1 The Covington line is thin—for generations, we’ve had only one heir. To secure the future, my father adopted three girls, decreeing: whichever bore my son would see that child inherit the entire Covington fortune. Everyone whispered the true heir would come from these three, but they only looked at me with contempt. I loved Selena for years, yet got nothing but scorn. I thought she was just cold—until I saw her in Leo, our driver’s son’s arms, vowing: “I’m only marrying him to repay the Covingtons. Once I bear the heir, I’ll divorce him and marry you. I’ll even give Ethan millions to vanish abroad if he doesn’t hurt you. You’re my only true husband.” On the eve of the annual shareholders’ meeting, my father asked for my choice. Thinking of their evasive, resentful eyes, a cold smile crossed my lips. “I’m the Covington heir—my marriage should be a highest-return transaction. I choose Felicity Thorne from the capital.” My father frowned. “Felicity Thorne? She was paralyzed in a car crash five years ago, confined to a wheelchair and unable to have children. Are you certain?” … My voice was soft, but my resolve was steel. “In our world, true love is a currency we can’t afford. Since it’s all about maximizing profit, aligning with the Thorne dynasty is the most logical choice.” My father’s expression was grave. “That may be true, but what about the three girls I chose for you? Did none of them catch your eye?” My father had loved my mother deeply, but she died of a sudden brain hemorrhage the year I was born. He couldn’t bear the thought of remarrying, but he knew I had little interest in romance and feared I would be the one to end the Covington line. On a friend’s advice, he’d adopted three orphans, all without family to their name. He’d drafted his will early: whichever one I chose would co-manage the company with me, a united front against the other board members. I looked my father in the eye. “Felicity may be in a wheelchair and unable to conceive naturally, but we can have a child through IVF and a surrogate. She is the sole heiress to the Thorne fortune. Rather than propping up an orphan to support our family, it’s far wiser to ally with a powerhouse.” He nodded slowly. “If those three couldn’t capture your heart, then there’s no reason for them to remain at Covington Corp.” If I had told him the simple truth—that I wouldn’t force myself on Selena because she didn’t love me—he would have dragged her before me, made her kneel, and demanded to know what right an adopted charity case had to refuse his son. I didn’t want him to weaponize his years of kindness against her, nor did I want to chain myself to a woman who despised me. Besides, the words I’d overheard her speak to Leo had frozen my heart solid. Letting her go peacefully was the greatest mercy I could offer. As my father left his office, he shot a sharp, appraising glance at Selena, who was waiting outside. After seeing him off with practiced deference, she turned to me, her brow creased in annoyance. “What did you tattle to him about this time?” Her eyes were filled with a familiar disgust, as if I were something vile she’d stepped in. Before I could answer, Clara, standing beside her, let out a derisive snort. “What else? The usual complaints, I’m sure. That we’re not falling all over ourselves to worship him.” Lara, the third, chimed in with a sneer. “Listen, your highness, the monarchy fell a long time ago. Do you really think your money makes you a king that everyone has to revolve around?” The three of them stood united, their words like sharpened daggers aimed at my heart. I was genuinely confused. “None of you want to marry me. Why has not one of you ever said so to my father?” While he’d hoped a relationship would blossom, he was a pragmatist, not a tyrant. The moment any of them had said no, he would have cut them a generous check and sent them on their way to a life of freedom abroad. But that would mean giving up the Covington fortune, wouldn’t it? Lara, ever the hothead, clicked her tongue impatiently. “Don’t make it sound so noble. We know what we are. We’re charity cases, the dogs you Covingtons decided to keep. What right do we have to refuse?” Selena’s face was pale with anger as she stared at me. “Fine. Choose me. Just promise you won’t make things difficult for the other two.” Lara and Clara looked at her, their expressions softening with gratitude. Seeing Selena stand there, a reluctant martyr, filled my chest with a bitter ache. Before I could speak, Leo appeared, materializing as if from thin air. The moment he saw me, he flinched and scurried behind Selena for protection. A grown man, hiding behind a woman. “He hasn’t done anything,” Selena said immediately, shielding him. “Just leave him alone today.” I looked from one to the other, bewildered. All three of them, the women who were supposed to be on my side, now formed a protective wall in front of Leo, glaring at me as if I were the villain. They saw themselves as strong, independent women and disliked my confidence, my assertiveness. Instead, they doted on Leo, a man who was my inferior in every conceivable way. I remembered when Leo first arrived at our estate five years ago. He’d given me a cheap wristwatch as a gift. I, in turn, presented him with a ten-thousand-dollar tailored suit as a welcoming present. The moment I put on the watch, Selena snatched it from my wrist. “This was a memento from Leo’s mother!” she’d snarled. “You’d even steal that from him?” I’d looked at Leo, waiting for him to explain that it was a gift, freely given. Instead, his face crumpled, and he dropped to his knees. “Mr. Covington didn’t steal it! I gave it to him willingly!” he cried, his voice thick with false tears. “He’s been so kind to me, he even gave me this suit. I’m not upset, really.” He started banging his head on the marble floor. The sight made the three girls’ eyes turn red, reminding them of their own dependent status. They rounded on me, filled with righteous fury. “Just because you’re Ethan Covington doesn’t give you the right to force someone to give you their mother’s last gift!” “That watch may not be expensive, but its sentimental value is worth more than any suit! Give it back to him, now!” “You’re always the same. So selfish. You only care about what you want.” My face hardened, but I told myself it was a misunderstanding, something we could clear up later. Swallowing my anger, I held the watch out to Leo. As he reached for it, his hand “slipped.” The watch fell to the floor, shattering. He stared at the broken pieces, then looked up at me, his eyes blazing with manufactured rage. “If you were just going to destroy it, why pretend to give it back?” Selena, ever the champion of the oppressed, turned on me with an icy threat. “Apologize to Leo. Right now. Or don’t expect me to ever marry you.” I had confessed my feelings to her by then, told her she was the only one I could ever imagine marrying. She used that confession as a weapon, forcing me to bow to Leo. I was younger then, terrified of losing her, too afraid to risk defending myself. So I lowered my head, my eyes burning with shame, and apologized. That single apology became a five-year sentence. From that day on, whenever Leo saw me, he’d react like a mouse seeing a cat, either collapsing to his knees or bursting into tears. And I hadn’t done a single thing. My face was a cold mask as I looked at Selena now. “If you’re that worried about me ‘bullying’ Leo, perhaps you should keep him on a leash.” My words were dripping with sarcasm, but she took them literally. “Is that a threat? What are you planning to do to him?” Lara clapped her hands together. “I know what this is about! It’s because we gave the Celestial Deep to Leo, isn’t it? You’re going to use that as an excuse to hurt him!” Clara’s gaze was glacial. “You have everything. Leo’s never even had a proper birthday celebration. It’s just an aquarium. Is it really worth making such a scene over?” My blood ran cold. “The Celestial Deep?” The Celestial Deep was a state-of-the-art private underground aquarium, a project started the year I was born. Its main feature was a wall of flawless imperial jade, which, when viewed through the shimmering water, created the illusion of a vast, cosmic nebula. It was finally completed six months ago, and my father had entrusted Selena with the finishing touches. It was meant to be my gift, presented to me at my birthday gala in a month. And now, my gift belonged to Leo. My eyes locked onto Selena. She was in charge of the project. No one could have gotten inside without her approval. She flinched under my gaze, turning her head away with a flash of guilt and anger. “Leo grew up poor, working just to survive. He’s never really seen a starry sky. I just wanted to grant him one small wish. Besides,” she added defensively, “the ownership is still in your name, isn’t it?” “Stop being so difficult. Fine. At your birthday party, I’ll announce our engagement. Will that make you happy?” She looked at me as if she were bestowing a great charity, and for a moment, I felt like I was the orphan in this house. But no one else seemed to find her attitude strange. In fact, they all looked at her with pity, as if she were the one making a great sacrifice. “Why do you have to do that for him? Marrying Ethan, with his cruel, arrogant nature? You’d be better off becoming a nun.” “I bet he’s thrilled. He’s finally getting what he’s wanted for years.” “Selena, please don’t throw your life away for my sake!” Leo wailed, ever the performer. “I’ll kneel, I’ll beg him, I’ll be his slave, whatever it takes…” My throat was dry. “I’m not going to marry you,” I said, the words tasting like ash. Selena’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Lara and Clara exchanged nervous glances, suddenly terrified I might choose one of them instead. Being so thoroughly rejected by the three people I’d grown up with… if I didn’t leave right then, I was afraid of what I might do. I turned to go, but Leo grabbed my wrist. His eyes were red, his expression one of profound humiliation as he, once again, dropped to his knees. “Please, don’t take this out on Selena. They’re all adopted by your family, they’re already seen as lesser. If you’re angry that they gave me the Celestial Deep and you’re going to tell your father, I’m the one you should punish. I’ll apologize.” He started banging his head on the floor again, harder this time, until a raw, red mark appeared on his forehead. Selena rushed to help him up, her heart aching for him. She turned to me, her eyes blazing with fury. “You say you won’t marry me, but let’s see you stick to that! Using these cheap tricks to torment Leo, what does that prove?! You’re just trying to find an excuse to run to your father and get him thrown out!” I looked at her, my expression unreadable. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But rest assured, I will not choose you as my wife.” I thought that would be the end of it, but she grabbed my arm. “If not me, then who? Clara? Or Lara?” “Lara is passionate about art; she wants to study abroad. Clara craves freedom. Isn’t it enough that you’ve ruined my life? Do you have to ruin theirs, too?” She took a deep breath, her voice softening into a weary plea. “If you promise to leave Leo alone from now on, I’ll marry you. Just stop this, please?” Her eyes were filled with exhaustion, as if I had been torturing her for years. I looked at her, really looked at her, for a long moment. “Everything,” I said softly, “will be exactly as you wish.” She was so afraid I would hurt Leo, and she so desperately didn’t want to be my wife. When I married Felicity Thorne, all her problems would be solved. I didn’t see her again until the night of my birthday gala. She appeared with Clara and Lara in tow, her face a thundercloud. I frowned at my assistant. I had specifically told him not to invite them, that the announcement had nothing to do with them. He just shook his head frantically, mouthing, I don’t know, they just showed up! I sighed and decided to ignore them. The other guests, however, were not so circumspect. “Miss Selena, you’re a true prodigy! That deal you closed last month must have brought in millions. No wonder Mr. Covington is so devoted to you.” I closed that deal. Selena just signed the papers. “Miss Lara, you may have a temper, but you have a strong sense of justice. Mr. Covington would be lucky to have you.” I scoffed internally. Lara was the one who bullied me the most, treating me like a venomous snake she wanted to crush. “And Miss Clara, so elegant and capable. Mr. Covington couldn’t go wrong choosing you.” The three of them moved through my party as if they were the hosts. I was about to put a stop to the charade when all three of them simultaneously looked down at their phones. Before I could react, Lara’s face contorted with rage. She stormed towards me and slapped me hard across the face. The blow sent my head spinning, and I nearly stumbled. A shocked silence fell over the room as guests scrambled to get out of the way. Selena clenched her fists, stopping Lara from hitting me again. She turned to me, her teeth gritted. “We’re already here, on display like items in a shop for you to choose from. What more do you want? Do you have to drive Leo to his death?” I had no idea what she was talking about. Seeing my confusion, Clara’s lip curled in disgust. “You waited until none of us were around and had him kidnapped. Let me tell you, you won’t get what you want!” Her words hit me like a physical blow. Leo had played another one of his games. The guests were all my father’s friends and business partners, yet not a single one of them moved to intervene as I stood there, humiliated. In that moment, I understood. They didn’t believe the Covington fortune would ever truly be mine. They didn’t dare cross the three women they saw as the future matriarchs. I cradled my stinging cheek, my eyes cold as ice. “Apologize.” Lara glanced at my reddened eyes and sneered. “Leo was nearly beaten to death. You got one little slap. What’s there to cry about?” “I’m… I’m okay…” A new voice cut through the tension. Leo limped into the room, his clothes torn, his face a mess of bruises. He looked like he’d been through hell. Selena rushed to his side, draping her own jacket over his shoulders. She looked back at me with utter revulsion. “You truly are the most manipulative person I have ever met. I would never, ever marry a man like you.” Clara, usually so quiet, stepped in front of Leo. “Your family line is so weak you need to use women as broodmares. You brought the three of us here to be your tools. We accepted our fate, but even that wasn’t enough for you. Fine. There’s no need to keep up this pretense of peace.” She turned and walked away without a backward glance, showing zero regard for the Covington family’s reputation. As she left, Selena threw one last, arrogant remark over her shoulder. “I will marry you. But after the child is born, you will be nothing more than a figurehead. If you want my son to protect this family’s empire, you will learn to stay in your place.” I laughed. Had they forgotten? Without me, they would still be in an orphanage. As they made for the exit, a few guests finally moved to stop them. But I roared, my voice cracking like a whip, “Let them go!” Leo shot me a triumphant, mocking glance over his shoulder, as if he’d just conquered the world. I stood there, silent, until my assistant whispered frantically, “Sir, what do we do now? They’re all gone. Who will you choose?” The guests were murmuring amongst themselves. “The Covingtons need an heir. If the three women who know him best want nothing to do with him, who could he possibly marry?” I almost laughed out loud. As if they were the only three women in the world. Smiling, I raised my glass of wine. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. As you know, tonight is not just my birthday celebration. It is also my engagement party.” On the massive screen behind me, a face appeared—cold, stunningly beautiful, and utterly imperious. A collective gasp went through the crowd. “Isn’t that… Felicity Thorne of the capital?!”

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1 Six years ago, Patrick Percy—the prodigal son my parents had just found after he’d been lost for years—cornered a girl in an alley. A predator driven by a sudden, vicious impulse. She didn’t survive. But under my parents’ protection, Patrick pinned the entire crime on me, his adopted brother. The victim’s family hurled cans of red paint at our front door, screaming for my life in return for hers. My parents and my younger sister, Leah, knelt before me, begging me to confess. “Patrick just got into Westwood University. His future can’t be ruined by a prison sentence.” “You’ve lived his life, enjoyed his privileges for over a decade. It’s time you paid his price.” I refused. I fought back, screaming that I would call the police, but they beat me unconscious and handed me over themselves. The case became a media sensation. My provisional acceptance to Oxford was revoked, my name given to someone else. The school expelled me. And Seraphina Blackwood—my girlfriend, the sole heiress to the Blackwood Corporation—took the stand and pointed her finger right at me. After I was sentenced, she visited me in prison, her voice a soft promise. “Evan, I know this is unfair. Just endure these six years. When you get out, I’ll keep my word. I’ll marry you.” … Six years later, a guard unlocked the heavy steel gates. “Go out there and be a good man. No more trouble.” He handed me a small slice of angel food cake, a tradition for a clean slate. “Eat this. A fresh start.” I took the cake, my hand numb, and bowed my head in thanks. I had barely turned to leave when a hand grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me backward. I was shoved into a battered old Jeep. The cake tumbled from my grasp, its pristine white surface splattering against the ground. A heavy boot immediately ground it into the mud. “Mr. Percy sends his regards, kid,” the driver sneered. “Today’s a big day for the young master, he’s receiving an award. Your showing up would be bad luck. I’m here to take you back home.” The whole city was erupting in applause for Patrick Percy, the nation’s youngest scientific prodigy. Not a single soul remembered me, the one who had rotted in a cell for his crime for six long years. We were just hitting the outer ring road when a custom supercar, shimmering as if dusted with diamonds, cut us off. A woman in a limited-edition designer suit stepped out. It was Seraphina. She opened the Jeep’s door with a look of distaste, her brow furrowed as she looked at me. Her voice was cool, detached. “You’ve had a rough six years. The wedding is next week. I’m a woman of my word; I said I’d marry you when you got out.” I stared at her, my face a mask of indifference. Then, without a word, I pushed myself out of the Jeep. My right leg buckled, and I moved with a pronounced limp. “You don’t mind that I’m a cripple? Then let’s get married.” Seraphina froze, her eyes fixed on my leg. “Evan, your leg…” Before she could finish, her phone rang. “Sera, you have to come quick! My brother just collapsed!” It was my sister, Leah, on the other end. Seraphina’s face filled with panic. “I’m sorry, Evan. Patrick’s not well. I have to get to the hospital.” She rushed out an explanation. “He’s been under so much pressure. When he heard you were coming home yesterday, he felt so guilty he cried all night. Your parents and Leah are with him now.” She turned to leave, then hesitated, her gaze falling back to my leg. “Go on to the Percy estate. I’ll find the best orthopedic surgeon in the city to fix your leg.” I watched her supercar speed away, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. This leg was destroyed on my first day in prison six years ago. The agony was blinding, and my desperate cries for help only seemed to fuel the sadism of the inmates. What followed was a new level of torture. Every beating, every slur I endured over those six years was a brutal, relentless reminder that no one had ever truly loved me. My parents, my sister, my fiancée—the person they truly cared about was Patrick. Twenty years ago, my parents chose me from an orphanage. They wept as they held me, saying I looked just like the son they had just lost. I became their medicine, a balm for their grief. But I never felt their love. I was constantly scolded, constantly reminded of how I fell short of their perfect, lost son. I pushed myself to be flawless, desperate for a single word of praise. My room was wallpapered with awards and certificates. I was the star student, the one teachers adored. But at home, I was invisible. The day they found Patrick, their faces lit up with a joy so pure and ecstatic it took my breath away. It was a look I had never seen, and never would receive, in my entire life. … “Second Young Master, the utility closet at the end of the hall on the first floor has been cleared out for you,” the driver said as we arrived. “Mr. Percy said what happened six years ago was a huge scandal. He wants you to stay out of sight, so you don’t embarrass the family in front of guests.” My hands clenched into fists. I had served six years for Patrick’s crime, and my parents were still determined to brand me a murderer? A familiar, dull ache settled in my chest. I locked myself in the cramped, dusty room and let the tears I had held back for six years finally fall. I woke in the middle of the night, my stomach cramping with hunger. I realized no one had called me for dinner. With a hollow laugh, I crept toward the kitchen, hoping to find some scraps. As I neared the living room, I heard Leah’s voice, sharp with complaint. “Mom, Dad, why did you even bring Evan back? You know he stole Patrick’s place. He should have died in prison for all I care!” My mother sighed. “We were afraid he’d start talking, that he might ruin Patrick’s career.” “I don’t want to see him,” Leah pouted. “He was never one of us. I just want it to be the four of us: you, Dad, and Patrick.” Her words were daggers in my heart. My limbs went cold. The little sister I had adored and protected for so many years… she hated me this much. I knew they didn’t love me, but hearing it spoken so plainly still felt like my lungs were being crushed. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was my old university professor, the head of my lab. “Evan. I’ve waited six years for this call. I’m finally able to reach you. I’m so sorry, son. I did everything I could, but my influence was limited. I couldn’t get you out.” Hearing his voice, a fresh wave of tears streamed down my face. On the day of the murder, I had an alibi. I was in the lab with my professor, working late. After the Percys forced me into prison, he had fought for me, appealing to the courts, presenting our evidence. But every attempt was blocked, every piece of evidence buried by the Blackwood family’s lawyers, all orchestrated by Seraphina. My professor was the only person in the world who still remembered me, who still cared. I immediately accepted his offer. I agreed to release the patent for the technology I’d developed six years ago for use in the top-secret “Project Chimera,” a national research initiative. “That’s wonderful news! Evan, with you on board, Project Chimera will be unstoppable.” His voice was filled with excitement. “In ten days, I’ll come to pick you up and take you to the facility. You’re about to send shockwaves through the entire scientific community!” Six years. After six years of being buried in darkness, I could finally step back into the light. Ten days. I clenched my fists, my jaw tight. Just ten more days. Then I could finally leave this cold, loveless house for good. This time, I was the one leaving them. The next morning, the sudden crackle of fireworks outside jolted me awake. I fell from my makeshift bed, scrambling into a corner, trembling uncontrollably. A maid pushed the door open and saw me huddled there, her eyes filled with contempt. The fireworks… they brought it all back. In prison, they’d stuffed firecrackers into my bedding. The explosion, the searing flames engulfing my body. I had survived, but with burns covering over half my body, leaving behind a tapestry of hideous, permanent scars. “The Young Master is in a good mood. He wants you to come out for a meal. Stop dragging your feet and get a move on!” she snapped. I forced myself to calm down and stepped out of the utility closet. The lavishly decorated living room buzzed with energy. Patrick stood in the center, dressed in a bespoke suit, a golden party crown perched on his head like some pampered prince. My parents, Leah, and my fiancée, Seraphina, all gathered around him, celebrating his birthday. My parents presented him with the keys to a new sports car. “Our son, you’re brilliant! Chosen for Project Chimera! You make us so proud!” Leah gave him a pair of diamond cufflinks. “Big brother, I’ll miss you so much when you’re at the facility!” Seraphina handed him a portfolio. “Patrick, my parents are thrilled about you joining the project. This is a birthday gift from them—half the shares of the Blackwood Corporation.” Patrick accepted it all with a gracious smile, then his eyes found me, standing alone and disheveled at the edge of the room. “Evan, you’re awake! I’m so sorry I didn’t get to welcome you yesterday, I collapsed so suddenly. You’re not mad at your big brother, are you?” Before I could answer, Seraphina spoke for me. “Of course he’s not. He’s your brother, after all.” “Good. Evan, come have some cake! Mom and Dad got my favorite—mango.” I remained frozen in place. My father’s face darkened. “What an ungrateful brat,” he muttered. “Can’t even wish his own brother a happy birthday.” A bitter laugh escaped me. They had forgotten. They had all forgotten that I’m deathly allergic to mangoes. One bite could kill me. Patrick, ever the ‘caring’ brother, spoke up. “Dad, Mom, don’t be so hard on him. If it weren’t for Evan taking the fall for me, I’d never have had the chance to join Project Chimera. You know, back in the day, he was the real genius. It’s amazing how much can change in six years.” He cut a large slice of the cake and walked toward me. “Evan, it’s my birthday. Just one bite, for me. Please?” The sickly-sweet scent of mango flooded my senses. My throat began to tighten, my vision swam with red. And then I saw it—a wicked, triumphant smile on Patrick’s face, a private little show just for me. My heart hammered against my ribs. In a flash of cold dread, I realized he was trying to kill me, right here, in front of everyone. My hand shot out, swatting the plate from his hand. It clattered to the floor. “You bastard!” My father’s hand cracked across my face. “Your brother offers you cake out of the kindness of his heart, and you throw it on the floor? Have you lost your mind?” My mother rushed to Patrick’s side, shielding him as if I were a monster. “You ungrateful wolf! We should have never brought you into our home! How dare you lay a hand on my son!” Leah, in her sharp high heels, kicked me twice in my good leg. “You useless cripple! Why didn’t you just die in prison? What are you even doing here?” Their words rained down on me, each one a physical blow. I collapsed, too broken to stand. I looked up and met Seraphina’s cold, disappointed gaze. “Evan, I can’t believe what you’ve become. You’ve lost even the most basic sense of respect. I’m so disappointed in you.” I looked at their furious, accusing faces, at Patrick’s smug, victorious expression, and a ragged laugh tore from my throat. If they didn’t want me here, fine. I would leave. I hauled myself up from the floor, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. “I think I’ll go for a walk. I don’t want to spoil the party.” “Then don’t come back! This family has no place for a coward like you!” my father roared. As I stepped out of the Percy estate, I took a deep breath. Nine days. Nine more days and I would be free of them forever. As for Seraphina… if I was such a disappointment to her, then there was no need for a wedding. Growing up under the Percys’ harsh, loveless rule had taught me how to survive on my own. I found a job at a small diner—serving tea, clearing tables, washing dishes. It was mindless work, but it was honest. The owner knew about my prison record but didn’t care. It was a place to rest my head. That night, the familiar ache returned, sharp and insistent. Six years ago, Seraphina was in a car accident. To save her, I had willingly donated my left eye and one of my kidneys. The recovery should have been smooth, but the years of abuse in prison had ravaged my body. The internal damage was severe. I swallowed a painkiller, but the agony was too much. I blacked out. … A few days later, I saw it on the news. Seraphina Blackwood and Patrick Percy were announcing their engagement. Stunned, I answered a call from her. Her voice was hesitant. “Evan… Patrick is very sick. The doctors say his prognosis is poor. He wants to marry me. I can’t say no.” “You need to give me some time,” she continued, her voice pleading. “I have to help him through this. After all… he was the one who donated his eye and kidney to me after the accident. I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for him.” The world tilted on its axis. It was me. I was the one who saved her. How had it become Patrick? “Fine,” I said, my voice hollow. “I wish you both happiness.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t explain. As I hung up, I could still hear her promising to find a doctor for my leg, still insisting that our wedding would happen, that she just needed a little more time… On the day of their wedding, the entire city’s elite turned out. The ceremony was broadcast live, a lavish, fairytale spectacle. I sent Seraphina one last text message: I wish you happiness. From this moment on, we are strangers. I attached the digital file of the organ donation consent form I had signed six years ago. My signature and thumbprint were clearly visible. After that, I snapped my SIM card in half and threw it in the trash. I said goodbye to the diner owner, then walked out to the curb where my professor was waiting. Without a second’s hesitation, I got in his car. Goodbye, Seraphina. Goodbye, Mom, Dad, and Leah. This time, I was the one who didn’t want you.

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On our wedding day, my fiancée Molly stood by the limousine, refusing to get in. “I’m not marrying you, Noah.” Stunned, I watched as her bridesmaids laughed: “Game over—I won! You really tamed this unattainable prize, Molly. Pay up—bets and gifts, transfer everything, no shortcuts.” Then my brother Jason Sterling stepped out of another car, in the same suit as me. He took Molly’s hand and led her into the limo. As it sped off, my family surrounded me. My A-list sister Claire blocked my way: “Molly loves Jason—today’s their wedding. Behave.” My Oscar-winning mother gripped my hand: “Noah, Jason has severe depression, even suicidal thoughts. Molly’s the only one who calms him. Let him have this.” My father, one of the nation’s richest men, snorted: “He’s already lived Jason’s first 18 years. Giving up one woman is nothing.” They had security lock me in the house to stop me from ruining the hotel wedding. I didn’t cry or scream. In fact, I could barely hold back a smile. 1 As the bodyguards shoved me into the villa, a system notification chimed in my mind. Host, do you confirm you wish to exit this world via death? Confirm. Please select a method of death. I’ll jump from a building. I want to die right in front of Molly and the Sterlings. To haunt them forever. Generating death method… Method confirmed. Upon successful completion, the Host will receive a system reward of one hundred million dollars. This selection cannot be changed. Confirm. This was my twenty-first year in this world, and the third year since Jason Sterling had been found. I was a transmigrator. My current identity was that of the fake young master of a billionaire family. My brother, Jason, was the true heir, switched at birth. Having been an orphan in my previous life, I felt incredibly lucky when I first arrived here. I had a mother, a father, and a sister who loved and protected me. But everything changed on my eighteenth birthday, the day my father brought Jason home. The doors and windows of the villa were locked from the outside. They had several people watching me. “Second Young Master, you’d best stay put, or you’ll regret it.” Mrs. Petrova, the head housekeeper, stood before me, brandishing a baseball bat. Her expression was that of a cruel prison warden. I took two steps toward the door, and the bat cracked against my shin. The pain was so sharp I collapsed to my knees. “The Young Master specifically told me,” she sneered, “if you dare to disobey, I’m to break your legs.” Suddenly, she shrieked, “The Second Young Master is trying to escape to ruin the wedding! Stop him!” Several bodyguards immediately grabbed their own batons and advanced on me. 2 I scrambled backward in terror. “What are you doing? I wasn’t running! You can’t just attack me!” “Oh, we know what you’re thinking, Second Young Master. Even if you’re not running now, who’s to say you won’t in a minute?” a guard said. “It’s safer to just break your legs now and be done with it. As long as I’m here, you won’t be ruining the Young Master’s wedding!” “Do you think I won’t tell my parents?” I gasped. “And what if you do?” Mrs. Petrova laughed. “I’ll just say you were so desperate to escape you jumped from the second-floor window and broke them yourself. They won’t do a thing!” “Do it!” They swarmed me, their clubs and batons rising and falling. I could hear the sickening crunch of my own bones. My white shirt was stained crimson, and even my black suit jacket was dark with a damp, sticky sheen. But they didn’t stop, as if determined to beat me to death. “If I die here today, the Sterlings will not spare you!” I choked out. “You still think you’re the precious young master? You’re just some bastard they found! If they didn’t pity you, they’d have thrown you out long ago!” one of them spat. “When the real young master came back, they wanted to send you away. If Miss Claire hadn’t begged them, saying they could just keep you ‘like a stray dog’, you think you’d still be in this house?” “And you dare to compete with the Young Master for his wife? In your dreams!” A horrifying realization dawned on me, and I started to laugh. “So, you’re not just trying to stop me from ruining the wedding… you’re trying to kill me!” “It’s not impossible for you to have ‘fallen to your death during an escape attempt’, is it, Second Young Master?” Panic seized me. I was ready to die, but not like this. This wasn’t the method I had chosen. What if I couldn’t go back? I don’t know where the strength came from, but I lunged forward, tackling the man in front of me. We crashed into a high table, knocking over a large memorial candle my mother had lit for Jason’s good fortune. The candle fell to the floor, its flame instantly igniting the heavy velvet curtains. The villa erupted in fire. “You damned little bastard! How dare you set a fire!” In their moment of panic, I dragged my broken leg and scrambled out of the house. The entire villa district was covered in security cameras; they wouldn’t dare chase me outside. Dressed in a blood-soaked suit, I limped onto the main road, trying to hail a taxi to the hotel. My appearance was so ghastly that car after car swerved around me. Finally, a kind young man pulled over and asked if I needed help. I begged him to take me to the hotel. The hotel was one of my father’s properties, and the staff all knew me. Even seeing my horrific state, the security guards and front desk staff didn’t dare stop me. When I reached the entrance to the grand ballroom, my sister and parents were there, warmly greeting the wedding guests, their faces beaming with happiness. The moment they saw me, their smiles froze. 3 This was the wedding of the year, and media outlets from across the country were present. When they saw me stumble in, a frenzy of flashing cameras swarmed me like vultures. Claire marched up to me, her face a mask of fury. “What are you doing here?” She muttered under her breath, “A bunch of useless fools, can’t even watch one person!” Then she hissed at me, “Look at the state of you! Did you do this to yourself on purpose, just to bring bad luck to this day?” “Are you that desperate for the headlines? Is this what you’ll do to be famous?” My mother rushed over, her eyes wide with what looked like concern. “Noah, what happened? Is that blood on your suit?” “Yes, it’s blood. My blood. The men Jason hired beat me half to death. I barely escaped.” My father’s hand cracked across my face. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. “You shameless liar! Can’t you stand to see your brother happy for one single day?” My mother grabbed my hand. “Noah, you said Jason’s men beat you?” Claire pulled her away. “Mom, don’t be ridiculous! It’s obviously paint. He loves pulling these stunts for the media!” She grabbed my wrist and tried to drag me away. I stumbled and fell to the floor. My broken leg was now exposed for everyone to see. A collective gasp went through the hall. The bone of my shin had pierced through the skin, stark white against the blood. I had dragged myself here on that leg. Any normal person would have passed out from the pain long ago. Thankfully, the system had taken pity on me and activated a pain-dampening feature. I couldn’t feel a thing. My mother covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. “Noah, how did you get so hurt?” Even my father’s eyes flickered with a hint of pain. “How could you do this to yourself?” Even Claire, who had been so hostile just moments before, was speechless. Molly pushed through the crowd and saw me lying on the floor. “Noah?” I lifted my blood-streaked face to look at her. “Good, you’re here. I have a few questions for you.” Jason rushed to her side, his handsome face tear-stained, his posture a picture of saintly sorrow. “Noah, today is the most important day of my life. Must you destroy it?” he cried, his body trembling. “Why are you always targeting me? You’ve already stolen everything that was mine! All I wanted was Molly! Can’t you just let us be happy?” Claire reached for me. “I’ll take you to the hospital.” “Claire!” Jason’s voice cracked with a sob. “The ceremony is about to start. Are you leaving?” He looked at me with wounded eyes. “This is just one of his sick games, isn’t it? Do you really believe I would have my own brother beaten like this?” Claire snatched her hand back. “Noah Sterling, you are truly twisted. To frame your own brother, you would inflict this kind of harm on yourself.” Her voice was cold. “Go to the hospital on your own. And don’t worry, the Sterling family won’t tolerate a cripple. We’ll find the best doctors to fix your leg.” I knew nothing I said would matter. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stand. “I just have a few things to say. Then I’ll leave.” I looked straight at Molly. “From the very beginning, our entire relationship was just a bet between you and your friends. You never had any real feelings for me, did you?” 4 “That’s right,” she said without hesitation. Tears streamed down my face. I once thought I was the luckiest person in the world, with a loving family and a partner who cherished me. It was all an illusion, a reflection on water, shattered with a single touch. I could have chosen to stay in this world forever, with this family. But now, my resolve to go back was absolute. “One last question,” I said, my voice hoarse. “You had already won the bet. Why did you wait until our wedding day to tell me the truth?” “Because Jason was afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle it,” she replied. “He asked me to keep it from you.” I laughed, a loud, ragged sound. “How kind of him! My dear brother, so worried about my feelings that he waited until my wedding day to reveal it was all a game. Making me stand here in a suit like a fool, watching you two get married… that wasn’t meant to humiliate me at all, was it?” “Nonsense!” Claire snapped. “Jason is not that manipulative!” “Not that manipulative?” I shot back with a bitter smile. “Since he came home, he’s faked suicide attempts no less than a hundred times. And how many of those times did he actually die? Someone who truly wants to die doesn’t need to be rescued!” “Shut your mouth! How dare you speak about your brother that way!” My father raised his hand to strike me again, but my mother stopped him. “That’s enough! Noah is badly hurt, don’t hit him!” “Dad,” I cried out, “I’m your son too! The son you raised and doted on for eighteen years. Just because I’m not your biological child, does that mean I don’t deserve your trust?” “You stand there and claim your brother had you beaten! Do you expect me to believe such a ridiculous lie?” At the accusation, Jason immediately had one of his “episodes.” He clutched his chest and stumbled backward. “Noah, how could you slander me like this? Are you trying to drive me to my death?”

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As this year’s scholarship student at the prestigious Northwood Academy, my hands trembled as I clutched the tuition waiver. Not only were tuition and fees completely covered, but I also received a $5,000 annual stipend. The library’s leather armchairs, the gym’s imported equipment, even the rooftop sky garden—all were open to me. But the cafeteria was the biggest shock. Scholarship students got a 50% discount, yet the quality was astounding. The beef noodle soup was topped with A5 Wagyu, the lobster pasta came with a whole Boston lobster, and even the spicy turkey noodles had generous chunks of slow-roasted turkey. Sitting in the bright, airy classroom, surrounded by trust-fund kids in bespoke uniforms and designer watches, I had only one thought: I have to get on their good side. But my deskmate, the other scholarship student, shared none of my excitement. In fact, the look she gave our classmates was filled with undisguised contempt. After morning study hall, one of the rich kids, Ethan Sterling, walked up to our desk. His tone wasn’t exactly friendly, but he wasn’t arrogant either. “Hey, either of you free to grab me some breakfast from the cafeteria?” I was about to say yes when a sharp voice exploded next to me. “God, you’re so annoying! You think you’re hot stuff just because you have some dirty money?” my deskmate, Sarah, spat out. “If I’d known this class was full of useless, freeloading rich kids like you, I would have rather died than come here!” 1 The classroom went so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The casual air around Ethan vanished, and his face darkened like a thundercloud. I scrambled to my feet, tugging on Sarah’s sleeve while forcing a smile at Ethan. “Uh… Mr. Sterling, I’ll go! I can get it for you!” Ethan’s expression softened slightly. He pulled out his phone and scanned my QR code. “I’ll message you what I want.” I clutched my phone, ready to go, but Sarah grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my flesh. “Are you crazy? You’re really going to be an errand girl for some spoiled brat?” “What else am I supposed to do?” I snapped, shaking her hand off. “If you don’t want to do it, you can’t stop me.” Her face flushed red, then paled. She stuck her chin out. “Unlike you, I have some self-respect! I came here to learn, not to wait on a bunch of parasites!” That was the last straw for Ethan. He took a step forward, looming over Sarah, his voice dripping with ice. “You don’t like it? Then get out. You think your free tuition and your stipend just fell from the sky? The money that we ‘parasites’ donate to this school every year could pay your tuition for the next decade.” He pointed a finger at her backpack—a custom model the school provided for scholarship students, three times more expensive than the standard issue. “Everything you’re wearing, everything you’re using—it’s all paid for by the ‘dirty money’ you despise so much. A little late to be playing the righteous saint, don’t you think?” Sarah’s lips trembled, but her eyes were still defiant. “I came here for the faculty! If it weren’t for the top-tier professors, who would want to be in a place like this? No matter how much money you donate, it won’t change the fact that you’re all a bunch of brainless idiots!” Seeing her so utterly clueless, I finally lost my patience. My voice turned cold. “Sarah, have you no shame? The school gives you a full ride and a stipend, and instead of being grateful, you’re here making a scene? Get out of my way, or I won’t be so polite.” She bit her lip so hard it turned white, tears welling in her eyes but refusing to fall. She violently shoved my hand away, grabbed her backpack, and stormed towards the door. As she passed Ethan, she threw one last parting shot. “Being in the same room as you people makes me feel sick!” The door slammed shut. I quickly turned to the other students, an apologetic smile plastered on my face. “Please, don’t mind her. She’s just… confused. I have nothing to do with her! I’m going to get Mr. Sterling’s breakfast right now, I’ll be quick!” With that, I clutched my phone and ran to the cafeteria. I couldn’t let that ungrateful brat ruin the one chance I had. 2 I’m the eldest daughter. I also have a younger brother who is a bottomless pit of need. On my eighteenth birthday, my first-ever present was the news that I was to be married off to an old, crippled man from my hometown. The night I escaped through my bedroom window, all I had was my brother’s old, discarded iPhone 11. The screen was cracked and the battery was shot. While waiting for my final exam scores, I washed dishes in a restaurant until my fingers were pale and wrinkled. The day scores were released, I sat in an internet café. When the words “Top 1% score, eligible for Ivy League universities” flashed on the screen, I felt no joy, only a tightening in my throat. No matter how high my scores were, I had no money for tuition and no home to return to. Then one day, I received a text from an unknown number. It was a scholarship invitation from Northwood Academy: full tuition, all fees covered, and a $5,000 annual stipend. I stared at the screen for a long time, and then the tears started to fall. It wasn’t an invitation; it was a lifeline. That’s why I couldn’t understand Sarah. We were both here because of the school’s generosity, yet she treated the very people who gave us this opportunity like enemies, hurling venomous words at them like daggers. I ran back to the classroom with Ethan’s breakfast just as the bell rang. My hands trembled as I held the sandwich and hot milk, terrified he’d be angry that I was late. But when he took it, he just said softly, “Thanks. I appreciate it.” In that moment, all the anxiety and frustration from the morning seemed to melt away. After class, my phone buzzed. It was a $100 payment from Ethan for the errand. I stared at the number and couldn’t help but let out a laugh. It was more than I made in three days of washing dishes. I was one step closer to making it through college. But my laughter was cut short. A hand shot out, snatched my phone, and slammed it onto the floor with a sickening crack. The already-fractured screen spiderwebbed completely, just like the fragile hope I had just begun to feel, shattered in an instant. The sharp sound cut through the classroom chatter, and the room fell silent. I snapped my head up. Sarah stood before me, her eyes glinting like ice, her foot grinding my shattered phone into the floor as if crushing something filthy. “Sarah, what the hell is wrong with you?!” I lunged to pick up my phone, but she shoved me hard. I stumbled back, my spine hitting the corner of a desk, and I gasped in pain. She looked down at me, a cruel smile on her face. “Crazy? I think you’re the one who’s crazy! Selling yourself out as a gopher for these rich kids for a few miserable dollars. Have you no shame?” She pointed at the transaction notification still visible on the shattered screen, her voice sharp and shrill. “A hundred bucks makes you this happy? Wouldn’t your parents be ashamed to know you’re here acting like someone’s servant?” Her words stabbed me like a needle. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, my voice trembling with rage. “What’s wrong with being a servant? I’m earning money with my own two hands. I’m not stealing or begging. That’s a hundred times better than an ungrateful leech like you who takes the school’s charity and then insults everyone!” “Charity?” Sarah laughed as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. Tears of mirth welled in her eyes. “You call this charity? They’re just using us as props to show off how benevolent they are! You think these arrogant rich kids actually respect you? He just sees you as an obedient little doormat!” She grew more agitated, reaching out to push me again. I dodged, but stumbled into a nearby desk, sending a pile of books scattering across the floor. “Sarah, don’t push it!” I yelled, gathering the books and glaring at her. “I don’t care what you think. I just want to study and earn my keep. I don’t want to be like you, wallowing in self-pity and blaming the world for your problems!” Sarah’s face was beet red, her eyes burning with anger and resentment. She opened her mouth to say something else, but was cut off by a sudden voice. “What is going on here?” I turned to see our professor walking over, frowning. He saw the shattered phone and the scattered books, and his expression hardened. “The bell is about to ring and you two are still causing a scene? Get to your seats. Now.” Sarah shot me a venomous glare before reluctantly returning to her desk. I knelt and carefully picked up the pieces of my phone. The screen was destroyed, the display underneath bleeding pixels. I bit my lip, stuffed the broken phone in my pocket, and went back to my seat. Sarah was silent for the rest of the day, but I could feel her eyes on me. The disdain was still there, now mixed with a heavy dose of hatred. 3 Just as the last class of the day ended, a brand-new iPhone box landed on my desk. I looked up to see Isabelle Sedgwick—heiress to the Sedgwick real estate empire. She was the class ice queen, someone who rarely spoke more than a few words to anyone, always dressed in a new Chanel suit. “This is for you,” Isabelle said, her arms crossed, chin slightly raised. Her tone wasn’t warm, but it lacked its usual frosty arrogance. “Your phone broke this morning, right? I had a spare.” I was stunned. I quickly pushed the box back towards her. “Miss Sedgwick, I can’t possibly accept this, I—” “Enough. I don’t want to hear you refuse,” she cut me off, tapping a manicured finger on the box. “It’s not a gift. I’m going to Milan for Fashion Week next week. I need you to do this week’s assignments for me. This new iPhone 17 is your payment.” My heart hammered with a mixture of shock and joy. I clutched the edge of the box and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do them. Thank you for the phone.” Isabelle raised an eyebrow. As she turned to leave, the hem of her skirt brushed against my desk, leaving behind a faint, expensive perfume. “I need the assignments by tomorrow morning. Make sure the quality is good.” The next morning, I handed the completed homework to Isabelle. She glanced through a few pages, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a rare, small smile. She took them without another word. But when I came back from the restroom, a sharp voice accosted me. “Well, well. Crying over a broken phone yesterday, and flaunting the latest model today? You move fast.” Sarah stood in front of me, arms crossed, her eyes like poisoned needles fixed on the corner of the new phone peeking out of my pocket. Before I could speak, she yelped and lurched towards me. The thermos in her hand tilted, and scalding hot water splashed all over my arm. “Hiss—!” The searing pain shot up my arm. I jumped back, a large patch of my uniform soaked through. “Sarah, are you insane?!” She ignored my reddening skin and stepped closer, raising her voice so everyone could hear. “Leah Ross, you take the school’s financial aid, then you turn around and accept expensive gifts from the rich kids. Aren’t you afraid of losing your scholarship?” All eyes in the hallway turned to us. I clenched my fists, forcing down my anger. “This was payment for helping Isabelle with her homework. It was earned. It’s none of your business.” “Earned?” she sneered. Her tone shifted, becoming sinister. “Or is ‘helping’ just an excuse? Have you already forgotten you’re a poor student? Forgotten about the parents waiting for you back home?” That last line was a knife to the heart. I pointed a trembling finger at her, my voice shaking but every word clear. “Sarah, you leave my parents out of this! Just because your own heart is dark and twisted doesn’t mean everyone else’s is! Why are you always targeting me?” She took a step back, her face pale, but she refused to back down. “I just can’t stand sycophants! You’re using your scholarship status as a stepping stone. You’re more disgusting than they are!” “You can’t stand it?” I suddenly laughed, my voice dripping with scorn. “Then you can leave. No one is stopping you. Why aren’t you at one of those top-tier universities you’re always talking about? Oh, right.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “I forgot. Your final exam score was a full thirty points lower than mine. You couldn’t get in. So you’re stuck here, green with envy every time you see someone doing better than you. Isn’t that right?” My words hit her like a slap. Her face went from red to white to a mottled purple. I could hear the other students whispering. The veins on the hand clutching her thermos bulged, but she couldn’t utter a single word in her defense. Finally, she shot me one last, hateful look, and fled. As she passed Isabelle, she flinched but didn’t dare stop, practically running away. I watched her go, the burning pain on my arm a dull throb. But my eyes were cold. If Sarah was going to keep trying to ruin my life, then she couldn’t be allowed to stay. 4 At lunch, I felt eyes on my back. I saw a few people pointing their phones at me, the flashing lenses making me uneasy. Just then, my new phone buzzed with a notification for a trending social media post. The title stung my eyes: Exposing the Truth About Northwood Academy’s Gold-Digging Scholarship Student. The post detailed how I, a scholarship student, was using the latest iPhone 17 Pro Max. It claimed I wasn’t focused on my studies, only on sucking up to my wealthy classmates. It even alleged that I had enrolled in the academy without my parents’ permission, implying I had long planned to use the rich kids to escape my background. I stared at the screen, my fingertips turning to ice. The phrase “without my parents’ permission” was a dagger. Since running away, I hadn’t dared to call home once. The post was deliberately designed to brand me as ungrateful and selfish. The comments were even worse: [Takes financial aid but sucks up to rich kids. What a disgrace to actual poor students! Shouldn’t school be about studying?] [They should revoke her scholarship. Her intentions are clearly not pure. She’s probably trying to become some rich guy’s mistress.] [She even hid it from her parents? Why would she do that unless she’s up to something shady? This needs to be investigated!] [I wonder if she’d sleep with me for $500?] [Lmao $500 is too much. I bet $200 would do it!] … A sharp voice snapped me out of my trance. I looked up to see Sarah standing at my table, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Well, if it isn’t our little social media celebrity.” She held her phone up to my face. The post had already surpassed ten thousand comments. “See that? The whole school, maybe even the whole world, knows what kind of person you are now.” She dragged a long nail across the vicious comments on her screen, her voice grating. “I believe the saying is ‘a rat in the street that everyone wants to beat.’ Sounds about right for you, doesn’t it?” My grip on my chopsticks tightened. I said nothing. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a low, mocking whisper. “If I were you, I’d pack my bags and get out now. In a couple of days, when the school administration sees this, you won’t just be expelled. Your reputation as a ‘poor student’ will be ruined forever. And when your parents find out about all the ‘good deeds’ you’ve been up to… I doubt they’ll even let you back in the house.” Her words hit my deepest fear. I looked up at her, and the smug satisfaction in her eyes was overflowing. She could already see me, expelled and despised by all. She turned on her heel, deliberately knocking over my bowl of soup as she left. The hot liquid soaked my pants, leaving a dark stain. She didn’t even look back, leaving me with a look of absolute victory, as if she already held the outcome of this drama in the palm of her hand. I looked down at my stained pants, my fingers slowly curling into a fist. A cold smile touched my lips. Enjoy it while you can, Sarah. You have half a day left. By tomorrow, you’ll learn what a real trial by public opinion feels like. The web you so carefully spun will only end up trapping you.

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I woke up in a hospital, staring at a handsome stranger. He was rattling on about something, a stream of words that made no sense. My mind was a fog. It wasn’t until he said we’d have to postpone getting the license that my brain finally clicked back online. “What license?” I asked, my voice raspy. “The marriage license, Nora. Did you hit your head that hard?” He reached out to touch my forehead, the gesture unnervingly natural. Was he kidding me? I was a girl fresh out of high school, basking in the glory of my college acceptance letters. I wasn’t even old enough to legally marry. Who was this con artist? 1 “Doctor!” I shoved him away and craned my neck, shouting. “Doctor, help! There’s a creep in here!” A doctor rushed in, flanked by two nurses. Their presence was a shield. I ducked behind the kindly, white-haired doctor and pointed an accusing finger. “I don’t know this man! He’s trying to trick me into marrying him! He’s a kidnapper!” The handsome stranger just looked exasperated. “Nora, I know you’re upset. We’re just delaying the license, not canceling it. Isabella didn’t mean to hurt you, don’t hold it against her—” “My phone,” I cut him off, looking at the doctor. “I need to call my parents.” “Your parents?” The man frowned. “It’s not that serious. No need to worry them. It’s a long way from Riverbend, it’s not an easy trip for them.” My world tilted. “This… this isn’t Riverbend?” Now he looked as stunned as I felt. The doctor cleared his throat. “I was about to explain. The fall didn’t cause any serious external injuries, but she did hit her head. There’s some bruising that can affect memory.” “Affect memory?” I whispered. “Are you saying… I have amnesia?” The doctor nodded. “Yes. But don’t worry. As the bruising subsides, your memories should gradually return.” “How long will that take?” the stranger asked. “It’s hard to say. It could be a few months, or it could be a year or two.” I noticed the handsome stranger let out a subtle, almost imperceptible sigh of relief. After the doctor left, he picked up a woman’s handbag from a nearby chair, pulled out a phone, and handed it to me. “Since you’ve lost your memory, we can put the wedding on hold. But I really am your boyfriend. See for yourself. Check the photos on your phone.” I lit up the screen. The first thing I saw was the date, blazing in the center. 2025. My last memory was the dizzying excitement of checking my final grades after graduation. Six years had passed. 2 My gaze shifted to the lock screen photo. It was a close-up selfie of me and the stranger, our cheeks pressed together. I unlocked the phone and opened the photo gallery. It was filled with pictures of him. From the angles, most of them were candid shots, clearly taken without him knowing. There he was, mid-jump on a basketball court; his profile as he drank from a water bottle; his face peaceful as he slept, head down on a desk… “Wow, you took a lot of secret pictures of me,” he said, leaning over my shoulder with a smug tone. “See? Now do you believe we’re a couple?” I pushed him away, my face a blank mask. “I have zero memory of you. Stay away from me.” “Fine, let me introduce myself.” His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and a flicker of delight crossed his face. He started typing a reply, his attention glued to the screen as he spoke, his tone casual. “I’m Asher Vance. And you’re my girlfriend, the one who chased me relentlessly for a year before I finally gave in…” In a few short sentences, he painted a picture of my last few years. Apparently, the moment I stepped onto the campus of Northwood University, I’d set my sights on him, the resident rich boy, and became his pathetic shadow. I followed him everywhere, immune to his attempts to brush me off. I hung on his every word. My pursuit was loud, bold, and shameless. Everyone at Northwood knew who I was. After more than a year of this obsessive chase, it actually worked. Asher, the campus playboy, after a string of short-lived flings and a trail of broken hearts, had finally agreed to be my boyfriend. The entire student body placed bets on how long it would take for him to dump me. But a month passed. Then a year, and another. We graduated, and we were still together. In fact, just recently, after I’d finished my master’s degree, Asher had accepted my marriage proposal. He, who never posted anything personal, had made a grand announcement on his social media about us getting our marriage license. Yesterday, we’d gone to City Hall. Right at the entrance, someone had called his name. It was his childhood friend, Isabella, who had been studying abroad for years. She’d bitten her lip, tugging on his arm. “Asher, please, can you not get married?” I’d gotten angry. We argued. In the ensuing scuffle, she tripped me. My head slammed against the stone steps, and I blacked out. When I came to, I was this new, memory-wiped version of myself. Asher was still engrossed in his phone, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Isabella didn’t do it on purpose. And you’re fine, just a little amnesia. No need to be so dramatic.” “She’s coming to visit you later, so be nice. Try to be a bigger person.” “And for the record, we just grew up together. She’s like a sister to me, so stop being so jealous all the time.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Did you forget? I have amnesia.” “Right now, you’re a complete stranger to me. Why on earth would I be jealous?” Asher pocketed his phone and leaned in close, his eyes full of arrogant certainty. “You fell for me at first sight. You told me my face was sculpted exactly to your tastes.” “So don’t worry,” he whispered. “You’ll fall in love with me all over again.” 3 I stared at the face so close to mine. Sharp, almond-shaped eyes, a high-bridged nose, thin lips, and a jawline that could cut glass. A rebellious glint in his eyes. He looked like a bad boy straight out of a graphic novel. He was definitely handsome. But “sculpted exactly to my tastes”? That was a stretch. He fit my aesthetic, sure. He was a good-looking guy. But my taste in men wasn’t a monolith. I liked sharp eyes, but I also liked playful, fox-like eyes. Strong brows and big eyes were great, but so were the intense gazes of men with monolids. I found fair-skinned, boy-next-door types charming, but I also had a thing for rugged men with sun-kissed skin. There was no way I would become some obsessed fangirl just because of Asher’s looks. I knew, deep down, that his face alone wasn’t powerful enough to captivate me like that. As I was lost in thought, studying his features, a melodic voice floated from the doorway. “What are you two doing?” I snapped back to reality. Asher immediately straightened up, taking two quick steps back, putting a careful distance between us. He turned to the door. “Isabella! You’re here.” He took the fruit basket from her hands and placed it on the bedside table. “See, Nora? Isabella even brought you fruit. Stop being so petty.” The girl, Isabella, wore a floral sundress that highlighted her tall, slender frame. Her wavy hair cascaded down to her waist, her makeup was flawless, and a pair of rimless glasses gave her an air of elegant intelligence. “Nora, I’m so sorry. Yesterday was all my fault. I’m so sorry you got hurt.” She gracefully glided to my bedside on her stiletto heels. Before I could say a word, she continued, her voice a soft, concerned murmur. “I really didn’t mean to. I was just in a panic. I didn’t want to ruin your marriage, but my godmother specifically asked me to stop you.” “You have to understand her position. The Vance family is incredibly influential. There are always people trying to get close for the wrong reasons. She’s just worried you’re only with Asher for his money.” “I didn’t want you to get married yet either, but for a different reason,” she went on, a model of reason and grace. “Marriage is a serious commitment. At the very least, your parents should meet, don’t you think? Rushing off to City Hall without involving your families feels a bit… childish, doesn’t it?” “And Nora, I know his mother refuses to meet you, but for Asher’s sake, you should really try harder to win her approval. There’s no shame in humbling yourself for love, in trying to win over your future mother-in-law.” “How could you not even try, and just convince Asher to elope like that?” “And one more thing, I need to be clear. Even though my godmother has tried to set me up with Asher more than once, I only see him as a little brother. I have no other feelings for him.” I swallowed hard. Holy crap. That was a lot of information to unpack. 4 My mind raced, filtering through the layers of Isabella’s speech. First: Asher wasn’t just some rich kid. His family was loaded. Rich enough to create a class divide between them and my middle-class family. Second: Our relationship didn’t have the blessing of either set of parents. His mother, in particular, suspected I was a gold digger and had actively refused to meet me. Finally: Isabella was subtly flaunting her special connection to the Vance family. She and Asher were childhood friends, likely from similar, wealthy backgrounds. Most importantly, Asher’s mother was her godmother. They were close. Mrs. Vance had always wanted Isabella for a daughter-in-law. In just a few sentences, she’d managed to issue a challenge and broadcast her superiority. This Isabella was no simple girl. “Don’t worry, Isabella. She has amnesia now. She doesn’t even remember who I am. We won’t be getting married anytime soon,” Asher said, his eyes fixed on Isabella, drinking her in as if he couldn’t get enough. Isabella shot him a playful glare. “I’ve told you a million times, call me Bella. I’m older than you!” “By a few months, who cares?” Asher grinned. “I’m gonna call you Isabella. What are you gonna do about it?” It was like watching a puppy fawning over its owner. Usually, I loved watching couples flirt, but this just made my skin crawl. Right now, all I wanted was for both of them to get out of my sight. “I need to rest. You should both go,” I said, making it clear they should leave. Isabella’s lip trembled. “Nora, do you dislike me? If you do, I’ll leave right now.” Asher grabbed her arm as she turned. “You’re overthinking it. She’s probably just tired. We’ll let her sleep.” Without another word to me, his supposed girlfriend, he led his childhood friend out of the room. As if I could possibly sleep after being unconscious for over ten hours. Still, their departure was exactly what I wanted. I picked up my phone, determined to figure out what was really going on. Because I didn’t believe a single word Asher had said. I’d quickly scrolled through the photos earlier. Most were pictures I’d taken of him, but there were a few of us together. In every single one, including the selfie on the lock screen, I was smiling. And that was the problem. I never just smiled for photos. I grinned. A wide, toothy, unapologetic grin. The one person who knew me best was myself. And looking at those photos, I could see it. Those smiles weren’t real. They were forced. I was putting on a performance. I was acting happy for someone else’s benefit. 5 And there was one more thing. The most important thing. I was already in love with someone. Asher had his childhood friend, Isabella. And I had my own. Justin Hayes. He was the boy I grew up with. My partner-in-crime, my big brother, my best friend. My entire life was woven with threads of him. He was the genius, the straight-A student, the kid all the parents compared theirs to. He was the star that shone brightly wherever he went, the one you could spot instantly in any crowd. He was the one who patiently tutored me until I aced my final exams. He was the boy I’d started falling for the moment my heart learned how. And he loved me back. We had a plan. We were going to the same university. The moment we got there, we would finally, freely, be together. With someone like him illuminating my entire youth, how could I possibly have fallen for anyone else? I took the phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. A recorded voice answered: “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.” Impossible. Like a madwoman, I dialed it again. And again. And again. Each time, the same mechanical voice met my frantic hope. How could it be? The number I’d called a thousand times, the number etched into my soul, was gone? I went back to the photo gallery, scrolling through every single picture from the past six years. Nothing but that stranger, Asher. I checked my notes, my calendar, the university network, every messaging app I could find. Starting from my freshman year, six years ago, my life was completely dominated by Asher Vance. There was no trace of Justin Hayes. It was as if my brilliant, wonderful Justin had simply vanished from existence. Right. My parents. I called my mom. “Nora? Honey, did you get all your graduation paperwork sorted? When are you coming home?” Thank god. It was her familiar, comforting voice. Before I could answer, she kept talking. “If you haven’t found a job yet, don’t rush it. Come home, relax for a while, then you can start looking.” “And that boyfriend of yours… you’ve been together a few years now, right? You should bring him home to meet us sometime.” “We’ve asked a few times, but you always have an excuse. What’s the deal? Is he not willing to come visit?” So, after years together, neither of us had met the other’s parents. His parents looked down on me, and either Asher didn’t want to meet mine, or… I didn’t want him to. My mom was still on the line, asking if I was okay, if I’d lost more weight, telling me to stop dieting. “Mom,” I interrupted suddenly. “Where did Justin go?” The chatter on the other end of the line stopped cold. 6 After a long pause, my mom finally seemed to place the name. “Justin? Why are you suddenly asking about him? Didn’t his whole family move abroad?” “The Hayes were always like that. They move overseas and it’s like they fell off the face of the earth. They haven’t been back to visit in years.” “We’ve completely lost touch.” “You know, when you were kids, you and Justin were inseparable. We all thought you two would end up together.” “Then you went off to college and fell for someone else, and the Hayes family just packed up and left.” “It’s such a shame. I always really liked Justin. If he were my son-in-law, I’d be a hundred percent happy.” So, my mom didn’t know what happened between us either. I mumbled a few absentminded words and hung up. Lying in the hospital bed, I tried to piece together the last few years. The day my final grades were posted, I was ecstatic. I ran to find Justin, to tell him we could go to the same university. My memory ends on the street leading to his house. The next thing I know, it’s six years later. I have a master’s degree. And apparently, from the moment I started college, I fell head over heels for a guy named Asher Vance, acting like a crazy person for him. I shamelessly chased him for a year until he became my boyfriend. Judging by Asher’s condescending tone, I was clearly the one in the subordinate position in our relationship. I couldn’t understand it. Even if I had moved on from Justin, my brain was still intact. Why would I do something so stupid? What happened six years ago to turn me into… this? Could someone have… body-swapped with me? No, that didn’t make sense. I’d seen handwritten class notes in my phone’s photo gallery. The handwriting was identical to mine. The way I used different colored highlighters for different topics—that was my habit. It was clear I’d taken my graduate studies seriously; I hadn’t let my supposed love life derail my education. My chat history with my thesis advisor was full of praise for my work. That, at least, was a relief. But if I ruled out something as absurd as a body-swap, how else could I explain the madness of the last six years? Just then, I needed to use the restroom. I got up and walked into the small bathroom. The first thing I saw was my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I froze. The face was mine, but why was I so thin? No wonder my mom had asked if I’d lost more weight. She used to be the one telling me to eat less, that I was getting chubby. I’d never been fat, but I was never skinny either. I had a round face with baby fat. My skin was fair, my cheeks rosy. Justin used to say my face looked like a peeled, hard-boiled egg—smooth and bouncy. But now? My cheeks were sunken. My arms were like twigs. Did Asher like skinny girls? Did I lose all this weight for him? The willpower that would have taken… I couldn’t imagine it. I’d always been a foodie. I loved snacks, barbecue, cake, desserts, and bubble tea. Could I really have given all that up for Asher? It was insane. I couldn’t believe I was capable of that. I walked over to the toilet and pulled down my pajama pants. Looking at my thighs, I froze again. This wasn’t just about weight loss. My thighs were a roadmap of scars, old and new, crisscrossing in a pattern of forgotten pain. I’d been self-harming. 7 “Miss Lynn, you can’t be discharged yet! You have an IV drip scheduled for this afternoon!” a young nurse called out, chasing after me. “I have something important to do, I’ll be back later!” I waved back at her as I ran. My phone’s shopping apps had my address saved. I’d been renting an apartment on the Northwood campus. Even though I’d graduated, a recent order was still being sent there, so I knew I hadn’t moved out yet. I hailed a cab and headed straight there. The keys were in my purse. The moment I walked in, I knew it was my place. The decor, the potted plants, the stuffed animals, the snacks in the fridge—they were all my favorites. The clothes in the closet were all styles I would choose. It was more proof. For the past six years, that person had been me. No body-swapping. I went to my desk and, following my old organizing habits, started searching through the drawers. Finally, inside a file folder, I found it: a stack of medical records. Over the past few years, I’d been seeing a therapist. More than one, actually. The diagnosis was moderate depression and self-harm tendencies. The doctor’s notes concluded: Patient is uncooperative and refuses to discuss the root of her issues, making a definitive cause for her condition impossible to determine. So, I was depressed, I was hurting myself, and I knew something was wrong enough to seek professional help. But when I was face-to-face with a doctor, I clammed up. I refused to talk, preventing them from diagnosing me properly, which meant they couldn’t treat me effectively. It was a contradiction. If I was going to a therapist, I must have wanted to save myself. Why wouldn’t I tell them everything? Was someone… or something… stopping me from talking? I had to find out what happened over these last six years. I called my mom and asked her to take pictures of every page of my high school yearbook and send them to me. Back at the hospital, I sat on my bed and started calling my old high school classmates, one by one. I asked if any of them were in touch with Justin Hayes. I even called my old homeroom teacher and all my other teachers. But it was a dead end. No one knew where he was. That evening, Asher called. He said he was busy but had arranged for his family’s housekeeper to bring me dinner. He didn’t show up for the next two days. But like clockwork, three meals a day were delivered to my room. By the time I was discharged, I still hadn’t seen him again. Back at my apartment near Northwood, I spent a whole day wandering the campus. This was the place Justin and I were supposed to come to together. We’d promised each other we’d both get in, and then we’d finally start our life as a couple. But in the end, I was the only one who came. Why didn’t he keep his promise? If he didn’t come to Northwood, why did he have to go abroad? Why did he just disappear? What had happened to him?

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The day after my mom’s latest marriage ultimatum, I dumped my boyfriend of five years and, armed with my resume, stormed the park’s matchmaking corner. My best friend was baffled. “I thought you said Alex was your rock? Why wouldn’t you marry him?” I scanned the single men’s profiles, not even looking up. “That rock is only steady for the new girl. As his ex, I’m just old news.” A second later, Alex caught up to me, his voice tight with anger. “I told you I just see her as a little sister. You’re breaking up with me over this?” 1 I ignored him, reaching for the resume in his hand. It was the only “normal” one I’d found after two hours of searching. 32 years old, university professor, no bad habits, stable family, and most importantly: an only child. No little sister in need of constant emotional support. Alex lifted his hand just out of my reach. The silver cufflinks on his wrist were a birthday gift from me last year. “Nora, stop messing around.” His jaw was clenched, a clear sign he was reining in his temper. I smiled, pointing to the park’s entrance sign. “Mr. Hayes, this is a matchmaking event. It’s all about first impressions and efficiency. You’re scaring off my future husband.” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the thin sheet of paper. “You’d throw away five years for a man you don’t even know?” “It’s not for him. It’s for me.” My smile vanished. I looked at him calmly. “Alex, I’m done getting 3 AM calls because Kathy got harassed at a bar again and needs you to come ‘rescue’ her.” “I’m done with you ditching me at a restaurant on our anniversary to go comfort a heartbroken Kathy.” “And I’m especially done hearing you say, over and over, that she’s just a sister, that she’s fragile, that you’re all she has.” The color drained from Alex’s face. He opened his mouth, his throat working, but no words came out. A few of the older folks nearby had already pulled out their phones, whispering amongst themselves. “Such a handsome young man. What’s wrong with him that his girlfriend is leaving?” “Girls these days have such high standards.” Alex’s fist tightened. He valued his reputation above all else. And I wanted him to taste what it felt like to lose it, right here, where it mattered most to him. “Nora, let’s talk about this at home.” He grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. I didn’t fight him. I just looked past him. A girl in a white dress was running toward us, her eyes red and puffy with tears. “Alex, don’t be mad at Nora! It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have called you again!” Kathy had arrived. The switch for Alex’s “emotional stability” was flipped. He let go of me instantly, turning to steady her. “What’s wrong? I told you to wait for me at home.” “I was worried you and Nora would fight.” Kathy lowered her head, her voice choked with sobs, tears streaming down her face. “It’s all my fault.” As she spoke, she shot a glance at me from the corner of her eye. There was no apology in it. Only victory. I crossed my arms, a cold spectator to this masterclass in manipulative sisterly affection. Alex didn’t disappoint. He patted Kathy’s back gently, his voice softer and more tender than I had ever heard it in five years. “It has nothing to do with you. This is between her and me.” He didn’t even look at me again before turning and leading Kathy away. The resume of the “normal man” was crumpled in his fist and tossed into a nearby trash can. Just like our five years together. 2 My best friend’s call came while I was supervising a locksmith. “You’re seriously changing the locks? Aren’t you afraid Alex’s going to lose his mind when he gets back?” “He has a home, and a sister who needs her emotions stabilized. Why would he come back here?” I said into the phone, then to the locksmith, “Change everything—the keypad, the deadbolt, the whole system. I don’t want so much as a fly getting in here from now on.” The line was silent for a moment. “Nora, are you sure about this? It’s been five years…” I watched the locksmith remove the old cylinder, a sense of calm settling over me. Five years? What finally broke me wasn’t the length of our relationship. It was a night two weeks ago when my fever hit 102 degrees. I’d gotten food poisoning from some bad takeout. I was completely drained, vomiting, and felt like my brain was boiling. Shaking, I called Alex, my voice trembling. “Alex, I feel awful. I have a fever. Can you please take me to the hospital?” He was quick to agree. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right there. Leave the door unlocked for me.” I used my last ounce of strength to wait for him on the sofa. Just as I was about to pass out, my phone rang. It was Alex. Thinking he had arrived, I answered eagerly, only to be met with his apologetic tone. “Nora, listen… something’s come up with Kathy. She was watching a horror movie alone and got terrified. There’s a thunderstorm, and she called me, crying so hard she could barely breathe. You know how scared she gets.” In that moment, my heart felt like it had been plunged into ice water, freezing over inch by inch. “And?” I heard myself ask, my voice eerily calm and foreign. “I have to go check on her. I can’t leave her alone like that.” He paused, then said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “You need to be strong. Can you just grab a cab to the ER and check in? I’ll come find you as soon as she’s settled.” Be strong. Those two words were like a poisoned dagger, twisting deep into my heart. I hung up without another word. That night, I took a cab to the hospital alone, waited in line to register alone, and sat in the cold, sterile infusion room alone, watching the IV fluid drip, drip, drip. I was surrounded by patients with family and friends. I was the only one on my own. Alex never showed up. The next morning, a text finally arrived, accompanied by a picture of Kathy, sleeping peacefully. “Hey babe, Kathy was a wreck last night. I stayed with her to calm her down, just got her to sleep. How are you? Still at the hospital?” Staring at the screen, a new kind of clarity washed over me. Five years, and I was the one who always had to “be strong.” Kathy, on the other hand, was the fragile one who deserved unconditional comfort and care. My mother’s pressure to get married was just the spark. The bomb that obliterated every last fantasy and lingering attachment was that long, cold, six-hour night I spent alone in the hospital. “Nora? Are you still there?” my friend’s voice pulled me back. I snapped a picture of the old lock cylinder, posted it online with the caption: Out with the old, in with the new. Then I spoke into the phone. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” I put the phone on speaker and started gathering Alex’s things: his toothbrush, his towel, a few changes of clothes, and the cufflinks he was wearing yesterday. I stuffed everything into a black trash bag. Whether he did it on purpose or not didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that I had chosen myself. That was enough. The doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole. Alex was standing there, with a tear-streaked Kathy by his side. I didn’t open the door. Alex started punching in the passcode. The electronic lock beeped, “INCORRECT CODE,” over and over. His face grew darker with each failed attempt. Finally, he started pounding on the door. “Nora! Open the door! What the hell did you do to the lock?” I started recording a video through the peephole. Kathy pulled at his arm, crying. “Alex, don’t do this! She’s just angry. Let’s go for now.” “Go? She threw my stuff out! She’s trying to cut me off for good?” Alex kicked the door, the sound echoing through the hall. I calmly walked to the door and spoke through it. “Mr. Hayes, one more kick and I’m sending this video to your company’s HR department. I’ve even thought of a title: Rising Star Throws Public Tantrum. What’s the Story?” He froze. Silence. A few seconds later, Kathy’s tearful voice came through. “Nora, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at Alex. He just cares about you so much. I… I made you some homemade soup. I’ll just leave it here for you.” Their footsteps faded away. I opened the door. A thermos sat on the mat with a sticky note attached. Nora, five years is a long time. Don’t give up so easily. —Kathy Her handwriting was delicate, radiating a sweet, cloying scent of manipulation. I picked up the thermos, walked to the window, and opened it. I aimed for the dumpster below and let go. It soared in a perfect arc. Bullseye. Done. I dusted off my hands and went to take a shower. As the hot water washed over me, my phone buzzed incessantly on the counter. I didn’t need to look to know it was Alex. I let it ring. When I came out, toweling my hair, there were over twenty missed calls. The latest message was from Kathy. “Nora, how could you throw out the soup? It took me three hours to make. I know you don’t like me, but you can’t just trample on my feelings like that. Alex saw, and he’s really upset.” I stared at the message and laughed. Of course he was upset. I’d just destroyed the evidence he was going to use to prove his “innocence.” I didn’t reply. I just blocked both of them. And just like that, the world was quiet again. 3 The next day, with an updated personal profile in hand, I returned to the matchmaking corner. Alex had destroyed the professor’s resume, so today, I had to find someone even better. A man with gold-rimmed glasses and a gentle demeanor stopped me. “Excuse me, are you Nora Croft?” I nodded. “Hello, my name is Miles Archer. I was the, uh… the university professor whose resume was destroyed yesterday.” He gave a slightly embarrassed smile. “After I left, I got your number from Mrs. Gable, the event organizer, but my calls wouldn’t go through.” I remembered then that in my effort to avoid Alex, I had blocked all unknown numbers. “Oh, I’m sorry about that.” “It’s alright.” Miles’s gaze fell to the paper in my hand. “Back for another try?” I waved the sheet. “Looking for an efficient exit from singledom. Serious inquiries only.” He laughed. “Funny, so am I.” He gestured to a nearby café. “Would you mind talking in there? I have to admit, standing out here is making me a little nervous.” I saw the tips of his ears turn red and smiled. “Sure.” Miles was fascinating. He taught classical literature and spoke with a calm, measured cadence, but he had a way of saying things that hit my funny bone perfectly. We talked about everything from poetry to the philosophy of life, and it wasn’t awkward at all. “I get it, you know,” he said with a sigh when we got on the topic of the matchmaking event. “My family’s been pushing me too. Coming here myself is just more efficient.” He continued with a self-deprecating smile, “The last woman my mother set me up with insisted she was a ‘demure, traditional lady.’ When we met, she brought her entire extended family to ‘interview’ me.” “We’d barely spoken for two minutes before her aunt asked if I’d be willing to hand over my paycheck, and her cousin asked where I was planning to buy a house in the best school district.” “It felt like an interrogation. At the end, the ‘demure lady’ concluded that I was a nice guy, but my only flaw was that I seemed too quiet, and she was worried I wouldn’t be able to ‘keep her troublemaker brother in line’.” He mimicked their tones perfectly, making me laugh out loud. His story made him feel less like a set of qualifications on paper and more like a real person. We were both just two people, worn down by the bizarre logic of the modern dating world, trying to find a kindred spirit in the most direct way possible. My phone vibrated. I glanced at it. It was a picture message from an unknown number. It was a photo of Alex in a hospital bed, his left arm in a cast, his face pale. Kathy was sitting beside him, dutifully peeling an apple. A picture of domestic harmony. Beneath it was a line of text. “Nora, Alex was distracted looking for you and got into a car accident. The doctor said his arm is broken. Can you please come see him?” My face remained blank as I placed the phone screen-down on the table. Miles noticed the change in my expression. “Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing. Just spam.” I took a sip of my coffee, hiding the cold fury in my eyes. Alex, you really outdid yourself. You’d resort to faking an injury just to guilt me into coming back. “Miss Croft,” Miles said suddenly. “This may be forward of me, but I get the sense that you’re under a dark cloud right now.” I looked up at him. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I can see you’re not happy.” His gaze was sincere. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.” A warmth spread through my chest. Unlike Alex’s overbearing “I’ll fix this for you” attitude, Miles offered respect and equality. “Thank you, Miles,” I said, and I meant it. “But don’t worry. That cloud is about to disappear.” I was going to rip it apart myself. We talked until the café was about to close. Miles walked me to the entrance of my apartment complex. “I had a really wonderful time talking with you today,” he said, his figure elongated by the streetlight. “Me too.” “So… could we perhaps see each other again tomorrow?” he asked, a hopeful hesitation in his voice. I nodded. “Of course.” After saying goodbye, I turned and walked into the complex. Just as I reached my building, a dark figure lunged from the shadows and grabbed my arm. It was Alex. His right hand gripped me tightly, while his left was, indeed, in a cast, held in a sling around his neck. “Nora, you’ve really grown some claws,” he hissed, his eyes bloodshot. “I get in a car crash for you, and you’re out on a date with another man?”

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The entire Gates family could hear my thoughts. On the first day they brought me to their estate, they wired their adopted son a thirty-thousand-dollar allowance. They sent me two hundred. I complained silently. Are you kidding me? Two hundred? I make more than that working the line at the plant. As they waited, expressions of disdain on their faces, expecting me to grovel and beg for more, they heard my next thought. So, the great Gates dynasty gives their son a grand total of thirty thousand and two hundred dollars a month? That won’t even cover a square foot of thermal shielding. What’s the point of fighting over this paltry inheritance? We still haven’t met our KPI of thirty rockets for the year at the plant. I don’t have time for this rich-family soap opera. I should be building more rockets to defend against the aliens. 1 The moment my biological parents and I stepped through the mansion’s grand entrance, a boy threw himself to his knees in front of me. I jumped back, startled. But he crawled forward on his knees, tears streaming down his face. “It’s all my fault. I stole the life that should have been yours, Leo.” “I’m on my knees begging for your forgiveness. If you can’t forgive me… I’ll leave the Gates family and go back to the slums where I belong!” “I’ll do anything, as long as you’re not angry anymore!” In the opulent living room, my wealthy parents and three biological sisters immediately rushed to his side. My mother helped the boy, Ray, to his feet, her tone sharp with disapproval. “Leo, that’s enough. How could you treat your brother like that?” My father’s face was grim, his eyes burning with condemnation. My eldest sister, Victoria, scoffed. “Figures. Dragged up from the middle of nowhere. All he knows is herding cattle and screwing bolts on an assembly line. Of course he’d resort to cheap tricks to get attention.” I was too busy marveling at the mansion’s interior to hear a word they were saying. The Gatess are at the top of the private sector for advanced materials, so it makes sense they’d use cutting-edge stuff for their own home. Their anger vanished, replaced by confusion. They exchanged glances, then stared at me in shock. Good thing I listened to the director and took leave to come meet them. With me as the inside man, the plant won’t have to worry about material supplies anymore. My father frowned slightly. Victoria let out a disgusted snort but said nothing. My second sister, Seraphina, shot me a look that was suddenly sharp and wary. My third sister, Isabelle, glared at me. “I’m warning you,” she snapped, “we only have one brother, and that’s Ray. Don’t even think about competing with him for our affection, or for the family company.” My father cleared his throat and addressed me in a patronizing tone. “Leo, you’ve been working at a plant for a long time. It must be difficult adjusting to the lifestyle of a family like ours.” He tapped a few times on his phone. A moment later, the ancient flip phone in my pocket blared out in a clunky, robotic voice, “TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS RECEIVED.” “Take this for now,” my father said. “Once you’ve settled in, I’ll send you more.” He then turned to the teary-eyed Ray, his voice dripping with affection. “Ray, we raised you. You will always be a Gates. Nothing will ever change that.” “I’m raising your monthly allowance to thirty thousand, starting now. Consider it compensation for all this.” He immediately pulled out his phone to make the transfer. Ray’s tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. But he still had to put on a show, his gaze flicking toward me. “Oh, no, you can’t. You should give my allowance to Leo.” “After all, he’s had such a hard life, living in the countryside and working in a factory. He needs the money more than I do.” His gloating was obvious, but I just frowned. Is the Gates family this broke? Only thirty thousand for their son’s allowance? My father’s thumb froze over his phone screen. 2 Ray stared at him, confused. My eldest sister, Victoria, let out a cold laugh. “Forget thirty thousand. I doubt you’ve ever even seen ten thousand dollars in your life. Do you even understand the concept of money?” I was disappointed. Is thirty thousand a lot? It can’t even buy a square meter of thermal shielding. Our workshop’s weekly budget is more than that. The smile on Victoria’s face froze. Oh well. At least their family business is in advanced materials, even if they are a bit poor. I’ll ask Dad later if he can pull some strings and get his company to partner with our plant. They are my blood relatives, after all. Poor sales figures. Must save the Gates. After a long, awkward silence, the entire family, except for the oblivious Ray, had strange expressions on their faces. My father finished the transfer to Ray and stormed out of the living room, looking furious. After dinner, my mother led me to a small suite next to the first-floor dining room. “Leo,” she said coolly, “the upstairs bedrooms haven’t been prepared yet. You’ll have to make do with this for now.” Ray stood beside her, feigning concern. “Mom, this is the maid’s room. Is it really okay for Leo to stay here?” “Why don’t I give him my bedroom?” Before I could say anything, my mother shot that down. “Absolutely not! This cramped little room is for the lower class. I would never let you stay in a place like this.” I had to laugh. This family is something else. The maid’s room is too degrading for their precious adopted son, but it’s perfectly fine for their actual son. A flicker of embarrassment crossed my mother’s face. She shot me an angry look before turning back to Ray. “Leo grew up in the country. He’s used to dirt floors and no running water, or cramped factory dorms. The maid’s room is a huge step up for him.” “But you’re different, darling. You’ve had the best of everything your whole life. You wouldn’t last a night in here.” She was so moved by her own words she started to cry. Ray smiled magnanimously. “It’s okay, Mom. The bedroom was always meant to be his anyway.” Then his expression shifted to one of tragic self-pity. “I’ve been a usurper in this house for twenty years. It’s time I gave him back what’s rightfully his.” “Ray, don’t say that! You will always be my precious son…” The two of them went back and forth until they were clinging to each other, sobbing dramatically. 3 I surveyed the room meant for the “lower class.” You know, the soundproofing in here is pretty decent. Those two are wailing their hearts out, and I can’t hear a peep from Dad. It’s like he dropped dead out there. It is a little small, though. I won’t be able to move my equipment from the plant in here. Guess I’ll have to go back to the plant if I want to work overtime. What a pain. My mother’s crying stopped abruptly. Thinking about work made me anxious. I used my vacation days to come here. I’ve got a mountain of work piling up. I’ll have to work overtime for the next week straight, or I’ll never meet my KPI for the year. My mother was staring at me, the tears drying on her cheeks. She looked around the small room, a regretful expression on her face, lost in thought. The news that the Gates had found their long-lost son spread like wildfire through the city’s elite circles. Everyone was watching me and Ray, eager for the drama of the real and fake heirs tearing each other apart. To show that the family treated both sons equally, my father decided to throw a party in my honor. The funny thing was, nobody told me. That evening, after a long, hard day at the plant, I came home to a mansion transformed. The living room was filled with the city’s glamorous high society, all of whom turned to stare at me the moment I walked in. Their expressions ranged from surprise to pity to outright contempt. Ray’s voice boomed across the room. “Leo! Why on earth are you dressed like that for a party?” I looked over at him. He was styled to perfection, every hair in place, wearing a bespoke suit that made him stand out even among the well-dressed guests. He walked over to me, his voice laced with faux concern. “Didn’t you wear a suit? Don’t you like the one Mom and Dad picked out for you?” “If you want, you can borrow something from my closet.” His words were caring, but his eyes were overflowing with malicious glee. As expected, the guests started whispering. “So that’s the real Gates heir? He looks completely out of place.” “The Gates threw this party for him, and he shows up dressed like that? Is he trying to embarrass them on purpose?” I glanced around. My sister Isabelle was pretending not to know me, laughing with a group of guests. Seraphina stood a short distance away, watching the scene unfold without any intention of intervening. Victoria followed my parents as they approached, her expression thunderous. “Leo, what is wrong with you?” my mother hissed. “Look at what you’re wearing to an important event like this!” 4 I looked down at myself. The standard-issue shirt and cargo pants from the plant were durable and comfortable. I didn’t see a problem. So tired. So sleepy. I didn’t bust my ass all day screwing bolts together just to come home and act in their little play. The aliens are practically at our doorstep, and they’re still caught up in this family drama. I should have just stayed at the plant. With all the time they’re wasting on this charade, I could have run a few more simulations. My father forced a smile for the guests. “This is my son, Leo. We just brought him back from the country. He’s a bit naive. Please forgive him.” Ray quickly jumped in to “defend” me. “It’s my brother’s first time at a party like this. He doesn’t know any better. Please, don’t mind him.” But this only made the guests look at me with even more disdain. “I heard his adoptive parents were shepherds. He grew up with sheep. Looking at him now, it makes sense… he’s hardly suited for polite society.” “Not only that, I heard he’s just some factory worker with no education. Compared to him, Ray seems so much more like the real heir.” My parents’ faces grew darker with every whispered comment. Ray secretly smirked, then turned to my parents with a look of concern. “This party is for Leo. Mom, Dad, please don’t be mad at him.” Then, he deliberately changed the subject. “By the way, Leo, I heard you work at a big plant. Which one is it?” he asked, his tone deceptively innocent. “A lot of our friends are here tonight. Maybe your boss is even in the room!” Another wave of snickers went through the crowd. “He calls an electronics assembly line a ‘big plant’? Does this guy even know what a real corporation is?” “He’s from the country. It’s normal he wouldn’t know the difference.” “My company would never hire someone without even a high school diploma. It would tarnish our brand.” The whispers and laughter made my parents’ faces sink further. The entire family was glaring at me, blaming me for embarrassing them. Actually, Ray just gave me an idea. The Gates may be broke, but they’re well-connected. Satellite communications, remote sensing, new energy… if I could get the leaders of all these industries to partner with our plant, our production capacity would skyrocket. My KPI for the year would be saved. Our current planetary defense system isn’t strong enough. We need all the private sector support we can get. I looked around the room, my spirits lifting. I was about to introduce everyone to my work. 5 But Victoria rushed over and hissed at me, “Leo, stop making a fool of yourself and go change!” She grabbed my arm and practically dragged me toward the maid’s room, terrified I would do something else to tarnish the Gates name. At the door, she let go and warned me, “You stay in here and behave. Don’t you dare do anything else to embarrass this family!” “I’m going into politics someday. I can’t have any scandals.” “If you do anything that ruins my vetting process, I won’t be the only one you have to answer to. Mom and Dad will make you regret it.” I watched her frantic, angry display and thought to myself: This sister of mine has been trying to get into politics for seven years. At this point, a tortoise could’ve won an election. Surely the Gates aren’t so poor they can’t afford to get her a tutor? Victoria’s face went through several shades of red before she finally yelled, “You’re impossible! You know what? Just stay in here and think about what you’ve done. You’re not welcome at the party anyway!” She stormed out and locked the door from the outside. I had no idea what had set her off, but I was grateful for the quiet. It gave me time to review the day’s test data. But Ray, it seemed, was not done with his games. A few minutes later, I heard the lock click. He walked in, a cheerful smile on his face. “Leo, aren’t you changed yet? The guests are waiting for you.” With no one else around, the cunning in his eyes was on full display. He walked over to my desk and saw my data sheets. I instinctively tensed, covering the documents with my hands. This was classified information. Even a small leak could have serious consequences. “What’s all this, Leo?” he asked, reaching for the papers. I held them down firmly. “Are you hiding something you don’t want people to see?” Ray glanced toward the door, confirming something, and his expression hardened. The friendly act was over. He lunged for the papers on my desk. “Give them to me!” I reacted instantly, slamming my hands down on the stack of documents. He grabbed them, his eyes glinting with a sinister light. The papers crumpled in his grasp. My heart bled. You absolute moron, I cursed inwardly. “Ray, are you insane?” He was about to rip the papers from my grasp. I couldn’t stop myself—I kicked out, hard. But just as my foot made contact, he suddenly let go, allowing himself to be thrown backward by the force. I didn’t miss the strange, triumphant smirk on his face as he flew through the air. “Ray!” The moment I heard my mother’s shriek, I knew what his plan had been all along. Victoria, my parents, and a crowd of guests arrived just in time to see Ray go flying across the room. Victoria yelled, “Leo! What are you doing?!”

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A custom order arrived on our wedding anniversary. When I saw my husband’s name on the form, a knowing smile crossed my lips—another of his signature surprises. People try to trap forever in jewels, forgetting forever often changes. Just like now. One second, I was looking at photos of the anniversary venue Marc had set up. The next, a young woman with hopeful eyes walked into my office, shyly handing me a sketch. My pen dug sharply into the paper. That order… wasn’t from Marc after all. “Are you Sierra? I booked online,” she said. “I want to commission wedding rings. My boyfriend’s free at month’s end—I need them ready then.” I relaxed my clenched fist and gestured for her to go on. “His name’s Marc. I want it engraved inside the band,” she added, blushing softly. “Bellflowers are his favorite—they mean eternal love. Can you add them?” Staring at the familiar details, I let out a bitter laugh. I’d learned my own husband’s preferences from a stranger. Turns out, my anniversary surprise was designing wedding rings for him and his new love. 1 I set the sketch down, my gaze lingering on the girl across from me. She had a gentle, almost timid air about her—the complete opposite of my own bright, assertive presence. She was young, radiating a naive innocence that suggested she hadn’t yet been hardened by the world. And yet, she clearly had a grasp of right and wrong. When she mentioned the delivery date, her voice faltered, and her eyes flickered away, a clear sign she was wrestling with how to phrase what came next. Perhaps sensing my scrutiny, she rushed to explain, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. “Miss Hayes, please don’t get the wrong idea.” “My boyfriend… well, his situation is complicated. His ex-wife is in prison for financial crimes. He didn’t want to kick her while she was down, you know, being married and all, so he’s waited until now.” She spoke with such heartfelt sincerity, her every word dripping with adoration and sympathy for this man. Prison? What a convenient excuse. If it weren’t for the pity in her tone, I’d almost think she was mocking me. I nodded slowly, a cold smile tugging at my lips. “Miss… Chloe, was it? Would you mind telling me a bit about your love story?” She looked bewildered, clearly not understanding my request. I sighed internally. Was this what Marc liked? This doe-eyed, easily manipulated innocence? I tapped the drawing on my desk. “These elements alone will make for a rather generic design,” I explained, my voice smooth and professional. “If you can share some of your most cherished moments together, I can weave those personal touches into the rings.” Understanding finally dawned on Chloe’s face, followed by a shy smile. She began to recount her story, listing their memories like precious treasures. I listened, my face frozen in a professional mask, punishing myself with every word. “Tomorrow will be our two-year anniversary. We met at a police station. His family was in some trouble, and he was there filing a report, so nervous his hands were shaking. I just happened to be there and said a few words to calm him down.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the tip of it glowing red. “We ran into each other a couple more times after that. It felt like fate. Within a week, I confessed my feelings, and he said yes.” Her sweet memories were poison-tipped needles in my heart. “Tomorrow is the anniversary of when you met?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “How did you know?” Her eyes widened in disbelief. I lowered my gaze, hiding the raw pain that threatened to spill out. How could I not know? Two years ago, the day after my wedding anniversary, I was kidnapped on my way to the airport. While they were having their fated meeting, I was likely bound and gagged in some abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, engulfed in a darkness so profound it felt like it was eating me alive. Marc had made enemies—powerful, ruthless people who chose to take their revenge out on me. I barely survived. I lost the child I was carrying. My agony had become the romantic backdrop for their love story. My blood and tears were the water that nourished their precious bellflowers. My knuckles turned white from the force of my grip. I looked up at her. “Chloe, your story is very moving. But at that point, his wife wasn’t in prison yet, was she?” “Well…” Her smile froze for a split second before she rushed to defend herself. “No, but their relationship was already broken. They just hadn’t gotten around to the paperwork.” “Miss Hayes, you must understand. In love, the one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.” I forced my lips into a semblance of a smile. “Of course.” So, you’re not so innocent after all. My apparent agreement seemed to embolden her. “Besides,” she continued, her voice gaining confidence, “he’s always wanted children, but his wife… she couldn’t get pregnant.” “Can you imagine how selfish a woman has to be? To not be able to be a mother herself, but still cling to him, robbing him of his right to be a father. Thank goodness he has me now. I can finally give him the one thing he’s always dreamed of…” As she spoke, she instinctively cradled her stomach. My eyes were drawn to the gesture. “You’re pregnant?” I heard myself ask. She offered a bashful, triumphant smile. “You can tell? I’m two months along. Could you please keep it a secret? We want to wait until after the divorce is final to announce it. I don’t want my baby to be born with any… labels.” “Of course,” I replied smoothly, a chilling glint in my eyes. Marc and I were childhood sweethearts, betrothed from a young age, but we fought like cats and dogs. Just when our families had given up hope and were about to call off the engagement, we somehow, inexplicably, fell in love. We stumbled into marriage, much to everyone’s surprise. They all worried our forced union would end in disaster. But after the wedding, Marc transformed. He became the perfect husband: devoted, attentive, always putting me first. Our friends even joked that marriage had turned him into a completely whipped man. After the kidnapping, after the miscarriage left me unable to have children, Marc held me in his arms, his voice thick with emotion. “Sierra, we don’t need kids. Just the two of us, growing old together.” The words were a balm to my shattered soul, but I never truly believed them. Marc was the sole heir to his family’s fortune. But the next day, he went and had a vasectomy. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive, that I had truly found my soulmate. I never imagined that some things are a lie from the very beginning. It wasn’t that Marc didn’t want a child. He just didn’t want a child with me. With every ounce of strength I had, I pulled my lips into a passable smile. “Understood, Chloe. I have a clear picture of your needs now. The rings will be designed and crafted by your deadline.” She beamed at me. “Thank you so much, Sierra. But I have one more small request.” “Please don’t mention any of this to anyone. Even though my boyfriend is getting a divorce, it would just cause unnecessary trouble if our story got out before it’s official.” “From what he’s told me, his ex-wife is…” I cut her off with a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry.” As her figure disappeared down the hall, I pulled out my phone and dialed my best friend. She was a partner at a top-tier law firm and the legal counsel for my mother’s company. “Marc is cheating. I want a complete trace on his whereabouts for the past two years.” “And tell my mother to pull all funding from any project he’s involved with. Effective immediately.” Hanging up, I gently stroked the wedding band on my finger. Marc, you chose this betrayal. So don’t blame me for destroying everything you’ve worked so hard to build. 2 My best friend, Olivia, worked with terrifying efficiency. Less than three hours later, an encrypted file landed in my inbox. The subject line contained only two words: “Brace yourself.” I clicked it open. The first document was a log of Marc’s travel records for the past two years. My eyes scanned the dense list of flights and immediately locked onto a familiar date. Last Christmas. The record showed Marc had indeed flown out of state that day, but he had taken a return flight that same night. He had used a business trip as a cover to see another woman. On that very day, Chloe had posted a picture on her social media: a romantic, candle-lit dinner. The bouquet of roses decorating the wall in her photo was the same one he had given me the next day. The second file was a breakdown of his bank statements. Multiple large sums had been transferred under the guise of “project investments” to a studio named “Chloe’s Designs.” The owner of that studio was, of course, Chloe. The most bitter irony was the dates of these transfers. They corresponded perfectly with Valentine’s Day, my birthday, and even our wedding anniversary. So, after every celebration with me, he would turn around and wire money to his little mistress. The “future” he claimed to be investing in was never ours. A numbness spread through my chest. I emotionlessly clicked on the next file, a video. It was security footage. Marc was with Chloe in a high-end baby boutique. He was gently guiding her by the elbow, a look of tender adoration on his face that I had never seen before. I checked the date. It was the day I had a follow-up appointment at the hospital. Too busy with work to come with me, he had said. But not too busy to shop for baby clothes with her. The final document made my blood run cold. It was a copy of a high-risk venture capital agreement, signed with my name. The signature date was the day he told me the company needed a cash infusion and that he needed my signature to secure it. The “rough patch” he was navigating was actually him using my name to sign me onto a deal with catastrophic risk. If the project failed, I would be saddled with a nine-figure debt. He, meanwhile, had already been transferring his assets to Chloe, securing his own escape route. After all our years together, he had used my trust to weave this intricate web of deceit. What a brilliant plan. I closed the file and called Olivia. “Seen it? What’s your next move?” she asked, her voice tight. I watched the sun sink below the horizon, my own voice so calm it felt alien. “Compile all the evidence of his asset transfers. I’m planning a little surprise for him.” “And one more thing,” I added after a pause. “Dig into Chloe’s background. I need to know if she’s an unwitting pawn or if she was in on this from the start.” Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Marc. “Happy Anniversary, my love. A last-minute work dinner came up. I’ll be home late.” Attached was a photo from a swanky restaurant. I zoomed in. In the reflection of the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could just make out a familiar figure. It was Chloe. Looking at the picture, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Thank you, Marc, for playing your part so convincingly. Since you’re so eager to remarry, how could I, your soon-to-be ex-wife, not prepare a lavish gift? This “wedding gift,” I promise, will be one you’ll never forget. 3 “Did you get the cake and flowers I sent over?” The notification snapped me back to the present. Marc was checking my location. I let out a cold laugh and typed back. “Just got them. They’re beautiful.” “By the way, the studio is organizing a landscape painting retreat. I’m heading out for a few days to find some inspiration.” He replied almost instantly: “That’s great, honey. I’ve been so busy lately, I feel terrible I can’t be with you. Be safe.” I had to give him plenty of room to perform. Over the next few days, he personally packed my bags for the “trip.” Watching his bustling, concerned act filled me with a wave of nausea. If I didn’t know the truth, I might have actually been moved by his touching display of affection. When he dropped me off at the airport, he barely waited for me to go through security before rushing off. I lowered my eyes to the new message on my phone. It was from Chloe. “Sierra, change of plans. We’re meeting his parents today for a small engagement party. Is there any way you could deliver the rings today?” The address she sent was for the most luxurious hotel in the city. My fingers hovered over the screen. “Of course,” I typed back smoothly. “I wouldn’t miss it. Glad I can be there to share in the joy.” I arrived at the hotel just in time to see Marc’s parents walking in. I pulled my hat down low and followed them at a distance. His mother pulled him into a corner, her voice laced with anxiety. “Marc, I don’t mind you finding someone to have a baby with, but a whole engagement party? This is too much.” “Her family and ours go back generations. There’s business involved. Burning this bridge won’t do anyone any good.” “I won’t let Sierra find out. Don’t worry, Mom.” Listening to their exchange, a storm of emotions churned inside me, finally settling into a quiet, bitter laugh. It was a laugh of self-mockery, of despair, of pure contempt. Growing up, Marc’s mother had treated me like her own daughter. I remembered her sitting by my bedside all night when I had a fever, her panic when I got a scar, greater even than my own mother’s. She never forgot to bring me a gift from her travels, and whenever Marc and I argued, she was always the first to scold him. My own mother used to joke, “Are you sure she’s my daughter and not yours? Maybe they got switched at the hospital.” Even my father, a man hardened by years in politics, had once said, “The Harts are good, loyal people. I feel safe entrusting Sierra to them.” And now, all she cared about was not “burning a bridge.” How utterly pathetic. Just then, Chloe came skipping over, and Marc’s mother’s face instantly transformed into one of warm concern. “You must be Chloe. What a lovely girl. My Marc is so lucky to have found you.” “Oh, my dear, you’re carrying precious cargo now. You must be extra careful when you walk.” Even Marc’s usually stoic father had a hint of a smile in his eyes. It was clear how much they valued an heir. All those previous assurances of “it doesn’t matter” and “we can always adopt” were just empty words to placate me. Chloe snuggled into Marc’s arms, a smug look of triumph she barely tried to hide. “The morning sickness was so bad, I was worried. But the doctor said it might be a boy, that the reaction is stronger with boys.” At this, Marc and his parents lit up, immediately ushering her toward the private dining room. His mother chattered on about the prenatal supplements and gifts she’d prepared, every detail meticulously planned. As they pushed open the door, I saw who was inside. The room was filled with familiar faces. Marc’s relatives, his closest friends, our business partners… Every single person in that room was connected to me, and almost all of them had benefited from my help at some point. They rose to their feet, offering congratulations. Marc’s cousin was holding Chloe’s hand affectionately. “Chloe, you’re so beautiful! You and Marc are a perfect match! How far along are you? You have to take care of yourself.” I had funded her failing salon. I had designed her wedding ring. One of our mutual friends clapped Marc on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man! Finally going to be a dad!” Last year, when his child was critically ill, I was the one who pulled strings to get him an appointment with the top pediatric specialist in the country. The room buzzed with cheerful chatter, but to me, it was a grating, hypocritical cacophony. The same faces that had looked at me with such sincerity when they accepted my help were now twisted into masks of flattery for another woman. After the greetings, Marc led Chloe to the center of the room. “Thank you all for coming. Today is a small, informal engagement ceremony for Chloe and me.” In the midst of the applause, his mother stood up, holding a gift box. It contained a jade bracelet. Identical to the one she had given me. “Chloe, this is a family heirloom, for our daughter-in-law.” “And now that you’re engaged, you can start calling me Mom.” Chloe blushed, shyly murmured “Mom” and “Dad,” and threw her arms around Marc. The atmosphere in the room hit its peak. I had seen enough. I shoved the door open. As every head turned and stared, a half-smile played on my lips. “Sorry I’m late.” “Chloe was in such a hurry for her engagement rings, I decided to deliver them myself.”

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1 To placate my adopted brother, my sister sabotaged the Pairing Ceremony. In front of everyone, I drew the worst possible lot: marriage to a crippled, disfigured war veteran. A shocked murmur rippled through the hall, quickly followed by jeers and catcalls. I stood frozen, my eyes burning. Beside me, my sister, Karina, spoke in a low, placating tone. “Don’t blame me, Larry. You’re the one who pushed Jude into the pool in front of everyone last time. This was just to make him feel better.” “He’s just a kid, he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. You need to stop being so hard on him.” “Don’t worry,” she added, “it’s just for show. You’re a Vance. We’d never actually let you marry some broken-down old soldier.” … Her words hit me like a physical blow. The blood in my veins turned to ice. Below the balcony, the guests’ whispers became a steady hum. Karina cleared her throat, raising her voice. “My brother’s hand slipped! The result is void. We’ll draw again.” As she spoke, she shot a subtle glance toward Sienna Sterling. Sienna. My childhood friend. The one person I had hoped to draw today. I instinctively looked at her. She was leaning against a marble pillar, her dark green dress uniform accentuating her sharp, elegant features. The brim of her cap cast a shadow over eyes that were, even from this distance, impossibly beautiful. Sensing my gaze, a flicker of cold indifference crossed her face. She straightened up, her voice ringing out, clear and firm. “The Pairing Ceremony is built on tradition and fairness. There’s no such thing as a redraw.” “Surely the son of General Vance isn’t going to break his word in front of the entire assembly, is he?” My heart plummeted. My knuckles, clenched in the fabric of my suit, turned white. A chorus of agreement rose from the crowd. “Major General Sterling is right! You can’t just change the outcome.” “General Vance is a man of his word. Is his son going to be the exception?” Seeing the situation spiral out of control, Karina’s face turned ashen. She pointed an accusatory finger at Sienna. “You… you grew up with Larry! You spent your whole childhood at the Fort telling everyone you’d marry him and no one else!” “How can you say something like this now?” Someone in the crowd let out a derisive laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? The Major General has her eyes on someone else.” “I saw her at the mall with the younger Vance boy yesterday. They were buying out half the designer stores. Looked like she couldn’t get enough.” “I heard her family had to drag her here today. The last thing she wanted was to have her name drawn.” So that was it. I slowly lowered my gaze, blinking back the moisture that stung my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I walked forward. I took the microphone, my voice quiet but carrying to every corner of the vast hall. “Who said the result is void?” “If my name was drawn, then it was fate. I accept this marriage.” Karina whirled around, her voice sharp with panic. “Larry, are you insane?” “You’re a General’s son! You can’t actually marry that… that cripple!” I turned to look at her, my eyes bloodshot. There was a time when she was the one who would stand in front of me, shielding me from the world. But now, because of Jude’s throwaway lie—”he pushed me into the pool”—she had just single-handedly turned the most important day of my life into a public crucifixion. A cold, faint smile touched my lips. “Karina, isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” “I’m going to marry a broken woman. Your precious Jude should be satisfied now, right?” Karina froze, her brow furrowed. “You’re still blaming him? You were the one in the wrong. What he did today was just…” I didn’t hear the rest of her excuses. I turned and started down the grand staircase. The guests parted like the sea, creating a path for me. Their gazes, a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity, felt like a thousand tiny needles against my skin. As I passed Sienna, she called out my name. Her voice was laced with a self-righteous sort of pity. “Larry, you don’t have to marry someone like that just to spite me.” She took a step closer, her tone softening as if she were genuinely concerned. “We grew up together. I’ve always thought of you as my own brother… I promise I’ll help you find a suitable match from a good family.” I turned back, a mocking curve to my lips. “A brother?” Sienna was speechless, a flash of guilt in her eyes. My gaze was a razor, cutting right through her composure. “Sienna, if you had just been honest and admitted you’d changed your mind, I might have actually respected you for it.” Her face went pale. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally, she just looked away. I didn’t pause again. I walked straight past her, the hem of my suit jacket brushing against her polished military boots, and headed toward the figure in the wheelchair in the corner of the ballroom. The whispers in the room died instantly. From the second-floor balcony, Karina leaned so far over the railing she nearly fell. “Larry, get a grip! Stop acting like a child!” Sienna remained where she was, her jaw clenched, her expression a mask of cold fury. In that moment, every eye was on me. I bent down slightly, meeting the gaze of the woman whose face was half-hidden by a silver-grey mask. Her fingers, resting on the armrest, were covered in scars. A thin cashmere blanket was draped over her legs. “Will you… marry me?” The woman’s body trembled slightly. Her visible eye, which had been downcast, suddenly flashed with a sharp, piercing light. She spoke, her voice surprisingly clear and crisp. “You won’t regret this?” “No regrets.” “Alright. I’ll marry you.” Karina bolted down the stairs, only to be stopped on the last few steps by Sienna’s outstretched arm. “If you go over there now, you’ll be giving him exactly what he wants.” “What are you talking about?” Sienna let out a cold laugh, her eyes still fixed on my back. “He’s just throwing a tantrum. He would never actually marry a cripple…” I heard their muffled argument behind me but didn’t turn around. I simply extended my hand to the woman in the wheelchair. Her palm was rough and warm as her hand closed firmly around my wrist. Karina, Sienna, and I had been inseparable growing up on the military base. That all changed three years ago. I was visiting Sienna near a border deployment when I went missing, losing all contact with them. The event devastated my parents. The laughter in our home vanished. Until Jude appeared. He was the son of a distant cousin on my mother’s side, and he bore a startling resemblance to me. After his parents died in a car crash, my parents adopted him immediately. Jude was cheerful and charming, and within days he had won over the entire household. His presence slowly breathed life back into our cold, quiet home. Over time, it seemed everyone began to forget I ever existed. Six months ago, I finally escaped a war zone in Southeast Asia, making my way back home after a journey that nearly killed me. I expected a warm, tearful reunion. Instead, I was met with a carefully maintained distance, all for fear of upsetting Jude. The night I came home, I overheard my mother comforting him. “Jude, you will always be our most beloved son. Nothing and no one will ever change that.” “Besides,” she’d added, her voice softening, “your brother spent years in that horrible place. He’s not the same person. He’s coarse now, rough around the edges… not thoughtful and kind like you.” I stood outside the door, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I was still clutching the St. Christopher medal my mother had given me for protection before I disappeared. … The news that the General’s son was marrying a disabled veteran spread like wildfire through our circle. When I got home, my parents and sister were sitting in the living room. “It’s madness!” my father boomed, slamming his hand on the coffee table. “He’s disgraced the Vance name!” My mother, organizing a jewelry box, didn’t even look up. “Don’t yell at him when he gets here. You’ll just make things worse. He’s only saying he’ll marry that woman to get back at Karina for embarrassing him. He doesn’t even know her name or where she lives. Do you really think he’ll go through with it?” Jude, sitting beside her, squeezed out a few crocodile tears. “Mom, it’s all my fault… If Karina hadn’t stood up for me, Larry wouldn’t be doing this.” My mother pulled out a tissue and dabbed his cheeks. “Silly boy. We’ve all had to walk on eggshells around your brother since he came back. You’ve put up with so much.” My father’s voice softened. “Don’t blame yourself, Jude. Your brother is just throwing a tantrum. He’s not going to ruin his life over it.” My mother picked up a designer watch and fastened it around Jude’s wrist. “Here, pick out what you like. Before your brother comes back and tries to start a fight over it…” She trailed off, her eyes catching sight of me standing silently in the entryway. The watch slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. Every face in the room froze. The old me would have screamed. I would have demanded to know why they treated me like a thief when I had never once fought with Jude over anything. I would have asked my father and sister why they only had eyes for him. But I was just… tired. Or perhaps, in the moment I decided to leave, I had already given up on this family. Under their tense stares, I simply turned and went upstairs. Three days later, I met the woman at a quiet cafe in the South End. Rain tapped against the windowpane. I stirred my latte, lost in thought, until the soft whir of a wheelchair stopped at my table. I looked up and froze. In the dim light of the ballroom, I hadn’t seen her clearly. The half of her face not covered by the mask was strikingly handsome, with sharp, well-defined features and superior bone structure. “Mr. Vance. You don’t recognize me?” Her voice held a hint of amusement, like a clear mountain spring. Today, she wore a crisp white dress. The silver-grey mask glinted under the daylight, and her visible eye was a piercing, rare shade of amber. Her gaze was locked on me, direct and unflinching. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to sound composed. “What’s your name?” “Vera,” she said, effortlessly maneuvering her chair to the opposite side of the table. She picked up the water pitcher with a long, slender hand and poured herself a glass. The simple movement radiated an undeniable grace and authority. Suppressing a strange feeling in my gut, I took a credit card from my wallet and pushed it across the table. “In two weeks, come to the Vance estate. This should be enough to cover any necessary expenses.” Vera’s eyes flicked to the card but she didn’t take it. Instead, she looked directly at me, her gaze assessing. “Are you certain you want to marry a… cripple like me?” My fingers tightened. I lifted my chin. “What, are you afraid the Vance family will throw its weight around?” She let out a low laugh at that. With a gentle but firm motion, she pushed the card back toward me. “What’s this?” I frowned. “I haven’t married you yet. I have no reason to spend your money.” When she looked up, her eyes were sharp, her tone absolute. “Wait for me. In two weeks, I will come for you in style.” I was stunned. Thinking of the coldness and calculation I faced at home, my eyes welled up against my will. I took a deep breath, but my voice was steady. “If you can… please be quick.” Vera noticed the redness in my eyes. She paused, her throat moving slightly. When she spoke again, her voice carried a new, solemn weight. “I will.” Dinner had already started when I got home. Sienna was there, sitting next to Jude. The moment I walked in, the conversation stopped. The smiles on their faces froze. The lively dining room fell into an awkward silence. Karina was the first to recover. “Larry, come and eat.” “I’m not hungry. I’m going upstairs.” I turned to leave. “Larry,” my mother called out, standing up. “We need to discuss something with you.” I stopped. “What is it?” She walked over, hesitating for a moment. “Your father and I have decided it’s time to formally announce Jude and Sienna’s engagement.” I looked over at Sienna. She quickly averted her gaze. A bitter smile touched my lips. My mother took my hand. “I know you and Sienna grew up together, but love has to be mutual. It’s not about who was there first… I promise I’ll make it up to you…” I gently pulled my hand away. “I have no objection.” “I wish my brother and future sister-in-law a long and happy life together.” I didn’t expect Sienna to follow me out. She grabbed my wrist, her grip so strong I couldn’t break free. “Sienna, what are you doing?” I said coldly, frowning. She looked down, her voice softening. “I know you’re just saying those things to hurt me.” “You must be… in a lot of pain right now, aren’t you?” Pain? Not really. Not anymore. Maybe just a sense of weary disappointment. I once thought Jude might steal everyone away from me, but never Sienna. When I first came back, he was constantly framing me, painting himself as the victim. No one believed me when I tried to explain. Except for Sienna. She would take my hand, her gaze firm. “Larry, I believe you.” “I will always be on your side.” She had kept her distance from Jude, repelled by his attempts to imitate me and take my place. I thought she, the girl who had sworn to marry only me, who had never stopped searching for me during the three years I was gone, would be my last bastion of support. But in the end, she joined the others in turning against me. “Larry,” she had screamed at me once, “no wonder your own parents love an adopted son more than you! Who could possibly love you when you’re so full of thorns?” “I say one word to Jude and you interrogate me endlessly, as if I’ve betrayed you! You’re paranoid and completely irrational!” “Fine! I’ll tell you! Jude is kinder than you, more thoughtful than you, and more deserving of love than you! I’ve fallen for him, alright? Are you happy now?” Back then, I was drowning, and she was my only lifeline. Even after she said those cruel words, my first instinct wasn’t anger, but a sickening doubt that maybe I was the one who was wrong. It wasn’t until much later that I understood. Sienna had only ever said she disliked Jude. She never actually rejected his advances, his constant crossing of boundaries. Her words and actions never matched. It was her wavering, her hypocrisy, that pushed me to the brink. It was never me. It was always her. Seeing my prolonged silence now, Sienna assumed she’d guessed my thoughts correctly. Her tone became softer, almost patronizing. “Larry, we grew up together. We were in love once. I don’t want us to end up as strangers.” “How about this? I can talk to your parents. After Jude and I are married, you can come live with us. Don’t worry, I’ll treat you both equally. I won’t play favorites.” I looked up at her in disbelief, certain I had misheard. How could she be so shameless? She misinterpreted my shock as delight and smugly adjusted the cuff of her uniform. “But first, you have to promise me. After we’re married, you can’t keep picking fights with Jude over every little thing…” I couldn’t listen anymore. I shoved her away, the fury I’d suppressed for so long finally erupting. “Get the hell away from me!” Half a month later was Jude’s birthday. It was also the day Vera had promised to come for me. The gossip in our circle had mostly died down, thanks to my father’s efforts to suppress it. After all, no one really believed the son of General Vance would actually leave his family for a disabled veteran. Even my parents and sister thought my deKarination was nothing more than a childish tantrum. They didn’t know that my heart had already turned to ash. My resolve to leave had never wavered. Early that morning, as I was about to open my door, I heard hushed voices in the courtyard. It was Karina. “Be quiet. If he wakes up and finds out we’re taking Jude to Miami for his birthday, he’ll throw a fit and none of us will get to go.” My mother’s voice was hesitant. “Are we really just leaving Larry here alone? I have a bad feeling about this…” “Don’t be ridiculous,” my father grumbled, zipping a suitcase. “I worked hard to get this leave approved. The house has guards and maids. It’s not like he’ll be neglected.” Jude put on a show of concern. “Maybe… maybe we should ask him to come with us?” Karina scoffed. “And ruin your birthday? I don’t think so.” My mother sighed. “Well, we’ll make it up to him when we get back.” Soon, the courtyard fell silent. I opened the door and looked up at the clear, cloudless sky. A perfect day. I turned back inside and put on the suit I had prepared.

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The day my mother brought her childhood sweetheart home to our villa, my father, who had quit smoking years ago, chain-smoked on the balcony all night. His colleagues at the research institute used to envy him for having a CEO for a wife. They’d tell him he should just stay home and enjoy the good life, manage the family finances, and forget about the grind of a nine-to-five. But my dad would just shake his head. “That’s all material stuff. As long as the love is there, money doesn’t matter. But if the day comes when she doesn’t love me anymore, I’ll walk away with nothing but the clothes on my back.” I never thought his words would be a prophecy. But she didn’t love him anymore. Later, when my mother stood before the media, her arm linked with that other man’s, my father boarded a plane and flew abroad without a backward glance. And as I stared at a picture on social media of my fiancée’s hand intertwined with someone else’s, I knew it was time for me to leave, too. 1 The day after my mother, Fiona, moved Julian Hayes into our house, she called a family meeting. She slid a divorce agreement across the table to my father, Mark. “Mark, Julian is going through a hard time. You know our history. I have to help him.” “The three of us living together like this… it doesn’t look good.” “I promise you, the divorce is just a formality. We’ll still live together. It’s just to quiet the gossip. Don’t overthink it.” I stared at her, incredulous. “Are you kidding me? If he’s in trouble, you can rent him an apartment! You could buy him a house! Why does he have to live with us?” My dad put a hand on my arm, shaking his head slightly. Then, without another word, he signed the papers. A relieved smile instantly spread across my mother’s face. “Honey, you have to believe me. You’ll always be the love of my life. As soon as he’s back on his feet, we’ll remarry.” With that, she practically skipped out the door with the agreement. Not long after, the news broke online. [CEO Fiona Vance Announces Divorce] My dad and I sat in silence in the living room, watching the headline scroll across the screen, a shared sadness hanging between us. “Dad, why did you agree? And who is this Julian Hayes?” He took a long drag from his cigarette. “He was your mother’s first love. The one she never really got over.” “What kind of trouble is he in that she has to help him this much?” “They have a son. He’s a year older than you. How could she not help?” The foundations of my twenty-four-year-old world were crumbling around me. Everyone had always seen my parents as the perfect couple. I never imagined a sordid past like this. “Dad,” I asked quietly, “do you think she still loves him?” He lit another cigarette in silence. “I don’t know. But I know she doesn’t love me anymore.” I nodded, a wave of grief washing over me. “Son, I’m going to have to leave. If you can, you should move out too. This house won’t feel like ours for much longer.” I put my arm around his shoulders, my eyes burning. The next day, I went with my dad to the institute. As we walked in, Mrs. Davies from HR greeted us cheerfully. She was my fiancée’s mother. “Mrs. Davies,” I said, “I was supposed to have dinner with Cathy last night, but she said she wasn’t feeling well. Is she any better?” Her expression stiffened. “Oh, you know how young people are. A good night’s sleep and she was fine.” I didn’t press her. I went to my lab station to start my work. A moment later, another intern, a guy from my year, sidled up to me, phone in hand, a gossipy glint in his eye. “Leo, man, I heard your family was rich, but I didn’t realize how rich. That bracelet you got for Cathy must have been, what, twenty grand?” I froze. Following his gaze, I saw it: Cathy’s social media feed. The picture showed two hands, tightly clasped. They were wearing matching couple’s bracelets. She’d been acting strange lately, turning me down nine times out of ten when I asked her out. Now I knew why. Her profile was hidden from me, so I took my colleague’s phone and kept scrolling. Amusement parks, Michelin-star restaurants, late-night drives in a sports car… And in one picture, a man’s face, with a striking resemblance to my mother. So this was her “something important.” We’d met in college. It was love at first sight for me. Later, by some coincidence, I found out her mother worked with my dad. It was my father who had set up a dinner to get us together. After that first dinner, as we walked, she took my hand. “Leo,” she’d said, “I like you too. From the very first moment I saw you.” We’d held each other tight under a streetlight that night. It seemed my dad and I both had terrible judgment when it came to people. It was time to end this engagement. 2 That evening, my dad stayed late at the lab. I bought some fruit and went straight to Cathy’s house. Her mother answered the door. She glanced at the fruit in my hand and then blocked the doorway. “Leo, honey. Cathy’s not home. You should go.” I stood there awkwardly. In all the time Cathy and I had been together, this was the first time her mother had ever turned me away. “Well, could you take this fruit, Mrs. Davies? For Cathy, since she wasn’t feeling well.” She still didn’t move. “We have too much fruit in the house already. It’ll just go bad. You take it home to your father. You have a good night now.” She shut the door in my face. Through the thin wood, I could faintly hear her muttering. “So rich, but so cheap. Hasn’t bought her a single expensive thing all these years.” Defeated, I walked down the stairs. As I reached the entrance of the building, a red sports car screeched to a halt in front of me. Cathy and the man from her pictures got out, their arms linked. “Do you think your parents will like the ginseng I bought?” he was asking. “Of course! My mom’s been cooking all day, she knew you were coming for dinner.” It all clicked. They turned me away so I wouldn’t interrupt their little party. A basket of fruit couldn’t compete with expensive ginseng. “Cathy!” I called out, stepping in front of them. She saw me and instantly snatched her hand back, her face panicked. “Leo! What are you doing here?” I ignored her question. “Who is this? What’s going on?” Cathy waved her hands dismissively. “It’s not what you think. Didn’t your mother tell you? This is your brother, Alex. He’s new in town, so my mom asked me to show him around.” I looked him up and down, my eyes landing on the matching bracelets. Cathy quickly hid her hand behind her back. But the next second, Alex pulled it forward, dangling it right in front of my face. “The bracelets? They were a gift from me. Got a problem with that, little brother? You’re too cheap to buy her anything nice, so why can’t I?” His taunt lit a fuse inside me. I swung, my fist connecting with his jaw. He was strong. He hit back, harder, knocking me to the ground. Cathy rushed to help me up. “Stop it! You’re brothers! Please, my mom made dinner. Come up and eat with us.” I shoved her away. “Your mom wouldn’t even let me in the damn door!” “Cathy, why did you lie to me? Don’t we even have basic honesty between us anymore?” “If you don’t want to marry me, just say so! I won’t stand in your way!” I got to my feet, covered in dirt, and ran home. 3 I walked in to find my mother and Julian Hayes having a candlelight dinner. “Son, this is your Uncle Julian. I didn’t get a chance to introduce you yesterday.” I glared at him. “Oh, right. Like father, like son, I guess. Both look decent enough on the outside, but all you know how to do is seduce other people’s wives.” My mother’s face flushed with anger. She slapped my arm. “How dare you speak to your elders that way? When did you become so disrespectful?” I snorted. “Disrespectful? Maybe I learned it from you. You sent my fiancée to entertain his son. Isn’t that what you’d call disrespectful?” SLAP! Her hand cracked across my face. Her eyes were red. “He’s my son too! You’re brothers! What’s wrong with your fiancée spending some time with him? Why are you being so petty?” “Is that how you see me? As some kind of monster?” Tears streamed down her face. She leaned against Julian’s shoulder, sobbing. Julian comforted her, his voice soft. “Leo, this is all my fault. Don’t let us come between you and your mother.” My mother covered his mouth. “No, Julian, it’s not you. It’s me. I failed to raise my son properly.” Just then, the front door opened and Alex rushed in, his face a mask of concern. “Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” My mother looked up and immediately saw the cut on his lip. “Alex, honey, you’re hurt! Did you get in a fight? Does it hurt?” Alex shot a wounded look in my direction. “Mom, he hates me. But he’s had your love for over twenty years. I’m so jealous.” “I just want a little bit of my mother’s love. Is that too much to ask?” My mother’s tears fell faster. She stood up and shoved me hard. “Is this how you treat your brother? I carried him for nine months, just like I carried you! Why can’t you accept him?” I gave a bitter laugh and pointed to my own bleeding lip. “Mom, I’m hurt worse than he is. But you haven’t even noticed. Right now, all you can see is them. What are Dad and I to you?” She froze, her eyes finally landing on my injury. “I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t see…” “Don’t bother, Mom. I get it. Dad and I don’t matter anymore. I don’t need your fake sympathy.” I ran to my room and locked the door, my eyes stinging. 4 The next day, Cathy was waiting for me outside the institute. The bracelet was gone from her wrist. “Leo, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have hidden it from you. Please, just give me one more chance.” I looked at her coldly. “The engagement is off.” Her eyes immediately filled with tears. She grabbed my hand. “Don’t do this. I promise I’ll never see him again. You know I love you.” Looking into her sincere eyes, my resolve wavered. Maybe I had misunderstood. My tone softened. “Cathy, this is your last chance.” I walked into the institute. In the lab, I found my dad, his hair a mess. “Dad, did you not sleep at all?” “The director spoke to me yesterday. There’s a research project abroad that wants me to lead it. It’s a five-year commitment. I’m still thinking about it.” I knew that despite his disappointment, he still couldn’t let my mother go. “Dad, you’ve passed up so many opportunities to stay close to her. If you miss this one, at your age, you might not get another.” He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I just can’t believe it. After more than twenty years… how can she just stop loving me? What if she’s just confused right now?” I sighed. We were both the same. Too soft-hearted for our own good. That evening, my mother called to say she wouldn’t be home. She had a new product launch event. My dad and I huddled in the lab, watching the livestream on his phone. Seeing her on stage, radiant and powerful, I could still see the spark of love in my father’s eyes. But at the end of the presentation, she made an announcement. “And now, I have two appointments to declare.” “I am appointing Julian Hayes as the new Vice President of the company, and Alex Hayes as the General Manager for this new product line.” Julian walked onto the stage and kissed my mother on the cheek. Alex stood beside her, and the three of them smiled for the cameras like a happy family. A reporter from the crowd shouted a question. “Ms. Vance, is this your official announcement of a new relationship with Mr. Hayes? You two make a lovely couple.” I turned to look at my father. The light in his eyes was gone. They were like stagnant pools, dull and lifeless. “Son,” he said, his voice flat, “she really doesn’t love me anymore.” “You’ll have to take care of yourself after I’m gone.” I let out a long, slow breath and gave him a sad smile. “Dad, would you mind if I came with you and lived off your salary for a while?” He looked at me, surprised. “What about Cathy?” I pulled out my phone and showed him a screenshot. In the front row of the product launch, Cathy sat in a glamorous dress, the twenty-thousand-dollar bracelet sparkling on her wrist. A bouquet of red roses in her lap made her smile look even more radiant. “Dad,” I said, “there’s no place for us in that family anymore.”

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