1 The night Julian Thorne brought his adopted sister home, she padded to our bedroom door. The white nightgown she was wearing was dangerously short. “Julian? I’m scared… I can’t sleep alone.” Julian sighed, got out of our bed, and gently told me to go to sleep. I sat alone in the dark for a long time. Then I called a dozen male models from Ford and told them the party was at my house. … The music and laughter are what finally lured Julian from her room. “Out.” His voice was quiet, but it sent an icy chill down everyone’s spine. The models scattered. The living room was suddenly empty, save for the two of us. “What is this, Cassia?” Julian asked, his brow furrowed. Behind him, Zoe was still wearing that ridiculous white lace thing, her hair loose, looking like a victim. I leaned back on the sofa, crossed my legs, and sipped my champagne. “Your sister was scared. I just called some people to keep her company.” Zoe’s face went pale. “What do you think I am?” I smiled, my voice sweet and sharp. “A shameless little tramp who hits on her own brother?” Julian’s face went cold. “Cassia.” Zoe’s eyes filled with tears, her body shaking with rage. “Who are you to talk? Everyone knows what you were! A slut! If it wasn’t for our families’ engagement, my brother would never have married a woman like you!” “Zoe, that’s enough!” She recoiled, tears streaming. “You’re yelling at me? For her? Didn’t you hear how she insulted me? Fine! I’ll leave! I’ll just go!” She made a dramatic, sobbing dash for the front door, the tiny nightgown practically falling off her. Julian, exasperated, caught her, scooped her up, and carried her back to her room. When he returned, he looked exhausted. “Go to bed, Cassia.” I just stared at him, cold. “I’m tired,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m exhausted. Can we please not do this?” “Did you hear what your sister called me?” “Zoe’s young, she says things she doesn’t mean. I’ll apologize on her behalf.” I laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “She’s not wrong. Our families are well-matched. A merger. An arranged marriage. And I was a party girl, Julian. I never had a shortage of men. Especially beautiful men.” His jaw tightened. He crossed the room, pushed me back against the sofa, and gave me a hard, punishing kiss. His voice was a low growl. “Cassia, need I remind you that you are my wife?” I smiled, but my eyes were burning. “And need I remind you who it was that dragged me out of clubs, night after night? Who insisted on being my ‘fiancé’ when I didn’t want one? Who was it that begged and pleaded to marry me?” He softened, resting his forehead against mine. “It was me. It was always me.” I pushed him away. “Julian,” I said, my voice flat, “it’s her or me. Tomorrow, she’s gone.” I slammed the bedroom door. The next morning, Zoe was at the breakfast table, wearing Julian’s shirt, happily greeting me. “Hi, ‘sister!’ Good morning!” I froze. The bottom dropped out of my world. 2 Julian, who hadn’t set foot in our kitchen in the three years we’d been married, was standing at the stove. In an apron. Making soup. “Cassia, you have to try this! Julian’s fish bisque is the best. Anytime I’m upset, he makes it for me, and it fixes everything!” Yesterday she called me a slut. Today she was bragging about how he took care of her. Julian just looked over, as if nothing was wrong. “You’re up. Come sit.” Did he think I was joking? Or had he already made his choice? I took a deep breath, fighting the nausea and rage, and called my new assistant. “Alex, I need breakfast. A black coffee and a croissant. My desk. Nine AM.” I turned and walked out. I heard Zoe’s complaint behind me. “I was being nice, and she’s still pouting! Whatever. More for me. You made it for me anyway, right, Julian?” On the way to the office, I called my brother. “I want a divorce.” “Are you kidding me?” “No.” “Did… Julian agree? He fought like hell to marry you, Cassia…” “His opinion doesn’t matter,” I snapped. “I’m divorcing him.” “Okay. Give me a month. I’ll get the paperwork started.” I threw my phone on the passenger seat and stared at the trees flashing by. This morning, I decided. I’m done, Julian. You and your sister can have each other. After the morning meeting, Julian’s assistant, Scott, delivered a massive bouquet of my favorite yellow roses. I glanced at them and handed the vase to my new assistant. “Here. For your desk.” Julian, who was waiting in my office, saw the whole thing. I didn’t care. I pulled my black card from my wallet and tucked it into Alex’s shirt pocket. “The breakfast was perfect. A reward.” Alex just smiled and took it. “Thank you, boss.” Julian watched him leave, his face impassive. Then he cornered me, pressing me against my desk. “You know exactly how to make me angry. Is this your revenge?” 3 “Please,” I sneered. “If I wanted revenge, I’d have given him a key to my penthouse, not a credit card.” Julian’s face softened into a sigh. “I skipped my entire morning agenda to see you. Are you still mad?” He pulled me into his arms. “Cassia, what are you even mad about?” I almost laughed. I’d been furious for twelve hours, and he didn’t even know why. I held up my phone. It was a friend request from Zoe. The profile picture was new. It was her, this morning, still wearing his shirt, posing playfully in a field of yellow roses. “The breakfast,” I said, my voice dead. “You made it for her. We’ve been married three years, and you’ve never even boiled water for me.” “The flowers. You sent me one bouquet. You gave her an entire garden.” He was silent for a moment. “If that’s what this is about, I can cook for you tonight. I can send you…” “Stop it!” I shouted. “Don’t you get it? She is crossing a line, Julian! And you’re letting her!” He looked baffled. “Cassia, what are you talking about? She’s just my sister.” “I’m a sister!” I shot back. “I don’t prance around my brother’s house in lingerie. I don’t crawl into his bed at twenty-something years old. And I sure as hell don’t leave bite marks on his collarbone.” He flinched, his hand instinctively going to his neck. “Last night. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?” He actually looked amused. “She’s always been like that. She bites. Like a puppy.” “I don’t want to hear it,” I snapped. “You forget, she’s not your blood sister.” He stiffened. “No, she’s not. But don’t imply something so disgusting.” “Get out.” But he just smiled, a slow, infuriating smile. He leaned in. “Cassia. It’s been a long time since you were jealous.” “I’ll tell her to watch herself. Don’t be mad. Please?” He knew exactly how to calm me down. I was about to say something when his phone rang. Zoe. 4 He glanced at the screen, sighed, and sent the call to voicemail. He took my hand. “I’ll call my parents. I’ll have her move back home.” His lips brushed my ear. “Come home early. What do you want for dinner? This time, I’ll make it just for you.” I suddenly remembered him, years ago, dragging me out of a club, his face a mask of anger. But he never yelled. He just held my face, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. “Cassia, what do I have to do? Just tell me.” I softened. “Okay, Julian. I’ll trust you. One more time.” I squeezed his hand. “But if you lie to me… I will never, ever forgive you.” He smiled, kissing my eyelids. “Cassia, I have never lied to you.” … When I got home that night, Julian wasn’t back. Zoe was on the sofa, radiating anger. “Why didn’t you accept my friend request?” I ignored her. “Is there a reason?” “What did you say to him?” she shrieked, blocking my path. “Why is he making me leave?” I didn’t want to engage. But she suddenly grabbed a vase and threw it at me. It shattered against my temple. The pain was blinding. I felt glass and rose thorns scrape my face and arms. Just as I stumbled, the front door opened. Zoe grabbed a jagged piece of glass and held it to her own wrist. “I was just trying to apologize!” she screamed at me, tears streaming. “Why do you hate me so much? Is this what you want? Do I have to die to make you happy?” Julian’s eyes widened in horror. “Zoe!” “Brother…” she sobbed, “I know I’m the extra one. I won’t get in the way of your happiness. I won’t…” Blood welled up. Julian’s face went white. He’d never looked so terrified. “Don’t be stupid! I’m taking you to the hospital!” He swept her into his arms. He didn’t even look at me. Panic seized me. “Julian! She’s faking! She did this to herself!” He was already out the door. I slid down the wall, my legs giving out. My heart felt like it had been cut, too.

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1 The day the invitations for my wedding to Grayson Thorne went out, his childhood “best friend” flew in from London. Sienna wasn’t just his friend; she was the orphan his parents had informally adopted, his shadow. And she demanded a “pre-marital test.” “A girl like you, an orphan? You’re obviously just a gold digger,” she announced at brunch. “You’ll have to pass a one-month trial. Only then will our ‘family’ give you our blessing.” Under Grayson’s silent agreement, his clique of trust-fund brats began their hazing. On a ski trip in Aspen, a bucket of ice water was “accidentally” dumped on me from a balcony. In the sub-zero weather, I ended up with a fever so high I had convulsions. A week later, a “prank” involving faulty wiring nearly set my room on fire. Their “tests” were relentless. “She’s an orphan,” I overheard one of them say. “It’s not like she has anyone to defend her.” Then, Sienna stole the case containing my family’s medals. She was blatant. “Want them back? I’m sure you can buy them. Or maybe not. My dog does need a new collar.” … Two days before the wedding, I was walking down the grand staircase at the Thorne estate. I hit a patch of clear cooking oil, my foot shot out, and I tumbled head-over-heels down two flights of marble stairs. My ribs screamed. Every breath was agony. I dragged myself up, my arm throbbing. Nearby, a few of the house staff were covering their mouths, snickering. “God, did you see her? Miss Sienna got her again.” “She’s tough, though. Most girls would have run by now.” Sienna’s bright, cruel voice drifted in from the foyer. “A gutter rat trying to be a queen? She’s not going to give up that easily.” She was flanked by her friends, all of them looking impeccable. I was a mess of bruises and torn clothes. “I still don’t get what Gray sees in her,” one guy said, looking me over. “Sienna’s been right there his whole life. Why pick… that?” “She’s an orphan, she can’t help his family. It must be a fetish. Or maybe she’s just really good in bed?” A wave of laughter. I ignored them, trying to check if my wrist was broken. A voice cut through the haze, and my hand froze. “Elara, my friends are here for the party. What happened to the house? There’s oil all over the floor. You’re supposed to be the future Mrs. Thorne. You can’t even manage a simple party?” I looked up. Grayson was home. He was yanking at his tie, annoyed, until he finally saw the gash on my forehead. “God, what now? How did you get hurt again?” He started toward me, but Sienna grabbed his sleeve. “Gray, we agreed. The trial isn’t over until the rehearsal dinner.” She shot me a mocking look. “Miss Peyton. You keep saying you love Gray for him, not his money. You have to prove to us that we can trust you with him.” One of her friends chimed in. “Sienna’s right. If you back out over a few little scratches, you’re just a gold digger.” Grayson stopped. He hesitated. That single moment of hesitation was a bullet to my heart. I didn’t want this stupid “trial.” He was the one who’d begged me. “Elara, baby, my mother is still convinced you’re not right for us. Just… play along. Show her you’re committed. When it’s over, she’ll have to accept you.” I loved him. I’d loved him for seven years. So, believing the “trial” was just a few silly pranks, I’d agreed. I never imagined Sienna would be this vicious. 2 I slowly pulled up my pant leg and my sleeve, showing the landscape of fresh bruises and cuts. “This one,” I said, my voice shaking, “is from when Sienna insisted we go riding. She fed my horse a stimulant. It threw me, and I sprained my ankle.” “Last week, on the yacht? She ‘tripped’ and pushed me overboard. In the middle of the sound.” “The night before that, she…” The room went quiet. Grayson’s face was unreadable. Sienna and her friends just watched me, amused, as if I were a bug under a microscope. I finished with the oil on the stairs. “Gray,” I whispered, exhausted. “I’m done. I don’t want to be tested anymore.” “If you trust me, we’ll get married. If you don’t, then we…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Sienna’s hand cracked across my face. “You bitch,” she sneered. “How dare you try to turn him against us.” I tasted blood. I looked at Grayson. My heart didn’t just sink. It shattered. The man who once had a panic attack when I cut my finger on a wine glass just sighed and rubbed his temples. “Elara,” he said, his voice strained. “You’re going to be the lady of this house. You have to have a thicker skin than this.” He didn’t defend me. He just motioned for his friends to follow him to the patio. He left me with one last remark. “My status, and yours… there’s a huge gap. You have to be willing to sacrifice a little to fit in here.” His attitude was my death sentence. When he protected me, they treated me like royalty. When he abandoned me, I was their chew toy. “Look at the way she walks,” one of them laughed. “You can just imagine…” “No wonder Gray’s been obsessed for seven years. She’s probably a freak.” I turned to leave, but the next comment stopped me cold. “Like mother, like daughter. I bet her whole family was trash. Jailbirds and hookers.” A string inside me snapped. I’ve been an orphan my whole life, I know how to take a hit. But my grandfather was a decorated Vietnam vet. My grandmother was a trailblazing NASA engineer who died saving her team’s research. My parents were decorated police officers, killed in a bust that took down the city’s biggest cartel. They were heroes. I didn’t even think. I just lunged and punched the man who said it. He yelped, and I hit him again. Grayson ran back in, pulling me off the guy. I was a wreck, shaking, my face wet with tears. “He insulted my family, Gray!” I cried, grabbing his shirt. “He insulted my parents. Make him apologize!” This was it. This was the moment I needed him. The man who loved me, the powerful man who could make it right. He looked at me, his face tight with anger. “Elara, stop. You’re acting like you’re from the gutter. You can’t just attack my friends. If my mother hears about this, it will set us back months.” It was like being doused in ice. The love I’d seen in his eyes for seven years… was gone. Replaced by… embarrassment. Fine. A man like that? I didn’t want him. I looked at Sienna and gave her a weak, bloody smile. “You win. The trial is over. And so is the wedding.” Grayson’s face went white. He grabbed my arm. “Elara, don’t say that. You’re not joking about this.” Sienna laughed. “She’s bluffing, Gray. Don’t fall for it.” “Yeah,” another said. “She’s a nobody. She’s not leaving you. Where would she even go?” Grayson’s tense shoulders relaxed. He believed them. He tried to pat my head, like a dog. “The wedding is in two days. My grandmother is even sending the Thorne Emeralds from the vault. Go upstairs and rest. We’ll try them on this afternoon.” I was too tired to argue. I just pulled my arm free and walked away. “She’s just being dramatic,” I heard one of them say. “She’ll be fine by dinner.” I pulled out my phone. “Dr. Wells? About that surgical fellowship in Zurich… I’ll take it.” “Elara! Wonderful!” he boomed. “You have the best hands I’ve ever seen. You were born for this!” 3 I didn’t have much to pack. I left the engagement ring on his desk. Downstairs, the butler stopped me. “Ms. Peyton.” He was polite, but his eyes were cold. “A gift from Mrs. Thorne, Senior. She requests you receive it.” He was holding a carved wooden box, but it was strange. It was sealed, with just a single hole at the top, like a lottery drum. “Please return it. The wedding is off.” The household staff blocked my path. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, miss. My instructions are to ensure you ‘receive’ it.” Fine. I’d give it to Grayson later. I stuck my hand in the hole. A searing, electric pain shot up my arm. I screamed and yanked my hand back. The box fell, and a swarm of angry hornets boiled out, flying straight at my face. I grabbed a pillow, but they were relentless. Sienna was leaning against the doorway, watching. “Oh, by the way,” she called out, “that salve I gave you for your cuts? It’s infused with honey.” I was being stung, over and over, on my face, my neck, my hands. Grayson burst in, his face a mask of terror. He ripped off his suit jacket and threw it over my head, smothering the insects. … I woke up in a hospital. A Thorne-owned hospital. I heard voices. “Gray, it’s not our fault. She agreed to the trial.” “It was just hornets. I even had the doctor mix a mild paralytic into her salve. The venom… it’s just a temporary neurotoxin. In an hour, her hands will be too shaky to hold a scalpel. Ever.” “You always said you wanted her to be a stay-at-home wife. This just… helps.” My blood ran cold. My hands. I fumbled for my phone, knocking a plastic cup over. “Elara? You’re awake.” Grayson rushed in. “Are you in pain?” I grabbed his wrist. “Gray, I heard them. Call a real doctor. My hands. Please, they’re going to ruin my hands. Please!” He knew what my career meant to me. He knew my hands were my life. He looked at my desperate, pleading face. And he said nothing. He just looked away. “Elara,” he said, his voice flat. “You misheard. Your hands are fine. You don’t need surgery.” The lie, combined with the growing numbness in my fingers, made me frantic. I tried to get out of bed. “I need… I need to call 911.” Sienna appeared and planted her high heel hard on my injured hand. I screamed. “Who are you going to call, little orphan?” she sneered. “In this city, no one helps you. Not when the Thornes are involved.” “Why?” I sobbed, the tears and the venom and the betrayal mixing into one agonizing wave. “I told you I loved him! I passed your tests! Why are you still doing this? Why are you destroying my hands?” Grayson just watched, his face impassive. “Elara, it’s just a job. Is being my wife so bad?” He turned and spoke to the guards at the door. “Don’t let her leave.” He was locking me in. He was letting this happen. The light in my world went out. The most twisted part? As he left, I heard his friend ask, “Why don’t you just dump her and marry Sienna?” And Grayson’s voice, firm and resolute. “Never. My mother may not like her, but I will only ever marry Elara. I love her, and she loves me. It’s forever.” No, Grayson, I thought, as the feeling left my fingers. It’s over. 4 The numbness was turning into a deep, burning ache. I crawled for my phone and opened my photos. A picture of a yellowed page from a notebook. A list of names and numbers. My grandfather’s voice: “Elara, I’m an old man. If you’re ever in real trouble, call these numbers. These men… they owe me their lives. They’ll protect you.” I knew the names. Political kingmakers. Media moguls. And one at the top: Augustus Blackwood. The patriarch of the city. My grandfather never called them. We were poor, but he was proud. He wouldn’t use his honor as a debt to be collected. How could I? I let the phone fall from my numb hand. … When they finally let me “go home,” a doctor gave me the news. “The nerve damage… it’s extensive. You’ll be able to live a normal life, but… I’m sorry, Ms. Peyton. You’ll never operate again.” I was walking to my room when a cloth was pressed over my face. I woke up briefly, confused. Sienna was holding my hand, pressing my thumb onto an inkpad, then onto a document. When I fully woke up, my bags were gone. My phone buzzed. A text from Sienna. An address. “Want your cheap medals back? Come and get them.” My family’s medals. The last thing I had. My hand was useless, my career was gone, I had no money, no power. I looked at my phone. I dialed the number.

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1 Three years after my partner was killed in action, I saw him at a wedding. He was the groom. The bride was Jenna, the rookie intern I’d trained myself. She was hanging on his arm, beaming. “Chloe, isn’t it wild? I literally pulled him out of that cartel dump down in Sonora. I heard some psycho ex was stalking him, too, almost blew his whole op. Isn’t it crazy? Talk about fate!” Jenna kept talking, but the sound warped, fading to a dull buzz. Three years. Over a thousand days. The man I’d torn the world apart looking for—the one whose body I never found—was marrying my protégé. “Chloe?” Jenna leaned in, her smile faltering into concern. “You look white as a sheet. Are you okay?” I yanked my arm away from her touch. My whole body was shaking. I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp bite barely registering, just trying to anchor myself, to stop from doing something violent. Three years. I’d put my whole goddamn life on the line. I’d walked through gunfire on the border, crawled through cartel tunnels full of God knows what, and dug through mass graves in the desert, praying I wouldn’t find his face. His own family had given up. They held a funeral. But I kept going. I had one rule: See the body. Jack. Agent Jack Riley. The best the Bureau had. My partner. My Jack. Three years ago, a joint-ops takedown across the border. The target’s meth lab went up in a fireball. The after-action report was six cold words: Agent Jack Riley. Presumed dead. No remains. I never believed it. And now… now he was here. In a tux. Waiting to marry her. “Chloe, you gotta let him go,” Jenna was saying, her voice soft with pity. “It’s in the past. Look at me, I found Jack. You just need to move on, find a nice guy…” Her words died as the dressing room door opened. It was him. The air in the room evaporated. He was in a perfectly tailored tux, his shoulders as broad as I remembered. He was exactly the same. Except his eyes. The eyes that used to see only me… they just scanned over me like I was part of the furniture. He walked straight to Jenna. His hands, hands I knew better than my own, gently adjusted her veil. His groomsmen—our old team, our brothers—trailed in behind him. Mark, Chris, the whole crew. They saw me. They flinched. Their eyes darted away. That universal “oh shit, we are so fucked” look. If I had any lingering, insane hope—amnesia, maybe?—their faces killed it. He didn’t forget. He just didn’t want me. “Honey,” Jenna cooed, “tell Mark and the guys not to get too wasted before the reception, okay? We need to party tonight!” She shot a conspiratorial wink at me. Jack just grunted, “Sure.” His eyes never left Jenna’s face. Not one more glance for me. Like we were never anything. I felt the air leave my lungs. I stumbled into the adjoining bathroom, my back hitting the cool tile as I slid to the floor. The pain was physical, a giant hand crushing my chest. “Jack…” I choked out the name, the word burning my throat. “You son of a bitch… how could you?” 2 I heard Mark’s muffled voice outside the door. “Jack, man… are you sure about this? Chloe… she’s…” Jack’s voice was like gravel. Cold. “She’s a loose end, Mark. She was getting in the way. Mission’s over, you cut all ties. You need me to teach you that?” A loose end. The wedding started. Jenna, probably thinking I was a basket case, had someone else take my spot as a bridesmaid. I found a dark corner in the back of the reception hall, hidden by a potted plant. I watched him kneel. I watched him slide the ring on her finger. A white-hot rage ripped through me. I wanted to scream. To run up there, tackle her, shake him until his teeth rattled. I wanted to ask him where the hell he’d been for three years. Ask them all why they’d let me grieve like a fool. But I didn’t. I just sat there. And when the officiant said, “You may kiss the bride,” I started clapping. I clapped so hard my hands stung. So loud that the people at the tables near me turned to look. Jack’s head snapped up. His eyes, dark and unreadable, found mine in the shadows. I smiled. A huge, grotesque, skull-baring smile. The tears were streaming down my face, hot and furious. I saw his pupils dilate. Just for a second. Then… nothing. He looked away, back to his bride, and kissed her. My fingers were numb, but I pulled out my phone. I don’t wish you happiness, Jack. I wish you a lifetime of wanting what you can’t have. I wish you agony. The ‘Delivered’ notification pinged. It felt stupid. He had what he wanted. I left before the toasts. If I stayed, I was going to use my service weapon. About a year ago… the last, faintest trail on him went cold in that border town. I’d gone back to our old stash pad—the one that still smelled like him and stale coffee. I looked in the cracked bathroom mirror and I took out my blade. It was the old beat cop downstairs, the nosy one, who found me. Busted the door down. I woke up in the anemic light of a hospital room. Captain Miller, my old boss, was holding my hand, his eyes red. “Chloe, you have to live for him. You have to live to put away every last one of those scumbags he was hunting.” Live for him? In a world without Jack… it was just dark. We were childhood sweethearts. We’d come up through Quantico together. We were partners. We were us. The transfer to a desk job was already approved. We were going to get married. And then… that op. That explosion. I’d been a ghost, haunting the border. Shaking down cartel runners, C.I.s… anyone who might have seen something. They all said the same thing. “He’s gone, jefa.” Now he was back. In a tux. With her. 3 I woke up to my phone vibrating violently on the nightstand. Jenna. A dozen missed calls. A voicemail from Captain Miller. “Chloe. Come back. The squad needs you.” And then, a new message. From Jack. One word. Vanish. I stared at it. Vanish. Not ‘I’m sorry.’ Not ‘It’s complicated.’ Just… Vanish. I started to laugh. A raw, ugly sound that tore out of my chest. All that agony… all that love… and this is what it boiled down to. My hand went to the charm on my chest. A rough, hand-carved wooden thing. It was cracked, but I never took it off. He gave it to me the night before that last op. Climbed my fire escape, smelling like the night air. “Got this for you,” he’d said, his ears red. “From a little milagro shop in Juárez. It’s blessed. Keeps you safe. Don’t take it off.” I found out later the shop was deep in cartel-held territory. He’d almost gotten himself shot, just for this… this piece of wood he’d heard would ‘tie two souls together.’ My eyes burned. I ripped the leather cord over my head. I walked to the window and threw the damn thing into the dumpster four floors below. “Fuck you, Jack. From now on, you’re on your own.” I cried until I was empty. Then I called Captain Miller. “Cap. I’m coming in. Requesting full active duty. Frontline.” “You sure, Chloe?” “Yeah. I’m sure. I’ll tie up my cold cases here. My flight is booked. Seven days.” It was the day we’d first met at the academy. A good day to end it. I spent that week in a haze. Went to the office, signed papers. Ignored my phone. Flight mode. On the seventh day, at noon, someone was pounding on my door. It was Jenna. And Jack, standing behind her like a shadow. “Chloe! You’re alive!” She tried to hug me, but I stepped back. “You scared me to death! Not answering your phone… I thought you’d… you know…” She glanced meaningfully at my wrist. “I’m fine.” My voice was flat. “We’re here to kidnap you! It’s your birthday! Did you forget?” she chirped. “We’re throwing you a huge surprise party! All the new guys from the task force will be there. Cute, single guys! No excuses!” She was so bright. So… sunny. Of course he’d fall for her. I looked past her. At him. His eyes were frozen. Glaciers. A total stranger. I don’t know why… I just… stepped aside. Let them in. This was our old stash pad. Two-bedroom, standard-issue government crap. After he ‘died,’ I couldn’t leave. I’d kept it just how he liked it. Minimalist. Cold. Jenna wrinkled her nose. “Whoa, Chloe. This place is… intense. It’s like a command center. No… vibe, you know?” “My ex liked it this way,” I said, my voice soft. “We lived here together. I just… kept it.” 4 “God, you were such a pushover!” Jenna scoffed. “You have to stand up for yourself! When Jack and I moved in, I picked everything. I told him he had to sleep on the pink bedsheets, he sleeps on the pink bedsheets!” I bit back a bitter laugh. I’d bought a pink duvet once. He’d slept on the floor for three nights until I took it back and exchanged it for the charcoal gray one. “Really?” I looked straight at Jack, my voice devoid of emotion. “He… sleeps on the floor?” “He wouldn’t dare!” Jenna laughed. “I even buy him pink boxers now!” I saw a muscle in Jack’s jaw jump. “See?” Jenna said, turning to me. “That’s what a man does when he loves you. That other guy, the one who made you sleep on gray sheets? Good riddance. You wasted all that time looking for him… what a waste. Total asshole.” I was quiet for a second. Then I nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” I looked at Jack. “He… he probably just didn’t love me enough.” The second I said it, his eyes burned into me. A look of pure, unadulterated fury. He finally spoke. His voice was like gravel. “Since you understand that, Agent, maybe you should have the self-respect to back off. Stop interfering in other people’s lives. And just… disappear.” He paused, and the cruelty was so sharp it took my breath away. “Your… self-pity is just… revolting.” Revolting? All that time… all that risk… was ‘revolting’? My voice was shaking. “You know all about that, don’t you? Disappearing. Making people live in hell. And then you just… wipe it all away? My last three years… were they a joke to you? I just wanted the truth! Was it all a lie?” He actually got angry. “Nobody held a gun to your head! Nobody told you to wait! You made your choice, now you live with it! What, you think because you waited, I owe you? That I should have knelt down and married you?” It was brutal. It was final. There was nothing left. No love, no friendship. Nothing. He was right. It was my choice. And this was the consequence. I just stood there, my blood turning to ice. Jenna saw it was bad. “Jack, what the hell is wrong with you? You know she’s… Stop it!” She started pushing him toward the bedroom, her voice a harsh whisper. He laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Pathetic.” That one word shattered the last piece of my dignity. I was just a statue. A hollow shell. The bedroom door closed. I heard them arguing. Then Jenna came out, fixing her makeup. Jack walked right past me and out the front door. “Where’s he going?” I asked, my voice hoarse. Jenna was applying lipstick in her compact. “Oh, work. He’s got a ton of backlogged cases. He’s been officially back for over a year, you know.” My brain short-circuited. “A… a year?” “Yeah,” she said, snapping the compact shut. “He came back to finalize our wedding plans.” My world just… ended. He was back. Planning a wedding. While I was still in Mexico, digging in the dirt for his bones. “Jenna, you go ahead,” I heard myself say. “I… I just need to change. I’ll meet you there.” She bought it. “Okay, but hurry! The party’s for you!” The second her footsteps faded down the hall, I grabbed my phone. I dialed a number I hadn’t used in three years. “This is Shadow. Mission complete. Requesting extraction. I’m green for Operation Hummingbird. Request immediate meet.” A calm, male voice on the other end. “Shadow, confirm. Welcome home. Hummingbird is on-station and awaiting your arrival.” Tears finally came, hot and silent. “Good. Flight is tonight. I’m coming in.” I went to the back of my closet, pulled up the false bottom. My bug-out bag. My credentials. My Shadow service piece. I packed, and I walked out. I didn’t look back. At the airport, I blacklisted Jack, Jenna, Mark, everyone. I powered down my phone and dropped it in a trash can at the gate. As the plane took off, I watched the city lights disappear. “Goodbye, Jack.” This time, it was real.

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1 I returned to the world ten years after I died. I reappeared just in time to see Claire Ashton—the woman I loved—finally letting me go. She was marrying Sam, the assistant who had been by her side for years. My parents were in the front row, weeping with joy. My sister, Sarah, stood next to the groom, smiling, watching them exchange vows. And then I walked in. My arrival was a match thrown on gasoline. The joy evaporated. Claire, my Claire, let go of her new husband’s hand and lunged at me, her fingers digging into my wrist like claws. “Where have you been?” The ballroom erupted in whispers. The groom, Sam, humiliated, turned and ran. He bolted from the hall, right into the street. We heard the screech of tires and a sickening thud. The sudden shock was too much for my mother. She collapsed. My sister, Sarah, her eyes blazing, shoved me. Hard. “We were finally okay! We were healing! Why did you have to come back and destroy everything?” My fingertips tingled. I looked down. They didn’t seem to want me back. Not really. The clock in the grand hall chimed. I felt a strange lightness in my wrist. One of the three faint scars that had appeared there when I woke up… simply faded away. They were getting their wish. I only had two days left. … The EMTs were shouting, “Who’s family? We need family for the vic!” My parents and Sarah all shoved their hands in the air, “We are! We are!” They climbed into the ambulance without a single look back. I didn’t get it. Their son, their “lost” son, was standing right here, and they didn’t even… they weren’t happy. A shadow fell over me. Claire. Her face was an iron mask. Ten years had forged her into someone I barely recognized, someone who could lock down her emotions in a split second. Her eyes were flat, cold. “Get in the car.” She’s a billionaire now, the CEO of Ashton Enterprises, but she was still driving the old Cullinan I’d bought for her when I was 20. Habit took over. I reached for the passenger door. “Wait—” Claire’s voice was sharp. I stopped. The passenger seat was covered in tacky, cutesy stickers. A little plaque read, “Hubby’s Spot.” Tucked onto the dash was a photo of her and Sam, laughing. Claire. My Claire, who hated clutter, who was so territorial she’d once yelled at me for leaving a water bottle in her car… had let someone else leave his mark all over her space. I tried to smile. “Right.” I slid into the back. The silence in the car was suffocating. She’s probably trying to figure out how to get rid of me, I thought. I nervously picked at my cuticles. “Claire, you don’t have to… I know this is a lot. I’ll be gone soon.” The brakes shrieked. The Cullinan screeched to a halt, throwing me hard against the front seat. My head snapped back. I looked up, rubbing my forehead. Claire was staring at me in the rearview mirror, her calm expression fractured by a sudden, terrifying rage. “Julian,” she hissed, “do you even have a goddamn heart?” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Her phone buzzed, a frantic, jarring ring. She glanced at the screen and wrenched the car back into traffic, heading for the hospital. When we got there, Sarah was waiting, blocking the door to Sam’s room. “He’s not stable. You can’t go in.” I could hear my mom’s voice from inside, soft and cooing. “You need to rest, Sonny. Momma’s here.” Sonny. That was my nickname. Through the crack in the door, I saw my dad. He was sitting by the bed, hand-feeding Sam yellow Jell-O from a plastic cup. These were my things. My parents. My nickname. Sam saw Claire and his face lit up. Then, as if remembering, his expression crumpled. Claire went right to him, her hand brushing his. “The doctor said you’re going to be fine. A few bumps, that’s all.” Her voice was… gentle. A gentleness I hadn’t heard since I got back. “Jealous?” Sarah’s voice was like acid in my ear. “You have no idea, do you, Julian? You just… disappeared. Vanished. Not a call, not a text. Mom and Dad were wrecked! They thought you were dead! And Claire…” She jabbed a finger at me. “Claire nearly died looking for you. A car crash. She was in a coma for a year, and in a hospital bed for five. Sam was the one who sat by her bed. Sam was the one who came to our house every goddamn Sunday, who dragged Mom and Dad out of their grief. He put this family back together.” Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “And now you show up? Because you heard she was marrying someone else? You couldn’t stand that, could you?” Every word was a nail. I couldn’t breathe. “Sarah,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I didn’t… I didn’t go abroad.” “This whole time. These ten years… I… I’ve been dead.” 2 “Bullshit!” Sarah’s comeback was instant, but her eyes flickered. “Dead men don’t just… walk back in.” “Sam found it all! Your plane ticket to Brazil. The security footage of you at JFK! You left us!” I closed my eyes. A bitter laugh escaped me. “I booked the ticket. But I never got on the plane.” On the way to the airport… a tanker truck. It jackknifed on the BQE. I was right beside it. I was… vaporized. There was nothing left. The next thing I knew, I woke up, standing at the back of a church. Ten years later. To them, it was a decade. To me, it was a blink. I looked at my wrist. Only two scars left. Two days. I forced a smile. “Sarah… I was wrong. I’m sorry. Please. I just want to spend these last two days with you. With Mom and Dad. Please.” Before she could answer, Sam spotted me. “Mr. Vance…” He flinched, pulling his hand out of Claire’s. The movement was too sharp, and it ripped his IV out. Blood welled up on the back of his hand. And then, before I could even process it, Claire leaned down and… licked the blood from his skin. Sam’s ears turned bright red. I just… stared at my feet. My nose burned. Claire. My Claire, who had a borderline phobia of germs. Who used to make me wash my hands three times before I could even touch her. She just licked another man’s blood. “Sonny, you need to rest that leg,” Mom fussed, fluffing his pillow. I felt like a ghost. A complete stranger. “Mr. Vance… Julian… please, sit,” Sam said, his voice polite. On his hand, a massive, deep-green emerald ring flashed under the fluorescent lights. I felt the air rush out of me. The Ashton family ring. I remembered the night I turned 18. Claire, shivering on my doorstep, having waited hours in the cold just to give it to me. “Julian, I’m all in. I want this to be forever.” And I remembered the fight, when I was 22. “I’m not ready for this, Claire! I need to live my life!” I’d thrown the ring back at her. She’d cried. For the first time, she’d cried in front of me. “It will never be anyone else, Julian. Only you.” She lied. But… I couldn’t blame her. I sat down, my head spinning. “Julian.” Claire’s voice was cold, sharp. “You haven’t explained. Where were you?” My parents, Sarah… they all turned. Waiting. I couldn’t tell them the truth. It was too cruel. So I made something up. A story about amnesia, getting lost, finding my way back. It sounded weak. Pathetic. Dad snorted. “You should have just stayed lost. We were better off.” A direct hit. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke. They just… streamed down my face. A long silence. Then a sigh. “Oh, for… stop crying.” I looked up through the blur. My dad was holding something out to me. A little boat, carved out of an apple. Just like he used to make me. My heart hammered. I reached for it… But Sam’s hand shot out first. He grabbed it, took a huge bite, and smiled. “Thanks, Dad! It’s great!” I licked my lips. A long time passed. “So sweet,” I whispered. Claire, who had been watching this whole exchange, her face unreadable, suddenly spoke. “I’m not marrying him.” Sam froze, the apple halfway to his mouth. “I’m not marrying Sam. I… I always just saw him as a brother.” Dad exploded. “What? Claire, you can’t! He’s waited for you for ten years!” “No!” he roared, slamming his fist on the tray table. “You and Sam are getting married. Two days from now. That’s final!” 3 Claire didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were locked on me. Sam was looking at me, too. His eyes were wide, pleading. I clenched my fists. I was the one who left. I was the one who broke her heart. Sam was the one who’d stayed. I forced a smile. “She’s right, Julian. He’s waited so long. Don’t… don’t fail him.” Claire’s face went blank. “What right do you have to say that?” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “Who are you to me, Julian? Who the hell are you?” The air was so thick I could barely breathe. Sarah, finally, broke the tension. “Let’s just… let’s let Sam rest.” Everyone filed out. Everyone except Claire. I went back to the house I grew up in. It was the same, but my room… wasn’t my room. Mom wrung her hands. “It… it has the best light, and Sam was working from home so much… We just… I’m sorry, Julian.” “It’s fine,” I said, smiling. “The guest room is fine.” She looked at me, surprised. “You’re so… calm. You used to have such a temper.” She didn’t wait for an answer, already bustling off to the kitchen to make Sam her special bone broth. The swing set Dad and Sarah built for me in the backyard… it was a gazebo now. Sam’s “reading nook.” I stayed up all night, packing the few things of mine that were left in the guest room. Making space. Claire arrived early, just as I was zipping up the last duffel bag. Her face went ashen. “Where are you going?” She crossed the room in two strides, her hand clamping down on my arm. Her nails dug in. “Claire, you’re hurting me—” She pulled me into a hug, burying her face in my neck. Her whole body was shaking. “Julian… don’t. Don’t leave me again.” Her voice was a broken whisper. “It was… it was so bad, Jules. The last ten years… I wasn’t… I wasn’t okay.” My heart ached. I wanted to promise her, but I couldn’t. I looked at my wrist. One scar left. Tomorrow. “Cl-Claire?” Sam was standing in the doorway, leaning on a cane. He’d seen us. I gently pushed Claire away. I ran over to Sam, picked up the cane he’d dropped. His lip was trembling, his eyes filling with tears. And that’s when I saw it. Just below his collarbone, on his neck. A bright, angry-red hickey. My stomach dropped. They… they slept together. Last night. I forced myself to look away, to push down the bile in my throat. And in that second of distraction, it happened. A car, an SUV, came screeching around the corner, fishtailing, aiming right for Claire. Before I could even shout, Sam threw himself, cane and all, in front of her. “CLAIRE!” The tires shrieked. The SUV stopped, inches from them. Sam’s legs gave out, and he crumpled. Claire caught him, pulling him into her arms.

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1 Marcus Thorne’s mistress had twins. A boy and a girl. He was good at hiding them. But I was better at finding things. In a blind rage, I took the twins. I just… hid them away. To force me to tell him where, Marcus took our son, Leo, and tied him to a stone pillar on the south-facing terrace of our mansion. He left him there in the August heat for an entire afternoon. When I got there, Leo’s face was beet-red, his lips were cracked and white. He was barely conscious. “He’s your son!” I screamed, my voice tearing. “Marcus, isn’t he your son, too?” “And aren’t Sienna’s children my children?” he roared back, his face a mask of cold fury. “Eliza, I have always been fair to you. You and Leo have wanted for nothing. Why would you do this to her? Now give me back my son and daughter, or I will let him bake until he’s a husk.” He unclipped the stun gun from his belt and pressed it to Leo’s little leg. My son’s scream was a sound I will hear every night for the rest of my life. I broke. “The lake house!” I shrieked. “They’re at the lake house!” Marcus dropped Leo’s arm, turned, and strode to his helicopter without a backward glance. By the time he returned, it was too late. Our son, my Leo, was dead from acute dehydration and organ failure. … I held his limp body, all the way to the hospital. I knew he was gone, but I couldnli’t stop. In the ER, the doctor, a young woman with tired eyes, put a hand on my shoulder. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. He was… he was already gone. He was running a very high fever on top of the heatstroke. There was nothing we could do.” I couldn’t accept it. I just… howled. Yesterday, he was coloring in his dinosaur book. Today, he was gone. I only wanted to scare Marcus. I wanted to use the twins as leverage. I never, ever thought… I never thought he would trade our son’s life for theirs. The guilt was a physical weight, crushing my chest. I handled the arrangements. The… the cremation. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t move. I just lay in our bed, in Leo’s room, for three days. Then Marcus came home. He walked into the bedroom, his face hard. He didn’t ask where Leo was. He just… started in. “Eliza, do you know what you did? Because of you, the twins were terrified. They’ve had a fever for three days straight. They’re having nightmares. They are three years old. How could you be so cruel?” Three? My Leo was five. I just stared at him, my throat too raw to even form a word. “Sienna is a good woman. She’s willing to forgive you, for my sake. So this is the end of it. No more of this… this jealousy.” He paused, then pulled a small, brightly-colored box from his pocket. He set it on the nightstand. His voice actually softened. “Leo’s at kindergarten, I assume? Look, I… I had to scare you. I was never going to really hurt him. He’s a tough kid. He’ll be fine. “This is a new model train for him. Give it to him when he gets home. I have to get back to Sienna and the kids. I’ll see you later.” He left. I stared at the box. The train. He didn’t know. He hadn’t even noticed. My son was never coming home. A sound ripped out of me, something inhuman. I grabbed the little box and I threw it, and I threw it, and I threw it, until the wall was dented and the box was just… gone. 2 A week passed. I was a ghost in a house that was no longer mine. Then Marcus walked in the front door. With him was Sienna, and the twins. I met him at the base of the stairs. His face was set. “Eliza, since you’re incapable of acting like an adult, I’m done hiding. To… properly care for both my families, I’m moving Sienna and the children in. I expect you and Leo to make them feel welcome.” The sheer, staggering arrogance of it… it was almost funny. My son’s ashes were in an urn on my dresser, and this man was talking about a welcome party. “Marcus,” I said, my voice a dry rasp. “I want a divorce.” His face darkened instantly. “Don’t start this, Eliza. What, are you going to have another tantrum?” I was. When I first found out, I had screamed. I’d cried. I’d thrown things. I’d demanded he send that woman away, get rid of her… her bastards. I’d even… I’d taken them. And it had cost me my son. I would never “have a tantrum” again. “You have a family with her,” I said, my voice dead. “I’m… I’m letting you go.” “Letting me go?” He actually laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound. “Eliza, all my friends, the men we do business with… they all have families on the side. I’m just being honest about it. I’m not even asking you to share. “You are, and always will be, the Mrs. Thorne. Leo is, and always will be, my heir. He will inherit everything. You have your place. You should be grateful.” Grateful. I thought of the college kid I’d fallen for. The man who had sworn, at our wedding, that I was his only one. The man who had… who had tased his own son. Sienna, seeing her moment, put a hand on his arm. “Marcus, darling, maybe we should go. If Mrs. Thorne can’t… if we’re upsetting her…” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Marcus snapped, pulling her close. “This is my house. No one is chasing you out.” His eyes, cold and hard, dared me to contradict him. I just turned away. I saw the twins… a little boy and a little girl… reaching for the three ceramic figures on the console table. A father. A mother. A son. Leo’s favorite. We’d made them at a pottery class for his third birthday. Our family. “Don’t touch those!” I screamed. The twins yelped. The figures fell, shattering on the marble floor. Both children burst into tears. “Eliza!” Sienna was instantly at their side, her eyes flashing. “I can leave, but why would you yell at them? What did they ever do to you?” Marcus was faster. The slap was so hard my head snapped back, the sting bringing tears to my eyes. “Have you lost your mind?” he roared. “Can’t you have an ounce of compassion? They were preemies, Eliza! They’ve been through enough stress because of you. What if you scare them into a seizure?” 3 I didn’t hear him. I just… I fell to my knees. The broken porcelain. Our family. I clawed at the pieces, not caring as they sliced into my palms, my fingertips. Leo was gone. The dolls were broken. My… my home… The grief I’d been trying to swallow for a week just… exploded. I knelt there, bleeding on the floor, and just… broke. “God, what’s wrong with you?” Marcus said, disgusted. “It’s just some cheap pottery.” “Darling, she’s clearly upset,” Sienna murmured, pulling him away. “Let’s… let’s just go upstairs. Let her… have her moment.” He let her lead him away. I stayed there, on the floor, my hands bleeding, until the sky outside was dark. Then, I pulled out my phone. “911. What’s your emergency?” “I… I need to report a murder.” … I went to my room. I was so dizzy. I lay down for… I don’t know. An hour. Then I got up. I packed a suitcase. Clothes. Toiletries. And the small, heavy urn with the dinosaurs on it. I was in the hallway when she found me. Marcus was gone, so the mask was off. Sienna blocked my path, a lazy, triumphant smirk on her face. “Running away? You don’t have to. You could stay. I’m sure we could find a use for you. Maybe… as a nanny?” “Get out of my way.” I pushed her hand off my suitcase. I didn’t push her hard. But she stumbled back, her eyes wide, and then… just… threw herself to the ground. “Eliza, no! Please!” The timing was, of course, perfect. “What the hell are you doing to her?” Marcus was at the top of the stairs, his face thunderous. Sienna scrambled to his side, limping, clutching her arm. “Marcus, it’s my fault… I just… I bumped into her, and she…” “Your capacity for cruelty is just… endless, isn’t it?” he spat at me. “You have to hurt her, you have to hurt her children…” I was done. I just… I was done. I picked up my suitcase. He grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” “I’m leaving,” I said. “I’m going to a hotel. You… you can have your… your family.” His face contorted. “You don’t get to ‘leave.’ You don’t get to keep having these… these fits! You are acting like a child, and I’m sick of it. You think I’ll let you just walk out? Don’t make me… don’t make me get the ropes again! Don’t you dare make me tie up your son again!” I just froze. He’d… he’d threaten me with that? He must have seen the look on my face, because he suddenly frowned. “Wait… It’s Saturday. There’s no school. Where… where is Leo? You… did you hide him again? First her kids, now your own?” Leo? He… he was finally asking about Leo. And I… I just broke. “He’s… he’s…” I couldn’t say it. “He’s… he’s dead, Marcus! You… you killed him! You… you burned him alive!” “That is a monstrous thing to say!” he roared. “You can’t die from a sunburn! What is wrong with you? Cursing your own son… you are a… a vile mother!” I was sobbing, trying to get past him. He grabbed my suitcase, and it fell open. A small, official-looking paper fluttered out. “What’s this?” Sienna cooed, bending to pick it up. “Certificate of Cremation… Patient name… Leo… Thorne…” Marcus’s face went white.

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The day before our seven-year anniversary, I landed in Austin, ready to surprise my fiancé, Graham Prescott. After seven years of dating, this six-month leadership assignment was the last hurdle before our wedding. The last piece of his corporate “gilding” before he came home to New York for good. In the back of the rideshare, the driver, a talkative man with a thick Texas drawl, was giving me the rundown on the city. “You in town to see your fella, darlin’?” “Something like that,” I smiled. “Well, you picked a good time! Apex Holdings is throwin’ this massive ‘Austin in Love’ festival all week. Real romantic stuff, you know?” A sweet warmth spread through my chest. Apex was Graham’s company; he was the heir apparent. I nodded. “I’ve heard a little about it.” Suddenly, the driver pointed out the window. “Hey, look! That’s their big ad campaign. Features the golden boy himself, Graham Prescott, and his fiancée. Now that’s a power couple, huh?” I followed his finger. There, on a colossal digital billboard overlooking the highway, was Graham. He had a woman I’d never seen before wrapped in his arms, his mouth locked on hers in a passionate kiss that was anything but staged. Beneath the image, a single line of text burned into my retinas: AUSTIN IN LOVE: A MATCH MADE IN AUSTIN. I froze. It seemed my fiancé, in another city, also had a fiancée. I pulled out my phone and sent a single, terse message to my father. “Dad, pull the Apex investment.” 1 My phone buzzed. A message from Graham popped onto the screen. 【Hey, babe. Just finalized the design for the rings. This ‘Austin in Love’ launch is absolutely swamping me, so I can’t get away for our anniversary, I’m so sorry. I’ll be back in New York next week to make it up to you.】 He’d even attached a photo of the campaign’s event schedule, as if to prove his sincerity. A chill crept up my spine as my finger traced the edge of the screen. He was a phenomenal actor. The message was a masterclass in half-truths. The work was real. But so was the grand, city-wide romantic declaration he was orchestrating for another woman under the guise of that work. The car pulled up to the gleaming glass tower of the Apex Holdings Austin campus. As I stepped into the cavernous lobby, a wave of laughter echoed from the elevator bank. A group of impeccably dressed young women were fawning over a girl in the center of their circle, treating her like royalty. It was the girl from the billboard. Brielle. “Brielle, you’re just living a fairytale!” one of them gushed. “Seriously! To get Graham to announce your engagement with a campaign this huge… the entire city knows you’re his girl!” “And he’s the heir! We’re talking a nine-figure fortune, easy!” “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen! Graham Prescott has to be the most devoted man in Austin!” “You’re so lucky. You start as an intern and a few months later you’re engaged to the boss. What a dream come true.” “Total Cinderella story! When you’re Mrs. Prescott, you can’t forget about us, okay?” A smug, self-satisfied smile played on Brielle’s lips, though she made a show of waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, you guys. Graham just loves a grand gesture. Don’t worry, once we’re married, I’ll be sure to put in a good word for all of you.” She winked. “The Director of Sales position is still open, right? Lexi, I think you’d be perfect for it.” The woman named Lexi beamed. “Oh my god, Brielle, thank you! I knew you were a real one!” The chorus of sycophantic praise swelled again. I stood off to the side, watching them, a silent observer to my own life’s demolition. Graham was… adequate. My father had never been impressed with him. He saw him as mediocre, coasting on his family name. That’s why my dad and I had made a deal: a seven-year trial period. Seven years to see if Graham’s character was true. Of course, Graham’s cunning old fox of a father had run a background check on me the moment I’d joined Apex. He’d approved of our engagement, then conveniently named his underperforming son as the heir, securing my family’s backing. It was a neat, tidy transaction for everyone. A shame Graham couldn’t keep up the act until the final curtain. Ding. An elevator arrived. I stepped forward, but a hand shot out and shoved me hard. I stumbled, catching myself just before I fell. “Watch it, newbie. Got eyes in your head?” The woman who pushed me was Lexi, her face a mask of contempt as she looked me up and down. “Don’t you know Brielle gets the first elevator? Learn the rules.” I straightened up, my gaze cold. No one, in my entire life, had ever told me to get out of their way. “It’s a public elevator. I was here first. Why should I wait?” Lexi puffed up, ready to argue, but Brielle cut her off, striding over with an impatient sigh. “Which department are you with? What’s your name?” she demanded, her tone dripping with authority. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Graham Prescott’s fiancée. The future Mrs. Prescott. And for your little back-talk just now, I could have you fired.” “Could you?” I reached into my purse, pulled out my corporate ID, and let it swing from my fingers in front of her face. “Josephine Cole. Director of Strategic Partnerships, Apex NYC.” I leaned in slightly. “So, I’m curious. On what authority, exactly, were you planning to fire me?” Brielle’s face went blank. She snatched the ID from my hand, her eyes scanning the text. “Jo-se-phine… Cole…” Suddenly, her head snapped up. Her face twisted into a snarl, and without warning, she swung. CRACK. The sound of her palm connecting with my cheek echoed through the silent lobby. Brielle’s features were contorted with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at my face. “So you’re the bitch from New York,” she screamed. “You’re the psycho who’s been stalking my fiancé! You goddamn, shameless homewrecker! You actually followed him to Austin?” 2 The commotion drew a crowd. The lobby, once a quiet corporate thoroughfare, was now buzzing with whispers and stares. “Stalking Graham Prescott? Is she serious? She’s a director from the New York office, isn’t she?” “You never know. Looks can be deceiving.” Brielle’s voice rose, thick with indignation. “Of course it’s true! Graham’s told me everything!” She held her phone up like a trophy. “He said there was this girl from college, an old colleague, who thought that just because she was senior and closed a few big deals, she could force herself on him! He said he didn’t want to make a scene, so he put in for the transfer to Austin just to get away from her!” Her voice dripped with manufactured pity. “And this pathetic woman actually followed him all the way here! She’s obsessed!” Brielle angled her phone so a few people nearby could see the screen. “Look! These are messages from Graham himself!” 【Babe, Josephine used another deal to try and pressure me today. It’s driving me crazy.】 【She’s a top performer, so my dad loves her. Otherwise, I would’ve had her fired months ago.】 【She cornered me today with some bullshit about a quarterly report. If we weren’t at the office, I swear I would’ve lost it on her.】 【She’s a fucking psycho. I feel like she’s suffocating me.】 【Thank God I came to Austin and met you. You’re my salvation.】 【Babe, being with you is the only time I feel like I can breathe.】 Every word was a lie, a twisted inversion of our life together. Each one a dagger in my heart. He claimed I used my work to harass him. He claimed every day with me was a living hell. He claimed I was a disgusting, obsessive stalker he couldn’t shake. I joined Apex because he told me he’d found the perfect job for me, a place where we could be close. I didn’t mind starting at the bottom, working my way up. I pushed myself, shattered sales records, and became a top performer to prove to my father that my choice in a man was sound. My seven years of youth, of companionship, of devotion… In his narrative, it was nothing more than seven years of harassment. Seven years of me pathetically throwing myself at him. I was the punchline to a joke I never knew was being told. My hands clenched into fists, the blood rushing to my head. The crowd’s murmurs exploded into open condemnation. “Oh my God, so that’s the real story! Poor Graham!” “She looks so put-together, so professional. You’d never guess she was that shameless behind the scenes.” “What makes her think a man like Graham would ever be interested in her? She could chase him for a million years and it wouldn’t happen.” “Right? Our Brielle is beautiful, kind, from a good family. She and Graham are the perfect match!” “Quick, get a picture! Send it to the company group chat! Let everyone see what kind of trash the New York office sends over!” Phones were raised, cameras flashing, immortalizing my humiliation for group chats and gossip-hungry friends. Lexi, Brielle’s sycophant, sneered at me. “You hear that, stalker? Get the hell out!” “Apex doesn’t welcome degenerates like you!” My fists tightened, my nails digging into my palms, then slowly relaxed. “Are you finished?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “How do you know he’s telling the truth?” “Did he forget to mention that back in college, he was the one who begged me to be his girlfriend? That he stood outside my dorm with flowers for three months before I finally said yes?” 3 Brielle let out a sharp, derisive laugh. Her friends joined in, a chorus of mockery. “Graham chased you? Are you delusional?” She gestured dramatically towards the giant billboard outside. “Do you see that? The entire city of Austin knows that I, Brielle, am Graham’s fiancée. In what dream did he ever chase you? Should I call you an ambulance? Get you a psych evaluation?” The chatter from the onlookers grew louder, more pointed. “Yeah, delusions are a real illness. She needs help.” “And she’s a director from New York? Looks more like she escaped from a mental hospital.” Brielle’s smile faded, replaced by a cold hardness. “Graham is a good man. He’s too kind to put you in your place. But I’m not.” “Today,” she said, her voice low and menacing, “I’m going to teach you a lesson on his behalf, you shameless, pathetic woman.” Before the last word left her mouth, her hand was flying towards my face again. I was ready this time, sidestepping the blow. My evasion seemed to enrage her further. “You dare to dodge? Grab her!” Lexi and two others from Brielle’s posse lunged forward, seizing my arms in painful grips. I struggled, but another woman came from behind, twisting my arms behind my back and shoving me forward, holding me fast. “It’s broad daylight! You’re going to assault someone in the middle of a corporate lobby?” I spat. “What if I am?” Brielle stepped up to me, patting my cheek with a condescending rhythm. Her eyes gleamed with triumph. “I’m going to be Mrs. Graham Prescott. The queen of Apex. In Austin, if I want to teach someone a lesson, who’s going to stop me?” She savored my helplessness, her gaze raking over me before settling on my face. “This face… this is your biggest asset, isn’t it? The tool you use to seduce men?” Her lips curled into a cruel smile. “Today, I’m going to ruin it for you. Let’s see who you try to seduce after this.” CRACK! CRACK! Two slaps, hard and vicious, rocked my head back. My ears rang, a dizzying white noise filling my senses. My cheeks burned with a fiery pain, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I lifted my head, meeting her gaze with a burning intensity. “You will regret this.” Brielle laughed, a loud, ugly sound. She clutched her chest theatrically. “Regret it? Oh, I’m so scared. What’s a pathetic stalker that Graham threw away going to do to make me regret it? Seduce another man with that face you’re about to have rearranged? You’re a disgrace to women everywhere.” “She really is. Someone should just put her out of her misery,” Lexi added. The insults washed over me, a tide of venom. Just then, my phone began to ring from inside my jacket pocket. Brielle nodded at Lexi, who expertly fished the phone out and handed it over with a fawning smile. “It’s for you, Brielle.” Brielle glanced at the screen, a look of pure contempt on her face. “Oh, what’s this? Calling for backup?” She turned the screen towards me, her expression a mask of sadistic amusement. The caller ID showed a single, simple name. Dad. Brielle’s mocking smile widened. “Aww, is it your daddy? Does he know his precious little girl is out here acting like a common slut, throwing herself at engaged men?” I decided to bait the hook. “You shouldn’t answer that. You can’t afford the consequences.” “Ha!” she scoffed. “Not only am I going to answer it, I’m putting it on speaker. Let’s let your daddy hear what a worthless daughter he raised!”

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My father brought two retired officers back from the front lines to serve as personal guards for my sister and me. The younger one, a nimble lieutenant named Rhys, had eyes only for my sister from the moment he set foot in the General’s residence. The one assigned to me was his older brother, a captain once feared as “The Ghost of the Frontier.” His body was a roadmap of shrapnel scars. Nerve damage made his right hand tremble, and his left ear was nearly deaf. I couldn’t bear the thought of him being sent back to the battlefield, so broken and battered. I personally requested he stay. When his old wounds flared up, sending waves of agony through him, I dove into medical texts to find ways to ease his pain. I arranged for the best military physical therapists to see him every week, even though he never once met my gaze. When his right hand could no longer hold a pistol steady, I threw myself into firearms training, becoming a crack shot just so my father would have no reason to replace him. I always told myself his coldness was just a symptom of his trauma, a fortress of ice around his heart. I believed that if I was patient enough, my warmth could eventually thaw it. That delusion shattered during an ambush on a border support mission. He snatched the gun from my hands and tossed it to my sister. As enemy soldiers closed in on me, the only words he had for me were, “I’m sorry. Sera needs this more.” Seraphina Hayes. The illegitimate daughter my father brought home. As the blade pierced my chest, I heard him whisper, his voice a ghost in my ear. “What I owe you in this life, I’ll repay in the next.” So, his distance was never about trauma. It was a choice. He simply never wanted me close. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my father told us to choose our guards. 1 I studied the two brothers standing before me, saying nothing. Seraphina bit her lower lip, her gaze shifting timidly to me. “Aria, you have to inspect the troops so often. It would be much safer for you to have the more agile guard. Why don’t you take Rhys? Elias… he seems to be struggling physically. I can take care of him.” As she spoke, she took a half-step closer to Elias Blackwood. The stoic man’s back went rigid, a flicker of anxiety crossing his eyes. I remained silent, the fragmented memories of my rebirth slowly piecing themselves together. In my last life, it was after these exact words from Seraphina that I had hesitated. She had made the same sudden offer to give me Rhys, the more capable fighter. Watching her now, with that same look of cautious concern, acting as if her only thought was for my well-being, I remembered how I’d truly believed her. I thought she was protecting me from being burdened by the “problem” that was Elias. Like a fool, I refused. I didn’t want my newly arrived sister to feel slighted, nor could I stand the idea of sending the heavily scarred Elias back to the front to die in a blaze of cannon fire. It wasn’t until that final day, during the ambush, that I saw Seraphina for who she truly was. Her words had been, “Aria, you’ll be safer with the gun,” but when Elias handed it to her, she took it without a single moment of real hesitation. The man she had chosen, Rhys, was an elite soldier, more than capable of protecting her. She had the emergency beacon my father had given her hidden on her person. But after a few token protests, she accepted Elias’s protection as her due. She’d always been like this, banking on the fact that I couldn’t stand to see others in trouble because of me. She knew I would always be the one to back down. It allowed her to secure her own safety while maintaining her reputation as the sweet, considerate girl who always thought of the greater good. But this time, I spoke, my voice calm and even. “Fine. Rhys can stay with you.” The mask of concern on Seraphina’s face froze. She wasn’t the only one stunned. Beside her, the Blackwood brothers both snapped their heads up, their eyes wide with disbelief. “Insolence!” My father’s face darkened as he rounded on Seraphina. “Don’t be ridiculous! Aria is the sole heir to this family! Elias is half-crippled, he can barely hold a gun. How is he supposed to protect you?” A faint, imperceptible smile touched my lips. So my father knew the extent of Elias’s condition all along. This entire charade of a “choice” was nothing more than a performance for outsiders. However… Just as the tension in Seraphina’s shoulders began to ease, just as she was about to raise a hand to wipe away non-existent tears, the man who had been silent this whole time suddenly spoke. “I can protect Miss Caldwell.” My eyes shot up to his. The man who hadn’t said a single word to me in three years in my past life was now speaking with perfect clarity? As my gaze met his—bloodshot, yet shockingly clear—I knew with absolute certainty: He had come back with his memories, too. …No wonder he’d talked about repayment in the next life. His greatest fear, reborn, was still being chosen by me. Too bad for him, this time, I had no intention of choosing him at all. “If you doubt my combat ability, you can test me right now,” Elias continued, his tone unwavering. I never doubted his skill. In my final moments in my past life, my consciousness watched as he, to protect Seraphina, single-handedly tore through the entire enemy ambush force. The pistol in his left hand was steadier than anyone’s. How laughable. I had pushed myself to master firearms back then, terrified my father would send this “defective” soldier back to the front to be cannon fodder. Sure enough, the moment he dropped the pretense, it took him only three moves to pin my father’s own special forces instructor to the ground. My father’s expression softened. The glimmer of tears in Seraphina’s eyes vanished instantly. To be honest, Elias was far less charming than his brother. If it weren’t for his legendary reputation as “The Ghost of the Frontier,” she would have picked the handsome, clean-cut Rhys from the start. “In that case, Elias will go with you. As for Rhys, you will protect Miss Aria.” Hearing the final assignment, Rhys shot a look in my direction. When his eyes landed on my crisp military uniform, his brow furrowed in undisguised disdain. Suddenly, Rhys dropped to one knee. “General, I request permission to return to the Southwestern border zone.” My father’s face hardened. “A position as a personal guard isn’t good enough for you? You’d rather go back to dancing with death on the front lines?” Rhys pointedly turned his face away, avoiding my steady gaze. “My skills are insufficient, sir. I am not worthy of protecting Miss Caldwell’s life.” I lowered my eyes, a bitter smile on my lips. The disability I’d gotten at fifteen while shielding Seraphina had, in the end, become proof of my incompetence in the eyes of others. Elias’s cold distance in our past life… he must have seen me the same way. “Rhys! How could you speak to my sister like that!” Seraphina rushed to his side, pushing at his arm, her voice trembling. When Rhys looked up at her, his eyes were churning with an emotion he didn’t bother to hide. “I came back from the battlefield for one person, and one person only.” In the heavy silence of the room, a soft laugh escaped me. Seraphina quickly suppressed a rising smile, patting his hand in a mock reprimand. “Don’t be silly! I would never let you go back!” “Why make this so difficult?” I drawled, toying with the dog tag at my waist. “Sister, why don’t you just take both of them?” Seraphina’s cheeks flushed. “Aria… don’t say things like that.” The Blackwood brothers were undeniably handsome. From the moment they had walked into the living room, her gaze had never strayed from them. My father considered it for a moment. “Aria, are you sure?” “I’m sure. I don’t want either of them.” Both brothers stared at me now. Their expressions were a clear mix of confusion and disbelief, as if trying to figure out where I got the audacity to say such a thing. Elias’s gaze was particularly intense, layered with an emotion I couldn’t—and didn’t want to—decipher. “Then what about your security?” my father asked. “What else is there?” I replied calmly. He was clearly taken aback. “Actually, Father, why don’t you send me to the Rangers? There’s no shortage of protection there.” In my last life, I was so consumed with Elias that I missed crucial opportunities to solidify my family’s power within the military hierarchy. My situation and Seraphina’s were worlds apart. Father always said we were both his daughters, but the promotion recommendation lists sent from the troops only ever included Seraphina and my cousin. It was all because he saw me as limited by my old injury. It didn’t matter that I was the daughter of his lawfully wedded wife; he didn’t care. My cousin was a Major in the Rangers, a decorated officer. Every year, Seraphina reaped honorary awards based on his achievements. Meanwhile, I had to beg and plead with the logistics department just to get approval for Elias’s experimental medication. If I wanted to change my fate, I had to seize it with my own two hands. The Rangers didn’t think much of the General’s daughter who had “pulled strings” to get in. They dumped me in a logistics support company and washed their hands of me. I didn’t complain. I poured everything I had into training and tactical studies. The military aptitude I’d never shown in my past life now emerged with a force that surprised even me. After taking first place in the most difficult border infiltration exercise, the brigade commander promoted me personally. He held the enlistment ceremony that should have happened six months prior and gave me command of a reconnaissance platoon. The military was in a critical period of strengthening its forces. As much as he doted on Seraphina, he couldn’t afford to ignore my abilities now. Slowly, my reputation in the service began to rival Seraphina’s title as the “General’s Golden Girl.” One day, back at the family estate, Seraphina cornered me in the hallway. “Aria, don’t you think you’re being a little too conspicuous lately?” I raised an eyebrow. “You keep stealing the show in these exercises, spending all your time on the training grounds. I’m not trying to discourage you, sister, but your success is probably just a fluke. If you make a mistake one day, you’ll be embarrassing the whole family.” “Besides,” she added, her eyes flicking meaningfully towards Elias, “with your physical limitations, what officer would want to marry you if you keep carrying on like this?” “I think you should just quit messing around with the Rangers. In the future, I’ll just bring you along to these sorts of events.” I scoffed. “You’re just afraid I’ll outshine you, aren’t you?” Her pupils contracted. “Sister, in what capacity are you telling me to tone it down? As the General’s rightful heir, or as the youngest platoon leader in the Rangers?” “You seem to be enjoying all the benefits, so what right do you have to tell me to sit down and be quiet?” “Aria, how could you…” Her eyes instantly filled with tears. I watched her performance with cold detachment, cutting her off. “Since you brought up my injury, maybe we should talk about that ‘accident’ when I was fifteen?” “I risked my life to shield you from enemy fire. Who was it that gave me a final push?” “Leaving me with a permanent, debilitating injury?” Seraphina stumbled backward, her trembling fingers flying to her mouth. “Don’t put on that act. You weren’t the one who took the bullet.” “Go on, keep being the General’s Golden Girl.” I turned to leave. But she suddenly collapsed to the floor, her face tilted up to mine, tears streaming down her cheeks. “No, sister… I was just so scared…” “How could you think I would do something like that…” The crystalline tears splashed onto the stone tiles. “That’s enough!” Rhys strode forward, pulling her into his arms. “Miss Caldwell, that was completely out of line!” Seraphina quickly clutched his arm, shaking her head through her sobs. “Don’t… I’m really okay…” But her body continued to tremble. A flash of pain crossed Elias’s eyes. He looked directly at me. “You should apologize.” I almost laughed out loud. He waited stubbornly for my response. CRACK! The sound of my hand striking his cheek echoed in the hallway. Seraphina shrieked, throwing herself in front of him. “Aria! How could you hit him!” I slowly lowered my tingling hand. “Sister, you’d better get your men in line. They seem to have forgotten their place.” “You—” Rhys’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked. Elias touched his reddening cheek, his eyes filled with a shock I had never seen there before. I walked away without giving any of them a chance to speak. I had planned to pack my things and move into the barracks, to escape this viper pit for good. But in the early hours of the next morning, my door was hammered open. Rhys kicked his way in without a second thought. Before I could even react, he had violently dragged me out of bed. “Sera’s been kidnapped! You’re coming with me, now!” I moved instantly, pulling the pistol from under my pillow and pressing the cold barrel to his forehead. “Move again. I dare you.” “And what does her kidnapping have to do with me?” “You still have the nerve to deny it!” Rhys’s eyes were bloodshot; he’d clearly been up all night. “If you hadn’t said those cruel things to her yesterday, she never would have driven off in the middle of the night!” “Now the kidnappers have specifically demanded you in exchange for her. This is your mess to clean up!” The door burst open again, and Elias rushed in, his face pale. He scanned the room frantically. “Did you find her?” Rhys tightened his grip on my collar. “The kidnappers agreed to a trade.” “You caused this mess. You’ll be the one to fix it.” “You’re asking for it!” I slammed the butt of the pistol against his face. His brow split open, and blood streamed down his cheek. “A bodyguard. Do you really think you have the right to lay a hand on me?” The blow left Rhys dizzy, but his eyes only grew more ferocious. “My apologies for the offense, Miss Caldwell, but you don’t have a choice in this matter.” “For Sera’s sake, we will gladly accept any punishment!” he snarled, grabbing my wrist. “Elias! Restrain her!” My marksmanship could hold Rhys off, but once Elias moved, I had no chance. With a loud crash, I was slammed against the wall. The sight of Elias’s military boots filled my vision. I struggled with all my might, but I was no match for the two of them. I could only look up, a final, desperate plea in my eyes. “Elias… don’t do this… please…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. In the end, he just turned his head away. “I’m sorry.” Click. The sound of the magazine being removed from my pistol sealed my fate. I was completely subdued. On the way, Elias watched me himself. “You came back too,” he said suddenly. A mocking smile twisted my lips. “And yet, you’re still just as cruel to me.” He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was raw. “I owe you.” SLAP! I hit him again, hard. “Two lifetimes, and your apologies are still worthless.” His head snapped to the side. His hair fell across his face, hiding his expression. I only heard his low voice. “I swear, this is the last time.” He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I thought the bones would shatter. “This time, I’m trading you for her. Consider the debt from our last life paid.” “After this, I will protect you, even if it costs me my life.” I turned my face away and laughed coldly. His knuckles whitened as he squeezed harder, promising me, “It’s just an act for them. I will never let any real harm come to you.” The exchange point was an abandoned armory. In the moment I passed Seraphina, she suddenly stumbled forward. “Elias! Rhys!” My head whipped around. Elias was the first to react, rushing forward to catch her securely in his arms. Rhys deftly sliced through the ropes on her wrists. Elias’s arms were wrapped around her so tightly his fingertips were trembling. I could just make out the shape of his words as he murmured to her: “It was my fault… I let you suffer…” A strange, unfamiliar ache tightened in my chest. Even though I had told myself, again and again, not to hope for anything. The rough texture of a hemp rope digging into my skin broke my trance. Before I could make a sound, cold duct tape was slapped over my mouth. I’ve been locked in this dark, damp warehouse for three days and three nights. There isn’t an inch of my skin that isn’t covered in the ugly, weeping scars left by a branding iron. The leader of the kidnappers kicked over a metal drum in frustration. “Aren’t you the General’s precious daughter? How come it’s been three days and no one’s even called to negotiate? Are you even his kid?” I pulled at the corner of my bleeding lips. The family did have a precious daughter they cherished. It just wasn’t me. “Last chance.” The man brandished a syringe, stalking closer. “This drug will amplify your pain tenfold. Now, call your family.” “If they’re willing to pay the ransom, you’ll be spared some suffering.” “If they’re still not willing…” he hefted an axe with a sinister grin, “then I’ll start by chopping off that injured arm of yours and sending it to them!” “Wait! Don’t—” The moment the needle pierced my vein, every muscle in my body began to seize. “Dial!” A cold phone was shoved into my blood-caked hand. I scrolled and scrolled through the contact list. My father and cousin’s numbers went straight to voicemail. Seraphina declined the call immediately. Finally, my finger hovered over Elias’s name— “Hello?” “Elias!” My voice was a shredded rasp. “Bring the ransom! They drugged me, they’re going to cut off my arm!” The clinking of glasses and cheerful chatter echoed from the other end of the line. I froze. “Where are you?” “Miss Caldwell, it’s Sera’s welcome-home party tonight. Don’t cause trouble.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. “What did you say?” “Just hang on one more night. I’ll come get you tomorrow.” The kidnapper let out a derisive snort. My teeth began to chatter. “You promised… you promised you would protect me…” After a long silence, he said softly, “Stop playing games.” The line went dead. “Wait! Elias!!” I tried to redial, but all I got was a cold, busy signal.

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They crucified me on the Willow Creek community forum. I was the heartless landlady, the one with the outrageously overpriced apartments. What they failed to mention was that my building was all-inclusive. Utilities, gigabit internet, central air and heat—all of it. In the summer, you could run the AC at full blast 24/7. In the winter, it was warm enough to walk around in a t-shirt. The entire building’s group chat was buzzing about me. Even my cousin, Mark, who helps me manage the property, couldn’t take the heat. “Liv, maybe just drop the rent a little? It’d save us a lot of headaches.” I didn’t argue. I just opened the tenants’ group chat and posted a new announcement. [To address the recent concerns regarding rental prices, we will be implementing a rate adjustment.] [Effective next month, rent for all units will be reduced by $400 to align with the market rate. Concurrently, the all-inclusive utilities policy will be discontinued. Each unit will be responsible for its own utility bills.] The moment I hit send, the group chat exploded. 1 “Liv, what the hell did you just post?!” Mark’s frantic call came through immediately, his voice an octave higher than usual. “I told you to lower the rent, not cut off their life support! Do you have any idea the kind of hell they’re going to raise now?” I calmly scrolled through the 99+ notifications lighting up the tenants’ chat, a flood of jubilant messages. “Mark,” I said, my voice steady. “Just watch.” In the group chat, a user named Jenna was being hailed as a hero. She was the ringleader of this little rebellion. Jenna, a recent college grad, was the one who wrote the tear-jerking forum post painting me as a greedy monster. She was the one who started this “Tenant Justice League” group chat, strategizing daily on how to take down the “old-school landlady.” And now, she was savoring her victory. Jenna: [Sisters! Do you see this?! VICTORY! When we stand together, even the capitalists have to bow down!] A cascade of cheers followed. [Jenna, you’re a legend! Gen Z is shaking up the workplace, and you’re shaking up the landlords!] [LOL, an extra $400 a month! Think of all the new clothes I can buy!] [I knew it! She was just bluffing. We called her on it, and she folded!] [@Jenna We’re taking you out to dinner tonight! You’re our champion!] Jenna responded with a GIF of a queen waving, the digital embodiment of smugness. Jenna: [It was nothing! I just can’t stand to see people get taken advantage of. We have to fight for what’s rightfully ours!] A cold smile touched my lips as I read the messages. On the other end of the line, Mark was still panicking. “What are you thinking? You give in like this, and they’ll be walking all over you from now on!” “Mark,” I said again. “Just watch.” I hung up. Just then, my doorbell rang. I opened it to find Jenna flanked by two other girls, all of them beaming. She tilted her chin up at me. “Olivia, look, this wasn’t personal.” “We just wanted you to understand that times have changed. You have to be fair in business, listen to the people. See? If you’d just done this earlier, we could have avoided all this drama.” I leaned against the doorframe, my face a blank mask, and watched her performance. “So, you’re satisfied?” I asked. Jenna took my question as a sign of surrender, her smirk widening. “For now. I hope you’ll continue to be this… reasonable.” “Right.” I nodded, then signed my name on the addendum to the new lease agreement. The terms were simple: effective next month, the rent would be reduced by $400. “Here,” I said, handing her a thick stack of the documents. “One for everyone. I’ll need them back by tomorrow.” Jenna accepted the stack like a general receiving the enemy’s sword, then turned and strutted away, her victory complete. I watched her go, a small, knowing smile on my face, and closed the door. 2 The euphoria of their win spread through the building like a contagion. Tenants celebrated in the hallways, their faces glowing with the thrill of getting one over on me. They even threw a small victory party in the courtyard—beer, barbecue, the works. It was quite a scene. Jenna was at the center of it all, holding court like a queen. She raised her plastic cup of beer, her voice ringing out across the lawn. “This is just the first step! The fact that she lowered the rent proves she knew she was screwing us! Next, we make her replace all the crappy old appliances with brand-new ones!” The crowd roared with approval. Mike from 302, the same guy whose rent I’d waived for three months when he lost his job, was the loudest of all. He held up a kebab, shouting, “Jenna’s right! We can’t let that old hag get away with it!” I stood on my balcony, silently observing the absurd comedy unfolding below. The next day, everyone returned their signed addendums. Each of them wore a poorly concealed smirk, their eyes a mixture of pity and contempt. I collected the papers. “Since we’re all in agreement,” I said, “the new terms will take effect on the first of next month.” Jenna crossed her arms, her tone a challenge. “You’re not going to regret this, are you, Olivia?” “Don’t worry,” I said, my smile cryptic. “I never regret my decisions.” And they, in turn, wasted no time showing me the true meaning of the phrase, “give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile.” The trash in the hallways started piling up. Takeout containers and beer bottles were left by their doors, sometimes blocking the walkway entirely. The cleaning lady complained to me several times, saying they wouldn’t listen to a word she said. Late-night parties and gaming sessions became the norm. The bass thumped through the floors, rattling my walls and my sanity. A few times, I went down to ask them to keep it down. They’d offer a giggling, insincere apology, and the moment their door was closed, the music would get even louder, punctuated by mocking laughter. A couple of days later, it got worse. The private parking spots assigned to my building were suddenly filled with unfamiliar cars. Several were even blocking the fire lane. I called property management. They were just as frustrated. “Olivia, it’s your tenants. They’re selling access to their parking spots.” “They posted on the community forum that since their spots are often empty, they’re ‘sharing’ them with people who need them. For ten or twenty bucks a pop.” “We tried to talk to them, but they claim it’s their right. They even said you, the landlord, approved it.” I hung up, a laugh bubbling up that was pure rage. I own this building. The deed is in my name, which means the parking lot is mine. I provided the spots and the key cards for their convenience, free of charge. And now, they were subletting my property and pocketing the cash. I stormed downstairs just in time to see Mike waving a sedan into a spot, a crisp twenty-dollar bill in his hand. He saw me and didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. Instead, he puffed out his chest. “Hey, Olivia. These spots are just sitting here empty. I’m just helping you monetize your assets. A little management fee, you know? It’s a win-win.” “My parking spots,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “When did they become yours?” “Oh, come on, don’t be so stingy,” Jenna chimed in, strolling over. “You already gave in on the rent, don’t get hung up on a little perk like parking. We put in the work to get this community’s rules straightened out. We deserve a little something for our efforts, don’t you think? Call it a consulting fee.” They had completely reframed my retreat as their rightful conquest. I looked at their shameless, entitled faces and didn’t say another word. I just took out my phone and dialed the number for the local towing company. “Hello, I’m at the Willow Creek Residences, Building 3. There are over a dozen illegally parked vehicles here. I need them all towed immediately.” 3 The tow trucks were impressively efficient. Within thirty minutes, two massive flatbeds were maneuvering through the lot. Watching his customers—and his cash flow—being hauled away one by one, Mike flew into a rage and tried to block my path. “What are you doing?! You’re killing my business!” Jenna, followed by a small posse of tenants, surrounded me, their faces contorted with righteous indignation. “Olivia, you’ve gone too far! What, you lost on the rent so you’re taking it out on our parking? We were just fighting for what’s fair! This kind of petty revenge is just pathetic!” Their twisted logic was so astounding it was almost funny. “My parking spots, which you were using to make money, are now being cleared of unauthorized vehicles. And somehow, I’m the one in the wrong?” “What do you mean, your spots? We live here, so we have the right to use them!” “Yeah! If you’re going to take away our income, you have to compensate us somewhere else!” The commotion was drawing a crowd of neighbors, which only emboldened the tenants to shout louder. That afternoon, flush with their perceived power, they doubled down. Jenna and Mike, leading their little delegation, knocked on my door again. This time, they came bearing a printed list of demands. “Olivia,” Jenna said, arms crossed, chin held high. “We’ve decided to let the parking thing slide. But our quality of life needs to be addressed.” “We’ve all agreed that you need to replace every mattress in this building with memory foam, all the sofas with genuine leather, and all the TVs with 75-inch screens. Consider it compensation.” I stared at the absurd document. Before I could speak, Mike jumped in. “Look, Olivia, we know you’re a good person deep down, and it’s not like you’re hurting for money. Just think of it as a little bonus for us young people trying to make it in the world.” “You even waived my rent once,” he added, a smug look on his face. “Be good to us, and we’ll remember it.” He was using my past kindness as leverage, as a weapon to control me. The sight of his face then was more disgusting than any of the insults in the group chat. I looked at him, my expression unreadable. “So, this is what you’ve all decided?” “It’s the will of the people!” Jenna corrected. “It was a unanimous decision! And if you refuse, we have no problem letting the whole neighborhood weigh in on this!” Just then, my phone rang. It was the property manager. “Ms. Hayes, I have to inform you that we’ve received formal complaints from over ten other residents about the tenants in your building!” “The complaints include noise violations, improper trash disposal, obstruction of common areas, and blocking the fire lane! This is extremely serious! If you don’t rectify the situation immediately, we’ll be forced to report it to the city and issue you a substantial fine!” I took a deep breath. “I understand, Mr. Davis. I’ll handle it immediately.” I hung up, a white-hot rage surging through me. I took their list of demands and, right in front of their shocked faces, tore it into tiny pieces. “Get out.” “All of you, get out.” Mike’s face flushed a deep red. “You… What’s your attitude? You want to see what we can…?” “Do you want to see if I can have you evicted by sundown?” I cut him off, my voice dangerously low. “Don’t forget, I hold the leases. And I have the right to reclaim my property with proper notice.” My sudden shift in demeanor stunned them into silence. They exchanged uneasy glances, their blustering bravado gone. “Fine! You just wait!” Jenna spat, before turning and leading her defeated crew away. I shut the door, pulled out my phone, and began composing the email I’d already drafted in my head. It was to my lawyer. You want fairness? You want to shake things up? Fine. I’ll give you exactly what you asked for.

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Orientation week, day one. Ryder, the guy who’d been holding court since the moment he stepped into the dorm, proposed a trip to the new luxury retail complex downtown. An all-you-can-carry shopping spree, on him. La Mer sunscreen that cost more than a month’s rent, Dior bags, imported snacks from a gourmet market—all of it, his treat. The room erupted in cheers. I, however, quietly slipped my own black card into the military-grade safe under my bunk. I’d learned my lesson. In another life, Ryder’s phone had brushed against my card for a split second. In that instant, five million dollars vanished from my account. The exact amount our classmates had just spent. 1 When I confronted him, he filmed my desperate confusion and posted it online. “I don’t have your face ID, man. I don’t have your fingerprint. How could I spend your money?” he’d said to his phone’s camera, feigning innocence. Then, turning on the crocodile tears, “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone, a welcome gift, and this is how I’m repaid?” The clip went viral. The internet turned on me, a vicious, anonymous mob. I was cornered, with nowhere to go. The day I was finally going to the police, I took a sip of water. It was laced with something sharp, chemical. A seizure tore through me, and then, nothing. When I opened my eyes again, I was back here. Back on the day it all began, with Ryder proclaiming his magnificent generosity. “Alright everyone, listen up! Orientation is a grind, I get it. So I decided we all deserve a little something,” Ryder announced, his voice booming across the common room, no microphone needed. “We’re heading to the mall for some welcome gifts. My treat. Who’s in?” Looking at that same triumphant smirk, the full, gut-wrenching realization hit me. I was back. Reborn. The familiar words ignited a cold fire of hatred in my chest. At first, most of the other freshmen ignored him, skeptical of his vague promise of a “little something.” Then he cleared his throat and brandished a sleek, black credit card. “Think Louis Vuitton, everyone. Top-shelf sunscreen. And when we’re tired, I’ll treat you all to a day at the Aethelgard Wellness Retreat. How does that sound?” The Aethelgard was the most exclusive, most ridiculously expensive spa in the entire state. A single day pass cost $12,888. The room exploded. The change in tone was instant. People were practically fawning over him. “Holy shit, Ryder! You’re loaded. Dude, I’ll be your personal assistant for a day like that.” “A treat from the king himself? You couldn’t drag me away.” I watched the scene unfold, a bitter, knowing sneer playing on my lips. In my last life, I’d gone with them. They’d shopped like wild animals, each one racking up a bill of over a hundred thousand dollars. When it came time to pay, Ryder had made a show of patting his pockets, a look of panic on his face. He’d claimed his card was gone, and then his eyes landed on me. Every card has a unique number. To clear my name, I showed him mine. He just needed to see it wasn’t his. He’d glanced at it, then given it back, his face a mask of apology. “My bad, man. Guess I was mistaken.” Then, miraculously, he found his own card in another pocket and paid for everything. The moment the transaction went through, my phone buzzed. Five million dollars, gone. The exact total of everyone’s purchases. With no itemized receipt in my name, only a transaction record, there was nothing I could do. I was screwed. Still, I confronted him. He secretly recorded the entire thing, turning my frantic accusations into a viral video that painted me as an ungrateful lunatic. “I literally just glanced at your card, and you’re saying I stole from you?” he’d pleaded to his online audience. “Family, you be the judge. I buy this guy a hundred grand worth of stuff, and he turns around and accuses me of being a thief! Can you believe the nerve?” The others, bought and paid for, all backed his story. A guy who drops a hundred grand on each of his new classmates? The internet ate it up. They were drowning in jealousy. Ryder became a minor influencer overnight, a rich-kid icon, raking in donations and sponsorships. And me? Just as I was about to file a police report, I drank that bottle of water and my world went black. Ryder had then forged a purchase history for poison under my name, sealing the narrative that I’d killed myself out of shame. “Man, I was just telling the truth,” he’d said in a somber livestream, shaking his head. “I can’t believe he took it so hard. It’s all my fault. I never should have posted that video.” My soul, or whatever was left of it, had hovered there, watching his sickeningly fake performance. It was enough to make me gag. And Ashley, the girl I’d had a crush on for three years in high school, had thrown herself right into his arms. “It’s not your fault, Ryder,” she’d cooed. “Ethan was always so uptight and cheap. He got what he deserved.” Watching them together, my spectral teeth had ground to dust. Lost in the memory, I didn’t hear Ryder calling my name until a sharp slap on my back jolted me back to the present. “Ethan, you’re coming, right?” “Yeah, everyone’s going. If you don’t come, it’s like you’re dissing me, man,” Ashley chimed in, grabbing my arm. “Ethan, you were such a loner in high school. This is college now. Ryder is being genuinely nice to us. Just come!” I subtly pulled my arm away from her touch, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Of course, I’m coming.” How else was I going to watch him crash and burn? The debt from my last life? This time, he was going to pay it back. In blood. 2 That afternoon, I took a ride home. I placed the black card my parents had given me into a military-grade, biometric safe. The kind of thing that could take a stray bullet and not even dent. My iris was the only key. Cracking it would be harder than breaking into Fort Knox. Once the real card was secure, I took out the replica I’d had made. It was a perfect copy, visually indistinguishable from the real thing. But it was just a piece of plastic. It couldn’t withdraw a dime, couldn’t even accept a deposit. It was a dud. Just as I finished, my phone buzzed. It was Ryder, for the third time. “Ethan, where are you, man? Everyone’s waiting for you!” Then his voice dropped. “Ashley says if you don’t show, she’s done with you.” Hearing him use her first name so casually didn’t stir a single thing in me. Not anymore. In high school, I really had been hung up on Ashley for three years. I’d even applied to the same universities as her. But she’d never said yes, and never said no. A classic string-along. That’s why seeing her leap into Ryder’s arms in my past life was a sickening kind of clarity. She wasn’t unavailable; she was just fishing for the highest bidder. It was Ashley who had insisted I go on that shopping trip last time. I’d caved, wanting to be near her, and Ryder had used it to set his trap. That poisoned water? I later learned she had been the one to mix it, a twisted gesture to prove her loyalty to Ryder. A woman that hollow didn’t deserve a second thought. The frantic voice on the phone was still buzzing. I mumbled an affirmation and had my driver drop me at the mall. When Ryder saw the car, a sleek, custom Maybach, his eyes widened, a flash of pure greed in them. But he quickly masked it, throwing an arm over my shoulder like we were best buds. “There he is! We were about to send out a search party. Come on.” The other students, seeing me finally arrive, didn’t bother hiding their annoyance. “What took you so long, Ethan? Did you really have to make every single one of us wait?” “Who do you think you are, making us waste our time?” I scanned their faces impassively, my gaze finally landing on Ashley. Her pretty features were twisted into a look of impatience. “And you showed up in that? It looks like you got it from a thrift store. You could have at least tried.” I glanced down at my outfit, a simple athletic set. The t-shirt alone, a private commission from a top designer, was worth fifty thousand dollars. The fabric was a proprietary blend, cool and comfortable even in the sweltering late-summer heat. A contemptuous laugh escaped my lips. “You wouldn’t recognize quality if it slapped you in the face. This shirt alone could buy your life.” My words were sharp, and they hit their mark. Ashley’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Ryder stepped in, playing the peacemaker. “Hey, hey, come on. We’re all classmates here. No need for things to get ugly.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s go pick out some gifts! Anything under a hundred grand is fair game!” A chorus of cheers erupted. “Ryder, you’re the man!” “Yeah, not like some people who pretend to be rich but are just faking it. So pathetic.” I knew they were talking about me, but I just smiled as I watched them stampede into the designer stores. The show was just beginning. I was dying to see how Ryder would handle the final act without my money. 3 Ashley trailed behind Ryder, her voice syrupy sweet. “Is there anything you want, Ryder?” He feigned surprise, then gave her a lecherous grin. “Just having you here with me is the best gift I could ask for.” He took her hand, basking in the fawning attention of our classmates, his face flushed with triumph. Noticing I hadn’t moved, Ryder called out, “Ethan, get in there! Go pick something out. Don’t be shy.” His magnanimity, contrasted with my cold silence, was stark. Immediately, someone jumped to his defense. “Ethan! If you don’t want a gift, you didn’t have to come!” “Ryder’s being so generous, and you’re giving him this attitude? What an ungrateful jerk.” “Don’t think renting a fancy car makes you a somebody. You might have the attitude of a rich kid, but you sure don’t have the bank account.” As the insults grew louder, I paused, making a show of turning to leave. Ryder panicked. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly tight. “Guys, don’t talk to Ethan like that! He’s my friend.” His voice trembled slightly. He was clearly terrified. Terrified that his golden goose was about to walk away. But I wasn’t really leaving. If I left, I’d miss the grand finale. “Alright, Ryder. I’ll go pick something out then.” He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, man, go for it. Get whatever you want, seriously. Don’t hold back on my account.” I followed his suggestion and picked out a simple men’s backpack. A basic model I would never have considered in my real life. Most of the others had already made their selections. At Ryder’s urging, Ashley had chosen an entire set of diamond jewelry. The brilliant stones glittered under the showroom lights. I recognized it as the latest collection from Cartier. The whole set had to be at least a million dollars. Ryder didn’t even blink. “Get it,” he said, puffing out his chest. “If Ashley likes it, I’d buy her ten sets.” She rewarded him with a grateful kiss on the corner of his mouth. The surrounding students hooted and cheered. Even the sales associate was laying it on thick. “Mr. Ryder, you are truly generous. A million-dollar gift, just like that.” Someone from the crowd immediately piled on. “Yeah, I heard some guys chased Ashley for three years and never even bought her a ten-thousand-dollar gift. So cheap.” “Seriously. Broke guys should stay away from gorgeous women. He’s not even worthy of shining Ryder’s shoes.” Ashley shot me a look of pure, condescending victory. I just shrugged, completely unfazed. Finally, the shopping spree was over. When the sales associate brought over the card reader, Ryder’s face suddenly went pale. “My black card… it’s gone!” Everyone froze. Then, a frantic search began, with people dropping to the floor to look for the missing card. After several minutes of searching, they found nothing. Ashley looked worried. “Ryder, you don’t think someone… stole it, do you?” The moment she said the word “stole,” all eyes turned to me. Ryder put on a show of frustration, then looked at me with an expression of deep regret. “Ethan… you were the only one who bumped into me today. You didn’t… take my card, did you?” He pointed at my pocket. “I thought I saw a card in your pocket. Can I just see it?” I looked at him, a half-smile on my face. “Are you saying I stole your card?” I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? Do I look like I need the money?” He rubbed the back of his neck, feigning embarrassment. “I’m not saying you stole it. I just want to see it. Look, everyone’s gifts are already boxed up. We shouldn’t keep the staff waiting.” Seeing Ryder in a tight spot, a few of his new cronies stepped forward. “Just let us see the card, Ethan.” “It’s just a look, man. It’s not going to kill you. What, you think we’re going to scan your card and steal your money?” At the mention of scanning and stealing, Ryder’s expression flickered. “Yeah, Ethan, come on,” he urged, his voice tight. “Just let me see it for a second.” The moment had arrived. I slowly pulled the card from my pocket, pretending to be furious. “Fine! Look! See if this is your damn card.” I thrust it at him. He glanced at it for a fraction of a second before handing it back. His eyes were filled with apology, but a triumphant smirk was already forming at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry, man. That’s definitely your card.” Then he patted his pants pocket and his eyes widened in mock surprise. “Oh! Here it is. It was in my other pocket the whole time.” I watched the whole charade with cold detachment. The people who had been defending him looked embarrassed and started muttering under their breath. “What a drama queen. If he hadn’t been so high and mighty from the start, no one would have suspected him.” “Yeah, if he’s so rich, why’s he even taking a gift from Ryder? So gross.” “Honestly, who knows if that black card is even real? It’s probably a fake.” Hearing that, I had to suppress a smile. Oh, it’s definitely fake. The grand finale was about to begin. I felt a grin spread across my face. Ryder, annoyed by the chatter, shushed them, and they reluctantly fell silent. Everyone’s purchases were bagged and ready, a mountain of luxury shopping bags. The sales associate approached with a sycophantic smile. “Mr. Ryder, the grand total comes to six million and fifty thousand dollars. But given your significant purchase, we’ve waived the fifty thousand and upgraded you to our VIP status.” She beamed. “You only need to pay six million.” The butterfly effect of my rebirth, I guess. He’d spent a million more than last time. Without a second thought, he handed over his black card to pay. I frowned slightly. I hadn’t expected him to actually have that kind of money. The moment the transaction approved, I glanced at my phone. No notification. No alert. My account balance still had a very comfortable number of zeros. I felt a wave of relief. Just as everyone was thanking Ryder for his generosity, a sound like a dying pig echoed through the store. Ryder was staring at his phone, his voice a horrified shriek. “How do I only have two dollars left in my account?!” The words were out before he could stop them. Realizing he’d just shattered the rich-kid persona he’d worked so hard to build, he quickly tried to backtrack. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” His new friends looked over. “Ryder couldn’t possibly care about that amount of money. Did the card not have enough? Maybe we should wait while Ryder calls his parents for more cash.” “Yeah, we got the gifts, we can’t let Ryder be stressed out over it.” That last line made me snort with laughter. My laugh drew everyone’s attention. “What’s so funny? You took a gift from him too, you know.” “Don’t be an ungrateful leech. One word from Ryder and your family could be ruined.” My family, ruined? It would probably take a hundred of Ryder’s families to equal a tenth of my family’s assets. In my last life, I had only blamed him for the missing five million. If he had just explained, maybe I would have given him time to pay it back. It wasn’t worth ruining a friendship over money. But he didn’t just want my money. He wanted my life. I looked at the bag in my hand, the one containing a hundred-thousand-dollar backpack, and my mood suddenly lifted. “I wouldn’t dare,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Going against our dear Ryder is like going against the entire class. Whoever messes with him will have to answer to me.” My words only made Ryder’s face darken further. “Everybody just shut up!” he roared.

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After we got back together, I changed. I fixed all the “bad habits” Alex hated. No more constant check-in texts, no more irrational jealousy, no more picking fights over stupid things. I even found a tube of lipstick in the passenger seat—one that wasn’t mine—and I just quietly tucked it into the glove compartment for him. But instead of being pleased, Alex’s face darkened, and he slammed on the brakes. 1 Alex’s features were sharp and defined, projecting the kind of intimidating pressure that came naturally to powerful men. But right now, he was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted. “That lipstick belongs to Renee,” he said. “The work dinner last night went late. She drank too much covering for me, and she couldn’t drive, so I gave her a ride home.” He looked at me, forcing himself to give an explanation, something he usually considered beneath him. “I’ve told you a million times, I only put up with her because her father is my mentor. I have to look out for her.” His gaze was intense. “Past, present, and future—there is nothing between us.” When I didn’t respond, a crack appeared in his usually composed expression, revealing a flicker of something I’d never seen on his face before: helplessness. “What do I have to do for you to believe me?” I looked at him calmly. “I do believe you. I’m not mad.” It was like punching a pillow. Alex’s face went blank for a second. “…Then why have you been silent this whole ride?” I glanced at my watch, my mind on getting to the airport. “You used to say you hated pointless chatter,” I said, offering a weak excuse. “I’m going to be late for work. Maybe you can just drop me at this corner?” My attention was on the traffic, and I completely missed the way his expression soured. “You always get out at the next light,” he said, his voice flat. “The office is still over a mile from here.” I hadn’t thought of that. I was forced to meet his scrutinizing gaze. “If you’re not going to the office, where are you going?” Just as the suspicion in his eyes started to deepen… Ring—! The custom ringtone. It was Renee. Alex’s sharp gaze softened, his eyes darting away guiltily. “It’s a work call. I have to take it.” All his suspicion about me vanished. He unlocked the doors. “You can get out here, then.” I nodded and quickly unbuckled my seatbelt, but he stopped me. “Don’t be so clumsy. Watch where you’re going.” His voice lowered, taking on a gentler, more placating tone. “I made a reservation at that restaurant you wanted to try.” He looked at me, his expression softening. “I promised you I would never miss another anniversary.” “Happy seven years, Chloe.” “I’ll see you tonight.” My hand froze on the door handle. On our last anniversary, he’d stood me up for Renee. The memory, which had once felt like a knife in my gut, now barely registered. “You should get that,” I said softly, my voice even. “Don’t keep her waiting.” After all, Renee couldn’t wait. And neither could my flight. As for our anniversary—this year, next year, and every year after—I’d be missing it. 2 I made it onto the plane just before they closed the gate. After I found my seat, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I hadn’t had time for breakfast. I automatically reached into my coat pocket and, sure enough, found three small pieces of chocolate. Ever since I fainted from low blood sugar years ago, Alex had made it a habit to slip a few pieces of chocolate into my pocket every morning. The sweetness melted on my tongue, and the dizziness faded. But it was quickly replaced by a familiar, lingering bitterness. Seven years together. How did we end up here? At first, I really believed him when he said Renee was just the daughter of a family friend, someone he was forced to hire as a favor. I told myself that’s why he had to be so “professional” with me at the office while giving her special treatment. My department head gave me hell for months, and Alex did nothing. But when that same manager spoke to Renee in a slightly harsh tone, he was fired the next day. The office gossip was brutal. Behind my back, they didn’t call me Alex’s secret girlfriend. They called Renee the “boss’s girl.” I forced myself to believe his excuses. But the “special treatment” started bleeding into our life at home. He’d cancel our plans over and over again because of a call from her. The breaking point came one night when I saw a photo in a group chat with some coworkers. Alex, who had told me he was working late, was at a midnight movie screening with Renee. It was the same movie I had begged him to see with me, the one he’d dismissed without a second thought. “Babe, everyone’s saying you have to see Forever with the person you love most! Let’s go!” I’d pleaded, playfully tugging on his sleeve. He hadn’t even looked up from his laptop. “Watching a cheesy rom-com like that is a waste of a life.” But in the photo, he looked charming, smiling, not a hint of boredom on his face. The messages in the chat flew by, a blur in front of my tear-filled eyes. When he got home, I asked, my voice devoid of emotion, “How was Forever?” A flicker of surprise, or maybe guilt, crossed his face. Or maybe I imagined it. A second later, his expression was unreadable. “Were you following me?” My chest felt tight, like a wet, heavy towel was wrapped around my heart, squeezing the air out. “Do I need to?” I shot back, my voice trembling. “Pictures of you two are all over the office group chat!” My voice rose, shaking with a rage I couldn’t contain. “Alex, if you want to break up, just say it! You don’t have to lie to me like this!” His expression didn’t change. He was as calm as if we were discussing the weather. “If you don’t have the basic decency to trust me, then there’s nothing more to say. Chloe, I’ve had a long day. I don’t have the energy to fight with you.” No apology. No explanation. Compared to my messy, emotional state, he was the picture of composure. He even carefully placed a small paper bag he was holding onto the counter. The two words printed on the bag—Forever Chocolates—were like shards of ice piercing my heart. All the emotions I’d been suppressing—the hurt, the jealousy, the humiliation—crashed over me in a tidal wave, and my sanity finally snapped. I snatched the bag and threw it on the floor. The top wasn’t sealed, and its contents scattered across the tile with a series of soft thuds. I didn’t look. I just stared at him, my eyes burning. It was a standoff. After a long, silent moment, he turned and slammed the door behind him. I stood there, frozen, like a statue. It wasn’t until something small and round rolled to a stop at my feet that I finally looked down. It was a piece of chocolate. The floor was covered in them. Dozens of handmade, artisan chocolates. 3 My anger faded, leaving only a hollow ache. I still wanted to talk to him, to fix this. But for three days, he didn’t answer my calls. He didn’t come home. I swallowed my pride and sent him a text. I shouldn’t have lost my temper without talking to you first. But you did lie about working late. Tonight is our sixth anniversary. I’ll be waiting for you at home. Can we please just talk? I waited all day. The sun went down. The hours ticked by. He never came. At eleven, I gave up waiting and decided to go to his office. On my way, I ran into my old department head, the one Alex had fired. He was drunk. He grabbed me, dragging me into a dark alley. “So, you think you’re hot stuff, huh? Can’t touch the boss’s girl, but I can sure as hell touch you.” My frantic calls to Alex went straight to voicemail. My screams for help were swallowed by the night. If a passerby hadn’t heard the struggle and scared him off, I would have been more than just bruised and terrified. When my phone finally rang, I screamed, a raw, primal sound of fear. Seeing Alex’s name on the screen, the dam of composure I’d been holding back all night finally broke. I was about to sob his name into the phone, a wave of relief washing over me— “Hello?” It was Renee’s voice. Soft, sweet, and laced with triumph. “Alex is in the shower,” she purred. “I saw you’ve been calling a lot. Who is this? Is it important?” It felt like someone had shoved a hot coal down my throat. The pain was so intense I wanted to claw out my own vocal cords. Hanging up the phone felt like lifting a thousand-pound weight. I limped, battered and broken, to the nearest police station to file a report. When it was all over, my phone’s clock read 12:01 AM. Our anniversary was officially over. That’s when Alex finally called. His voice was cold, condescending. “Learned your lesson?” And in that moment, I understood. He had done it on purpose. All those unanswered calls on our anniversary… it was my punishment for not trusting him. Tears streamed down my swollen face, stinging like acid on open wounds. My voice came out as a ragged, broken whisper. “Alex,” I said. “Let’s break up.” There was a single beat of silence on the other end. Then, a cold laugh. “Fine. Don’t come crawling back.” He hung up. Just like that. No hesitation. No regret. 4 At first, I just couldn’t sleep. I’d lie awake for hours, replaying every moment of our relationship, terrified I had made a mistake, that I had judged him too harshly. I’d scroll through our old text messages, searching for clues, for proof. But the more I looked, the angrier I became. I started to hate him. Six years. An entire chapter of my life. I hated him for throwing it all away so easily, for treating me like I was disposable. At 4 AM one morning, I deleted him from everything. I got out of bed and, in a fit of rage, gathered all of his belongings, stuffed them into trash bags, and hurled them into the dumpster behind my building. I thought I would feel better, relieved. But it was like squashing a mosquito that had been tormenting me, only to find it was my own blood that splattered on the wall. I went to work, pretending everything was fine. But I could feel the gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be. It had been rotting for a while, a part of me that was attached to Alex. To save myself, I had to cut it out. But the wound was too big. I was bleeding out. The final blow came when I saw him at a company-wide meeting. He was the same as always—composed, confident, in control. In fact, he looked better than ever. Losing me hadn’t affected him at all. I saw Renee catch his eye from across the room, a faint blush on her cheeks. That night, the insomnia came back with a vengeance. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Alex wasn’t on social media, so I started obsessively stalking Renee’s accounts, dissecting every post, every caption, for any hidden meaning, any clue about him. It all came to a head when I collapsed at work from low blood sugar and was rushed to the hospital. Alex deigned to visit me. It was the twenty-ninth day since our breakup. He sat by my bed, casually spinning the matching ring we used to wear on his finger. “You’ve lost weight, Chloe.” I stared at him, my eyes vacant. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. A triumphant, self-satisfied smile spread across his face. We got back together. 5 They say it’s better to rip off a band-aid quickly. But for someone like me, someone with no willpower left, that wasn’t an option. The only way out was a slow, quiet withdrawal. I would keep him in my life, but I would slowly, methodically, stop expecting anything from him. It was like boiling my own heart in lukewarm water. The process wouldn’t be painless, but at least the end wouldn’t be a violent shock. At first, pretending to be okay, pretending not to care, still hurt. But Alex seemed pleased with the new me. He’d smile, pat my head like I was a well-behaved pet. “You’re finally growing up, Chloe.” After six months of this self-imposed therapy, it started to work. I really was becoming the person he wanted me to be. He’d stay out all night, and I wouldn’t send a single text. I stopped asking about Renee. And then, one day, I realized it was over. The rotten part of my heart, the part that belonged to him, had finally detached. It fell away without a sound. I stood there for a moment, stunned. Then, I smiled. I immediately sent my resume to a company in France that had tried to recruit me a year earlier. I’d turned them down then, to stay with Alex. They offered me the job. My flight was in two weeks. I didn’t plan on telling him. Our relationship was already an afterthought to him. My leaving would be a non-event. I became more understanding, more accommodating. But as I grew more detached, Alex seemed to grow more agitated. I thought I was imagining it. I came home late from work one night, and as I was about to get in the shower, he stopped me. He looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “Is there anything you want to talk to me about?” I yawned, genuinely confused. “No? Why?” “Nothing,” he said, his voice flat. “Go ahead.” But something was definitely wrong. Later that night, in bed, his touch was harder, more demanding than it had been in months. He held me from behind, his hot breath on my neck. His whispers were soft, but his movements were rough, almost punishing. “Renee has been giving you a hard time at work, making you work late. Why didn’t you tell me?” he murmured. My stomach cramped. I couldn’t understand what he was so angry about. All I could do was gasp for air and plead with him. “It’s… work. I was being… professional. Like you wanted.” I was remembering the time my old boss, the one who’d assaulted me, had set me up to take the fall for a huge mistake. Alex had publicly humiliated me in front of the entire company. “Even an intern wouldn’t make a mistake this stupid,” he’d said. Later that night, I’d tried to defend myself. “You could have at least let me explain.” “Business is business, Chloe,” he’d said, his face as cold as it had been in the boardroom. “I only look at results. At the office, I’m your boss, not your boyfriend. It’s not my job to protect you.” Two days later, my boss was fired for being rude to Renee. Everyone assumed I would be promoted. But Renee, who hadn’t even finished her probationary period, was given the job. She became my boss. … And now, here I was, finally playing by his rules. Being professional. Not causing drama. And he was angry. He suddenly flipped me over onto my back. The light from the lamp was too bright. I shielded my eyes, a single tear escaping and rolling down my temple. He tried to pull my hand away. I resisted, my voice weak. “What are you doing?” He pried my hand from my face. He stared into my eyes, his own expression intense, almost desperate. “You used to look at me,” he said, his voice raw. I didn’t know what kind of game this was. I just wanted it to be over. I forced myself to meet his gaze. In that instant, a flicker of panic crossed his face. He quickly covered my eyes with his hand, as if he couldn’t bear to look at them anymore. He kissed me, murmuring my name over and over again. “Chloe. Chloe.” 6 The next day, Alex called an emergency meeting and asked Renee for a project update. All the work had been done by me. Renee stammered, unable to answer a single question. “If you can’t even be bothered to understand your own projects,” Alex said, his voice dangerously quiet, “then perhaps you shouldn’t be in this position.” The entire conference room was silent. You could have heard a pin drop. Renee burst into tears and ran out of the room. After the meeting, the office break room was buzzing. “Did you see the look on his face?” “Is the ‘boss’s girl’ finally getting fired?” I was quietly making a cup of instant coffee when someone nudged me. “Chloe, what do you think?” “I have to say, you’re tough,” another coworker chimed in. “I would have cried if Alex had yelled at me like he yelled at you.” I had no interest in their drama. But in an office, silence can be mistaken for betrayal. So I played along. “Hey, I’m just a worker bee,” I said with a laugh. “What do I know? It’s probably just a lovers’ quarrel. You know how it is. It’ll all be fine by tomorrow.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Besides, they look good together. Honestly? I kind of ship it.” As I said the words, I realized the break room had gone completely silent. I looked up. Alex was standing in the doorway, his face like a thundercloud. The pitying looks from my coworkers followed me as I was summoned to his top-floor office. The second the door closed, he was behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. I jumped. He was always so careful about us being seen together at the office. I was always forced to get out of the car two blocks away. But now, the door was unlocked. Any of his seven assistants could walk in at any moment. “Someone will see us!” I hissed, trying to push him away. He ignored me, turning me around to face him. He searched my eyes again, looking for something I no longer had to give. After a long moment, he dropped his hands. “Chloe,” he said, his voice low. “There’s nothing between me and Renee.” He started to say something else, then stopped. “Forget it. I know you’re still mad. But I’m going to prove it to you. With my actions.” I stared at him, stunned. The commitment I had begged and cried for before was now being handed to me on a silver platter. But my flight was in seven days. And I didn’t want it anymore.

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