The company team-builder landed on my desk. Again. My boss, Mr. Henderson, gave me the official directive: “We need to impress the new client, Sarah. But,” he leaned in, “the company’s watching its spending. Don’t go crazy.” As the head of accounting, I speak fluent “Boss.” He wanted a five-star experience on a one-star budget. I spent an hour scrolling through Yelp, getting quotes for bland chicken dinners that all cost a fortune. To save everyone the trouble, I just booked my family’s restaurant. It’s a nice Italian bistro, the food is fresh, and they’d give us the “friends and family” rate—basically, at cost. I posted the details in the company-wide Slack channel: Alright everyone, here’s the plan for the team event. Let me know if there are any objections. A lot of my colleagues have eaten there before; it’s good food. The channel filled up with “Looks great!” and “Can’t wait!” 👍 emojis. Just as I was about to confirm the booking, a new message popped up. A voice memo from Chloe, the new intern. “Hey, Sarah. No offense or anything…” Her voice was sickly sweet. “I was just wondering… how much of a kickback are you getting from this? Since, you know, it’s your family’s place.” A beat of silence. “I mean, it’s our team-building fund. We should probably get that kickback refunded to us, right?” I felt a migraine coming on. Chloe was one of those “Gen Z workplace disruptor” types. She’d been here three weeks and had already tried to “call out” our 401(k) matching policy on a company-wide email. She was loud, convinced she was the main character, and everyone was too scared to say anything—which usually means she’s related to someone important. Now she was accusing me, the head of accounting, of embezzlement. In a public Slack channel. I typed back, my fingers hitting the keys hard: For clarity, all event expenses are fully documented and have zero impact on employee bonuses. There are no kickbacks. I thought that would be the end of it. The next morning, I walked into the office and it was like a record scratch. Everyone stared, then violently pretended to be busy when I looked back. My computer booted up, and the Slack notifications exploded. Chloe was at it again, tagging @here. @Sarah Lynn, you said no kickbacks, but I just found a Groupon for a downtown steakhouse for $199 a person. I remember Mr. Henderson saying the budget was $300 a person. That’s a $100 difference. Still think there’s no kickback? If you refund us the difference, I won’t report this to HR. 😉 She finished it with a winky-face emoji. I wanted to scream. Here’s the part Chloe didn’t know: Henderson told the company the budget was $300 a head. He privately told me the real budget was fifty bucks. The company’s numbers were terrible. This whole team-builder was a charade for one person: Mr. Davenport, our new eight-figure client. We had to wine and dine him, but on a ramen noodle budget. If the contract failed, I’d be the scapegoat. If it succeeded, the sales team would get the credit. It was a classic no-win scenario, which is why it landed on my desk. I was trapped between my boss’s lie and my colleagues’ greed. I decided to try and handle it quietly. I found Chloe in the breakroom at lunch. I explained the real budget, the client situation, everything. My throat was dry by the end. “So, you get it now, right?” Chloe squinted, then let out a sharp, cold laugh. “Wow, Sarah. You really went all out.” I blinked. “What?” “To cover up a kickback, you’re going to invent a story that the whole company is failing? You think I’m a rookie? We all know that new client project is worth eight figures. You’re a terrible liar.” She walked right up to me, brimming with self-righteous confidence. “I see you, Sarah. You’re exactly what’s wrong with corporate America. And I’m going to fix it.” I was so stunned I couldn’t even speak. What was the point in explaining anything to her? I didn’t actually take a kickback. After lunch, Chloe blew the whole thing up. She stood on her chair and shouted across the open-plan office. “Hey, everyone! Our budget is $300 a person! There are 120 of us! Sarah is trying to book her family’s place for pennies and pocket the rest!” “That’s over twelve thousand dollars she’s stealing from us!” Someone in sales, sensing blood in the water, yelled, “Yeah! That’s our bonus!” The whole office turned into a mob, fueled by Chloe’s righteous crusade and the promise of free money. Henderson was, conveniently, out of the office with the client. “Sarah, you owe us an explanation!” I’d had enough. My job was to manage the company’s money, not a daycare. “I’ve already given you the explanation. If you have a problem, take it up with Henderson.” My dismissal seemed to flip a switch in Chloe. She stormed over and slammed her hands on my desk. “You’re just mad because I caught you! I hate workplace bullies like you who prey on everyone else! Well, guess what, Sarah? Your time is up!” I was just… done. My face went cold. “What is it you want, Chloe?” My tone must have scared her, but she saw it as surrender. She held out her phone with a Venmo QR code on the screen. “It’s simple. You’re going to refund every one of us the $100 you tried to steal. Starting with me.” I laughed. I actually laughed out loud. I pushed her phone away. “I didn’t take a dime. Believe it or not, I don’t care.” I grabbed my bag and walked out. I wasn’t spending another minute there. I went to a coffee shop and emailed Henderson about the mutiny. While waiting, I scrolled Instagram. Chloe had already posted a victory story. A selfie at her desk, text overlay: Stood up to a corrupt senior exec today and won. They can’t silence us! #BraveLittleLamb I rolled my eyes. Then I smiled. I went to my own profile and changed my avatar. To a picture of a wolf. The next morning, Henderson called me into his office before I even had my coat off. Chloe was already there, looking smug. “Sarah,” Henderson started, his face grim. “I put my trust in you, and this is how you repay the company? Maybe you’re not cut out for this role.” My blood ran cold. He was throwing me under the bus. He couldn’t admit he’d lied about the budget, but he also couldn’t lose the cheap deal at my family’s place. This was his “solution.” Chloe was practically vibrating with victory. I took a deep breath. If I called him out on the $50 budget, he’d fire me on the spot. I had to play this smart. “Mr. Henderson, I apologize,” I said. “I should have been more transparent about the costs. But the expense report is fully itemized. There is no kickback.” He started to nod, but Chloe jumped in. “That’s not true! She’s the accountant, she can make the numbers say whatever she wants! Mr. Henderson, I’ve looked at the menu. The real cost can’t be more than half that. She’s ripping us off!” I’d had it. I turned to her. “So you’re saying it’s easy to book a dinner for 120 people, including a high-priority client, for half the budget?” “Duh,” she scoffed. “Great.” I turned to Henderson. “In that case, I am officially handing this project over to Chloe. I’m clearly not capable of handling it.” They both froze. “She’s young, she’s innovative, and she’s clearly passionate about saving the company money,” I said, my voice dripping with false sincerity. “She’s the perfect person for the job. It’ll stop all the rumors, too.” Henderson looked from me to Chloe. Chloe puffed out her chest, glowing with pride. “Mr. Henderson, I’d be happy to! I can guarantee a much better event than some boring bistro, and I’ll save us money!” Henderson, trapped, finally nodded. “Fine. Chloe, it’s all you. The budget is $300 a person. But remember, Mr. Davenport is the priority. Do. Not. Screw. This. Up.” “I won’t!” she chirped. I walked out of his office, the thirty-pound weight of that event lifting off my shoulders. I knew exactly what Henderson had just done. He’d given her the $300 rope. I was just going to sit back and watch her hang herself. That afternoon, Chloe made her grand announcement in the Slack channel. @all, BIG NEWS! I’ve canceled that *other* reservation. Instead, I’ve booked us the ‘Neptune’s Palace’ All-You-Can-Eat Seafood & Sushi Buffet! It’s normally $599, but I got a corporate deal for $150! And yes, I already asked Mr. Henderson: the other $150 from the budget will be paid out to each of you as a cash bonus! You’re welcome! 🥳

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My whole family could hear my six-year-old adopted sister’s thoughts. The moment the test confirmed I was in my mother’s womb, my sister, Claire, grew depressed. My family heard her inner voice, laced with sorrow: 【What do I do? Should I tell them? When they found Mom passed out in that frat house bedroom… I saw one of the frat guys running out, zipping his fly.】 When my mother heard that, she had a violent breakdown. She tried to get an abortion, but her health was too fragile for the procedure. She spent the pregnancy in a haze of self-destruction, and when I was born, we both nearly died. After my birth, Claire was terrified. For three days, she wouldn’t eat, her mind repeating the same thought over and over: 【I had a nightmare. The baby… when she grows up, she’s a sociopath. She’s going to take the company from Dad, and she’s going to throw me out of the house. She’s going to destroy us.】 And so, before I was even a month old, my parents dumped me in a state group home and never looked back. Eight years later, my mother was dying. She needed a bone marrow transplant. I begged my case worker to let me get tested. I was a perfect match. After the surgery, I pulled out my own IV and snuck down the hall to her room. I just wanted to see her. I saw her holding Claire, her face full of love. “Thank you, my Claire-bear, for saving Mommy. You’re my good girl.” Then she looked up and saw me, shrunk against the doorframe. 1 My breath caught. I looked at her, full of a desperate, stupid hope. “Mommy…?” The second our eyes met, my mother’s face went white. Her body went rigid, then began to shake. “Mommy! What’s wrong!” Claire screamed, jumping off the bed. I rushed forward, terrified. “Mom, are you—” My fingers had just brushed the sleeve of her hospital gown when a strong hand grabbed me by the back of my shirt and hauled me backward. Doctors and nurses flooded the room, pushing me out into the hallway. I looked up. A tall man stood over me, his shadow covering me completely. His eyes were dead. I didn’t dare look at him. My whole body was shaking. I twisted the hem of my thin jacket. “Dad…?” “Don’t,” he commanded. His voice was like ice. I stopped breathing. My father, Harrison Montgomery, took a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and began to wipe his fingers, one by one. He was looking at me like I was something he’d scraped off his shoe. “Get her out of here,” he said to no one in particular. The door clicked shut. I crouched in the corner by the door, scrubbing my face and hands with the sleeve of my jacket, scrubbing until my skin was raw. If I was clean, maybe they would let me see her. A nurse paused on her rounds. “Are you the donor for 307? You look just like her.” She smiled. “Why aren’t you inside with your mom?” I froze. A tiny spark of joy lit up in my chest. “My dad… he said to wait out here.” I stood on my toes, peering through the small glass window in the door. She was so beautiful. My mom. Her eyes fluttered open and met mine. I was so excited. I started to wave. Her eyes widened in sheer terror. The monitor beside her bed let out a long, piercing beep. “She’s crashing! Something triggered her! Get the cart!” Harrison’s head snapped toward the window. His glare was a physical blow. He motioned to the two security guards at the end of the hall. They hauled me away. “I don’t get it,” one guard muttered. “Mr. Montgomery is usually a pretty decent guy. Why’s he so hard on a little kid?” The other guard looked at me with open disgust. “You don’t know? That’s the family’s dirty secret. The one from the incident. Mrs. Montgomery was attacked, and that… thing… was the result.” “If she hadn’t been so high-risk, they would’ve aborted it. They just threw it away instead.” I stopped struggling. I couldn’t feel the guard’s grip on my arm. So… I wasn’t his daughter. That’s why she hated me. I was the stain she couldn’t wash out. Two nurses came out of the room, carrying a balled-up hospital gown. I pulled free and ran toward them. I just wanted to ask if she was okay. “This is a limited-edition silk gown,” one nurse said, holding the gown by a single finger. “She just changed into it. Why throw it out?” “She said something dirty touched it. Said she felt disgusting.” I stopped. I looked at my own hand, the one that had brushed her sleeve. Through the window, I saw my father and Claire surrounding the bed. My mother was smiling at them. That night, back at the group home, I held the picture. It was a collage I’d made from magazines, cutting out different actresses’ features to build a face that looked like hers. I traced her paper cheek with my finger. My nose stung. She had never, not once, smiled at me. I curled up on my cot, hugging the picture to my chest, pretending it was her. The next day, I saw her again. She was waiting outside a private school, her arms open wide, smiling as Claire ran out. The look in her eyes… it was so warm. I watched from across the street, my chest aching. If she would just hug me, one time… Suddenly, she looked up, her eyes scanning the street. She saw me. And at that exact moment, Claire’s thought cut through the air: 【Should I tell Mom? That Maya’s been bullying me. She tells all the other kids I’m just the adopted trash.】 My blood ran cold. 2 My mother strode across the street, her purse clutched in her hand. My heart hammered. I fumbled with my jacket, trying to smooth it down. “Mom…” CRACK. The slap sent me stumbling back, my cheek instantly on fire. “Stay away from my daughter,” she hissed. It was the first time she had ever touched me. Her face was twisted with a disgust that was bone-deep. I just stood there, stunned, as she grabbed Claire’s hand and stalked away. Claire looked back over her shoulder, a tiny, triumphant smile on her face. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t wipe them away. It hurt. But it was her touch. Later, I thought she might come back. The sun went down. The school was empty. My mother never came. But Claire did. She brought her friends. They dragged me into the girl’s bathroom. One of them held me down while Claire used a plastic protractor from her bag to slice my cheek. “You don’t get to look like her,” she whispered, her voice a singsong. “She’s my mommy.” They went for my backpack. I clutched it, rolling onto my stomach. Inside was my collage-picture. They kicked me. In the ribs, in the stomach. I just held on, the breath knocked out of me. But they were stronger. Claire ripped the picture out. She looked at it, and her face went dark. “You’re still doing this? I tore up the last one.” “Mommy says you’re dirty. She hates you! I’m just helping her!” She grabbed my hair and shoved my head into a toilet, flushing it. “You’re so dirty, Maya! You’ll never be clean!” Wastewater filled my nose, my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. When I was limp, they threw me on the tiled floor. They tore my picture into tiny pieces and flushed it. I screamed, plunging my hands into the toilet bowl, trying to save the scraps. I only grabbed a few wet pieces. I couldn’t stop crying. After that, I only watched her from a distance. Until the day I saw the car. It was a silver sedan. It blew a red light, swerved to avoid a bus, and jumped the curb, heading right for my mother. Claire froze, her mouth open in a scream. I didn’t think. I just ran. I slammed into my mother, pushing her back against the brick wall. The car hit me. It was the first time I had ever been in her arms. “Mr. Montgomery,” his assistant said nervously, “the press is all over this. ‘Homeless Girl Sacrifices Self for Tech Heiress.’ It’s a PR nightmare. We need to control the narrative. Sir, perhaps we should… bring her home? Temporarily?” My father’s jaw was tight. He looked at his silent wife. He sighed. “Fine. For now.” Claire sat beside my mother’s hospital bed, her head bowed. And her thought came, clear as a bell. 【Maya wasn’t even hurt. I saw her. She paid that driver. It was all a setup. She staged the whole thing… just to get back in the house.】 My mother’s and father’s faces turned to stone. My father turned to the assistant. “Tell the doctors to stop all treatment.” 3 I woke up in the pool house. It was cold. A cot was set up in the corner, surrounded by dusty pool equipment. Through the sliding glass door, I could see the main house. I could see her. A maid wouldn’t let me out until my mother was gone for the day. The moment I stepped outside, a black cat darted out and hissed, raking its claws down my already-cut cheek. I screamed, falling back, shaking. The staff just watched. “Shadow! Get away from that! You’ll get sick!” Claire ran out and scooped up the cat. “Good kitty,” she cooed. “Don’t touch dirty things. It’s disgusting.” She handed the cat to a maid. “Take him inside. He needs a bath.” She shot me a look of pure hatred and walked away. “Disinfect this area,” she called over her shoulder. “And burn that cot.” I lay on the cold cement floor of the pool house, gnawing on a stale piece of bread a maid had thrown in. I didn’t care. I was here. I was close to her. I was never allowed to be seen. So I snuck out every morning and picked the most perfect, dew-covered rose from the garden and left it by her bedroom door. Then I would hide in the bushes to watch her find it. She had a piano in a glass room overlooking the garden. She looked like an angel when she played. I was lost in the music, hiding in the hydrangeas, and she suddenly looked up, right at me. She’ll be mad she saw me. I scrambled backward, tripped, and fell into the deep end of the pool. The water was ice cold. It filled my lungs. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. If I made a sound, she would find me. And I’d never get to watch her again. I woke up coughing. The gardener had pulled me out. “You crazy, kid? You were drowning! Why didn’t you make a sound?” He was a kind man. But I just clutched my shirt, terrified he’d tell. The wound on my side, from the car, was still healing. The pool water infected it. I was burning up with fever. But the next morning, I crawled out to the garden. I had to get her flower. I had just placed it on the doormat when the door opened. It was Claire. She looked at the flower, and her breath hitched. Her face turned red. She collapsed, wheezing. My mother ran out. And Claire’s thought was a siren. 【Why? She knows I’m allergic! She knows roses will kill me! I told her I wouldn’t fight her for Mom! Why is she trying to hurt me?】 My mother’s eyes turned red. She lunged at me, her hands clamping around my throat. “Why?” she screamed, squeezing. “Why are you always trying to hurt my family? You monster!” But I’m your family, too… I was blacking out. I feebly held up the second-best rose. “For… you…” She slapped it out of my hand, scooped up Claire, and ran inside, crushing the rose I’d left on the mat. I lay on the ground, gasping. My father came home early. He found me there. He grabbed me by the shirt and dragged me to the front gate, throwing me onto the street. His eyes were murderous. “If you ever come near my family again, I will kill you. Do you understand?” I was too sick to even nod. My throat was on fire. Two maids walked by, heading for their bus. “Heard that little freak tried to poison Miss Claire. Nearly killed her.” “And Mrs. Montgomery… her depression is back. She almost jumped from the balcony.” “That kid is a curse.” I couldn’t move. I just lay on the pavement, waiting to die. At dusk, Claire came out. She looked down at me. “Why aren’t you dead yet?” She smiled. “You’re so stupid. I’m not even allergic. A little Benadryl, and I’m fine. I knew Mom would flip. I got you thrown out when you were a baby, and I can do it again.” She whistled. Two Dobermans bounded out of the gate. They pinned me down, growling, their hot breath on my face. I was too terrified to even cry. Their teeth sank into my arm. My leg. I heard something snap. They were tearing at me, pulling me apart. I was going to die. I closed my eyes. And then I saw her. On the balcony of the main house. My mother. She was watching. “Mommy…” I whispered. She just stood there, her face blank. She didn’t move. She didn’t scream. She just watched. And for the first time, I felt… nothing. Mommy, why won’t you smile at me? Mommy, why won’t you hug me? Mommy… why won’t you save me?

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At our college reunion, I somehow ended up in bed with Ethan Cole, the one guy I was pretty sure hated my guts. By the time I realized I was pregnant, I was 28 weeks. Too late for the easy way out. So I found him. “We need to get married.” He shoved me away, his face a mask of pure disgust. “Who the hell are you?” I threw the ultrasound printout at his chest. “I’m nobody to you,” I sneered. “But the kid in my uterus knows you pretty well.” “You personally shot him in there.” 1 Seven months after I’d slept with Ethan Cole, I found out I was pregnant. At that stage, in this state, my options were zero. So I took the OB-GYN report and went to find him. I didn’t have his number. I just had his address—a glass tower in the city—and I camped out in the lobby for two solid weeks before I finally caught him walking out. I stepped in front of him. “I’m pregnant.” His face, which had already soured at the sight of me, turned cold. “You’re pregnant. What does that have to do with me?” “It’s yours.” He didn’t even look at me, just scrolled through his phone. “So get an abortion. I’m not having a kid with you.” He clearly didn’t believe a word I said. I shook my head. “Can’t. I’m too far along.” “Ethan, we’re getting married.” That wasn’t a request. It was a notification. And it finally pissed him off. He looked up, his eyes locking on me. He took a step, deliberately slamming his shoulder into mine as he walked past. I stumbled, catching my balance on a pillar. He looked back, his gaze dripping with contempt. “You want to marry me? Did you forget to put your face on this morning?” “I’ve seen girls try to gold-dig, but you’re the first one to show up with the whole construction-grade shovel.” “Mia,” he said, “I’m not even sure we’re acquaintances.” I was done playing. I pulled the lab report from my bag and threw it at him. “You’re right, we’re not. But this kid…” I paused, letting the wind from the revolving door whip my hair. “He knows you. You put him here.” He froze. He actually picked up the paper and read it, confirming I wasn’t lying. His eyes drifted down to the obvious bump under my loose dress, and his jaw clenched. “Twenty-eight weeks… seven months… So that night in my hotel room. The one who… fought me… that was you?” 2 “That night” was our five-year high school reunion. Halfway through, Chloe Anderson, our former prom queen, passed out wedding invitations. When everyone saw the groom’s name, the room exploded. The most popular girl in school was marrying Ryan Miller, the quiet, painfully shy class president. Everyone was ribbing Ryan, saying they never saw it coming. The two of them just stood there, glowing. The only person not celebrating was Ethan Cole, drinking himself into a stupor in the corner. I knew he’d been in love with Chloe for years. He’d transferred from a private prep school to our public high school just to be in the same class as her. In school, I was his deskmate. He was constantly using me as his go-between, making me pass her his stupid, sappy notes. I watched him see Chloe and Ryan kissing in the parking lot after graduation. Now, at the reunion, I watched him slam an entire bottle of white wine. He caught me looking and gave me a bitter, drunken smirk. I just went back to my food. The sweet-and-sour ribs were amazing. Suddenly, Chloe raised her glass. “You know, I actually have Mia to thank for me and Ryan getting together!” I froze. “She was our little secret cupid! She was passing Ryan’s notes to me all senior year!” “I found out he liked me, and I liked him… and when I finally told him, he was so confused! He said he’d never written me a single note!” “I thought about it, and the handwriting was different… Ryan’s not the type for all that poetry…” She beamed at me, holding Ryan’s arm. “Mia, you knew we liked each other, didn’t you? You’re the one who brought us together! You have to be my maid of honor!” CRASH. A glass shattered. I didn’t have to look. It was Ethan. The table went quiet. Ethan just hissed, “Fucking… disgusting.” Everyone assumed he was just being his usual germaphobe self about the broken glass. Only I knew he was talking about me. I just calmly wiped my mouth with a napkin. Someone tried to break the tension. “Easy, man, it’s just a glass. Don’t let it ruin the party.” “Yeah, Ethan, you’re the only one not smiling. Seeing Chloe and Ryan so happy… does it make you want to settle down?” “Speaking of, you and your old deskmate Mia were pretty tight. I remember you sat right next to her on day one. You two ever…?” Ethan, who had been silent, finally spoke. His voice was laced with venom. “Shut up. I’d never hook up with a man-hater.” 3 My hand paused. I looked at him. And just like that, the spotlight was on me. “Oh yeah, I remember! Mia had that shaved head! I thought she was a new guy.” “Ethan, was that it? You thought she was a dude, so you sat next to her?” “Hah! No way. Even Ethan has standards. He’s not going for… that. He was always after Chloe.” “But seriously, Ethan, you’re a total germaphobe. How did you stand sitting next to her? She always smelled like… like garbage.” …I stopped breathing. They didn’t know. How could they? They didn’t know I lived in a single-wide trailer by the dump. That my grandpa, my only family, was disabled and collected cans to pay our bills. That the money we made was barely enough for food, let alone utilities. I couldn’t have long hair like the other girls, because we couldn’t spare the water to wash it. I had two shirts for school—hand-me-downs, identical—so they thought I never changed. And yes, I smelled. Because our trailer was next to a landfill. My entire high school trauma, all the things I’d buried, served up as a party joke. Ethan slammed his hand on the table. “I said, shut your fucking mouths.” I couldn’t stay. I got up and left. I went straight to the staff locker room, showered, and changed into my uniform. My shift started at 11 PM. After graduation, I’d gotten a job at this hotel. I was now the front-desk manager. This hotel. Ethan’s father owned it. He was, technically, my boss. He came in all the time. He never once looked at me. I was processing the night’s reports, but my hands were shaking. I thought about Ethan’s “man-hater” comment. I thought about them all laughing. I was so angry. I threw the report down, went to the front desk, and checked the reservation for the Presidential Suite. Of course. Ethan Cole. Too drunk to drive home. I went to the staff elevator, rode it to the top floor, and used my manager’s master key. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted to yell at him. Maybe slap him while he was passed out. The door clicked open. A water bottle flew at my head. I dodged. “Mia? You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.” I picked up the bottle, twisted the cap, and took a drink. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” He was drunk, and he’d trashed the room. He stormed over and grabbed me, slamming me against the door. He was yelling, calling me every name in the book. I was there for a fight, so I gave him one. I started yelling back. We were screaming at each other, and then he pushed me, and I pushed him back. He was a high school jock, but I’d spent my life fighting. I grabbed his hair. He ripped my shirt. I bit him. He bit me back. He was bleeding. He was breathing hard. He grabbed my chin, and he kissed me. …It was a long, brutal night. 4 I was gone before he woke up. I’d left marks. Scratches. Bite marks. I was terrified he’d press charges, so I ran. I checked the security footage for that hallway. The camera was out. “Under Maintenance.” I breathed a sigh of relief. And then I quit. I found a new job. I was busy. I never got morning sickness. The tiny bit of weight I gained, I figured was stress. Until my first physical in a year. 28 weeks. I told Ethan the whole story, leaving out the parts that made me look bad. “You kissed me first,” I insisted. “I tried to fight, but you… you have that weird kink, I guess. The harder I fought, the more excited you got. You… you really hurt me.” His face was pale. “I was blackout drunk… And who the hell let you in my room?” “Guest complaint. Trashing the room. I’m the manager.” “It’s my father’s hotel! I can trash it if I want to!” I let a tear roll down my cheek. “But I’m not yours to trash, Ethan.” “Mia, don’t you…! Shut up!” He raked his hands through his hair, furious. “Get rid of it. I’ll pay for everything.” “I told you, I can’t.” “I am not marrying you.” “Why not?” A sharp, female voice cut through the tension. A woman in a Chanel suit was walking toward us, her face grim. Ethan’s mom. She walked right past her son and put a protective arm around me. “He will marry you.” Ethan looked terrified. “Mom, I am not—” She slapped him. Hard. Across the face. “You will not speak, you little bastard.” He stared at me with pure hatred, then turned and stormed off. His mother’s face instantly softened as she turned to me. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’m here. He’ll marry you. And you are definitely having this baby.” 5 Ethan’s mom took me for a new ultrasound, had a blood test done to confirm the paternal match, and then moved me into a luxury condo. I learned the truth. The Cole family patriarch, Ethan’s grandfather, was dying. And he was holding the entire $8 billion family company hostage. He was an old-school tyrant. He wanted a blood heir. His will stated that the first of his grandchildren to produce a “legitimate heir” would get the controlling shares. If none did by the time he died, it all went to charity. It was a family comedy of errors. The eldest son was sterile. The second son was gay. The third son… was now a daughter. That left Ethan. The only one who could do the job, and he was still mooning over his high school crush. I wasn’t a problem. I was the solution. Two months later, I gave birth. I was moved to a $100,000-a-month postpartum recovery center. Ethan was forced to sign the marriage certificate. It was all too easy. So easy, it made me nervous. I thought he’d fight harder. I thought, at the very least, he’d hate the baby. But he didn’t. He came to the center every day. Not for me. For the baby. He was… a natural. He held him. He changed him. He learned how to bathe him from the nurses. Of course he did. This baby had just bought him a multi-billion dollar company. He still hated me. I could feel it. I didn’t care. I had everything I wanted… except love. And love doesn’t pay the bills.

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The first thing my new “System” did was send a breakup text to my freshman boyfriend. “We’re done, kid. I’m not into ‘small’ things.” My bedroom door slammed open. A gloriously naked man, still flushed from our last round, stood there holding his phone. “Mia, what the hell is this? We’re not even… cooled down yet, and you’re pulling this shit?” 1 Leo Sterling had me pinned against the sofa, shoving his phone in my face. “When you were chasing me all last semester, you didn’t seem to mind that I was ‘small.’ Or did I suddenly shrink?” The System had my body in a goddamn chokehold. I heard myself speak, but the words weren’t mine. “I wasn’t talking about your age.” We both, instinctively, looked down. Leo let out a cold laugh. “That’s not what you were screaming five minutes ago.” He leaned in, his voice dropping. “Need me to refresh your memory?” And that’s how I was “forcibly reminded” on my own sofa, without any say in the matter. He kept demanding, “Is it big?! Is it?!” And all I was allowed to say was, “Ah! Ah! Ah!” So goddamn annoying. 2 When Leo left, he gave me a warning. “Babe, if you ever say crazy shit like that again, I’ve got plenty of ‘energy’ and ‘methods’ to prove you wrong.” I smiled, blew him a kiss, and as soon as the door closed, the System took over, forcing me to change the electronic lock code. “Look,” I pleaded with the voice in my head, “I can do your quests, but do I have to break up with him?” The System’s voice was tinny and severe. 「You are on the ‘Devoted Other Woman’ script. You are supposed to be pathetically in love with the Male Lead. If he finds out you have a young boyfriend on the side, how will he ever believe your devotion is ‘to-die-for’?」 “But…” 「This time, we’re playing to win! We must crush the Female Lead and lock down the Male Lead!」 The System sounded unhinged. I tried to reason with it. “If I’m the ‘Other Woman,’ isn’t my whole point not to win?” 「Don’t question me! I know what I’m doing! Just follow the script, or I’ll tase you!」 A white-hot jolt of electricity shot through my spine. I yelped. “Okay, okay! I’ll do it!” 「Good girl.」 3 The System made me text Leo again. 「You’re… not that great. I’m over it. Don’t bother me again.」 He replied instantly: 「I’ll be there in ten. Stay naked.」 Ten minutes later: 「You changed the code?」 「Are you serious?」 「Mia, open the door!」 「Babe, I’m gonna get really pissed!」 「Seriously?!」 「What did I do wrong? Whatever it is, I’ll fix it!」 「Open the door! You got the guts to break up, how about the guts to open the door!」 … The System took my hands. 「I’m in love with someone else. You’re not even his big toe.」 On the screen, I could see the three dots of him typing… deleting… typing… for what felt like an hour. Finally: 「You’ll regret this.」 My heart cracked. Just like that, my love life… gone. 「Stop moping, or I’m tasing you again,」 the System chirped. I forced a smile onto my face that felt more like a grimace. Just in time. “Mia Collins?” My interview was starting. 4 I handed over my painfully average resume. “I’m a senior at NYU, and…” “That’s enough.” The man in the center—the one the System identified as the Male Lead, Julian Thorne—cut me off. His voice was cold. The gold-rimmed glasses he wore only made him look richer and more severe. I kept my polite smile frozen in place. See? I thought at the System. I told you a normal senior isn’t getting a job at Aethel, the biggest tech firm in the country. 「You should have done the cockroach jump like I said,」 the System grumbled. 「You’re stacked. It would have dazzled them. The Male Lead loves big boobs.」 I mentally told the System to go to hell. “I understand,” I said out loud. “Thank you for your time.” I turned to leave. “You’re hired,” Julian said. “You start tomorrow.” …What? 「See?!」 the System shrieked. 「He loves your type!」 “My type?” 「Big boobs, no brains. Big eyes, pure… wait, that’s not right. Whatever, it worked!」 I wanted to commit murder. 5 So, I became Julian Thorne’s executive assistant. My job was… basic. I got his coffee. I got his tea. I dropped off signed files. I took his calls. And when he was too drunk at a networking event, I drove him home. A month went by. I was drowning in work. Leo had tried to ambush me at my apartment, but I was never there. He called. The System hung up. He texted. The System declined. He finally snapped. He started sending… pictures. Eight-pack abs. Perfect pecs. The V-line disappearing into his sweatpants. I was practically drooling when the System censored them with giant black bars. I hate the System. Then came the grand finale. A picture of him, kneeling, with… everything out. The text came a second later: 「Babe. We miss you…」 …I miss you too. But I’m being held hostage by a psycho AI. 6 The Female Lead, Chloe Bancroft, finally appeared. She stormed right into Julian’s office. The System buzzed. 「Go! Bring coffee!」 I walked in to find them in a full-blown argument. “Just refuse,” Chloe said. “Why do I always have to be the one to fight? You’re scared of your grandpa, but I’m not scared of mine?” I calmly put a coffee in front of her. She glanced at me, annoyed, and kept going. “I am not agreeing to this engagement, Julian. You know I don’t love you.” Hearing that, my hand “slipped.” The cup I was holding for Julian tipped, dumping hot coffee right onto his lap. “Oh, Mr. Thorne, I’m so sorry!” I grabbed a fistful of napkins and started dabbing… enthusiastically. System, I hissed internally, did you hear her? She doesn’t want him! We’re off the hook! Let me go! 「Hmm…」 the System hummed. 「I’m not convinced. Keep dabbing.」 “Ms. Collins.” A hand gripped my wrist. Hard. “That’s enough,” Julian said. His voice was… strained. I realized my hand was cupping his… problem. “Oh, God! Sorry!” I jumped back. “You already said that,” he said, his eyes dark. He turned back to Chloe. “I don’t like you either. But this was our grandfathers’ decision.” “You’re spineless, Julian! You just roll over!” Chloe yelled. “You… what… what are you doing?!” She was yelling because the System had just yanked me forward, sat me on Julian’s lap, and forced my arms around his neck. 「Test subject #2,」 the System said. 「Let’s see if she’s really not jealous. Kiss him.」 I fought it. I really did. I ended up planting a stiff, awkward kiss on his jaw. Julian just looked at me, his expression unreadable. Chloe’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit.” 「See!」 the System cheered. 「She cares!」 “Could you two at least wait until I leave?!” Chloe shrieked. 「…Hmm, inconclusive,」 the System muttered. Then, Chloe pulled out her phone. “Oh, this is perfect.” She started snapping pictures. “Block your face, sweetie,” she said to me. “This is about him, not you.” Julian reacted instantly, grabbing the back of my head and shoving my face into his chest. It smelled… really good. “Julian,” Chloe said, waving her phone. “You have three days to call off this engagement, or Grandpa gets a full gallery of his ‘devoted’ grandson in action.” “You wouldn’t.” “Try me. In the meantime…” She walked to the door and paused. “You two… carry on.” She even closed the door.

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When Julian Thorne was photographed rear-ending a Bentley with a model in his passenger seat, he simply leaned out the window and smiled for the cameras. “A real scandal,” he told the paparazzi, his voice dripping with amusement. “Make sure you send the invoice to my wife. She loves handling my press.” When you mention me, Ava Thorne, the circles in New York whisper the same thing. “The scholarship kid from NYU? She’d never leave him. She’s clinging to that ‘Mrs. Thorne’ title for dear life.” No one remembers our wedding, when Julian, in a rare moment of sincerity, told them, “This is Ava, my wife. She’s new to this. Be good to her.” Everyone assumed I would do what I always do: write a check to Page Six, bury the story, and continue playing the part of the perfect, supportive wife. This time, however, I just walked into the study of the Thorne family patriarch. “Arthur,” I said, “it’s been three years. You have to let me go.” 1 There’s an unspoken rule among the New York City press: if you’re short on your quota, go stake out Julian Thorne. He changes mistresses like he changes his watches, and he isn’t subtle. It’s an easy shot. A man having affairs is just a Tuesday. But his wife has to maintain the family’s image. If you get a picture of him, you don’t go to him. You go to her. She’ll meet any price. This time, a rookie from TMZ, emboldened by his “exclusive,” tracked down Julian, who simply directed him to me. I had just gotten home to the penthouse, the one overlooking all of Central Park, when my phone rang. The kid’s voice was a practiced, sleazy drawl. “Mrs. Thorne, two hundred grand. That’s a rounding error for you. Two hundred grand, and this video of your husband getting… friendly… with the talent? It disappears. It’s a bargain.” The video he’d sent was pathetic. Julian, windows down, with some aspiring model in the passenger seat. Last month, the photos I’d paid for featured a B-list actress from LA. Julian, looking bored, had waved the rookie over. “New?” Julian’s voice was lazy. “You’re supposed to take this to my wife. I don’t pay for anything.” “Don’t have her contact?” He’d scribbled my private number on a napkin. Then, he’d turned to the model. “Get out.” “Julian,” she’d pouted. “You said we had all night…” He’d tossed her a black card. “You got photographed in four blocks. That’s a new record. You’re done.” I clicked off the video. The housekeeper was setting the table for one. The grandfather clock in the hall—a gift from Julian, seven years ago, from Paris—chimed eight. 2 I looked at the clock. It felt old. Tired. I was 18 when I got the scholarship to NYU. He was 25, already a legend on Wall Street. He’d pretended to be just another guy, “forgetting” his wallet, asking me to “tutor” him in subjects he’d already mastered. It took less than a month for someone to pull me aside. “You know that’s Julian Thorne, right? As in, Thorne Holdings? His father is running for Senate.” He pursued me relentlessly, driving between his office in Midtown and my dorm. We fought, we made up. My defenses crumbled. At 25, after a thousand battles, I married him. The “wedding of the decade.” One tabloid, trying to make a name for itself, ran the headline: “Scholarship Kid Cashes In: Thorne Heir Weds a Nobody.” Julian saw it the next morning. By noon, he had bought the parent company of that tabloid and shut the paper down. It’s strange to remember, but yes, we were that in love. How did we become this clock, just listlessly swinging? The private elevator dinged. Julian stepped out, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder. I looked away, focusing on my food. I heard the jacket hit the sofa. A moment later, I was surrounded by his scent—sandalwood and something cold. He leaned over me, his hands on the table, trapping me in his space. “Good evening, Mrs. Thorne,” he murmured. “Let’s see. What’s the damage this time?” He picked up my phone. “$200k? Pathetic. They’re undervaluing me.” I put down my fork, my back straight, keeping that six-inch space between us. I didn’t take the bait. “I’m rejecting Sienna Miller’s application for the marketing director position. Her resume is being pulled.” The name hit the air. The energy shifted. He stood up straight. He sat down across from me, the table a chasm. “Her business is none of your concern.” “Unless,” he said, a slow smile spreading, “you just don’t like her?” I looked at him, searching for the man I married. He was gone. The tabloids thought he was a revolving door of women. They didn’t know he was just protecting Sienna. Two years ago, he sent her to Europe “for school”—a pathetic attempt to launder her resume so she could “earn” a spot at his company. “I’m not qualified for that role,” I said, my voice flat. “Thorne Holdings requires a degree from an Ivy League. Sienna’s ‘degree’ is from a diploma mill in Switzerland. Even ‘unconventional hiring’ has limits.” “This is business, Julian,” I said. “I’m not mixing it with my personal feelings.” He didn’t reply. A second later, a text-to-speech voice read a message from his phone, loud enough for me to hear. J, I left my panties in your Ferrari. When can I come get them? It was the model from the video. He looked right at me, picked up his phone, and spoke. “Wrong number, sweetheart.” I looked at his cold, beautiful face, and I tried to remember. 3 He used to apologize. The first time, with Sienna. He’d bought her a gift, a diamond bracelet, and it accidentally took the last spot on a waitlist I’d been on for a year. The rumor mill exploded. He’d raced home. He’d dumped his keys, his wallet, his phone on the table. “It was a thank-you gift. My assistant picked it out. I’ll fire him.” I believed him. But then, Sienna showed up. In the rain. Kneeling on the steps of our penthouse. “Mrs. Thorne, please, it’s not what you think! We’re just friends!” The over-the-top denial. It was all for show. I didn’t see it then, but I saw the look in Julian’s eyes as he watched her on the security feed. Pity. When a man pities a beautiful woman, it’s dangerous. I checked my watch. November 27th. The three-year agreement was up. I looked at Julian. “I…” His phone rang. I could hear Sienna’s voice, small and frightened. “Julian? The power’s out in my building… I’m scared.” “I’m on my way,” he said, standing up. He glanced at me. I said nothing. He left. I drove to the Thorne family estate in the Hamptons. Julian’s mother, Eleanor, was on the veranda. She saw me, nodded once, and closed her eyes. I went straight to the study. “Arthur.” The patriarch looked up from his desk. “The three years are up. I want to leave.” When I’d found out about Sienna’s “study abroad,” when I’d realized Julian was flying to Zurich between my chemotherapy appointments, my heart had finally died. I went to Arthur. The family was in crisis. He’d needed me—the competent, stable wife—to steady the company. He’d asked for three years. If Julian was still a fool, Arthur would sign off on my exit. He sighed. “I thought you’d have settled in by now. Why leave? Look at Eleanor. She was a firebrand, too. But she held on. And now? She’s the matriarch. Julian is the sole heir. I made sure of it.” “She survived because I backed her. I’m backing you, Ava. No one can touch you.” “I’m not talking about love. I’m talking about a transaction. You’ve done brilliant work. We can’t afford to lose you.” “Arthur,” I said, pouring him a tea. “If it wasn’t about love, I never would have been here at all.” I wanted to be Mrs. Thorne. But I wanted it because I was marrying Julian. Not the other way around. When I first told him I wouldn’t marry him, that I wouldn’t be a trophy, he’d laughed. “You think I can’t? Watch me.” He’d cleaned up his act. He’d taken over the company. By the time he proposed again, he was the company. No one dared say no. “He’s a fool,” Arthur said. “But he’s my fool.” “I’ve made my decision, Arthur. I’ve waited three years.” He waved a hand. “Fine. Settle your affairs. My lawyers will be in touch.” As I left, Eleanor was still on the veranda. “I won’t be here for your birthday this year,” I said. “Please, take care of yourself.” She watched me walk to my car. As I drove away, I saw her, a figure in the twilight, looking like a younger version of herself, finally free. 4 I still had one affair to settle. I called the TMZ rookie and told him to pick up his check. A few days later, Julian called. He’d been laying low. I remembered my promise to Arthur. I picked him up from a “poker game.” Sienna was there. She’d just won a hand. “Wow, Mrs. Thorne,” one of the guys slurred, “you’re on fire tonight.” Sienna just smiled. Julian looked up and saw me. He stubbed out his cigarette. “The real Mrs. Thorne is at the door. Get your eyes checked.” The man scrambled to his feet. “Ava… Mrs. Thorne… I didn”t…” Sienna’s face went white. Julian was just showing off. He loved this game. He loved proving that no matter how many women he had, I was the only one with the title. I didn’t enter. I just told my driver to wait for him. As I turned to leave, Sienna ran out. “Mrs. Thorne, wait. I… I’m sorry. I tried to leave him. I did. But I… I love him. I know I’m not supposed to, but… we just met too late.” She was 20. She looked like a child. “This isn’t my fault,” she whispered. “I’m not the one who broke your marriage.” I just looked at her. Draped in labels Julian had paid for. The same sparrow, just in a different gilded cage. I didn’t waste my breath. You can’t appeal to the morality of someone who has none. “You should divorce him!” she called after me. “Let him go!” Inside, Julian just lit another cigarette.

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My data-tracking algorithm, in its infinite wisdom, pushed a video of my daughter, Chloe, to the top of my feed. She was using a ‘Crying Baby’ filter, the audio a high-pitched, cutesy song. She pouted at the camera. “Hey guys, so, like, major dilemma,” she whined. “Should I take the million-dollar education trust my parents set up and… like, secretly have this baby instead? Just to, you know, surprise them?” She panned the camera down, rubbing a hand over her stomach. “I mean, I’m already five months, and it’s getting, like, super hard to hide. What should I do, guys? Give me your best ideas!” The comment section was a dumpster fire. In my last life, that “surprise” sent me into a blind rage. I dragged her to a clinic, I forced the termination. It ended on a rainy night, with her and her boyfriend pushing me down the grand staircase of our home. As I bled out, I heard her whisper, “You ruined my life.” This time, I’m letting go. I just want to watch her and that deadbeat boyfriend, Leo, pay for their own “surprise.” 1 I scrolled through the comments, my face blank. Yasss queen! A baby is a *life*! You can go to college anytime, but a baby is so much more important! Do it and then play ‘guess the daddy’ with your parents, they’ll think it’s HILARIOUS. [clown emoji] omg ur preggo?? that’s gonna be the cutest baby ever! [heart emoji] Just tell them you’re taking a ‘gap year’ lol. A long one. In my last life, I’d thrown my phone so hard it shattered the screen of my office monitor. I couldn’t understand how my daughter—our only child, raised with every privilege—could be so stupid. To be pregnant, by him, and to treat her future and our family’s reputation like a joke for her online followers. I’d immediately frozen her cards and had my security team pull her out of Leo’s squalid one-bedroom apartment. She’d screamed, of course. That I was a tyrant. That I didn’t respect her. That Leo loved her, and they had a right to their “miracle.” I’d looked at that boy—who had nothing but a pretty, vacant face and a sleeve of bad tattoos—and felt nothing but disgust. I told her the plan was Columbia. The trust was for Columbia. The child was an obstacle. It had to be removed. After the clinic, she’d never looked at me again. I was the enemy. Until that rainy night. She and Leo, blocking my path on the second-floor landing. The argument. His hands on my back, shoving hard. The sickening crunch as I hit the marble floor. “Don’t worry,” she’d told him, as my vision faded. “She slipped. It’s her own fault. She ruined my life. She deserved it.” A familiar, sharp pain clenched my chest. I snapped back to the present. I would not be that mother again. I calmly saved the video. I called my husband. “Richard, be home early tonight. We need to talk.” “Is everything… okay, Claire?” He sounded surprised. I was never the one to call for “talks.” “It’s fine. Just be home.” I hung up and messaged my personal assistant. “I need a full background check on a ‘Leo Rojas.’ Everything. The dirtier, the better.” I leaned back in my chair. Chloe, my darling girl. We have a debt to settle. 2 Richard walked in at seven on the dot. He handed his suit jacket to the housekeeper, loosening his tie. “Claire? What’s this about? You look… serious.” I didn’t say a word. I just handed him my phone. His face darkened as he watched. Richard is a traditional man. He cares about legacy. He cares about appearances. Last time, he was just as angry as I was. But he’d let me be the “bad cop.” He’d played the sympathetic father, telling Chloe, “I’m trying, sweetheart, but your mother is… she’s just so upset. My hands are tied.” So, in the end, I was the only villain. “This is… a disgrace!” he finally boomed. “She’s dragged our name through the mud! I’ll call security, have them drag her home!” “And do what?” I asked, my voice quiet. He stared at me. “Do what? We take her to the clinic! We can’t let her… let her keep this… thing.” “Why not?” I met his gaze. “She’s twenty. She’s an adult. She has the right to make her own choices. We, as parents, should respect that.” Richard looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Claire, are you in shock? What about her life? What about the company?” “It’s her life. She wants to ruin it, that’s her choice. As for the company,” I gave a small, cold laugh, “as long as our stock price is high, do you really think anyone on the board cares if our granddaughter is a bastard?” I stood up, walking over to him. “Richard. We’ve done enough. I’m done with her. She wants the baby? Fine. She can have it. But two things are not negotiable.” He was so thrown by my calm, he just nodded. “What things?” “One: The education trust. It’s a million dollars. It’s for Columbia. It is not a ‘having a baby’ fund. She chooses the baby, the trust dissolves. Two: We cut her off. Completely. She wants to be an adult, she can pay her own bills.” “Claire…” he hesitated. “She’s… she’s just a kid. That Leo… he’s a bum. How will they live?” “That,” I said, “is her problem. Not ours.” I thought of the cold marble floor. The pain. “But if you feel sorry for her,” I continued, “if you slip her so much as a dollar, I will file for divorce, I will initiate a full division of our assets, and I will be gone. It’s Chloe… or me. Choose.” He looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in years. He saw I wasn’t bluffing. “Okay, Claire,” he said, all the fight gone. “Okay. We do it your way.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. The housekeeper let them in. Chloe, her belly pushed out, holding Leo’s hand like he was a prince. 3 “Dad? Mom? We’re home!” Chloe waltzed in, pulling Leo behind her. She was wearing a tight dress, clearly meant to showcase the “surprise.” Leo was holding a cheap bouquet of flowers, playing the part of the nervous, humble suitor. It was the same act as last time. Richard and I just sat on the sofa. We didn’t get up. We didn’t speak. The silence in the room stretched. Chloe’s smile faltered. “Mom? Dad? This is Leo. We’re in love. And… I’m pregnant!” She waited, bracing for the explosion. I just sipped my tea. Richard folded his newspaper. “Is that all? We were about to go to bed.” They both just stared, completely baffled. This wasn’t in their script. “Dad! Are you listening to me?” Chloe’s voice cracked. “I’m pregnant! I’m five months pregnant!” “We see that,” Richard said, his voice flat. “And? This is your life. Your choice. Why are you here?” Chloe was speechless. Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. Leo stepped forward, striking a protective pose. “Mr. and Mrs. Sheng. I know this is a shock. But I love Chloe, and I will take care of her and our child. I promise. We just… we need your blessing.” He started to pull Chloe to her knees. “Don’t,” I said. My voice was low, but it stopped them cold. I finally looked at Leo. “Take care of her with what, exactly? Your part-time job at the vape shop? Your dreams of being a music producer? Do you have any idea what a nanny costs in this city? Or is Chloe supposed to do that, in your fourth-floor walk-up in Bushwick?” Leo’s face flushed. “Money isn’t everything! We love each other! I’ll get a better job!” “Will you?” I pushed a file across the coffee table. “That is Chloe’s education trust. It’s worth one million dollars. It’s hers, on the condition she enrolls at Columbia this fall.” I watched the greed flicker in their eyes. “However,” I continued, “if she chooses not to go… if she chooses to have this baby… the trust is void. Her credit cards will be deactivated. She will be removed from our will, our insurance, everything. She will be, for all legal purposes, on her own.” “You… you can’t!” Chloe was shaking. “I’m your daughter!” “And as your mother, this is my last lesson for you: choices have consequences.” I stood up. “So, you have a decision to make. A million dollars and a future… or him. Think it over.” I turned to Richard. “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.” We walked right past them and went upstairs. Behind us, I heard the first real, terrified sob.

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My best friend made me pumpkin puree. I poured it straight into my pregnant dog’s bowl. Because I’ve been reborn. In my last life, she bound me to a “Harvest System.” Every time I ate the food she prepared, the baby growing inside me would be transferred to her womb, to be born as her own. She had married into a powerful family, one that hadn’t produced a male heir in three generations. Her in-laws were desperate for a grandson. But she was barren. So she turned her predatory gaze to me, her newly married best friend. I managed to get pregnant, a miracle I cherished, but after every meal she brought me, I would suffer a devastating miscarriage. While I mourned, she gave birth to four sons, one after another, basking in the adoration of her husband and his family, her triumph a cruel mirror to my grief. In the end, she and her husband framed me for adultery, shattering my reputation. My own in-laws threw me out onto the street with nothing. I starved to death, alone and forgotten. But now, I’m back. She wants a child, does she? Well, stealing mine is no fun. This time, I’m going to give her some far more… unique “treasures.” 1 I opened my eyes to the sound of a doctor confirming my pregnancy. Three months along. Right on schedule. Before I could even process the news, a steaming thermos of chicken soup was placed in front of me. “Elara, pregnancy must be so exhausting for you.” The voice belonged to my best friend, Seraphina. A pampered trophy wife, draped in silk and dripping with jewels. “I knew something was up when you lost your appetite,” she chirped, her smile never quite reaching her eyes. “Here, I made this soup just for you. It’s delicious. Go on, have a taste.” I met her gaze, my jaw tight, and made no move to take the bowl. A sharp sigh came from my other side. It was my mother-in-law, rolling her eyes. “Elara, what are you waiting for? Drink it. Don’t be so ungrateful. Sera is so good to you, always thinking of you.” A nearby nurse chimed in. “She’s right. If I’d married into a family like that, I’d have forgotten all my old friends. Seraphina has a heart of gold.” “I heard she even made that pumpkin puree by hand. A friendship like that is so rare these days.” “She’s as beautiful as she is kind. Her children will be just as wonderful, I’m sure.” Seraphina offered them a gracious, practiced smile before turning back to me, ladling a bowl of the glistening soup and holding it to my lips as if I were a child. “Drink it while it’s hot. I was up at four this morning, simmering it for eight whole hours. If you don’t like it, I can make you a squab broth instead?” A cold wave of memory washed over me. In my past life, the joy of learning I was pregnant had been fleeting. I drank her soup, and by that night, I was cramping, bleeding, losing my child. My husband took me for every test imaginable, but the results were always the same: my body was perfectly healthy. There was no medical reason for the miscarriages. And that was only the beginning. I conceived three more times. I lost them all. Each time, the doctors were baffled. No gynecological issues, no identifiable cause. I nearly went mad trying to understand why. Why couldn’t I hold onto my precious babies? It was my mother-in-law who found the “answer,” watching our home security footage. She saw me—or a version of me—leaping around the house, jumping on furniture, even punching my own stomach, as if desperate to destroy the life inside me. But it wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t. I was always so careful, treating my body like a fragile temple. I guarded my diet, my every move. I would never have done those things. I pleaded, I swore I was innocent, but my husband and his parents were convinced I’d lost my mind. They had me committed. The doctors diagnosed me with schizophrenia. Then, to seal my fate, a strange man appeared, claiming we were lovers. He told everyone the reason I’d killed my four unborn children was because I refused to give my husband an heir, saving myself for him alone. I was cast out, divorced, and stripped of every penny and piece of identification I owned. I died under a freeway overpass, my last sensation the gnawing emptiness in my stomach. Only when my soul drifted free did I see the truth. It was all Seraphina, and the “Harvest System” she had bound to me. 2 The memory was so vivid it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I turned my head, gently pushing the bowl away. The greasy scent of the soup suddenly churned my stomach, and a wave of nausea rose in my throat. “I don’t think I can.” My refusal, public and stark, wiped the smile from her face. Her expression hardened. Before she could speak, my mother-in-law shot me a look of pure contempt. “Elara Vance, don’t you dare be rude! Seraphina got up at the crack of dawn to make this for you. You used to beg for her soup. What’s with the theatrics now?” The nurses started whispering amongst themselves. “Seriously, some people don’t know how lucky they are. If I had a friend like that, I’d drink the whole pot.” “The soup will get cold and lose all its nutrients. What a waste. That bitch is just putting on a show.” “She’s just trying to feel superior, making a scene to put Seraphina in her place.” My mother-in-law looked ready to lunge at me, but Seraphina smoothly stepped between us, shielding me. Then, with a look of saintly concern, she produced a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade. “Elara, it was my fault. I should have been more thoughtful,” she said, her voice a soft, apologetic murmur. “I brought this, too. Maybe this will help.” She pushed the glass toward me. My mother-in-law scoffed, then immediately softened her tone as she looked at Seraphina. “Oh no, honey, you can’t give her that. You have a cold. The doctor said you need the vitamin C. You drink it.” Seraphina shook her head, her performance of self-sacrifice unwavering. “Elara told me she’s been craving sour things. This is perfect for her nausea. I’ll be fine.” If I didn’t know the poison that lurked beneath her perfect facade, I might have been moved. I might have taken the glass. But looking at her now, all I felt was a tidal wave of hatred so powerful I wanted to tear her limb from limb. My first instinct was to throw the lemonade in the trash, to cut her out of my life completely and protect my baby. But as I turned, my eyes fell on the dog my husband was cradling—our pregnant golden retriever. Her belly was round and full; she was carrying at least five or six pups. I looked back at Seraphina, who was watching me with an unnervingly intense, calculating gaze. A wild, venomous thought sparked in my mind. If the dog ate the food she made… would the puppies in its belly end up in hers? I decided to run an experiment. I pushed the lemonade back into Seraphina’s hand, forcing down my revulsion. “I’ve been throwing up all morning. I don’t think I can handle anything acidic right now.” I gestured to the thermos. “And it would be a shame to waste that soup after all your hard work.” Just then, another pregnant woman who had just finished her appointment spotted us. “Sera? Is that really you? It’s me, from college! We were good friends, remember?” She gave Seraphina an enthusiastic once-over. “Did you make this soup yourself?” Her eyes lit up. “I still remember the food you used to bring from home back on campus. It was amazing. I haven’t had your cooking in ages. Could I… maybe have a taste?” I sized the woman up. She was plain, with rough skin and a short, stout frame. I remembered Seraphina mentioning a classmate who’d been a terrible student and dropped out. 3 This was a gift from the heavens. Seraphina’s face cycled through shades of green and white. She instinctively tried to hide the bowl of soup behind her back. “Oh, um… I can’t. This is for Elara,” she stammered. The woman just laughed, completely unfazed. “What’s the big deal? I just saw her refuse it. She didn’t even take a sip. Let me have it. I don’t mind leftovers.” A nurse joined in, trying to smooth things over. “Exactly. You worked so hard on it. Someone like Elara doesn’t deserve it.” “Just give it to someone else. You don’t need to be so nice to her.” Seraphina’s fists clenched, her knuckles white. Her face grew paler. Just as the standoff reached its peak, her husband, Ethan, appeared at her side. “Nobody’s drinking that soup,” he announced with an easy charm. “I was rushing through the kitchen this morning and knocked over the salt shaker. The whole thing went right into the pot. I was in a hurry and forgot to tell Sera. I’m sure it’s inedibly salty by now.” He scratched his head, a picture of sheepish apology. “Alright, alright, no big deal about the soup. Tell you what, I’ll treat everyone to lunch to make up for it. My apologies.” And just like that, with a simple lie, Ethan defused the entire situation. So, my theory was correct. The system worked on anyone who ate the food she prepared. They were deliberately screening for a mother who was intelligent and beautiful to bear their stolen child. It just so happened that next month, I was scheduled to volunteer at an upscale animal shelter. The director mentioned they had several pregnant dogs who were always ravenous, constantly scavenging for food, even in the middle of the night. I planned to spend a couple of days there. If I could bring all of Seraphina’s “gifts” with me… wouldn’t that be perfect? I was about to ask her for some of her famous homemade pumpkin puree when she beat me to it. “Elara, since the soup and lemonade won’t work, I also brought you a jar of my pumpkin puree. It’s packed with nutrients for expectant mothers.” I smiled faintly, and she immediately pressed the beautifully packaged jar into my hands. Onlookers gasped in admiration. One of the nurses gave her a thumbs-up. “My god, you should be nominated for Best Friend of the Year.” Seraphina blushed demurely, covering her mouth with her hand. “Elara’s just hit the three-month mark; it’s a critical time. She’s my best friend. Of course, I have to take care of her. A best friend is family. I’d do anything for her.” People shot me envious looks, wishing they had a friend as devoted as mine. I remembered my past life, my soul hovering near her ceiling as she complained to Ethan. “This fourth one isn’t nearly as handsome as I’d hoped. We should have reset the system with someone else.” Seraphina, applying her makeup flawlessly, had laughed. “Whatever. I only wanted one of her kids anyway, but the stupid girl just kept getting pregnant. It was her body taking the damage, not mine. Popping out a kid felt like nothing. A few free sons aren’t so bad, I guess.” She’d paused, a cruel smirk on her face. “It was kind of fun, actually. It’s a shame she died so soon. I could have kept playing for much longer.” 4 Her bottomless cruelty, her absolute lack of a soul, had led to my horrific end. Why? What right did she have to do that to me? Now that she was handing me the bait herself, I didn’t even have to ask. I placed the jar of pumpkin puree in my bag. Seraphina’s expression flickered with anxiety. “Elara, it’s really delicious. Aren’t you going to open it and try some now?” I smiled and took her hand. “It’s because it’s so good that I want to save it and savor it at home.” She opened her mouth to argue, but the people around us erupted in criticism aimed at me. “What a fake. It’s obvious she doesn’t want it. Why take it, then?” “I know what she’s doing. That puree is in a fancy jar. Homemade stuff like that sells for a lot online. I bet she’s planning to sell it.” “Exactly. She’s trying to profit off her own best friend. How disgusting.” At this point, I didn’t care what strangers thought of me. In this new life, my happiness came first. I would do whatever I wanted. But Seraphina stuck to me like glue. “Elara, you’ve been sick all day. You have to eat something. It’s not good for you or the baby. Please, just eat it. Don’t be polite with me.” She looked genuinely worried, her act flawless. Ethan’s face darkened beside her. “Elara, why won’t you even open it? What’s the matter? You don’t think we’re trying to poison you, do you?” His question stopped me cold. What others thought didn’t matter, but I couldn’t afford to spook these two. If they suspected I knew their secret, they’d take the puree away, and my plan for revenge would be ruined. Worse, if they realized I knew the truth, they would never let me live. They were monsters in my last life; I had to protect myself and my baby in this one. What could I do? After a moment’s thought, I slowly unscrewed the jar. I scooped a small spoonful of the puree and placed it in my mouth. Seraphina and Ethan exchanged a satisfied smile. I smiled back. “Sera, you’re too good to me. I’m so lucky to have a friend like you. Thank you for caring so much.” After a few more pleasantries, they left, arm in arm. The moment they were gone, I booked an ultrasound. Thank God, the baby was still there. I had put the puree in my mouth, but I had hidden it under my tongue, spitting it into a tissue when I pretended to wipe my lips. I had only taken that one spoonful; the rest of the jar was safely in my bag. I went straight home from the hospital and began plotting my next move. But as soon as I lay down, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Seraphina standing there, holding a tissue. A tissue with a smear of orange puree on it. “Elara, did you not swallow the pumpkin puree? I found this in the trash can by the elevator.” She stared at me, her eyes cold and sharp. My heart hammered against my ribs. Had she figured me out? Before I could answer, Ethan, who was standing behind her, clutched his head and collapsed, falling directly onto me. I screamed. As his dead weight pressed me down, I shoved him off. He blinked his eyes open, feigning weakness, and sat up. He popped a piece of candy into his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Elara,” he mumbled, his voice shaky. “Is the baby okay? We should get you to the hospital, just in case.” “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I think my blood sugar just crashed.” I was seething. My husband and mother-in-law rushed out at the commotion and insisted on taking me back to the hospital. Under the guise of concern, Seraphina stood beside me the entire time, her eyes glued to the ultrasound monitor, scrutinizing every word on the report. The baby was perfectly fine. I shot her a cold look. “What? Is there a problem?” She frowned. “No, of course not. I was just so worried Ethan might have hurt you. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind when we get home.” I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. Her act was seamless. It was painfully obvious she was just checking to see if my baby was still there. She pressed me again, asking why I hadn’t eaten the puree. I told her I had, but the nausea came back and I’d thrown it all up. Insisting it was for my own good, Seraphina ordered three entire crates of her pumpkin puree and had them delivered to my house by truck. Perfect. The puppies’ gourmet feast had arrived. I couldn’t help but wonder… after all those dogs ate her puree, what kind of “precious babies” would start growing inside Seraphina’s womb?

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In my past life, my sister adopted a boy, and I adopted a girl. She wanted a stranglehold on the family fortune and sneered at me, “What’s a pretty face going to do for the family business?” But later, the boy she adopted got into a fight at school that turned fatal, costing her every penny she had. And the girl I adopted was discovered by a director and became a child star, a veritable goldmine. My sister couldn’t stomach it. She goaded her adopted son into murdering me. When I opened my eyes again, we were back at the orphanage. This time, my sister lunged for the girl, scooping her into her arms. “Sweetheart, from now on, I’m your mommy.” I looked at the boy, his head bowed in silence, and smiled as I took his hand. My sister had lived two lives and still hadn’t learned a simple truth: you reap what you sow. 1 My sister Olivia and I were both reborn, finding ourselves back on the day we went to St. Jude’s Home for Children to adopt. Just like last time, the director brought out Leo and Ayla. Leo was covered in scrapes, his face a stoic mask, but his eyes were wary, guarded. Ayla was nervously twisting the hem of her dress, looking small and pitiful. Both were only six years old, yet they lacked the carefree innocence of other children their age. This time, before I could speak, Olivia snatched the girl into a hug. “Sweetheart, from now on, I’m your mommy.” Ayla flinched, instinctively trying to pull away, but she seemed to catch herself, nodding with a look of stunned disbelief. Olivia smiled, satisfied, then shot a disgusted glance at Leo. The memory of the last life must have surfaced, because she frowned. “This one… so much anger in such a little kid.” “It’s just his nature. If he’s like this now, imagine what he’ll be when he grows up…” Leo felt the sting of her malice. He looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t, so he just lowered his head and bit his lip. “He’ll grow up to be decisive, a real force to be reckoned with,” I said, cutting my sister off as I gently took Leo’s hand. The staff smiled kindly, though their looks toward Olivia were tinged with confusion. As we walked out of the office, I faintly heard them talking behind us. “Didn’t Olivia Sterling specifically ask for a smart, independent boy?” “Why’d she end up taking little Ayla?” “Eh, who cares? The two biggest troublemakers are gone. Makes our lives easier.” “Speaking of which, her sister, Daisy, seems so gentle. That little Leo is going to give her a world of headaches…” Watching Olivia coo over Ayla as she bundled her into the car, I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Did she really think that in our past life, Ayla became “America’s Sweetheart” on pure luck alone? 2 My name is Daisy Sterling. My sister, Olivia, is two years older. Our parents only had the two of us, and both of us were committed to a child-free, career-focused life. After failing to pressure us into marriage, and to ensure the sprawling Sterling empire wouldn’t be left without an heir, our father ordered us each to adopt a child. His meaning was crystal clear: whichever child proved more capable would grant their mother more power and a larger share of the company stock. Even clearer than our father’s intentions was Olivia’s ambition. She had specifically told the orphanage director she wanted a sharp, independent boy—the perfect raw material to mold into a future corporate shark. The director picked Leo only because he was constantly getting into fights, so much so that even the older kids knew not to mess with him. As for Ayla, she was the prettiest girl at St. Jude’s, but also the most timid. She was bullied relentlessly and, at such a young age, was already showing signs of depression and withdrawal. The director, worried the two would cause a major incident and tarnish the orphanage’s reputation, pushed them on us. In our past life, Olivia had taken Leo without a second thought, mocking me. “What’s a pretty face good for? She’s nice to look at, but she can’t even speak up for herself. What do you expect her to accomplish?” She thought she had victory in the bag. What she didn’t expect was that under her permissive parenting, Leo’s aggression festered. Eventually, he bullied a classmate with fatal consequences. At the time, Leo was not yet fourteen and escaped serious legal punishment. But Olivia nearly exhausted her savings on settlements and legal fees to keep him out of juvenile detention. Our father was beyond disappointed. He refused to help financially and revoked Olivia’s inheritance rights on the spot. Meanwhile, under my guidance, Ayla blossomed into a confident, charming young girl. She was discovered by a director for a role in a hit series, which launched her into stardom as “America’s Sweetheart.” When our father prepared to hand the company over to me, a resentful Olivia incited Leo to kill me. “Leo’s a minor,” she’d said. “He won’t do hard time. What’s the difference between one life and two?” “Oh, little sister,” she whispered as I bled out, “if you want to compete with me, you’ll have to wait for the next life.” “And by the way, thanks for leaving me such a profitable little daughter.” I didn’t hear the rest. Stabbed repeatedly, I died right in front of her. Now, reborn, she wore the same smug look on her face. “Well, well, little sister. Looks like there really is a next life.” “The tables have turned. This time, it’s my turn to sit back and enjoy the good life.” “You can have the little murderer. Now you get a taste of what I went through.” “He’s a real handful, you know.” 3 She wasn’t wrong. On his very first day of school, trouble found him. When I went to pick him up, I saw him pinning another boy to the ground, raining down punches. By the time a teacher pulled him off, the other boy was a mess of bruises and tears. Leo had a few cuts on his own hands and face. He stood stubbornly to the side, ignoring the scolding adults, saying nothing. An apology was out of the question. The other boy’s parents arrived, furious. If the police officer hadn’t been there, the father looked ready to beat Leo himself. I quickly pulled Leo behind me, bowing and apologizing profusely. “Sorry? Is that all?” the father roared. “How about I beat you up and then just say sorry?” “Like mother, like son. What kind of trash raises a little bastard who dares to touch my boy!” “Where’s the principal? A student like this needs to be expelled, now!” His voice echoed across the schoolyard, drawing a crowd. Olivia was there to pick up Ayla. Seeing the scene, she looked as if she’d been waiting for this all day, a smirk playing on her lips. “My, my, what a vicious little monster. Doesn’t seem like a child at all…” she stage-whispered. “And on the first day, too. Well, you’re in for a rough ride.” With that, she turned away, pulling Ayla with her. “Come on, sweetie, Mommy’s taking you shopping for pretty dresses.” “Homework? What homework! You’re going to be a star…” “Don’t look back. Why are you staring at that little hooligan?” I ignored Olivia and handed my business card to the angry father, promising to cover all medical expenses and offer financial compensation. The police officer, seeing my cooperative attitude, helped mediate. Perhaps the Sterling name still carried some weight. After glancing at the card, the father’s expression, while still hostile, lost some of its edge. He grudgingly accepted the wire transfer and stormed off, still muttering insults under his breath. I pretended not to hear and led Leo to the car, wanting to avoid any more drama. He remained silent, his head down. I didn’t press him. It wasn’t until he noticed we were driving in the direction of the orphanage that a flicker of panic crossed his face. He shot a furtive glance at me, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. 4 I pulled over at an urgent care clinic and had his cuts treated. “We’re running late. The housekeeper’s dinner is probably cold by now.” “What do you feel like eating? My treat.” I looked at the small bandage on his forehead and smiled. “You earned yourself a battle wound today. We need to refuel.” Leo stared at me. “I… I caused so much trouble. Aren’t you going to punish me?” He paused, then glanced nervously toward the intersection again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I thought… I thought you were taking me back.” “No one sends their son back to the orphanage. Don’t be silly,” I said gently. “As for what happened today, I’m sure you had your reasons.” “You can tell me if you want, or you can keep it to yourself. It’s over and done with.” Leo looked up, a flicker of light in his dark eyes. “He was bullying my deskmate,” he mumbled. “And he told me to mind my own business, so… I hit him.” “I know it was wrong… From now on, I’ll try…” I smiled and finished his sentence for him. “From now on, you’ll make sure to protect yourself first, my little hero, my brave boy.” A real smile, bright and genuine, finally broke through his tough exterior. He touched the bandage on his head, embarrassed. “Okay.” I couldn’t help but remember the last life. Olivia hadn’t bothered to ask Leo why he fought. She’d just thrown money at the other parents and threatened them with the Sterling family name. Back home, she had praised him. “That’s my boy! Making a name for yourself on the first day.” “That’s the spirit. Anyone messes with you, you let your fists do the talking. The Sterlings will clean up any mess you make.” “You’re the future heir to this family. That little girl Daisy adopted? She doesn’t stand a chance.” “Your grandfather loves a man with a killer instinct.” Young Leo didn’t understand what a “killer instinct” was. All he knew was that he’d hit someone and been rewarded for it. Perhaps that was the moment the first seed of evil was planted in his heart. This life, I would never let it bloom. 5 Leo was, indeed, incredibly smart and a diligent student. Ayla had been the same way in our past life. But this time, under Olivia’s care, Ayla barely had time for school. Olivia claimed that studying was useless. Ayla was destined to be a star. Why waste time on books when she could be building her brand? So she enrolled Ayla in an endless series of lessons. Piano, dance, vocals, modeling… Every day, Olivia pulled Ayla out of school early to shuttle her from one class to another. Her wardrobe became shockingly mature for an elementary schooler. Ayla’s teachers called for meetings several times, but Olivia arrogantly ignored them. I happened to witness one of these confrontations. “My daughter is going to be in show business. Could you please stop wasting her time?” Olivia said, her voice dripping with condescension. “We’re not doing the homework, and we don’t care about test scores.” “Look, Ms. Davison, have you said your piece? One of her piano lessons costs a few hundred dollars. Are you going to reimburse me for the time you’re wasting?” Olivia was a brick wall. Ayla’s homeroom teacher eventually gave up. Freed from any oversight, Olivia grew bolder, often making Ayla skip school for modeling gigs and fashion shows, all while building up her social media presence to cultivate a following. Soon, Ayla started booking commercials for children’s clothing brands and began earning money. Olivia was ecstatic. But I was consumed with worry. This was the child I had poured my heart into for eight years in a past life. Even if she wasn’t my daughter this time, the affection remained. Ayla was so young, her worldview still fragile. Under Olivia’s influence, there was no telling what kind of person she would become. But Olivia and I lived separately, and I rarely got a chance to see Ayla. At a family dinner, Olivia couldn’t stop bragging to our father about Ayla’s follower count and how much she earned per ad. I couldn’t stand it any longer and tried to gently intervene. “She’s still so young. There’s no rush to make money. It’s more important to focus on her studies for now, and then later…” Olivia cut me off with a cold laugh before I could finish. “Oh, listen to you. Sour grapes, much? You’re just jealous my daughter is so successful!” “Is it because your son is busy getting into fights every other day that you can’t stand to see my daughter thriving?” “Instead of worrying about our Ayla, you should keep a closer eye on your own son. Wouldn’t want him to actually kill someone this time!” Since adopting Ayla, Olivia had been so obsessed with creating a “star” that she paid no attention to Leo. She had no idea that the little troublemaker from our past life was transforming into a responsible, considerate, and honorable young man under my care. And Ayla… “Ayla, you really should keep up with your studies…” I couldn’t help myself, patting her shoulder as they were leaving. “Leave me alone!” Ayla violently shrugged off my hand and shoved me. Her face was set in a defiant pout I’d never seen before. Just then, Olivia emerged from the other room and saw the exchange. She shot me a triumphant, venomous look and lowered her voice. “Daisy, don’t you forget, that little murderer is your son now.” “Stay away from my Ayla. She doesn’t want anything to do with you.” I lowered my eyes, my face impassive. After Olivia and Ayla left, I went back to my room. Clutched in my palm was a small, folded piece of paper Ayla had pressed into it when she shoved me. “Mom, don’t worry.” The four words, written in the delicate script she had practiced for eight years in our past life, hit me like a lightning bolt. I stood frozen in place. Ayla… she was reborn, too.

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My brother, sick of watching me suffer through a ten-year crush, drugged his best friend and delivered him to my bed. I was forced to be the antidote. When we woke up, Jeff Stone coldly agreed to marry me. But soon after the wedding, he left the country. Our daughter and I waited for three years, and when he finally came back, I took her to the airport to meet him. The moment our daughter called out “Daddy,” the woman on his arm, Claire Lowe, couldn’t handle the betrayal. She ran off, right into the path of a drunk driver, and was killed instantly. After that, Jeff never smiled again. He stayed, watching over me and our daughter day and night. I thought my suffering was finally over. But on our daughter’s third birthday, our house caught fire. My first instinct was to save them both, but as I ran to their room, Jeff calmly locked the door, his eyes filled with a chilling, bottomless hatred. “If it weren’t for you two, Claire would never have died,” he whispered through the door. “Every day since she’s been gone has been a living hell. I’ve wanted to drag you both down to join her for a long time.” As the flames consumed us, I finally understood the depths of his hatred. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back on that fateful night, the night Jeff was drugged. As he stumbled towards me, his face flushed and his eyes hazed with desire, I shoved him away with all my might and grabbed my phone to call his one true love… 1 A ragged gasp tore through the air, sending a shiver down my spine. My eyes snapped to the source. Jeff was on the bed, his face flushed with a feverish heat. The top buttons of his black shirt were undone, and it was clear he was losing control. “Nina, come here…” he rasped, his eyes dazed as they found me. In my past life, I would have rushed to his side, my heart aching for him. But now, I scrambled back in terror. It was this night, this one night, that sealed our fate. We were both drugged, and we fell into bed together. Afterwards, he had coldly agreed to marry me, only to spend years abroad, completely indifferent to whether our daughter and I lived or died. I only learned the truth later. He went abroad to be with his true love, Claire. He only came back that day to finally end things with me. But when our daughter called him “Daddy,” the shock sent Claire running to her death, and Jeff’s grief turned into a murderous hatred for us. But that mistake hadn’t been made yet. If I wasn’t the one to be his antidote tonight, then my daughter and I could escape that horrific fate. Without a second’s hesitation, I dialed Claire’s number. “Is this Claire? You need to get to the Grand Althea Hotel, Room 32. Now.” I braced myself against the door, keeping Jeff’s burning-hot body on the other side. At the same time, a familiar heat began to spread through my own veins. I remembered what my brother had said in my past life as he’d pushed me into the room, his heart aching for my unrequited love. “Nina, you and Jeff have been dancing around each other for years. It’s driving me crazy. I’m just giving you two a little push. It’s time he became my brother-in-law!” “Leo, are you trying to kill me?” I had begged. “Let me out!” He’d just chuckled, shoving me into Jeff’s arms. “I put something in your drink, too. Just enjoy it. You’ll thank me in the morning.” A bitter smile touched my lips. Oh, Leo. Jeff doesn’t love me. He never has. Fifteen minutes later, a frantic, pale-faced Claire arrived. She eyed me suspiciously. “Nina, everyone in our circle knows you’re obsessed with Jeff. Why would you be so… helpful? Wasn’t he having dinner with your brother tonight? How did he get drugged? Is this some kind of trick?” She was wary, but when she peeked inside and saw that it was indeed Jeff, her expression shifted. I pushed her towards the room. “There’s no time to explain. Miss Lowe, I know you and Jeff have feelings for each other. You don’t want some other woman to have him tonight, do you? He needs you. He’s about to lose it.” I had no idea where my brother had gotten that drug, but it was brutally effective. In my past life, while Jeff still had a shred of control, he had bitten through his own tongue and snapped the bones in his fingers trying to resist. In the end, it wasn’t enough. But now, with Claire here, he wouldn’t have to fight it anymore. A low groan came from inside the room. The veins on Jeff’s forehead and neck bulged. Claire stared, her cheeks flushing. She straightened her dress, tossing me a smug look. “Well, at least you know your place. You didn’t try to take advantage of him. Now that I’m here, you can give up… wait, why is your face so red?” I just shook my head, urging her to go inside. The moment Jeff’s hands tore at the strap of Claire’s dress, I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled the door closed. The sounds that followed were muffled but unmistakable. Every moan, every gasp, was a knife twisting in my heart. I couldn’t bear it. I turned and fled the hotel. The drug was starting to kick in. In my past life, half the reason I couldn’t push Jeff away was because the drug had shattered my own willpower. While I still had my wits about me, I stumbled to a stop in front of an exclusive-looking private club and staggered inside. A young host smiled at me. “Good evening, miss. How may I help you?” I clutched my head, trying to clear the fog. “I need to hire an escort.” He blinked, then professionally guided me to a private suite. I don’t know how long I waited, but eventually the door opened and a man walked in. He was tall and impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. His gaze fell on my disheveled clothes, and he froze. Before he could speak, I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his. “I’ve been drugged,” I whispered. “Please… help me.” The man stiffened. I felt him frown, his hands coming up to push me away. “Is it money?” I gasped, fumbling in my pocket. “I’ll pay you anything! Anything you want!” I shoved my credit card into his hand and reached for his belt. 2 Through the haze, I thought I heard the man say my name. “Nina, don’t do this…” So noisy. I shut him up with another kiss. It worked. No wonder this club was so popular. The escorts weren’t just handsome; they knew how to play hard to get. Finally, I heard a sigh from above me. “You started this. Don’t you dare regret it.” Then he flipped me onto my back, his mouth crashing down on mine in a storm of raw, pent-up passion. After a night of tangled limbs and fevered whispers, I woke with a jolt before dawn. It took me a moment to remember where I was and what I’d done. I’d slept with a stranger. An escort from a club. He was still asleep. I quietly dressed and slipped out. As I passed the large plate-glass window of a department store, I saw my reflection. My clothes were torn, and my neck was a canvas of angry red marks. I hurried home, hoping to sneak in before my brother woke up. I slipped through the door and was about to tiptoe up the stairs when a cold voice stopped me. “Where were you last night?” Jeff was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. I froze. Wasn’t he supposed to be with Claire? I could see the faint marks of her kisses on his neck. His eyes were lazy, but sharp. I looked down, my heart sinking. I had thought that after last night, Jeff and I would be finished. I could finally start seeing him as just my brother’s friend. “I… just went for a walk,” I mumbled. “Why are you back so soon?” Jeff’s new villa was being renovated, so he’d been staying with us for a few months. I glanced around. “Where’s Claire? Didn’t she come back with you?” In an instant, his expression darkened. “Nina, where were you? And who did this to you?” I realized he was talking about the marks on my neck. I instinctively pulled my collar up. “It’s nothing. Mosquito bites.” A cold, humorless laugh escaped him. “Don’t play dumb. I know your brother drugged your drink, too.” “What, did your little plan backfire? Couldn’t sleep with me, so you ran out and found some other man?” he sneered. “Nina, did you really think calling Claire over and then disappearing for a night would make me worry about you? That’s a pathetic way to play hard to get.” I was stunned. Why was he so angry? I had given him exactly what he wanted. A bitter taste filled my mouth. He thought my sacrifice was just some childish game. His voice was like ice. “As you can see, Claire and I were together last night. I’m going to marry her. So whatever little games you’re playing, I suggest you stop.” I looked down, a small, sad smile on my lips. “Fine.” “I’m sorry about what my brother did, but…” I looked up, meeting his gaze. “I’m really not in love with you anymore.” He stared at me, his brow furrowed in disbelief. Everyone in our circle knew I was in love with him. I’d refused countless dates and set-ups, all for him. But now I knew better. I wouldn’t bring a daughter into this world just to watch her die in despair. Jeff opened his mouth to say something, but my brother’s terrified shriek cut him off. “A GHOST! There’s a ghost in the house!” Leo came sprinting down the stairs, pointing a trembling finger back towards a guest room. “Claire! When did she get here?” Jeff calmly closed the bedroom door. “I brought her back last night. She was exhausted and doesn’t like hotels.” “What?!” My brother shot a complicated look from Jeff to me. “So… you two didn’t… last night?” His eyes darted between the marks on my neck and the ones on Jeff’s. “Leo, I’m going back to bed,” I said, making a quick escape. From my room, I could faintly hear them arguing, my brother demanding to know what had happened. At lunchtime, Leo knocked on my door. I didn’t get up. “I’m not hungry, Leo. You guys go ahead.” A moment later, I heard Claire’s light, tinkling laugh. “Let me try. After all, it’s thanks to Nina that Jeff and I are finally together.” 3 The knock came again, softer this time. “Nina, it’s Claire. Please, for my sake, come out and have some lunch with us.” My parents had always taught me to be polite to guests. I sighed and opened the door. At the table, Jeff was silent, but he was piling food onto Claire’s plate. Soon, it was a small mountain. “Jeff, darling, Nina is right here,” Claire cooed. “She’s already upset about last night. You’re going to make her even more jealous.” Jeff shot me a cold look. “What’s there to be jealous about? You’re the one I’m going to marry. I see her as a sister, just like Leo does.” I said nothing, forcing down mouthfuls of rice that tasted like ash. My brother opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, sighing. A bit of food was left on the corner of Claire’s lips. Jeff reached over to wipe it away, but she stopped him with a playful smile. “No, silly. I want you to kiss it off.” She leaned in, offering her lips. Jeff hesitated for a second, then smiled and leaned in to kiss her. Claire turned to me, her eyes glinting with triumph. “Don’t mind us, Nina. Jeff’s had a taste of it now, you know. You’re still single, but you’ll understand when you get a boyfriend.” The meal was torture. I put down my chopsticks. “I’m full. You two enjoy.” After lunch, my brother finally exploded. “You idiot! You had the perfect opportunity last night! Why did you just hand him over to that two-faced witch?” “Jeff might be blind to her games, but I’m not! That whole display at the table was just to spite you! I told you two had feelings for each other…” “Leo, stop,” I interrupted. “Don’t say things like that anymore.” He stared at me, bewildered. I smiled. “I don’t love Jeff anymore. Leo, can you set me up on a date?” My brother was, first and foremost, my protector. After making sure I wasn’t joking, he let out a long sigh of relief. “Finally, little sis! You finally see the light! I told you not to waste your life on one guy. Jeff’s a great catch, but there are plenty of other fish in the sea.” “I’ll call Marcus Thorne right away. You know, the one you turned down last year? His family’s company is way bigger than the Stones’, he’s handsome, and just like you, he’s never been in a serious relationship. Just meet him. You might actually like him.” I dutifully added him as a contact. I had thought letting go of Jeff would be agony, but now that I had, it was just… quiet. This time, I could change everything. “Jeff, darling, can you help me take my suitcase up to your room?” Claire’s voice chirped from the hallway. She turned to me. “Nina, Jeff’s villa isn’t ready yet, and he wants me around all the time, so I’ll be staying here for a few days. You don’t mind, do you?” “Of course not,” I said, shaking my head. I watched Jeff haul her luggage, a bitter smile on my face. In my past life, after our one-night stand, Jeff had sent Claire abroad under the guise of “furthering her studies” to keep her from being hurt. After our rushed wedding, he had joined her, leaving me to give birth to our daughter, Anya, alone. I had waited and waited, only for him to return holding Claire’s hand. His eyes, when they looked at me then, were always cold. Not like now, when they looked at Claire with such warmth. I turned to leave and bumped into something hard. Claire, who had been carrying a basin of water, let out a startled cry as it splashed all over her. “Claire!” Jeff’s head snapped up. He rushed over, pulling her into his arms and glaring at me. Claire sobbed against his chest. “Nina, if you didn’t want me to stay, you could have just said so. This dress was a gift from Jeff. It was very expensive, and I cherished it. Why did you have to ruin it on purpose?” “I didn’t! It was an accident…” I stammered. “Enough!” Jeff’s voice was sharp. “Nina, I told you to stop with these games. If you don’t want Claire here, we’ll move out the day after tomorrow.” He didn’t give me a chance to explain, just swept Claire up in his arms to go change. As he carried her away, she hooked her arm around his neck and shot me a victorious smirk. 4 When Claire came back downstairs wearing the dress I treasured most, my blood ran cold. “You’ve never worn it since I gave it to you,” Jeff said, as if that explained everything. “Claire can wear it for now.” I gave a weak, bitter smile. I hadn’t worn it because it was too precious. It was the only birthday gift Jeff had ever given me. After he found out about my crush, the gifts stopped. That dress was my secret treasure. But now, I just nodded numbly. “Fine. It doesn’t fit me anymore. I was going to get rid of it anyway.” For the next few days, Claire was constantly draped over Jeff, their public displays of affection clearly meant for me. The day he officially proposed to her, I was so distracted that I got into a minor car accident. I was fine, but a passerby insisted on taking me to the hospital. They came to visit me as a group. Claire’s face immediately crumpled. “Jeff, do you think… do you think Nina did this on purpose? Because we got engaged?” “It’s all my fault,” she whimpered. “If I hadn’t pushed you to propose, this never would have happened…” “It has nothing to do with you,” Jeff soothed her. “Hush. I ordered you that milkshake you like. It should be here. Why don’t you go get it?” The moment Claire was gone, Jeff’s face hardened. “Nina, did you really have to pull a stunt like this on our engagement day? Are you that desperate to break us up? I told you to give it up! There will never be anything between us!” I just smiled faintly. “You’re mistaken, Jeff. I only see you as a brother. And my accident had nothing to do with you.” He didn’t believe me. “Claire and I are getting married soon,” he said, his voice softer but still firm. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll find a boyfriend and get over me.” “I already have one,” I said. “You don’t have to lie!” he snapped, an irrational anger flaring in his eyes. Just then, Claire returned with the milkshakes. She smiled as she handed one to me, deliberately flashing the diamond ring on her finger. “Nina, just give it up. The more you act out, the more Jeff will hate you. See this? I’m the only one he loves. He put this ring on my finger himself. It’s over.” As they were leaving, Jeff gave me one last, long look. “And even if you don’t have a boyfriend, it doesn’t matter. You’re Leo’s sister, which makes you my sister. As long as you drop these ridiculous fantasies, I can take care of you for the rest of your life.” At his words, Claire shot me a look of pure venom, though she quickly masked it. “That’s right. You can think of me as your big sister, too. Jeff and I will both look after you.” But I wasn’t lying. I really did have a boyfriend. My gaze softened as I looked at the gardenia on my bedside table. A gift from Marcus Thorne. At first, I had only agreed to the date to appease my brother. But when I got to the coffee shop, I realized Marcus was the man from the club. I blushed, mortified, but he just chuckled, backing me into a corner. “Shy now? You weren’t so shy the other night.” I was ready to die of embarrassment and never speak to him again, but a few days later, I was followed by a creep on my way home from work. Marcus appeared out of nowhere, landed a few solid punches, and drove me home. “I thought you were an escort,” I said in the car. He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “Who told you that? You were the one who was so desperate you grabbed the first man you saw. You’re lucky I was there inspecting my club that night. Who knows what kind of creep you might have ended up with.” I punched his arm, and he caught my hand, pulling it into his lap. “Nina, I’ve liked you for a long time. Be my girlfriend.” Even the car accident had been because of him. He’d told me he was planning to propose, and I’d been so lost in thought that I hadn’t looked before crossing the street. Every time I thought of his face, a quiet joy bloomed in my chest. After I was discharged, I was out of the house from dawn till dusk. One night, I came home late to find Jeff waiting for me by the door. His expression was complicated. “Nina, have you been avoiding me?” I blinked, then laughed. “You’re overthinking things.” But he blocked my path, his hand shooting out to grip my wrist. “You’d better be. Claire and I are getting married soon. I’m warning you, don’t try anything.” I pulled my hand away. “I wish you a long and happy marriage,” I said sincerely. His expression finally softened, but then his eyes fell to my neck, and his face contorted. “Who did that? Don’t tell me it was a mosquito again.” It was a mark Marcus had insisted on leaving that afternoon, a way of “claiming his territory.” Before, I would have hidden it, but now, I had nothing to hide. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” His face grew even darker. I walked past him, not noticing Claire hiding in the shadows, her face pale with jealousy. The next day, I got a text from Marcus. “My treasure, I’m taking you somewhere special.” I was about to head out when I saw Claire in the backyard, playing on my old swing set. “Nina!” Jeff’s voice called out. I ignored it and left. But when I got home that night, he kicked my bedroom door open, his face a mask of fury. He slapped me, hard. “Nina, how could you be so vicious? Just because Claire used your swing set, you had to sabotage it to make her fall? She’s in the hospital now. Are you happy?”

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My brother, Liam, defied the rules of our world for me. Instead of doting on the story’s protagonist, the fake heiress, he chose to care for me, the real one. Every time he was kind to me, the System that governed our lives would punish him with an electric shock. He told me he’d rather be electrocuted to death than stop loving his true sister. And yet, the night before I was scheduled to give my valedictorian speech, I was abducted, dragged to an abandoned construction site, and violated by a gang of thugs. They broke all my limbs and cut out my tongue. In my final moments of despair, I somehow connected to my brother’s System. [Host, you sent a live location to the gang and told them to torture your sister until she was crippled. Don’t you think it’s time to call them off?] My brother’s voice, as cold and smooth as marble, replied. “I can’t. This part of the plot is non-negotiable. We can’t let it happen to Isabelle, can we?” “Besides, Sophia is the destined protagonist of a ‘pampered-by-all’ novel. No matter how much damage she takes, she’ll regenerate. This is just… making the most of her.” “When it’s all over, I’ll be twice as good to her to make up for it.” My heart turned to ash. I stopped fighting death. 1 “Damn, the valedictorian is tougher than she looks.” “We’ve had more than twenty guys go at her, and she’s still breathing…” In the dark, filthy cell, the instruments of torture, caked with my own flesh and blood, were piled high in a corner. A hulking man grabbed my chin, forcing my head up. He saw the way I’d bitten my lips to shreds from the pain and let out a booming laugh. “Well, well, look at the precious Miss Thorne. After getting a taste of the boys, you’re looking even more tender and juicy!” His thumb ground against my lips. Then, with a sudden jerk, he ripped the filthy gag from my mouth. “You know, we’ve had our fun with the back door, but I haven’t had a taste of this mouth yet.” “I wonder how it compares to the girls downtown?” Before I could spit a curse, another one of them chimed in. “It’s even better when there’s only half a tongue left.” I saw their eyes fix on me, and I scrambled backward in terror. A second later, a hand tangled in my hair, slamming my head against the concrete floor. A flash of cold steel. I screamed, clamping my hands over my mouth as blood erupted between my fingers. The searing pain was a relentless hammer against my nerves, making me want to smash my own head against the wall just to make it stop. Through the haze, someone yanked me up by my hair… And on the brink of death, I heard a conversation. A sterile, electronic voice: [Liam, your sister, Sophia, is at her absolute limit. Any more of this, and she will suffer a complete mental and physical collapse. She will die. You have to stop this!] I thought I was hallucinating, my mind playing tricks on me as I died. “No!” The voice that answered… it was truly my brother’s. He was the only person in our family who had ever been kind to me, but now, his tone was utterly detached. “Sophia is the story’s destined protagonist. She can’t die this easily.” “Keep going. Tell them not to hold back. Only when she suffers the same fate Isabelle did in the last life can we fool destiny… Only then can Isabelle live a good life.” The System seemed to hesitate. My brother, sensing this, added confidently, “She’s been abused since she was a child. This is nothing she can’t handle… It’s all about utility.” [When you insisted on binding Sophia as the target for this mission, you set this course. Now you have to see it through.] The mechanical voice sighed with resignation. My brother scoffed. “What’s the rush? Sophia won’t die. Better to get it all over with at once than to have to do it again, but worse, next time…” His voice was gentle, but each word was a knife in my heart. “She’s the only one in this world who can cheat fate. It’s not what I want, but it’s the only way. She has to take Isabelle’s place in this fated death, so our family can be whole and happy for the rest of our lives.” “Isabelle is my sister, too. I can’t just stand by and watch her be brutalized and left to die, can I?!” “…I have to ensure she has a safe and happy future. Only then can I rest.” I coughed, and a spray of dark blood spattered the floor. The pain burned my heart to cinders. So that’s all I was. A tool for my brother to save someone else. “Tch, what a buzzkill. Her face is covered in blood…” More brutes appeared, laying me flat on an iron table, their hands roaming over my body. Two needles pierced my chest, sharp and deep. “Man, if the valedictorian wears these to her speech tomorrow, haha, imagine if someone sees them! Everyone will know what a little slut she is!” “Take more pictures. We could sell them as a set.” One of them set up a high-definition camera, aiming it directly at my face. Through waves of agony, I was torn apart. Again. And again. 2 It was horrifying. Excruciating. And the person who had orchestrated this inhuman suffering was the one who had been my reason for surviving in this world—my own brother, Liam. “Hey, valedictorian, guess what?” one of the men whispered, his teeth sinking into my earlobe. “Back when you were hiding at school…” “Why do you think we could always find you, no matter where you ran, no matter which corner you hid in?” He tore his teeth away. Through the blinding pain, I remembered the nightmarish footsteps and shadows that had haunted me for weeks. I thought back to the conversation I’d just overheard. The truth dawned on me. And with it, a deeper despair. “Since you’ve been such a good girl for us, I’ll let you in on the secret—” “It was the family ID your parents linked to you at your ‘welcome home’ party.” I couldn’t stop shaking. A profound, soul-crushing sorrow washed over me. I never imagined that the very people I would have called for help would be the ones to betray me. We were bound by blood, yet they treated me like an enemy. Even the one exception, my dear brother… [Warning! Protagonist Sophia’s life signs are critical. World stability is at risk of imminent collapse!] The System’s alarm blared in my mind. I heard it. A tiny, pathetic flicker of hope ignited in my chest. No matter what, he wouldn’t drag the entire world down with him just to save Isabelle, would he? My brother spoke, his words sharp and cold as ice. “Shut up, System! All that’s left is the castration. That will complete the ritual.” “How can we stop at such a critical moment?!” “If we stop, Isabelle will have to suffer through this, and she won’t survive! Our family won’t be whole! All my efforts will have been for nothing. I won’t allow it!” The mechanical being seemed stunned. [Enough! What does Isabelle’s fate have to do with her?] [How long has she been back with this family? And she’s already been torn to shreds for you!] [If anyone owes a debt here, it’s all of you who owe her… Why are you torturing the victim?] Liam sounded like he was in agony. His voice was a hysterical, distorted roar. “You think I don’t know that?!” “But she’s the only one who can survive a situation that guarantees death!” “We’ve come this far! Better to sacrifice one part of her than to let Isabelle die a horrible death!” “And Sophia is the protagonist! She won’t die!” “I’m protecting my family’s future! Don’t you understand?!” He finished his rant, wiped his face, and his voice became chillingly calm. “Don’t worry. I won’t let her die.” “After she’s fulfilled her purpose, I’ll have someone call an ambulance. Even if she’s on a catheter for the rest of her life, a vegetable, I’ll take care of her.” But would that be living? My heart went cold. I closed my eyes, shutting out the physical pain they were inflicting on my body. …It’s fine. No one cares about me. It’s no loss if I die. My will to live evaporated completely. I let my soul drift downward. Into the abyss. [Damn it! Someone go save her! She’s not breathing!] The System was panicking now, its voice a frantic shout. I couldn’t hear my brother’s voice anymore. It was as if my mind had blocked him out, the one person who swore he would protect me, the one who had hurt me the most. [Enough, stop! Why are you still desecrating her corpse?!] [You’re all insane! Insane!] [Stop it! Stop!!] [Sophia! Sophia, you can’t die… You can’t die!] The noise was a chaotic storm in my head. With the last shred of my strength, I forced my eyelids open. My body was a ruin. The “men” in the room were still laughing, their faces twisted into monstrous grins. At some point, they had even brought in hyenas. I watched them play. A desolate coldness filled me. And only then, fashionably late, did my brother burst through the door with his people. His face was as white as a sheet. He flew to my side. “Sophia, don’t be afraid… brother’s here! Please, don’t you die on me…” 3 When I woke up, I was in a hospital. An oxygen mask covered my face, and tubes snaked out of my body. The only thing I could move was my eyelids. My teachers and classmates, people I hadn’t seen in months, came to visit with flowers and fruit. They saw the girl they once envied, the golden child, now reduced to a broken shell waiting to die. They sighed with pity and sorrow. “This is just too tragic. She can’t speak, can’t write… How is she supposed to live?” “She was our valedictorian! Now, none of the top universities are even mentioning her name…” “God, today was supposed to be her day of glory.” “…Liam, you have to make those monsters pay!” A complex, pained emotion flashed in Liam’s eyes. He looked at me, then at everyone in the room, and made a solemn promise. “Don’t worry. I will make those devils pay for what they’ve done!” The sound of his voice triggered my deepest nightmare. I began to tremble uncontrollably. “Beep-beep-beep—Alert! Alert!” “I told you the patient needs absolute calm! Why are you agitating her?” A nurse rushed in, silencing the blaring alarm on the heart monitor. My brother looked at me, confused, then explained helplessly. “Sophia is my beloved sister! Why would I ever upset her?” “Back when she had that stalker, my voice was the only thing that could calm her down. She would only fall asleep peacefully if she was lying with her head in my lap while I massaged her temples…” His words were a bitter irony. The days when he was my only salvation were gone forever. He was the one who swore to love me, and he was the one who had turned me into this ghost. The thought made me sick with grief and pain. The life-support machines flashed red again, and I was rushed back into the emergency room. Liam paced anxiously outside, muttering to himself. “She’ll live, right? She has to live… And she’ll never know, right? She can’t know…” That afternoon, after I was moved out of the ER, I heard the local news playing on the TV in my room. Isabelle was giving the valedictorian speech at my high school in my place. She looked radiant. It was a stake through my eyes, a spike in my ears. “Hahaha, how does it feel? Beaten half to death by a bunch of men, unable to even speak?” The fake heiress, Isabelle, suddenly burst into my room, a triumphant sneer on her face. “Your dear, loving brother did all of this. For me.” I pretended not to react. But my heart still clenched in an agony I couldn’t control. Thank you, Liam. Thank you for reminding me, once again, that the person who hurt me the most was my own flesh and blood. Seeing that her taunts weren’t working, Isabelle’s face twisted in rage, and she beckoned a group of people into the room. A horde of sleazy tabloid reporters with cameras and microphones flooded in. Trailing behind them were the very men my brother had sworn to punish that morning. “Well, hello there, valedictorian.” “This time, you get to star in your own little show. A little something extra for the kids back at school, you know?” “Haha, this is gonna sell like crazy!” one of the reporters exclaimed, his eyes gleaming. My wounds tore open, and fresh blood poured out, staining the white sheets crimson. “What are you all doing?!” My brother burst through the door. His face went pale with fury. “Get out! All of you, get out!” Isabelle quickly shooed the men into hiding, then turned to Liam with a perfectly innocent expression. “Liam, don’t misunderstand! Sophia hired them! I think… I think she can’t accept that she’s gone from being the top student to a useless cripple, so she staged all this for sympathy…” Liam looked at me with disbelief. “I can’t believe you’ve become this kind of person. You’ve disappointed me so much.” He turned to the nurses. “Cut off all her medication!” I plunged into the abyss. The world went silent, save for the steady beeping of the machines. “Enjoy it,” Isabelle whispered as they left. “This is a graduation gift from me and your family.” I don’t know how long the pain lasted. The next thing I heard was a final, cold decree from the System. [The protagonist is dead. World collapse countdown initiated.]

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