plastic bag. Inside was a cup of instant ramen, a sausage stick, and a hard-boiled egg. He sat at the rickety dining table, fumbling with the ramen lid before pouring hot water from the kettle. He didn’t say a word the entire time. Soon, the cheap, salty aroma of artificial chicken filled the tiny apartment. He slurped the noodles down with a desperate speed. Like a starving man. When he finished, he pushed the empty cup aside and started to head back to his room. “Hold it,” I said. He turned. “Clean your own mess. And take out the trash,” I said, pointing to the overflowing bin by the door. His mouth opened as if to protest, but he clamped it shut. He picked up the ramen cup, carried it to the cramped kitchen, and turned on the faucet. The sound of splashing water felt deafening in the silence. I watched his back. This was the first time in his twenty years of life that he had ever washed a dish. Even if it was just a disposable noodle cup. I knew that changing him would be like trying to straighten a tree that had grown crooked for two decades. It was going to hurt. But it had to be done. 3 Harry stayed quiet for a couple of days. Maybe the hunger had scared him, or maybe the shock of our new reality was still sinking in. He spent most of his time holed up in his room, glued to his phone. I knew what he was doing. He was messaging his “crew.” Their group chat used to blow up with hundreds of messages a day—debating the latest supercars, which golf course had the best greens, or planning their next private island party. Now, the chat was a ghost town. When someone did post, it was about topics he couldn’t even pretend to engage with anymore. Someone’s family firm had just secured a new round of funding. Someone else’s girlfriend had just gifted him a new sports car. No one tagged him. No one asked for his opinion. It was like he had been muted, rendered invisible. That afternoon, he emerged from his room, his eyes bloodshot. “I’m going out,” he announced. “Where?” “Julian invited me for coffee.” Julian Rider. One of his closest friends. His father was a real estate mogul. I nodded. “You have money?” Harry bit his lip and pulled a few crumpled bills from his Hermès wallet. It was the change from his late-night ramen run. “Is that enough?” I asked. “…He’s treating,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. I didn’t say another word. Some lessons can only be learned when they’re slapped across your face. He changed his clothes, picking out the most low-key outfit from his suitcase—still a brand most people couldn’t afford—and tried to fix his hair, looking like a soldier heading into a battle he already knew he would lose. He was gone for about two hours. When he returned, his hair was a mess and his face was dark with a terrifying mixture of rage and despair. He was holding a cake box. The moment he stepped inside, he hurled the box at the floor. Cream and fruit splattered across the grimy linoleum. “They’re all bastards! Liars!” he screamed, sinking to the ground and burying his head in his hands. I handed him a paper towel and waited. When his sobs subsided into ragged breaths, he told me what happened, his voice dripping with venom. He’d arrived at the café to find Julian and a few other guys already there, a spread of expensive pastries on the table. The moment he sat down, he could feel their eyes on him, their gazes a mix of pity and poorly concealed glee. They started probing, casually asking about his family’s situation. Harry, still clinging to a sliver of hope, tried to be vague, saying the company was just facing some “temporary difficulties.” Julian had smirked. “Harry, man, you can drop the act. The whole town is talking about it. Your dad’s company is drowning in debt. They even lost the mansion.” Another guy chimed in. “Yeah, we’re just worried about you. What are you going to do now? You can’t keep living in that dump, can you?” “I heard the place you’re at doesn’t even have a proper closet. What are you doing with all your sneakers?” Their words were framed as concern, but the mockery in their tones was unmistakable. Harry’s face burned with shame. The final blow came from Julian. He pulled out his phone, played a video, and pushed it in front of Harry. “Oh, by the way, check out the new Pagani Isabella got me. Pretty sick, right? She said yes last week.” The video showed Isabella, Harry’s girlfriend who hadn’t answered his calls for days, beaming as Julian knelt before her, a massive diamond ring on her finger. Fireworks exploded in the background. The cheers of their “friends” were deafening. Harry said his mind went blank. All he remembered was lunging across the table, trying to punch Julian in his smug face. But the others held him back. Julian looked at him, his expression one of pure pity. “Harry, grow up. Did you really think Isabella loved you? She loved your money. Now that it’s gone, what do you have left? Don’t make a scene. It’s pathetic.” As a final act of charity, Julian had the waiter box up the most expensive slice of cake on the table and handed it to him. “Here. My treat. You probably won’t be able to afford places like this anymore.” And that was the story of the cake. A slice of pure, unadulterated humiliation. Harry’s face was flushed with fury. “Why… Why would he do that to me? I thought he was my best friend! For his birthday, I got him a limited-edition Rolex! How could he…” “Because you used money to buy your friends,” I said calmly, cleaning the mess off the floor. “So when the money disappeared, so did they.” I tossed the last of the soiled napkins into the trash. “Get a hold of yourself. Rage won’t solve anything. Are you hungry? I’ll make you some noodles.” He just stared at me, his chest still heaving. “Remember this feeling,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Remember what it feels like to be stepped on, to feel so humiliated you can barely breathe. One day, you’re going to use your own two hands to pick up every piece of dignity you lost today.” 4 Harry was like a puppet with its strings cut, lifeless for days. He stopped talking about his friends, stopped checking his social media. He just stared into space. But I knew it wasn’t enough. The final straw, the one that would break him completely, hadn’t fallen yet. That night, there was a knock on the door. Harry answered it, probably thinking it was the landlord chasing the utility bill. Standing in the doorway was Isabella. His “ex-girlfriend.” She was dressed in a Chanel suit, her makeup perfect, holding a ridiculously large bouquet of red roses. She looked completely out of place in our crumbling hallway. When she saw Harry, she froze. The man in front of her was unshaven, wearing a cheap, stained t-shirt, his hair a tangled mess. He was a ghost of the glamorous, golden boy she remembered. “Harry…” She forced a smile. “I… I heard about what happened. I’m so sorry, I was traveling overseas. I just got back.” Harry just stared at her, his face a blank mask. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why are you in a place like this? Come on, let’s go. I’ve booked you a room at the Four Seasons.” She reached for his hand. Harry pulled away. “Isabella, what are you doing here?” His voice was ice. “I’m here for you, of course! Harry, I love you. It doesn’t matter what happened to your family, I’ll always love you!” she declared, thrusting the bouquet at him. “Let’s start over, okay?” I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the performance. A masterclass in fake devotion. If I hadn’t already run a full background check on her, I might have almost believed it. Isabella’s father was new money, a small-time contractor who’d hit it big on a government rezoning deal a few years back. But for the past two years, his company had been bleeding money. She’d chased Harry for one reason: to marry into my empire. This little show was just an attempt to play the “loyal girlfriend” card, to salvage her reputation. And maybe, just maybe, to see if we were truly as broke as everyone said. Harry looked at her, and then a slow, cold smile spread across his face. “You love me?” he asked. “Is that why you’re wearing the watch Julian gave you? The Patek Philippe Sky Moon Tourbillon. One of only five in the world. I tried to buy one myself, but they were all spoken for. I guess you two are pretty serious.” The color drained from Isabella’s face. “Harry, let me explain, he and I…” “Don’t bother,” Harry cut her off. “Isabella, I used to think you were alright. You were pretty, you knew how to flatter me, you gave good gifts. But looking at you now… your face just makes me sick.” He pointed a finger toward the stairs. “Get out.” Publicly humiliated, Isabella’s mask of concern shattered. “Harry! Don’t be an ungrateful bastard! Do you still think you’re the prince of this city? You’re a nobody now! A broke joke! I came back for you out of pity, and you dare to talk to me like this?” “Broke is still cleaner than you,” Harry shot back. “Fine! Fine! Have it your way!” she shrieked, throwing the bouquet of roses to the ground with all her might. “I can’t wait to see you crawling back to me on your knees!” She stormed off, her curses echoing in the stairwell. All that was left was a pile of trampled, ruined flowers. Harry closed the door and sagged against it, sliding slowly to the floor. He didn’t cry. He just sat there, hugging his knees, for a very long time. I walked over and sat down on the floor beside him. “Figured it out yet?” I asked quietly. He nodded. “She didn’t love you. She loved what came with you,” I said. “Your family’s name, your spending power, the social circles you gave her access to. It was all on a price list. Now the price list is zero, so she’s gone.” “Dad,” he said, his voice calm for the first time in what felt like forever. “Was I an idiot?” “A pretty big one,” I said, not sugarcoating it. He buried his face in his knees. “I used to think… everything you said was just you being paranoid. I thought money could solve everything. I thought as long as I was rich, everyone would love me, that they’d always be there for me.” “And now?” “Now I know,” his voice was muffled. “The things money can buy are never real.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not too late. At twenty, you can still afford to lose.” That night, for the first time, he asked me a real question. “Dad, how much debt are we in?” I looked at him. The spoiled, clueless look in his eyes was gone. In its place was something I’d never seen before. A tiny, flickering spark. I told him a number. A number so large it would make any man despair. He was silent for a long time. “Can we… can we ever pay it back?” “We can,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “As long as we do it together.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385749”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I deleted my social media account with over a million followers. My followers were baffled, speculating that my account had been hacked. But it was Heidi, an influencer in my niche, who came to confront me directly. “Why did you just give up? Have you lost your mind?” I tuned out the noise, choosing instead to lose myself in the vast, quiet beauty of the country. In my past life, my content and Heidi’s were identical. The internet called me a cheap clone, a copycat with no soul. The hate flooded my DMs, and it even spilled over into real-life harassment. I tried to fight back, posting my original scripts, my storyboards, the behind-the-scenes footage of my creative process. They called it all fake. The relentless cyberbullying crushed me. I was diagnosed with severe depression and, one day, I ended my own life in my small, lonely apartment. I never expected to open my eyes again. But here I was, back on the very day it all began—the day Heidi’s first stolen video went live. 1 My finger hovered over the “Publish” button. One more tap, and I would set in motion the series of events that would ruin me. A violent shiver ran through me, and I snatched my hand back as if I’d touched a hot stove. My chest heaved, my breath coming in ragged gasps, like a drowning person finally breaking the surface. I looked around at the familiar room, at the finished video on my screen, and the reality crashed down on me. I was reborn. I was back on the day I was supposed to post major transition video. Once I calmed my racing heart, I saved the video to my drafts and immediately searched for Heidi’s social media profile. Her latest post popped up instantly. It was a stark departure from her usual style. Heidi’s previous videos were bland, the editing was clumsy, and they barely scraped a few hundred likes. This new one, posted just half an hour ago, had already rocketed past ten thousand. The comment section was on fire. “Imagine this look in a dark fantasy series. She’d be the final boss.” “A creator with a few thousand followers doing the work of a creator with a million. The quality is insane.” “Oh my god, is this level of beauty even legal?” “My wife! Who the hell let my future wife out of my dreams and onto my screen?” … The moody lighting, the bold, avant-garde makeup, even the camera angles, the specific cuts, the background music, and the caption—every single detail was identical to the video sitting in my drafts. If I didn’t know for a fact that the idea had come to me while binging a British drama, that I had pulled all-nighters for weeks perfecting the script, I would have thought I was the one who had copied it. But the reality was cold and hard: Heidi had beaten me to it. And with that one video, she had gone viral overnight. 2 In my last life, that video was the beginning of my end. I had been so excited when I posted it, expecting praise and recognition. But when I opened the comments, all I found were accusations. “Plagiarist,” they called me, pointing me toward the “original” video. I clicked the link they shared, and my world tilted. There it was: Heidi’s video, posted just hours before mine. It was a 99.9% match. But I knew, I knew, I had never copied anyone. Rage boiled up inside me. To prove my innocence, I released everything—my original script with timestamps, behind-the-scenes clips of my shoot. It was useless. Because Heidi immediately posted her own “creative process,” with timestamps that were even earlier than mine. That’s when the floodgates of hate truly opened. “Looks like she had her ‘proof’ ready from the start, just so she could drag Heidi’s name through the mud.” “Support original creators! Down with copycats!” “Madeleine, get out of the beauty community! You’re not cut out for this, just quit.” “LMAO, talk about getting called out. She asked for receipts and got them.” Then came the official statements. Heidi’s management and her agency both released press releases, swearing she was the original creator, that the entire concept was developed through internal team brainstorming. I was just an independent creator. I did everything myself, from start to finish. I had no team, no agency, no one to vouch for me. And then came the final nail in the coffin. My boyfriend, Ethan, posted a video publicly breaking up with me. He claimed my previous work was just a patchwork of ideas stitched together from other creators. He called me a habitual plagiarist. His words were a killing blow. I was plunged into a deeper abyss. My comment sections became a warzone, and the messages in my DMs were vile, filled with threats and vitriol I couldn’t bear to read. The constant pressure suffocated my creativity. My inspiration dried up. No brands would work with me. Money became tight. My self-destructive behaviors escalated until I finally sought help and was diagnosed with severe depression. On a bright, sunny afternoon, I chose to end my life in that cramped apartment. I never thought I would get a second chance, a chance to be back at the beginning, where it all went wrong. This time, things hadn’t spiraled out of control yet. This time, I had to figure out what the hell was going on. 3 Clinging to a sliver of hope, I used my alt account to dig through Heidi’s other social media profiles. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the type to share her daily life or work routine. Just as I was about to give up, I spotted a familiar figure in the background of a group photo. I tapped on the Live Photo, and it animated for a brief second. The camera panned slightly, catching the person’s left hand. And on that hand was a ring I knew all too well. It was Ethan’s. There was no mistake. I had given him that ring for our one-year anniversary. It was a custom design I’d commissioned myself; there wasn’t another one like it in the world. So, at some point, Ethan had gotten involved with Heidi behind my back. No wonder he had abandoned me so ruthlessly, only to throw his support behind her. There was no time to grieve the betrayal. My mind was already racing. I used to vent to Ethan about work all the time, share my frustrations, and even my most brilliant, half-formed ideas. Could Ethan have leaked my concepts to her? It was more than possible. But he’d been on a supposed “business trip” for a while now and wasn’t home. Even if he were, he’d never let me look at his phone. I had no concrete proof. But it was a lead. A place to start. I took a screenshot of the photo and sent it to Ethan. I told him we were done, then I blocked his number without waiting for a reply. Next, I changed the passcode on my apartment door. I wasn’t about to let him walk back in here whenever he pleased. With those preparations complete, I sat down and forced myself to think about a new video concept. This time, there would be no mistakes. 4 To be absolutely certain, I decided to switch up my style again. My last video was my first step out of my comfort zone, moving away from the pale, innocent, and waifish aesthetic that had defined my channel. I had tried something glamorous and confident. Since the stolen version had been such a hit, I was sure my next idea would be even more popular. After days of intense brainstorming, I finally finished the script. Looking at the concept on my screen, I couldn’t help but grin. There was no way anyone could steal this one. To prevent any leaks, I shot the entire video inside my apartment, avoiding any public locations. I filmed and edited the whole thing myself. When I looked at the final cut, I felt a surge of pride. I was born for this. To be extra cautious, I went to Heidi’s latest video and left a comment from my alt account: “Can’t wait for your next video, queen! Please post soon!” A little while later, she replied. “This last concept took so much out of me, I probably won’t be updating for a little while.” I replied with a crying cat emoji and felt a wave of relief. It seemed like she had no plans to post anytime soon. It confirmed my suspicion. She had most likely heard the idea for the last video from Ethan and immediately rushed to produce it. But could two people have the exact same idea, down to the smallest detail? For now, I had to chalk it up to a bizarre coincidence. Sometimes, great minds just think alike. I uploaded my new video, wrote the caption, and was just about to publish it. Suddenly, a notification popped up on my phone from my alt account. I glanced at it. The color drained from my face.

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