My wife, eight months pregnant, was hit by a car while walking our dog. I called an ambulance immediately. The moment the paramedics arrived and went to put my wife on the stretcher, I stopped them. “You’ve got the wrong one. I called the ambulance for the dog. You need to get him to the animal hospital right now, before it’s too late.” The paramedics and the crowd of onlookers stared, completely baffled. My wife, lying on the pavement, looked up at me with tears streaming down her face. “In your eyes,” she sobbed, “are my life and our baby’s life worth less than a dog’s?” Without a second’s hesitation, I said, “Yes.” 1 “Sir, please be serious,” one of the paramedics said, standing his ground. “We may be a private ambulance service, but our priority is always human life.” I looked at our dog, Buddy, whimpering in pain on the ground, and my patience snapped. “A human life is a life, but isn’t a dog’s life a life, too? Buddy has been with me for eight years. He’s family. If you don’t save him today, I’ll make you regret it!” My outburst set the crowd murmuring. “What kind of monster is he? His wife’s water just broke from the accident, and he hasn’t even glanced at her. All he cares about is that dog.” “I own a dog, and I love him to death, but I’d never abandon my wife and child. Is this guy out of his mind?” “That poor woman, married to an animal like him!” I ignored their judgment, carefully lifting Buddy onto the stretcher myself. “What are you waiting for? I’m the one who called you, and I’ve already paid. Now get my dog to the animal hospital!” The paramedics exchanged a hesitant look, their eyes darting to my wife, Chelsea, who was now slumped against the curb. Her face was ashen, and the fluid from her ruptured amniotic sac was still pooling around her. They opened their mouths to argue, but Chelsea spoke first, her voice weak as she clutched her stomach. “Please, just save Buddy,” she whispered. “I can call another ambulance for myself. My husband… he would be devastated if anything happened to Buddy.” She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with a love so deep it seemed to swallow the agony she was clearly in. The crowd’s murmurs shifted to sympathy and admiration for her. I ignored them all and pressed the paramedics again. “You heard her. My wife agrees. Now drive! Buddy is running out of time!” Finally, the ambulance doors closed, and we sped toward the animal hospital, leaving Chelsea behind on the pavement. While Buddy was in surgery, my mother called. “Ethan, Chelsea had the baby—it’s a boy. But he’s not doing well. You need to get here now!” Her voice was frantic, but my mind was elsewhere. “Mom, Buddy’s still in surgery. His condition is unstable. I can’t leave him.” My mother’s voice exploded through the phone. “Ethan, that is your son! Do you have any idea how close you came to losing them? The doctors said if Chelsea had arrived one minute later, neither she nor the baby would have made it! If she wasn’t defending you, telling me not to blame you, I swear I would beat you senseless myself!” My mother had always been gentle. I had never heard her so furious. But I couldn’t focus on her anger. My eyes were glued to the operating room door. When the vet finally emerged, I cut my mother off. “Mom, I have to go. Buddy’s out of surgery. I need to take care of him.” I hung up and rushed to the vet. “Doctor, how is he? Is Buddy going to be okay?” 2 Seeing the tremor in my hands, the doctor placed a calming hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We got to him in time. He’s out of danger, but we need to keep him for observation for the next twenty-four hours.” A wave of relief washed over me. “Okay, good. That’s all that matters.” As soon as I said it, my phone rang again. It was my father. “Ethan, your son is fighting for his life. How can you not be here? Get to this hospital now!” His voice was a thunderous roar, accustomed to being obeyed. But I answered without thinking. “Dad, Buddy needs me. I can’t leave.” His fury intensified. “A dog is more important than your wife and child? Ethan, you chased Chelsea from high school through college. You fought so hard to marry her. At your wedding, you stood in front of all our friends and family and swore you would never let her suffer a moment of pain. Even Buddy—Chelsea was the one who found him as a stray eight years ago! The only reason you love that dog so much is because of her. How can your feelings for the dog remain, while you treat her like this?” His words stung, and tears welled in my eyes against my will. I wiped them away. “Dad,” I said, my voice thick, “that’s all in the past.” “Buddy needs me. That’s all.” I hung up and turned off my phone. I didn’t leave Buddy’s side for a second. As time passed, he slowly regained consciousness. When he finally opened his big, watery eyes and gave a weak wag of his tail, the knot in my chest finally loosened. The next day, after a final check-up, the vet gave me the all-clear to take him home. But as I stepped out of the clinic, a mob of people swarmed me. “There he is! That’s the scumbag from the internet! The one who saved his dog instead of his wife!” “His pregnant wife gets in a car crash, and he steals the ambulance for his dog!” “His wife is seriously injured, and his premature son is barely hanging on, and where is he? He spent the whole night at the vet with a dog!” “Everyone get a good look at this monster’s face! If you see him, give him hell!” They shoved their phones in my face, livestreaming and recording, their expressions a mixture of outrage and disgust. The commotion drew an even larger crowd. As the story spread, their faces twisted into the same contempt. The comments on the livestreams were a torrent of hate, calling me less than human, wishing me a painful death. It was then I realized someone must have recorded the entire incident at the accident scene and posted it online. Overnight, I had become the internet’s most hated man. These streamers had tracked me down for their content. One of them pushed his phone right up to my face. “In the video, a lot of people thought your conversation with your wife must have been edited. So tell us now, in front of everyone. Do you really believe a dog’s life is more important than your wife and child’s?” Facing a dozen cameras, I didn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes.” 3 My answer ignited a firestorm. “Oh my god. I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing it myself. Someone actually thinks his wife and kid are worth less than a dog.” “If you love your dog that much, why did you get married and ruin a woman’s life?!” “Exactly! Why wasn’t it you who got hit by the car? A piece of trash like you is the one who deserves to die!” The streamers fanned the flames, and the crowd’s anger boiled over. They screamed insults, their faces contorted with rage, looking like they wanted to tear me apart. Just as the wave of fury was about to crash over me, my parents arrived, pushing Chelsea in a wheelchair. She was ghostly pale, slumped weakly against the cushions, looking utterly drained. As they wheeled her in front of me, her first words were for me. “Ethan, are you okay?” Her voice was barely a whisper, as if speaking took all her strength. But even then, her concern was for me. I looked into her love-filled eyes and just shook my head, saying nothing. My father’s face was grim. “Ethan, your mother and I were up all night trying to understand why you would suddenly treat Chelsea this way. We thought maybe you had some misunderstanding about her or the baby, so we had an expedited paternity test done. He is your son, Ethan. Your own flesh and blood. How could you abandon them for a dog?!” He thrust the report at me. I didn’t even glance at it. “Oh,” was all I said. My mother frowned. “Ethan, Chelsea saw the livestream of people harassing you. She was so worried that she discharged herself from the hospital against doctor’s orders just to get to you. She is always thinking of you. You can’t keep hurting her like this. Now, be a man and apologize.” I stroked Buddy’s fur. “I just wanted to save my dog,” I said, my voice firm. “What did I do wrong?” SMACK! The sound echoed in the sudden silence. My father had slapped me across the face, hard. “You worthless bastard! You left your pregnant, injured wife alone on the street to save a dog! You ignored your own premature son while you sat with that animal! Do you have any idea he’s still in an incubator, fighting for his life? Have you even asked about him once?! And you still have the nerve to say you did nothing wrong?!” 4 My father was screaming, his voice raw with rage. He had put all his strength into the slap, and my cheek was already swelling and turning a deep red. Chelsea’s eyes filled with pain as she looked at my face. She turned to my father. “Dad, please don’t be angry. Don’t hit Ethan. He was just desperate to save Buddy. I know, deep down, he still loves me and the baby.” Just then, her phone rang. It was the hospital. As soon as she answered, the doctor’s urgent voice came through the speaker. “Ms. Miller, your son needs an emergency blood transfusion. He has a rare Rh-negative blood type, and the hospital’s blood bank doesn’t have a match on hand. We need to know if you or the father are a match. We need someone to come in immediately, or the baby is in grave danger!” Chelsea’s face went white. She grabbed my hand. “Ethan, you’re Rh-negative! Come on, we have to go save our son!” I pulled my hand away. “No,” I said flatly. “I have to take care of Buddy.” Chelsea stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. My mother shrieked, “Ethan, have you lost your mind? That’s your son!” “You ignored Chelsea after the accident, and now you’re going to let your son die?” I met my mother’s horrified gaze. “The vet said Buddy is extremely weak right now and needs constant care. I have to go home and make him some nutritious broth. Besides,” I added calmly, “I’m anemic. What if something happens to me during the transfusion? Who will take care of Buddy then?” At that, Chelsea’s face crumpled. She struggled out of her wheelchair and knelt before me on the ground. “Ethan,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face. “We’ve been together for so long, and I have never, ever asked you for anything. You can treat me however you want, I don’t care, but our baby… our baby is innocent! I’m begging you, please, go save him. He was just born. He hasn’t even had a chance to see the world!” She was a picture of desperation, her voice broken and pleading. But I remained unmoved. “If you want to save him, you go. I have to take care of Buddy. I don’t have time for the hospital.” I turned to leave, holding Buddy close. My father grabbed my arm, his voice shaking with rage. “You monster! You’d let your own child die for a dog?” My mother’s face was etched with pain. “Ethan, you have disappointed me more than I can say. From this day on, we are done. I don’t have a heartless son like you!” The livestream comments exploded. “I thought saving the dog over the wife was rock bottom, but now he won’t even save his own dying son? Is he even human?” “This is disgusting. He’ll spend all night at a vet but won’t take an hour to give blood to his own baby. He’s worse than an animal!” “I’m furious! This man doesn’t deserve to live, let alone have a wife and child!” “I hope karma strikes him down right where he stands!” The crowd erupted, throwing garbage and spitting at me, their faces masks of fury. Just as I was about to be swallowed by the storm of their hatred, a cold, clear voice cut through the noise. “None of you have the right to judge him.” I looked up and saw her. A smile touched my lips. Finally, the show was about to begin.

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On the seventh anniversary of our relationship, my boyfriend and I announced my pregnancy. That night, he planned a spectacular marriage proposal. There were fireworks, a drone show, and all our friends and family were there to witness it. I lowered my head shyly, holding out my hand, waiting for Jack to slide the ring onto my finger. But then, a shimmering figure materialized in the air. It yelled at Jack. “I’m you from ten years in the future! Don’t marry Nina. The future you will wish she were dead.” The figure pointed to a quiet girl standing in the corner. “That is your true love. In ten years, you’ll take a knife for her. You’ll divorce Nina for her.” “I know you haven’t met her properly yet, but once you get to know her, you’ll see how wonderful she is.” “The future you will fly in lobster for her birthday and fill notebooks with everything she loves. Every moment with her, the very air will feel sweet. Even your arguments will feel like part of the romance.” “Only then will you understand that what you feel for Nina isn’t love. It’s just habit.” The 24-year-old Jack standing before me stiffened his neck. “Impossible! The only person I love is Nina!” Our friends, seeing him argue with thin air, burst into laughter. “She’s already said yes, man! You don’t have to keep professing your love!” one of them teased. I played along. “So, when are you coming over to meet the parents officially?” But he slowly straightened up, the ring box still clutched in his hand. “I… I think maybe this is too soon.” “Nina, just… wait for me. I need to think.” Everyone exchanged confused glances. And in the air, the man who called himself the future Jack shot me a triumphant, provocative smirk. 1 The romantic proposal ended in a confusing anticlimax. The 34-year-old Jack wanted to find the other girl, Chloe, but he was tethered to his younger self, a ghostly passenger in our car. He was dressed in a sharp, cool-toned suit that fit him perfectly, his expression dark and scowling. The small space of the car suddenly felt suffocating. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. What neither of them knew was that I could see the older Jack, too. He radiated the cold confidence of a mature, successful man. When his eyes swept over me, they were filled with an undisguised disgust, as if I were his sworn enemy. It was a jarring contrast to the 24-year-old Jack, whose gaze had always been soft and full of love for me. Other than their shared face, this older man was a complete stranger. When we got home, the older Jack took a tour of our apartment, like a critical landlord. “This place is a fixer-upper, isn’t it? You should renovate. Get rid of that Monstera on the balcony; Chloe likes succulents.” “And no more fresh flowers. Chloe is allergic to pollen. She likes handmade cookies, so replace the fruit in the fridge. And she loves those big, plush bears—get a giant one for the sofa.” A vein throbbed in my Jack’s temple. “Enough,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I told you, I only love Nina. I don’t even know this Chloe person!” The older Jack just chuckled, like he was looking at a fool who refused to see the truth. “You’ll see how wonderful she is once you get to know her.” A gentle, nostalgic smile touched his lips. Then his eyes fell on me, sitting on the sofa, and his voice turned to ice. “And Nina… she’s just a mistake you made when you were young.” My hand, resting on the cushion, clenched into a fist, my nails digging deep into my palm. Jack and I had been desk-mates in high school. He’d played his guitar under my dorm window for three months straight to win me over. He’d run all over town in the dead of winter to buy me the hot chocolate and pastries I was craving. When a drunk harassed me once, Jack had shielded me, getting his head split open with a bottle for his trouble. He’d told me that the first time he saw me, he felt a spark. That his life wouldn’t be complete without me. His love had been a burning, brilliant fire, and his unwavering devotion had won me over. From school uniforms to office attire, we’d known each other for ten years, been in love for seven. We had been part of each other’s lives for nearly half our existence. Even if we were to break up someday, how could I, Nina, become nothing more than a mistake from his youth? I looked at my Jack, who was standing on the balcony. His knuckles were white, his jaw tight with suppressed anger and a fierce desire to defend me. I let out a small breath of relief. Maybe in the older Jack’s timeline, something had drastically changed. But the 24-year-old Jack, the one here with me now, was still completely mine. But then, the older Jack spoke again, and my heart seized in my chest. “If you don’t believe me,” he said with a cruel smile, “I can help you see the truth about your own heart.” 2 Worried I would notice something was wrong, Jack moved into the guest room, using the excuse that he didn’t want to disturb my rest. The next morning, he left for work before I woke up. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that he called to say he wouldn’t be coming home that night. His tech startup had recently moved to a new office park on the other side of the city, so it wasn’t unusual for him to stay over when he worked late. But this time, a deep sense of unease settled over me. I called him back. His voice was tinged with a weary sort of patience. “Nina, the project is about to launch. I’m just so busy.” “Once we’re live, I’ll propose again, I promise. I’ll give you the wedding you deserve.” Hearing the exhaustion in his voice, I felt a pang of guilt. I was about to tell him to take care of himself when he cut me off. “Gotta go, a line of code just bugged out. It’s going to be a long night.” “Be good, okay? Take care of yourself and the baby. Love you both.” He hung up. I stared at the blank screen, stunned by the abruptness. A second later, a friend request popped up on my phone. The profile picture was a close-up of a succulent. I had a feeling it was someone I knew, so I accepted. They didn’t say a word. They just sent a video. In the video, Jack was at his computer, typing intently. Sitting right beside him, beaming, was Chloe. Her voice, sweet and cheerful, drifted through the speaker. “Jack, thank you so much for helping me with this proposal. I would have been here all night without you.” They were so close their shoulders were almost touching. Jack didn’t seem to notice or mind. He just turned his head and gave her a small smile. “It’s no problem. Girls shouldn’t stay up all night; you’ll get wrinkles.” An invisible hand squeezed my heart, and I could barely breathe. So this was his “busy night.” Helping Chloe write a proposal. For the next few days, Jack didn’t come home. And every day, “Succulent” sent me messages. Videos and photos of Jack and Chloe. At first, it was one a day. Then it became several. I learned that when Jack told me he was busy, he was actually taking Chloe to theme parks, going shopping with her, or staying late at the office to help with her work. In the first few videos, Jack seemed indifferent toward her. But as the days passed, the look in his eyes when he watched her grew softer, warmer. I watched the videos and photos over and over, unable to sleep. The initial shock and anger slowly curdled into a numb, chilling heartache. It was time for us to talk. 3 I asked Jack to meet me at our favorite restaurant. I waited for over an hour. The food had gone cold by the time he finally arrived. He was wearing a new suit I’d never seen before, and there was a smudge of cream on the cuff. The older Jack followed him in, his face a thundercloud. “Today is Chloe’s birthday. Why did you leave her to meet this woman? She’s all alone.” “If you go back now, you can still make it for the cake.” Jack ignored him, his jaw tight, and sat down beside me. A faint, unfamiliar woman’s perfume drifted toward me. My stomach churned, and I subtly shifted away. “Project keeping you that busy?” I asked. He didn’t seem to notice my discomfort, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, we had to add a new feature last minute. It’s been chaos.” He reached for my hand. “I’ve missed you this week. Have you missed me?” I pulled my hand back before he could touch it. “I can’t stand sweet smells right now.” He finally noticed the cream on his cuff and fumbled for a napkin. “Oh, uh, one of my colleagues had a birthday. I must have brushed against the cake on my way out.” But I had seen the video. He’d gotten that smudge while helping Chloe bake her own birthday cake. His movements faltered, his gaze shifting away from mine. “Sorry, Nina,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “The job I was saving for you at the company… I gave it to an old classmate.” “Her name is Chloe. We went to the same high school. Remember her?” “She was having a really tough time at her last job, her boss was a nightmare, so… I gave her the position I’d promised you.” I gripped my water glass, my knuckles turning white. A cold dread spread through me. His startup was his dream, and it desperately needed someone with advanced programming skills. To help him, I’d turned down a high-paying job my professor had arranged for me. I’d poured my heart and soul into building his technical framework. Now that the project was finally taking off, he had casually given away the core technical role he had promised me. I looked him straight in the face, deciding to give him one last chance to be honest. “I remember she had a crush on you in high school. Are you helping her because you feel sorry for her, or because you have feelings for her?” Jack’s pupils constricted. His voice rose. “That was ages ago! Of course I don’t like her! You’re pregnant, you’re emotional. Don’t say things like that!” Realizing how harsh he sounded, he softened his tone, taking my hand in his. “You have a master’s degree, Nina. Any company would be lucky to have you. She only has an associate’s degree. It’s hard for her to find a good job in this city. Just… let her have this one.” My heart turned to stone. I calmly pulled my hand away. Under his expectant gaze, I nodded. “Fine. She can have it.” If Jack was destined to fall in love with Chloe, then I, the temporary placeholder, needed to cut my losses and get out. 4 We never did eat that cold meal. Jack’s phone rang. He answered, his voice instinctively softening. “Chloe? What’s wrong?” I couldn’t hear what she said, but his brow furrowed. “Don’t worry. I’m on my way.” He hung up and looked at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Nina, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go. You eat first, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I sat there until the restaurant closed for the night. He never came back. That evening, I went home and scheduled an appointment for an abortion. I placed a hand on my flat stomach. This unexpected child would never get to see the world. If there was anyone to blame, it was your father, whose love and promises were as fleeting as the wind. I started packing my things. After seven years together, the gifts Jack had given me filled two large boxes. A custom night-light, matching watches engraved with our initials, pillows with our photos printed on them, a couples’ jigsaw puzzle, a thick stack of tickets from all the trips we’d taken… He used to say that each gift held a memory of our time together, that when we were old, we would show them to our children and tell them the stories. I had cherished every single one. Now, they were just junk, painful reminders of a love that was dying. I threw them all in the trash without a second thought. When I arrived at the clinic, the doctor told me after a preliminary check that my health was too poor for the procedure. It would be safer to build up my strength first. I’d lost my appetite recently, and my weight had plummeted. She prescribed some supplements and told me to get more rest. I was to come back for another check-up the following week. I walked home with the medicine, and as I reached my apartment building, I saw two figures arguing in the hallway. Or rather, the 34-year-old Jack was trying to drag the younger Jack away. My Jack was holding a small velvet box. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the faint scar on his collarbone. He’d gotten that in college when we went hiking. I’d slipped, and he’d thrown himself forward to catch me, his skin scraping against a sharp rock. He shoved the older Jack away. “Get off me!” he growled. “I’m going home to see Nina!” “Why are you even going back?” the older Jack, impeccably dressed, shot back. “You’re already falling for Chloe, so why are you still planning to propose to Nina? If you’re worried about the baby, just have her get rid of it.” “Shut up! Chloe and I are just colleagues. I only love Nina.” My Jack’s eyes burned with a stubborn, youthful defiance. “You’re the one who cheated, you bastard. You have no idea how much I care about her.” “Is that so?” the older one sneered. “Then why are you so happy when you’re with Chloe? When her boss was giving her a hard time, you gave her the job you promised to Nina.” He took a step closer. “And if that’s not love, then how do you explain this: when Nina had morning sickness and couldn’t eat, you ordered some random soup online for her. But when Chloe casually mentioned she was craving that special ramen from downtown, you drove halfway across the city to get it for her.” My Jack froze. “I… I only felt sorry for her,” he stammered. “You told me about her difficult childhood.” I felt a wave of nausea. I turned to leave, but he saw me. He quickly pocketed the velvet box and rushed over, grabbing my hand. His voice became gentle. “When did you get back? I tried calling you.” I pulled my hand free, my face a blank mask. “Just now. What is it?” He seemed relieved, not knowing that I could see his older self, that his bizarre argument with the air wasn’t a secret. He took my hand again, pulling me toward the elevator. “I’ve been so busy with work lately, I’ve neglected you. I’m sorry about dinner yesterday. I booked the same restaurant again. Let’s have a proper meal tonight.” “We don’t need to eat. I have something to say to you.” I tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He led me to the car, settled me in the passenger seat, and leaned over to buckle my seatbelt. Just as he had done countless times before, he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his smile soft. “I have something to say to you, too. We can talk over dinner.”

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The girl who murdered three people had my face. So, they arrested me. They extracted my memories for a global live stream. Turns out, my brain is full of things that need a censor bar to be shown. The judge, red-faced with anger, demanded, “What on earth do you spend your time watching?” I feigned surprise. “Why? You want the links?” The internet audience: LMAO. They let me go, admitting they’d arrested the wrong person. But did they really? 1 In the courtroom, the judge’s voice boomed. “Defendant, the surveillance footage is crystal clear. Are you still going to deny it?” I licked my dry lips, repeating the same words I’d said a thousand times over the past few days. “I didn’t kill anyone. That wasn’t me!” But the evidence was right there. A wave of murmurs rippled through the gallery. “Tch, three lives lost. If it wasn’t her, who was it?” “The nerve of her. The Smiths were such decent, hardworking people, and she just butchered them!” “And that poor girl, Jessica. Same age as her. Such a tragedy…” The judge slammed his gavel, and the room fell silent. I delivered my final statement. “Memories don’t lie. I will submit to a Memory Trial to prove my innocence.” In this age of advanced technology, the memories of the most heinous criminals were extracted and broadcast live as a warning to the world. It was a brutal process. The subject endured not only excruciating physical pain but also the complete annihilation of their private self under the public gaze. For humanitarian reasons, the Memory Trial was reserved only for those already sentenced to death. I was the first person in history to demand it for myself during a trial. 2 The courtroom, which had just quieted down, erupted again. The judge stared at me, his eyes unblinking. I met his gaze, my jaw set, my intention clear. The case of a fragile-looking eighteen-year-old girl accused of murdering three people, boiling their remains, and feeding them to dogs was too sensational to ignore. The public, driven by a morbid curiosity, craved the gruesome details more than the truth itself. The judge was only human. He was no exception. After he gave his consent, I was led into a massive, sterile chamber. The only sounds in the white room were the steady beeps of machinery. Orderlies and technicians strapped me onto a bed. In a few minutes, my entire life, my every thought, would be on display for the world to see. I felt a strange thrill, like opening a mystery box. I was actually a little excited to see what they would find. A rainbow of wires was attached to my body, and a searing pain shot through my skull. Within seconds, my body started convulsing uncontrollably. Then, an image flickered to life on the massive screen, accompanied by text transcribing my thoughts. These were my memories. 3 In a dimly lit room, I was burrowed under my covers, the sound of rain tapping against the window. The faint glow of my phone illuminated my face, revealing a sly, almost perverted grin. Whispers broke out in the gallery. “Creepy. Is she researching murder techniques?” “Look at that smile. She has to be!” Before they could finish their sentence, the contents of my screen filled the broadcast. Android x Female CEO, Multiple Scenarios… What I was browsing made jaws drop, both in the courtroom and in homes across the world. Well, damn. Everyone sat up straighter, their faces flushing as they continued to watch, utterly captivated. Hours passed. My memories consisted of nothing but browsing websites, binge-watching anime, and reading web fiction. The judge was gritting his teeth, his face a thundercloud. Incest tropes, silver-haired love interests, groveling exes, gender-bender, male suffering… Where were the details of the murder? 4 Once a live stream starts, it can’t be stopped without a result. If his superiors accused him of incompetence, his career would be over. With that thought, the judge steeled himself and ordered the trial to continue. He had the technicians fast-forward, selecting memories from the days surrounding the murders and playing them at high speed. It was a way to save time, but for me, it multiplied the agony. “She’s only in pain for a little while,” a comment flashed on screen. “Those three people lost their lives.” Everyone had already decided I was a cold-blooded killer. The more I suffered, the more they reveled in it. The hum of the machine intensified, and a picture-in-picture display showed my writhing form alongside my memories. I was screaming, my voice raw with pain. People online were cheering, thoroughly enjoying the show. Their sick pleasure didn’t last long. The selected memories finished playing. There wasn’t a single shred of evidence that I had killed anyone. Not even a passing thought of murder. Aside from the… questionable start, the rest of the broadcast painted a clear picture: I was just a normal high school senior on break. Besides my phone, the places I frequented were the local park and the apartment of my elderly blind neighbor, Mrs. Gable. The time of the murder, according to the security footage, was 6 PM. At that exact moment, my memory showed me walking back from the park and eating dinner at Mrs. Gable’s. “Come on, they seriously got the wrong person.” “If it wasn’t for the Memory Trial, this poor girl would have been wrongfully convicted.” The live chat flooded with questions and outrage. The judge was sweating bullets. The murderer in the footage was a 99.9% match to me. Yet my memories proved I was completely innocent. If I wasn’t the killer, then who was? As he grappled with this, a middle-aged woman burst through the courtroom doors. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Before the judge could speak, she let out a choked cry. “She’s the only daughter I have left! Are you trying to kill her? If Chloe dies, I’ll die with her!” My mother’s voice, broadcast into the chamber. The “Chloe” she was talking about was me. The judge seized on a key phrase. He cut her off. “Wait. What do you mean, ‘the only daughter you have left’?” His career, his reputation—it all hinged on this case. A glint appeared behind his glasses as he frantically shuffled through the papers on his desk. In the section for my family members, there was a note: a twin sister, missing for twelve years. The judge’s voice was grim. “Take her memories back twelve years. I want to see what happened!” 5 The crackle of electricity filled the air. My head felt like it was being split open with an axe. This time, the pain was so intense I couldn’t even scream. A powerful electrical current tore through my consciousness, pulling everyone deep into my past. The screen flickered, showing a grainy, washed-out image. It felt like watching an old, forgotten film. In a crowded, chaotic train station, I was six years old, holding my sister on my lap as we sat on the floor. Not far from us, our parents were locked in a bitter argument. Suddenly, a couple holding their own daughter’s hand walked over to us, their smiles overly friendly. “Hey there, little ones. Where are your mommy and daddy?” The memory had been playing for less than a minute, but the audience was already in shock. The couple was none other than the murder victims, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. And the little girl with them was the third victim, Jessica, as a child. According to the investigation, the Smiths had no connection to Jessica. How did they know each other? Hooked, everyone leaned in closer. In my memory, my sister was always more outgoing than me. She wasn’t shy. She nodded and answered the couple’s questions. They offered her candy, and she chased after their daughter, giggling. As soon as my sister was out of sight, the couple tried to grab me. That’s when I realized they weren’t nice people at all. Terrified, I clung to our luggage and started wailing, my shrill cries finally drawing the attention of the people around us. My oblivious parents finally noticed something was wrong. But it was too late. The traffickers vanished into the crowd, and my sister disappeared with them, like a drop of rain into the ocean. A wave of sympathy and horror washed over the gallery. So, the sister was a kidnapping victim. Those traffickers deserved to die. Wait. The traffickers were dead. This was premeditated murder. The killer was clearly avenging the kidnapping from all those years ago. 6 The scene shifted. My father, unshaven and reeking of stale alcohol, stood over my six-year-old self, screaming. “This is all your fault! You were supposed to watch your sister!” he bellowed. “Why wasn’t it you who got taken? You must have let her go on purpose! You’re a curse, just like your useless mother! Why don’t you just die…” The audience was furious. I glanced at the live chat; it was a stream of question marks and outrage. “He has the nerve to blame a six-year-old child when he’s the one who wasn’t watching them?” “Calling him a moron is an insult to morons.” “I was saving up my daily quota of rage, but I’ll spend it all on this guy.” Their furious comments were almost funny enough to make me forget the pain. My father was a monster, but he was right about one thing. I hadn’t watched her closely enough. If I had been more alert, if I had stopped her from following them, if I had just started crying sooner… That thought had tortured me every single day for twelve years. Not a day went by that I wasn’t drowning in regret. I closed my eyes on the medical bed, unable to watch this soul-crushing memory any longer. My immense emotional distress caused the live feed to flicker and distort. The technician quickly switched to a different time period, and my near-breakdown state began to stabilize. What they had seen was more than enough to prove my innocence. The technician spoke up, his voice piped into the courtroom. “The Memory Trial is extremely damaging to the subject. May I request permission to terminate the procedure?” By now, any sympathy the audience had for the deceased had transformed into a profound sense of guilt and pity for me. They echoed the technician’s sentiment in the chat. “Chloe didn’t kill anyone! Stop the broadcast!” “They should have stopped when they went back twelve years. An innocent person shouldn’t have to endure this.” 7 My voice trembled. “Please, I don’t want to continue.” After all, the more they saw, the more of my private life was exposed. At this rate, I’d never be able to show my face in public again. The judge, however, was high on the thrill of nearing the truth. He ignored everyone. He wanted more, more clues, anything to wrap up this nationally sensationalized case as quickly as possible. Most people would assume that, with a missing twin and a solid alibi, I was simply a case of mistaken identity. The judge didn’t think so. He snorted, speaking deliberately for the audience to hear. “Chloe never mentioned having a twin sister during her interrogation. It’s highly likely she is harboring a fugitive!” It was true. I hadn’t said a word about my sister to the police. He was using that as leverage to keep me here. With no proof that I hadn’t been in contact with my sister, the tide of public opinion turned once more. “What if they’re accomplices? The judge has a point…” “If she’s truly innocent, she has nothing to hide. Let’s see more.” It was all speculation. I had the right to stop the trial. But then a thought crossed my mind. Isn’t the purpose of a Memory Trial to serve as a warning to the world? So, I said nothing. The broadcast now showed my father’s relentless abuse of my mother and me. My younger self was a tiny, wounded kitten, curled in a corner, terrified to move, lest any action trigger another beating. The man was slurring his words. “Give me the money, you bitch! I know you hid it from me…” My mother was sobbing hysterically. “Gambling again! If you hadn’t lost all our money, I wouldn’t have been fighting with you at the station that day! My Diana never would have been lost!” He bent down and slapped her across the face, then kicked her harder. The audience had been feeling sorry for my mother, but when they heard the name “Diana,” that sympathy evaporated. 8 “Anyone with half a brain knows that passing on your genes is what matters, not having a son.” “This man treats her like dirt, and she still won’t leave him?” Seeing the comments, my mother, in the courtroom, lowered her head in shame. Was she regretting not leaving him sooner? No. She was just embarrassed. She’d been brainwashed for too long, always thinking, Men mature late. In a few more years, for the sake of the kids, he’ll change. I just have to endure a little longer. If my father were still alive, she would have endured it for a lifetime, dragging me down into his shadow with her. But thankfully, my father was dead. At that thought, a small, pleased smile touched my lips. The technician gave me a strange look. I quickly snapped out of it, scrunching up my face. “Ow, it hurts so much…” I groaned. The judge scowled impatiently. “Skip this! Find any connection between Chloe and her sister!” He waved his hand dismissively, urging the technician to speed it up. The technician was a tall, handsome man. When I was first brought in, he’d looked at me as if I were a monster. But after seeing my memories, his demeanor had softened completely. Now, his eyes were full of pity. He spoke to me gently. “This next part might be very difficult. You should… brace yourself.” I nodded, trying to give him a reassuring smile. He turned back to the console, his long fingers dancing across the keyboard. My memories began to flash by like a chaotic film reel. Even in the blur, it was clear that some of those memories were the kind you only revisit tucked away under the covers. 9 I caught a glimpse of a smirk on the technician’s face. Then, the judge’s exasperated voice crackled through the speakers. “Chloe, you’re so young! What on earth are you spending all your time looking at?” You’re the ones who insisted on digging through my private life, and now you’re judging me for it? I kept the thought to myself, putting on an innocent expression. “Why? You want the links?” Of course, I said it on purpose. The judge fell silent, shooting a venomous glare at my image on the screen. The live chat went wild. “I came here for a murder investigation, not to look in a mirror.” “Hey, it’s my one hobby. I’m not killing anyone or setting fires. Leave me alone, lol.” Even through the pain, I had to stifle a laugh. But I knew they wouldn’t be laughing for much longer. Because my sister was about to show the entire world what happens to a child who is stolen. The technician hit a key, and the broadcast locked onto a single, clear memory. A girl with my face appeared on screen. She stood before me, her expression calm as she showed me the scars on her body. My hand trembled as I reached out, tracing the dense, raised keloid scars that crisscrossed her skin, a testament to years of untreated wounds. They were hideous. So hideous it shattered me. This wasn’t the body of a normal eighteen-year-old girl. Staring at the horrific marks, tears streamed down my face. My voice was a choked whisper. “Diana… does it hurt?” I’d never liked the name our parents gave her. I always called her Diana.

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On our daughter’s one-month celebration, I caught my best friend on my husband’s lap. “Ryan,” she purred, “you sure your wife hasn’t guessed I swapped our babies?” “Not a chance,” he scoffed. “That stupid bitch dotes on ‘our daughter’ nonstop. What about her brat? Why isn’t she with you?” “I tormented her for a month—got boring. Held her head underwater in the tub till she stopped moving. You’re her dad too… don’t get soft, right?” My husband looked disgusted. “Like I care if that brat lives or dies. I only married Eleanor for her family’s money. Once our daughter inherits everything, I’ll kick her out.” I wiped a tear and pretended to overhear nothing. I poured my all into raising their daughter. Twenty years later, she came back from studying abroad. I transferred all my company shares and assets to her name. At the press conference, my best friend Chloe walked up with Ryan, waving a DNA report. “Hospital mix-up years ago,” she announced. “Ava’s our biological daughter. You’ve had her long enough—time to give her back.” Ryan slid a divorce agreement and debit card across the table. “Sign this so we can be a family. Five grand on the card—payment for your ‘services.’” A cold smile tugged at my lips. “Fine.” 1 “Honey, I noticed you had a little cough yesterday, so I woke up early to make you some warm pear soup. Here, drink it while it’s hot.” Ryan, my ever-thoughtful husband, gently placed a bowl in front of me, his eyes overflowing with what looked like pure adoration. “Dad, you’re so good to Mom,” our daughter, Ava, chirped from across the breakfast table. Yes. He was. Everyone could see how well Ryan treated me. He always sensed my moods, comforting me with sweet words and thoughtful surprises. When I was sick, he was by my side, catering to my every need. In our most intimate moments, he would hold me tight and whisper that marrying me was the best thing that had ever happened to him. If I hadn’t overheard that conversation twenty years ago, I never would have believed that this tender, devoted man was a soulless monster. I took the soup and drank it in silence. A moment later, the doorbell rang. “It must be Auntie Chloe!” Ava squealed, jumping up from her chair and running to the door. There stood my best friend, her arms laden with shopping bags. “Ava, sweetie!” she beamed. “It’s getting colder, so your godmother bought you some new winter clothes. And I know how much you loved those pastries I made last time, so I brought you some more.” Ava’s eyes curved into happy crescents. “Thank you, Auntie Chloe! You’re the best!” Chloe set the bags down and pulled Ava into a tight hug. “Of course, I am, darling. You’re my precious angel! I wish I could give you everything good in this world.” She led Ava to the table and then looked at me. “Eleanor, Ava told me there’s a parent-teacher conference today. Do you think… maybe I could go?” Her face fell into a practiced mask of sorrow. “You know how it is. I wasn’t as lucky as you. I married a good man and have a perfect daughter. My ex-husband ruined my life, and that poor thing I gave birth to… she was so fragile, she drowned in the bathtub. I never even got the chance to go to a parent-teacher conference.” Her eyes darted between Ryan and Ava, a picture of tragic longing. For years, she had used her daughter’s early death as an excuse to overstep every boundary. It wasn’t just the daily visits. She planned Ava’s birthday parties every year. She took her on special outings for holidays. On Mother’s Day, she would take Ava out alone, posting dozens of selfies of their “special day” online. Whenever I questioned it, her excuse was always the same. “My poor baby is gone, and I don’t think I can ever have another. We’re best friends, Eleanor. I just want to love Ava as if she were my own.” Before I could answer, my husband chimed in. “Eleanor, Chloe’s been through so much. It would mean the world to her. Just let her go and experience it.” The three of them stared at me, their eyes filled with eager anticipation. I forced a small smile. “Of course. I’m busy today anyway.” Chloe’s face lit up. Ava clapped her hands in delight. After breakfast, Chloe whisked Ava off to school, with Ryan insisting on driving them. I watched the three of them leave, a happy little family, and said nothing at all. 2 Perhaps they thought I was so easy to fool that I’d never notice a thing. Chloe’s audacity grew with each passing year. At first, she only met Ryan in secret when I was at the office. Now, she’d find any excuse to come over, even when I was home. “Eleanor, I’ve been teaching myself to cook! I thought I’d come practice on you guys.” “Eleanor, I just got back from the countryside and brought you some fresh produce!” “Eleanor, my pipes burst! Can I please stay with you for a few days?” I knew perfectly well that she was only there to see Ryan and Ava, but I never turned her away. I welcomed her politely every time, agreed to every request. Ryan was more than happy with this arrangement. His lips would curl into an unconscious smile whenever she appeared. Sometimes, he and Chloe would exchange flirtatious glances right in front of me. Even Ava grew closer to her “godmother,” buying her a special pair of house slippers to keep at our home for her frequent visits. This charade continued until Ava’s final year of high school. The day her SAT scores were released, Chloe arrived first thing in the morning to wait with us. When the abysmal results came in, Ryan feigned outrage. “How could you score this low?” he demanded. Ava just shrugged. “We’re rich. Why would I kill myself studying? Mom can just buy me a degree from somewhere, can’t she?” Ryan shot a quick glance in my direction. Seeing no reaction from me, he pressed on. “Your mother loves you, but even she can’t let you throw your life away like this! She works so hard managing the company. You need to step up! How are you going to help her? How can she trust you with her legacy?” Chloe immediately jumped in. “Ryan, relax. Eleanor is Ava’s mother. Of course, she’s going to take care of her.” “Exactly,” Ava added. “I’m her only daughter. She owns all those companies. It’s not like she’s going to let me starve.” Chloe gave Ava a look of approval, then turned to me. “Eleanor, Ava is a good kid. You can’t let her go to some third-rate college. What if she gets bullied? Why don’t you just make her a general manager at your company? Let her start learning the ropes.” Over the years, coddled by Chloe and Ryan, Ava had become arrogant, lazy, and utterly incompetent. She didn’t even qualify for an unpaid internship at my company. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I put on a serious face. “A general manager? That’s not nearly enough. She’s my only daughter. She deserves everything I have. I’ve already made a plan. First, I’ll send her abroad to get a proper education. When she returns, I will hand over the entire company to her.” At my words, Chloe’s eyes lit up. She burst out laughing. “Yes! Exactly! A brilliant girl like Ava was born to be a CEO!” She clapped her hands. “I’ve always said it. Ava was destined for greatness. So much better than that worthless, short-lived brat of mine.” Ryan and Ava nodded enthusiastically, their faces beaming. Watching the three of them dissolve into triumphant laughter, I smiled too. They were laughing at my foolishness. I was laughing at their naivety. 3 While handling the university applications, I brought Ava to the office with me every day, teaching her the ins and outs of the business without holding anything back. The day she left for her flight, Chloe made a special trip to see her off, bringing a mountain of gifts, as if terrified Ava wouldn’t survive on her own. She fussed over her endlessly, a perfect picture of a mother’s loving concern. After Ava boarded, Chloe stood watching the plane until it was just a tiny speck in the sky. Only then did she turn away, her eyes glistening with tears. With Ava gone, Chloe’s visits became less frequent. Ryan, however, started going out more and more. He would come home looking completely drained. When I asked, he’d say he was out with friends, or that he’d joined a gym to stay in shape. When he ran out of excuses, he’d sigh dramatically. “I raised Ava myself, you know. She’s never been away from me before. I just miss her so much. If I don’t keep busy, I think I’ll go crazy.” I ignored the cloying scent of Chloe’s perfume on his collar and offered my fake comfort. “She’ll be back before you know it. Then our family can be together again.” Ryan gave me a strange, knowing smile. “Yes. Soon, our family of three will finally be reunited.” Three years later, Ava returned. Chloe, who I hadn’t seen in ages, was at our house at the crack of dawn, ready to go to the airport with us. The moment she saw Ava, Chloe burst into tears and ran to embrace her, holding her in a fierce, possessive hug. After they’d had their emotional reunion, Ava walked straight up to me. “Mom, I’m back,” she said, wasting no time. “When are you giving me the company?” I looked at her eager, impatient face and smiled faintly. “Let’s go. I’ve already called a press conference. I’m going to give you everything, right now, in front of the whole world.” 4 The press conference was a circus. The room was packed with reporters, business leaders, and the city’s elite, all gathered to witness the transfer of power at the colossal Sedgwick Corporation. Under the glare of a hundred cameras, I announced that my daughter, Ava, would be succeeding me as CEO. Then, with lawyers and journalists as my witnesses, I signed the transfer agreement, handing over every asset, every share, and every company I owned to her name. The room erupted in thunderous applause. People marveled at our deep mother-daughter bond, their eyes fixed on Ava with unconcealed envy. It was at that precise moment that Chloe and Ryan made their grand entrance, arm in arm. As a confused murmur rippled through the crowd, Chloe held up a DNA report and addressed me in a loud, clear voice. “Eleanor, I won’t lie to you anymore. Ryan and I have been in love for years. We had our daughter at the same time as you. But there was a mix-up at the hospital. Ava is our biological child. You’ve been squatting on her for twenty years. It’s time to give her back to us.” The room exploded. “Isn’t that Chloe, Eleanor’s best friend? She was sleeping with her husband and had a baby with him?” “But wait, Chloe’s baby died after a month! If they were swapped, does that mean… it was Eleanor’s biological daughter who died?” “That’s monstrous! She steals her husband, and then gets her daughter killed? And now she shows up right after Eleanor signed over her entire fortune? Is she even human?” Amid the uproar, Ryan spoke, his voice filled with self-righteous indignation. “For years, I was trapped in a loveless marriage. As a man, I tried to do the responsible thing. But night after night, I asked myself, is this the life I truly want? Eleanor provided a good life for me and Ava, but my heart has always belonged to Chloe. I’m just a man trying to follow his heart. Is that so wrong? Marriage should be about happiness, and so should divorce. I hope you can all wish us well!” He sounded like a tragic hero, a victim of circumstance finally breaking free to pursue his one true love. I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Ava. “What do you have to say about this?” Ava glanced down at the signed transfer agreement in her hands, then looked up, her expression cool. “Mom… this will be the last time I call you that. You raised me, and I appreciate that. But you’re not my real mother. Blood is thicker than water. I hope you won’t stand in the way of our family’s reunion.” Chloe smirked triumphantly. “Have some dignity, Eleanor. Just because your own defective daughter died, it doesn’t give you the right to cling to someone else’s.” Ryan tossed the divorce papers and a debit card onto the table in front of me. “Let’s get this over with while everyone is watching. There’s five thousand dollars on the card. For your troubles.” A wave of fury swept through the room. “Like father, like daughter. A whole family of vultures.” “We all know how Eleanor doted on that girl! Spoiled her rotten for twenty years, gives her a billion-dollar empire, and this is how she repays her?” “Five thousand dollars? Is he serious? That’s an insult!” “I can’t watch this. Eleanor, don’t listen to these animals!” The crowd was on my side, some even offering legal help to get my assets back. Through it all, Chloe and Ryan remained perfectly calm, as if they had prepared for any outcome. But as the room filled with righteous anger on my behalf, a quiet, chilling smile spread across my face. “Fine.” As the entire room watched in stunned silence, I signed the divorce papers. Chloe and Ryan froze, clearly not expecting me to agree so readily. They snatched up the papers, scanned them to make sure they were real, and then, satisfied, broke into wide, relieved smiles. As they basked in their victory, I spoke again. “Since you’ve given me such a wonderful surprise,” I said, my voice smooth as silk, “it’s only fair that I have a gift for you in return.” 5 “A gift? What gift?” Ryan asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. The rest of the room stared, curious. With all eyes on me, I produced an ornate mahogany box I had prepared in advance. I handed it to Ryan. “Even though Ava no longer considers me her mother,” I said solemnly, “after raising her for twenty years, she will always be my only heir. This is my family’s heirloom. Please, take it. I wish your family a lifetime of happiness together.” Ryan’s eyes widened. He hesitated for a moment before cautiously opening the box. Inside lay an antique jade ring. The crowd was baffled. “It really is the family heirloom! Has she gone completely mad? Why would she give it to these monsters?” “The shock must have broken her mind.” “Poor woman. Her husband betrayed her, her daughter isn’t hers and just stole her fortune, and her real child is dead. Who could handle that?” “Even so, she shouldn’t be rewarding them! If it were me, I’d want Chloe dead.” The audience now looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt. Chloe began to clap slowly. “Eleanor, I always thought you were just a rich fool. But today, you’ve really impressed me. You’re not just a fool. You’re a born doormat. The most pathetic creature I have ever seen.” Ava wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I’m so glad you’re not my real mother. I would die of embarrassment.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “Being married to you, Eleanor, was the greatest shame of my life. Don’t ever speak to me again. I can’t afford the humiliation.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Chloe, took his daughter’s hand, and strode triumphantly out of the press conference. I immediately became the top trending topic online. The entire fiasco had been live-streamed. The whole country had witnessed my downfall and my bizarre reaction. “Is there something wrong with this woman’s brain?” “Her biological daughter was murdered, and she’s giving her blessing to the killers? What kind of sick person does that?!” “I have never been so frustrated in my life! How can any woman be this pathetic?” “Warning: this topic may cause aneurysms. Can we please stop promoting it?” The internet was on fire. People were either furious with me or pitied me. Some even contacted me, offering to help me capitalize on the drama with a “tell-all” livestream to recoup some of my losses. I refused them all and went home. When I arrived, Chloe was already moving her luggage in. Ryan and Ava were throwing my belongings out onto the curb like trash. Seeing me, Ryan lifted his chin, his face a mask of pure loathing. “Eleanor, this house belongs to Ava now, and we’re divorced. Take your junk and get out. Don’t interrupt our family reunion.” 6 The mask was completely off. The gentle, caring man I had known was gone, replaced by this stranger filled with a deep, simmering hatred. Ava looked down her nose at me. “To live a life as pathetic as yours… it’s truly a failure. Get out. Don’t dirty my floors.” The daughter who had once looked at me with respect now viewed me as less than dirt. I said nothing. I walked over, picked up my discarded suitcase, and left without a word. I rented a small, dilapidated apartment in a rundown part of town and began my new, solitary life. A few days later, Ryan, Chloe, and Ava showed up at my door. “Is this a place for humans? A coffin is bigger than this,” Chloe complained the moment she stepped inside. Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Eleanor, you have hands and feet. Can’t you find a job with room and board? You were once the richest woman in the country. Are you happy living in this rat hole? My bathroom is bigger than this place.” I ignored their taunts and continued eating my simple meal. Seeing my composure, Chloe smirked and pulled a photograph from her purse, shoving it in my face. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, Eleanor. I wonder if your little short-lived brat is doing as well in her grave?” The photo was of my daughter. My real daughter. She was gaunt, her tiny body covered in bruises. Tear tracks stained her hollow cheeks. She looked utterly broken. Seeing me stare at the photo, Chloe’s smirk widened. “No wonder I couldn’t stand the sight of her. She was born to die young. How worthless must a child be for God himself to strike her down in her first month? So unlucky. No one ever loved her, and she didn’t even get a funeral.” Her words were dripping with scorn and triumph, as if my daughter’s death was a joyous and deserved occasion. I remained silent, my face impassive. My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate Ryan. “You really are a piece of work, Eleanor,” he seethed. “The daughter you carried for nine months is dead, and you don’t feel a thing? And all those idiots online feel sorry for you, spamming our inboxes with hate mail. Our company’s stock has plummeted because of it. You’re the one who caused all this. You’re the one who deserves to die!”

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1 On my wedding day, Adrian Mantzoukas’s childhood sweetheart, Isabelle Shaw, threatened to jump off a roof. He ignored her and continued with our ceremony. It wasn’t until she actually leaped that he finally panicked. From that day forward, Adrian sought refuge in a monastery, becoming known as the city’s ascetic heir. In the name of atonement, he forced me to copy a thousand holy texts and kneel on a hundred meters of cold stone steps, tormenting me until I lost our child. The day I miscarried, I asked for a divorce. He refused, claiming we both owed Isabelle a debt that could only be paid through a lifetime of shared penance. He threatened my family, shackling me to his side and grinding my soul to dust for the rest of my life. I opened my eyes and was back on my wedding day. This time, I decided to push him toward Isabelle. And I would become the one that got away—the ghost he’d chase into a life of solitude. … “Tell Isabelle if she wants to die, she can go right ahead. I’m not going to play her games!” Adrian’s cold voice cut through the haze. I jolted awake, my eyes focusing on my own reflection in the mirror, a stranger in a white wedding gown. I was reborn. Back in the moment I once believed was the happiest of my life. Behind me, Adrian’s face was a mask of stone, his tone sharp with impatience. In my past life, I had felt a surge of triumph in this moment, so sure that he had chosen me, definitively, over Isabelle. But now, I could see the truth. His impatience was laced with a frantic, gnawing anxiety. His heart had likely surrendered to Isabelle’s obsessive love long ago. He was only marrying me to avoid the scandal of infidelity. It took her death for him to realize the truth of his own feelings, and it drove him mad. To atone for the loss of his true love, he had trapped me in a cage of his grief. He found religion for her, but there was no mercy in his heart. He had methodically destroyed me, and our unborn child with me. The world praised his unwavering devotion to his first love and condemned me as the vicious other woman who had stood in their way. I deserved, they said, to die unloved. But it was Adrian who had pursued me for four years. He had been gentle, persistent, relentless. I only agreed to marry him because I thought his love was real. He was the one who came after me. What was my crime? This time, I wouldn’t have him. I reached out and gently tugged on his sleeve. “Adrian,” I said, my voice soft, “you should go to her. Please.” He froze, staring at me in disbelief. In the past, whenever Isabelle crashed one of our dates, I would fly into a rage. I saw her for what she was: a two-faced, spoiled brat, a childish drama queen who used her family’s power to get what she wanted. Any contact between them sent me into a spiral. Why the sudden change of heart? Seeing the seriousness in my eyes, his face hardened. “You want me to leave you at the altar to go see another woman? Stella, do you have any idea what the tabloids will do to you if I walk out of here?” I laughed silently. The tabloids couldn’t kill me. But he could. I feigned a generous smile. “I don’t care what anyone says, Adrian, as long as I know your heart is with me. Besides, we can postpone the wedding. She’s your childhood friend. If something really happened to her, I know you’d regret it for the rest of your life. And I would blame myself.” I added, for effect, “This is a human life we’re talking about. Even if she were a stranger, I would ask you to pause our wedding to save her.” My words had the desired effect. The guests murmured their approval, praising my compassion and grace. Even Adrian’s parents, who had never thought much of me, gave me a look of grudging respect. Adrian pulled me into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I knew I chose the right person,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Stella, wait for me. I’ll get Isabelle down, and then we’ll finish our wedding.” I nodded, giving him a gentle push. “Go. Saving her is what’s important.” He didn’t hesitate again, turning and bolting towards the elevators that led to the rooftop. I watched him go, my hands clenching the fabric of my dress so tightly my knuckles turned white, the only way to stop them from shaking with exhilaration. Adrian, in our last life, you hated me for a lifetime because of Isabelle. In this life, I’m setting you free. May you and your precious Isabelle have a long, long time together. To sell my performance, I stood on the stage in my heavy gown for a full hour, waiting. The guests below gossiped about the drama unfolding on the roof while casting sympathetic glances my way. Soon, Adrian returned. But he wasn’t alone. On his arm, also in a wedding dress, was Isabelle. I had almost forgotten. In my past life, she had worn a wedding gown to jump. Now, she clung to Adrian’s arm, her eyes locking with mine in a look of pure, triumphant malice. The entire ballroom erupted in whispers, the pity in their eyes now thick and suffocating. Adrian looked at me, his expression pained. “Stella, Isabelle said… she’s loved me for years. She just wants to have a wedding with me, to fulfill her one wish. She promised that if I do this one thing for her, she’ll never bother us again. So… can we just let her have today’s ceremony?” His words detonated in the hall. No one could believe it. I had selflessly paused my own wedding for him to save another woman, and he had returned with this ludicrous request. Even his mother, who had never approved of me, was appalled. “Adrian, this is absurd!” she hissed. “A marriage is not a game. You can’t just swap out the bride!” His father frowned but remained silent, his mind clearly already calculating a new angle. Adrian looked at me, his eyes pleading. “I know I’m asking the impossible. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” The guests were a sea of shocked faces, their pity now mixed with sneering contempt for the magnanimous fool who had been hoisted by her own petard. I didn’t care. I arranged my face into a mask of deep humiliation, tempered by a noble forbearance for the sake of his family’s reputation. Tears welled in my eyes. “It’s alright,” I choked out. “The moment I chose to save Ms. Shaw’s life, I decided that her well-being should be our top priority.” Isabelle immediately bristled. “It was Adrian who saved me! If he hadn’t agreed to marry me today, I would have jumped. What does it have to do with you?” Her callous words only made the crowd more sympathetic towards me. As their murmurs grew louder, Isabelle slowly realized it was my urging that had sent Adrian to her in the first place. A flush of embarrassment crossed her face, quickly replaced by her usual arrogance. “If Adrian didn’t want to save me, no one could have convinced him. It just proves that his heart was always with me.” Adrian, exposed, exploded with rage. “Isabelle! If it weren’t for our families’ friendship, I wouldn’t have given a damn! Stella has suffered enough because of you. If you say one more word to undermine our relationship, you can go right back to that roof!” Isabelle’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. Seeing that no one in the room was on her side, she lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Adrian,” she mumbled. “I just love you so much. Since… since Stella is willing to give us the wedding, let’s just get started. We shouldn’t keep the guests waiting.” Adrian looked at me, hesitating. I gave him a small, sad smile and stepped off the stage, heading for the dressing room. Before I even reached the door, the wedding march began to play. By the time I was inside, I could hear Isabelle’s deeply emotional vows. I had just finished removing my makeup and changing back into my own clothes when one of the hotel staff burst in, saying there was a commotion in the main hall. I rushed back out. The first thing I saw was Adrian pinning my nephew, Leo, to the ground, punching him. Isabelle stood nearby, her wedding dress splattered with what looked like juice. She was shrieking, “Kill the little bastard! Beat him to death!” Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. I ran forward, grabbing at Adrian’s arm. “Adrian, let him go! Stop it!” Leo saw me, his eyes red and swollen. “Aunt Stella!” he cried. He was my sister’s only child, the one person left in the world who was my blood. In my last life, he was the leverage Adrian had used to control me. Consumed by guilt for being my weakness, Leo had thrown himself from a building, ending his young life. The grief had shattered me, and I fell into a sickness from which I never recovered. To see him here, alive and whole, brought tears to my eyes. But Adrian ignored me. With a single, powerful shrug, he threw me to the ground. A split second later, a deep, pulling pain shot through my lower abdomen. An icy dread washed over me. I had almost forgotten. At this exact moment in my previous life, I was already pregnant. Seeing me on the floor finally made Adrian stop. He rushed over, trying to help me up. I shoved him away, my eyes burning with hatred. At the same time, Leo scrambled to my side. “Aunt Stella, are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with worry as he helped me sit up. I shook my head, hugging him tight. “I’m fine, Leo.” But I wasn’t. The pain in my stomach was intense. I had a terrible feeling that I was losing this baby. And it was exactly what I wanted. I was sorry for this child, but I couldn’t bring it into a loveless world. I couldn’t let it be born with his vile blood in its veins. While I was lost in thought, Isabelle’s mother stormed over. “Stella!” she snapped. “Your nephew threw juice all over my daughter! If Adrian hadn’t taught him a lesson, the Shaw family would have ruined him!” Adrian quickly added, “Stella, I only did it to appease them! I was holding back, I swear. He’s not really hurt.” I glared at him. Leo’s lip was split and bleeding, his cheek already swelling. This was him “holding back”? Adrian wilted under my hateful stare, looking down in shame. I turned to Isabelle’s mother, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Mrs. Shaw, half an hour ago, your daughter was on a rooftop, threatening to end her life. I was the one who convinced my groom to go and save her. That would make me her rescuer, would it not? My nephew, rushing here from school, saw a different bride at the altar and assumed his aunt was being humiliated. He acted rashly to defend my honor. Don’t you think my act of saving her life might just outweigh his act of spilling some juice?” Mrs. Shaw’s brow furrowed. She wanted to argue, but seeing the eyes of the crowd on her, she just snorted and fell silent. With Leo’s help, I slowly got to my feet. “Stella, you look so pale,” Adrian said, his voice laced with concern. I ignored him and turned to Leo. “Call an ambulance.” Leo immediately pulled out his phone. Adrian was frantic. “What? Why an ambulance? I just pushed you lightly. It can’t be that bad, can it?” Isabelle sneered. “She’s probably just trying to get your attention, Adrian.” Adrian’s brow furrowed. “Is that true, Stella? I don’t like it when you play these kinds of manipulative games.” Leo was so angry he looked ready to lunge at him again, but I held him back. “Help me to the entrance,” I whispered. Leo supported me as I clutched my stomach, fighting waves of pain, and made my way towards the hotel lobby. Adrian moved to stop me, but someone suddenly shouted, “Ms. Shaw has fainted!” His attention snapped to Isabelle. He swept her up in his arms. “We need a doctor!” I turned back to watch him, his face etched with worry as he held another woman. A dull ache spread through my chest. Even during our most loving moments, his choice had always, always been her. If I had only seen it sooner, my last life would not have ended in such misery. “Aunt Stella,” Leo said, his voice thick with sympathy, “you still have me. Don’t be sad. I’ll always be here for you.” I squeezed his hand, a small warmth spreading through me. “Don’t worry, Leo. I’m not sad.” He didn’t believe me. “When I grow up,” he said, his voice fierce, “I’ll never let anyone bully you again.” We had reached the hotel entrance. The hospital was nearby, so the ambulance arrived quickly. But before I could say a word, Mrs. Shaw rushed out. “Help! My daughter has fainted! Please, you have to help her!” Someone shoved me hard. If Leo hadn’t been holding me, I would have fallen. I looked up angrily to see Adrian carrying Isabelle out. He saw me, but there was no guilt in his eyes, only a sense of righteous justification. “Stella, you just took a small fall. Isabelle is unconscious. We need to find out why. Give her the ambulance. I’ll have my driver take you home.” The pain in my abdomen was getting worse. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I have to go to the hospital. Now.” I knew Isabelle was faking. I couldn’t risk my own life. Mrs. Shaw stormed up to me and slapped me hard across the face. “You bitch! Who do you think you are, competing with my daughter?” Leo tried to fight back, but her bodyguards pinned him to the ground. I crumpled to the pavement, the impact sending a fresh wave of agony through me. I looked to Adrian for help. He avoided my eyes. “Aunt Carol is just worried about Isabelle,” he said. “And this is a matter of life and death, Stella. This is not the time to be jealous.” The crowd started to turn on me, muttering that my earlier compassion had all been an act. Adrian walked right past me, carrying Isabelle, and climbed into the ambulance. Before the doors closed, he looked back at me. “Stella, you’ve always been so kind. You understand why I have to do this, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. As the ambulance sped away, I screamed his name, my voice raw with fury. “Adrian Mantzoukas, you are a monster!” A moment later, someone in the crowd pointed at my legs and shrieked. “Oh my God! Blood! She’s bleeding!”

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The news broke without warning: Teddy Thorne, heir to the Thorne empire, was secretly married and had a daughter. He held a press conference immediately. “There is no secret marriage, and I do not have a daughter.” “It is common knowledge that I have been single for years.” I stared at his cold, indifferent face on the television. Then I looked at my daughter, who was hiding in the corner, crying softly in confusion and hurt. In that moment, a years-long obsession shattered into dust. When he came home that night, I didn’t rush to the door with our daughter as I always did. I didn’t wait with breathless anticipation for the reunion that was always more passionate than a honeymoon. Instead, I opened the messages I’d received a few days ago. A receipt for a vasectomy, dated six days prior, and a single sentence: “Just say the word, and from now on, Penny will be my only child.” Tears streamed down my face as I typed my reply: “Come and get me. I can’t stay here anymore.” 01 I watched Teddy Thorne’s handsome, severe face on the screen, a strange sense of detachment washing over me. He was known for his cold demeanor and deep-seated inscrutability, a man who never let his true feelings show. But he wasn’t the work-obsessed ascetic the tabloids made him out to be. Teddy was a man of intense appetites, with powerful needs. Before he left on this business trip, he’d ignored my tears and pleas, tying my wrists with his silk tie and pinning me beneath him. Four times. I’d finally sunk my teeth into the side of his neck in a moment of overwhelmed frustration. There was probably still a faint mark there. The navy-blue tie he was wearing, the one with the subtle, intricate pattern, had been my anniversary gift to him. This was the fourth year of our marriage. We had a beautiful daughter. She had just turned three. And now, my husband—in name, at least—Teddy Thorne, had just used his coldest, most serious tone to announce to the world: “There is no secret marriage, and I do not have a daughter.” He adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. His dark eyes held a chilling light that seemed to pierce through the screen and land squarely on me. “A word of advice to those with ulterior motives: don’t delude yourselves. You will only end up humiliated.” 02 With that, Teddy stood abruptly. His bodyguards and personal assistant immediately cleared a path through the throng of reporters, escorting him to his car. My hands felt like ice as I turned off the television. The living room plunged into darkness, save for the single floor lamp in the corner casting a pale, lonely light. And in that sudden silence, I heard a soft, choked sob. I whipped my head around and saw her. My tiny daughter, standing frozen in the shadows, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide with a pain she couldn’t comprehend. “Penny?” I scrambled up and rushed to her, pulling her into my arms. “Sweetheart, why aren’t you in bed? What are you doing downstairs?” She buried her wet face in my chest, her little voice trembling. “Mommy, why did Daddy say he doesn’t have a daughter?” “If he doesn’t have a daughter… then what am I?” A knife twisted in my heart. Teddy was a man of few words, stern and serious. He loved Penny in his own way, but he was rarely home, and his smiles were even rarer. Our daughter adored him, but she was also a little afraid of him, which had made her more sensitive than other children. As my own tears began to fall, it felt as if the stubborn hope that had held me together for all these years had finally crumbled to dust. I cupped her little face, wiping away her tears. “Penny, do you want to leave this place with Mommy?” “Where will we go?” “Will we come back home later?” I looked down and managed a small, sad smile. “No, sweetie.” “This isn’t our home.” I looked into her eyes, my voice steady and serious. “This is Mr. Thorne’s house.” “We’ve stayed for a very long time, and we’ve been a bother to him.” “So now it’s time for us to leave and go back to our own home.” Penny nodded, not quite understanding but trusting me completely. “Okay, Mommy. I’ll go wherever you go.” “Good girl.” I carried her back to her room, kissing her soft cheek. “Go to sleep now. Mommy will stay right here with you.” After she was asleep, my gaze fell on the picture frame on her nightstand. It was a photo of the three of us. Our only one. In the picture, Teddy sat perfectly straight, his expression as cool and distant as ever. I was holding a one-year-old Penny, my smile a mix of shyness and bliss, my body angled slightly toward him. His, however, was not angled toward me. Once Penny was sound asleep, I took the frame and quietly left the room. As I took a pair of scissors to the photograph, a sudden, sharp realization hit me. The small gap between us in that photo, the space where our bodies never quite touched, had been left there for this very day, so I could cut along the line with ease. 03 A week later, Teddy came home. It was already ten o’clock at night. In the past, no matter how late, Penny and I would have been waiting up for him. But tonight, Penny was long since bathed and asleep. And I wasn’t in the master suite. I was in a guest room on the second floor. When I heard the familiar sound of his car’s engine, I was on the balcony, staring at the message I had received six days ago. The receipt for a man’s vasectomy. Even now, opening it made my eyes sting. “Elara, just say the word. Just nod your head.” “I will treat Penny as if she were my own.” “From now on, she will be my only daughter. No, my only child.” I stared at the words until the screen went dark, until I heard Teddy’s footsteps on the stairs, until he came down from the third-floor master suite and stopped outside my door. A knock. “Elara, open the door.” I hastily wiped my eyes and tucked my phone under the pillow. “I’m already asleep. Whatever it is, we can talk tomorrow…” But before I could finish, the door clicked open. He’d unlocked it from the outside. I was startled for a second, then remembered. This was Teddy’s house. Of course, he had absolute authority here. “Why did you move to the guest room?” He sounded displeased, his voice colder than usual. I slowly sat up and looked at him. He was weary from the long flight, pressing a hand to his brow as he spoke, his voice raspy. I ignored the last flicker of pity in my heart and looked away. “I haven’t been feeling well. I didn’t want to get you sick.” “I’m not worried about that. Move back.” When I didn’t move, he frowned, the expression almost imperceptible. “Elara?” “I’m tired. You should get some rest, too.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he strode to the bed, bent down, and swept me into his arms. “It’s been a week. Don’t you miss me?” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss me. I turned my face away. He froze, surprised, and his expression quickly soured into annoyance. “Elara Vance.” “What is this tantrum about?” 04 In four years of marriage, I had never once refused him. His needs were immense. Except for when I had my period or he was away, we were together almost every night. On any other occasion, after a week apart, I wouldn’t have gotten a wink of sleep the entire night. But back then, I had welcomed it. I was happy, even blissful. It was only in the darkness of our bedroom that I could almost believe he cared for me. Normally, I was terrified of making him angry. But in the throes of passion, a secret part of me wanted to. When he was angry, the control he so carefully maintained would shatter, and the contrast was intoxicating. We’d had a fight once. I’d run off to a friend’s place in Monaco for a week, refusing to come home. Teddy had flown there himself to get me. That night, in the most luxurious penthouse suite in the city, his face was a cold mask as he unbuckled his belt with one hand. He pressed me against the massive floor-to-ceiling window, and I cried until my voice was gone, but he wouldn’t stop. At the very end, he bit out the words next to my ear. “Elara, if you ever dare to run away from me again,” he hissed, “I will fuck you to death in this bed.” “Tears won’t help you.” I suppose I had a dark streak. The sight of him, cold and barely containing his rage, always did something to me. I loved seeing him lose control because of me. But not anymore. Now, my body felt sealed off, a stagnant pool of water, just like my heart. I struggled out of his arms. “Teddy, let’s separate.” I looked at him calmly, then gave a self-deprecating laugh. We had a child together, and yet “separate” was the only word I could use. We had no marriage license, only a private agreement. He looked stunned for a moment, then his voice hardened. “Is this because of the press conference?” I wanted to say it was more than that. That if it had only been about him denying our marriage, I might have found a hundred excuses to soothe myself. But he had denied our daughter. For days, all I could see was Penny’s hurt, confused eyes. I couldn’t bear it. “Yes.” “You know that was just for the media,” he said, his tone cool and dismissive. “I’m a very busy man. I don’t have time to cater to your emotions over something so trivial.” I tried to keep my composure, but my hands, hidden at my sides, were trembling. My eyes burned as if pricked by needles, but I held back the tears. “I don’t need you to cater to me.” “I’m serious.” “You can tear up the agreement. All I want is Penny.” A flicker of derision crossed his eyes. “You’re using Penny to pressure me. You want me to publicly acknowledge you?” “No…” “I’ve told you before, that’s impossible,” he cut me off, his voice hard as steel. “At least, not for the next few years. It’s out of the question.” “Elara, I indulge you in many things. But on this, there is no room for negotiation.” He looked down at me as if I were a stranger. The room was climate-controlled, but a deep, penetrating chill settled into my bones, making me shiver. Before we were married, my best friend had tried to gently warn me. But I had been full of reckless courage, completely fearless. “So what if Teddy Thorne is a block of stone?” I’d said. “Even a stone can be worn away by dripping water.” But now, I was giving up. I wanted to be the free-flowing water, not the single, trapped drop, destined to fall in the same spot for the rest of its life. “Think about it tonight. When you’ve come to your senses, move back to the master bedroom.” Teddy turned and left, closing the door a little too loudly behind him—a crack in his usually imperturbable facade. I pulled the covers over myself and closed my eyes. In a few days, his grandfather would be back from his winter retreat. He was the one who had arranged our union in the first place. If he gave his blessing, I could leave with Penny. The Thornes valued sons above all else. Teddy’s mother barely looked at Penny on a good day. She had her own preferred candidate for a daughter-in-law and had always despised me. I imagined she would be thrilled to see us go. 05 The next day, Mrs. Thorne graced me with a visit. She asked after Penny with feigned indifference before getting straight to the point. “I assume you saw Teddy’s press conference the other day.” I nodded. She smiled, a look of genuine pleasure on her face. “I never thought he’d be so decisive this time. Honestly, secrets never stay secret forever. There have been rumors for years, but Teddy always ignored them, never bothering to deny a thing.” She arched an eyebrow. “But this time… the moment he heard that Isabelle Laurent was divorced, he immediately denied his marriage to you.” She let out a theatrical sigh. “But I never imagined he would deny Penny, too. That boy… he’s always been so devoted. He’s been in love with Isabelle since they were teenagers. He only agreed to be with you after she got married. I really thought he’d moved on.” I sat there silently, a buzzing in my ears. She was right. He had never addressed the rumors before. This was the first time. I knew who Isabelle Laurent was. She was one of Mrs. Thorne’s top choices for a daughter-in-law. But she’d gotten engaged and married young. On the few occasions Teddy and I had run into her, he’d seemed perfectly normal. I’d never connected them. I never knew he had been in love with her for so long. So he had only agreed to his grandfather’s arrangement because the woman he loved had married someone else. “Elara, dear,” Mrs. Thorne said, patting my hand with a triumphant smile. “You’ve always been a smart girl.” “You don’t have a title, no legal standing. That’s one thing.” “But what about Penny? Do you want her to live her whole life in the shadows, just like you?” She left, and the house fell silent. The withered petals of the flowers on the trellis below were caught by the wind and scattered, disappearing without a trace. I took out my phone and opened the messages again. I read the line over and over: “Just say the word, and from now on, Penny will be my only child.” As tears began to fall, I replied to Julian Reed. “Come and get me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

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1 My father planned to ally with two top generals by marrying my sister and me to their sons. The moment General Thorne’s only son Adrian entered our home, his eyes fixed on my sister Rosalind. My match was Ken Vance—paralyzed for years and disowned by his family. In my past life, seeing Ken’s shrapnel scars and war-traumatized eyes, I felt for him. I devoted myself entirely, traveling far to find him the best doctors and using my full dowry to help him rebuild his empire from scratch. He rarely showed affection, but I believed patience would melt his cold heart. Yet at my birthday party, insurgents raided to take hostages. The “paralyzed” man sprang from his wheelchair and shoved me into their hands. Knocked unconscious and abducted, I endured three days of unspeakable torture, praying for his rescue. Instead, I learned he was using all his connections to find doctors for Rosalind’s minor injuries. I finally realized: he’d never been crippled or disowned. He’d only married me because Rosalind chose someone else—our marriage let him stay close as family to protect her. Before I died, he called, his voice icy: “I’m sorry, Clara. I lied. But I couldn’t let Rosalind die. What I owe you… I’ll repay in the next life.” When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day father told us to choose our husbands. … “Clara should choose first. She’s younger and needs a more distinguished partner,” my sister, Rosalind, said, her voice a careful performance of magnanimity, just like the last time. But the way her eyes clung to Adrian Thorne told the real story. Their gazes were so intense they were practically a physical connection. Everyone knew they’d been secretly seeing each other for ages. And today, I knew my father intended to betroth Adrian to her. In my past life, I was completely oblivious. All I could think about was the bond my sister and I had shared since we were children. So, I willingly chose Ken. I thought I was doing a noble thing, stepping aside for their love. I had no idea I was choosing an eternity in hell. Before I died, I was tortured for three days, my body broken, every bone shattered. Ken never once thought of saving me. The world-class medical team he assembled was busy hovering over Rosalind, who had nothing more than a few light scratches on her hand. She’d curled into his arms, her voice a delicate whimper. “Ken! It hurts so much! You have to save Clara! It’s all my fault, I never should have competed with her for you…” People around them sighed, whispering about how kind the Sterling family’s eldest daughter was, still thinking of her sister at a time like this. It wasn’t until my body was dumped in a landfill that she finally broke down, wailing for the news cameras. “I don’t believe she’s dead! Save my sister! Please, I’m begging you, save her!” Watching that tear-streaked, angelic face, I wanted to laugh. She was always like this—using that mask of innocence to steal our father’s love, to trick me into a disastrous marriage, and finally, to send me to my death at the hands of monsters. A cold smirk touched my lips. “Since you’re being so generous, sister, I won’t be polite.” I looked past Ken, directly at the other man. “I choose Adrian Thorne.” Rosalind stared at me, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “Clara, you know that Adrian and I…” Ken’s gaze snapped to me, a flicker of surprise in his cold eyes. My father’s reaction was more direct. He slapped me across the face, the crack echoing through the silent room. “Don’t you know your place?” he roared. “Adrian Thorne is the pride of the military command. Do you really think a star like him would ever look at an illegitimate child like you?” His voice dripped with contempt. “You know he loves your sister. What kind of venomous game are you playing?” I tasted blood, but I smiled through the stinging pain. “If it was all decided, why not just marry me off to the cripple directly? Afraid of what people would say? Afraid they’d call you biased?” A shadow crossed Rosalind’s eyes before they filled with tears once more. “Clara, how could you say that? Father has always adored you.” As we argued, Ken Vance, the man who was supposed to be paralyzed, suddenly rose from his wheelchair. “General Sterling,” he said, his voice steady and strong. “Perhaps we can make a deal.” “I’m aware the command is facing an equipment shortage. I can provide your forces with the latest generation of military hardware. My only price is Rosalind’s hand in marriage.” I never imagined he would stand up, not now, not after faking his injury for so long. I stared at him, my eyes burning with hatred. His own cold gaze met mine, and for a fleeting moment, it became a storm of conflicting emotions, laced with a flicker of guilt. And then I laughed. So, he was reborn, too. Even after watching me die a horrific death, he still couldn’t bear the thought of Rosalind marrying another man. To stop it, he was willing to expose his greatest secret—that he wasn’t injured, that he’d never been cast out by his family. Yet, in our last life, he had watched me sell off my entire dowry to pay for his “treatments.” He’d watched me mortgage my properties and take out crippling bank loans. He’d even watched me beg on my knees for money to fund the surgery for his legs. And through it all, he never said a single word. At the mention of new military hardware, a greedy light flashed in my father’s eyes. He was desperate to marry us off to solidify his position anyway. Besides, the Vance family’s influence in the military far outstripped the Thornes’. He grunted. “Since Mr. Vance is so devoted to Rosalind, then Clara, you will marry Adrian.” Adrian’s face was a mask of fury, clearly enraged by this sudden turn. His eyes, usually so charming, were now poisonous darts aimed at me. “Clara Sterling, have you looked in a mirror? You’re not worth a single strand of Rosalind’s hair! You want me to marry you? In your dreams!” My father’s expression soured. “Adrian, what is the meaning of this? The Thorne and Sterling families have been allies for generations. Are you saying my daughter isn’t good enough for you? Are you trying to break the betrothal?” Adrian’s handsome face twisted into a sneer. “With all due respect, General, I will marry Rosalind or no one. I would rather die than marry Clara.” Rosalind bit her lip, tapping his chest with a delicate fist. “Adrian, darling! Don’t say that. Clara developed a chronic illness trying to save you. Even if you don’t like her, you should at least pity her.” I’d almost forgotten. When we were ten, Adrian and I were the ones who were inseparable. We were kidnapped while traveling abroad. He broke his leg trying to escape and cried for me to save him. Without a second thought, I carried him on my back, running until my lungs burned, using every last ounce of strength to get him to safety. The ordeal shattered my own health, leaving me frail and plagued by chronic illness ever since. Adrian gazed at Rosalind, his voice thick with adoration. “Rosalind, my love, you’re always so selfless. If you hadn’t called for help, I never would have been rescued. You’re the one who saved me.” He shot me a look of pure disgust. “If you hadn’t used that debt to cling to me all these years, I would have married Rosalind long ago.” Rosalind couldn’t hide the triumphant smirk on her face, burying her head in his chest to conceal it. I had to physically restrain myself from rolling my eyes. “Well,” I said, my voice cutting through their little drama. “Since my sister has such deep feelings for both of them, why not just marry them both at the same time?” Rosalind’s face flushed. “Clara, what are you saying? If they’re both with me, who would possibly want you?” I slowly stood up. “And what if I said… I don’t want either of them?” Two sets of eyes locked onto me. Adrian’s were full of scorn, as if to say, As if you have a choice. Ken’s, however, were dark and unnerving. He watched me intently, trying to peel back the layers and see into my soul. I refused to meet his gaze. “Nonsense!” my father roared, smashing a glass on the floor. “You’re a woman! What could you possibly do if you don’t get married?” I looked him straight in the eye, my voice ringing with newfound resolve. “I know our border defenses are compromised. I will volunteer for a frontier deployment. I will go there, prove my worth, and help the Sterling family through this crisis.” In my past life, the defenses under my family’s command had failed catastrophically. Father had taken most of my dowry to bribe his way out of trouble, but it was no use. Before the Sterling family fell from grace, he transferred all remaining assets to Rosalind, enough for her to live in luxury for a hundred lifetimes. Meanwhile, I was living in a drafty, dilapidated workshop, working day and night to scrape together money for Ken’s treatment. At my lowest point, I knelt before Rosalind and begged her for a loan. She had her guards drag me out and lock me in solitary confinement. The military doctor had told me Ken’s surgery only lacked a few crucial medicines. Any further delay would leave him permanently disabled. Desperate, I swallowed my pride. I betrayed my own principles to get him what he needed. And it was all for nothing. A fool’s errand. I pushed the memory away. With a bitter laugh, I deleted Ken’s contact information and boarded the military transport heading for the frontier. No one in the frontier forces thought much of me, seeing me as nothing more than Rosalind’s pale shadow. I didn’t care. I was determined to prove myself with action. In my previous life, my world had revolved around Ken. Now, throwing myself into training, I discovered a talent for strategy and tactics that I never knew I had. Even my commanding officers were impressed. After successfully completing a critical border mission that had been stalled for three years, I was summoned to meet with the High Command. My reputation skyrocketed. I became known as a tactical prodigy, a hero of the armed forces. My fame even began to eclipse Rosalind’s, the so-called “jewel of the military.” My father, who seemed to have forgotten I existed, finally called. The moment I answered, he started screaming. “Clara, has success gone to your head? It’s almost the anniversary of your mother’s death, and you won’t even come home?” My mother was the one soft spot left in my heart. I arranged for my duties to be covered and went home. After visiting her grave, I was stopped on my way out. Rosalind stood there, wearing her usual fake smile, but her eyes burned with an envy she couldn’t conceal. “Sister, you must have been working so hard.” Her voice dripped with false concern. “You spend all your time at the base now. I’m not trying to stop you, but you’re a woman, surrounded by men day in and day out. You’re disgracing Father’s name!” She leaned in closer. “Do you know what people are saying? That you slept your way to the top. That you sold intelligence for commendations.” Her eyes flickered to Ken, who was standing beside me, and she smirked. “I know you’re only doing all this to get a man’s attention.” “So, Father asked me to tell you. He’s already found you a fiancé. It’s the eldest son of the Zhao family—the one in a coma.” “Starting tomorrow, you won’t be returning to the base. I’ll be taking over your position. It’s for the best. We can’t have you parading around, shaming us all.” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “What’s the matter? Is it so unbearable that the little sister you’ve always pushed down is finally better than you?” She flinched, her eyes wide with shock. But I was done holding back. The words poured out of me, a torrent of long-suppressed rage. “On what grounds do you think you can take over the defenses I bled to secure? On the grounds that your mother was a mistress? Or on the grounds that Father had to pull strings just to get your mediocre ass into the military academy?” I stepped closer. “An illegitimate child, lecturing me? Telling me to step aside? Who gave you that confidence?” Rosalind’s face crumbled, and she burst into tears. “Sister, I’m only trying to help you. How can you misunderstand me like this?” “Help me?” I scoffed. “I’m sure. You know, for the ‘jewel of the military,’ you should learn to be content. Father has given you more than enough. Stop coveting what my mother left behind for me.” Rosalind looked at me with wounded eyes, her voice choked with sobs. “I know you’ve never liked me, but I just don’t want to see you work yourself to death…” I had no patience for her act. I turned to leave, but Ken’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist and slamming me against the wall. His eyes were dark pools, his voice a low rasp. “You’ve gone too far.” Seeing him leap to her defense was so utterly predictable it was almost funny. Ken’s gaze hardened. “Apologize to Rosalind.” I slapped him. The sharp crack echoed in the silence. “Are you done, my dear sister’s devoted fiancé?” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “If you want to have a scene, take it outside. Don’t disgust me in here.” His head was turned from the force of the blow, a few strands of hair falling across his forehead, giving him a strangely broken look. “You…” His voice was hoarse, as if he couldn’t comprehend that I had actually struck him. I shoved him away and went to pack my things, intending to leave that very night. But as I was about to board my flight, I was ambushed. Adrian Thorne grabbed me by the throat, his face contorted with rage. “This is all your fault! Rosalind ran out last night after you upset her, she ran into a mugger, and she was shot! She’s in surgery, bleeding out. You’re coming with me to save her!” Thankfully, the guards assigned to my protection detail quickly tackled him and pinned him to the ground. I stared at him like he was insane. “She was shot? Then take her to a hospital. What good am I? Did I force her to run into a bullet?” Adrian glared at me, his eyes promising murder. “If you hadn’t insulted her, called her mother a mistress, she wouldn’t have been so devastated! She wouldn’t have run out! This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? For her to die!” “I’m telling you, if anything happens to Rosalind, I’ll make you pay with your life!” A mocking smile played on my lips. “You and what army?” “And me,” a cold voice said from the doorway. Ken stepped inside, flanked by a squad of heavily armed mercenaries. Adrian snarled, “Stop wasting time with her. Rosalind is losing too much blood. Tie her up and drag her to the hospital for a transfusion!” To me, he spat, “You destroyed Rosalind’s peace of mind. Now you can atone for it.” My guards were quickly overpowered. Adrian yanked me up by my collar and slammed me to the ground. The side of my face scraped against the rough floor, the pain bringing tears to my eyes. But I only looked at Ken. “Ken, I’ll only ask you this one last time.” My voice was quiet but steady. “Can’t you see she’s faking? That this is all just another one of her self-pitying, manipulative games?” Ken closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, the last trace of hesitation was gone. “I know.” It was so absurd I almost laughed. They both knew her tricks, and yet they were still willing, once again, to throw me into the abyss for her. On the way to the hospital, Ken let out a soft sigh. “You were reborn, too.” I just laughed. “Reborn or not, what’s the difference? You would never choose me.” “I’m sorry.” I turned to look at him, the absurdity of it all washing over me. “Ken, two lifetimes, and is that still the only thing you know how to say?” He leaned in suddenly, his lips crashing against mine in a rough, desperate kiss. He murmured against my mouth, “Clara, just endure this one last time.” “It’s just a little blood. You’ll be fine.” “After this is over, I’ll marry you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” I just smiled, a dead, empty thing, and said nothing. At the hospital, I was dragged straight into a transfusion room. As the crimson liquid flowed from my arm into the blood bag, I felt my strength seeping away. Ken and Adrian were already gone, pacing anxiously outside the operating room. “How is Rosalind?” No one asked if I was dizzy. No one noticed how ghostly pale my face had become. When they switched to the second bag, my vision started to go black. A nurse looked worried. “This young woman is severely anemic. If we take any more, her life could be in danger.” Ken heard her and frowned, his hand instinctively closing over mine in a hollow gesture of comfort. “Rosalind’s not out of surgery yet. Just hold on a little longer.” I stared at the light fixture on the ceiling, a profound weariness settling deep in my bones. “Ken,” I said softly. “Let’s just let each other go.” His eyes flickered, and he opened his mouth to say something. But just then, a cry of alarm came from the operating room. He shot up, rushing toward the door. “What happened to Rosalind?” A surgeon emerged, his brow furrowed. “A bullet fragment is lodged in her heart. We can’t remove it. She needs an immediate heart transplant!” “Get her next of kin in here for tissue matching. We can’t afford to wait.” Before the words were even out of his mouth, every eye in the hallway turned to me. Our father had a heart condition. Her only other living relative… was me.

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1 At the Robotics Grand Prix, just as my daughter, Zoe, was about to accept her award, a well-dressed woman suddenly rose from her seat. “I believe this esteemed academy has a rule,” she announced, her voice cutting through the applause. “A five-million-dollar donation secures an extra ten points in this year’s competition. This card holds five million. The first-place trophy belongs to my son!” A hush fell over the auditorium. The principal, after a moment of stunned silence, gave a hesitant nod. Zoe stood frozen on the stage, her face a mask of confusion. “But… I’m the real winner!” The woman’s son, Leo, shot Zoe a look of pure contempt. “So what if you work hard, Zoe Reed? I have a father who can buy me the world. The internship at the advanced research lab? That’s mine now.” Tears welled in Zoe’s eyes. I walked up and squeezed her hand, my gaze fixed on the mother-son duo, their chins held so high they might as well have been sniffing the clouds. “Five million, you say?” I asked, a gentle smile playing on my lips. “Are you sure about that? Why don’t we verify it right now?” The woman, Veronica, nodded with theatrical pride. “Of course. My husband has more money than he knows what to do with. Run it now!” My smile deepened. The card she was brandishing was a supplementary card linked to my primary account. It was the pocket money I gave my trophy husband. … Veronica shot me a dismissive glance before handing the card to the school administrator with a flourish. Someone in the crowd gasped. “Is that… a Black Diamond card? You only get one of those with verified assets in the billions!” “Oh my god, Leo Vance’s family must be one of the elites!” Veronica basked in the adulation, her eyes sweeping over the crowd with undisguised arrogance. She then looked at Zoe, her expression a sickening mix of pity and scorn. “You have your parents to blame for this, little girl. They can’t cough up five million. No matter how hard you commoners struggle, you’re just stepping stones for people like us.” Zoe’s face flushed crimson. “That’s not fair!” she cried out, her voice trembling with indignation. “I won first place!” She had poured her heart and soul into robotics, preparing for this competition for three long years. The advanced lab internship was her ultimate dream. Murmurs rippled through the parents in the audience. “This is just cruel to the child,” one person sighed. “Welcome to the world of elite private schools. For the super-rich, money is power, and privilege trumps fairness. It’s a harsh lesson, but one she has to learn.” Even the principal shook his head at Zoe. “Rules are rules, my dear.” Leo’s grin widened into a sneer. “See? I told you you couldn’t beat me, Zoe Reed. What good is your talent? Your hard work is worthless next to my family’s wealth!” He turned to his mother. “Mom, can I go get my prize now?” Veronica shot me a triumphant smirk. “Of course, darling.” Zoe’s small face crumpled, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She kept muttering, a defiant mantra under her breath, “I’m the winner… I’m the winner…” My heart ached for her, but I also felt a dark amusement. I leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Mom, are you serious?” I gave her a knowing nod. “Just watch.” As Leo puffed out his chest and swaggered toward the stage, the administrator rushed over, his face pale. “Mrs. Vance, this card… it’s been locked. The transaction won’t go through!” Veronica’s brow furrowed. “Impossible!” she snapped, her voice sharp. “You hicks probably don’t know how to use it!” The administrator helplessly held out the card reader. A shrill beep echoed through the silent hall, followed by a cold, robotic voice: “TRANSACTION DECLINED.” “How can that be?” Veronica staggered back a step, her face a picture of shock. A few parents couldn’t stifle their snickers. “Mrs. Vance, did you find that card on the street?” “If you don’t have the five million, why put on the show? So embarrassing!” Veronica’s face burned with humiliation. She snatched the card and swiped it again and again, each attempt met with the same robotic voice. “TRANSACTION DECLINED.” “TRANSACTION DECLINED.” The whispers grew into open laughter. Leo was getting frantic. “Mom, what’s going on? I want my trophy!” Watching Veronica’s composure crumble, I stepped forward. “Well,” I said with a serene smile, “since it appears Mrs. Vance can’t produce the five million, I suppose first place still belongs to my daughter.” Zoe’s face instantly brightened. She gave me a quick wink and started toward the stage. “Wait!” Veronica’s voice was a low growl. “There’s a problem with the card, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the money. That award belongs to my son, and I’m not leaving without it.” Her eyes, dark and furious, locked onto mine. She pulled out her phone and made a call. A moment later, I heard the familiar voice of my husband, Julian Sterling. When Veronica hung up, the smug confidence was back on her face. “Don’t you worry, sweetie. No one is taking this prize from you today. It’s yours!” She shot me a look brimming with challenge. I let out a cold, quiet laugh. Just now, Veronica and Julian had put on a sickeningly sweet display of affection over the phone, their intimate tones making my stomach turn. Seconds later, my own phone rang. It was Julian. He didn’t even bother with a greeting. “Audrey, what the hell is wrong with the card I gave you?” he demanded. “Call the bank and unlock it. And while you’re at it, raise the credit limit to fifty million!” I remained unnervingly calm. “What do you need that much money for?” “Business, entertaining clients! Stop asking stupid questions and just do it!” I lowered my gaze, hiding the arctic storm brewing in my eyes. After more than a decade of pulling the strings of a corporate empire from the shadows, anyone who truly knew me recognized this quiet fury. It was the signal that someone was about to face utter ruin. How utterly laughable. A kept man, living off my family’s fortune, daring to not only keep a mistress under my nose but to bark orders at me. I had clearly been too lenient, letting him forget who held the leash. Seeing my silence, Julian fired off a few angry voice messages and then went quiet. Meanwhile, Veronica held up her phone, displaying her bank app for all to see. The balance read exactly five million dollars. She offered a prim, polite smile, but her eyes screamed victory. “There, you see?” she said to the administrator. “I told you. A family like ours wouldn’t blink at five million. Fifty million would be nothing. It’s not like those people who live paycheck to paycheck, pinching every penny just to scrape together a few thousand.” She shot a pointed look in my direction before turning to Zoe with feigned sympathy. “Better luck in the next life, little girl. Try to be born into a family that can protect what’s yours.” Zoe just smiled sweetly back at her. “Don’t worry, ma’am. What’s mine, no one can take away!” I stepped up beside her, my own smile unwavering. “That’s right. What belongs to my daughter, stays with my daughter.” “It’s only five million, after all.” The well-meaning principal hurried over to me. “Mrs. Reed, five million is a fortune. To them, it might be the price of a handbag, but for an ordinary family, it’s a life-altering sum. I know this internship is important, but please don’t risk your family’s entire future over it.” Other parents joined in, urging me not to act on pride. Of course, the sycophants had to chime in too. “How much could she possibly make in a year? Trying to play high-roller like the Vances. She’ll probably have to mortgage her house!” “Some people just can’t accept their place. They have no idea what league they’re in!” It was my own fault, really. I’d always taught Zoe the value of humility and discretion. To everyone here, we were just an average working-class family who had gotten into this elite academy on Zoe’s academic merit alone. My eyes scanned the ring of bootlickers, my mind instantly connecting their faces to the companies they worked for. A plan began to form. I turned back to the principal with a polite smile. “I’ll do as Mrs. Vance did. I’ll wire the money directly to the school’s account.” DING! “INCOMING TRANSFER: FIVE MILLION DOLLARS.” The electronic notification blared from the principal’s phone, plunging the room into stunned silence. Then, someone yelled, “Holy crap! Zoe Reed’s mom actually did it! She sent five million dollars!” Veronica’s face darkened. Gritting her teeth, she furiously tapped on her phone. A moment later, another alert rang out. DING! “INCOMING TRANSFER: TEN MILLION DOLLARS.” The crowd erupted. “Ten million?! Are they insane?” “This is what you call real power! You have to hand it to Mrs. Vance, she’s in a different league!” After three massive donations in as many minutes, the principal was visibly sweating. Leo puffed up his chest. “My mom is the best!” Veronica savored the renewed wave of praise, ruffling her son’s hair. “Don’t worry, son. Your father told me, whatever you want, he’ll support you no matter the cost. What’s ten million to us?” Indeed, what’s ten million? I thought. A trophy husband using my money to prop up his mistress and bully my daughter. He had no idea what was coming for him. I was almost curious to see how far he would go for them, and just how much of my money he had siphoned off behind my back. Under Veronica’s arrogant gaze, I spoke, my voice calm and steady. “Twenty million.” Every head in the room snapped toward me, faces etched with disbelief. “Is she crazy? Where would she get twenty million dollars?!” Veronica sneered, “Talk is cheap…” Before she could finish, the crisp sound of an electronic voice cut her off. DING! “INCOMING TRANSFER: TWENTY MILLION DOLLARS.” The notification echoed, reaching every corner of the room. My smile widened. “I don’t mind contributing to the cause of education. Would you care to continue? I can do this all day.” “Oh my god, the Reeds are not who we thought they were! This is incredible!” The principal wiped his brow again, a look of ecstatic disbelief on his face. He turned to Veronica. “Mrs. Vance… will you be making another donation?” Veronica’s triumphant expression had vanished, replaced by a cold, dark stare. She whipped out her phone and dialed Julian again. A few moments later, a smug grin returned to her face. She deliberately unfolded her high-end phone, angling the lock screen for everyone to see. Someone with sharp eyes pointed. “That man on her screen… that’s Julian Sterling! The CEO of the Stellaris Group! My god, he’s Leo’s father!” “Look, it’s a picture of the three of them! A perfect family. I can’t believe the legendary titan of industry, known for his genius and sophistication, could look so… happy and domestic.” “Well, that settles it. Zoe’s chances are officially zero. No matter how much money her mother has, you don’t cross the Stellaris Group in this city.” One of the more sympathetic parents rushed to my side. “Mrs. Reed, stop now, please. Everyone in Bayview knows how powerful the Stellaris Group is. If you offend them, you’ll be blacklisted. You could lose everything!” Veronica strode toward me, her chin held high. “I was trying to be discreet,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “but some people are just blind. Now do you understand? You may have a bit of cash, but to a dynasty like ours, you are nothing.” I raised an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. “So you’re saying your husband is Julian Sterling, the CEO of the Stellaris Group?” “Mom, that’s clearly…” Zoe started to say, but I quickly squeezed her arm and gave her a subtle wink. She caught on instantly and fell silent. Veronica and Leo, too wrapped up in their moment of glory to notice our exchange, simply took it as a sign of my submission. “That’s right,” Veronica preened. “Finally scared, are you?” A malicious smile spread across her face. “You’ve offended me today. But I’m feeling generous. If you and your daughter get on your knees and bow to me and my son three times, right here, in front of everyone, I’ll tell my husband to let it go.” “Otherwise,” she purred, “he might just have to bankrupt your family.” “And you, little girl,” she added, turning to Zoe, “you can forget about robotics competitions. You won’t even be able to afford school anymore!” Zoe’s temper flared. “You are the most shameless person I’ve ever met!” She spat defiantly on the ground at Veronica’s feet. Leo saw this and lunged at her. “You little bitch! How dare you disrespect my mother!” My expression turned to ice. In a flash, I stepped in front of Zoe and shoved him hard. He stumbled backward and fell, landing with a sickening crack. A pained scream filled the air. “Mom! My knee! It’s bleeding! It hurts!” Veronica shot me a murderous glare. Seeing the bloody gash on Leo’s knee, her eyes turned feral. “You’re going to pay for this,” she snarled. “My husband is on his way. The Stellaris Group’s legal team isn’t for show. You and your daughter can rot in jail for the rest of your lives!” I simply raised an eyebrow. That saved me the trouble of getting Julian here myself. My corporate assistant and my top legal counsel were already en route, carrying divorce papers and Julian Sterling’s termination letter. Today was judgment day for this cheating scumbag and his trashy mistress. Hearing that Julian Sterling himself was coming, the sycophants swarmed around Leo, clucking with faux concern, trying to curry favor while shooting venomous barbs at me. “See? This is what happens when trash doesn’t know its place. You can’t handle the wrath of a man like Mr. Sterling! Get ready to lose everything!” “You can forget about school, Zoe. Start learning how to pick through garbage with your mother!” “Garbage picking? That’s too slow! I’m sure she knows faster ways to make money on her back, just like her mom! Hahaha!” Just then, a sleek black Cayenne screeched to a halt at the curb. “That’s a Stellaris Group executive car!” someone shouted. “Mr. Sterling is such a devoted family man! He got here so fast! It’s over for the Reeds. Completely over!” The crowd’s malice was a tangible thing, their glares like daggers. Veronica’s face was twisted in a grotesque mask of triumphant glee. “My husband is here, you bitch!” she shrieked. “Your judgment day has come!”

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1 The day they found long-lost daughter Isabella, she walked into my office and demanded my job—she wanted to be CEO. Given her middle-school education and zero corporate experience, I refused. Isabella took it as a grave insult. She stormed out with her adoptive parents and vanished without a trace. Under my leadership, Vance Enterprises went public. My adoptive parents, Richard and Carol Vance, became the city’s wealthiest couple. Then on my thirtieth birthday, they and my fiancé Ethan got me drunk and sold me to a human trafficking ring in the lawless eastern bloc. As I was dragged away, I saw them standing by the ringleader, faces twisted with hatred. “Take this black-hearted bitch,” they snarled. “She’s all yours.” I screamed, begging for answers. Ethan kicked me hard in the stomach. Richard and Carol each slapped me, the blows echoing. “If you hadn’t been so greedy, clinging to a fortune that never belonged to you,” they spat, “our Bella wouldn’t have been tricked, trafficked, and tortured to death.” The torment that followed was unbearable. In the end, I bit off my tongue and bled out. When I opened my eyes, I was back—on the exact day Isabella demanded I hand over the company. … “Ellie,” Isabella said, her voice cloyingly sweet, “now that I’m home, don’t you think you should give the company back to me? I want to take on my rightful responsibilities.” The familiar words sent a jolt of ice through my veins. My eyes shot to the clock on the wall. I was back. I had been reborn. Carol Vance, my adoptive mother, was hugging Isabella, her eyes red-rimmed as she looked at me. “Elara, you’ve worked so hard taking care of the company all these years,” she said, her tone syrupy but firm. “But Bella is our real daughter. I need you to draw up the papers. Transfer your shares to her.” In my past life, I had refused. I explained that the company was on the verge of its IPO; a sudden change in leadership would cause chaos. I told them Isabella, with no experience or understanding of the business, wasn’t ready. I suggested she start as my assistant, learn the ropes, and then take over when she was prepared. My adoptive parents had actually agreed. But Isabella had exploded. She shrieked that being my assistant was the same as being my slave, that I was deliberately humiliating her. She stormed out, disappeared with her adoptive family, and was never heard from again until news of her death reached us. After her disappearance, I took the company public, making the Vance family dynastically wealthy. On my thirtieth birthday, they took me on a celebratory trip abroad, where they drugged me. I woke up in a hellhole, my hands and feet bound, my body brutalized, while they stood by and watched. Ethan kicked me in my three-month-pregnant stomach. Carol and Richard slapped me until my face was numb. “This is what you owe her,” they’d hissed. “If you hadn’t shamed her, she never would have run away. She never would have died. This is all your fault.” So, they’d blamed me. They’d traded my life for their twisted sense of justice. Remembering the agony, the sheer, soul-crushing despair, my hands clenched into fists. I fixed Isabella with an icy glare and let out a cold laugh. “So, you just get back and you already want the company.” Isabella’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Ellie, I… I just wanted to do something for the family,” she sobbed. “I shouldn’t have come back. Please don’t be angry. I’ll leave right now. I won’t disturb your family anymore.” With that, she made a show of pushing Carol away, pretending to run for the door. Carol immediately wrapped her arms around Isabella, clutching her tight. “Bella, darling, this is your home,” she cooed, her face a mask of pain. “You’re not the one who should be leaving.” The next second, the back of her hand cracked across my face. She pointed a trembling finger at me, her voice shrill. “Elara! After we were kind enough to take you in, to raise you, this is how you repay us? By trying to steal our family’s fortune and drive our real daughter away? How could you be so venomous?” Richard Vance, my adoptive father, chimed in, his face a thundercloud of disapproval. “Elara, this is a Vance company. It belongs to our daughter by birthright. What gives you the authority to tell her to leave?” I laughed, a bitter, ragged sound. They seemed to have forgotten. It was Grandpa Vance who adopted me. Before he died, he put the company in my hands. At the time, it was on the brink of bankruptcy, drowning in over a hundred million dollars of debt. I was the one who begged and clawed and fought to save it, wrecking my own health in the process. Richard and Carol, knowing they had no clue how to run a business, had washed their hands of it, leaving me to clean up their mess. In return, I gave them a lavish monthly allowance to fund their endless parties and vacations. I was the one who personally bought back the majority of the company shares. The only reason I hadn’t changed the name from Vance Enterprises was out of respect for Grandpa Vance’s memory. And now they had the audacity to demand it back? I turned to Richard, my voice dripping with scorn. “Three years ago, when this company was collapsing, you threw me to the loan sharks. You told them I was the boss and they should come after me for the debt. Now that we’re about to go public, you want to hand it all to your daughter? Where do you get the nerve?” Richard’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. He raised a fist to strike me. “You ungrateful stray! We raised you! Managing this company was your duty, your way of paying us back! It belongs to my daughter! You were just keeping her seat warm.” I caught his wrist, twisted his arm back, and he howled in pain. The boardroom is a battlefield of its own; I’d spent three years learning Krav Maga to survive it. A pampered fool like Richard was no match for me. Carol charged at me, her hand raised to slap me again. I blocked her arm and shoved her, sending her stumbling to the floor. Her whole body trembled with rage. “Elara, you ungrateful monster! You dare to lay hands on us? You have no soul!” Isabella rushed to help them up, then knelt dramatically at my feet. “Ellie, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come back and disrupted your family. Please, don’t hurt Mom and Dad anymore. I’ll leave. I’ll disappear, I promise.” Richard and Carol clung to her, their eyes shooting daggers at me. “Elara, you’re the one who needs to get out.” I rolled my eyes and looked down at Isabella. “Fine. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your happy family reunion. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers to formally sever our ties.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out of the Vance mansion for the last time. Three days later, I was in a board meeting when my assistant burst in. “Ms. Vance, uh, Mr. and Mrs. Vance are downstairs with your sister. They’re causing a scene and demanding to see you.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, and went downstairs. The moment Richard saw me, he started shouting. “Elara, this is the Vance family company! On what grounds are you barring us from entry?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’d bothered to show your faces here more than once a decade, the security guards might actually recognize you.” Carol stepped forward, adopting a tone of magnanimous condescension. “Elara, in recognition of your years of hard work, we’ve decided you can stay on. But Bella will be the new CEO.” Richard shoved me aside and pulled Isabella into the center of the lobby. “From this day forward, my daughter, Isabella Vance, is in charge! Elara will assist her.” Isabella glided to my side. “You’ve worked so hard, sister. From now on, we’ll run the company together.” I scoffed. “You? You’re nothing. Do you really think being CEO is a title you can just claim? By company bylaws, the CEO must hold a majority of the voting shares.” Their faces darkened. They started screaming. “Shameless! After we raised you from nothing, you’re trying to steal our legacy and bully our daughter! You’re not fit to lead this company!” Just then, my fiancé, Ethan, appeared. “Elara, the Vances gave you everything. You can’t be this selfish,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “Give the company back to Bella. Once we’re married, you can be a stay-at-home wife. I’ll take care of you.” A humorless smile touched my lips. “Ethan, your engagement was to the Vance heiress. Well, she’s back. That makes Bella your fiancée. You and I are nothing. So who the hell do you think you are to lecture me? Do you even have the right?” Ethan’s face turned crimson with rage. Isabella immediately dropped to her knees again. “Ellie, I swear I never wanted to take Ethan from you! I just want what’s rightfully mine!” Ethan’s heart clearly melted. He rushed to pull her into his arms, then glared at me. “Elara, you’re a monster. Disowning your family just to hold onto power. You don’t deserve to marry me. If you don’t give this company back to Bella, the engagement is off.” I was tired of their theatrics. “You want the company? Fine. You can have it. But I have two conditions.” Ethan smirked, thinking he’d broken me. “As long as you give the company to Bella, we can get married immediately. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” I fought the urge to hit him and turned to Richard and Carol. “First, you sign the severance agreement. From this day forward, I have nothing to do with the Vance family. Second, the shares I hold were bought with my own money after you sold them off during the bankruptcy. If you want them, you’ll buy them from me. At current market value.” Their faces fell. “This is our family’s company! You want us to pay you for it?” I shrugged. “The shares I own are mine, legally and financially. They have nothing to do with you. You don’t have to buy them. The company is about to go public. The stock price will skyrocket. Plenty of other people will be lining up to buy them from me.” They gritted their teeth, huddled with Ethan, and after a long, whispered conference, they agreed. One billion dollars for my shares. The moment the papers were signed, Ethan wrapped an arm around Isabella, his eyes full of scorn. “Well, Elara, since you’ve chosen to burn every bridge, you can get the hell out of this building. This is Bella’s company now.” Isabella nestled against him, looking at me with undisguised triumph. “I hear the company is about to partner with the Dorff Corporation, the biggest conglomerate in the country. The stock value is going to increase tenfold. Thank you so much for giving me such a golden opportunity, Ellie.” My former parents looked just as smug. “You brought this on yourself, Elara. Don’t come crying to us when you regret it. But, out of the goodness of our hearts, if you want to be Bella’s assistant, we can offer you… say, fifteen hundred a month. Just so you don’t starve.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. Fifteen hundred a month to be their slave? They really thought I was an idiot. “No, thank you. As of today, this company and all of you are nothing to me.” I turned to leave. Ethan shouted after me, “Don’t come crawling back to us when you’re broke and starving on the street!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. What kind of moron thinks someone with a billion dollars in cash is in any danger of starving? As soon as I was out of the building, I made a call. “Aunt Eleanor? It’s me. The partnership between Dorff and Vance Enterprises? Cancel it.” After I got her confirmation, I made another round of calls to the remaining shareholders I knew. I told them to dump every last share of Vance stock they owned. A massive sell-off would trigger panic. The stock would plummet. And that was just the beginning. Finally, I posted a public announcement on my social media accounts: I was officially resigning from Vance Enterprises. Then I went back to my private apartment, sank onto the couch, and began to plan. My debt of gratitude to Grandpa Vance was paid in my last life. This life was for revenge. The Vances and Ethan made me suffer a fate worse than death. Now, it was their turn. That evening, my aunt called. Richard and Carol probably never knew that a year ago, I’d found my biological family. My father’s sister, Eleanor Vance, was the Chairwoman of the Dorff Corporation and the wealthiest woman in the country. It was with her quiet backing that Vance Enterprises had grown from a struggling firm into a billion-dollar company on the verge of an IPO. Aunt Eleanor had no children and had been searching for me for years. When she found me and learned how I’d saved the Vance company, she’d wanted me to join Dorff Corp and eventually become her heir. I had refused, feeling bound by my duty to Grandpa Vance. Now, hearing that I’d finally cut ties, she made the offer again. I thought for a moment. “Aunt Eleanor, I want to build something of my own first. When I’ve proven myself, I’ll come back.” I didn’t want to be anyone’s heir. I wanted to be a founder. Understanding my resolve, she didn’t push. “Alright, Ellie. But if you need anything, you call me.” After we hung up, I dug up a business plan I’d written five years ago. It was my original dream, to build my own empire from the ground up, a dream I had sacrificed for the Vances. Now, I could finally begin. A month later, I posted job openings and my new company’s mission statement online. My phone immediately exploded. The first call was from Richard and Carol. I answered, and their smug, condescending voices filled my ear. “Elara, starting your own business, are you? It’s not as easy as it looks. If you come back now, apologize to Bella, and beg for her forgiveness, we’ll consider letting you have a job again.” The sheer arrogance was breathtaking. I hung up and blocked their numbers. Moments later, messages and résumés started pouring in from the core team at Vance Enterprises, my former employees. They all wanted to join my new venture. I was deeply moved, but I warned them: I was a startup. My initial capital was just over a billion dollars. It was a risk. They didn’t care. They said if I could rescue a dying company like Vance, I could build a new one into a powerhouse. They believed in me. I was grateful. A skilled, loyal team was exactly what I needed. I promised them all better salaries than they’d ever gotten at Vance. Within a week, my company was fully staffed and operational. As for clients, that was the easy part. I’d just take them from Vance Enterprises. After all, I was the one who had secured most of their major contracts in the first place. My new company was small, but I knew my own capabilities. Three nights later, I found myself across the table from one of Vance Enterprises’ most crucial partners, ready to make my first move.

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1 My Ph.D. acceptance letter had just arrived when my advisor, Professor Davies, called—he wanted me to lead a research project in Tehran. But my girlfriend Ava begged me to decline, urging me to take a local job instead. She claimed she was from three years in the future, where she’d watched me die in an airborne missile attack. I believed her. I passed the opportunity to her childhood friend Julian. Three years later, Tehran was perfectly safe, and Julian returned a celebrated hero. At the university’s distinguished alumni ceremony, he took the stage: “I want to thank Ava specially. She was my north star—guided me right and supported me when no one else would.” Their “star-crossed love” story went viral as a tragedy. Forums overflowed with pity for them and scorn for me. It got so bad that online vigilantes doxxed me and showed up at my apartment building. “Give Ava back to Professor Lin! You don’t deserve her!” they screamed. In the scuffle that followed, I was shoved down a flight of stairs. The last thing I heard was the crack of my skull. Then I woke up—back in my apartment, on the eve of my planned departure. Listening to Ava’s “heartfelt” pleas, I pulled off the silver ring we’d exchanged and tossed it into the campus lake. “I’m going to Tehran, Ava. We’re done.” … The ripples spread across the water’s surface, a perfect metaphor for our three-year relationship, now dissolving into nothing. Ava’s lips trembled, her almond-shaped eyes instantly welling with tears. “Leo… you don’t believe me? I’m really from three years in the future!” She gripped my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “You can’t go to Tehran! You’ll die!” “Ava, your storytelling is worse than a middle schooler’s creative writing project.” I laughed coldly, prying her fingers off one by one. I pointed to my own temple. “Do you want me to call Clearwater Psychiatric for you? They have the best doctors in the city.” Her face flushed a deep crimson. A tear splashed onto her collar, darkening the fabric. “Leo Vance!” She raised her hand as if to strike me, but it froze mid-air. The hand, still adorned with the matching bracelet we wore, fell limply to her side. “Leo, I’m not lying… I really did travel back in time to save you…” I scoffed and pulled out my phone. “Should I call you an ambulance now? The ones from Clearwater are white. They’d match your dress perfectly.” Ava’s expression twisted, tears streaking her mascara down her cheeks in two black rivers. Her eyes were bloodshot as she glared at me. “You’ll regret this, Leo! You’ll regret it!” She spun around and stormed away. “Wait—” I called out just as she turned. Her body went rigid. As she slowly turned back, a hopeful smile was already blooming on her face. A second later, she flew into my arms. “Leo… you do believe me, don’t you? I knew you would…” She looked up, her face a mess of tear tracks, a single crystalline drop clinging to her eyelashes. I looked down at the face so close to mine—who could have guessed such a venomous scheme lay hidden behind that angelic mask? My expression remained blank as I stepped back, putting distance between us. “I just wanted to remind you to get your things out of my apartment. Today.” Ava’s pupils contracted, her chest heaving. “Fine! That’s just fine!” she seethed through clenched teeth. “You think I even want any of it?” Back at the apartment, she stomped into the bedroom in a huff, slamming the closet door with a loud bang. I calmly retrieved three large storage bins and began tossing everything—her clothes, her makeup, even her toothbrush—inside. I didn’t spare the framed photo on the nightstand, her favorite one of us. When I stuffed the birthday gift she gave me last year—the matching scarf she’d knitted herself—into the bin, she froze. “Leo…” Her voice was suddenly soft, trembling with disbelief. “Are you really… going to be this cruel?” I didn’t answer, instead sweeping the various trinkets she’d given me from the bookshelf into a box. A ceramic mug slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor—one of a matching pair she’d made herself. She grabbed my arm, tears streaming down her face like a broken string of pearls. “Is this how you treat me? For caring about you? For being afraid you’ll get hurt?” “Don’t you have a heart?” I slapped her hand away. “Save it. Your acting skills wouldn’t even get you into drama school.” She staggered back, her expression shifting from wounded to venomous. “You’ll get what’s coming to you! I can’t wait for the day you come crawling back to me, begging!” Watching her slam the door on her way out, I clenched my fists until my knuckles were white. I could still hear the phantom sound of my own skull cracking. In my last life, it was this exact, pitiful act that convinced me. I gave up the Tehran project, only to watch from the sidelines as Julian basked in the glory that should have been mine. This time, there would be no repeat performance. I let out a long breath and began to pack. My flight was tomorrow afternoon. There was still much to do. Just as I zipped up my carry-on, my phone buzzed violently on the desk. I unlocked it to see my class group chat exploding with messages. Holy crap, have you guys seen the university forum? Someone’s predicting a plane crash tomorrow! They even listed the exact departure time and the cause of the malfunction… Has to be a prank, right? But the details are way too specific… My heart sank. I opened the forum. A pinned post was titled: URGENT WARNING: FLIGHT DEPARTING AT 10:20 AM TOMORROW WILL CRASH. The author was listed as “Anonymous.” My finger hovered over the screen. I could almost picture Ava’s triumphant smile. I remembered this incident vividly from my past life—the plane’s engine failed on takeoff, and it crashed back onto the runway. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured. Besides me, a man reborn, only Ava, the “time traveler,” would know about it. But no one would ever ground a flight based on an anonymous, unsubstantiated prediction. The next day, the airport was bustling. I had just cleared security when Ava blocked my path. She’d artfully applied makeup to look exhausted, complete with faint, bruised shadows under her eyes. “Leo!” She clutched my boarding pass, her voice thick with tears. “You saw the warning on the forum, didn’t you? Please, don’t gamble with your life…” Julian appeared out of nowhere, standing behind her in a sharp suit. “Leo, Ava is worried sick about you. Is this how you treat her?” I let out a cold laugh. If I hadn’t lived this all before, I might have actually been moved by their little performance. Just as I was about to push past them, the airport’s PA system crackled to life, its voice cutting through the noise. “Urgent announcement regarding flight DH555… due to a mechanical failure… I repeat, all passengers please evacuate the boarding gate immediately…” A commotion rippled through the crowd. Through the terminal’s massive windows, we could see a passenger jet tilted at an odd angle on the runway, a plume of black smoke billowing from its tail. Ava’s tears came on command. She grabbed my arm, her hand trembling. “Now do you believe me? I’m really doing this for your own good…” A tear clung to her eyelash, sparkling in the sunlight. “Stay, Leo. Please? We can start over…” I stared at her manicured fingertips—they were unconsciously stroking the cuff of Julian’s sleeve. How familiar. In my past life, not long after she’d convinced me to stay, she had appeared on Julian’s arm at that alumni gala. “Move.” I pulled my arm free and headed for the information desk. Ava’s tearful shout followed me. “You’ll regret this, Leo!” When I got home, my phone was buzzing nonstop. The campus forum had gone nuclear. Ava had revealed herself. To all my fellow students, I am the anonymous user who posted the plane crash warning. I come from three years in the future to save the man I love, @LeoVance. The message sent the group chat into a frenzy. I was being tagged relentlessly. Leo, is this for real? This is some sci-fi movie shit! Did Ava finally snap? I stared at the screen, saying nothing, my fingers drumming a silent rhythm on the table. It was a brilliant move on her part—she knew it was impossible to verify, but she’d chosen the most sensational way to make her claim. Then, Ava dropped another bombshell. Three years from now, a war will break out in Tehran. Leo Vance will be killed in an airstrike. @ProfessorDavies, I’m begging you, please choose someone else! A vein throbbed in my temple. I quickly typed a reply. Professor, today was a coincidence. Mechanical failures are common. I am still fully committed to the project. Ava replied instantly. Leo, why won’t you just believe me? She followed it with a broken-heart emoji. Fine. How about this: tonight at 11 PM, there will be a fire in the South End, started by an electric scooter battery. If I’m right again, will you give up the project? Julian immediately jumped in to support her. I can vouch for her. Ava has accurately predicted several things before. The chat exploded. People were demanding a live stream to witness the event. Others started tagging friends who lived in the South End to go check. My hand tightened around my phone until my knuckles were white. I remembered that fire. It had been on the local news in my past life. The minutes ticked by. At precisely 11:00 PM, dozens of messages popped up at once. Well? Nothing’s happening. LOL, Ava’s magic show flopped. So the plane crash was a lucky guess? And Julian was in on it… But in the next second, a low boom rolled across the city, audible to nearly everyone. In the distance, an orange glow lit up the night sky over the South End, and the faint wail of fire sirens could be heard. HOLY SHIT IT’S REAL! AVA IS A PROPHET! Leo, for the love of God, don’t go! The tone of the group chat changed on a dime. I gripped my phone, my knuckles bone-white. It rang. It was Professor Davies. “Leo, the department held an emergency meeting. We’re revoking your travel clearance. This project…” “Professor!” I cut in, my voice urgent. “The fire, the plane, they can all be explained…” “That’s enough!” Professor Davies’ tone was uncharacteristically harsh. “The university cannot risk a student’s life. The department will select a new candidate for the project tomorrow.” The dial tone was like a slap across the face. I hurled my phone against the wall. Its shattered screen reflected my own distorted face. Just then, it lit up with a text from Ava. Now you have to believe me, Leo. It was followed by a nauseating heart emoji. The next morning, I walked into the department conference room with dark circles under my eyes. Around the corner, Julian and Ava stood together, as if they were waiting for me. “Well, look who it is. Why does our resident genius look like he’s been through a meat grinder?” Julian leaned against the windowsill, looking me up and down with exaggerated pity. He leaned in close, his voice a low whisper. “Pulling an all-nighter won’t help you. The Tehran project… it’s mine.” Ava gently tugged on his sleeve, her voice dripping with false concern. “Leo, Julian is just worried about you. Tehran is too dangerous…” “Get out of my way,” I said, my face a cold mask. Julian immediately wrapped an arm around Ava’s shoulders, glaring at me. “It’s over, Leo. Just accept it.” “While I’m in Tehran publishing a lead author paper in Nature, you can rot in this dingy lab forever.” Ava playfully tapped his chest, but couldn’t hide the smile playing on her lips. I pushed past them without a word and shoved open the conference room door. The chatter inside died instantly. A dozen pairs of eyes—some sympathetic, some curious—fixed on me. The graduate assistant, a kind junior student, handed me a cup of coffee. “Leo… are you, uh, okay?” I managed a tight smile and said nothing, walking directly to the podium. The hum of the projector starting up sounded like the frantic pulse in my temples. On the flash drive was all of my research from my past life—optimized quantum algorithms, material simulation data, even a first draft of the paper I had planned to publish. “Professors,” I said, tapping the microphone, my voice hoarse. “I believe this project can only be completed by me—” Before I could finish, the door swung open again. Ava walked in elegantly on Julian’s arm. Julian strode directly to the podium and snatched the microphone from my hand. “Professors, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to present my own research proposal first,” he said, a confident, winning smile on his face. When his PowerPoint presentation lit up the screen, my blood ran cold. The charts, the data models, even the goddamn color scheme—it was all identical to what I had prepared.

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