My wife, who had been dead for seven years, suddenly came back to life. Not only did she bring another man with her, She wanted me to voluntarily give up my position as her husband. “Gavin nearly lost his sight saving me. I’ve already promised to marry him. If you sign the divorce papers without a fuss, I’ll let you continue living here.” I was silent for a moment, then spoke softly. “Actually, I’m already married to someone else.” My wife rolled her eyes. “Don’t play tough, Sean. Everyone knows you’re head over heels in love with me.” 1 But I was no longer the Sean from seven years ago. I was no longer the doormat who followed her every command, who worshipped her until I had no dignity left. “I have no reason to lie to you. I am married to someone else.” Rosa shot me a look of pure contempt and sneered, “Stop the act, Sean. I’m not here to ask for your permission. I’m here to inform you that whether you like it or not, I’m marrying Gavin.” Gavin stepped forward, his fingers intertwining with hers. His voice was a lazy, innocent drawl. “Rosa, darling, don’t fight with Sean. It’s just my bad luck. Maybe you should just send me back.” He feigned leaving, but his hand clutched the hem of her dress, and his eyes, when they met mine, were full of triumphant possession. Rosa’s expression softened instantly. “Gavin, you promised you’d stay with me forever.” She looked back at me. “Don’t worry. Sean is crazy about me. He always does what I say. We’ll definitely get married.” Seven years had done nothing to diminish Rosa’s baffling self-confidence. Before I could speak again, she was glaring at me, her voice sharp with warning. “You’ve enjoyed the title of the Crestwood family’s golden son-in-law for seven years. It’s time to let Gavin have his turn. He’s suffered too much, and I won’t let you bully him.” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “I haven’t done a thing. Don’t try to pin this on me.” Rosa’s eyes narrowed. She looked me up and down, her face a blank mask. “Do you think you’re important? If it weren’t for the fact that you waited seven years for me, I would have thrown you out of the Crestwood estate long ago. I wouldn’t be wasting my breath on you.” Throw me out? She wouldn’t get the chance. And what on earth made her think I’d waited seven years for her? The day she abandoned me was the day I stopped waiting. Seven years ago, I was in a tuxedo, sitting in the lead car of a wedding procession, driving through the mountains to pick up my bride. But she ran away. On the way, there was a landslide. While I was out of the car checking the road, Rosa supposedly slipped and fell from a cliff. For seven years, everyone thought she was dead. I even picked out her gravesite myself. Marrying into the Crestwood family was an opportunity my father had fought tooth and nail to secure for me. Rosa could afford to be careless with my family’s reputation, but I couldn’t. Besides, she wasn’t the only woman in her family. For the past seven years, I had been a husband and a father. If she hadn’t suddenly reappeared, I would have completely forgotten she ever existed. So, seeing her again after all this time, I felt nothing. “Rosa, let me repeat myself. You and I are no longer husband and wife,” I stated calmly. “Legally speaking, you are a deceased person. Who you marry has nothing to do with me.” 2 Rosa let out a dismissive scoff. “At least you know your place. If you hadn’t been so obsessed with marrying me back then, I wouldn’t have had to flee the country and hide for seven years.” So that was it. I always wondered how, with so many people there, she was the only one who died. It was a vanishing act. She hadn’t changed at all—still willing to do anything to get her way. When the news of her “death” arrived, her mother fainted on the spot and was sick for months, nearly following her daughter to the grave. The family butler, who had just arrived, overheard her words. “Miss Rosa, please don’t say such things.” He bowed his head slightly. “Mr. Sean is now the Vice President of Crestwood Industries.” “Vice President?” Gavin’s eyes darkened beside her. He asked, seemingly casually, “Rosa, didn’t you say your grandfather would only pass the position of President to you?” Rosa froze for a second, looking at me with confusion. “My father only has one daughter. Who else is qualified to inherit the presidency besides me?” I stared back at her, my expression unreadable. Did she leave her brain overseas? Did she have any idea how foolish she sounded? The butler was sweating, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. “Miss Rosa, what are you saying? Mr. Sean is married to Miss Victoria. She is the President of the company now. Don’t you remember? Your aunt.” The day Rosa ran out on our wedding, I was left standing on the road, surrounded by the pitying and mocking stares of onlookers. That was when Victoria stepped forward. She said she would marry me. At that moment, I was lost and powerless. Everyone knew it was my wedding day, but my bride had died on the way to the ceremony. “Wife-killer,” “bad luck,” “jinx”—those words nailed me to a pillar of shame. Then suddenly, someone offered to marry me, to prove to the world that I wasn’t what they said I was. She would save my family’s honor and pull me out of the abyss. Why wouldn’t I say yes? Victoria hadn’t planned on attending her niece’s wedding; she only came back to the country because her father, the family patriarch, had insisted. Yet, she ended up becoming my wife. Rosa looked at me with a mocking laugh. “Everyone knows my Aunt Victoria is a powerhouse, that she only cares about her career. She wouldn’t even glance at a doormat like Sean.” Victoria was a legendary figure in the city’s business world. Half of the Crestwood family’s assets were her personal property. Within the family, she was treated like an empress. To this day, I still didn’t fully understand why she married me. There were so many men more handsome and wealthier than me. The butler was still trying to reason with Rosa. “It’s true, Miss Rosa. You can check the news online, or ask anyone in the family.” Rosa just curled her lip in disdain. She randomly pointed to a gardener, then a maid. Both gave her the same answer. Her composure finally cracked. Her face went cold as she stared at me. “Well done, Sean. What a master manipulator. I’ve only been gone a few years, and you’ve already turned everyone in this house against me, making them all lie for you.” I remained calm, unwilling to argue. I was married to Victoria. That was a fact. Whether Rosa believed it or not was irrelevant to me. She had been spoiled her entire life. Fearing she would continue to cause a scene, the butler quickly sent someone to call Victoria. “Quick, call the President’s secretary. Ask her to come home immediately.” Victoria was in a meeting for a major aerospace project today and had left for the office early. My father-in-law and Rosa’s mother were also out. Otherwise, Rosa would never have had the chance to torment me like this. During the standoff, my daughter, Zoe, suddenly ran into the room. “Daddy, why didn’t you come back to play with me?” 3 When Rosa saw Zoe, her face twisted in rage. The reason was simple: Zoe was a miniature, female version of me. Rosa’s eyes darted back and forth between me and the child. Finally, she raised a trembling hand and pointed at me. “How dare you betray me. You even have a bastard child.” “Who is this little bastard with?” Zoe inherited Victoria’s personality. While she didn’t fully understand the word, she knew it wasn’t a compliment. She put a hand on her chin like a little adult and said, “Who are you calling a bastard? My mommy says people with dirty mouths need them washed out with soap.” Zoe was six and knew almost everyone in the family, but she had never met Rosa. Rosa immediately snapped at her, “You little bastard, how dare you talk back.” That was it. I was furious. This was my precious daughter, the child I had waited for and cherished. Who was she to call her that? “Rosa, watch your mouth. Or don’t blame me for what happens next.” Gavin glanced at me, then added with feigned innocence, “This child looks like she’s old enough for school, right? Don’t tell me you cheated on Rosa before you even got married?” His words were poison. Rosa’s eyes shot to me, filled with a look that wanted to claw my face off. The one thing a woman can’t stand is her husband cheating, especially when that man used to be her devoted follower. A man who had sworn to love her until death. “She’s six,” I said calmly. “Sean, you disgust me! I’m gone for seven years, and you go and have a child with someone else? Have you no shame?” Only seven years? We had only known each other for a few years, and she was gone for seven of them. And she was the one who abandoned me. The butler quickly tried to explain. “Miss Rosa, this is your aunt’s child.” Rosa exploded. “You shut up, you traitorous old fool! Where are my parents? Who let him get away with this? Cheating and acting so self-righteous!” “Everyone in the Crestwood family knows about this.” Back then, after Rosa ran away, her parents felt guilty and didn’t object to Victoria marrying me. Hearing this, Rosa’s rage boiled over completely. Her eyes scanned the room like daggers. “Who is the slut? Who dared to humiliate the Crestwood family like this? Does she have a death wish?” No matter how she looked, she couldn’t find a single suspect among the staff. I let out a sarcastic laugh. Gavin adopted a tone of false concern. “Sean, you should just confess. If you push Rosa too far, even I won’t be able to help you.” I rolled my eyes at him. “We’re both men. I suggest you drop the act.” Before I could react, Rosa’s hand cracked across my face. “Shut up.” “You cheated first, having a child behind my back, and you have the nerve to lecture Gavin.” I hadn’t expected her to strike. My cheek instantly swelled and throbbed. Seeing me get hit, Zoe charged at Rosa like a little bull. “You hit my daddy! I’ll hit you!” “Zoe!” 4 Rosa grabbed Zoe by the collar of her dress and lifted her off the ground. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Rosa, let the child go.” The maids rushed forward to intervene. “Miss, please, put her down.” “If you don’t, the President won’t let this go.” Everyone in the household knew that Zoe was the light of Victoria’s life, a treasure she protected at all costs. But Rosa just sneered. “Get lost if you don’t want to lose your jobs. I’m going to teach both of them a lesson today.” A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. “Rosa, what are you doing?” Her face was a mask of venom, her aura turning ice-cold. “According to the law, you committed adultery during our marriage and even had a child. I can demand you leave with nothing and compensate me for my losses.” The problem was, we were never married. My hands clenched, veins popping on the back. “Rosa, you and I are not married! There was no adultery! Now put the child down!” If she weren’t a woman, I would have charged at her. I, Sean, have never hit a woman. Zoe’s little legs dangled in the air, kicking wildly, but she wasn’t afraid. The surrounding staff, intimidated by Rosa’s threats, didn’t dare to step in, only offering weak pleas. But Rosa ignored them. She shot me a meaningful look. “After I’m done with this bastard, I’ll deal with you personally.” With that, she started walking toward the door, still holding Zoe. The staff exchanged helpless glances, but no one dared to block her path. Finally, the butler stood in her way. Her face darkened instantly. “What? You dare to stop me?” The butler wiped sweat from his brow but maintained a respectful tone. “Miss, please, let’s talk this over calmly. Don’t be rash. Please put the little princess down.” I saw my chance and lunged to grab Zoe, but Gavin blocked me. He smiled, a sinister glint in his eyes. “Sean, what do you think you’re doing? Don’t do anything foolish.” I swung a fist into his face. “If anything happens to my daughter, I will make you both regret ever being born.” Gavin theatrically stumbled back into a nearby vase, hitting his head and drawing blood. Rosa’s eyes turned red with fury, and she unleashed her rage on Zoe. “You dare touch Gavin? I’ll beat this bastard to death!” She lifted Zoe high, about to slam her onto the ground. For a moment, my heart stopped. I instinctively dove forward. “Zoe!” Seeing Rosa’s madness, Zoe, being a child after all, finally burst into tears. Rosa screamed at me, “Get away! I’ll deal with you later!” I wrapped my arms around my daughter, holding on for dear life, refusing to let go no matter how hard Rosa pulled. Finally losing her patience, Rosa grabbed a nearby flowerpot and brought it crashing down on my head. I felt a searing pain, and something warm and wet streamed down my face. The butler and maids rushed to pull her back, but she screamed at them to stop. “Miss, stop! That’s your uncle!” the butler cried, grabbing her arm to stop her from striking again. Just then, a calm, elegant voice drifted in from the doorway. “What, exactly, is going on here?” “You had all better have a very good explanation.”

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1 My brother and I were reborn on the very day we were to be handed over to the Demon Realm as consorts. Our wives, the Water Goddess and the Fire Goddess, came to our rescue, just as they had in our previous life. But this time, we made a different choice. We rejected their salvation and willingly offered ourselves to the demons. In our past life, after they saved us, the demons took the Water Goddess’s young apprentice as a substitute. He suffered a gruesome death, skinned alive and stripped of his bones. Blaming us for his fate, our wives spread rumors that we were the Twins of Destruction, turning the entire celestial realm against us until our very souls were obliterated. When we opened our eyes again, back in that moment of capture, my brother and I exchanged a single look. We understood. “We willingly offer ourselves as consorts to the Demon Empress and the Beast Queen,” we announced to the stunned crowd. “Take us.” Our wives, relieved to have saved their precious apprentice, returned to the Heavens without a scratch on him. Later, they would come to regret their choice with a madness that consumed them. … Just like before, my brother and I were bound by immortal-binding ropes, unable to move. The demon general laughed raucously, shouting at the assembled immortals, “You lot better know what’s good for you and scurry back to your Nine Heavens! I only came for these two today. Anyone who wants to die, step right up!” I looked at the crowd. They were bloodied, some with damaged souls, none daring to make a move. The Nine Heavens hadn’t seen a new God of War in ages, leading to this pathetic stalemate. Just then, my wife, Azure, the Water Goddess, and my sister-in-law, Ignis, the Fire Goddess, arrived. Seeing them, my fists clenched involuntarily. My brother, Noctis, shot them a glare filled with pure venom. The other immortals, however, looked at them like saviors. An elder stepped forward. “You demons insist on taking these brothers. Do you want to plunge the Six Realms into chaos? The Nine Heavens will never agree to this!” “Exactly! The Water and Fire Goddesses are here. You’d better release them!” “They are husbands to powerful goddesses! If you want to take them, you’ll have to ask if their wives agree!” Their voices were loud, full of bravado now that reinforcements had arrived. Azure and Ignis exchanged a confident smile, showing no fear of the demons. “You heard them,” Azure said coolly. “Release my husband!” Before the general could reply, a subordinate rushed over, dragging a young man. “General! This one was sneaking around our camp. Probably a spy!” He yanked the man’s hair, forcing his head up. River, Azure’s apprentice, looked at them with tear-filled eyes. “Master… Mistress Ignis… save me.” The calm demeanor of the two goddesses vanished instantly, replaced by visible panic. “River! What are you doing here?!” The demon general wasn’t stupid. He laughed and grabbed River by the throat, pulling him against his chest. “Bastard! Let him go!” “Don’t touch River!” They rushed forward like madwomen, but the general only had to tighten his grip slightly for them to freeze in their tracks. “Hahaha… you two are interesting. Is this little one your actual husband? Then who are these two?” He pointed at us. Azure gritted her teeth and shot me a cold look. “Wait.” Ignis, at least, offered some comfort to Noctis. “Don’t worry, Noctis. With me here, they won’t dare touch you. River’s magic is weak; I have to save him first.” My brother and I sneered but said nothing. Compared to River, we had never won. River was the son of Azure’s closest friend, who had perished failing a celestial trial, entrusting him to her before dying. They were more like family than master and apprentice. But somewhere along the line, that bond had twisted. Whenever she shared my bed, she would talk about him. “River is growing fast. You should make him some new clothes.” “He’s been complaining that the food is too greasy lately. Make him something lighter, but make sure he eats enough. Boys shouldn’t be too thin.” She seemed to forget that I was even thinner than River. She personally taught him swordsmanship and even created a unique cultivation technique just for him. Later, when River was injured and saved by Ignis, he began receiving double the affection. The demon general seemed highly amused by our domestic drama. He conjured three arm-long ice needles, levitating them before my brother’s chest, mine, and River’s. “Which of these three do you want to save?” he asked softly. “Save River!” they shouted in unison. Instantly, the ice needles plunged deep into our chests. Blood sprayed from our mouths, and pain clouded our minds. The celestial elder immediately stepped forward. “Goddesses! You cannot do this! They are the incarnations of the Chaos Twins. If they die, chaos will be unleashed, and the Six Realms will cease to exist! They are your husbands! How can you abandon them for him? You must think of the greater good!” Azure hesitated. But the demon general tightened his grip, making River cough up blood. The sight nearly broke them. “Let him go! I’ll do anything you want if you just let him go!” “Oh really? I heard your husband, Caelum, has a dragon tattooed on his waist. Go carve it off.” 2 Azure looked troubled at his demand. River sobbed, “Caelum, why did you lie to me and say Master was gravely injured so I’d rush over here? If not for you, Master wouldn’t be in this difficult position!” Azure looked at me with disbelief. “It was you? You tricked River into coming here? You hate him so much you’d send him to his death?” Even though they had hurt me a thousand times before, hearing their baseless accusations still chilled my heart. “We’ve been fighting this war for three days and three nights! We barely had time to save ourselves, let alone trick him into coming here!” My explanation met Azure’s eyes, and I could see she didn’t believe me. I lowered my head with a bitter smile. “Forget it. Why would you ever believe me?” Ignis snorted coldly, looking at Noctis. “Everyone knows you brothers are experts at putting on an act. Noctis, were you involved in this? If you dare harm River, I’ll divorce you!” “As you wish,” Noctis replied coldly, making Ignis uncomfortable. “You…” Before she could finish, the demon general interrupted. “I want that dragon now! Or else…” River’s face was pale as a ghost. “Mas… Master…” At his weak cry, Azure instantly appeared by my side, tearing open my robes. “Bear with it. He’s the only child my best friend left behind. I can’t watch him die. Besides, this is your fault to begin with.” Without waiting for my reply, she plunged the knife in. “Azure! Are you crazy?! He’s your husband!” Noctis roared, struggling against his bonds. “Stop! Stop it!” But nothing could stop her. I trembled with pain, gritting my teeth as I asked her, “Is it really because of your friendship with his mother, or is it something else?” Azure wouldn’t meet my eyes, only quickening her movements. The demon general watched with gleeful delight. “I heard Noctis has a Vitality Orb within him that can greatly increase one’s cultivation. Fire Goddess…” Before Ignis could speak, Noctis immediately said, “I’ll give it to you! I’ll give you anything! Just make Azure stop!” “That won’t do. You celestials always say everyone has their own fate. Today is his.” Ignis stood before Noctis and, without hesitation, began to extract his Vitality Orb. “I didn’t like what you said earlier. Consider this a lesson.” Moments later, the general had what he wanted, laughing maniacally. “You five are truly fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like it. If you had to choose who lives and who dies?” Everyone’s face darkened at his words. The elder couldn’t stay silent any longer. “You absolutely cannot! If the Chaos Twins die, chaos will begin! Think of the Six Realms!” We were born from the Sacred Tree of Mount Feng, the Twins of Chaos. Together, we could wipe out all life in the Six Realms and return everything to primordial chaos. But the realms also depended on the Sacred Tree; without it, all life would suffocate. That was why they feared us, yet couldn’t live without us. As Azure wavered, I looked at the demon general and rasped, “They’ve already made their choice. Can’t you see?” “Even if you asked them a thousand times, the result would be the same.” “Didn’t your Demon Empress and Beast Queen want us brothers as their consorts? We’ll go with you.” Noctis echoed me, “Yes, we are willing.” Azure panicked. “Caelum, how can you be so base? Willing to be a consort to vile creatures!” “Are you both insane?!” Their feigned concern didn’t last long, cut short by River’s sobbing. “Master… Mistress Ignis… it’s my fault for getting caught, making it impossible for you to escape. Let me bear the consequences.” He made a show of trying to kill himself. 3 But a second later, his hand “slipped,” and the dagger fell. As he went to pick it up, Azure immediately shouted, “We’ll give you Caelum and Noctis! Just let River go!” “I agree! Release River!” For River’s sake, they truly disregarded the bigger picture. The elders cried out in desperate protest. “You really can’t do this! Letting the demons have the Chaos Twins is like handing our lifelines over to someone else!” “Yes! And the Twins were raised by the Heavenly Emperor himself, practically his sons! How can you abandon them for an outsider?” Their accusations and pleas fell on deaf ears. Azure looked at the demon leader. “Give us River, and you take them. Deal?” “Deal. Or else we all die together.” “Fine by me. But it’s not that I’m afraid of you; I’m just in a hurry to report back.” Before the elder could interrupt again, Azure said, “Don’t worry. I have a way to ensure they can’t unleash chaos.” Noctis and I exchanged puzzled glances. Even we didn’t know of such a way. Ignis addressed the general, “You don’t want to bring back two ticking time bombs, do you? Keep them restrained. We’ll handle it.” The general readily agreed. Azure came to me, extending her right hand. Six wooden stakes, crafted from the Sacred Tree itself, floated above her palm. “Caelum, don’t blame me. You chose to offer yourself to the demons.” “If I hadn’t, would you have saved me?” She didn’t answer my question. Ignis, holding similar stakes, looked hesitantly at Noctis. “You two framed River. You deserve this. Be good little consorts in the Demon Realm. Maybe when I’m in a better mood, I’ll come save you.” With that, she drove a stake deep into Noctis’s left ankle, forcing him to his knees. “Brother!” The next second, I coughed up a mouthful of blood and collapsed. Azure hadn’t gone easy on me either; her first stake went straight into my heart. They hung us up and embedded the stakes into our limbs, foreheads, and hearts until we were barely breathing. The elder, though pitying us, still asked, “Are you sure this will stop them from initiating chaos?” “These are made from the Sacred Tree. They’ve severed their connection to it, so naturally, they won’t be able to.” The demon general clicked his tongue. “You two are ruthless to your own husbands. You’d fit right in with us demons.” “This is how the Twins of Destruction should be treated.” Blood tears streamed from my eyes. Everything I had with Azure turned to ash in that moment. But they had only read about this method in ancient texts and still felt uneasy. Azure came to me and whispered, “This is just a stalling tactic. I will come to the Demon Realm to save you.” Ignis surprisingly wiped the blood from Noctis’s face. “You’ll have to suffer for a bit. Wait for me to come save you. And whatever you do, don’t use the power of chaos.” They still thought we would blindly love them, using that love to deceive us even now. Sadly, I was in too much pain to retort. Once it was over, River was released. He immediately hugged Azure, sobbing breathlessly. “Master… I was so scared just now. I thought I’d never see you again.” Ignis tenderly touched the red marks on his neck. “Does it hurt, River?” “It’s okay. I’ll make you an even better ointment. I promise it won’t leave a scar.” While our wives fussed over another man, we were thrown into a prison cart like garbage by the demons. As we moved away, River called out to us, “Caelum! Noctis! It’s okay that you tricked me into coming here. I’ve forgiven you! I’ll take good care of Master and Mistress Ignis in your place!” He seemed to think this was the end for us. … As we entered demon territory, many demonesses were attracted by the pure celestial energy radiating from us. They drooled with desire. “These are the Chaos Twins! General, you’re amazing! Only you could fulfill the Empresses’ request so quickly. But… before you present them, can we sisters have a taste first?” The general thought for a moment, then laughed. “Why not? They’re going to be consorts anyway. Enjoy yourselves!” Instantly, a wave of sycophantic praise washed over him. Noctis had already passed out. I struggled to stay conscious, glaring at them weakly. “How… dare you… I am…” My voice was too weak; they ignored me. Some demonesses began to grope us, tearing at our clothes. Just as I was about to be stripped bare, the Demon Empress, Lyra, appeared behind them. Seeing me, her pupils constricted. “Caelum!” The next second, the Beast Queen, Sable, blasted everyone away with a wave of energy. “Noctis… Noctis!” Held in Lyra’s arms, I finally felt a flicker of warmth. “You… finally came.”

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The comment appeared in my vision, shimmering over Ethan’s head, just as he was pushing the pink cocktail across the table. “The nerd has no idea that drink will give the female lead her super-brain, making her ace the SATs.” “And it’s all going to plan on the other side. Once the jock drinks his special cocktail, the male lead will get his insane athletic ability and get scouted by a top D1 university.” “I just love a power couple story!” 1 …A power couple? You call stealing someone else’s life’s work “power”? I silently switched my glass with the one intended for the school’s star athlete. The IQ of a rock. The stamina of a chain-smoker. It’s all yours. When those bizarre, floating captions first flickered into existence, Ethan was still coaxing me to drink the pink concoction in front of me. “Audrey, you have to try this one.” In the dim light of the private room, Ethan’s smile was dangerously deceptive. He was the boy next door, the one I’d been quietly in love with for a decade. Any other day, his words would have sent a thrill through me. I would have downed the drink in a heartbeat, my low tolerance be damned, just for the warmth of his attention. But those comments had planted a seed of suspicion. I feigned hesitation. “We have finals in three months, Ethan. I have a mountain of practice tests to get through tonight. Alcohol will just cloud my head. How about after the SATs? My treat.” “I made it just for you,” he insisted, his voice a little too smooth. “I’m calling it ‘The Audrey.’ It’s your namesake. Just one sip.” Something was wrong. I knew Ethan. I mean, I really knew him. And he didn’t like me. For years, I was the one trailing in his wake while he couldn’t be bothered to spare me a word. His entire world revolved around Olivia Reed, the school’s reigning queen bee, and figuring out new ways to make her smile. For him to be not just mixing me a drink, but practically begging me to drink it, was more than strange. It was a five-alarm fire. Another caption popped up above his perfectly styled hair. “Poor Ethan, having to suck up to this four-eyed loser for Olivia’s sake.” “Her glasses just make Olivia look that much more like a goddess in comparison.” “Just drink it already, nerd! Stop wasting time!” So that was it. Ethan and Olivia were the main characters of this… story. He, the handsome golden boy from a wealthy family; she, the effortlessly beautiful It Girl. A match made in high school heaven. Ethan has been in love with Olivia forever, and their story is a dramatic dance of will-they-won’t-they, all while somehow managing to coast their way into top universities without ever seeming to crack a book. And apparently, the “system” decided their plot needed a little boost. So, they were given a shortcut: a couple of tainted drinks to steal my academic diligence and the raw athletic talent of our school’s star jock, Jax Vance. I stared at the pink liquid, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. So, the lives of the main characters mattered because they had an audience, but the rest of us were just props? Was that it? My spot at the top of the class, the number one rank I’d held since freshman year—that was the result of countless sleepless nights and mountains of textbooks. And he thought he could just snatch it all away with one cheap cocktail. Looking at his fake, charming smile now, I just felt sick. I picked up the glass. Ethan’s eyes locked onto my hand, his posture suddenly tense. I brought the rim to my lips, then stopped. “What’s wrong?” he asked, a little too quickly. “My heart’s acting up a bit. I think I left my pills in the other room. Could you grab them for me?” I was born with a minor heart condition that required daily medication. It was the perfect excuse. He hesitated. I swirled the pink liquid in the glass. “By the time you get back, this glass will be empty. Promise.” That was all it took. Ethan practically sprinted out of the room. The second he was gone, my eyes scanned the crowded party for Olivia. I found her on the balcony, handing a drink to Jax. Of course. They were in it together. Insidious. Ethan works on me for Olivia’s benefit, while Olivia uses her neighborly connection with Jax to trick him into giving up his physical prowess for Ethan. I flagged down a passing waiter, pressed a hundred-dollar bill into his hand, and told him to accidentally spill a tray of drinks on Olivia. He played his part perfectly, apologizing profusely. Olivia, ever the gracious queen, had to maintain her image. She just smiled. “It’s totally fine. I’ll just go to the restroom and clean up.” Before leaving, she gave Jax a pointed look. “That drink is amazing, you really have to try it.” Jax, lounging against the railing with his usual casual indifference, just lifted the glass in a lazy salute, not paying much attention. The moment Olivia was out of sight, he brought the drink to his lips. I lunged forward and snatched it from his hand. He whipped his head around, his eyes wide with surprise. “You…” Jax and I were in the same class, but we existed in completely different orbits. We were parallel lines, never meant to intersect. But there was no time for social anxiety now. I shoved my own pink cocktail into his hand. “Trade you.” Jax just stared. “?” Ignoring his confusion, I held up the glass I’d taken from him and clinked it against his. “Here’s to new friends.” My first instinct had been to just dump the drink. But then I thought, why should I? If Ethan and Olivia wanted to steal our futures, they deserved to pay the price. I’d switched the drinks. Let Olivia walk into the SATs with Jax’s rock-bottom, last-in-the-class academic record. Let Ethan step onto the field for his athletic trials with my frail, gets-winded-walking-up-stairs physique. Oh, and my congenital heart condition. That was a fun little bonus. I’ve always been a generous person. He could have it all. 2. Jax was still staring at me, looking completely bewildered. A thought struck me, and I quickly clarified, “Don’t worry, I didn’t drink from your glass.” “S’fine,” he said, a crooked, roguish smile spreading across his face. He swirled the pink drink I’d given him and downed it in one go. “Wouldn’t have cared if you did.” We were practically strangers, so once he’d finished the drink, I went back to my seat. The moment I sat down, the room started to spin. I’m a total lightweight, and whatever was in that cocktail, it was hitting me hard. Ethan returned just then. He saw the empty glass in my hand and my dizzy state, and a wave of relief washed over his face. “Good. You drank it.” He tossed my pill bottle onto the table. “You have a problem, you take your meds. Now finish up and go home. These kinds of parties aren’t for nerds like you anyway.” Across the room, Olivia waved at him. Ethan ran a hand through his hair, about to head over, but I grabbed his sleeve. “You expect me to get home by myself in this state?” He frowned, his patience wearing thin. “The night’s just getting started. We’re going to karaoke after this. You want me to leave and play babysitter?” I can’t believe I liked this person for so many years. I must have been brainwashed by whatever twisted plotline was controlling this world. I let go of his sleeve. “Get lost.” “What did you say?” He looked at me as if he’d misheard. The girl who followed him around like a puppy couldn’t possibly have said that. I met his gaze and repeated, slowly and clearly, “Piss off, you moron. As of today, Audrey Shen is done with you.” “You…” Ethan’s brow furrowed, but then he let out a short, condescending laugh. “Right, right. You’re drunk. Wait until you sober up tomorrow and remember what you said. You’ll come running back, trying to get on my good side again.” He hesitated for a moment, as if expecting me to break, but Olivia called his name again and he left. Shaking my head to clear it, I stumbled outside to wait for my ride. Two drunk guys were staggering down the sidewalk, and they slowed their pace as they passed me, their eyes lingering. I pretended to be on the phone with my parents, avoiding their gaze. Just as a knot of fear tightened in my stomach, the two of them saw something—or someone—over my shoulder, and they quickly scurried away. I turned around and saw Jax leaning against a lamppost. “You heading home, too?” I asked. He just grunted an affirmative, saying he was waiting for his ride. But his phone screen was still lit, and I could clearly see he hadn’t even opened the rideshare app yet. “Can I ask you something? It might be a little weird.” Jax straightened up, a faint blush creeping up the tips of his ears. “Wh-what?” “Your grades… are you really last in our class because that’s all you can manage, or are you secretly a genius holding back?” The question made him choke on air, coughing a few times. The blush on his ears deepened. “I just… I haven’t really been trying, okay? I’m not stupid. I’m… I’m actually pretty smart. If I really applied myself…” “Don’t!” I cut him off immediately. “Last place is great! I love it!” Right now, Olivia was linked to him, set to inherit his academic abilities for the SATs. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she realized her brain was completely empty in the middle of the exam hall. Jax couldn’t afford to mess this up. I was so lost in my own scheming that I didn’t notice the way his eyes widened, a strange, rosy hue spreading across his face. 3. The next day, the results of the monthly practice exam were posted. As expected, I was first in the school. Our homeroom teacher was beaming. “Audrey, keep this up. With your focus, there isn’t a university in this country that wouldn’t want you.” My classmates were buzzing with admiration. “Audrey’s next goal has to be a perfect score on the verbal section.” “It’s insane. I heard Harvard and Yale are already sending her feelers.” … Then, the teacher’s gaze fell on Olivia. “Finals are just around the corner. Some students would be better served focusing on their books instead of their makeup. Last month you were ranked in the top 100, this month you’ve dropped to 300.” Olivia, busy reapplying her lip gloss in a compact mirror, didn’t even flinch. As soon as class was over, she whispered to her friends, “These little tests don’t matter. The only one that counts is the SATs.” One of her friends looked confused. “But Olivia, nobody can guarantee they’ll perform well on the day.” “Others can’t. But I can.” Just then, the scrolling captions reappeared in my vision. “That’s right, our girl is going to get into Princeton. State scholar, no less.” “Beautiful and brilliant. That’s a true female lead!” “The nerdy side character isn’t getting a bad deal. She gets Olivia’s grades in return, enough to get into a state school. For a background character, that’s more than enough.” … It dawned on me then. The floating comments, the “viewers,” they had no idea I’d switched the drinks. They were still operating on the original script. Because I was a minor character, my actions were simply skipped over. Did that mean… I could use these comments to see what was supposed to happen? Seeing me staring blankly at the results sheet, Olivia shot me a smug look. “It doesn’t matter how well you do now. Just you wait.” I had to physically pinch my thigh to keep from bursting out laughing. Oh, I’m waiting. I can’t wait for you to experience the full power of Jax’s academic prowess on test day. I instinctively glanced back. In the last row, Jax was asleep again, head down on his desk. He’d been out for three straight periods. I used to look down on people like him, just drifting through life. But now, he was a welcome sight. Someone had left a window open, and the breeze seemed to be bothering him. I walked over and quietly slid it shut. Can’t have anything disturbing his precious sleep. As I closed it, I looked down and found myself staring directly into Jax’s sleepy, just-opened eyes. “Keep sleeping,” I whispered, giving his head a gentle, encouraging pat. “I closed the window for you.” In the next second, Jax’s face turned bright red, and he quickly buried his head in his arms. Such a sound sleeper… I was walking back to my desk, marveling at his dedication to rest, when I ran straight into Ethan, who had just returned from skipping class to play basketball. He’d seen me close the window for Jax, and when I tried to walk past him, he blocked my path. “Audrey, you don’t have to go this far to get my attention. Are you really that desperate you’ll throw yourself at any guy?” Before I could even respond, someone rushed forward and punched Ethan square in the jaw, sending him stumbling to the floor. Jax stood over him, gripping his collar. “Keep your damn mouth clean. If you’ve been eating shit, swallow it. Don’t spew it everywhere.” “You—!” Jax was a good two inches taller than Ethan, with the broad shoulders and long legs of a natural athlete. His talent was off the charts; his running times were good enough for national competitions. It was no wonder Ethan wanted to steal his abilities. Ethan knew better than to fight him head-on. He just sneered, his voice dripping with certainty. “We’ll see what you’ve got at the athletic trials tomorrow. You’re always bragging about how you’ve got your pick of D1 schools. Let’s see what kind of times you can actually run.”

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The girl I’d sponsored from poverty was about to become a queen. At the Aetherium Awards ceremony, I sat in the darkest corner of the auditorium, just wanting a glimpse of her moment of glory. And then, the spotlight found me. I was about to stand up and say that helping her achieve her dreams was its own reward, that I expected nothing in return. But she faced the cameras, tears streaking her perfect makeup, her face a mask of humiliation. “I want to ‘thank’ that man,” she choked out, “for teaching me that the only way for a girl to be safe is to become powerful.” “He used his charity as a leash, demanding I repay him in ways I could never stomach.” “To all the girls out there… we have to stand together. We have to protect each other.” The room exploded. In an instant, I was drowning in a sea of outrage and disgust. … The lights of the Aetherium Awards were a supernova of flashing cameras and blinding strobes. I sat in the last row, hidden in the shadows, a faded photograph clutched in my hand. It was taken ten years ago, deep in a forgotten pocket of Appalachia. A scrawny girl named Daisy, dressed in threadbare clothes, was holding half a hunk of dry cornbread, but her eyes burned like stars. Back then, she could barely string a sentence together. Now, she stood on the most prestigious stage in the industry, about to accept the award for Best Actress. When the host announced the name “Seraphina Reyes,” I straightened instinctively. She was a vision in a couture gown, her makeup flawless, a swan gliding under the lights. I thought she might mention me—the anonymous benefactor who had supported her for a decade, paid for her sister’s leukemia treatments, helped her get into film school, and even founded an entire production company just for her, to avoid any appearance of impropriety. The next second, her gaze locked onto mine. A spotlight shot across the auditorium, pinning me in its glare, so bright I had to squint. “There’s someone here tonight I have to give a special ‘thank you’ to,” she said into the microphone, her voice trembling with practiced emotion as tears welled in her eyes. “Ten years ago, he used the pretense of sponsorship to harass and control me. Tonight, standing here, I want to tell every girl watching: the only way to protect yourself is to become famous!” The room erupted. The sound of camera shutters was like machine-gun fire. I was frozen in my seat, the photograph nearly slipping from my numb fingers. “He thought because he gave me money, he owned me!” she cried, pointing a perfectly manicured finger in my direction, her voice thick with rage. “Winning this award tonight is my proof that I did this on my own! My success has nothing to do with his handouts!” The live stream chat went into a frenzy: “OMG! What kind of scumbag does that?” “Poor Seraphina! I’m so glad she made it through that!” “Someone find out who this predator is! He needs to be canceled NOW!” On stage, Seraphina’s face was flush with triumph, her eyes burning with an undisguised hatred aimed directly at me. I opened my mouth, desperate to ask her why, to explain the truth of the last ten years, but I was already being swarmed by reporters, their microphones like weapons. I’d been in this business long enough to know that any explanation would be twisted and useless. I closed my mouth. I took one last, long look at Seraphina, then turned to leave. As I stood, I felt a thousand pairs of eyes on me—a mixture of contempt and morbid curiosity—as I walked towards the exit. I’d just reached the backstage area when a foot shot out from the side, tripping me. I wasn’t expecting it and went down hard, a sharp, searing pain exploding in my knee. Wincing, I looked up. It was someone I knew. Chase, the new rising star my company was heavily promoting, and Seraphina’s latest on-screen love interest. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to have some self-respect,” Chase said, looking down at me with disdain. “Seraphina is a star now. You can’t just harass her whenever you feel like it.” Seraphina had finished her speech and walked over, looming above me with a mocking smirk. “Leo Gordon, stop overreaching. I looked you up. You’re just some nobody with a tiny production company. You really think you’re in any position to be my benefactor?” Her face was serene, but her words were daggers. A cruel smile played on her lips. She paused, then raised her voice intentionally. “Oh, and by the way, all those letters you sent me over the past decade? I burned every single one. Just looking at them made me sick.” I stared into her cold, merciless eyes, my heart feeling like it was being crushed in a fist. Those letters… they held my words of encouragement, the study materials I’d compiled for her, the good news after each of her sister’s chemo treatments. To her, all of it was just… disgusting. “Security! Get him out of here!” Seraphina shouted. Two guards rushed over, grabbed my arms, and started to haul me away. I struggled, looking back over my shoulder. I saw Chase give the cameras a subtle “V for victory” sign. I saw the flicker of a triumphant smile on Seraphina’s lips. And I saw the big screen behind her, playing her highlight reel. Under the section listing her management company, the name of the CEO was the same as mine. As I was thrown out of the venue, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my assistant: “Mr. Gordon, the company website has been hacked! It’s flooded with hate comments about you!” I read the message, a bitter, complicated feeling swirling in my gut. The company they’d attacked was the smallest one I owned. But “Starlight Pictures,” the company Seraphina was signed to, was a platform I had built from the ground up, entirely for her. She thought winning that award meant she had everything. She had no idea that everything she had was a gift from me. The office was dead silent when I arrived. My employees saw me and immediately looked down, avoiding my eyes. My assistant ran over, clutching a laptop, his face pale. “Mr. Gordon, it’s already blowing up. #LeoGordonIsAPredator is the number one trending topic. People have doxxed the company address. The entire street downstairs is blocked by reporters.” I sank onto the office sofa and opened my laptop. The trending topic had a fiery “EXPLODING” tag next to it. Clicking on it revealed a torrent of abuse. Someone had found my photo and turned it into a series of humiliating memes. Right below it was the hashtag for Seraphina and Chase’s new movie: #SeraChaseForever, filled with comments of love and support. “Sir, should we release a statement?” my assistant asked timidly. I shook my head and clicked on an encrypted folder. Inside was a video from ten years ago. I had just turned eighteen. Disgusted with my father’s ruthless business practices, I’d escaped to the countryside for a while. That’s where I met her. She wasn’t Seraphina Reyes then. She was just Daisy, a name as plain as the dirt roads she walked on. In the video, ten-year-old Daisy was being shoved into the mud by her older brother while her mother beat her with a broomstick, screaming, “Useless girl! Better off dead!” I had rushed in, pushed them away, and given them a wad of cash to let Daisy stay in school. I remembered her clinging to my leg, whispering, “Mister, I wanna learn. I wanna save my sister.” Chronically malnourished and forced to do heavy chores, the ten-year-old was nothing but skin and bones, except for her eyes. They were huge, dark, and searing. Staring into those eyes, my heart had broken. For the next ten years, I anonymously sent her money for living expenses, paid for her sister’s leukemia treatments, hired tutors for her, and when she got into film school, I founded Starlight Pictures and poured all my resources into making her a star, all while keeping my distance to protect her reputation. I thought I was helping her achieve her dream. I never realized I was nurturing a viper. “Mr. Gordon, you have a direct message from Chase,” my assistant’s voice broke through my thoughts. I opened the message. It was a photo. Seraphina was feeding my letters into a fire, a contemptuous smile on her face, illuminated by the flames. The caption read: “Give it up, Gordon. Sera says your ‘sponsorship’ was just a pathetic handout. She will never be grateful to you.” I closed my phone, my fingertips ice-cold. They had planned this all along, waiting for this night to deliver the killing blow. Ten years of support, and in her eyes, it was nothing more than charity, worthy only of scorn. “Notify all senior management. Emergency meeting tomorrow at 9 a.m. Seraphina, Chase, and their agents are to be present.” I stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the swarm of reporters below. “And have the tech department restore the website. Don’t delete a single comment.” My assistant stared for a second, then nodded. “Yes, Mr. Gordon.” I gazed out at the city lights, the anger inside me having cooled into a calm, hard resolve. Seraphina, you want to burn away your past as Daisy? You want to destroy everything I gave you? Fine. I’ll be the one to drag you back to where you started and show you that without my “handouts,” you are nothing. The next morning, I was mobbed by reporters the moment I stepped out of my car. “Mr. Gordon, is it true you harassed Seraphina Reyes for ten years?” “Why did you use your money to control her?” “Did you really burn her letters, as she claimed?” The flashbulbs were blinding. Security guards formed a human shield, wrestling me through the crowd and into the elevator. When I entered the boardroom, it was already full. Seraphina was seated near the head of the table, dressed in an expensive power suit, surrounded by a circle of fawning department heads. “Don’t you worry, Seraphina, we’re all on your side,” the head of marketing said with a greasy smile. “That Leo Gordon is a lunatic. We’re already drawing up his termination papers.” “Exactly,” the operations manager chimed in. “When he gets here, we’ll help you put him in his place.” Seraphina smiled smugly. When she saw me walk in, her expression instantly turned to ice. “Leo Gordon. You still have the nerve to show your face?” I ignored her and walked directly to the head of the conference table. The managers shot to their feet, pointing at me. “You have no shame! Get the hell out!” “Get out?” I laughed. “This is my company. Why would I leave?” “Your company?” Seraphina scoffed. She pulled a black credit card from her purse and tossed it onto the table in front of me. “Here’s a million dollars. That’s more than your little company will make in years. Take the money and disappear. I never want to see you again.” The black card spun across the polished wood and stopped near my feet. A million dollars. A lot of money, to be sure. I looked at the card and remembered three years ago, when her sister was critically ill and needed a bone marrow transplant. I was the one who spent the night on the phone with specialists overseas and paid the three-million-dollar surgery bill. I remembered her crying on the phone then, saying, “Thank you, Leo. I promise I’ll repay you one day.” “A million dollars?” I bent down, picked up the card, and placed it on the table. “Seraphina, your sister’s surgery alone cost me three million. Do you really think this is enough?” Her face went deathly pale, but she quickly recovered her composure. “Don’t you dare lie! I raised the money for my sister’s surgery myself!” “Is that so?” I began, but Chase suddenly jumped up and threw a stack of cash in my face. The bills fluttered to the floor around me. “Don’t push your luck, Gordon!” he snarled, jabbing a finger at me. “Seraphina is doing you a favor by offering you money! You keep harassing her, and I’ll make sure you never work in this town again!” “Get him out of here!” Seraphina shrieked. “Where are my bodyguards?” The two guards she’d brought with her moved towards me, ready to grab me. I looked at them coldly. “Are you sure you want to do that?” Just then, my phone, which I’d placed on the table, rang. I answered it, my voice calm. “Send the entire legal department and the head of HR to the main conference room. Now. And have the building’s security team come up and escort any unauthorized personnel off the premises.” I hung up. The room was silent. Everyone stared at me, their faces a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

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It was Black Friday, the biggest livestream sales event of the year, and my husband’s bubble-headed secretary had eagerly volunteered for the most critical job. “Oh, Mr. Forrester, please trust me! I promise I can handle it this time!” My husband, completely charmed, insisted on putting her in the control room to manage the central console. Our team of seasoned hosts stood ready, their energy electric, each one poised to passionately pitch their products. The clock struck 11:11 PM. On cue, every host across every channel shouted in unison, “The deals are live!” A split second later, a product originally priced at $999 was listed at $9.99—and sold out a million times over. And just like that, I knew. My husband’s company was finished. 1 The last time this happened, I fought tooth and nail to keep Tina out of the control room. I ignored my husband Benjamin’s repeated warnings and threats, physically blocking her from the console. Our sales that night shattered records, topping a hundred million. But instead of celebrating, Benjamin furiously handed me divorce papers. “It was a perfect chance for a rookie to get some experience! Why did you have to stick your nose in it?” I tried to explain that I’d personally seen Tina change the price tag to $9.99, but he just shoved me to the floor. The company’s veteran hosts stood up for me, presenting a mountain of evidence of Tina’s past mistakes—wrong products, incorrect prices, botched links. The board of directors saw the proof and ordered the legal department to recoup the three million dollars in potential losses she had almost caused. Unable to pay it back, Tina leaped from the roof of the company building. To avenge her, Benjamin locked me in the warehouse’s walk-in freezer and left me to die. “Alice!” he’d screamed, his voice echoing in the frigid darkness. “It was only three million dollars! You used to burn through that much on fan giveaways without batting an eye, so why did you have to target her?” “Since you care so much about this merchandise, you can be buried with it! Let’s see who wants to buy products that have been sitting next to a corpse!” I froze to death in that dark, steel box, my body turning a bruised, ugly purple. My last breath was a vow: if I had another chance, I would never, ever stop Tina from changing that price. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was the day of the Black Friday livestream. “Alice,” one of my senior managers whispered, her face tight with worry. “Mr. Forrester is insisting that Tina be on the console. We’re talking about billions in potential traffic today. Maybe you should be the one to make the call… and keep her out.” I glanced through the glass door of the control room. Tina was outside, peering in with wide, curious eyes. A tremor of ice-cold memory shot through me. Our eyes met. She beamed and pushed the door open. “Alice, I knew you wouldn’t defy Mr. Forrester! He said if I do a great job managing the console tonight, it’ll be amazing for my resume. A promotion and a raise could be right around the corner!” Before I could say a word, she held up her phone, which was on a video call. “Mr. Forrester! See? I told you Alice wasn’t as heartless as you said! I might be a little clumsy, but I’ll try my absolute best!” My colleague beside me winced. “Alice…” But Tina was already turning the phone around, shoving Benjamin’s furious face into my view. “Alice, drop the act,” he snarled through the speaker. “You’re not getting credit for this one. The rookies deserve a shot on Black Friday, and that’s final.” I stayed silent. Tina, however, leaned in close to the screen, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “Mr. Forrester, you’re so right! You have to give us newbies a chance to shine! I know Alice has a habit of holding new talent down, but with you in charge, I’m sure she won’t dare.” Even some of the new hosts waiting in the wings nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Alice. Mr. Forrester said to give the new people a chance. Black Friday is the best time to rack up sales and build our careers. You can’t just give all the opportunities to your veteran crew!” Tina shot a playful little tongue-stick-out at the screen, and at that exact moment, a notification buzzed on everyone’s phone. It was a company-wide memo. Black Friday Livestream Host Changes. Of the twenty-seven concurrent streams, only the five run by my veteran team remained untouched. All the others had been replaced. The new hosts erupted in cheers. As they rushed to their respective studios, they shot Tina big, heart-shaped hand gestures. Tina smugly squeezed past my colleague, shrugging her shoulders as she settled into the chair in front of the master control console. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. But I forced myself to swallow the rage, saying nothing. I couldn’t wait to see if their smiles would still be so bright when a hundred-million-dollar profit turned into a billion-dollar loss. 2 When she noticed my silence, Tina pouted. “You know, Alice, you used to be so against me being in the control room. Every time I came near, you’d start shrieking like a banshee. It’s almost… weird without the noise today.” She propped her face in her hands, her elbow accidentally pressing the all-channel broadcast button. In the monitors, I could see hosts struggling to suppress their smirks on camera. But Tina, oblivious, just kept talking, her voice now piped into every host’s earpiece and broadcast live to millions. “I heard you got your start as a streamer, Alice! Mr. Forrester told me you used to do anything to go viral… like eating that cow-dung hotpot, and washing it down with surströmming soup!” She giggled. “Your mouth must have smelled like a sewer! I bet when you came home at night, Mr. Forrester slept on the other side of a king-sized bed, like, a mile away! Hahahaha!” “No wonder they say CEOs need huge beds! It was probably to get away from the stench of crap on you! But I guess you don’t have to worry about that anymore, right? I mean, Mr. Forrester hasn’t been home in, what, six months?” She feigned a look of innocent realization, but on the monitors, a few of the rookie hosts were now openly howling with laughter in front of their live audiences. Benjamin hadn’t been home in six months. Tina had been hired six months ago. I had seen them flirting around the office, but I’d always bitten my tongue for the sake of the company’s reputation. I never imagined that the sacrifices I’d made—playing the clown to build this company from the ground up—had become nothing more than a punchline he shared with his new pet. The laughter from the earpiece grew louder. Tina finally noticed and jerked her arm off the console. “Oh, my gosh! Was that broadcasting to all channels?” she gasped with fake horror. “I’m so, so sorry! It’s just my first time handling a huge event like Black Friday!” My face was a mask of ice. I refused to give her the satisfaction of a response. A timer on the desk beeped, signaling the official start of the broadcast. Without a word of warning to the hosts, Tina slammed the master “Go Live” switch. My veteran hosts, though startled, scrambled to adjust and were professional within seconds. The rest of the newbies, however, continued to goof off, laughing and making silly faces at the camera before realizing they were live. I pulled out my phone. Staring at Benjamin’s staff reassignment memo, my fingers moved swiftly. I went into the HR portal and marked myself, and every single one of my veteran hosts, as “On Leave.” A moment later, a notification popped up. Benjamin had approved all the requests instantly. Then, in a final act of petty revenge, he changed my status from “On Leave” to “Absent,” screenshotted it, and posted it in the company-wide group chat. His message followed: “Behavior like Alice’s—throwing tantrums, shirking responsibility, and suppressing new talent—will be dealt with harshly. For the remainder of the Black Friday event, all control room decisions will be made by the acting director, Tina Vance.” Bestowed with this new power, Tina replied in the chat with a cloying, high-pitched tone. “Thank you for your trust, Mr. Forrester! I won’t let you down! I’ll do everything in my power to make lots and lots of money for you!” A wave of nausea washed over me. I glanced at my “Absent” status on my phone, then settled back into a chair in the corner of the control room. A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face. The veteran hosts, now officially on leave, wasted no time. They walked out of their studios, their faces a mixture of relief and disbelief. “Alice, you’re a lifesaver!” one of them whispered as they gathered around me. “I don’t even care about missing the commission. If this night turns into a total train wreck, I can’t imagine how much we’d have to pay in damages!” I looked at the monitors, now filled exclusively with the new, inexperienced crew. A smirk played on my lips. Last time, my intervention prevented a three-million-dollar disaster. This time, without me in the way, Tina was on track to create a catastrophe worth billions. And I was dying to find out if Benjamin’s affection for her was strong enough to survive a billion-dollar debt. 3 As the minutes ticked by, the broadcast devolved into chaos. A product that was supposed to have a five-minute feature was still being stammered through fifteen minutes later. Meanwhile, a high-end item from a brand that had paid a fortune for a primetime slot was glossed over in a few mumbled sentences because the new host couldn’t remember the talking points. The viewer count in our main channel, once pre-hyped to over a hundred thousand, plummeted to less than ten thousand. The comment sections were a bloodbath. “LOL, he’s promoting paper towels by talking about how ancient paper was made from rotten fishing nets? Does this guy have a brain?” “Wow. He’s selling soda and then sneering that ‘fat people should drink less.’ Hey buddy, it’s our fat money paying your salary, you don’t get to lecture us!” I sat back and watched as Tina frantically tried to manage the disaster from the console. Her phone began ringing off the hook—furious calls from brand representatives. In a desperate bid to stabilize the viewership numbers, I watched her dump the entire promotional ad budget into the lowest-performing channels, a move akin to setting a pile of cash on fire. Benjamin tried calling her, but her line was busy. So he called me. Remembering his decree to give the rookies space to learn, I simply turned my phone off. Only after the viewer numbers had temporarily stabilized did Tina dare to pick up her phone. Faced with a screaming brand manager, she didn’t apologize or try to fix the situation. Instead, she burst into tears. “It’s not my fault!” she wailed into the phone. “I’m new at this! Can’t you people have a little more compassion for a rookie?” The manager on the other end exploded. “We spent tens of millions on this Black Friday campaign! We give you compassion, who gives us our money back? Are you going to cover our losses?” Offended by his tone, Tina simply hung up on him. She then tried to call Benjamin, but for some reason, her calls wouldn’t go through. Defeated, she slumped over the console and began to sob. Just then, one of my colleagues gasped. “They’re pulling out! Alice, brands are pulling their products! All the low-margin, high-volume items that were supposed to draw traffic… they’re all gone!” “She’s right,” another added, her face pale. “Alice, you should probably turn your phone on. Mr. Forrester is… he’s losing it in the group chat.” My team exchanged grim looks, but I just waved a dismissive hand. I didn’t care how vile Benjamin’s messages were. I’d heard far worse from him the last time, when I’d dared to save his company from Tina. I wrapped an arm around my veteran hosts’ shoulders, completely ignoring the sound of Tina’s escalating sobs. “Well, since our all-nighter just turned into a holiday, what do you say I treat you all to some coffee?” Our cheerful departure was a stark contrast to the misery in the control room. It was only after we were settled in a nearby café, bored, that I finally switched my phone back on. Benjamin had created a new group chat with all the brand representatives. Tina wasn’t in it. His first message was an @ to me. “Alice! As the head of the livestreaming department, you bear undeniable responsibility for this disaster! You need to give our brand partners a viable solution. Now!” 4 The brands, not caring about the internal politics, immediately piled on, all of them tagging me. “You’re the head of the department? Do you have any idea how important Black Friday is for us? You put a bunch of incompetent fools on screen who can’t even read a damn script. What did you do with our hundred-thousand-dollar placement fee, use it to pay for your staff’s lobotomies?” One particularly enraged manager sent a 60-second voice memo, his voice screaming through the phone’s tiny speaker. “What the hell is wrong with your company? Your host tells customers my $89 eyeliner isn’t expensive and then dares them to buy it if they can afford it! Are you people blind? Are you actively trying to sabotage us just to ruin our sales?!” Facing the barrage of messages, I, as a group administrator, simply enabled Mute All. Then, I posted the screenshot of Benjamin’s earlier announcement—the one where he’d stripped me of my authority. “My apologies,” I typed. “I actually have no idea what’s happening in the control room. Mr. Forrester, you personally put someone else in charge of tonight’s event. You can’t just shift the blame to me when things go wrong.” I paused, then added one more message. “And by the way, Benjamin, I don’t care if you want to burn down your own company for Tina. But the divorce papers are on your desk. I suggest you sign them.” I unmuted the chat. The group chat fell into a dead silence. Benjamin’s call came faster than I expected. I answered and immediately held the phone an arm’s length away from my ear. “ALICE! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND?” he roared. “I just wanted you to cover for Tina for a bit! You’re the head of the department, she’s just a rookie! Are you telling me you have zero responsibility here?” “And what the hell is this about a divorce? You’re bringing this up now, in a chat full of our biggest partners? Are you trying to ruin me?” I waited until he’d sputtered to a stop before bringing the phone back to my ear. “Benjamin, I suggest you sign it. The terms are very favorable to you. All I want is the house in Aspen Hills. Sign it now, before I start revealing things that will make you wish this was all you had to worry about.”

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I am Dr. Evelyn Reed, the nation’s foremost expert in heart transplant surgery. I cut short a research fellowship abroad for an emergency procedure, flying halfway across the world on a moment’s notice. But the second I stepped out of the airport, a mob of women ambushed me in the parking garage, brandishing a massive banner that read: “SHAME THE MISTRESS, SAVE THE MARRIAGE.” They screamed that I was a slut, a homewrecker. Then, they broke my right hand—my golden hand. The woman in charge ground her stiletto into my cheek, her voice a venomous hiss. “You little bitch! You thought you could seduce my billionaire husband? I’ll make sure you’re crippled for life, unable to spread your legs for anyone ever again!” With that, she swung a baseball bat and shattered my left hand too. What she didn’t know was that my hands, the very ones she’d just destroyed, were the only hands in the world that could save her husband’s life. 1 As I entered the underground parking garage, the first thing I saw was the banner: “SHAME THE MISTRESS, SAVE THE MARRIAGE.” The woman holding it, clearly the ringleader, was in the middle of a tearful livestream. “Everyone,” she sobbed, her voice thick with anguish, “I just found out I’m pregnant, and my husband… my husband has a mistress. And she’s not just any mistress. She had the audacity to send me intimate photos of them together!” Her voice cracked. “Because of her, my husband told me to get out of his life, to leave with nothing and never come back!” “I can’t take it anymore!” she wailed. “I just want to die!” She made a dramatic lunge toward a nearby car, but her entourage of friends quickly pulled her back, their faces masks of righteous fury. “Why should you be the one to die? It’s that homewrecker who deserves it, flaunting her nerve in front of the legal wife.” “Don’t be afraid, Isabelle. We’re all on your side. We’ll make that bitch pay!” The group erupted in a cacophony of vicious threats, each more vulgar than the last. I frowned, a flicker of curiosity tempting me to stay, but the emergency surgery was waiting. I had to go. I was scanning the lane numbers for my driver when the entire mob suddenly swarmed towards me. “There she is! We finally found the slut!” “So this is why Matthew has been flying abroad so often! Hiding his little whore in another country! I bet you rushed back to suck up to him for his surgery, didn’t you? Pathetic!” CRACK! Before I could process what was happening, a stinging pain exploded across my cheek. The woman—Isabelle—grabbed a fistful of my hair and began slapping me relentlessly. “You bitch! I’ve finally got you!” She yanked me to the ground, my medical files scattering across the concrete. Her friends egged her on. “Get her, Isabelle! Kill the damn dog! She deserves to be drawn and quartered for seducing another woman’s husband!” It finally clicked. I was the mistress they were talking about. But that was impossible. My life was a blur of labs and operating rooms; I barely had time to shake a man’s hand, let alone become a homewrecker. Fury surged through me. I struggled against Isabelle’s grip, shouting, “I’m not a mistress! You’ve made a mistake—” 2 My words were cut short as Isabelle, like a woman possessed, slammed my head against the ground again and again. A crowd of onlookers had gathered, their murmurs a toxic hum. “Homewreckers deserve whatever they get.” “She looks so clean-cut and proper, though. Why would a woman like that choose to be a mistress?” “Don’t fall for it! It’s all an act. Underneath, she’s just another calculating slut, always looking for a rich man to leech off of.” The world spun, the voices closing in. I thought I was going to vomit. “Stop!” I screamed, my voice raw. “I’m not who you think I am! What you’re doing is illegal!” My protests only fueled their rage. They saw it as defiance, and their blows grew harder. My vision started to blur, the warm stickiness of blood matting my hair. Finally, Isabelle released her grip slightly, sneering down at me. “My husband sent me your little photo shoot himself. You still dare to say you’re not his mistress?” She held up her phone for her livestream audience to see. On the screen was a picture of me in my white lab coat, leaning over the billionaire Matthew Flanagan, my hand placed gently on his lips. The photo had been filtered and cropped to oblivion, creating an image dripping with seductive intimacy. It was the ultimate uniform fetish fantasy. The livestream chat exploded. “OMG, her husband is so hot! No wonder this slut is after him. She should die!” “You can tell by the way she poses she’s a pro at this. Total trash.” “Her boobs are practically in his face! And she still denies it? Isabelle, rip that fox’s tail off!” A week ago, Matthew Flanagan had sought me out, begging me to perform his heart transplant. He suffered from a congenital heart defect and had spent his life searching for a compatible donor. He’d finally found one, but a recent scan revealed a complex tumor growing perilously close to his heart. The surgery to remove it and perform the transplant required a level of skill that, in this country, only I possessed. When he found me, Matthew was ecstatic. He promised me a lifetime of financial security, offering to fund all my future research projects if I would just save his life. I took the responsibility seriously, even flying abroad for a final conference to ensure I was at the absolute peak of my abilities for his procedure. The surgery was scheduled for one o’clock this afternoon. Now, because of some ridiculously manipulated photo, I was being beaten in a parking garage. I glanced at my watch. It was already ten. “That photo was taken during a stethoscope examination for Mr. Flanagan,” I explained, my voice tight with urgency. “There were several people in the room. It’s not what you think. His surgery is at 1 PM today, and I am the lead surgeon. Let me go now. If this surgery is delayed, no one can afford the consequences.” My serious tone gave Isabelle a moment’s pause. Just as I thought she might see reason, one of her friends leaned in and whispered, “Don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to get away. The second you let her go, she’ll run straight to your husband and play the victim.” Another chimed in, “Think about it, Isabelle. The top surgeon in the country? Do you really think it would be some woman who’s not even thirty? Besides, if she was so important, wouldn’t he have sent a private car and a security detail? He’s a billionaire, after all.” Matthew had offered a private car, but I’d refused. I’ve always been focused on my work, not the trappings of wealth. A one-hour ride from the airport to the hospital in a civilized society—what could possibly go wrong? I never imagined a soap opera cliché would be my undoing. I tried to explain, but Isabelle was no longer listening. “Stop trying to trick me! Who is that naive anymore? My husband is one of the richest men in the world. People line up to get a piece of him. No one refuses his generosity.” She leaned down, her voice dripping with scorn. “‘Mr. Flanagan’? ‘Stethoscope examination’? ‘Several people’?” With each phrase, she slapped me hard across the face. “You shameless little bitch. You really are something else, fresh from your trip abroad. So sophisticated, so… open.” “You like playing dress-up, huh?” she sneered. “A little cosplay fetish? Well, today, you’re going to play until you’ve had enough.” At her signal, her friends dragged me toward their van. I had a mild concussion, and my body was a canvas of pain. I was too weak to resist. Someone in the crowd tried to intervene. “Even if she is a mistress, this is against the law! Look at what you’ve done to her!” Isabelle shot the young woman a withering glare. “Look at you, all decked out in designer brands at your age. I bet you earned them on your back too. Sluts protecting sluts. Keep your mouth shut before someone decides to teach you a lesson.” The girl burst into tears and shrank back. No one else dared to speak up. Suddenly, my phone, which had fallen to the ground, began to ring. Isabelle snatched it up. The caller ID read “Davies.” Her face twisted into a mask of rage. She answered, and the frantic voice of Matthew’s assistant filled the air. “Dr. Reed, where are you? Mr. Flanagan is fading fast. He needs you urgently.” Before he could finish, Isabelle shrieked and smashed the phone on the ground, shattering it to pieces. “Oh, that’s just perfect! He won’t let me, his wife, be with him for a ‘minor procedure,’ but he specifically requests his little slut to be by his side to serve him.” “I’m carrying his child! What do you have?” Her rage escalating, Isabelle jumped into the back of the van and grabbed a rope. My eyes widened in terror. Those hands were meant to save Matthew’s life this afternoon. “Don’t touch me!” I screamed. My fear only seemed to please her. Her friends held me down while Isabelle wrapped the rope around my wrists, pulling it brutally tight. A searing pain shot through my hands, and a primal instinct took over. A surgeon’s hands are their life. With a surge of adrenaline, I kicked out, driving my knee hard into Isabelle’s side. The space was cramped. She cried out in pain. “Agh! It hurts!” Her friends, panicked, immediately let go of me to tend to her. Seizing the opportunity, I scrambled out of the van and ran. I didn’t get more than a few yards before something slammed into my back with tremendous force. They had hit me with the van. I felt bones snap, a coppery taste filled my mouth. Every breath was agony. A hand grabbed my hair, and I was dragged back into the vehicle. 4 SMACK! Another blow landed on my face. Isabelle was pale, clutching her stomach, her features distorted with pain and fury. “You little bitch! You worthless piece of trash! You dared to hit me? I’ll make you wish you were never born!” I knew she was pregnant, so I had aimed for her side, not her abdomen, and had pulled my strength. But in her mind, I was trying to kill her baby to take her place. She began kicking and punching me wildly. I was fading, my breaths shallow. Then, from somewhere, she produced a long, thick steel needle. Its tip glinted in the dim light, and a cold dread washed over me. “I kicked you…” I rasped. “You’re not showing yet… a three or four-month fetus is unstable. You need to go to a hospital… now.” Isabelle just laughed, a horrifying, joyless sound. “Don’t you worry about me.” She leaned in close, her eyes glittering with malice. “Your hands are important to you, aren’t they? Then I’ll destroy them.” “No!” I begged, my voice cracking with desperation. “Please, I’m a surgeon at City General Hospital! You can call them and verify! I am not Matthew Flanagan’s mistress, I swear! Just call him, and you’ll know I’m not lying!” The path to becoming a surgeon had been grueling. Countless nights spent in the lab, running data until dawn. While others were dating, traveling, I was with lab rats and anatomy charts. Eight years of my life, the best years of my youth, dedicated to reaching this point. The sacrifices were unimaginable. I couldn’t lose the ability to hold a scalpel. Not like this. “If you’re still angry, please, stick the needle in my leg, or even my face, I don’t care! Just please, not my hands, I’m begging you…” I would have knelt if I could have moved. Isabelle sneered. “Don’t make it sound like I’m the bully here. You tried to murder my child. A needle in your thigh won’t teach you a lesson, will it?” With that, she pinned my hand down and drove the steel needle straight through the center of my palm. “AAAAAHHH!” A scream tore from my throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. My whole body convulsed. Blood welled up around the metal, blurring my vision with tears. It felt like the needle had pierced my very soul, planting a seed of absolute despair. Eight years. How many eight years does a person get in a lifetime? My faith, my perseverance, my hope for the future—all of it severed by a single steel needle. My hands were meant to fail on an operating table, after a long and storied career, not to be destroyed in a dirty van. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. The pain was so immense it became a dull, distant throb. My brain, shutting down, wrapped itself in a protective fog. Seeing that I was no longer screaming, just cradling my mangled hand and weeping silently, one of her friends grew nervous. “Isabelle… what if we killed her?” A cruel light flickered in Isabelle’s eyes. “What are you afraid of? I’ve never seen someone die from a hole in their hand.” She shoved me. “Stop faking. A little puncture like that will heal. Don’t be so dramatic.” Soon, they pulled up to a luxury hotel. Isabelle, clearly familiar with the place, got the key card to the top-floor presidential suite and her friends dragged me inside. “You like your uniform fantasies, don’t you? Well, today you’re going to get your fill!” she announced to her livestream. “Everyone, how about a little treat? Let’s make this bitch put on a show for us, shall we?” I lay limp on the floor, summoning my last ounce of strength to issue a final warning. “You keep breaking the law. Have you thought for a second about how this will end for you? Matthew Flanagan is still waiting for me to perform his surgery. If you let me go now, I can still guide another team through the procedure. There’s still a good chance of success.” Even then, the doctor in me was worried about my patient. Isabelle let out a cold, sharp laugh. “If you’re a doctor, then I’ll eat my own shit upside down. Stop pretending you’re some noble professional, you little slut. Take a good look at yourself.” Her friends returned with an armful of cheap, revealing lingerie and costumes. When I refused to put them on, they swarmed me, tearing at my clothes. My injured hands were useless. Blood smeared across my skin as they ripped my blouse, exposing me to their camera before forcing me into one degrading outfit after another. The viewer count on the livestream skyrocketed into the hundreds of thousands. “Damn, she’s got a good body. I can see why the billionaire fell for her.” “This is how you deal with mistresses. They have no shame. Now everyone can see what a pathetic whore she is. Let’s see her try to seduce another man after this.” “To all the white knights in the comments, let’s see how you feel when this bitch comes for your husband.” The vile comments were a second assault, a psychological torture that matched the physical. I bit my tongue until it bled, the sharp pain the only thing keeping me from completely breaking down. Just as they were about to force me into humiliating poses, Isabelle’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, and the rage on her face instantly melted into a soft, demure expression. She shot me a triumphant smirk and provocatively put the call on speaker. Before she could say a word, Matthew Flanagan’s furious voice erupted from the phone. “Did you, or did you not, abduct a woman from the airport?” Isabelle froze, the fury instantly returning to her eyes. “I didn’t abduct anyone,” she snapped. “I was just teaching a homewrecker a lesson.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by a wave of incandescent rage. “Let her go. NOW.” “I’m on my way. If you’ve harmed her in any way, I swear to God, you’re dead.” Thump. The phone slipped from Isabelle’s hand. She swayed on her feet, barely able to stand. She knew Matthew well enough to know he never made empty threats. Her friends exchanged panicked glances, their hands falling away from me. “Isabelle, what’s going on?” one of them whispered, sweat beading on her forehead. “Why is he so angry?” Isabelle slapped the woman across the face. “How the hell should I know?!” She turned on me, her eyes wild with a new, terrifying madness. “You still say you’re not his mistress? I’ve never heard Matthew sound so worried about anyone!” She had completely lost it. She slapped me several more times, then grabbed a fruit knife from a nearby table. “What are you doing? Are you insane?” I scrambled backward, but it was no use. I had no strength left. Her friends were starting to panic. “Isabelle, if this goes any further… someone’s really going to get killed.” “I’m not an idiot,” Isabelle shot back. “I’m not going to jail for killing her. I’m just going to ruin that pretty little face of hers. Let’s see how she seduces Matthew after this!” She regained her confidence. “Besides, he would never let me die. I’m carrying his child, his own flesh and blood.” Her words seemed to erase any remaining doubt in her friends’ minds. A flicker of excitement, of vicarious cruelty, lit up their eyes. They pinned me to the floor. A cold, sharp pain seared across my cheek as the blade dragged through my skin. Blood welled up, filling my vision with a crimson haze. My heart turned to ash. Tears streamed from my eyes, mixing with the blood. “Let’s see you seduce another man now,” Isabelle said, clapping her hands together, a look of profound satisfaction on her face. Just then, a call came from the front desk. Matthew Flanagan was on his way up, and he was furious. The thought of their unborn child being a shield was suddenly not so comforting. Panic washed over their faces. Isabelle’s mind raced. “Hide her,” she ordered. “We’ll tell him she’s not here.”

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My parents asked me to oversee my childhood friend Leo’s company, so I took a role as his finance manager. But right after he left on a business trip, new intern Jessica Shaw burst into my office, demanding I process her expense report. I stared at her stack of luxury boutique receipts. “Jessica,” I said confusedly, “I only reimburse company expenses—these are personal (handbags, clothes). Not my call.” She threw her iced latte at me. “I’m the boss’s fiancée! Company money’s mine!” she shrieked. “Don’t deny my receipts ‘cause you grew up with him!” I held back anger, pulled out the employee handbook. “I can’t,” I repeated. “Funds need official approval.” She called Leo, voice sickeningly sweet: “Honey, do I need your friend’s okay to buy things? Is she being tough ‘cause you two have something going on?” I heard Leo’s flustered denial. Soon after, he posted in the company group: “Jessica Shaw is my fiancée—second boss, answers only to me.” He tagged me: “Finance isn’t a nanny. I’m not interested—stay out. It’s my money, let her spend. Quit if you don’t like it!” I signed off on all her receipts silently. A week later, Leo returned and gaped at the ten-foot-long company debt printout. 1 Jessica burst back into my office while I was still cleaning up the sticky latte mess from my documents. She slammed her phone down on my desk. “Can you read, nanny?” she sneered, her eyes filled with contempt. I slowly looked down at the screen. In the group chat, Leo was still on a roll. He’d tagged everyone. “I’m out of the office. From now on, Jessica is in charge. What she says, goes. If you have a problem with that, you can leave.” My phone rang. It was Leo. “Jessica just told me everything,” he yelled, his voice dripping with impatience. “She’s an employee. Why didn’t you approve her reimbursements? Why are you deliberately targeting her?” I opened my mouth to explain, but he cut me off. “Let me give you a warning. Know your place. To put it nicely, you’re the finance manager. To put it bluntly, you’re my dog. And Jessica is your mistress.” A loud giggle erupted from Jessica’s side of the room. She leaned toward my phone, her voice a sickly sweet coo. “Leo, honey, you’re still…” “Are you sure you want me to reimburse Jessica’s expenses?” I interrupted, my voice cold. I calmly opened my phone’s voice recorder. “Stop wasting my time! Just approve it, now!” A small, tight smile touched my lips. “Alright.” I hung up and, without a moment’s hesitation, signed the expense form. “The money will be in your account within five minutes.” Jessica looked triumphant. She picked up a stack of receipts and patted me on the cheek with them. “I’ll let it slide this time,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “But next time, watch your tone when you speak to me, you pathetic mutt.” I caught her wrist. A sharp twist, and Jessica’s face contorted in pain. “Jessica,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “you are not worthy of speaking to me like that.” After all, my family had put up most of the capital to start this company. We held the majority of the shares. Leo might be the CEO, but I was the one holding the purse strings. I flung her hand away. Caught off guard, she stumbled and fell to the floor. Her eyes widened, and she let out a piercing shriek. “You dare to hit me!” At that moment, a notification chimed from her phone—the money had arrived. She shot a venomous glare at me, scrambled to her feet, and stormed out, but not before shouting, “Just you wait! I’ll destroy you!” I had the next quarter’s reports to worry about, so I paid her no mind. Half an hour later, Lily, a colleague I was friendly with, rushed into my office. “Chloe, it’s bad! You’ve been… you’ve been exposed.” Her face was pale. “The group chat is blowing up!” A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. In the three years I’d worked here, no one besides Leo knew I was the sole heiress to the Gordon fortune. Had they found out? Lily held her phone out to me, her voice a whisper. “Chloe, I don’t believe any of it. I know you’re not that kind of person.” She patted my shoulder reassuringly. “You would never be a mistress, right?” Her words hit me like a splash of ice water. “A mistress? Whose mistress am I supposed to be?” I grabbed the phone and saw that Jessica had created a new group chat—one that included everyone in the company but me—and had filled it with photos of me. 2 “Let me educate you all,” Jessica had written. “This coat Chloe is wearing? It’s Burberry. Sells for over five thousand dollars.” “This bag? It’s Louis Vuitton. You can’t get it for under fifteen grand.” “And the shoes, the sunglasses, even the hair clip… her whole outfit is worth nearly fifty thousand dollars.” She posted another photo. “I’m sure you all recognize this car brand. I won’t say more, but you tell me: how does a finance manager afford all this?” The chat, which had been quiet, erupted. Many were already sucking up to Jessica after Leo’s announcement. Now, they were fabricating stories out of thin air. “I think I saw her get into a car with a much older man last week.” “Tsk, tsk. I always knew there was something off about her.” “If Jessica hadn’t pointed this out, we would’ve all been fooled.” Emboldened by the support, Jessica grew even more audacious. “I’m telling you all this because I need you to stand up for what’s right,” she wrote. “Chloe is constantly sending messages to your boss behind my back. She even told him to come to her house late at night.” She posted a screenshot. It was a message from me to Leo, sent at 1 AM. It read: “Come to my house. Now.” The context was that my father had found a major issue in a contract and had summoned Leo for an emergency meeting. But without that context, it was damning. With this “proof,” the floodgates opened. “Doesn’t she know Leo and Jessica are getting married soon?” “Oh, I know her type. I used to be a bitch just like her, always trying to steal other women’s men…” Lily snatched the phone back, her hands trembling. “Chloe, this is all fake, right?” I gave her a grateful nod. “It is. It’s a long story, but thank you for telling me.” I motioned to her phone. “Can I take a picture of this?” “A picture?” I smiled. “Yes. I’m going to the police. This is slander.” Without another word, Lily handed the phone back. “Good, Chloe! You should!” I quickly documented the evidence and sent it to my family’s lawyer. Then I turned back to Lily. “Don’t worry. I’m not the person they’re describing.” When I first saw the messages, I was hurt, confused, and furious. My first instinct was to storm out and confront Jessica. But I knew that would only make things worse and wouldn’t clear my name. The lawyer replied almost immediately. “This constitutes defamation, Miss Gordon. Shall I draft the lawsuit now?” “Please do,” I replied. “Send it to me when it’s done. I’ll give all the materials to the police at once.” Just as I hit send, my office door swung open. Jessica sauntered in, hands on her hips, and plopped into the chair opposite me. “Well, well, the great finance manager. You look a little bored.” I didn’t bother to look up. Unfazed, she played a voice message from Leo. “If you want to go shopping, just go. You can’t carry everything yourself, so just grab someone to help you. Or just take Chloe. She’s not busy.” When the message ended, Jessica watched me with a mocking grin. I maintained my smile, tidied my desk, and stood up. “Let’s go, Jessica. I’ll take you on a little shopping spree.” 3 My compliance seemed to surprise her. She stared at me for a few seconds before sneering, “That’s more like it. It’s good for you to know your place.” I ignored her, acting as her dutiful chauffeur. At the mall, she marched straight into a high-end designer store. “Let me see this one.” She tried on five different handbags, preening in the mirror before turning to me. “Chloe, do you think this one suits me?” “Buy it,” I said flatly. She didn’t need my encouragement. With a wave of her hand, she told the sales associate to ring up all five. At the counter, she gestured for me to pay. I almost laughed. “You’re buying things, and you want me to pay?” She shot me a disdainful look. “With what? Your money?” She waggled her fingers impatiently. “I want the company card. Give it to me. Hurry up!” I feigned shock. “The company card?” I started to protest, but she cut me off with a warning glare. “Don’t forget who you are! Just because you’re holding our money for a while doesn’t make it yours. Did you already forget the lesson my fiancé taught you?” I pressed my lips together and dutifully pulled out the corporate card. “You’re right. If Leo said you can spend whatever you want, who am I to interfere?” With the card in hand, Jessica’s behavior grew even more outrageous. She swept into the next store and pointed at an entire display of handbags. “I’ll take all of them.” In a single afternoon, she charged nearly two hundred thousand dollars. As the clock neared 5:30, I reminded her that it was time to head back. “Oh, we’re not going back,” she said with a smirk. “The department is having a dinner tonight. We couldn’t possibly go without you.” On cue, a few of our colleagues appeared. “Jessica, we’re here!” “Are you sure about a seafood feast? Won’t that be too expensive?” They all fawned over Jessica, pointedly ignoring me. To my surprise, Brenda, a manager I’d always had a decent relationship with, singled me out. “Chloe, I understand wanting to marry rich, but a woman has to have some self-respect, doesn’t she? To throw yourself at someone else’s man like that…?” “Brenda, that’s enough!” Jessica interrupted with a laugh, then handed her one of the new handbags. “You’re a veteran of this company, one of our most valuable assets. Think of this as a bonus.” Everyone stared, their eyes wide with shock. Brenda was ecstatic. “Jessica, are you serious? A bag this expensive… for me?” Once she confirmed it was real, the floodgates opened. Everyone started taking shots at me. I said nothing, just quietly started a video recording on my phone, capturing every ugly expression, every malicious word. After a while, Jessica silenced them. She pointed to a high-end seafood buffet across the way. “We’re eating there tonight! My treat!” She shot me a gloating look. “And Chloe, you have to come!” I tried to refuse, but Brenda, eager to score more points with Jessica, grabbed my arm. “She’s the boss’s fiancée,” she whispered. “You’d better play along if you know what’s good for you.” They dragged me to the restaurant entrance. Jessica pointed to our group. “A table for five, please.” Then she gestured at me. “This woman is just here to carry my bags. She won’t be eating. Can she still come in?” 4 The hostess looked confused. Everyone else was looking at me with undisguised contempt. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s not allowed.” That was all the opening Jessica needed. She smiled sweetly at me. “You heard her. You can’t come in. After all, someone like you can’t be trusted not to steal food.” They all burst into laughter. I just shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll wait for you outside.” My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate her. She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. We don’t need you. You can go.” “Okay.” Without a backward glance, I left. On my way to the car, I sent the newly recorded video to my lawyer with a simple message: “Transcribe this for me.” Workplace bullying, defamation—it was all there, clear as day. Even if some of it wasn’t criminal, it was certainly grounds for termination. When I got home that night, I checked the corporate account. The balance was almost zero. A sudden drop in liquid assets like that could cripple a company. But I wasn’t worried. This was Leo’s mess. I was going to make him swallow every last bitter bite of it. Over the next week, Jessica drained the account completely and even managed to rack up over six hundred thousand dollars in debt. She bought herself a fleet of new clothes, a mountain of handbags, and finally, a car identical to mine. And while she was on her shopping spree, I was meticulously collecting evidence. The day all the legal documents were ready, just as I was about to call the police, Jessica walked in, clinging to Leo’s arm. He had come straight from the airport, his luggage still in tow, and he was furious. “Chloe, everyone else might not know Jessica is my fiancée, but you do! Are you playing dumb with the rest of them?” he snarled. “And I know you have a crush on me, but I’m officially telling you: I’m not interested!” I felt a wave of disgust wash over me. “A crush on you?” “What else could it be? You think you hid it so well?” he said, full of self-assurance. “If you didn’t like me, why would you have come to work as the finance manager at my company?” I couldn’t help but let out a cold, humorless laugh. I was here for two reasons: one, because my family owned a majority stake, and two, because Leo’s own father didn’t trust him to run the company alone and had begged me to come. Jessica tugged on his arm, her lower lip trembling. “Honey, she won’t approve the expense for the car I want…” Leo glared at me. “Why won’t you reimburse Jessica’s car?” I looked at them, genuinely confused. “You have the card. What is there for me to reimburse?” Then it hit me. “Stop playing dumb!” Jessica shrieked. “When I tried to buy the car, the card was declined! You must have done something to it!” I understood now. She had hit the card’s credit limit. “There’s no money left on the card. That’s why it was declined.” “Impossible! There was over three hundred thousand dollars on it when I left!” Leo shot back, tapping impatiently on my desk. “Hand over the money. Now.” I spread my hands in a gesture of helplessness. “The money is gone. But I do have the statements, if you’d like to see them.” Leo was too caught up in his own confusion to notice the flicker of panic in Jessica’s eyes. “Give me the statements.” “It’s not a statement,” I corrected him patiently as I handed him the thick stack of papers. “It’s a list of debts.” “How is this possible?” His horrified scream nearly shattered the windows of my office. His face was chalk-white as he collapsed into a chair. “How could the company be this much in debt?” 5 Jessica was the first to react, pointing an accusing finger at me. “It was you!” she shrieked. “You’re the finance manager! You control the money! You must have spent it all!” Her words immediately swayed Leo. He looked at me with hatred in his eyes. “Where is it? Where did all the money go?” I leaned back in my chair nonchalantly. “Where did the money go? Jessica, you should know the answer to that better than anyone.” I played the video I had recorded at the restaurant. Jessica’s voice filled the room. “Don’t worry, everyone, eat up! It’s all on me! Seafood buffet tonight, and tomorrow, I’m taking you all to that rooftop restaurant downtown. It’s three hundred dollars a person!” A chorus of cheers followed. Leo’s face turned an ugly shade of gray. Jessica lunged for my phone. “That’s a lie! That video is fake!” She tried to delete it, but before she could, the office door opened and two police officers walked in. I glanced at my watch. It had only been fifteen minutes since I called them. Impressive. “Are you Chloe Gordon?” one of them asked me. I nodded. “We’re looking for a Jessica Shaw.” Jessica instantly shrank behind Leo. He, to his credit, stood his ground. “I’m her fiancé. What is this about?” “We received a complaint that she has been publicly slandering an individual and has embezzled company funds. We need to take her in for questioning. We need Ms. Shaw to cooperate.” The officer’s words finally seemed to break through Leo’s denial. He looked at Jessica in disbelief. “You embezzled company funds?” She shook her head stubbornly. “I only spent your money! How could I have embezzled anything? It was her! She’s trying to frame me!” All the blame was suddenly directed back at me. I just raised an eyebrow. “I’ve already provided the police with all the evidence. Do you really think they’ll believe a few fabricated lies? And Leo, you’ve seen the debt statements.” I twirled a pen between my fingers. “All of that spending was done by Jessica.” After a moment’s hesitation, Leo stepped in front of Jessica again. “This is my company! I am the boss, and I am not pressing charges!” The atmosphere in the room grew tense. A smug, triumphant smile spread across Jessica’s face.

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My wife’s ex-boyfriend, Kyle, came back from overseas with a lot of fanfare. She didn’t just hire him for a fat salary; she brought him straight into a meeting with my most important business partner. I tried to tell her gently that Kyle was too inexperienced, that he’d torpedo the project. My wife, Rachel, just scowled. “We have a child together, Kevin. Kyle is my past. Why can’t you just let it go?” Kyle chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “For a guy who married into the family, you spend more time being paranoid than actually working. You’ve got a hell of a nerve.” I stared at Rachel, stunned. “Since when did I ‘marry into the family’?” 1 “Rachel was just trying to save your dignity by not announcing you were a kept man,” Kyle sneered, right in front of our partner, whose face was already turning to stone. “Don’t tell me a few years of the good life made you forget the days you were digging through trash cans for food?” My gaze turned to ice. “You’re a new sales hire. What gives you the right to interrupt a conversation between me and the Chairman?” Before I could say more, Rachel slammed her hand on the table. “Have you had enough!” she snapped. “I brought Kyle here to talk business, not for you to throw a jealous fit and try to push him out!” I looked at her, baffled, convinced I’d misheard. I had scheduled this dinner with our top partner, Mr. Peterson, two weeks ago. Everything was prepared, all the details ironed out, just waiting for a signature. But ten minutes ago, she’d shown up with her ex-boyfriend, Kyle, ready to hijack the whole deal. And Kyle, arrogant as ever, had managed to offend Peterson with his first sentence. As the company’s chairman, Rachel didn’t step in to protect our interests or ask Kyle to leave. Instead, she was accusing me of making a scene. It was insane. Mr. Peterson frowned at us. “If you have family matters to sort out, perhaps we should postpone this. I only do business with people who are prepared.” Rachel’s eyes went wide with shock, not expecting him to suddenly back out. I just watched her, a coldness spreading through me. I had no intention of saving this. She had orchestrated this mess herself. But then, to my utter astonishment, Kyle spoke up. “Mr. Peterson, please don’t go! We came here with the utmost sincerity to work with you.” He flashed a smile. “How about we offer another ten percent off our profit margin?” His words stunned not only Peterson but me as well. The five percent I had originally negotiated was already the absolute limit for us to still turn a profit. But he was offering ten. We wouldn’t just make nothing; we’d lose a fortune on materials and labor! Even with the rage coiling in my gut, I couldn’t just stand by. Rachel and I had built this company from the ground up. I wouldn’t let Kyle burn it down. “Mr. Peterson, he’s a new employee and doesn’t fully understand the project,” I said smoothly. “If you’re still interested, we can proceed with the original five percent offer. It ensures a mutually beneficial partnership for the future.” If Kyle had any sense, he’d shut his mouth and step aside. But he seemed determined to make this a contest. He put on an innocent act. “Oh, I thought you and Mr. Peterson were old buddies, Kevin. I’m surprised you only offered him a five percent cut. My mistake.” He gave a self-deprecating little laugh, slapping his own forehead. “Well, if Mr. Peterson is willing to take a hit just to see his friend get rich, I’ve got nothing more to say. I’ll see myself out.” His words put me on the spot, painting me as a greedy hustler. I grabbed his wrist, my voice low and dangerous. “What the hell are you talking about?” Business is built on trust. Kyle was making it sound like I was conning our partner. A quick glance at Mr. Peterson confirmed my fears; his eyes were now filled with suspicion. I suppressed my anger and turned to my wife. “That five percent margin was something you and I calculated together. Are you just going to let a rookie spout this nonsense and ruin my relationship with Mr. Peterson?” At the end of the day, Kyle was just a salesman. If Rachel sided with me, Peterson would let it slide. But Rachel looked as if her patience had finally snapped. “Kyle isn’t spouting nonsense! The ten percent figure was our original calculation for a win-win. You were the one who got greedy, trying to squeeze out more profit for yourself.” She looked at Peterson, her voice ringing with false sincerity. “At this point, I can’t cover for him anymore. You’ve been a loyal partner for so long, Mr. Peterson. We can’t be dishonest. Even if he is my husband, I can’t stand by and let him lie to you.” With that, Peterson’s face darkened completely. “Kevin,” he said, his voice cold. “I thought of you as a friend. Were you playing me for a fool?” A triumphant smirk played on Kyle’s lips. He clapped a consoling hand on Peterson’s shoulder. “Mr. Peterson, don’t waste your anger on someone who only sees dollar signs. The chairman and I rushed over today specifically to make sure you weren’t taken advantage of. Please, calm down.” Rachel eagerly picked up his cue. “If you’ve lost faith in Kevin, you can direct all future business through Kyle. He’s a top graduate from overseas, incredibly knowledgeable about all kinds of projects and business models.” And just like that, it all became clear. Rachel was using me as a stepping stone to pave the way for her ex-boyfriend. But I’m no pushover. I looked at her, my voice devoid of warmth. “I hope you won’t live to regret what you’ve done today.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “Kevin, have you forgotten your place? I am the sole decision-maker in this company. My choices are not up for your debate!” We founded this company together. Because I loved her, I never cared about titles like Chairman. She wanted to be a powerhouse businesswoman, and I was happy to be the foundation she built upon. When she asked me to step back from the front lines, using our newborn son as an excuse, I played along. Even when she told people I was just a man who’d married into her success, I said nothing. But my love and my concessions hadn’t earned me her understanding. They’d only made her bolder. Looking at Kyle standing beside her, I sighed, deciding to give her one last chance. Our son, Bobby, was only five. I didn’t want him to suffer through his parents’ separation. “If you want to help Kyle out of some old sentiment, fine. But this project’s margin cannot go beyond five percent!” She was right that we had calculated a ten percent margin. But that was before factoring in the rising costs of labor and raw materials. Once those were included, five percent was the maximum. Any more, and we’d be losing money, paying for the privilege of working. The company had done well over the years, but it couldn’t withstand that kind of bleeding. If this happened once, it would happen again. I couldn’t watch her gamble away everything we’d built. I expected some flicker of recognition, but her face was a mask of disgust. “Do you think you can control me just because you’re a man?” she spat. “Let me tell you, women are just as capable in the business world! I said ten percent, and I will not go back on my word!” At that, Mr. Peterson started clapping. “Excellent! Chairman Rachel, a woman of her word. In that case, my choice is clear. I’ll go with your company!” Kyle shot me a smug, victorious look. “Some people think marrying into wealth gives them control, but they forget that a pretty face is only good for living off someone else. When it comes to real business, they don’t get a say.” His words were a direct jab at me, but Rachel didn’t even flinch. She was too busy smiling and raising a glass to Peterson. Seeing that he had Peterson’s ear, Kyle feigned a sigh. “He knew there was a ten percent margin but told you five just so he could pocket the difference. Now that Mr. Peterson has graciously decided to continue working with us, don’t you think you owe him some kind of apology, Kevin?” I stared at Kyle, my silence a wall of ice. Even if my status in the company had slipped, I was still the Vice President. What right did a rookie salesman have to talk down to me? But with Rachel’s silent approval, he grew bolder. “At the very least, you should drink three shots as an apology. And don’t give us that nonsense about an alcohol allergy. Who comes to a business dinner and doesn’t drink?” The way he specifically mentioned an “alcohol allergy” was a dead giveaway. My eyes snapped to Rachel. She looked away, a flicker of guilt on her face, but then she hardened. “Kyle told you to drink, so drink. It’s not going to kill you.” It was true. I have a severe alcohol allergy and a chronic stomach condition. Years ago, when Rachel said she wanted the company to grow faster, I threw myself into networking, wining and dining investors. I drank until I ended up in the hospital with a perforated ulcer. Rachel had wept by my bedside, swearing that nothing was more important than my health. She made me promise never to drink again, saying if I did, she would never speak to me again. Now, I looked at her and gave a slow, deliberate nod. “If this is what you want, I’ll give it to you.” But after these three glasses, you and I are done. A fiery trail of liquor seared its way down my throat. I fought back the nausea and walked out of the private dining room. Behind me, I could faintly hear their laughter. Kyle’s voice, thick with feigned concern, drifted out. “I thought you were doing so well all these years, Rachel. I never imagined you’d marry a pretty boy like him. He even had the nerve to give you attitude in front of Mr. Peterson. The disrespect is unbelievable!” My steps faltered. I wanted to hear what Rachel would say. After a brief pause, she replied, “Compared to you, with your Master’s degree from overseas, he’s just a community college dropout. A few years in management and he’s forgotten where he came from. Tomorrow, I’m announcing his demotion.” Kyle was quick with the flattery. “A brilliant decision. You have to deal with trash like him, who think a little history gives them the right to throw their weight around.” I walked away. There was nothing more I needed to hear. Kyle had repeatedly humiliated me in front of a business partner, and Rachel, my own wife, hadn’t just allowed it—she’d joined in. Years of love and devotion, all burned away in one night. I was done forcing myself to endure it. The moment I stepped outside the hotel, I doubled over, vomiting. A searing fire ripped through my stomach, and I broke out in a cold sweat. The nearest hospital was an hour away, but home, and my medication, was only thirty minutes. I sent a quick text to my lawyer: Draft the divorce papers. Immediately. Then I drove home. Bobby was already asleep. I tiptoed upstairs and took my medicine. Not long after, I heard the lock turn in the front door. I didn’t go to greet Rachel like I always did. Her voice, sharp with irritation, cut through the quiet house. “You walked out on a client without a word, and now you’re home acting like a ghost? Can you stop with the childish drama?” Her shouting woke Bobby, who started to cry. I pushed through the pain, intending to go to him. As I opened my door, I saw Kyle, standing in our living room like he owned the place, calming our son. Bobby, who usually took me ages to soothe, was instantly quieted with a piece of fried chicken from Kyle. He wrapped his little arms around Kyle’s neck. “Daddy Kyle, you’re so nice to me! My daddy never lets me eat this. He’s mean!” Bobby has a sensitive stomach, just like me. I didn’t want him to suffer from the same chronic pain, so I strictly limited his intake of fried, greasy foods. Rachel knew all of this. But she just stood there, watching, saying nothing. She saw me standing in the doorway, my face pale, and her brow just furrowed with annoyance. “Whatever, I’m not going to argue with you,” she said dismissively. “So your stomach hurts. Is it my fault you didn’t eat properly?” She tossed a black plastic bag onto the table. “I wouldn’t normally do something so low-class as getting a doggy bag, but I remembered you can’t go hungry with your stomach issues.” Her tone was condescending, as if packing up leftovers for me was a great sacrifice. But she and Kyle were the ones who had smeared my name, who had forced me to drink, who had caused this flare-up in the first place. Bobby looked at the black bag on the table and asked with childlike innocence, “Isn’t that a trash bag? Is Daddy going to eat trash?” When I didn’t move, Rachel’s voice sharpened with impatience. “They were out of takeout containers. Besides, these bags are stronger. Why should a guttersnipe like you care? You crawled your way up from the bottom.” Her next words struck me like a physical blow. “Weren’t you so poor you had to dig through trash and fight with stray dogs for food?” She said it so casually, so lightly, but it sent a shard of ice through my heart. My parents died when I was young, and I grew up on the streets, surviving on scraps and begging. It was only through the kindness of strangers that I was able to finish school. The first year after graduation, I developed a small software program and made my first real money. I paid back every person who had ever helped me, with interest. I told Rachel everything about my past, holding nothing back. She had cried then, her eyes red with sympathy, and promised she would heal the wounds of my childhood. Now, in front of our son, she was calling me a guttersnipe. Exposing my past, telling him I fought dogs for scraps. I struggled to maintain my composure and looked at Bobby, wanting to tell him there’s no shame in survival. But my son just stared at me with disgust. “Daddy’s gross. People who touch trash are stinky. No wonder Daddy is stinky too.” He pointed a little finger at me. “Daddy told me not to eat dirty things, but he fought with dogs for food! Daddy’s a liar!” Bobby then spat in my direction. “Daddy’s disgusting! I don’t want this daddy! I want a new one! I want Daddy Kyle!” Kyle, holding Bobby, put on a show of gentle refusal. “But you already have a daddy, little guy. I can’t be your daddy.” At that, Bobby burst into tears. I reached out to hold him, but he lunged forward and sank his teeth into my arm. A five-year-old’s teeth are sharp, and he bit down with all his might. Blood welled up instantly. I hissed in pain but was afraid to move, afraid I’d hurt him. As he bit me, he started kicking me wildly. One of his kicks landed squarely in my stomach, and the pain I’d just managed to medicate away roared back to life. Seeing my face twist in agony, Bobby just laughed, a triumphant look in his eyes. “Bad daddy! That’s for not letting me eat fried chicken!” he shrieked. “I beat you! From now on, you have to listen to me! Are you going to let me eat fried chicken and hamburgers or not?”

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1 Seraphina’s first love, Clark, accidentally got himself locked in his office. As my punishment for it, she locked me in an abandoned cold storage unit to “reflect.” “You’re going to feel exactly what Clark felt,” she said, her voice like ice. “Maybe then you’ll learn your lesson.” She slammed the heavy door shut, leaving me with nothing but a single bowl of water. What she didn’t know was that the unit wasn’t abandoned at all. The moment she was gone, the power kicked on, and the chilling units roared to life. I trembled violently in the freezing dark, screaming for help until my throat was raw, my bloody handprints smearing the door and walls in a desperate plea. Seven days later, ready to receive my apology, she had the door opened. What they found was a corpse, frozen solid. … After a long day at work, Seraphina glanced at the clock. “It’s been three days. Hasn’t Alex admitted he was wrong yet?” she muttered. “That man is impossibly stubborn.” Her first love, Clark, entered with a bowl of chicken soup. “Seraphina, let it go. I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” he said softly. “Three days is long enough.” Seraphina’s expression softened the moment she saw him. “You’re just too kind, Clark. If only Alex had a fraction of your empathy.” “Don’t be so angry with him. He just cares about you too much.” At his words, Seraphina pulled out her phone and called her security team. “Has Alex confessed?” “No, Ma’am. It’s completely silent in there. Are you sure… are you sure nothing’s wrong?” “What could possibly be wrong? If he won’t admit his mistake, then he can stay right where he is.” She hung up, her face a mask of cold indifference once more. Beside her, Clark couldn’t hide a flicker of triumph in his eyes. You’ll be waiting forever for my confession, Seraphina. Because I’m already dead. I died three days ago. The moment they left, that “abandoned” cold storage unit had hummed to life. I was trapped inside, my screams swallowed by the insulated walls. At first, I could hear voices outside. I pounded on the door, begging them to let me out, but the guards were unmoved. “The Chairman said you’re to stay in there and reflect, sir. Please don’t make this difficult for us.” “No! Please, you don’t understand! The freezer’s on! Somebody, help me!” But the voices faded. They were gone. In the beginning, I tried to stay calm, searching for any possible way out. But as the temperature plummeted, my thoughts became sluggish, my body driven by a primal need to survive. I ran in circles, trying to generate some warmth, my breath pluming in the frigid air. Eventually, my legs gave out. I couldn’t even run anymore. A deep, numbing cold had seeped into my bones. I collapsed in a corner, curling into a ball, a futile attempt to preserve what little heat I had left. The unit used to store frozen seafood, and though the products were gone, the metal shelves remained. I dragged them, one by one, stacking them around me like a pathetic barricade against the encroaching frost. It was useless. The moment I realized I was going to die, my heart froze long before my body did. The first time I saw my own corpse, the shock was visceral. There I was, in the corner, covered in a thick layer of frost, my eyes wide with a silent, eternal despair. The door and walls were covered in the scratches from my fingernails, my fingertips bloody and raw. I tried to move closer, but an invisible force yanked me away, and suddenly, I was standing right beside Seraphina. Hearing her cold dismissal now, I could only laugh. Seraphina, I’m reflecting with my life. And in the next one, I pray I never have to see you again. I stood there, a silent observer, as Seraphina and Clark shared a look. He showed her his phone. “Seraphina, I got us tickets to the art exhibit. Will you come with me tomorrow?” “Of course. It’s getting late, you should get some rest.” But Clark clung to her hand. “I’m scared of the dark. Stay with me.” With a sigh of resignation, Seraphina stood up. I had forgotten. Clark was living in my house. The moment he returned from overseas, his first call was to Seraphina. He’d used the excuse of being unfamiliar with the city after being away for so long and asked to stay with us. What a joke. He grew up here. Five years abroad and he was a stranger in his own hometown? When I’d objected, Seraphina had shot me an impatient look. “Alex, his parents aren’t in town. Do you know how dangerous it is for him to live alone?” I knew. Because before we were married, I had lived alone in a rented apartment. And back then, Seraphina had said to me, “Alex, we need to respect ourselves. I don’t want to live together before we’re married.” The hypocrisy was breathtaking. Seraphina led Clark to the master bedroom. My bedroom. But when Clark arrived, he’d commented on how much he liked the light in that room, and just like that, Seraphina gave it to him. I watched coldly as she walked him to the door. Just as he was about to leave, a flash of lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. He shrieked and threw himself into Seraphina’s arms. Her body stiffened for a moment, but Clark just held on tighter. “Seraphina, I’m so scared. Can you please stay with me?” Her hand rested on his back for a moment before she gave him a gentle pat. “Okay.” In that instant, I felt like the world’s biggest fool. Because I’m scared of thunderstorms, too. I remember one night when I was living alone, a massive storm hit. The power went out, and I was terrified, the darkness punctuated by violent flashes of light. I called her, hoping for a few words of comfort. And what did Seraphina say? “How old are you, still scared of thunder? Alex, are you even a man? Stop using these tricks to get my attention. You’re a grown-up, so act like it, okay?” She hung up. I spent that entire night wrapped in a blanket, the only light coming from my phone’s flashlight, until I finally fell asleep at dawn. Looking back, I was so pathetic. Seraphina never cared. It always felt like there was a wall between us. I gave a bitter laugh. Even as a ghost, the sound of thunder sent a tremor of fear through me. I hugged myself, wanting to leave, but I was bound here, forced to watch as Seraphina held Clark, murmuring words of comfort. And Clark, nestled in her arms, shot a look over her shoulder—a look of sharp, triumphant victory. I sighed. To Seraphina, Clark would always be the one that got away, the ghost of her perfect past. What was I compared to that? I shook my head, glancing outside. Even in death, the fear was real. Thankfully, the storm passed after an hour, and Seraphina left his room. As her footsteps faded, Clark smirked, whispering to himself, “Seraphina, you’ll always be mine. No one can ever take you from me.” I was stunned. After all this time, he was still obsessed with her. Then why did he leave her in the first place? And Seraphina… if she could never forget him, why did she marry me? Back in her own room, Seraphina did something unusual. She opened her phone and stared at a picture of me. “Alex,” she murmured, “I hope you’re learning your lesson. Just say you’re sorry, just give in, and I’ll let you out.” I looked at her face and wanted to laugh. Give in? Apologize? For what? I didn’t lock Clark in his office! But Seraphina wouldn’t listen to a word of my explanation. Because Clark, with his perfect victim act, had told her he didn’t blame me—which, to her, was definitive proof of my guilt. She locked me in a freezer, killed me, and now she wanted me to say I was sorry? Hilarious. Seraphina was a smart woman; you don’t become the CEO of a major corporation by being an idiot. But when it came to Clark, she was deaf and blind. The next morning, one of the guards, looking deeply uneasy, came to report to her. “Ma’am, maybe we should let him out. We haven’t heard a single sound from the unit. That one bowl of water won’t last him five days.” Seraphina hesitated for a second, then her voice hardened. “He’ll be fine for ten days without food. Since he’s so determined to be stubborn, let him be. I want to see just how long he can hold out.” “But… but there’s no noise at all. We’re worried. What if he…” “Don’t worry,” she cut in. “Alex is an expert at playing the victim.” With that single sentence, she sealed my fate. The guard said no more. Just then, Clark walked in. Hearing her words, a small smile touched his lips. “Seraphina, let it go. It’s been days. I’m perfectly fine now.” “No. He locked you in that office for hours. He deserves to be punished.” Clark’s smile widened, though his words were laced with false concern. “Seraphina, isn’t this going too far? He is your husband, after all.” He sighed dramatically. “It’s my fault, really… for being a bother and making him jealous. Just let him go.” Every word was perfectly crafted. On the surface, he was defending me, but each sentence hammered another nail into my coffin. And Seraphina bought every bit of it. “Clark, you’re just too soft-hearted. Fine. For your sake, I’ll give him one more chance.” Clark’s face froze. That clearly wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “What’s wrong?” Seraphina asked, noticing his expression. “Nothing… it’s just, he’s been in there for days. Maybe we should bring a doctor along, just in case.” Clark, being thoughtful? I highly doubted it. But he had a point. Bring a doctor to confirm my death. Less trouble for him later. I can’t wait for you to find out the truth, Seraphina. I want to see the look on your face when you realize I’m dead. She took a deep breath, her hand finding Clark’s. “If only he were half as considerate as you.” “Seraphina, he’s still your husband.” Her eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions. I sneered. I never wanted to compete with Clark for anything. Husband? The title was a fucking joke. Even if this whole “reflection” farce hadn’t happened, I was already planning to divorce her. I was done. Seraphina’s face darkened, her voice becoming absolute. “Forget it. You don’t need to defend him. Alex is all talk and drama! It’s always ‘this hurts’ or ‘that hurts,’ or ‘I didn’t do it.’ I’ve seen right through him! None of you are to plead for him! Unless he apologizes, he’s not coming out!” Clark seemed to let out a silent breath of relief. He stood quietly to the side. I was just… stunned. So that’s what you really think of me, Seraphina. A sharp pain, like a shard of ice, pierced my chest. But then I remembered. I was already dead. None of it mattered anymore. Finally, seven days after she’d locked me in, Seraphina remembered me. She led a group of people to the cold storage unit. The guards at the door were trembling. “Ma’am.” “Still not willing to give in?” “Ma’am, no. We’ve called out to him, but… there’s been no response. Not a sound.” One of them swallowed hard. “Sir… you don’t think something’s happened, do you?” Seraphina scoffed. “What could happen? He’s just being dramatic. Open the door. I want to hear him apologize to my face.” Clark’s lips curved into a smirk. The guards moved to unlock the heavy door. When they finally swung it open, they froze, their faces draining of all color. From behind them, Seraphina’s impatient voice rang out. “Well? Get him out here!” “Ma’am… M-Ma’am, the freezer… I think the freezer was on!” Seraphina strode forward. “On? Are you trying to make excuses and shift the blame?” She reached the doorway. A wave of arctic air billowed out, so cold it felt like it could freeze the soul. Her face went white. “Alex! Don’t think turning on the freezer will make me forgive you! Get the hell out here right now!” Silence. All around her, people just stared at each other, horrified. Enraged, Seraphina hesitated, then commanded in a cold voice, “Get him. Bring him out to me!” A few guards cautiously entered. When they saw the frozen figure huddled behind the metal shelves, a collective gasp of terror escaped them. “Sir… Sir’s frozen to death!”

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My mom forbade me from touching cats my whole life—I was deathly allergic to their fur, she said. I only learned they’d lied at twenty. A fire broke out at the city museum, and I rescued a celebrity actress’s pet cat. I wasn’t allergic at all. Before I could confront my parents, the actress called the cops and had me arrested. “My cat had a camera,” she announced. “The ‘rescuer’ is the one who burned the museum.” My parents rushed over, and my mom slapped me in front of everyone, calling me a shameless arsonist. My best friend stood with them, claiming she’d seen me set the museum curtains on fire. I was fined 800 million dollars and sentenced to twenty years in prison. The day I was locked up, my parents sent a disownment letter via a guard: “We told you not to touch cats—why didn’t you listen? From today, we sever all ties. You’re no longer our daughter.” In prison, I tried to appeal but was brutally beaten. Inmates shattered my arms and legs, leaving me bleeding on the cold floor. My parents had paid them to do it. As I died, one agonizing question burned: Why? Why did saving a cat make my own parents conspire with strangers to kill me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the museum— the fire had just started. … “Fire! Everybody, run!” I stood in the familiar grand hall of the museum, watching the flames lick their way across the priceless exhibits. Screams and the crash of falling objects echoed around me. “Meow!” A desperate cry from the corner of the gallery sent an involuntary shiver down my spine, a phantom chill from a death I still remembered. It hit me then. I was reborn. In my last life, this was the moment it all went wrong. The fire, the cat’s cry, the surge of compassion that sealed my fate. I had ignored the lifelong warnings about my “allergy” and rushed to save it. Only to discover the allergy was a lie. When my parents found out I’d rescued a cat from the museum, they were incandescent with a rage I couldn’t comprehend. My mother’s hand had cracked across my face in public. “I told you never to touch cats! Why won’t you ever listen?” “Mom, Dad, all I did was save a life! What’s wrong with that?” I’d pleaded, bewildered. “It would have burned to death if I hadn’t helped!” But they were unforgiving. They threw me out of the house. And that was only the beginning. Three days after the fire, the cat’s owner, the A-list actress Cassandra Rayne, held a press conference. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at my image on the screen. “The person who ‘rescued’ my cat is the arsonist,” she announced, her voice trembling with manufactured grief. “My cat’s collar has a micro-camera. It recorded the entire thing. She set the fire and then pretended to be a hero to cover her tracks!” I denied everything, screamed my innocence, but no one believed me. My parents ignored my desperate calls for help. When I needed them most, they took the witness stand and lied. “Your Honor,” my father said, his face a mask of sorrow, “our daughter has always had a fascination with fire. When she was ten, she nearly burned our house down playing with matches.” “This museum fire… it must have been her.” My best friend, Stella, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with tears, delivered the final blow. “I saw her… I saw her light the curtain with a lighter.” Her words froze my heart solid. Then, the lighter I kept in a drawer at home was handed over by my parents to the prosecution, presented as evidence I’d left at the scene. Witnesses, evidence—it was a perfect, airtight trap. For arson and the destruction of national treasures, I was sentenced to twenty years and fined an impossible eight hundred million dollars. On my first day in prison, a guard handed me an envelope. Inside was the letter of disownment from my parents. Their words were blades of ice. “We told you not to touch cats! This is what you get for your disobedience. You brought this on yourself. From now on, you are no longer our child.” I clutched the letter, tears streaming down my face, and screamed at the guards. “I was framed! Let me out! I want to appeal! I didn’t do it!” I screamed until my throat bled, but no one listened. A group of inmates, annoyed by the noise, waited until the guards were gone. They pinned me to the floor. A hand clamped over my mouth, and fists and feet rained down on me. The sickening crunch of bone was lost beneath the dull thud of their blows. They broke my arms and legs and left me there. As I lay dying, the woman who led the attack leaned down and grinned. “Don’t blame us,” she whispered. “Blame your parents. A million dollars is a lot of money to pay for your death.” My last breath was a silent, agonizing question: Why? “Meow!” Another cry, sharper this time, pulled me from the bloody haze of memory. The flames were now crawling towards the corner where a pure white cat cowered beneath a charred display case. Its amber eyes were fixed on me. Last time, that look had been my undoing. This time, I would not make the same mistake. I met its gaze, and my heart turned to stone. Don’t blame me, I thought. You’re on your own, little one. Without a second’s hesitation, I turned and ran for the exit. I burst through the museum doors, out of the thick, choking smoke, and gasped for air, my lungs burning. The relief of survival was a violent tremor that shook my entire body. My parents saw me and rushed over, their faces pale with panic. They grabbed my arms, their grips bruisingly tight. “Mia!” My mother’s voice trembled with a relief so profound it sounded like fear. “Are you okay?” I straightened up, forcing a casual tone as I brushed the soot from my clothes. “I’m fine, Mom. But just as I was getting out, I saw a cat in the corner. It looked terrified. It wasn’t moving.” The air went still. I saw it clearly—the sudden, sharp contraction of their pupils. My father’s hand tightened on my arm, the pressure excruciating. I paused, then softened my voice. “But I remembered what you always told me. That I’m allergic to cats, that I should never, ever touch them. The fire was getting so bad… I was afraid if I had an allergic reaction, I wouldn’t be able to escape. So I left it.” My parents stared at me, their eyes like searchlights scanning my body. When they were certain there wasn’t a single cat hair on me, the tension finally drained from their shoulders. “Good,” my father said, his voice shaky. “That’s good. As long as you didn’t touch it…” My mother pulled me into another fierce hug, the frantic energy that had radiated from her slowly subsiding. Just then, my best friend, Stella, stumbled out of the smoke, her face smudged with ash. She saw me and threw herself into my arms. “You scared me to death! Mia, I’m so glad you’re okay!” I hugged her back, relief washing over me. See? As long as I didn’t save the cat, everything would be fine. But just as that thought crossed my mind, a piercing cry cut through the chaos. “Snowball! My Snowball is still in there!” It was the actress, Cassandra Rayne. She tried to run back into the burning building, screaming, but was held back by security. The firefighters were still battling the blaze, thick black smoke billowing from the museum’s entrance. My heart sank. A short while later, a firefighter emerged from the smoke, his expression grim. He was carrying something small. He walked over to Cassandra, who was sobbing so hard she could barely stand, and slowly opened his hands. The white cat I had seen in the corner now lay limp and still on the firefighter’s thick, protective glove. Its once-pristine fur was blackened with soot. There was no sign of life. “No!” A gut-wrenching scream tore from Cassandra’s throat. She lunged forward and snatched the small body, cradling it to her chest. “Snowball! Open your eyes! Look at Mommy! It’s all my fault, I never should have brought you here!” It was a heartbreaking scene. I turned away, forcing myself not to look. This had nothing to do with me anymore. I took my parents’ and Stella’s hands, ready to leave this place of tragedy behind. But in the next second, Cassandra’s crying stopped. She snapped her head up, her red, swollen eyes locking onto me. “It was her! She’s the one who killed my Snowball!” she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger. “Officer, arrest her! She’s the murderer!” My body went rigid. I turned back, my mind reeling in disbelief. Last life, I saved the cat, and she accused me of arson. This life, I didn’t save the cat, and she’s still accusing me. Why? My mother immediately stepped in front of me. “What are you talking about? My daughter just escaped that fire! How could she have killed your cat?” My father’s voice was low with suppressed rage. “We’re very sorry for your loss, but it was an accident. It has nothing to do with our daughter.” Cassandra let out a cold, humorless laugh. “An accident?” She pulled out her phone, shoved the screen in my parents’ faces, her voice trembling with fury. “You call this an accident? Look at this!” A terrible premonition crawled up my spine. I watched as my parents’ expressions shifted from anger to confusion, and then, as they saw what was on the screen, to sheer horror. They looked back and forth between the phone and me, and finally, their faces settled into a familiar, crushing disappointment. “Dad? Mom?” My voice shook. “I swear, I didn’t do anything…” My mother’s composure finally shattered. She threw the phone at my feet, her voice breaking with a sob of rage. “How could we have raised a monster like you? See for yourself!” On the screen, a video was playing. When I saw it, my blood ran cold. The micro-camera on the cat’s collar had recorded everything. The background was the corner of the burning gallery. And I was standing in front of the cowering white cat. But the ‘me’ on the screen wore a smile I’d never seen on my own face—a twisted, predatory grin. I watched in horror as this version of me grabbed the trembling cat and viciously yanked it up by its tail. I watched myself kick its small, terrified body. A pained “Meow!” screeched from the phone’s speaker. The ‘me’ in the video was unfazed, watching as if it were entertainment. Finally, when the kitten was limp and barely moving, my video doppelgänger looked directly into the camera and sneered. “You’re on your own, little one.” Then, she threw the nearly dead animal deep into the flames and ran out of frame. The video was short, but it was enough to send me to hell. “No!” I screamed, my voice cracking with terror. “That’s not me! It’s not! When I saw the cat, it was fine! I never even touched it!” Stella, who had been frantic when the police grabbed me, now stared at the video. Her expression morphed into one of utter disgust. She recoiled from me as if I were diseased. “Mia… you… you tortured a cat?” Her voice trembled. “I can’t believe you’re that kind of person. How could you? It’s monstrous!” I looked at her, my last hope crumbling. “Stella! You don’t believe me either? We’re best friends! You were with me the whole time! Tell me, when did I ever leave your side to do… to do that?” She shook her head, but her voice was firm. “How would I know? Maybe you slipped away when I wasn’t looking. The video is right there, Mia. The cat is dead. The proof is right in front of my eyes. What am I supposed to believe?” I couldn’t speak. My mind was a roaring, chaotic mess. How could this have happened? I remembered turning and leaving. Was the smoke so thick I’d hallucinated? Or had something else taken control of my body in a moment of panic? I couldn’t understand. I had done everything I could to avoid my previous fate, yet the noose had still found its way around my neck. Cassandra handed the cat’s body to a police officer, her face a mask of tragic beauty. She turned to the growing crowd of reporters and onlookers. “Did you see?” she cried. “My Snowball didn’t burn to death! She was tortured to death by this evil woman! She tried to throw the body in the fire to destroy the evidence! Thank God the camera recorded everything! Please,” she begged, “you have to get justice for my baby!” The crowd erupted. The murmurs of speculation turned into a tidal wave of outrage and insults that crashed over me. “She looks so normal, but she’s a monster!” “Torturing a cat in the middle of a fire? She’s a psychopath!” “The evidence is right there, and she’s still denying it?” “Lock her up and throw away the key! People like that don’t deserve to live!” “Scum! Monster!” Suddenly, several enraged animal activists broke through the crowd and one of them kicked me hard in the side. I fell to the ground, pain flaring in my ribs. Before I could even try to get up— CRACK! A stinging slap across my face. My mother stood over me, her eyes as cold as a winter grave. “After what you’ve done, you don’t deserve to be my daughter.” My father didn’t help me. He pinned my shoulders to the ground, holding me in place for the mob. They didn’t protect me from the false accusations, from the fists and the feet. They joined the strangers in pushing me towards the abyss. Why? Why was this happening?

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