A video of me scolding a kid went viral on the trending charts, and netizens quickly dug up the boy’s identity: the son of Manhattan’s most untouchable billionaire heir. My biggest rival tweeted a public condemnation: [She looks so glamorous on the outside, but who knew she was a child abuser in private! Is she picking on him because he doesn’t have a mother?] My anti-fans united to boycott me, screaming for me to get the hell out of the entertainment industry. Me: “?” Wait… who said this kid doesn’t have a mother? That very night, the billionaire heir tagged me on Twitter: [Allow me to introduce everyone to my wife.] 1 Early in the morning, before I was even fully awake, my manager Brenda burst in from outside in an absolute panic. “Harper, you’re done for!” I was completely bewildered, but her face looked like the sky had fallen. “How could you dare hit Carter Sterling’s son?” Me: “???” Brenda quickly unlocked her phone and shoved it into my hands. There it was, a video titled “Harper Hayes Child Abuse” sitting at the very top of the trending list. In the video, I was pinching the cheeks of a three-to-five-year-old kid, my mouth moving as I rambled on, scolding him about something. The little boy looked teary-eyed, standing there not daring to move an inch. Because of the camera angle, my expression—which had actually been affectionate—looked incredibly harsh and strict in the video. [Oh my god, is that Harper Hayes? What is she doing!] [Hurting a kid? That poor boy looks so pitiful!] [That’s not just hurting a kid, that’s child abuse! Industry insiders have been saying for ages that Harper has a selfish, explosive temper and uses violence to vent! I didn’t expect her to target children now! Look at that terrifying expression on her face!] Below the video, there was a mountain of comments spreading rumors and cursing me out. Of course, there were a few trying to defend me. That is, until someone posted a photo. It was a picture of Carter Sterling holding hands with a three-to-five-year-old boy at an event. In the photo, the man wore a sharp black suit. His pale, devastatingly handsome face and deep, dark eyes radiated a cold, unapproachable distance. The kid holding his hand looked like he was carved out of the exact same mold! [Holy crap! That kid is Carter Sterling’s son!] Everyone knew that Carter Sterling, the crown prince of Manhattan’s elite, had a son. No one had ever seen the birth mother, but Carter spoiled the boy to the heavens from the day he was born. The kid wasn’t allowed to suffer so much as a scratch. No matter what Carter did, he took his son with him. Once, a rival company tried to “invite” little Theo over for a chat behind Carter’s back. Even though they failed, the billionaire heir flew into a terrifying rage and ruthlessly acquired every single company under that rival’s name. That incident sent shockwaves through the entire elite circle. Once this photo dropped, the internet went dead silent for a moment before erupting into an even more massive uproar. Those who had been defending me didn’t dare make a peep. [Harper is finished! She is completely done for! Who gave her the nerve to abuse Carter Sterling’s son!] [Harper deserves it! I’ve hated her for ages, and now she’s basically forfeited her own life!] At the same time, some celebrities jumped into the fray. Among them was my biggest rival, the rising starlet Stella Montgomery. Since her debut, she had skyrocketed to fame by copying my outfits and acting roles, earning her the nickname “Little Harper.” But unlike me, she loved playing the pure, innocent victim on the internet. Stella posted a tweet: [I never imagined that someone who looks so glamorous on the surface could be so ruthless. She actually committed child abuse! Doesn’t this cross the line into criminal liability?] She also tagged several high-profile lawyers in the comments. Although she didn’t mention my name, everyone knew exactly who she was talking about. Instantly, her traffic skyrocketed, and her comment section was flooded with vitriol aimed at me. 2 I am the queen of controversial publicity in the industry. I have a legion of loyal fans, but an equally massive army of anti-fans. The tiniest thing about me gets infinitely magnified and sent rocketing up the trending charts. Let alone right now, when my name was sitting right next to “Child Abuse” and “Billionaire Heir.” Brenda’s phone was ringing off the hook. If, at the very beginning of the scandal, brand sponsors and partners were just watching from the shadows without making a move… Now that it was revealed the kid was Carter Sterling’s son, they were all calling to terminate my contracts. Me: “…” Carter and I have been secretly married for five years. Theo is my son. Seeing how cute my son is, I couldn’t resist pinching his cheeks—is that a crime? That day, I had just finished an appearance and was rushing to the next one when my son showed up. He pitifully told me that Daddy had prepared a candlelight dinner and wanted to invite me home to eat together. Three meals a day? Carter could prepare six! The veins on my forehead throbbed. I was afraid the paparazzi would photograph the kid—after all, it wasn’t as safe for him to be with me as it was with Carter—so I scolded him a bit and told him to hurry back. I didn’t expect to actually get caught by the paparazzi, and for them to twist it into me committing child abuse. Brenda collapsed onto the sofa, wailing, “It’s over, it’s over… it’s all over.” Looking at her state, I felt a bit bad. “Brenda, maybe there’s still a turnaround for this…” But before I could finish, Brenda cut me off, sobbing: “What turnaround?! Everyone knows you don’t mess with Carter Sterling’s son! You could have pinched anyone, you could have pinched me! Why did you have to go and provoke his son…” I opened my mouth, about to say something to her, when Brenda’s phone rang again. By the time she finished the call and came back, her eyes were shining. “Harper, a reality TV show wants you! They’re offering three times your usual quote! Let’s do one last big job before we get forced to retire!” Me: “…” Looking at Brenda’s expression, I sighed helplessly and nodded. 3 It was a travel reality show. The producers clearly valued the heat from me getting trashed online. Besides inviting me, they also invited Stella. The entire show was broadcast live. By the time I arrived, Stella was facing the cameras, giving a legal PSA: “Child abuse is punishable by law. Under severe circumstances, it constitutes a felony and can lead to prison time…” The live chat was filled with comments praising Stella for being beautiful and kind-hearted. However, the moment she saw me, Stella’s face turned freezing cold. The camera shifted to me, and the live chat started scrolling wildly. [Damn! How does Harper still have the nerve to show her face in public and join a reality show?!] [Where are the police?! Where are the police! Why haven’t they arrested Harper yet! She committed a crime!] [Five stars for Stella. Our Stella is just straightforward and hates injustice! The moment she laid eyes on Harper, you could clearly see she was angry!] [That was child abuse! I was furious just watching it! Get the hell out of the entertainment industry, toxic Harper!] Stella walked right up to me and said, “Harper, do you have anything you want to say about abusing a child?” I sneered. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you. If you’re sick, don’t come to me. I’m not a veterinarian.” My reputation online was already garbage, and I had been sick of Stella for ages anyway, so I didn’t hold back at all. Stella’s face flushed red, seemingly from pure anger. The netizens in the live stream launched a fresh wave of attacks against me. [Damn! That bitch Harper, how dare she call Stella sick?!] [Toxic Harper! I want to rip your face off!] [To be honest, I kind of agree with what Harper said. Looking at that video alone, she just pinched the kid’s cheeks. It doesn’t reach the level of child abuse. It’s one thing for netizens to gossip, but Stella, a public figure, directly slapped the ‘child abuser’ label on Harper and is lecturing about the law on a live stream to control the narrative. She deserves to get cursed out.] [To the person above, you’re disgusting too. You probably enjoy abusing kids in your free time, huh?] There were people speaking up for me in the live chat, but they were quickly drowned out by the overwhelming insults. Stella let out a cold laugh. “Harper, don’t be so arrogant and reckless. This is a society governed by law! Everyone has to take responsibility for what they’ve done! Carter is not going to let you get away with this!” Carter. What the hell was that about? The live stream viewers were just as curious. [Carter? Does she mean Carter Sterling?] [Could it be that our goddess Stella has some kind of relationship with the billionaire heir? Otherwise, why would she call him ‘Carter’?] [Ahhhhh, Stella, hurry up and tell us! What’s going on!] Stella saw the scrolling comments in the live chat. She took a deep breath, a smirk playing on her lips, and spoke to the camera: “That’s right, I originally didn’t want to say anything. But Harper went too far. She actually bullied my little nephew!” “As his aunt, I really couldn’t stand by and watch anymore, so I had to step forward! The truth is, I am Carter Sterling’s cousin!” Carter’s cousin? Why didn’t I know about this! 4 Stella’s words undoubtedly created a massive tidal wave in the live stream. The chat was boiling over. [Holy shit! Stella is actually Carter Sterling’s cousin?! She hid it so well. We never heard a single whisper of this before!] [Waaaah, I’m crying. Our Stella really comes from a great family, and she’s beautiful and hardworking. She deserves to be a superstar!] [Harper is completely screwed now, right? Bullying the little Sterling heir, and now look, his aunt is standing right here!] [At first I thought Stella was just trying to ride the clout wave, but I didn’t expect she actually just couldn’t stand it anymore and stepped up to protect her family.] I furrowed my brow, voicing the confusion in my heart out loud: “Why didn’t I know you were Carter’s cousin?” Carter is an only child. Although he and I are secretly married to the public, I know almost all of his relatives. I had never heard of him having a cousin. Seeing the viewer count in the live stream rocketing upwards, the director was also getting excited. After all, the name “Carter Sterling” itself represented traffic and power. But Carter was unreachable; they couldn’t get near him. Now that “Carter’s cousin” had appeared right in front of them, the director definitely had to seize the opportunity! Immediately, the director instructed the cameraman to give Stella a close-up and asked, “Stella, so you hiding your identity in the industry… was that just you wanting to experience a normal life?” Stella offered a modest, elegant smile to the camera. “Being an entertainer is my dream. The reason I didn’t say anything before was that I didn’t want people to mistakenly think my achievements were handed to me by my cousin. I wanted to prove my own abilities to everyone.” [Oh my god! I love Stella so much! She is so hardworking!] [Like I said, stanning Goddess Stella is never a loss!] Stella’s quotes rushed straight to the trending list. #StellaMontgomeryIsAHiddenHeiress #StellaMontgomeryHidesIdentityToChaseDreams Several hashtags maintained constant heat, and her follower count was shooting up exponentially. Of course, I only learned all this from the discussions among the nearby staff. When recording a show, guests’ cell phones are confiscated. The director struck while the iron was hot: “Stella, we’re heading to the Hamptons next to film. I heard Mr. Sterling owns a massive mansion in the Hamptons. Could you talk to Mr. Sterling and see if he’d lend that mansion to our production crew for a few days?” “No problem,” Stella agreed immediately. I narrowed my eyes. Carter did indeed own a mansion in the Hamptons. I was the one who picked it out. The scenery around it was beautiful, and it was huge—more than enough to house a production crew. That mansion was registered under my name. “Did you ask the owner before you just agreed?” Stella frowned, looking at me with dissatisfaction. “My cousin and I have always been very close. What’s the problem with me borrowing his place for a few days?” A young woman in a short white skirt standing next to Stella immediately linked arms with her. “Stella, maybe some people are just jealous of you. Let’s ignore her.” This was another female guest participating in the show, named Aubrey Paige. There were six people in total recording this show. Aside from me, Stella, and Aubrey, there were three male guests. The five of them stood together, distancing themselves from me. Off-camera, my manager Brenda kept frantically winking at me, signaling me not to argue with them. I pinched my palms and didn’t say another word. I also wanted to see if Stella could actually get inside that mansion in the Hamptons.

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I was hospitalized with a severe fever, and my boyfriend took care of me with flawless devotion. He even urged me to distance myself from my toxic family, telling me not to let them exhaust me anymore. But then, I found a post he made on Reddit. It was a detailed, meticulously formatted post, categorizing and comparing my “stats” against his ex-girlfriend’s. Tens of thousands of users had voted me the “Ultimate Marriage Material.” The reasons? I was an only child, estranged from my family, and a tenured public school teacher. The top pinned comment from him read: But I still can’t forget my ex. 1 While I was sick in the hospital, my boyfriend, Ethan Wright, was incredibly considerate, running around taking care of my every need. My colleagues crowded into my hospital room, chattering away about how lucky I was. They gushed about how I had just landed a secure job at Oakridge High School right out of college, and on top of that, I had the perfect boyfriend. My head was spinning with fever, but I could still hear Ethan joking around with my coworkers. He laughed and agreed when one of them suggested we use the summer break for our honeymoon, and the winter break for my maternity leave. The comment hit right at Ethan’s core desires. He nodded enthusiastically. I felt a sudden twist of discomfort in my chest. I simply closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. When it came to marriage, I still had a lot of reservations. I didn’t want to expose too much of my private life to my colleagues. Plus, Ethan had brought up marriage a few times recently, and I had intentionally avoided giving him a straight answer. He was a wonderful boyfriend. But whenever the topic of tying the knot came up, my instincts always told me to pull away. Once the visiting hour was over, Ethan walked my colleagues out into the hallway. His phone, left on the bedside table, kept buzzing. The screen lit up. The orange Reddit icon kept flashing with notifications. Messages like u/Throwaway123 commented on your post were flooding his lock screen. Driven by some unexplainable urge, I swiped to unlock his phone. I knew his passcode. Under a post titled, Ultimate Marriage Choice: Girl A or Girl B?, I saw his username. It had over 10,000 upvotes and 800 comments. It turned out, my subconscious hesitation wasn’t just baseless paranoia. 2 Ethan walked back into the room right at that moment. He adjusted his glasses, glanced at the phone that had clearly been moved, and asked with a half-joking tone, “Checking my phone?” I forced a smile, pretending everything was perfectly normal. “Just silencing a spam call. What took you so long?” His expression remained perfectly calm as he explained, “I was going to grab you some light soup from the cafeteria on my way back up, but realized I left my phone here. My brain is fried today!” The hospital AC was blasting. I pulled the blanket all the way up to my chin, shivering. He gently wrapped his warm hands around the IV tube, trying to warm up the fluid before it entered my vein. “These bags should be done by the afternoon. I’ll pick you up then, and we can go get a nice steak dinner to build your strength back up. Don’t go to the farmers’ market tonight. You teach all day and spend your evenings shouting over the crowd selling your iced teas. Your throat can’t take it. “Honestly, we should just get the wedding over with this summer. It’ll save you from your parents constantly nagging you for money every time you visit. They have their own retirement savings; I don’t know why they’re always trying to drain yours. “Once we’re married, you can move in with me. My mom can help take care of both of us. You know how much she adores you. She’s always asking when I’m bringing you home.” He spoke with such genuine excitement, smiling at me, his face glowing with anticipation for our married life. But beneath the blanket, my hands were clenched into tight fists. Ethan was great. But his greatness always felt a little… artificial. He never lost his temper with me. Everything he did was meticulously gentle. It was almost as if… he was an AI boyfriend custom-built to my exact preferences. And that Reddit post was now a jagged thorn lodged in my heart. He was definitely hiding something from me. And if I found out what it was, the dynamic between us would inevitably shatter. I gave him a noncommittal smile. “We’ll see.” Ethan didn’t push the issue. He kissed my forehead and left for work. Not long after he left, his mother called to check on me. Ethan was raised by a single mother. They had a very tight-knit relationship, sharing absolutely everything. Before, I used to envy their close bond. But thinking about that post, a cold chill ran down my spine. My tone was a bit stiff. “Thank you for checking in, Mrs. Wright. I’m fine. I won’t be coming over for dinner tonight, though. I booked an afternoon train ticket to go see my parents.” She paused, her voice taking on a slightly scolding edge. “Oh, honey. You really are too attached to your parents. It’ll be better once you’re married. Your parents have their own lives. At the end of the day, your husband’s home is your real home.” As a language teacher, I am hyper-sensitive to tone and subtext. Before today, I only suspected that Ethan and his mother harbored a subtle hostility toward my family. But with that Reddit post fresh in my mind, my suspicions were confirmed. Ethan and his mother were definitely keeping secrets. When I finally got discharged and returned to my apartment, I opened Reddit on my own phone to search for the post. It was gone. Ethan was a meticulous guy. He probably deleted it the second he realized I might snoop. But he forgot one crucial rule: the internet is forever. 3 I remembered the contents of that post almost perfectly. The whole point of his comparison was to calculate value: separating the assets from the liabilities. It read like an actuarial table. Ethan had listed out the family backgrounds, incomes, and career stability of both me and his ex-girlfriend. He literally uploaded a screenshot of an Excel spreadsheet. Height, weight, and “attractiveness ratings” were highlighted in red. I had heard about his ex-girlfriend from his mother. According to Mrs. Wright, Ethan and that girl dated for four years in college and broke up right after graduation. The reason? The girl demanded a massive $50,000 diamond ring and an extravagant wedding fully paid for by Ethan. She wouldn’t budge. His mother had told me, with fierce conviction, “I would never allow a gold-digger like that into our family.” But when she turned to me, her face softened into a warm smile. “Chloe, sweetie, you are the only daughter-in-law I’ll ever acknowledge. Here, wear this bracelet. I bought it specifically for you. It’s going to be our family’s heirloom.” Sitting in my apartment, I rubbed the emerald bracelet on my wrist, feeling sick to my stomach. On my first day wearing this “heirloom” to the teachers’ lounge, a veteran teacher with a good eye pulled me aside and told me it was cheap, dyed glass. She warned me not to wear it often because the chemical dyes could cause a skin rash. At the time, I defended her. “She’s an older lady, she probably just got scammed at a mall kiosk. It’s the thought that counts. I’ll just wear it occasionally so I don’t hurt her feelings.” Looking back, I was painfully naive. In this twisted, passive competition, my “winning” stats were glaringly obvious. The older teachers at my school always joked that a tenured public school job with full pension and union benefits was the ultimate dowry. Add the fact that I was an only child with a highly strained relationship with my parents. I vividly remembered the vile comments under his post: “Bro, secure the bag. When her parents pass, the whole estate is yours.” “Teacher benefits are top-tier. You’ll never pay for healthcare again.” “She doesn’t even want a ring? You could marry six of her for the price of your ex.” I searched the keywords on Twitter and TikTok, and sure enough, several large drama accounts had already screenshotted and reposted the thread. Ethan’s burner username was MissingM. His ex’s name was Mia. The profile picture he used for that burner account was a candid photo I took of his back on our very first date. The irony was suffocating. The post was originally made during my first year teaching—the same year Ethan and I met. Back then, I was trying to build a side hustle selling artisanal iced teas at the weekend farmers’ market. On my first day, a massive thunderstorm hit. I was struggling to push my heavy cart under a building’s awning, drenched and miserable. Yet, I still managed to sell a few cups to people seeking shelter. Ethan bought my first cup of tea that day and asked for my number. He had braved the pouring rain to run to a nearby CVS just to buy me an umbrella. That umbrella was still sitting in the corner of my apartment. I cherished it so much I refused to use it on rainy days, afraid it would get ruined. I truly thought he loved me, at least a little. I thought what we had was a real romance. But the pinned comment under his analytical spreadsheet read: I picked the teacher for the financial security, but I still can’t forget my ex. The timestamp on that comment? Yesterday. 4 I packed a small overnight bag, intending to go to my parents’ house just to clear my head. But Ethan’s words, “I still can’t forget my ex,” echoed in my mind like a cursed loop. I curled up in the corner of my room and cried for a long time. I remembered Ethan mentioning that his ex was obsessed with Instagram. Acting on pure impulse, I created a burner account, searched through dozens of variations of her name, cross-referenced locations, and finally found Mia’s profile. She had updated her story that morning. —Welcoming our little Gemini baby into the world. The photo showed a family of three in a hospital room. The newborn’s face was still red, eyes squeezed shut. On either side, two exhausted but beaming adults looked down at the baby with pure, unadulterated happiness. I scrolled down. Mia had gotten married last year. Her husband looked like a normal, everyday guy—probably a coworker. Her grid was full of the little details of her life. Things like, “Hubby picked me up from work again!” accompanied by a selfie of the two of them wearing helmets, smiling on the back of a beaten-up Vespa. I also saw a post about her wedding. It was a modest, beautiful backyard ceremony. She captioned it: True love doesn’t need a $50k ring or a country club to prove its worth. She was the complete opposite of the shallow gold-digger Ethan’s mother had described. With my sharp eyes, I noticed a familiar profile picture in her likes. It was the same photo of Ethan’s back. The account name was EW_Secret. I hated my own investigative skills in that moment, because clicking on EW_Secret led me to a public Twitter account Ethan had been using. A tweet from three months ago read: Lonely as hell tonight. Who gets this? My girlfriend plays the pure saint and insists on waiting until the wedding night. But she keeps dodging my proposals. What do I do? I didn’t realize Ethan had such a talent for being an online degenerate. The replies were disgusting. Several bot accounts with half-naked profile pictures dropped their Snapchat handles. Ethan replied to one: How much for an hour? Prices ranged from $100 to $600. Ethan didn’t reply publicly after that. Whether he slid into their DMs, I didn’t know. But less than ten days later, Ethan posted a photo of his hand resting on a woman’s bare collarbone. A comment asked: Did you score? Ethan replied: Took three days, but I made a married older woman break her vows for me. There was no shame in his words. No guilt. Only grotesque pride. I felt bile rising in my throat. Someone else commented: Why mess around with used goods? Gross. Ethan replied with a smirking emoji: You just don’t understand the benefits of an older woman. Another user chimed in: This guy is playing chess. Married women keep their mouths shut. No drama. And once you’re married yourself, keeping a side piece is way more thrilling. Ethan simply replied: You get it. Several people replied: Taking notes, bro. Looking closely at the photo Ethan posted, the woman’s face was cropped out. But you could clearly see Ethan’s arm, and on his finger was the matching promise ring he had bought for us. Meanwhile, on his main Facebook account, Ethan was constantly posting our couple photos, writing long, sappy captions about our three-year anniversary. For a moment, the room spun. I genuinely couldn’t tell what was real anymore.

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A video of me scolding a child trended number one on Twitter. Netizens quickly figured out the kid was the son of NYC’s most elusive billionaire heir. My rival starlet tweeted her outrage: [She looks glamorous on the outside, but who knew she was a child abuser in private? Is she bullying him because he doesn’t have a mother?] Haters united to boycott me, screaming for me to get out of Hollywood. Me: “?” Wait… who said this kid doesn’t have a mother? That night, the billionaire heir tagged me: [Allow me to introduce everyone to my wife.] 1 Early in the morning, before I was even fully awake, my manager Valerie burst through my front door in a panic. “Scarlett, you’re finished!” I was completely confused, but her face looked like the sky had just fallen. “How could you have the nerve to hit Harrison Vance’s son?!” Me: “???” Valerie quickly unlocked her phone and shoved it into my face. A hashtag titled #ScarlettBlakeChildAbuse was sitting at the number one trending spot. In the video, I was pinching a little three-or-four-year-old boy’s cheeks, my mouth moving as I clearly lectured him about something. The kid looked up at me with big, teary eyes, standing perfectly still, not daring to move an inch. Because of the camera angle, my expression—which was actually super gentle at the time—looked incredibly harsh and aggressive in the video. [Oh my god, is that Scarlett Blake? What the hell is she doing?!] [Hurting a kid? That poor little boy looks terrified!] [That’s not just hurting a kid, that’s straight-up child abuse! Industry insiders have always said Scarlett is selfish, manic, and uses people as punching bags! I can’t believe she’s not even sparing a toddler! Look at her terrifying face!] The comment section under the video was a cesspool of rumors and insults. Naturally, a few people tried to defend me. That is, until someone posted a specific photo. It was a paparazzi shot of Harrison Vance holding a little boy’s hand at a private charity gala. In the photo, the man wore a sharp black suit. He was devastatingly handsome, his dark, deep-set eyes radiating a cold, untouchable aura. And the little boy holding his hand looked like a carbon copy cut from the exact same mold! [Holy crap! That kid is Harrison Vance’s son!] Everyone knew Harrison Vance, the elusive heir to the Vance empire, the ultimate “Prince of Wall Street.” He had a son whose biological mother was a complete mystery. But it was common knowledge that Harrison spoiled this kid to the heavens. No one was allowed to so much as bump into him. Harrison took his son everywhere. Once, a rival corporate executive tried to secretly “invite” little Hudson over for a “chat.” Although the kidnapping attempt failed, the billionaire heir was so furious he ruthlessly acquired and liquidated every single company under the rival’s name. That incident sent shockwaves through New York’s elite circles. The moment this photo was dropped into the thread, the internet went dead silent for a minute before exploding into unprecedented chaos. Anyone who had been defending me immediately shut their mouths. [Scarlett is done! She is completely finished! Who gave her the audacity to abuse Harrison Vance’s son?!] [Serves her right! I’ve always hated her. She’s probably going to lose her life over this, let alone her career!] At the same time, a few other celebrities decided to jump into the fray. Among them was my biggest rival, the up-and-coming starlet Harper Monroe. Since her debut, she had skyrocketed to fame by copying my fashion sense and acting roles, earning her the nickname “Little Scarlett.” But unlike my edgy, straight-shooting persona, she loved playing the pure, innocent sweetheart on the internet. Harper posted a tweet: [It’s shocking how some people look so glamorous on the outside, but are actually so vicious and cruel. How could anyone commit child abuse? Doesn’t this cross the line into criminal liability?] She even tagged several high-profile celebrity lawyers in the replies. Even though she didn’t name me directly, everyone knew exactly who she was talking about. Her engagement skyrocketed, and her comment section became a breeding ground for people hurling death threats at me. 2 I’ve always been a polarizing figure in Hollywood. I have a massive base of die-hard fans, but an equally massive army of haters. The tiniest thing I do gets magnified a thousand times and instantly hits the trending page. Let alone when my name was suddenly put in the same sentence as “Child Abuse” and “Billionaire Heir.” Valerie’s phone was ringing off the hook. When the trend first started, most of my brand sponsors and business partners were secretly watching from the sidelines, waiting to see how it played out. But the moment it was revealed that the kid was Harrison Vance’s son, they all started calling to terminate my contracts. Me: “…” Harrison and I had been secretly married for five years. Hudson is my son. I thought my own kid looked cute, so I pinched his cheeks. Is that a crime?! Yesterday, I had just rushed out of a commercial shoot and was hurrying to my next schedule when I saw my son waiting for me. He looked up at me pitifully and said Daddy had prepared a candlelight dinner and wanted to invite me home to eat. If he could, Harrison would prepare six meals a day just to keep me at home! My temples throbbed. I was terrified the paparazzi would photograph the kid—it was way less safe for him to be seen with me than with Harrison. So, I sternly told him to hurry back to his dad’s car. I didn’t expect a paparazzi to actually catch it, much less post it online and frame it as child abuse. Valerie collapsed onto my sofa, muttering, “It’s over… it’s over… it’s all over.” Seeing her looking so defeated, I felt a twinge of guilt. “Valerie, maybe there’s a turning point…” But before I could finish, she cut me off, wailing, “What turning point?! Everyone knows you don’t mess with Harrison Vance’s son! You could have pinched anyone! You could have pinched me! Why did you have to provoke his kid?!” I opened my mouth to explain, but her phone rang again. When Valerie came back from taking the call, her eyes were shining. “Scarlett! A reality TV show just reached out! They’re offering three times your usual rate! Let’s do one last big heist before you get blacklisted from the industry!” Me: “…” Looking at Valerie’s desperate, hopeful face, I sighed and nodded. 3 It was a travel and lifestyle reality show. The producers clearly saw the massive traffic my scandal was generating. They didn’t just invite me; they invited Harper Monroe, too. The entire show was broadcast via livestream. When I arrived on set, Harper was literally facing the camera, giving a legal PSA: “Child abuse is a felony. In severe cases, it constitutes a criminal offense that can carry actual prison time…” The live chat was flooded with comments praising Harper for being so beautiful and kind-hearted. However, the moment she saw me, her face turned ice-cold. The cameras immediately zoomed in on me, and the chat exploded. [Holy shit! How does Scarlett have the nerve to show her face on a live broadcast right now?!] [Where are the cops?! Why hasn’t she been arrested yet?! She committed a crime!] [Five stars to Harper! Our girl is so straightforward and hates injustice! You can tell just by her face how angry she is to see Scarlett!] [That was child abuse! Even I was furious watching it! Toxic Scarlett, get out of the entertainment industry!] Harper walked right up to me and demanded, “Scarlett, do you have anything to say for yourself regarding your abuse of that child?” I let out a cold laugh. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you. If you’re sick, go to a doctor. Don’t come barking at me; I’m not a vet.” My reputation on the internet was already in the gutter, and I had always despised Harper anyway, so I didn’t bother holding back. Harper’s face flushed bright red, clearly furious. The livestream viewers launched a new wave of attacks against me. [Damn! That bitch Scarlett actually dared to call Harper sick?!] [Toxic Scarlett! I want to rip her face off!] [Honestly, I kind of agree with Scarlett here. If you just watch the video, she’s literally just pinching a kid’s cheek. It doesn’t look like actual abuse. It’s one thing for netizens to gossip, but Harper is a public figure pinning a felony charge on her, lecturing about the law on a livestream, and leading a hate mob. She deserved to get roasted.] [To the person above, you’re disgusting. You probably enjoy abusing kids in your free time too, huh?] There were a few people speaking up for me, but they were quickly buried under an avalanche of hate. Harper sneered. “Scarlett, don’t be so arrogant. We live in a society with laws. Everyone has to pay for what they’ve done! Harrison won’t let you get away with this!” Harrison? What the hell was that? She called him by his first name like they were close friends? The livestream viewers were just as curious. [Wait, Harrison? Does she mean Harrison Vance?] [Does Goddess Harper actually know the billionaire heir personally? Otherwise, why would she call him so casually?] [Ahhh! Harper, tell us! What’s your connection?!] Harper saw the comments scrolling by on the monitor. She took a deep breath, a smug smile tugging at her lips, and looked directly into the camera. “That’s right. I wasn’t going to say anything. But Scarlett has gone too far. I can’t just stand by while she bullies my little nephew!” “As his aunt, I couldn’t just watch! I had to stand up! The truth is… Harrison Vance is my cousin!” Harrison’s cousin?! Why did I not know about this?! 4 Harper’s declaration sent a massive tsunami through the livestream. The chat went absolute feral. [NO WAY! Harper is Harrison Vance’s cousin?! She kept that hidden so well! I’ve never heard a single rumor about this!] [Omg I’m crying! My girl really comes from a super-wealthy background, but she’s still so beautiful and hardworking! She deserves all her fame!] [Scarlett is officially dead meat! She bullied the young master of the Vance family, and now his aunt is standing right here!] [At first, I thought Harper was just clout-chasing, but she actually stepped up because she’s fiercely protective of her family. Respect.] I furrowed my brows, voicing the exact question in my head: “How come I’ve never heard that you were Harrison Vance’s cousin?” Harrison is an only child. Even though our marriage is a secret to the public, I know almost all of his relatives. I had never heard of him having a cousin named Harper. Seeing the viewer count skyrocketing, the director of the show got visibly excited. The name “Harrison Vance” represented absolute power and endless traffic, but the man himself was unreachable. Now that “Harrison’s cousin” was standing right in front of him, the director knew he had to milk this opportunity! Immediately, the director signaled the cameraman to give Harper a close-up. “Harper, does that mean you hid your identity in Hollywood just to experience life as a normal person?” Harper gave the camera a perfectly practiced, modest smile. “Being an actress has always been my dream. The reason I never mentioned my background is that I didn’t want people to think my success came from my cousin’s empire. I wanted to prove my own worth to everyone.” [Oh my god! I love her so much! She works so hard!] [I’ve always said stan Harper! She never disappoints!] Harper’s words instantly trended on X. #HarperMonroeSecretHeiress #HarperMonroeChasingDreams Her hashtags dominated the trending page, and her follower count skyrocketed by the second. I only found all this out from listening to the production staff whispering off-camera; as part of the show’s rules, all guests had our phones confiscated. Striking while the iron was hot, the director asked, “Harper, our next filming location is in Aspen. I’ve heard the Vance family owns a massive private estate there. Do you think you could ask Mr. Vance to lend the estate to our production crew for a few days?” “No problem,” Harper agreed without missing a beat. I narrowed my eyes. Harrison did own a massive mansion in Aspen. I was the one who picked it out. The scenery was stunning, and it was large enough to easily house an entire production crew. But that property was legally registered under my name. “Did you even ask the owner of the house? And you just casually agreed?” I asked. Harper frowned, looking at me with deep annoyance. “My cousin and I are incredibly close. What’s the problem with me borrowing his house for a few days?” A young woman in a white dress walked up and linked her arm through Harper’s. “Harper, some people are just jealous and bitter. Let’s just ignore her.” This was Madison Hayes, another actress participating in the show. There were six guests in total: me, Harper, Madison, and three male celebrities. Right now, the other five were clustered together, deliberately keeping their distance from me. Off-camera, Valerie was frantically winking at me, signaling me not to pick a fight. I clenched my hands and kept my mouth shut. I really wanted to see how Harper planned to get into that Aspen mansion.

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He took her ditching class, taught her to smoke and drink, and sent her grades plummeting. I couldn’t bear to watch her spiral, so when her parents asked, I told them everything. From then on, she was kept under strict watch by her folks. The night she and the school rebel planned to elope, her parents stopped her. She couldn’t make it to him. And that same night, he tragically died in a freak accident. Years later, set up by our families, we got married and had a child. During a terrible car crash, to protect her and our daughter, I pushed them away and took the brunt of the impact. Just before my consciousness faded, she leaned in close to my ear: “She isn’t your daughter. I never loved you. I only married you to get revenge.” Under her resentful glare, I took my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my senior year of high school, right on the day the bad boy asked her out. “Ethan, Caleb asked me to hang out with him tonight. Do you think I should go?” I stared blankly at the young, pretty face in front of me. Suddenly, I realized I had been reborn. I was back in my senior year. Seeing me space out, Chloe waved a hand in front of my face and complained, “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Chloe Davis was my childhood sweetheart. She was a dancer, banking everything on getting into a performing arts conservatory. She was slender, had an incredible presence, and her dance routines were top-tier. Her only flaw was that her academic grades were a disaster. Meanwhile, I was in the AP Honors track. With my GPA, I was guaranteed a solid state university, but I was gunning for the Ivy League. At her parents’ request, I spent three evenings a week tutoring her, trying to help her get the scores she needed for her dream dance academy in New York. Once upon a time, I thought this was a perfect arrangement. I thought we would go to the East Coast together, that I’d find the perfect moment to confess my feelings, and that we’d get married, have kids, and become the perfect couple our parents always hoped we’d be. Our future was laid out right in front of us; all it took was a little effort to reach it. But right at that crucial moment, Caleb Vance showed up. Just like Chloe, Caleb was a notorious figure at our school. He was ridiculously good-looking, and his family background was a mystery. Countless girls threw themselves at him, though they tried not to be too obvious about it. After all, Caleb had a terrible temper. He was rebellious, violent, slacked off constantly, and had zero respect for anyone. Rumor had it that just this week, he made an English teacher quit in tears. Even the principal couldn’t do anything about him. Yet, this was the guy who successfully caught Chloe’s eye. “I know he has a bad reputation and everyone’s scared of him. But last time I got cornered by some creeps off-campus, he saved me. He’s nothing like the rumors. He’s actually a really good guy, just tough on the outside but soft on the inside.” Chloe rested her chin on her hands, her cheeks flushed pink. Whenever she talked about Caleb, her eyes lit up like they held a sky full of stars. It was completely different from how she looked at me. In my past life, on the day of our wedding, even her bridesmaids were crying, begging me to treat her right. But Chloe, the bride, just maintained a shallow, perfectly polite smile the entire time. From start to finish, her emotions barely fluctuated. It was only later I realized that because she didn’t love me, she could stay as calm as an outsider. When she truly loved someone, even if she covered her mouth, the love would still pour out of her eyes. “Ethan, why are you being so quiet? You can’t just judge a book by its cover, you know. Don’t think I’m just trying to make excuses for Caleb; I’m telling the truth!” Chloe already had her answer. Asking for my permission now was just her way of dragging me down with her. If her parents found out, she could smoothly shift the blame to me, claiming I let her go, making me the scapegoat. She had been like this since we were kids. I was six months older, so I always played the protective older brother. Every time she caused trouble, I stepped up and took the fall. And she happily enjoyed my sacrifices without a second thought. But now, I was done with that. Seeing I wasn’t responding, Chloe compromised, “Okay, fine, I admit it, I want to go. Just do me a solid, please? You don’t even have to do anything, just don’t rat me out to my parents. If they ask how tutoring went, just say it was great.” She suddenly leaned close, pressing her hands together pleadingly, looking at me with big doe eyes. “Please, please, please?” She always knew exactly how to manipulate me. I was about to speak when a commotion erupted outside the classroom. Classmates started whispering loudly, “Whoa, it’s Caleb! What’s he doing here?!” Caleb stood in the doorway, tall and easily standing out from the crowd. Even as a guy, looking at his face, I had to admit he was incredibly handsome. Handsome enough to make anyone else feel inadequate. Caleb leaned against the doorframe, lazily asking Chloe, “Have you made up your mind yet? Are we going or what?” The whispers grew louder. “So he’s here for Chloe. Wait, wasn’t Chloe supposed to be studying with Ethan tonight?” “Are you stupid? Between Caleb and Ethan, who would you pick?! Caleb, obviously! He’s gorgeous!” “Whatever, slacking off in senior year for a guy is just setting yourself up for regrets later.” Caleb looked annoyed. He swept his gaze over the room and kicked the door loudly. “You guys tired of having teeth?” The whole room fell dead silent instantly. Chloe shot me a begging look. I said flatly, “Go if you want. It’s not my place to manage you.” After everything I went through in my past life, I had learned a deep truth: Drop the savior complex and respect other people’s destinies. Chloe jumped up with joy and even gave me a quick hug. “I knew you were the best, Ethan!” The class let out a collective gasp. “Whoa!” But Chloe quickly let go, though her faint perfume still lingered in the air. Usually, Chloe was quiet and reserved, widely seen as the untouchable, ice-queen goddess of the school. She rarely acted this bubbly and proactive. If this were the old me, I would have been ecstatic, feeling like I’d just been handed the greatest gift on earth. But now, all I wanted to do was get back to figuring out the final calculus problem on my practice test. Caleb’s expression shifted slightly. He walked right between us, smoothly forcing us apart. “Let’s bounce, then. Nerd, don’t you dare snitch to her folks, or you’re dead meat.” He casually snatched my glasses off my face and tossed them onto my desk, clicking his tongue. “Tsk, you look even uglier without them.” Getting involved with him only led to bad endings. I had no reason to invite trouble. I put my glasses back on and told Chloe, “I won’t be your shield. If you don’t want me tutoring you anymore, you can explain that to your parents yourself.” Chloe nodded distractedly, pulling a Tupperware container from her backpack and shoving it at me. “Eat both of these. Don’t waste them! My mom worked hard cooking this!” Mrs. Davis was grateful for the tutoring, so whenever she packed dinner for Chloe, she packed a portion for me too. Before I could say another word, Chloe ran off toward Caleb, shouting, “Hey, wait up!” In my past life, she ignored my warnings and went out with him anyway. He took her ditching, causing her already poor grades to tank further. When Mrs. Davis asked me what was going on, I couldn’t stomach the lie and told her everything. Furious, her parents pulled her out of our school and sent her to a strict, lockdown-style prep academy to keep an eye on her. Right before graduation, she and Caleb planned to elope. Her mom caught her, so she never made it. And that very night, Caleb died in an accident. Chloe threatened to end her own life over it. Desperate, her family sold their house and moved abroad with her so she could study there. When I saw her again six years later, she was a somewhat famous dancer—beautiful, elegant, captivating with every smile. When we talked about the past, she laughed and said, “I was just too young and foolish back then. You were just looking out for me.” Pushed together by our parents, we grew closer, fell in love, married, and had a baby. Until a massive truck came barreling toward us, and instinct took over as I shoved her and our daughter out of the way. But as I was being loaded into the ambulance, Chloe leaned into my ear and whispered the truth. “The kid isn’t yours. Every time you went on a business trip, I brought men home. “I never loved you. I only married you to ruin you. Do you have any idea what these past years have been like for me? Every time I think of him, my heart hurts so much I want to die. “Trading your life to save someone else’s kid—you deserve this, Ethan! You killed the love of my life, and this is your karma!” I died looking into her eyes, which were filled with nothing but pure hatred. Worse, in my previous life, trying to save her had dragged me through hell. Caleb brought his crew to the AP classrooms constantly to corner me. He wrote ‘SNITCH’ on my desk and exams, and tried to force me to crawl between his legs. When I refused, he pinned me against the teacher’s podium and beat me. I tried to fight back, but he had too many guys with him. Any resistance just meant a worse beating. The harassment only paused when a teacher intervened. It was endless. Back then, I was just a sensitive, inexperienced teenager. The bullying wrecked my focus. When Caleb died, Chloe blamed the entire tragedy on me. I took the most important exam of my life drowning in guilt, pain, and anxiety. When the results came out, I had dropped out of the top thirty in the school for the first time ever, landing in a mediocre, bottom-tier state college. It was the biggest regret of my life. But this time, I was getting into the Ivy League. God had given me a chance to hit the reset button, and I was going to give it everything I had. The next time I saw Chloe was in the stairwell of the gym. I had just finished P.E. and was sent by the coach to put the equipment away. Chloe was wearing a cheap faux-leather jacket, a row of metal cuffs up her ear, and heavy, exaggerated smoky makeup. I hadn’t seen her in a while. The arts track classrooms were two floors away from the AP track. If she didn’t come looking for me, we naturally never crossed paths. Besides, I was busy studying. I had zero interest in the school rumor mill. Seeing me, Chloe expertly put a cigarette to her lips and blew out a cloud of smoke. She looked no different from the sketchy dropouts hanging around street corners. How could I have forgotten? She always thought this stuff was cool. As an only child, her parents had kept her on a very short leash. She was raised to be the perfect, obedient daughter. But sometimes, when she heard the roar of street racers outside her window, she’d lean out, watch them, and sigh, “So cool. That’s what being young is all about.” Deep down, she had always harbored a rebellious streak. Caleb’s arrival was like dropping a chunk of sodium into still water—it exploded with fire and light. That intense reaction scrambled her brain and gave her permission to unleash her true self. Seeing this group of delinquent-looking kids, Maya, our class monitor who was walking next to me, froze and shrank behind my shoulder. Our conversation about the math decathlon problems abruptly stopped. I gave her a reassuring look and said, “Maya, why don’t you head back to class? There isn’t that much stuff left. I can carry the rest to the equipment room myself.” Maya looked at me gratefully, then glanced at the hostile-looking group in front of us. After a brief hesitation, she said, “It’s fine. Let’s just go together.” Chloe clicked her tongue in annoyance. One of the guys behind her immediately barked, “Can’t you see our girl has something to say to him? Get lost if you know what’s good for you!” Chloe smirked, clearly enjoying the tough-guy act on her behalf. I told Maya, “It’s okay. Head back. I’ll have that decathlon problem solved for you before study hall.” Once Maya scurried away, Chloe raised an eyebrow and asked, “Ethan, I heard you’ve been getting awfully cozy with some girl lately. Was that her?” They rearranged the seating chart last week, and Maya ended up next to me. She had squeaked into our AP class with the lowest qualifying score. She lacked a strong foundation, but she worked incredibly hard. Hard work always pays off eventually. Since I was doing better in class, she often asked me questions. Sometimes, even if we bumped into each other in the cafeteria, she’d come over with a textbook. But I didn’t owe Chloe an explanation about my life. So I said, “None of your business. Tell your friends to move. I have to get to class.” Chloe sounded almost whiny as she said, “What do you mean, none of my business? We grew up together! How could you get a girlfriend and not tell me?” “No offense, but your class monitor is kind of chubby. If you date her, it’ll be embarrassing to take her anywhere! I don’t know what you see in her.” She scrunched up her nose, looking utterly disgusted. “Of course, if you found a girlfriend as pretty as me, I definitely wouldn’t stop you.” She blew a smoke ring right at my face, a teasing smile on her lips. Caught off guard, I inhaled the harsh smoke and doubled over, coughing violently until tears streamed down my face. I had asthma. Strong chemical smells or smoke easily triggered it. Chloe knew this perfectly well, yet she did it anyway. She and the guys behind her burst out laughing. It suddenly hit me: Chloe had known all along that I had a crush on her. That was exactly why, in my past life, she used my feelings as a weapon to destroy me. And like an idiot, I thought she had actually fallen for me and recognized my worth. I was so incredibly wrong. It took me a minute to catch my breath before I stood up straight. “Maya is a great person and she’s incredibly smart. Looks aren’t the only way to judge someone’s value. “She and I are just classmates. Not everyone makes high school entirely about who they’re dating.” I didn’t hold back. Chloe’s expression darkened, and she tossed her cigarette onto the ground. “Ethan, you’re so boring!” She kicked over the plastic bin I was carrying, sending shuttlecocks scattering all over the floor. As if that wasn’t enough, she deliberately stepped on several of them as she walked past me. The guys with her mimicked her, stomping on the shuttlecocks as they followed. I stood there, looking at the crushed plastic and feathers on the floor, feeling a strange sense of emptiness. What kind of person had I been in love with all those years? Senior year flew by, and midterms were right around the corner. Soon, I’d be able to test exactly how much my hard work had paid off. I scarfed down my dinner, trying to save time. But just as I stepped out of the cafeteria, I ran into Chloe. She grabbed my arm. “I knew you’d be here! Ethan, you have to help me!” My first instinct was to pull away, but she gripped tighter. “Exams are coming up and I haven’t studied at all! If I bomb this, I’m dead! My mom will definitely ship me off to one of those lockdown prep schools! “Then how am I supposed to see Caleb? I’ll die without him. “Ethan, please, please help me. Let me borrow your notes. I swear I’ll actually study them!” The same pitiful, damsel-in-distress act. She assumed I’d never say no to her. I gave it to her straight. “Didn’t you say you didn’t need me to tutor you anymore? I haven’t been taking detailed notes lately.” It was the truth. I kept the key concepts in my head and reinforced them by running practice drills. Writing out pretty notes was a waste of time. Besides, the notes I did jot down for myself were shorthand, skipping basic steps. She wouldn’t understand them anyway. A flash of relief crossed her face. “That’s fine, as long as you’re willing to help. I need the notes ASAP. Stay up tonight and organize them for me. Pulling an all-nighter should be enough.” “Give them to me tomorrow, got it? Otherwise, I won’t have enough time to memorize everything.” She had planned out exactly how to use me before she even walked over. I shook my head. “I can’t help you. If I pull an all-nighter, I’ll be a zombie all week. It’ll ruin my focus for the exams.” Looking completely shocked that I had refused, Chloe furrowed her brow, her voice growing shrill. “What do you mean you can’t stay up?! When you agreed to tutor me, you stayed up all night making study guides! Why can’t you do it now?!” She looked so entitled. As if I existed solely to take her orders, as if I owed her endless, unconditional indulgence. I made it crystal clear. “That was before. Back when you actually wanted to learn. The way you are now… I’m not wasting my time.” Chloe glared at me furiously, pointing a finger right in my face as she screamed: “Fine! You think you’re so great just because you can read a damn book! Let me tell you, valedictorians don’t become the bosses in the real world! “With your garbage social skills, if you think you’re going to make it big, keep dreaming!” Her words meant nothing to me. What could she possibly say that would hurt more than what she said to me in my past life? She spat her venom, but as she walked away, she purposely slowed her steps. She was waiting for me to chase after her. Waiting for me to apologize and cave, to say I’d stay up and write the notes. Just like I had done so many times before. I did call out to her. Chloe turned around, crossing her arms, wearing a triumphant smirk. I continued, “Oh right, you haven’t told your parents that we canceled tutoring, have you? If you don’t tell them, I will.” “I’m a terrible liar. If they ask me why, it’s highly likely I’ll let the truth slip.” Hearing this, Chloe’s face turned livid. “Damn it, Ethan, you’re gonna pay for this!” She looked at me like she wanted me dead. But I really didn’t care anymore. Between her and my future, I was picking my future. I should have woken up a long time ago. After evening study hall, the second I stepped out of the school gates, a deafening motorcycle engine roared. Caleb, with Chloe on the back of his bike, stopped right in front of me, blocking the sidewalk. A whole gang of colorful-haired delinquents pulled up behind them. I asked, “Can I help you?” Caleb just sneered at me. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and one of his guys immediately rushed forward to light it for him. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, tilting his chin up. “You pissed off my girl? Pretty brave for a four-eyed nerd.” Chloe wrapped her arms around his waist, looking incredibly smug. “Ethan, apologize right now. And write up those study notes for me tonight. If you do, I’ll tell my boyfriend to let you off the hook.” What a blatant shakedown. I never realized she could be this shameless. Or maybe she had been this way all along. It was just my crush on her that had painted her in a golden, flawless light. I let out a slow sigh. “I don’t want any trouble. But Chloe, I’ve kept my mouth shut about everything you’re doing. If I tell your parents, do you really think you’ll still be living this carefree lifestyle?” The smirk froze on Chloe’s face. I kept going. “You know exactly how fiercely protective your parents are. If they find out you’re running around with a gang and dating this guy, will they ever let you leave the house again?” Caleb looked entirely dismissive. “So what if they know? Worst case, I show up at their front door to meet the in-laws. With a son-in-law as awesome as me, they should consider themselves lucky!” The delusion was almost impressive. Chloe, humiliated and enraged, threw an empty cigarette box at my head. “You really think I give a crap about your stupid notes?! Keep your nerd crap! I have my own ways, just you watch! “Let’s go, babe!” Caleb threw a mock punch in the air at me before revving his engine and speeding off, his entire crew trailing noisily behind him. That night, Mrs. Davis called me. “Ethan, sweetie, thank you so much for tutoring Chloe lately. You have excellent grades, and with college applications coming up, you really need to spend more time focusing on yourself.” Chloe had definitely spun a story. No doubt she painted it like I was too obsessed with my own grades to bother helping her anymore. She was the one slacking off, yet she pinned the blame squarely on me. But whatever. At least now, whatever happened to her going forward, her parents couldn’t blame me for it. Her life was officially none of my business. Midterms wrapped up, and the school gave us a rare half-day off. I went home, caught up on sleep, ate dinner, and headed back to school for evening study hall. As soon as I walked into the classroom, I heard the gossip. “Did you guys hear? Chloe and Caleb got caught cheating on the exams! The school is calling their parents in!” So this was the “own way” Chloe had bragged about. “And guess what happened next? Chloe literally dropped to her knees in front of the dean, begging him not to tell her folks! Caleb thought she was being embarrassing, kicked a desk, and just walked out on her!” “Then what? What happened?” “Then—get this—the dean actually let it go!” “No way, seriously?” “I mean, look at her. She’s gorgeous, great body, crying her eyes out like a damsel in distress. What guy wouldn’t cave? The dean’s only human.” I couldn’t stand listening to it anymore. “Watch your mouth.” The guy who was talking scoffed. “She doesn’t even like you, why are you still defending her? Ethan, you’ve played the pathetic lapdog for so long you actually think it’s romantic, huh?” He was being completely aggressive, making the people around him snicker. “I’m not defending anyone; I’m just stating facts. Just because it’s the 21st century doesn’t mean you can spew garbage rumors like that.” The guy thrived on attention, so getting called out made him snap. “Ethan! You looking for a fight?!” “Gentlemen use their words. Resorting to fists just because you can’t win an argument is pretty pathetic.” Having worked in corporate America for years in my past life, dealing with sarcastic passive-aggression was second nature. These high school kids couldn’t touch me. Right then, Maya shouted, “The rankings are out!” Instantly, the tension evaporated. Everyone swarmed Maya. It was completely packed. Maya sighed. “Give me some space, guys! Let me tape the sheet to the wall first, then you can look.” I really wanted to see my score, but there was no way I was fighting that crowd. Might as well review some vocabulary while they finish up. Maya walked over to my desk and handed me a slip of paper. My grades were written on it. “I copied them down for you. No big deal. Ethan, you killed it! Ninth in the whole grade!” Ninth in the grade! Even at my absolute best in my past life, I only ever made it to eleventh. It was true: when you put your head down and shut out the noise, the hard work pays off. I stretched my arms over my head, took a breath, and dove right back into my textbooks. The semester blew by. Time felt like it was on fast-forward, moving almost too quickly to catch my breath. My dad looked at my final report card, beaming. “Sixth in the grade! Awesome job, son. Keep this up, and the Ivy League is in the bag.” I nodded. “I’ll keep pushing.” My goal was a top-tier Ivy, so I still had work to do. My mom chimed in with a sigh, “It’s such a shame about the Davis girl. She was just diagnosed with depression. She has absolutely no interest in school anymore, and her grades have completely tanked. Her parents are stressing out, wondering if they should have her take a gap year and try for college next year.” Depression? She really knew how to find an excuse for herself.

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1 The first time I flew on a plane piloted by my husband, I was met by the flight crew. They smiled, “What a rare sight! Looks like Miles finally saved a ticket for you this time, ma’am.” I smiled back, “Nope, I snagged it myself.” Miles always reserved one ticket, and every single time, it went to his childhood friend, Scarlett Thorne. Even when my father was critically ill, and I needed to fly back to see him one last time. I never got that ticket. “Got it, got it. Must be for your wedding anniversary, giving Miles a surprise, right, Mrs. Shaw?” “After you land, Mrs. Shaw, you should ask Miles to take you to Crystal Lake. It’s absolutely stunning. He always takes amazing pictures of Scarlett there, they get hundreds of thousands of likes on social media.” I’d seen them. When I unexpectedly miscarried our first child and couldn’t reach Miles. I used to dream of it. Through years of broken promises, Crystal Lake became nothing more than a blue and white dream. “Don’t tell Miles I’m on the plane,” I said. They all nodded. “Understood, understood. A surprise, right?” “Miles will definitely be surprised.” Surprised? Perhaps. After all, I was going to find the most reputable obstetrics and gynecology hospital to terminate my last child with him. I no longer needed Crystal Lake. I wanted my freedom. … I only managed to grab an economy class seat. And even then, it was through a favor, costing me a hefty sum. As I was about to board, hurried footsteps sounded behind me. A girl ran up, panting, slapping her boarding pass onto the staff’s counter. “Oh? Scarlett, I thought you weren’t coming today.” Scarlett braced her hands on her knees, then lifted her flushed face, smiling at him. “Of course, I’d come.” “I’ve flown with Miles for six years. Have you ever seen me miss a flight?” I quietly stepped back a little. “Besides, he promised to take me to that trendy restaurant tonight,” Scarlett said. The staff hesitated, glancing at me, then at her. I subtly shook my head. Given Scarlett’s personality, she didn’t like her plans disrupted. Though she wouldn’t say anything out loud, she’d remember it, like a pebble in her shoe, occasionally acting out to annoy you. But she didn’t bother me. She bothered Miles. Miles and I had several arguments because of her, the worst time, I left home, and he, in a huff, didn’t come looking for me. A month-long cold war almost led to divorce. “Isabelle,” Scarlett noticed me. “What are you doing here?” My gaze fell on the necklace around her neck, a piece I had admired for a long time. Miles had lied to me, saying it was sold to someone else. Turns out, he gave it to Scarlett. “Shouldn’t I be here?” I countered. The girl pouted. “I’m just worried about you. At least let Miles get you a business class seat.” “Your back isn’t good, and you’re sitting so far back…” “You don’t need to worry about me,” I cut her off. Scarlett said nothing more, pushing past me and walking through the VIP channel. The door opened, revealing Miles standing in the jet bridge, waiting. Scarlett jogged over and hugged his arm. “Miles!” “That was close, I almost missed this flight today.” Miles gently ruffled her hair, smiling. “It’s no big deal.” “If you want to fly, I can always save a spot for you. This time is no different.” I was used to this scene. I should have stopped feeling the pain, become numb to it. The door slowly closed. From beginning to end, Miles never noticed me standing in the front row. “Miles Miller.” The door reopened. I didn’t understand why I called out to him. Perhaps when a person is at their most vulnerable, they instinctively seek support, just like when I had a severe hemorrhage after my miscarriage, and, in my delirium, kept calling Miles’s name. Miles looked at me, his eyes filled with surprise. “What are you doing here?” The exact same words as Scarlett. Was it so strange for me, his wife, to be by my husband’s side? A thousand words caught in my throat. When they finally reached my lips, only one sentence remained: “Don’t mind me. You two have fun.” 2 After boarding, Miles sent me a message. 【Are you upset?】 I wanted to ask him back, should I be happy? Should I applaud and cheer as I watched the boundless intimacy between him and Scarlett, their care and actions exceeding those of mere friends? The words were typed into the chatbox, then I deleted them one by one. It was pointless now. Even my hysterical questioning back then couldn’t elicit a single explanation. No matter how much I cried, argued, or even threatened, Miles still contacted Scarlett, still treated her well. It only made me look like a shrew. 【Don’t leave after we land. Scarlett and I will come find you. Let’s go to Crystal Lake together.】 【You’ve been talking about it for years. Go see it for yourself.】 I turned off my phone. The moment we landed, I went straight to the hospital. The surgery had been pre-booked; I could have it done immediately. When I woke, the sky was completely dark. Miles had called me, and sent messages, but I hadn’t been able to answer any of them. 【Who upset you? Throwing a tantrum again.】 【Never mind, I won’t wait for you. Scarlett’s celebrating her piano award today. I don’t want to argue with you on such an important day.】 Today was also our wedding anniversary. Only, Miles never remembered it. The next morning, I quietly handled my discharge papers alone, then took a lonely flight back to King’s Landing. Miles’s social media updated. It was a photo of Scarlett and a cat. The caption: “Little cat and you, both adorable.” A long time ago, Miles mentioned wanting a cat, but I’m allergic to cat fur. So he kept the cat at Scarlett’s place. Every day after work, his first stop wasn’t home, but Scarlett’s to play with the cat. They bathed the cat together, took it out for sun, and in front of it, called themselves Mom and Dad. What was I then? What was the child in my womb? I remember shortly after my miscarriage, Scarlett brought the cat to me, flaunting it. I had just suffered a major blow and was weak from illness, so I could only lie in bed, crying silently, unable to even make a sound. That cat even triggered my allergies. But Miles brushed it off, saying Scarlett was just being thoughtless, and swept the whole thing under the rug. 【I’ll be back tomorrow. Do you want any souvenirs?】 The pop-up message pulled my thoughts back. I glanced at the bag at the bottom of my closet. It was full of gifts Miles brought back for me when he and Scarlett went on trips. Fridge magnets and trinkets easily bought at tourist spots, beaded bracelets with misprinted names, and jade scraps Scarlett used for her own bracelets, then carved a few small beads for me. Too bad to throw away, but just taking up space to keep. I typed: 【No, thanks.】 The other side displayed “typing…” for a long time. Then, the chatbox fell silent. 3 When Miles returned, I was on the balcony, trying to save a few nearly dead flowers. “I asked you to buy some fertilizer to sprinkle on them. Did you forget?” He glanced at them. “Yeah.” “It wasn’t really on the way to the flower market, so I didn’t buy it.” I turned away, choosing not to look at him. I tenderly snipped the discolored branches. I knew it. I’d been meticulously caring for these flowers every day, but they weren’t getting better. Turns out, he hadn’t even buried any fertilizer. “If they’re dead, they’re dead,” he said. “Tonight I’ll drive you to the flower market, and we can buy some more.” “Just pull them out now. I’m going downstairs to take out the trash, can toss them along the way. The vase is pretty, we can keep…” “Shut up!” I yelled. Anyone would be angry if their beloved possession was treated with such disregard. Miles stopped speaking. He ignored me, carrying a large bag of groceries, and turned to the kitchen to cook. I didn’t even change my slippers, immediately went downstairs, and took a taxi to the flower market. “Owner, can you tell me if there’s any hope for these?” I showed the owner a picture of the flowers. He examined them for a while, then shook his head. “Get a new pot. Your flowers are in bad shape. I have plenty that are much better.” The owner suddenly looked up at me. “…You look familiar.” “Ah! I remember now! Your husband used to come here every day to buy you flowers.” “How come he hasn’t been around for almost two years?” I lowered my eyes, not answering the owner’s question. Just looking at the flowers on the screen. Two years. They no longer bloomed as beautifully as they did when Miles first gave them to me. Many leaves had fallen, and the flowers grew smaller and smaller. Of course, I knew they weren’t pretty enough anymore. But Miles never gave me new ones. So, they withered little by little in the pot, until they were beyond saving. “Alright.” I turned off my phone. “Show me some other flowers. I’ll get a new pot.” 4 As soon as I returned with the new flowers, Miles said to me, “You’re so impulsive.” “Didn’t eat dinner, didn’t say goodbye, just ran off.” “And you’re pregnant. What if someone pushed you and you fell in a place like that?” I ignored him. Walked onto the balcony and busied myself with the flowers. Miles went into the kitchen to reheat the food. After he finished, I finally sat at the dining table, surveying the spread. Meat broth with green onions floating in it, steamed eggs with a milky smell, and asparagus, which I detested, mixed into the cold salad. My appetite vanished instantly. I couldn’t help but ask, “Miles Miller, it’s been six years. Don’t you know what I can’t eat?” “What?” “I hate green onions; they have a weird smell. And why did you steam the eggs with milk? I’m lactose intolerant, it’ll give me an upset stomach. This asparagus is what I hate most; I’ve told you at least ten times. I hate it, I hate it! Why can’t you remember?! Why?!” My already gloomy mood tonight was subtly reaching its breaking point. It was crashing headfirst, looking for an outlet. “It’s not that serious…” “I remember all your habits and preferences. What about you? How can you forget even the simplest things?” I slammed my chopsticks on the table. He buried his head, silently eating his dinner. Just like before, resorting to avoidance, leaving me to process my negative emotions alone. I stood up, walked to Miles, grabbed his arm, and pulled up his sleeve. Revealing a hair tie on his wrist. “How can you remember that Scarlett always forgets her hair tie?” I opened his bag, dumping everything out. Sanitary pads, mosquito patches, a cartoon water bottle… all sorts of things. “Wow, you’re so thoughtful, Mr. Thoughtful,” I laughed. “She says one thing, and you treat it like gospel.” “Who exactly is your wife?” Miles swallowed his food, took a deep breath. Then he spoke, his tone flat. “Are you crazy?” “I’ve made dinner. Eat if you want, otherwise I’ll take you out to eat, or we can order takeout.” “There’s no need to drag Scarlett into this.” “Or maybe I’ll take you to the hospital tomorrow to get some medication. It feels like your pregnancy hormones are unstable, and you’re constantly getting angry for no reason. It’s tiring everyone out.” Suddenly, I had nothing more to say. I was tired too. “I have a flight tomorrow. I don’t want to argue with you,” he said. “Okay,” I nodded. “Then let’s sleep in separate rooms.” 5 I heard Miles talking to Scarlett on the balcony. The girl was saying playful things, making him laugh. They were discussing where to go for their vacation; Miles’s annual leave was in a month. “I want to go to Florence.” “Anything you want, I’m just there to accompany you,” Miles chuckled. “What about Isabelle, then?” “She’s pregnant, it’s not convenient for her to travel. I’ll hire a nanny to take care of her at home,” Miles paused. “After the first child miscarried like that, she has a trauma from it.” “I’ve spent a lot of energy these past few years taking her to doctors, for both therapy and physical conditioning. She finally got pregnant again, so nothing can go wrong with this one.” I couldn’t help but wonder what his expression would be if he knew the baby was already gone. Would he be as indifferent as usual? Would he cry? Would he hate me? Or would he forgive me, just as he forgave Scarlett when she caused my miscarriage back then? I pulled the blanket over my head and slowly drifted off to sleep. But the sounds of a thunderstorm, unbefitting a peaceful night, filled my ears. I was nearing my due date, already admitted to the hospital. That night, Scarlett called. She was crying and yelling on the other end, and I could only vaguely make out Miles’s name. My heart pounded wildly. “What happened to Miles?!” “Hello? Speak up! What happened to him?!” The call disconnected. When I tried calling back, no one answered. Miles’s phone was also off. I, heavily pregnant, ran towards home in the pouring rain, crying and shouting Miles’s name. Countless horrifying conjectures flashed through my mind. Did he get into a car accident? Did the gas explode while he was making me soup? I was terrified, my body cold and numb, biting down hard to run back home. But when I opened the door. They were having a party. Miles, who was princess-carrying Scarlett as part of a dare, met my eyes, which were red from the rain. Drip—drip— At first, I thought there was a leak somewhere. I looked down and saw blood all over the floor, only then realizing it was me. In the end, I suffered a severe hemorrhage and almost didn’t make it off the operating table. The baby had suffocated to death. I overheard the nurse say that when the baby was delivered, his face was bruised purple. Of course, I didn’t get to see him. Because Miles had already taken care of it. “How could you! How could you?!” “That was my flesh and blood! My child, carried for ten months. Why couldn’t I see him… he was due in just a few days…” I cried hysterically. The police came, investigated the situation, and then I learned that Scarlett had lost a dare that night. It was a punishment she had devised herself. This matter, in a broad sense, was grave—it cost a human life. In a narrow sense, it was trivial—they were just playing a game. Miles signed a letter of understanding behind my back. He kept it a secret. When I asked, he said Scarlett had been sent for rehabilitation. Turns out, he secretly hid her at his old family home. If Scarlett hadn’t gotten drunk and let it slip last month, I would never have known. My heart died instantly. That’s why I decided to terminate the pregnancy again. 6 When I woke up the next day, Miles had already prepared breakfast. The milk in the cup had been replaced with soy milk, and the green onions in the omelet were gone. “I saved a ticket for you. The flight departs this afternoon.” Only then did I look up at him. “What for?” “To get some fresh air,” he said. “So you don’t stay cooped up at home all day, overthinking everything.” Miles fiddled with his phone for a moment. Then my phone rang. The screen showed a business class ticket. But I didn’t want it anymore. “Today I don’t have a round trip. I’ll land, wait four hours, then take another flight to Japan.” “It’s cherry blossom season soon. You like flowers, we can go see them.” I didn’t reply. His unusual behavior finally made sense at check-in. “Where’s Scarlett?” I hid in the crowd, listening to the staff’s casual chat. “Scarlett has something on today; she really couldn’t make it.” “What a shame. Scarlett was talking about wanting to see the cherry blossom rain, but Miles changed his flight for her, and she’s not going anymore.” “Not entirely a shame, I guess. Miles called his wife instead.” So, it was my turn when others didn’t want it. I said nothing, checked in and boarded as if nothing were amiss, found my seat, and slept until landing. Miles met me, explaining, “I have some matters to attend to. You wait at the airport for a bit.” “I’ll come find you soon.” I shook my head, saying flatly, “It’s fine. You go on with your work.” Watching his back disappear around the corner. Only then did I pull out the divorce agreement document I had prepared on my phone, found the nearest print shop, printed it, and signed my name. Then I took out the abortion certificate that had been in my bag. Finally, I folded them both and handed them to Miles’s assistant. “Tell him to have a good flight. He can look at these once he lands in Japan,” I said. The assistant nodded. “Mrs. Shaw, why don’t you come with me? I can transfer you.” “No need,” I declined. “I’m not a child, I won’t get lost.” “I’ll just wander around.” Wander around. That’s how I wandered to the boarding gate, and onto another plane. Through the window, I could see the plane Miles had just piloted, growing smaller, until it became a tiny dot and vanished. By the time this flight landed, his must have landed too. As the announcement sounded. I picked up my bag and got off the plane. Only then did my phone get signal. Messages flooded in, one after another.

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1 Sebastian always believed that love should only take up ten percent of a person’s life. As my boss and my partner, he executed this theory to absolute perfection. I was his executive secretary for five years. I drank myself into hospital beds just to secure his contracts. I stayed up until three in the morning managing his overseas conference calls. He accepted all my sacrifices as his absolute right. He never once offered a single word of comfort, claiming it was simply my job description. That was until half a month ago, when I, the employee with a perfect attendance record, requested three sick days in a row. Sebastian assumed I had caught a minor bug and was using it to play the victim. “The company is in a critical phase right now. Can you please act like an adult?” Those were the last words he left me before slamming the front door. He had no idea that on that very day, I was lying completely alone in a sterile operating room, losing our baby. Sebastian was a workaholic. He truly was busy. Busy enough to pause a multimillion dollar board meeting just to instantly reply to a text message from his new intern. That ten percent he constantly preached about was exclusively reserved for me. For others, he could effortlessly offer a hundred percent of his patience and favoritism, anywhere and anytime. Later, a crisp resignation letter appeared on his mahogany desk. Mr. Wright, you can keep your ten percent. I do not want it anymore. … The electronic lock beeped softly, and the door swung open. I thought Sebastian had finally remembered to come check on me. But there was someone else trailing closely behind him. It was the new intern, Lily. She was draped in Sebastian’s tailored suit jacket. He held a black umbrella over her with one hand, while his other hand hovered protectively over her waist. “Mr. Wright, do you think we are disturbing Serena’s rest?” Lily peeked out from behind his broad shoulders, her voice sickeningly sweet and timid. “No.” Sebastian closed the umbrella. His gaze completely bypassed her and landed coldly on me. “She is not that fragile.” I was curled up on the living room sofa. The heavy, pulling agony in my lower abdomen had me drenched in a cold sweat. “Go get the flash drive for Lily.” Sebastian did not even bother to take off his shoes before barking orders at me. “She needs it for her presentation tomorrow.” He did not visit me in the dead of night because he was worried I was dying from a three day illness. He only came because his precious intern made a mistake at work, and his heart ached for her. So he personally drove her here to retrieve the files from me. I forced myself to stand up from the couch. The extreme dizziness from severe blood loss made me stumble violently. I crashed into the glass cup on the coffee table. It shattered across the hardwood floor. “Ah.” Lily let out a terrified gasp, instinctively shrinking back. In a fraction of a second, Sebastian pulled her tightly into his chest, his brows locked in a furious scowl. The look he shot me was dripping with pure disgust. “Serena, what the hell is wrong with you? It is just a minor cold. Who are you putting on this pathetic act for?” I stared numbly at the hands he used to shield Lily. Five years ago, when I drank myself into a gastric perforation for him and vomited blood all over my clothes, he merely handed me a paper towel. His tone had been flat. “Good work today, Serena.” Now, Lily was simply startled by the sound of breaking glass, and he treated her like a fragile, priceless treasure. Suddenly, the deep, raw wound in my womb stopped hurting. All that was left was an ice cold chill that seeped into my very bones. I did not say a word. I pulled out the silver flash drive and handed it over. Lily reached out to take it. Her hand trembled, and the drive slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the floor. Sebastian’s face darkened instantly. He grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. “Serena. Do you honestly think that just because you handed in a resignation letter, I will not do anything to you?” “Throwing a tantrum at a rookie. Where is your professional courtesy?” “Mr. Wright, please do not blame her. It was my fault.” Lily’s eyes welled up with tears as she hurriedly crouched down to pick up the drive. “Do not touch the broken glass.” Sebastian dropped my wrist like it burned him and bent down to grab the drive before she could. When he turned back to her, his voice was so gentle it could melt ice. “Now that we have it, let’s go. It is getting late. I will drive you back to your apartment.” From beginning to end, he never noticed that I was in so much pain I did not even have the strength to stand up straight. He definitely did not notice the dark, crimson blood slowly seeping through the edge of my gray sweatpants. The door clicked shut. I collapsed backward, landing directly in the pile of broken glass. Sharp shards pierced my palms, but I felt absolutely nothing. He gave his hundred percent to someone else. And left me with his measly ten percent, acting like it was a royal blessing I should beg for. I stared at the fresh blood welling up in my hands, slowly uncurled my fingers, and let out a broken laugh. 2 The moment the door closed, the last ounce of strength keeping me upright completely vanished. The blood pooling beneath me was spreading faster now. My body convulsed in absolute agony. I curled up on the cold floor, my vision blurring at the edges. The screen of my phone lit up. It was Sebastian’s name. For five years, this number had been pinned to the top of my contacts. It was my only lifeline whenever I ran into trouble. With blood stained fingers, I pressed the answer button. Just when I thought he was going to hang up, the line connected. “What is the password for the drive?” His voice came through the speaker, strictly business. I opened my mouth, gasping for air. “Sebastian… please, help me.” “Serena, are you done with this nonsense?” The temperature of his voice plummeted, thick with revulsion. “First you throw a fit in front of a new hire, and now you are playing the dying victim to get my attention? When exactly are you going to stop being hysterical?” I bit my lower lip so hard I could taste copper. Tears fell silently into the puddle of blood on the floor. “It hurts so much. Sebastian, I am bleeding… I am…” “Shut up.” He did not even want to hear the end of my sentence. “Do you really think acting pitiful will make me feel sorry for you?” In the background, I could faintly hear Lily’s soft, hesitant voice. “Mr. Wright, is Serena mad at me? Tell her I do not need the password. I can just stay up all night and rebuild the data.” “Just ignore her.” Whenever he spoke to her, Sebastian’s tone instantly shifted back to that sickeningly sweet gentleness. “She is just spoiled. Trying to use a password to hold me hostage. We do not need her to give it to us. I can guess it myself.” He brought the phone closer to his mouth, his tone turning to absolute frost. “Listen to me very carefully, Serena. You better show up at the office first thing tomorrow with that password and apologize to Lily.” “If you dare to no show, do not ever think about stepping foot in Wright Corporation again.” The abrupt dial tone echoed in the silent room, severing my final string of hope. I clutched the phone, and suddenly, I started to laugh. I laughed until my whole body shook. I laughed until my chest felt like it was tearing open. This was the man I had loved with my entire soul for five years. For him, I had my own flesh and blood surgically removed on a cold operating table. Five years of bleeding myself dry for him, completely obliterated by a few sweet words from an intern. My grip loosened, and the phone dropped into the bloody water. My eyelids felt like lead. Just a second before my consciousness entirely faded, a sharp buzzing vibrated against my wrist. It was my Apple Watch. The screen flashed a glaring red, counting down to automatically dial 911. How incredibly ironic. As I lay there dying, the only thing trying to save my life was a piece of cold metal and glass. 3 I opened my eyes to the blinding, sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. “You are awake.” A nurse walked over holding a clipboard, her voice laced with deep pity. “You are way too reckless, honey. You did not rest after your miscarriage, and you pushed yourself right into a severe hemorrhage. If the ambulance had been even a minute slower, you would have died on your living room floor last night.” “Where is your family? Why are you still here all alone?” “I do not have any family.” My voice was so hoarse it was barely a whisper. I could only offer a weak shake of my head. The nurse sighed heavily and decided not to press the issue. My memory violently yanked me back to New Year’s Eve two years ago. Wright Corporation had just secured the biggest deal of the year. Sebastian had too much to drink at the celebration, and I had to physically support him all the way back to the apartment. Inside the elevator, he had locked his fingers tightly with mine. Fueled by the alcohol, he leaned in and whispered against my ear. “Serena, once the company goes public, we will buy a penthouse in Tribeca. One with a massive terrace. And then… it will just be you and me.” In that fleeting moment, I actually believed I had finally found a home. Looking back now, it was nothing more than a drunken, casual reward he tossed my way to keep me loyal. But I had held onto it for so damn long. The phone on my pillow suddenly vibrated violently. Sebastian’s name flashed across the screen. I stared at the name that used to make my heart skip a beat. Now, all it invoked was a physical wave of nausea in my stomach. I did not pick up. The phone stubbornly rang three times before going silent. Immediately after, a text message popped up. Sebastian: Answer the phone. Do not make me tell you twice. He probably thought giving me the cold shoulder all morning was his way of letting me off the hook. I took a deep, trembling breath and swiped the answer icon. “Finally decided to pick up?” “Serena, your temper is really getting out of hand.” He spoke with a slow, arrogant drawl. “I told you to bring the password and apologize to the office last night, and you actually dared to pull a disappearing act on me.” I remained completely silent. I could feel the blood in my veins turning to ice. Last night, I bled out on the floor of my apartment and was mere minutes away from becoming a corpse. And all he thought was that I was playing some childish game of hard to get. “Cat got your tongue? Still throwing a tantrum over last night?” Sebastian let out a soft scoff. “Alright, that is enough. The password for the drive was my birthday. I figured it out.” “The presentation this morning was a massive success. Lily did a fantastic job leading it. She really did her mentor proud.” My heart fiercely contracted. “Sebastian.” “Did you call me just to brag about how you used my original drafts to turn your new favorite toy into a star?” “Serena.” His voice hardened, tinged with heavy displeasure. “Lily is just a rookie. What is the big deal about you showing her the ropes? You have been dragging out this stupid cold for four days now. Are you ever going to drop it?” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, vanishing into the stark white pillowcase. I almost lost my damn life. Yet he still firmly believed I was just acting like a jealous girlfriend. “What are you laughing at?” Sebastian was starting to sound incredibly annoyed. “Nothing.” “Is there anything else, Mr. Wright?” Dead silence stretched across the line for two entire seconds. “There is a celebration banquet tonight at the top floor of The Grand Regent.” He was clearly forcing himself to be patient. “Seven o’clock sharp. Clean yourself up and get there. I am willing to wipe the slate clean for the ridiculous way you have been acting these past few days.” “I can even pretend I never saw that resignation letter.” He was always so undeniably confident. Confident that all he had to do was crook his finger and throw me a tiny crumb of mercy. And I would come crawling back to him, wagging my tail like a loyal dog. “What if I refuse to go?” “Serena, my patience has its limits.” His voice became cold and unyielding as steel. “If you dare to no show tonight, then consider yourself permanently blacklisted from Wright Corporation.” “Okay.” I stared out the window at the heavy, gray clouds rolling over the city, giving him a single word in reply. The call ended. I slowly put the phone down and ruthlessly pulled the IV needle out of my hand. 4 I arrived at the banquet the next evening, exactly as scheduled. The only reason I could even stand upright was pure, unadulterated willpower. The grand double doors were slightly ajar, letting the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spill out into the corridor. “Mr. Wright, Serena has been by your side for five solid years. She is your right hand in business and takes perfect care of you at home.” “It has been half a decade. When are you finally going to make it official and invite us to the wedding?” My hand froze halfway to the brass door handle. Then, I heard Sebastian’s overly familiar voice. It was completely calm, carrying a hint of bored indifference. “Marriage? I have said it before. Love only makes up ten percent of my life.” “Besides, she has forgotten her place lately.” He paused, a trace of annoyance bleeding into his tone. “Throwing tantrums for days over a little cold. She is getting spoiled. Let her cool off for a few days, she will snap out of it.” Four years ago, I was hospitalized for emergency stomach surgery. He stood by my bed, refusing to even take a seat. He just frowned at my medical chart and said, “Serena, getting sick right now is stalling the project timeline. But remember, the work is never more important than you.” For the four years that followed that statement, even when my fever spiked to a hundred and four, I never once showed him a single ounce of weakness. My heart felt like it was being twisted by a serrated knife. I squeezed my eyes shut, gathered my remaining strength, and pushed the grand doors wide open. The boisterous ballroom fell into an instant, dead silence. Sebastian’s eyes cut through the crowd and locked onto me, his brows pulling into a deep frown. There was not a single shred of concern in his eyes. Only absolute disdain. His face darkened as he strode toward me, clearly ready to dress me down in front of everyone. But right at that moment, Lily, who was balancing two steaming glasses of mulled wine, suddenly tripped. She lunged forward, falling straight toward me. “Ah.” I was physically drained. I did not have a single ounce of energy to dodge her. But I didn’t need to. Because Sebastian’s bodily reflexes were lightyears faster than his logic. He lunged forward and yanked Lily aggressively into the safety of his chest. Without a second thought, he shot out his other hand and shoved me viciously in the shoulder. “Get out of the way.” He roared the words at me. Hit by that brutal force, my frail body flew backward. I slammed onto the marble floor with a sickening thud. Searing agony ripped through my entire body. I could only bite my lip until it bled to stop myself from screaming. Sebastian stood over me, looking down like I was trash on the sidewalk. “Serena, are you out of your mind? Do you not look where you are going? If you had burned Lily, could you afford to take the blame?” I curled up on the freezing marble. I looked up at his large hands, tightly clutching Lily’s waist in an overly protective grip. Once the initial wave of agony passed, the pain just evaporated. Under Sebastian’s glaring eyes. I forced my shattered body off the floor, inch by agonizing inch. I did not shed a single tear. I did not look at him with red rimmed eyes and beg for an explanation like I used to. I slowly reached into the pocket of my trench coat and pulled out a crisp, white envelope. I placed it gently onto the cocktail table next to me. “You are absolutely right, Mr. Wright. Love is only ten percent.” I pulled my pale, bloodless lips into a totally empty smile. “You can keep your ten percent. I do not want it anymore.” “I wish you and Lily a lifetime of happiness.”

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1 When Mom issued her seventh warning about my “biological clock,” she gave a final ultimatum: marry Declan by year’s end—or she’d arrange a match upstate. Declan barely looked up from his phone. “We’ll marry eventually. What’s the rush?” I counted the years I’d given him. Year one: I gave up a London fellowship for him, only to find him sharing an apartment with a female colleague. Year three: I ruined a setup Mom made; he swore he’d propose, then ditched me at our engagement dinner to care for that same woman when she got sick. Year eight: Mom’s guards dragged me home; I fell in the mud. Declan sat in his car with her in the passenger seat, drove off without helping, then later held me, promising this year we’d wed. Now, staring into his evasive eyes, I knew the truth—he didn’t want to marry me, and neither did I. In three days, I’d return upstate for the arranged marriage. … “Declan, I am out of time.” I had waited eight grueling years. My friends were all buying houses and chasing toddlers around their living rooms. I was the only one stuck in this humiliating limbo, battling my family’s ultimatums while begging a man to commit. Whenever my friends gave me those pitying looks, I would force a stiff smile. “He promised. He is going to do it.” The awkward silence of my friends, the vicious words from my mother, and Declan’s constant moving of the goalposts were tearing me apart piece by piece. Hearing my flat tone, Declan finally looked up from his aggressive texting. His phone screen was still lit. Audrey had just texted him, asking to carpool to the office. He never said no to her. In fact, he kept a pair of plush slippers in his passenger seat just for her, so she could kick off her heels and be comfortable for a twenty minute commute. He seemed to have completely forgotten that the passenger seat was supposed to be mine. Years ago, he had jokingly slapped a label with my name on the dashboard, bragging to his buddies. “This seat is reserved for the boss. Nobody else gets to sit here.” But lately? When a massive thunderstorm hit the city and I begged him to pick me up, he told me I was completely out of his way. He was busy driving Audrey home. I had to run six blocks in the pouring rain. I sat shivering in our apartment, sneezing violently while clutching a mug of hot water. Meanwhile, he lingered at Audrey’s place, meticulously blow drying her hair so she would not catch a chill. Pulling myself out of the memories, a bitter, acidic ache settled deep in my chest. “Louisa, I told you we are going to get married. Stop suffocating me, okay?” Declan furrowed his brows, his eyes flashing with unfiltered annoyance. “My career is just taking off. Are you really that desperate for a ring?” Desperate. That one cruel word completely erased eight years of my unwavering loyalty and sacrifice. The fading scratches on my arms throbbed faintly. My mother’s furious, disappointed face flashed in my mind. He never saw the immense pressure I carried for him. He never saw the physical bruises I took to defend our relationship. He never understood my desperate need to prove to my family that I hadn’t wasted my twenties on the wrong guy. Before I could form a response, his phone buzzed. The irritation on his face melted instantly, replaced by a soft, genuine smile. “Are you in the lobby? I will be right down.” “I made that artisan honey ginger tea you were craving the other day. I am bringing it down, you have to try it.” He bumped his shoulder roughly against mine as he grabbed the insulated thermos off the kitchen counter. He made it halfway to the door before realizing I had not stepped in front of him to demand an explanation, like I usually did. He paused, shifting his weight uncomfortably, and softened his voice. “Louisa, everything I promised you, I will do.” “Just give me a little more time, alright?” The old me would have interrogated him. How much more time? Which month? When are we booking a venue? Only when he patiently answered every question with a firm tone could I finally relax, gaslighting myself into believing he actually meant it. But tonight, I just offered him a small, empty smile. “Okay.” 2 The heavy front door clicked shut. Declan was gone, leaving the apartment suffocatingly quiet. Standing by the living room window, I watched Audrey do a little jog straight into his chest down on the sidewalk. He froze for a split second, but he didn’t push her away. Instead, he stripped off his tailored jacket and draped it over her shoulders. A sharp gust of wind rattled the windowpane, sending a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but sharing a roof with this man felt like living with a complete stranger. There used to be a time when a single sniffle from me would have him rushing over to wrap me in a thick blanket. Now, I could be sneezing my lungs out, surrounded by a mountain of used tissues, and he would just keep scrolling through his phone, reading articles about how single women could improve their apartment security. I had been so sick with a fever that I couldn’t even sit up in bed. I croaked his name, begging for a glass of water, but he was completely deaf to it. It wasn’t until I passed out from the fever and my friends realized I was ghosting their texts that they kicked my door in and dragged me to the ER. The doctors said my brain would have practically cooked if they had been an hour later. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the couch and closed my eyes. This was my home, yet it was absolutely contaminated with her presence. Audrey had lived with him for two years before I arrived. There were literally dozens of polaroids of the two of them pinned to the corkboard in the hallway. I still remember the day I flew thousands of miles to finally move in. I stood in the doorway, stiff and awkward, feeling like an intruder. Audrey was packing her bags, tossing out instructions like she owned him. “Well, now that the girlfriend is here, I should make myself scarce. I am moving out.” “Oh, by the way, Declan sleepwalks sometimes, so watch out for his swinging arms in the dark.” “And he needs hot milk right before bed, but an iced americano the second he wakes up. Don’t mix it up.” I could not even articulate how nauseous I felt in that moment. The girl standing in front of me wasn’t just a coworker. She was acting like a veteran wife handing over the reins. Later that evening, Declan’s coworker called my cell. He told me Declan had drank way too much at a corporate mixer and needed a ride. I gave a flat acknowledgment, knowing exactly what happened. Declan only drank himself into a stupor when he was taking shots for Audrey. He had a terrible stomach lining and avoided alcohol at all costs. But Audrey was his permanent exception. He had literally ended up in the hospital three times because of it, yet he still threw himself on the front lines to protect her at every single networking event. When I arrived at the upscale lounge, Declan was swaying on his feet. Yet he stood firmly in front of Audrey, gripping a shot glass. “Bullying the new girl? Really guys?” “I will take her shots. Line them up.” One of the senior managers chuckled, leaning against the bar. “Declan, the way you guard this girl, people might start thinking you are in love with her.” The entire booth erupted. People started happily gossiping about their dynamic at the office. How they always synced their lunch breaks. How he tracked her menstrual cycle better than she did, magically producing painkillers and a heating pad on her desk every single month. How they were an unspoken package deal at the annual gala, walking the red carpet arm in arm. I stood in the shadows, listening to all of this for the very first time. I had no idea he was capable of being so meticulously thoughtful. When I had brutal cramps, his only advice was a brief text telling me to drink warm water. Suddenly, someone brought my name up, and the table fell dead silent. A coworker sighed, clapping Declan on the shoulder. “Look man, you and Louisa have been together for eight years without a ring.” “Honestly, if the spark is gone, just cut her loose.” “Stop wasting her youth so you can both go find what you actually want.” Declan said absolutely nothing. He just nodded slowly, looking deep in thought, as if he was seriously considering the advice. Audrey’s ears flushed bright red. she pressed herself a little closer against his side, looking completely bashful. “Ma’am, can I help you find someone?” A passing waiter shattered the group’s silence. Declan’s head snapped up. His eyes locked onto me, his expression totally freezing. I just shook my head and turned toward the exit. Declan chased me out to the sidewalk, grabbing my arm. “Louisa, let me explain.” 3 “They were just messing around. I don’t feel that way about her.” “Audrey and I are strictly professional.” He looked so incredibly earnest, acting like I was the only woman in the universe for him. But I knew the game. This was just his standard damage control. Years ago, when he kept stalling the proposal, I threw fits. I packed my bags. I threatened to walk away. He would do exactly this. He would grip my hand, look me dead in the eye, and swear he was committed. Then, two days later, the proposal would be forgotten, and he would start working late to avoid me. Back then, I swallowed the disrespect because I wanted our eight years to mean something. But now? I was flying home to marry a stranger. I truly did not care anymore. I slipped my arm out of his grip, taking a deliberate step back. “It is fine. I believe you.” There was no screaming match. No tearful, heartbroken interrogation. Just a calm, dismissive nod. The sheer indifference made him visibly panic. He opened his mouth to speak, but Audrey rushed out of the lounge and planted herself right beside me, cutting him off. “Louisa, it really is not what it looks like.” “I have known Declan way longer than you have.” “If there was a spark between us, do you really think you would even be in the picture?” Her words were laced with toxic sweetness, carrying an unmistakable undertone of mockery. And she was right. I had seen the polaroids. They cooked together. They binged movies together. They hid under blankets and laughed through thunderstorms. She got to experience a version of Declan I never had access to. Every milestone I thought we hit, he had already practiced with her. If I threw a tantrum right now, I would just look like a bitter, paranoid girlfriend. “You are absolutely right.” “My mistake.” My deadpan response sucked the oxygen right out of the conversation. For the first time in his life, Declan didn’t put Audrey in an Uber and wait until she was safely inside her building. Instead, he gripped my hand and pulled me toward his car. The second we walked into the apartment, I headed straight for the bathroom. I just wanted a hot shower and sleep. Declan stepped in front of me, completely blocking the hallway. His jaw ticked with barely suppressed rage. “You are pissed.” “We have been together for eight years. Do you honestly think I don’t know when you are giving me the silent treatment?” “Then why did you take shots for her?” The exhaustion cracked my composure, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “She is a lightweight. Did you want them to force alcohol down her throat?” “Are you blind? The whole department was trying to set you two up. They were doing it on purpose.” Declan wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what his coworkers were doing. But he loved the ego trip. He loved playing the knight in shining armor for Audrey. He thrived on the cheers from his buddies and the pure adoration shining in Audrey’s eyes. My private humiliation was a price he was more than willing to pay. “We are all coworkers. Why does your mind have to be so twisted?” Declan let out a long, exhausted sigh, framing me as the hysterical villain. “I took a few drinks for her. That doesn’t mean we are sleeping together. Why are you so damn obsessed with this?” “Who knows, maybe tomorrow you will be.” “Louisa.” My dry laugh was cut off by his furious roar. His chest heaved, his temper flaring right to the edge. Then, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen just once. Instantly, he turned on his heel, grabbing his keys. “See? I can never get you to stay.” “Even when I am standing right in front of you.” Declan stopped by the door, but he refused to look back at me. “You are acting completely unhinged right now. You need to cool off.” It was always the same script. Every time he abandoned me, he made sure to diagnose me as the problem first. When my mother’s guards threw me to the pavement, he was standing ten feet away. He called it a “private family dispute,” said he didn’t want Audrey caught in the crossfire, and drove away without checking if I was bleeding. On the day we were supposed to get engaged, he bailed to play nurse for Audrey. Later, he blamed my mother for making too many demands, using it as his excuse to bolt. And now, one single text from Audrey, and he was walking out the door. I didn’t try to block his path. As his hand hit the doorknob, I spoke very softly. “You don’t need to marry me anymore. I am marrying someone else.” 4 Declan didn’t come home that night. The next morning, I was just hanging up the phone after confirming my flight with my mother when the front door finally opened. He stood in the entryway, kicking off his shoes, sounding totally bored. “Where are you going?” “Family emergency?” I tossed my phone onto the counter and lied without blinking. “My mom is having some health issues. I need to go upstate to check on her.” He bought it immediately, launching right into a lecture. “Good. While you are there, talk some sense into her. Tell her to stop harassing us about a wedding.” “Does she want you to be happy, or is she just trying to sell you off to the highest bidder?” I let out a flat “Yeah,” and walked into the bedroom to pull out my luggage. Declan trailed behind me. When he saw me clearing out my entire side of the closet, a frown pulled at his lips. “How long are you staying? You are packing half the room.” “Not long.” “What time is your train? I will drive you.” “Flight. Out of JFK. Three o’clock.” He went completely quiet, a conflicted shadow passing over his face. I zipped the suitcase shut and stood it upright before he finally spoke. “I have a meeting at three. Do you want me to call you a black car so you can get there yourself?” “Just text me your return flight, and I will definitely be at the airport to pick you up. Deal?” There is no return flight. I kept the thought locked in my head. My face betrayed absolutely nothing. I gave him a bright, easy smile. “It is fine. I can get an Uber.” Right on cue, the doorbell rang. Before I could even take a step, the person on the other side unlocked the deadbolt and walked right in. That was the moment I realized he had given her a key. He had let her keep it for years. So all those times I came back from girls’ trips and noticed the furniture slightly rearranged or a different scent in the air. I wasn’t going crazy. “Louisa. Today is my birthday, and I really wanted Declan to celebrate with me.” Audrey stood in the foyer, fully glammed up, flashing me a sugar sweet smile. “You don’t mind, do you?” Everything finally clicked into place. The velvet jewelry box I found hidden in his sock drawer last week wasn’t for me. The email receipt for nine hundred and ninety nine roses I saw pop up on his tablet wasn’t for me either. He could buy diamond rings for a “purely professional” colleague, but couldn’t commit to the woman who gave him her entire twenties. He didn’t even remember that yesterday was our six year anniversary. Looking at him standing there, practically vibrating with eagerness to leave with her, I felt a strange sense of peace. I didn’t call him out. I played my role perfectly. “I don’t mind at all. Happy birthday, Audrey. Have a great time.” Audrey beamed, immediately hooking her arm through his and tugging him toward the door. Maybe some buried instinct finally kicked in, because right before crossing the threshold, Declan stopped and looked back at me. “Text me when you get to the gate.” “I will see you when you get back. Bye.” Declan, this is the very last time you will ever see me. There is no coming back. After the door closed, I wheeled my suitcase down to the street and climbed into a cab. The familiar skyline blurred past the window, slowly fading into the distance. The only thing I left behind for Declan was a heavy, gold embossed wedding invitation sitting dead center on the coffee table.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “448589”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 The day I caught Sylvia cheating, I took the Swiss Army knife she gifted me and permanently ruined my stepbrother’s manhood in a single, bloody slash. After I was sent to prison, my marriage to Sylvia was automatically annulled. She finally gave my stepbrother the lavish, fairy-tale wedding they always wanted. Three years later, I was released. Sylvia hired twenty bodyguards to keep me away. She set up fifty legal traps, hoping to send me right back behind bars. She even sent a hundred different mediators to tell me I could name my price, as long as I never laid a finger on her precious husband again. But she was overthinking it. Like a drop of water vanishing into the ocean, I completely disappeared from her life. The next time we met, it was at an auto repair shop in the gritty outskirts of Chicago. I blew out a puff of cheap cigarette smoke, popped the hood of her car with oil-stained fingers, and asked in a flat, even tone. “How old is this model?” Her eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Victor, this is the car you bought me for my eighteenth birthday.” … My hand froze on the wrench for a split second. “Oh. It is getting up there in years, then. Definitely due for a major overhaul.” My tone was painfully indifferent. Sylvia stiffened. She opened her mouth several times, but the words died in her throat. I tapped the wrench against the engine block, methodically checking every bolt. I treated the dazzling yellow sports car in front of me exactly like the thousands of beat-up sedans I had fixed before it. Perhaps the harsh clanking of metal on metal grated on her nerves. Sylvia’s expression shifted drastically before she finally managed a mocking, cynical smile. “If you are short on cash, Victor, you could have just called me.” “There was no need to scatter nails on the highway just to lure me to this dump and put on a show.” I chuckled, making casual small talk like I would with any random customer. “If I were that good of an actor, I would be in Hollywood by now.” “You came down Third Avenue, right? The morning news reported a hardware truck flipped over there yesterday. You have to be careful on those roads.” As I spoke, I grabbed a filthy, grease-soaked rag and casually wiped the sludge off my hands. Sylvia stared at that rag. It seemed to be the last straw. Her voice rose in pitch. “You used to be as proud as a swan, Victor.” “Claustrophobia, obsessive-compulsive disorder, an absolute germaphobe. You were the textbook definition of a billionaire heir. If a single speck of dust landed on your leather shoes, you would polish them for an hour. If there was a grease spot on the dining table, you would fire the housekeeper on the spot…” “And now look at you…” “Hey, Victor! Why didn’t you wash my car properly!” A shrill voice cut through the garage as the glass door was shoved open. A heavy-set woman stomped in, jabbing her stubby finger right at my nose. “You left a massive mud stain! Does washing my car for free hurt your pride or something?” “Come on, Brenda,” I quickly rushed over, plastering on an apologetic smile. “I was just swamped today and missed a spot. Head on home, and I will come over later to give it another wash!” I pleaded and smoothed things over for a good five minutes. Brenda finally backed down. “One more mistake, and your shop rent goes up thirty percent!” I kept smiling, bowing my head and promising it would never happen again. Times were tough. Brenda’s garage was only fifteen hundred a month, the cheapest rent in the entire district. It was only after I walked Brenda out that I remembered I still had a customer. I turned to Sylvia and offered an awkward, apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. Anyway, Miss, your car is good to go. That will be twenty bucks.” “You…” Sylvia stared at me blankly. It took her a long time to force out a single word, completely drained of the energy to finish her sentence. Instead, she hurriedly pulled out her phone to scan my payment code. I looked at the notification. Five hundred dollars. I immediately waved my hands. “Miss, you paid way too much. Let me send the rest back.” I instinctively went to find her contact on my phone. Then I remembered. She had blocked me on everything the day I went to prison. I scratched my head helplessly. “Well, this is awkward. Miss, you will have to show me your Venmo code.” “Didn’t you say the car needed a major overhaul?” Sylvia’s expression was a tangled mess of emotions. “Do a full diagnostic on the other parts. Is that enough to cover it?” My face lit up. “More than enough. Please, take a seat and wait over here.” I pulled a cheap plastic stool out from under a workbench and slid it toward her. Noticing her pristine white designer dress, I thoughtfully grabbed a few paper towels and layered them over the plastic seat. Sylvia stayed silent for a long time. She sat down stiffly, keeping her knees tightly together. A second later, the squeak of the glass door startled her so badly she nearly jumped out of her seat. “Hey Victor! Still grinding through lunch hour? Business must be booming. No wonder you ordered the deluxe combo today.” “Oh wow, and you have a gorgeous customer waiting. Lucky guy.” It was the delivery driver who brought my lunch every day. I bantered with him for a moment, laughing as I took the cheap takeout bag from his hands. Sylvia, clearly offended by being called ‘gorgeous’ by a random delivery guy, let out a frustrated breath, her cheeks flushing red. But there was nothing I could do. This was how the neighborhood operated. Martha from the fruit stand next door rolled her scooter in, asking me to check her loose brake cables whenever I had a minute. A young corporate worker from the apartments upstairs dragged a suitcase down, asking if she could stash it in the corner until she got off work. A college student sprinted in, scanning the code on my counter to rent a portable charger. Their gazes ranged from blatant staring to poorly concealed glances, but every single one of them let their eyes linger on Sylvia. Finally, she shifted uncomfortably on the stool. “Victor, are you really content sinking this low? Flirting and mingling with these bottom-feeders?” 2 Her eyes looked a little red, though I might have been imagining it. After spending three years operating a sewing machine in a fluorescent prison workshop, everything looked a little red to me. “The car is in decent shape.” I straightened up, wiping my hands. “But the brake pads are worn down. You really need to get them replaced. This is just a budget shop, I don’t stock original factory parts. You will have to take it to a dealership for that.” I pointed her in the direction of the nearest luxury dealership, then eagerly tore into my cheap takeout box. Curry chicken, spicy fried chicken, and braised eggplant. All my favorites. But even as I snapped my disposable chopsticks apart, Sylvia showed zero intention of leaving. I was a bit confused. After a moment’s thought, I slid the plastic container toward her. “Are you hungry? If you don’t mind the grease, you can have a few bites to hold you over.” Sylvia’s gaze drifted. It snagged on the motor oil permanently embedded under my fingernails, then shifted to the excessively oily food in the container. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse. “This is all cheap, processed garbage. It is toxic. You never used to eat this kind of food.” In her memories, I was a culinary snob. A picky eater who lived on organic greens and raw sashimi. If a dish was even slightly past its prime, I would be hugging the toilet, throwing up until I saw stars. I just smiled. “Well, the prison cafeteria doesn’t exactly offer a tasting menu. Plus, doing hard manual labor all day magically cured all my snobby habits.” “Every delivery place uses pre-packaged stuff now anyway. But their spicy chicken really kicks. You should try a piece.” “Oh nice, they threw in an extra packet of chili oil today. Score.” I happily fished the cheap plastic packet out of the bag and tossed it into a cardboard box behind me. That box was already half-full of complimentary condiment packets. Buy a plain piece of bread, squeeze some of that on it, and it made a decent meal. Sylvia abruptly shot up from the stool, her voice thick and nasal. “Enough!” I jumped, genuinely startled. The next second, she hurled a sleek, matte-black credit card at my chest. “This is a supplementary card to my account. Take it.” Her movements were so violent that she knocked over the plastic stool and nearly sent my takeout flying. Fortunately, my reflexes were still sharp. I lunged forward and barely managed to save my lunch. “Miss,” I sighed, completely exasperated. “If you are not going to eat it, I am…” “Victor!” Sylvia roared, her voice dropping into a frantic hiss. “I am serious!” “This card is linked to a platinum account. It has a five million dollar limit. Spend it however you want.” “Buy a proper storefront in a nice area. Start a legitimate business. Be your own boss. Stop renting this toxic dungeon and playing the role of a pathetic, foul-smelling grease monkey!” “You used to be an elite professional racer from one of the wealthiest families in the country. Have you completely forgotten who you are?!” Her screaming echoed in the garage, dragging me violently back into the past. It was true. My family was incredibly wealthy, one of the biggest investment tycoons in the city. I lived the life of a billionaire’s sole heir until I was seven, right around the time my mother got pregnant with twin girls. But as we eagerly awaited their arrival, my father’s infidelity shattered everything. He fell recklessly, destructively in love with a biracial adult film actress. It got to the point where his mistress marched straight into our home, demanding my mother step aside and sign the divorce papers. My mother was a fiercely proud woman. A screaming match erupted. In the chaos, I watched with my own two eyes as that woman reached out with her long, acrylic nails, locked her hands around my mother’s throat, and shoved her down the grand staircase. Three lives were extinguished in a matter of seconds. My mother died with her eyes wide open. Afterward, my father locked me in a room and beat me for a full day and night to force me to change my police statement. Because of that, the mistress walked away without a single charge. They got married. The mistress brought along a son from her previous marriage. My new stepbrother, Tristan. That was when my true nightmare began. The beatings, the verbal abuse, the psychological torture, the endless bullying. To survive, I fled to France. I put my life on the line and became a professional rally racer, shocking the motorsport world with my debut. At the time, Sylvia was in Paris studying fine arts. After catching a glimpse of me on a live broadcast, she became my most obsessive fan. Every time I crossed a finish line, she was in the stands, holding a glowing sign with my name, screaming her lungs out. When a corrupt official intentionally penalized me, she rallied hundreds of students to march through the streets of Paris demanding justice for my career. She held my hand through injuries and dragged me out of my darkest slumps. Finally, the day I secured my first major championship, I stepped out of the car and sprinted straight toward the grandstands. Beneath a sky raining confetti and the deafening roar of the crowd, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her in front of the entire world. The toxic dynamic of idol and fan evaporated. She was officially my girlfriend. But I never could have predicted what would happen that very night. While we were strolling through the romantic streets of Paris, two armed muggers cornered us. They only wanted our wallets at first. But when they saw Sylvia’s face, their intentions turned violent. Without a second thought, I threw myself at them. In the terrifying struggle, a gun went off. The bullet tore straight through my chest. It didn’t kill me, but it punctured my lung and grazed my heart. The doctors told me I could never engage in extreme sports again. My racing career was dead. But I never regretted it. Sylvia was the absolute love of my life. She meant infinitely more to me than racing ever could. I could win a hundred trophies, but I only had one Sylvia. When I lay in that hospital bed, pale and gasping for air, I held her hand and told her exactly that. She collapsed against my chest, sobbing uncontrollably. “Victor, let’s go back home. My family has deep roots in business and politics. Whatever you want to do with your life next, I will back you up a hundred percent!” That was who Sylvia was. She was terrible at whispering sweet nothings, but she moved mountains when it came to action. My heart overflowing with hope, I held her hand as we flew back to the States. Only to walk out of the terminal and see Tristan waiting for us in the arrivals lounge. When he locked eyes with the heiress of the powerful Sylvia family standing by my side, his pupils dilated with pure shock. A second later, he flashed a blinding, innocent smile. It reminded me of his mother. The exact same predatory smile she wore whenever she stood next to my father. My gut told me a disaster was coming. And that premonition became a brutal reality. 3 I could not pinpoint exactly when it started, but Sylvia began bringing Tristan up in casual conversation. Constantly. First, she said he was cute and obedient. Then, she mentioned how pitiful it was that he had to walk on eggshells in his own home. Eventually, it turned into, “Victor, you really need to stop being so mean to Tristan.” I intended to sit her down and have a serious conversation about it. But the anniversary of my mother and sisters’ deaths was approaching, so I had to focus on arranging the memorial service. When I returned home from the cemetery, I witnessed a scene that would be burned into my retinas for the rest of my life. Sylvia and Tristan. The two of them were completely naked, tangled together on the pristine white sheets of our bed. “Hehe, Sylvia, why didn’t you go pay your respects to your future mother-in-law today?” “What mother-in-law… Some uncultured country woman isn’t fit to be my mother-in-law… If I have to pick, your mother is a much better fit…” A deafening ring hijacked my ears. My sanity entirely snapped. I charged into the bedroom like a rabid animal, grabbed a blade, and swung. I still remember the sound of his agonizing screams. God, it felt incredible. During the trial, the judge took pity on me. Considering the extreme emotional distress and my history as a victim of a broken home, he wanted to give me a suspended sentence. But Sylvia hired the most ruthless, expensive legal team in the country. She even bribed key witnesses to commit perjury, ensuring I was slapped with a hard three-year prison sentence. Time really does fly. It had been seven years since the stabbing, and three years since I walked out of a cell. I exhaled a cloud of stale air and quietly observed the woman standing in front of me. Money really was magic. Time had not left a single flaw on this beautiful woman’s face. Yet time had cursed me with cracked, calloused hands, a slight hunch in my spine, and the stench of motor oil permanently baked into my pores. I gently pushed the black credit card back across the counter. “Keep it. There is no need, Miss. I am perfectly fine with how I live.” “I have enough to eat, clothes on my back, and total freedom. I don’t steal, I don’t rob. I make a living with my own two hands.” “I am just a regular guy now. No massive fortunes, but no massive tragedies either.” But Sylvia stubbornly kept her hand extended. “Just consider it… my way of making amends. You take the money, let go of the resentment, and from now on, we are entirely even.” I shot her a genuinely surprised look. The proud, untouchable Sylvia heiress had actually learned how to compensate people. In the past, she would never bow her head to anyone. “Then there is even less of a need. I took that bullet in Paris because you were my girlfriend. And I went to prison because I intentionally maimed a man. It is basic cause and effect.” “Neither of us owes the other a damn thing.” Sylvia clenched her fists, her eyes locked onto my face. It was as if she was desperately trying to confirm if the man standing in front of her was actually Victor. Finally, she slowly lowered her head. A faint glimmer of moisture caught in the corner of her eye. “Victor… you feel like a complete stranger to me.” I glanced up at the cheap plastic clock on the wall. “Well, it has been years. Of course we are strangers.” “Back then… I just got caught up in the heat of the moment.” She paused, her voice shaking. “For years, I have thought about it constantly. If you hadn’t committed such a violent, impulsive crime, I would have married you out of pure guilt. I would have spent the rest of my life making it up to you…” I didn’t respond. I let the relentless ticking of the clock stretch the silence into infinity. “Everyone walks their own path.” I pulled out a crumpled cigarette, lit it, then immediately crushed it out, remembering I had a customer. “When you make your bed, you lie in it. No point looking in the rearview mirror.” “You—” Sylvia choked on her words, completely derailed by my casual, working-class philosophy. After a long moment, she snapped angrily. “You haven’t changed in one regard. You are still a stubborn, insufferable rock!” I nodded cheerfully. “The neighbors say the exact same thing.” “Victor!” Sylvia tightened her fists. After holding it in for so long, my actual name finally tore from her throat. The sound of her voice made the room spin for a second. The way she said it sounded exactly like she used to. Noticing my brief hesitation, she instantly softened her tone. “If you refuse to take my money, I can act as a mediator between you and your father. You probably don’t know this, but your father was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. He is running out of time.” “If you just go beg for his forgiveness now, you can still secure a portion of the inheritance. It is enough money to last you ten lifetimes…” “Really?” I smiled brightly. “Karma finally caught up to him.” Derailled once again, Sylvia lost the last shred of her patience. She grabbed my arm, trying to physically drag me toward her car. “Victor, how long are you going to keep playing tough?!” “Take a good look in the mirror! Look at the pathetic, miserable state you are in!” “Renting a dark, filthy shack. Breaking your back doing a dirty, foul-smelling job!” “Eating literal garbage processed in a factory, and acting like a thirty-cent packet of hot sauce is a gift from God!” “Do you think this aesthetic makes you look rebellious? Do you think this edgy, starving-artist act is attractive?” “You are a mechanic! You are the absolute bottom of the barrel!” I scratched the stubble on my chin and offered a very honest rebuttal. “I am not entirely at the bottom. At least I am still a complete, fully functioning man. Unlike some people…” It was like I had stepped on a landmine. Sylvia’s face turned a violent shade of red as she exploded. “Tristan had reconstructive surgery! They reattached it perfectly! He might be infertile, but his sex life is completely normal!” “Meanwhile, you reek of toxic chemicals. The smell makes people’s eyes water. What woman could ever tolerate being near you?!” Pushed to the brink of hysterics, she started wildly hitting my chest with her designer Birkin bag, treating me like a hopeless disappointment. Right at that exact moment, the glass door creaked open again.

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I was pulling a graveyard shift for a delivery app when I unexpectedly ran into Beth. She took the pharmacy bag of condoms from my hands, pulling her silk robe tighter around herself. Her neck was pale, dotted with fresh red marks. She looked at me with casual indifference. “Is this all you do now?” I offered a polite smile. “I am broke. Don’t forget to leave a five-star review.” A man’s voice called out from inside the penthouse, urging her to hurry. Beth glanced back over her shoulder, but still paused to look at me. “I haven’t changed my number.” “If you are struggling, all it takes is a phone call.” I did not bother giving her an answer. I just turned and hurried down the hallway as the app pinged with my next order. Honestly, I was already used to not loving her anymore. 1 When I got back to the dispatch station, my phone buzzed with a bank notification. Beth had just wired one hundred thousand dollars into my old checking account. I stared at the screen for a moment. After a long hesitation, I hit the button to reverse the transfer. I was working myself to the bone to save up medical fees for my family. Truth be told, that kind of money would instantly lift the crushing weight off my shoulders. But it would also drag me right back into another abyss. An abyss named Beth. It took me three years of crawling through glass to climb out of there. Jumping back in would make me a complete fool. Beth did not send a follow-up text. But the very next night, she ordered delivery again. The algorithm assigned the route to me. When I arrived at her luxury high-rise, the elevator that worked perfectly fine yesterday was suddenly blocked off with an “Out of Service” sign. I had no choice. I climbed thirty-six flights of stairs. When I finally stood panting in front of Beth’s door, she just raised an eyebrow. “Sorry about this. We used up all the ones from yesterday.” I waved it off, catching my breath. “Sounds like you two have a very active sex life. Good for you.” I turned to leave, but Beth reached out and grabbed the back of my jacket, her grip tight. She gritted her teeth, her voice thick with a bitter resentment I could not even begin to understand. “Noah, why do you always have to be so damn stubborn?” “Would it kill you to just say one soft word to me?” I had no idea what game she was playing. I twisted my arm, broke her grip, and walked away to grab my next delivery. Three years ago, I said every possible word a man could say to Beth. I begged. I cursed. I screamed. I whispered shattered declarations of love. All I ever got in return was the deafening slam of a door and endless busy signals on my phone. What exactly did she want to hear from me now? Running into Beth again felt like a nightmare waking up from hibernation. You forget the exact details the second you open your eyes, but that heavy, suffocating dread clings to your skin all day. Or at least, I thought that was the worst of it. When I returned to the station, Beth’s sleek black sports car was parked right out front. Frank, my shift manager, rushed out to meet me. He slapped my back, looking a mix of furious and amused. “Noah, why didn’t you tell me your sister is the billionaire heiress they always talk about on the financial news?” “She is sitting right inside my office. Says she came to take you home.” “Listen to me, man. Stop fighting with your family. Go back and live your life as a rich kid.” The blood drained from my face, leaving me freezing cold. My legs gave out. I crouched down in the shadows by the curb, curling into myself. My voice was completely muffled. “She is not my sister. She is my ex-wife.” “The kind of ex-wife you have a very, very ugly divorce with.” 2 Frank’s face changed instantly. He stayed quiet for a second, then shoved me deeper into the shadows by the alley so I was completely hidden. He walked back inside to deal with Beth himself. I do not know what he said to her, but it did not take long for Beth to march out the front doors, her face dark with anger. Frank practically herded her to her car. By the time I gathered my composure and walked inside, Frank was staring at the table, looking incredibly stressed. He gave me an awkward smile when he saw me. Then he reached behind his desk and pulled out a cheap grocery store cake and two six-packs of beer. The light from a single candle flickered in his eyes. “Look at this mess. I was supposed to give you a surprise.” “Happy birthday, brother.” That was when it hit me. Today was my birthday. Seven years ago on this exact day, I was the happiest groom on the planet. Three years ago on this exact day, I pressed a paring knife against my own throat and signed the divorce papers. Today, I was just me. And I had absolutely nothing to do with Beth anymore. I wiped the moisture from the corners of my eyes, closed them, and made a wish. I wished for Frank to live a long, happy life. I wished for Lily to get well soon. And I wished that the last two days were just a bizarre glitch in the universe, and that Beth and I would never cross paths again. Frank felt bad about how the night went down, so he insisted on treating me to dinner. We found a late-night diner. After a couple of beers, something inside me broke loose, and I started telling him about Beth. Honestly, Beth calling herself my sister was not entirely a lie. When I was nine years old, the Sinclair family took me in. I became their foster son. My father died when I was a baby. My mother raised me all by herself. She was a senior director at Sinclair Enterprises. One day, the Sinclair heiress came to tour the corporate estate and accidentally fell into the massive ornamental lake. My mother used every last ounce of her strength to push Beth above the surface. But my mother never came back up. Beth owed me a life. From that day on, she was ready to lay down her own life for me at a moment’s notice. When I first transferred to her elite prep school, I fell behind on the curriculum. The rich kids mocked me and looked down on me. Beth dragged them up to the school roof. She fought them with her bare hands, sobbing the entire time. When the principal called the parents in, her eyes were still red, but she stood her ground. “They made fun of my brother! They called him a stray dog with no family! I am not dead yet! My mom and dad are not dead yet!” Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair rushed to the principal’s office. One rubbed his temples, the other offered a helpless smile. Neither of them wanted to be the one to discipline their daughter. When I first moved into the Sinclair mansion, I could not sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the nightmares came. In my dreams, my parents were lying on metal tables under white sheets, and no matter how loud I screamed, they never answered. I never made a sound in my sleep, but Beth somehow always knew. She would drag her pillows and blankets into my room, yawning, and set up camp right next to my bed. She would reach up and pat my back. “Go to sleep, Noah. Your sister is right here.” By the time we hit high school, I started getting confessions from girls. As the attention grew, Beth’s temper got worse. She stopped wanting to call me her brother. And if anyone else dared to call her my sister just to get close to me, she exploded like a powder keg. After she ruthlessly bullied the hundred-and-first girl into crying and running away, her best friend made a joke. “Beth, are you falling for your own foster brother?” “You guys do not share any blood. He has not even had his first kiss yet, and you are acting like a guard dog. It makes total sense if you are just jealous.” Beth’s face turned bright red. It was like a lightbulb finally clicked on in her head. She went home utterly speechless. That weekend, Mr. Sinclair called her into his study. They argued for hours. When she came out, there was a red handprint on her cheek. But she did not care at all. She just looked at me and smiled the sweetest smile. When we got acceptance letters to the same university, Beth confessed her feelings to me. I had absolutely no reason to say no. She was my guardian angel. For over a decade, she had stood firmly between me and my nightmares. Once she realized her own feelings, she went straight to her parents and confessed, clearing all the obstacles out of our way before I even had to ask. Without Beth, my life would instantly have a massive, gaping hole in it. A hole nothing else could ever fill. We dated through college. It was incredibly sweet. When we graduated, I proposed to her. And that was exactly when everything started going straight to hell. 3 After graduation, we both started working at Sinclair Enterprises. The corporate machine never slept, and Beth and I rarely saw each other. She was the future CEO. I was just another corporate drone. Even on our rare date nights, I was always the one getting pulled away by emergency work calls. Beth hated it. She threw tantrums, and I naturally felt terribly guilty. After working seven days straight, I finally caught a break. I wanted to surprise her at home. I thought we were on the same page. When I walked through the door, the floor was covered in rose petals. My favorite love song was playing on the speakers. The air smelled of expensive wine. My heart melted. I walked into the master bedroom. And my soul was ripped into a million tiny pieces. Beth was curled up in the arms of a strange man. He was wearing my bathrobe. They were dead asleep, exhausted from whatever they had just finished doing. My entire world collapsed. I ran out of the apartment we bought for our wedding. I blocked her number everywhere. It took her three days to track me down. The proud, radiant Sinclair heiress looked absolutely wrecked. Her face was pale, her eyes completely bloodshot. She wrapped her arms around my legs, swearing on her life that she just had too much to drink. She claimed she thought that college intern was me. “Noah, I know I messed up. I deserve to die. But I just missed you so much.” “You are never home. Everyone keeps joking that my fiancé is a ghost.” “We have been together for over a decade. Are you really going to throw me away over one stupid mistake?” I hesitated. Seeing the crack in my armor, Beth immediately fired the intern. She kicked him out of the Sinclair building in front of everyone. Watching him walk out the glass doors holding a cardboard box, looking completely humiliated, I actually felt a tiny twinge of pity. We got married exactly as planned. At the wedding, her parents cried tears of joy. Beth smiled so hard she looked like she was glowing. Caught up in the magic of the day, I made a silent promise to myself. I was going to care for her more. I was going to be a perfect husband, and one day, a perfect father. So, when she suggested I quit my job after the wedding to stay home and take care of our family, I agreed without a second thought. Time flowed by like water. A few years later, Mrs. Sinclair baked some fresh pastries and asked me to drop them off for Beth at the corporate office. As I walked past the breakroom, I heard a group of guys laughing and bragging. One voice sounded incredibly familiar. “Hey, bet you guys didn’t know this. The boss’s husband used to be a charity case. He was the Sinclair family’s foster kid.” “Talk about a parasite. Seducing his own foster sister to climb the social ladder. Who could possibly be more shameless than him?” It turned out the entire company knew. The intern never actually left Sinclair Enterprises. Beth spoiled him rotten. He felt invincible. He said whatever he wanted, and most people assumed he was slandering me under orders from the Sinclair family themselves. The executive position I emptied when I quit? It was handed to him the very next day. But Beth was the heir to the throne. I was just the outsider living off her scraps. Nobody was going to risk their career to cross her and tell me the truth. I was just a colossal idiot kept completely in the dark. When I kicked the door to Beth’s office open, she was signing contracts. She did not even look up. “Didn’t I tell you Noah is coming to see me today?” “Be a good boy and make yourself scarce. I will spend time with you tomorrow. I will buy you that sports car you wanted.” When she got no answer, she looked up, a soft, indulgent smile still painted on her face. Instead of her lover, she saw my pale, bloodless face. 4 I tore the Sinclair corporate office apart. I demanded a divorce. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair scolded Beth, then immediately pivoted to lecturing me. “Noah, Beth only has you in her heart.” “That guy is just a pet to her. Like a stray cat or a dog. It doesn’t mean anything.” “In our social circle, keeping a little toy on the side is completely normal. You need to be the bigger person. Do not lower yourself to her level, okay?” I was the foster son. I had over a decade of history with them. Before we got married, nobody even brought up a prenup. Mrs. Sinclair used to tell me I was her own flesh and blood. She promised her company shares would go straight to me, to protect me. Holding onto a shred of hope, I looked at her. “Mrs. Sinclair, if I were your biological son, would you tell me to endure this? Would you tell me to just swallow it?” She avoided my eyes. She gave a bitter smile and stopped talking. When we were kids, Beth gave me a home. Decades later, I realized I never truly had one to begin with. The second time around, Beth did not panic. She did not look wrecked. She went to work. She came home. And she kept spoiling her intern. Nosy friends asked her if she was worried I would actually file for divorce and take half the Sinclair empire. She leaned back into the intern’s chest and laughed. “Noah? Since we were kids, he has followed me around like a loyal dog. Even if I kick him, he will just whimper and crawl right back.” “Let him throw his little tantrums. He can never escape the palm of my hand.” Everyone thought I was just throwing a fit. They thought I would wake up to reality and never actually leave. So when I filed the lawsuit and requested a zero-dollar divorce—asking for absolutely nothing—nobody was prepared. The tabloids ran wild with the story of the billionaire heiress and the zero-dollar divorce. The Sinclair Group’s stock tanked overnight. Mr. Sinclair went into a blind rage and suffered a massive stroke. While Mrs. Sinclair was rushing him to the hospital, their car was hit. Everyone in the vehicle, including the driver, died on impact. When I arrived at the hospital morgue, Beth charged at me and slapped me across the face with everything she had. She screamed, her entire body shaking. “Noah, just because you are an orphan, did you have to destroy my family too?!” “How can you be so incredibly cold-blooded? I wish… I wish I had never met you!” I was already paralyzed by grief. Beth hit me with a terrifying amount of force. I stumbled, the room spinning violently. And then I just blacked out. The only thought echoing in my head as I fell was a deep, hollow regret. Beth was right. If I had never met her, my mother would still be alive. I would still have a home. I would have someone who genuinely loved me. Someone who would stand between me and danger without a second thought, and always take my side. Beth, I really wish I had never met you either. When I woke up, Beth was sitting by my hospital bed. She was resting a hand on her flat stomach. The hatred on her face flickered, morphed, and eventually vanished. She spoke softly. “Noah, I am pregnant.” “You are giving me a family again.” “For the baby’s sake, let’s just pretend none of this ever happened. Okay?” I was completely drained. My soul was hollow. In absolute despair, I nodded my head.

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1 I was cutting through the underground parking garage when I saw it. My ex’s sedan was rocking violently on its suspension. Behind the tinted, reinforced glass, I heard a muffled, tear-choked scream from my best friend: “No… please, stop…” Any normal person would have pulled out their phone to record the affair. But me? I’m the ultimate ride-or-die bestie. A hot surge of adrenaline slammed into my brain, bypassing all logic. “You filthy animal! Forcing yourself on my girl in broad daylight? Baby, hang on, I’m coming for you!” I didn’t hesitate. I snatched the fire extinguisher from the wall and went full-on berserk, hammering the heavy canister against the windshield of his million-dollar ride. CRACK! SMASH! CRASH! Safety glass sprayed like diamonds. The screaming inside turned into a terrified shriek. Before the two naked bodies inside could even process the assault, I jammed the nozzle of the dry-chemical extinguisher through the shattered window and pulled the trigger. FOOSH! A suffocating, blinding cloud of white powder instantly filled the cabin. … The air turned into a choking, chemical nightmare. “Cough! Cough! Gag!” Hacking and retching, they finally kicked the doors open. Two pale, shivering figures—looking like deep-fried shrimp covered in flour—tumbled onto the concrete, scrambling for cover. The garage smelled of harsh chemicals and raw panic. The guy wiped the white dust from his eyes, his pupils bloodshot with pure, unadulterated rage. He locked eyes with me and his jaw dropped. “You lunatic! Have you lost your mind? I’m your—” Before he could finish, I launched a brutal kick squarely into his chest, sending him sprawling back into the wreckage. “Shut your mouth! A rapist trying to talk back? Security! Get me some rope! We’ve got a perverted freak attacking someone down here!” My voice echoed off the concrete walls like a siren. It was rush hour at the corporate plaza; the blaring car alarms and my frantic screeching drew a crowd of onlookers like moths to a flame. Phones were out, flashes popping like a paparazzi frenzy. My heart hammered against my ribs. I snatched a grimy, sweat-stained security guard’s parka and lunged forward. “Baby, stay with me! I’ve got you!” I wrapped my best friend, Elena, in the heavy, moldy jacket, cocooning her like a mummy. I pulled the collar tight—so tight it covered her nose and mouth. Elena thrashed inside the fabric, muffled sounds of “Mmph! Mmph!” erupting from the coat. I pinned her down, turned to the gathering crowd of lens-wielding vultures, and let out a sob that tore through the air: “Don’t record this! Please, show some decency! Give her some dignity!” I knelt on the floor, cradling the “mummy” in my arms, tears streaming down my face. “She’s the victim! Do you know who she is? She was just voted ‘Teacher of the Year’ in this city! She’s supposed to be teaching children tomorrow! If her students’ parents see this, how will she ever stand in front of a class again? To think she was assaulted by… this monster! God, have mercy!” The words “Teacher of the Year” hit the crowd like a shockwave. The laughter died, replaced by gasps of genuine horror. “Wait, that’s her? The one from the news?” “That’s sick. In the middle of the day?” “Is he even human? Someone break his jaw!” A few hot-headed employees were already rolling up their sleeves, ready to jump the guy. 2 Inside the parka, Elena was fighting for air, trying to push her head out to explain, but I wailed even louder, drowning out her muffled cries. “Baby, don’t be scared! I don’t care that you’re dirty! Nobody will ever know it was you! As long as I’m breathing, I won’t let that scum’s filth stain your reputation!” That was when Marcus finally cleared the dust from his lungs. He crawled halfway out of the car, his face white, his features twisted in fury. “Sarah! Are you blind?! It’s me! I’m your boyfriend!” The entire room—no, the whole garage—went dead silent. Every head swiveled between us, hungry for the drama. I stood frozen for a beat, acting like the betrayal had just shattered my soul, then I let out a scream that was even more pathetic and piercing than the last. “AAAAAH!” I lunged at Marcus and swung my arm with everything I had. SLAP! The sound was like a gunshot. The force sent a cloud of white powder flying off his face. “You have the nerve to call yourself my boyfriend?!” I was shaking, my finger inches from his nose, tears pouring down. “How could you do this to my best friend? Do you even have a soul?!” Marcus was reeling, clutching his cheek, his teeth bared. “Are you crazy? She… she was the one who seduced me!” SLAP! Another strike, even harder this time. I felt the skin break at the corner of his mouth. “You filthy liar! I won’t let you drag her name through the mud!” I turned to the crowd, sobbing. “People, judge for yourselves! My best friend loathes cheaters! She’s a woman of absolute integrity! She’s going to be my maid of honor next month, for heaven’s sake! You think she’d throw her life away for someone like him?” I locked eyes with Marcus, my gaze filled with the jagged edge of betrayal. “Marcus, you’re so desperate to save your own skin you’d destroy an innocent woman’s reputation? You’re not even a man. You’re trash.” The crowd swayed. Someone muttered, “Yeah, that’s twisted. Who hits on their best friend’s bride-to-be?” “He definitely drugged or forced her. Look at her, she’s so terrified she can’t even speak.” The sympathy in the room was palpable. Marcus was officially the villain. 3 Sirens wailed in the distance. Marcus was thrashing in the back seat, shouting at the arriving officers like he’d found salvation. “Officer! It’s a setup! It was consensual! This crazy woman assaulted me! I want to press charges!” “Still lying?” I stepped in front of Elena like a mother hen shielding her chicks. I pointed straight at the backseat of his wrecked ride. “Officers! Look! Look under the seat! That’s the evidence!” A cop peered inside with a frown, pulling out a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs and a leather crop with a pair of sterile evidence tweezers. A wave of knowing titters rippled through the crowd. Even the cops looked uncomfortable, their expressions shifting from duty to disgust. I pointed at the items, my entire body trembling. “Why are you laughing? This is sick! My friend is a teacher! She doesn’t even wear skirts above her knees! She’s the most conservative person I know!” I glared at Marcus, who was being dragged out and pinned against the hood. “Marcus, you’re a deviant! You forced her to use these? Is that how you treat a woman? You’re a monster!” The crowd stopped laughing. A respectable woman wouldn’t touch that gear. He had to be the sick one. Marcus turned purple. “Those are just toys! It was consensual! That’s our business!” “Business?” I gasped, turning to the police with eyes full of tears. “Officer, who uses a whip in a healthy relationship? Please, save her! She’s been screaming for mercy!” The police officer looked at the gear, then back at the hysterical crowd. The pressure was on. “Enough! Save it for the station!” CLICK. The handcuffs went on Marcus. He was shoved into a cruiser, shouting into the void. I stood there, clutching a shivering Elena, refusing to give a statement. “Officer, can we get her to the hospital first? She inhaled so much dust and she’s in a state of severe shock! She needs medical care now!” I squeezed the cop’s hand, my voice cold as ice. “We want a full medical exam. A gynecological report. We’re going to sue this animal for every cent he has!” Elena went rigid at the word exam. The ambulance roared toward the city hospital. Once on the stretcher, Elena was finally freed from the coat. She was hacking, coughing up white dust, her face a mask of trauma. When I reached for her purse, she froze, her eyes widening in sheer terror. “Oh, baby! Don’t move! The doctor said your airways are scorched!” I gently pinned her hand down and snatched her phone. 4 Elena was crying, shaking her head, her throat raw and failing. “You want to call your parents, don’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll show them exactly what this monster did to you.” I swiped her phone across her face. Beep. Face ID unlocked. Elena squeezed her eyes shut, her body shuddering. A nurse hurried over. “Ma’am, stop moving! You’re on an IV!” “It’s okay, she’s just panicked, she wants her mom,” I cooed to the nurse. I turned my back to Elena and dialed the number of her uptight, image-obsessed parents. The moment they picked up, I didn’t say a word—I just started wailing. “Auntie… something happened to Elena… Marcus… that animal… I shouldn’t have let him near her…” I gave them just enough—assault, undressed, police are here—to trigger their worst nightmares. Every word was a needle to their pride. Twenty minutes later, they burst into the ER. Her father looked like he’d aged ten years, his knuckles white around his walking cane, his face a storm of rage. “Dad… Mom…” Elena shrank under the blankets. Before they could speak, I dropped to my knees. “I’m sorry! It’s my fault! I didn’t see him for the beast he was! He dragged her into the garage… the handcuffs… if I hadn’t arrived, he would have destroyed her!” Her mother started wailing, clutching her daughter. “My poor baby! What kind of karma is this? How are you supposed to get married now?!” Her father banged his cane on the floor. “Where is he? I’ll kill him! And you—why were you even with a man like that? Do you know what this does to our reputation?!” Elena looked ready to faint. She opened her mouth to speak, to defend herself, but I lunged up, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Doctor! Get in here! She’s hallucinating! She needs a sedative, now!” The staff rushed over. “What’s happening?” “She’s in shock! She’s trying to defend her attacker! He’s completely broken her mind!” In the chaos, I leaned in close to her ear, my whisper sounding like a velvet-lined threat. “Baby, take a good look at your father’s cane.” She went rigid. “Think carefully,” I breathed. “If you say it was forced, you’re the victim. Everyone will pity you. Your parents will shield you. But if you say it was consensual… knowing how much your father cares about his ‘image,’ do you think he’ll stop at just shouting? He might beat you to death right here in this room.” I paused, my voice chilling. “And tomorrow, the headlines will read: ‘Teacher of the Year caught in affair.’ You’ll be ruined. Your parents’ entire legacy will burn. So, what’s it going to be?” I felt her hot tears hit my skin. I patted her back like I was putting a child to sleep. “Choose.”

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