The first thing I heard when I opened my eyes was her whisper, choked with perfectly crafted sobs. “I just… I hate that she has my face.” The voice belonged to Seraphina Vance, America’s sweetheart, influencer, and the woman I was created to be a carbon copy of. The man she was whispering to was Ashton Blackwood, my husband, the billionaire CEO who owned half of Silicon Valley and, apparently, me. “I want you to destroy it,” she breathed. I felt the air shift. Ashton’s deep voice, the one that could make markets tremble, was about to utter the two words that would seal my fate: “Bodyguards.” Before he could, my fingers, already anticipating this, tapped the screen of my phone. The slick, upbeat jingle of a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon’s commercial filled the tense silence of the penthouse living room. “Tired of sharing a face? At Elite Aesthetics, your beauty is YOURS alone. Unforgettable. Unique. Unparalleled.” In that moment, the roles of hunter and prey were about to be reversed. 1 Ashton’s brow furrowed, a thundercloud gathering on his handsome face. “Lily, what the hell is this?” I adopted my gentlest, most wounded tone. “Ashton, darling, if Seraphina is so upset about us looking alike, it must be because my face is just… unbearable to look at.” I let a small, fake tear well in my eye. “So, instead of hurting me, why don’t you just book an appointment for her? A little nip, a little tuck, and poof! Her face will be one-of-a-kind again.” To my calculated surprise, Ashton actually nodded, his logic-driven brain latching onto the “solution.” “Seraphina, honey, I think Lily has a point. It’s a great idea. I’ll book you the best surgeon in LA tomorrow.” Seraphina’s crying choked off instantly. She shot me a look that could curdle milk. “She’s a malicious bitch!” she shrieked. Oh, the irony. You wanting to have my face melted off isn’t malicious, but me suggesting a nose job is? The hypocrisy was thick enough to cut with a knife. I took out a silk handkerchief and dabbed at my dry eyes, my voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. “I was only trying to help. I feel so bad for you, Ashton, having to deal with all this drama. I just wanted to ease your burden. How could she misunderstand me so terribly?” Ashton’s masculine ego puffed up like a peacock. He turned to soothe his precious Seraphina. Incensed, Seraphina blurted out, “Then why don’t you make her get the surgery?” Ashton’s mouth, which had been opening to reason with her, froze in place. He looked like a fish, gaping and silent. It was almost comical. Seraphina, seeing her advantage, pressed on, her voice now a saccharine promise. “If she gets surgery, Ashton, I’ll never bring up this whole ‘stand-in’ thing again. We can finally be happy.” The billionaire tycoon, hearing the magic words, actually started to nod again. My internal alarms blared. I had to cut in, fast. “Seraphina, it’s no use if I get the surgery!” I cried out, my voice laced with faux desperation. 2 “And why not?” she demanded, stepping closer. I bit my lip, looking from her to Ashton, as if I were holding a terrible secret. “I… I can’t say.” “You have no reason, you’re just trying to trick me!” she accused, her voice rising. Ashton’s gaze turned suspicious. It was now or never. I took a deep breath and let it all out in a rush of feigned innocence. “Because I’m not his only one!” I exclaimed, loud enough for the entire penthouse to hear. “There’s Tiffany in Tampa, Brittany in Boston, Chloe in Chicago… Ashton has a whole network of girls who look like you, scattered all across the country! There are hundreds of us!” Silence. Dead, deafening silence. I ignored the greenish tint spreading across Seraphina’s face and continued in my most helpful tone, “So you see, even if I change my face, there are still all the others. It would take him a year and a half just to track them all down. The only permanent solution… is for you to change yours.” Ashton started coughing violently, a desperate, hacking sound. He turned to Seraphina, his eyes overflowing with a sudden, desperate love. “Seraphina, baby, I just… I made a mistake any man would make. Please, forgive me.” Her voice was a syrupy sweet whisper. “Oh, Ashton. I’m not angry with you.” I saw my opening and took it. “See? Miss Seraphina is so understanding. She must have agreed to the surgery, then.” She choked. “I…” Ashton, desperate to please, made a grand promise. “I’ll get you the top surgeon in the world, I swear. It’ll be perfect. Flawless.” Trapped, with no other way out, Seraphina had to agree through gritted teeth. “Then you have to promise you’ll only love me from now on.” “I promise.” It was such a touching scene of reconciliation. And here I was, his legal wife, feeling like the third wheel in their twisted love story. Seraphina shot me a triumphant, hateful look. “Ashton, I have one more condition. I want Lily to be my personal caretaker through my recovery.” Ashton, the ultimate simp for his one true love, agreed without a second thought. 3 That night, I tossed and turned in my bed, replaying the original script in my head. In the novel I’d somehow been thrust into, today was the day Ashton was supposed to scar my face with boiling water. Then, Seraphina would have tricked me into a back-alley surgery that would have completely destroyed my face. After that, she’d get a minor injury, and Ashton would break my legs in retaliation before throwing me out. I’d end up sold by one of his enemies into some underground hellhole, contract a disease, and die a beggar on the streets. Meanwhile, Ashton and Seraphina would live happily ever after with their nine kids and a goddamn picket fence. It was the most ridiculously skewed, insane plot I had ever read. The author clearly didn’t give a damn about anyone but the main couple. Well, screw that. The old Lily was gone. This was where the new Lily—the real me—took over. Thinking about Seraphina’s post-op face, a wicked grin spread across my own. Botox disaster or full-on melted Ken doll? I couldn’t wait to find out. 4 As expected, the unexpected happened. Oh, wow. So much for the “top surgeon in the world.” The hack job he did wouldn’t even pass muster at a strip-mall clinic in rural Texas. Her entire face looked like a lump of rising dough that had been left out in the sun. Her chin had the structural integrity of a melted candle. And her lips, the pouty feature Ashton had adored, were now two swollen, fleshy worms that couldn’t quite close. I had to dig my nails into my thigh to keep from bursting out laughing. Seraphina threw herself at Ashton, her sobs wet and muffled. “Ashton, boo-hoo, I can’t let anyone see me like this!” Even Ashton couldn’t stomach the sight. He physically turned his head away. Seraphina stared in disbelief. “You’re disgusted by me too, aren’t you? I can’t live like this!” She then began a dramatic, slow-motion run for the window, looking back over her shoulder every three steps. Ashton followed in an equally theatrical pursuit. “No, honey, I’m not! Seraphina, don’t do anything stupid!” I watched the cringey, slow-motion scene from a soap opera play out before me. Honestly, if Ashton had just walked at a normal pace, he would have caught her in five seconds. “Seraphina, I’ll love you no matter what you look like!” “Oh, Ashton!” “Oh, Seraphina!” Blech. I literally felt my stomach churn. Before, when she cried, it was a delicate, heart-wrenching sight. Now, it was like watching a water-injected ham try to emote. It was an assault on the eyes. I needed to go bleach them. 5 Ashton came downstairs, holding a tray of food with a frustrated look on his face. “You. Go make Seraphina eat.” I pointed at myself, feigning confusion. “Me?” His patience snapped. “If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened to her!” He turned to the butler. “For every meal she misses, you will slap Lily ten times and deny her food for the day. You stop when Seraphina starts eating.” I saw the butler’s hand twitch as he started towards me. Fine. You want to play hardball? I gritted my teeth. “I have a way.” I was fuming. What did I ever do to these people? Did I burn down their ancestors’ log cabin? They wanted her to eat? Simple enough. I stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a handful of supplies, and marched upstairs, not forgetting to snatch the tray of food from Ashton’s hands on my way past.

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The year I married my mortal enemy was the year I died. Because I was tragically beautiful and my death was inconveniently sudden, the Guide who came to collect my soul granted me an extra hour to say my goodbyes. A nice gesture, but my list of loved ones was short. My mother was long dead, my father had remarried, and my brother and my childhood best friend were too busy fighting over my stepsister to care. They hadn’t even glanced at the hospital’s frantic calls, let alone started planning a funeral. I hovered in the morgue, staring at my own shattered body, when I had a brilliant idea. My dear husband. The second he picked up, I launched into my performance. “Hello? I’ve been kidnapped. Venmo me fifty bucks, or your precious wife and the little heir to the Thorne empire are going to die…” That call, the one he hung up on, would become the great tragedy of Julian Thorne’s life. 1 I pitched my voice high and syrupy, a caricature of a damsel in distress. “It’s gonna be a really messy death, you know. Like, Humpty Dumpty messy. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men won’t be able to put me back together again.” “Aw, what a shame for Mr. Thorne’s little baby. Never even got to say ‘daddy.’ Too bad. I was really looking forward to having a kid who looked like both of us, just to piss you off.” “Nothing to say? Knew it. You cheap bastard. You were probably hoping I’d die sooner.” “Well, whatever. Thanks for picking up. Vera the Great forgives you. From now on, live a good life. And you’d better find a wife who’s prettier than me, or I’ll be seriously disappointed.” “And hey, for old times’ sake, bury me somewhere busy, okay? I don’t want to be lonely. Actually, forget it. You’ll probably just toss my ashes in the garbage.” “One last thing, Julian… I love you.” I choked out those last three words, a bitter, struggling sound. I took a deep, non-existent breath, fighting the urge to vomit. After delivering my half-true, half-prank final testament, I felt a lightness spread through my soul. That bastard Julian Thorne had hated my guts since high school. An exiled, illegitimate son of a tycoon, he’d made it his life’s mission to one-up me and sabotage me at every turn. After we got married, he spent his nights out, never coming home, and always had a scowl reserved just for me. I’d been dying to mess with him one last time. He was on a business trip when the accident happened. He’d come home to a box of his wife’s ashes. Heh. Die quietly and see how the enemy reacts. Perfect. 2 The Guide floated beside me, clicking his tongue. “That was incredibly messed up.” I shook my head. “You don’t know him. That son of a bitch has been cold-blooded since birth. If a line of people were jumping off a bridge in front of him, he’d just cross his legs, pull out his phone, and post it to his Instagram story.” “Wow. Is that a human thing? Where I’m from, we don’t usually call the person we have hate-sex with a ‘stranger.’” “Please. That was just biology.” I paused, considering. “He’s worse than a stranger. A stranger jumping off a bridge gets an Instagram story. If I jumped, he’d kick me so hard I’d land in Paris, just to get me out of his sight.” “But I thought you were, like, universally beloved?” the Guide asked, confused. “I am. There are eight billion people on the planet. If 0.0001% of them like me, that’s still eighty thousand people. By any metric, that makes me a sensation, right?” 3 It was true, though. My mother gave me her stunning looks and her equally terrible temper. I was bossy, arrogant, and self-centered. Besides my brother, Leo, and my childhood friend, Evan, no one ever stuck around. When we were kids, Leo adored me. He said it didn’t matter if I had a bad temper; he was the one spoiling me. If anyone said a bad word about me, he’d take care of them. He and Evan promised me I was their one and only little sister, that they’d lay the world at my feet without me having to lift a finger. I remember when I was little, I ran into the street to save a stray kitten and was nearly hit by a truck. Leo pushed me out of the way and ended up in the hospital for two months. He was barely conscious, but he gently wiped my tears and whispered, “Don’t cry, Vera. You’re more important than anything. Brothers are born to protect their sisters. I’ll always be here for you.” But I grew up, and they broke their promises. Not long after Leo’s accident, my mother died. My father married his childhood sweetheart, “the one that got away.” My new stepsister, Chloe, moved into our house. At first, Leo hated the quiet, docile Chloe as much as I did. Our father loved our stepmother more than he’d ever loved our mom, and he loved Chloe more than he’d ever loved us. Leo tormented her, locking her in the basement overnight. He told me it was because of her and her mother that our mom was gone. I believed him and never gave either of them a moment’s peace. But then, Leo changed. Chloe’s quiet resilience wore him down. He fell for her. One year, for my birthday, Chloe gave me a handmade doll. When I threw it in the trash in front of her, Leo slapped me. The shock on his face vanished in an instant, replaced by concern as he rushed to Chloe’s side, inspecting the pinpricks on her fingers. “Do you have any idea how many nights she stayed up to make that for you, Vera? When are you going to grow up?” he seethed. “I thought you and Mom were so alike. Always stubborn, always selfish, always making everyone hate you.” The mention of my mother made my vision go red. I smashed a vase over his head. From that day on, he called me a “psycho,” and I called him a “traitor.” We were at war. Later, I tried to confide in Evan, but he just sighed. “Just let it go, Vera. You’re all family.” I froze. My eyes fell to his wrist. The expensive watch I’d given him was gone, replaced by a cheap, woven bracelet. He noticed my gaze and quickly hid his hand. “Sorry, I lost the watch.” I might have believed him if I hadn’t seen that unique, one-of-a-kind watch I designed myself in Chloe’s jewelry box. She later gave it to our housekeeper as a New Year’s gift. But that flimsy, withered bracelet? Evan treasured it like gold. I told myself it was just a watch. Evan was just a childhood friend. It didn’t matter. They were all the same. I didn’t like Chloe, so they said I was bitter. They told me to move on, but they treated me like an outsider, a wolf in their perfect new family. When I got sick, Chloe would get sick too. And because she was “frail,” my pain was always dismissed as drama. “You’ve been pampered your whole life, Vera. Stop with these games for attention.” Leo seemed to forget how tough I used to be. Because Chloe was quiet and long-suffering, my pain became attention-seeking. Because she was kind and tried to befriend me, my rejection of her became me being ungrateful. Because she’d “had a hard life,” I was cut off financially in college to “build character” and make up for her supposed hardships. Leo dropped out of the police academy and switched to a business degree, just to stay by her side. With him and Evan as her champions, Chloe flourished. She learned how to be demanding, how to complain. Spoiled by their devotion, she grew into the very princess she’d replaced. She even had the audacity to smile and tell me that we were equals now; she wouldn’t put up with my attitude anymore. She was right. She didn’t have to. The moment she walked into our house, I became homeless. Silence didn’t earn me their respect, and lashing out would only get me sent to a shrink. The bright, fearless girl I once was faded into a past life. I became quiet, calculating, and cynical. My teenage years were a slow, agonizing process of being flayed alive. Now, I’m twenty-four. Or, I was. In the years since, I used every dirty trick in the book to reclaim the assets my mother left me, securing twenty percent of my family’s company. I burned every bridge, wrecked their lives, and vowed never to speak to them again. The last message in our family group chat was from two years ago, on Chloe’s graduation day. I’d crashed the ceremony. Leo, forgetting our vow of silence, was furious enough to text me. “It would have been better if you’d just died in that car crash all those years ago.” 4 Prophetic words. The bone cancer they found during a check-up didn’t kill me. A speeding sports car on a random Tuesday evening did. I died broken and bleeding, pathetically hoping the baby in my womb would finally give me a reason to live, a connection to this world. I hadn’t been loved in so long, I’d forgotten how to love back. Maybe it was for the best. My marriage was a business transaction with my nemesis. A child born into that wouldn’t have been any happier than I was. The cake I’d just bought was crushed under me. Blood dripped from my forehead into my mouth, metallic and thick. It made me want to cough, but my lungs burned like they were filled with glass. It hurts so much, Leo. Was it this bad for you? My trembling finger scrolled through my contacts. I’d meant to call Julian, but my vision blurred, and I accidentally called Leo. I didn’t have the strength to change it. Dying makes you weak. Makes you sentimental. What was I supposed to say? Would he be angry? Happy? I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell him I was scared. You promised you’d protect me forever. Why did you break your promise? But he didn’t give me the chance. The call was quickly rejected. A cold, robotic voice answered: Please leave a message after the tone. Of course. This was how it was supposed to be. But why did unshed tears hurt more than bleeding? “I… listened to you… Leo… we’re even now.” The people who loved me died in that first crash. I was going to find them. Never mind. I’m dying. Think of something else. What was I doing today? Right. It was my birthday. The baby had sparked a tiny flicker of hope in me. Pregnancy makes you foolishly optimistic. I had bought a cake and was on my way to see Julian, who had just gotten back from his trip. I was going to tell him I had a surprise. I was going to take his hand and place it on my stomach, like any normal woman, and tell my husband: I’m pregnant. I know you hate me. I know you think I’m an arrogant, petty bitch, and you’re an immature asshole. But I know you’d be a good father. Can we stop fighting? Can we start over? With this little one. Like a normal, boring family. The kind of life I always dreamed of. No chance for that now. Isn’t it funny, Julian? Fate really was determined to make us hate each other forever. The clock tower struck midnight. The massive screen on top lit up, becoming the last thing I ever saw. It was a picture of Chloe, surrounded by adoring fans on a stage. It was her twenty-fourth birthday, too. One day after mine. 5 “Okay, let’s go,” I said to the Guide, waving a dismissive hand. I’d crashed my stepmother’s parties, stolen a major deal from my brother, dumped a bucket of pig’s blood on Chloe at her graduation, and even produced an indie film about my father’s affair that went viral. And with my dying breath, I’d gotten one last jab in at my husband. My relationships were in ruins, but damn, it was satisfying. As my soul left my body, the pain vanished, replaced by a strange sense of freedom. I cackled, thinking about that “I love you.” If I were still alive, I’d be crying with laughter. I tossed my phone aside and happily followed the Guide, ready to cross over. But he coughed awkwardly and pointed at the phone’s screen. I glanced over. Call Duration—0:05. Are you kidding me? I’d forced myself through that whole dramatic monologue, and he only heard the first sentence. Whatever. I mentally crushed the phone into dust and took the metaphorical drink of forgetting from the Guide. Goodbye, cruel world. Here’s to the next life. …And then I woke up on my enemy’s bed. “Honey…” 6 My head was splitting. I couldn’t open my eyes. A deep, raspy voice whispered from behind me, sending a jolt down my spine. I knew that voice. But the owner of that voice never, ever called me “honey.” Even in the throes of passion, when I’d have him pinned down, begging, he’d only ever spit out my full name through gritted teeth. Nice one, Julian. I knew you had another wife stashed somewhere. Instinctively, I tried to kick him out of bed, but my foot met only empty air. I kicked again. Nothing. I froze for three seconds, then forced my eyes open. The bedroom was the same. The sheets were the same. The man beside me was… almost the same. He was sleeping fitfully, his brows furrowed. His normally sharp, short hair had grown out, falling over his eyes, making him look boyish, like he did in high school. But the sharp angle of his jaw and the exhaustion etched into his features gave him away. “Pathetic. Look what you’ve done to yourself.” As the words left my mouth, Julian’s eyes shot open. He sat up abruptly, staring at the wall for a long moment before covering his face with his hand. “Another nightmare, honey,” he mumbled. “You told me to bring you a ten-piece bucket from KFC as an offering. I said no, so you threatened to personally batter and fry me into a Zinger.” … A small, sad smile touched his lips. He lowered his hand, his expression shifting back to the familiar, detached mask. He turned, his gaze fixed on the spot where I was floating, his eyes empty. “You’d better have moved on, Vera. Because if I ever find you again, you’re finished.” “I’ll make you pay.” He finished his threat by flicking his finger through the air, right at my forehead. ? I was completely dumbfounded. Julian got up and started putting on a suit, his back to me. My gaze drifted past him to the full-length mirror in the hallway. Reflected in it was not me, but a creature with fluffy white arms, chubby legs, and a big, fuzzy head. I had become the ugly polar bear plushie I’d bought at the mall on a whim, just to annoy him. “Apologies, Ms. Vera,” the Guide’s voice echoed in my head, finally showing up. “There was a… clerical error at the Re-entry Department. That extra hour you were granted has disrupted the causal nexus. It’s going to cause a chain reaction of untimely deaths.” “In other words, you have to stay here for a while and, uh, save the world.” Me? All I did was make one prank call! 7 The afterlife had screwed up, and I was paying the price. But the real sicko in this situation was Julian. Julian Thorne, the ruthless, cold-hearted tycoon of Sterling City, had a thing for inanimate objects. Specifically, an ugly white polar bear he hated, which he now called “wife” in his sleep. I should have been laughing, but I couldn’t. After getting dressed, Julian rummaged through a closet and pulled out a tiny, black-and-white maid outfit. Without a word, he dressed me in it. Then he picked me up, walked past a line of stone-faced house staff, and strapped me into the passenger seat of his car. Twenty minutes later, I was sitting on his desk in his high-rise office. No one batted an eye. It was business as usual. I pieced things together. It was 2028. Three years had passed since my untimely demise. Nothing had changed. With me out of the picture, Julian’s company was thriving. Most of my old employees now worked for him. Everyone was busy living their lives. And Julian? He was living it up even more. Nights at the bar, drinking himself into a stupor, only to come home at midnight sharp to cuddle with his polar bear wife. I figured he had a string of women on the side; he was a playboy, after all. But he never took off his wedding ring. I overheard him telling a friend, “It keeps people away. One disastrous marriage was enough to nearly kill me. I don’t have the energy for another relationship.” Right. He was in a relationship with a polar bear.

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Caleb Astor didn’t like me, his fiancée from out of town. To get me to break off our engagement, he had a scholarship kid from our school pretend to be him. “A new-money girl and a guy who can barely afford lunch,” his friends joked. “It’s a perfect match.” “I’ll bet you a grand she won’t last three days. She’ll call the whole thing off for sure.” The scholarship kid was tall and quiet, with a kind of beautiful, broken-down stillness to him. I actually believed the story—that the Astors had gone bankrupt and he was starving. I could almost hear my dad’s voice in my ear: “Sweetheart, so what if they’re broke? We’re not snobs who chase money. We’ve got enough to take care of him.” So, when he was hungry, I brought him food. When he worked his part-time jobs, I played bodyguard. When his mom was hospitalized, I paid the bills. I took very good care of my dirt-poor fiancé. Until one day, a handsome, preppy-looking guy snatched the breakfast I had carefully made. I was about to blow a fuse when he looked at me, a frustrated pout on his face. “Maya, open your eyes. I’m your fiancé.” 1 My dad told me I had a fiancé in the city. To give me a choice in the matter, and to make sure I got into a good college, he enrolled me at Northwood High for my junior year, right in Caleb Astor’s class. I’d heard the Astors were practically royalty in Cedar Creek, old money with deep roots. My dad even made me pack a bunch of nice things to make a good impression. But when I got off the train, no one from the Astor family was there to pick me up. I was a little annoyed, but all of that vanished the second I got to school and saw him—thin, dressed in a faded t-shirt that had been washed a hundred times. A friendly student I’d met on the way to the office had looked at the photo on my phone and offered to show me the way. “Room 203? You’re looking for Caleb Astor? Oh, yeah, I know him. C’mon, I’ll show you.” He pointed through the classroom window. I followed his finger. There, sitting by the window, was a boy with a ramrod-straight back, looking clean but worn. Afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across his profile. A stray breeze ruffled his hair, revealing a sharp brow bone and a smooth forehead. I glanced down at the photo, then back at him. The friendly student’s voice echoed in my head, filled with pity. “You didn’t know? The Astor family went bankrupt a couple of years back. Caleb’s on financial aid now. He works a bunch of jobs after school. Sometimes, he can’t even afford to buy lunch.” Our families hadn’t been in close contact, and I guess a proud family like the Astors wouldn’t exactly advertise their bankruptcy to my dad out in Austin. I let out a soft “Oh,” and nodded like a bobblehead, promising the student I wouldn’t spread it around. “This is our new transfer student, Maya Lin. Let’s give her a warm welcome,” the teacher announced, pointing to an empty desk in the back. “You can sit there for now.” I looked up. It was right next to Caleb. From the moment I walked in until I sat down, he never once looked up. He was completely focused on whatever he was writing. I had to squeeze behind his chair to get to my seat. As I passed, my backpack snagged on something. I gave it a gentle tug, and an old metal thermos clattered out of his desk. It rolled on the floor with a loud clang, and the lid popped off. Half of a dry-looking sandwich tumbled out, picking up a layer of dust. I saw his shoulders tense, just for a second. His knuckles went white around his pen, but he didn’t turn around. A few muffled snickers came from nearby. I saw a couple of guys whispering behind his back, their eyes full of scorn. So, it was true. He was really struggling. The vibrant, confident boy in the old photos was gone, replaced by someone who couldn’t even afford a decent meal. I bit my lip, clutched my backpack, and sat down. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to.” He still didn’t look at me. He just picked up the dusty sandwich half, put it back in the thermos, and shoved the whole thing back into his desk. “I’m Maya Lin,” I tried again, leaning closer. “Do you remember me?” When he was six, we met once. Like my mom, I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face, and little Caleb was adorable. I followed him around everywhere. Of course, that was before I convinced him to help me “catch” a rooster at a petting zoo and he got pecked for his trouble. He didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day. Good to know he grew up just as handsome. My sudden closeness seemed to startle him. He leaned back slightly, his eyes finally lifting to meet mine. They were beautiful, like polished obsidian. His lashes were so long and dark that when he looked down, they veiled his gaze, making him seem less distant. But after the initial surprise, he went back to being silent. I scratched my head. “I’m your fiancée, remember?” He was taking a sip of water and choked, coughing into his fist. I reflexively patted his back. When he recovered, he gave me a strange look, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Maybe he didn’t remember. Or maybe losing everything had changed him. Whatever it was, I got the message. We’d just start over. I smiled and held out my hand. “Well, we’re desk partners now. I’m Maya. It’s nice to meet you. Hey, could I ask you for a favor?” I expected him to ignore me again, but this time he spoke, his voice cool and distant. “I don’t have time.” 2 Meanwhile, that “friendly” student who showed me the way? The second I was in the classroom, he ducked into the stairwell where a few other preppy kids were waiting. Gavin rushed over to the handsome boy at the center of the group. “Cal, it’s done. That girl’s not the brightest bulb.” “She believed every word. I pointed out Liam Jiang, told her the Astors were broke and that you couldn’t afford lunch. Her jaw just about hit the floor.” “She even saw his sad little sandwich. Who in their right mind would want to stick around for that kind of charity case?” “I bet you a thousand bucks, in three days, she’ll be begging her dad to call the whole thing off.” Caleb Astor looked bored, but he double-checked. “You’re sure? Three days? She really bought it?” “I saw the picture she had. It was just a side profile of you. Honestly, it could’ve been Liam. Close enough.” “I even told her that after the ‘bankruptcy,’ you changed your name to avoid creditors. She totally fell for it.” “And if you ever do run into her, just say you have the same name. Easy. She won’t be able to latch onto you.” Caleb leaned back against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. “A new-money girl from out of town. Who even does arranged marriages anymore? It’s not the dark ages.” “Seriously,” another friend chimed in. “The Astors have a hundred-year legacy. You should be marrying someone from a family like the Prescotts, like your brother did. Not some… country bumpkin.” “Tell me about it. My mom’s been on a hunger strike trying to get my dad to cancel this thing.” “But you know my dad. He does whatever Grandpa says, and Grandpa is all about ‘honor’ and ‘keeping promises’ to his old army buddies.” “By the way,” Gavin said, a little hesitantly, “that fiancée of yours…” Caleb shot him a cold look. Gavin corrected himself. “That girl… she’s actually pretty hot. I snapped a pic. You wanna see? Maybe you’ll change your mind.” Caleb scoffed. “Are you kidding? You think I have a thing for girls from the sticks?” Gavin mumbled to himself, “For real, though. She’s way prettier than your girl, the ‘queen bee’ of Northwood.” 3 I didn’t know any of that. At that moment, my world revolved around Liam Jiang. That’s the name he told me, and that’s what everyone called him. The Astors really must have gone to great lengths to hide, even changing his name. I spent the whole day trying to talk to him. He rarely answered, sometimes pretending not to hear me at all. But I’m a chatterbox, just like my dad. My dad can talk to a herd of cattle for an entire day and not get bored. Plus, I’ve never been shy. I can basically have a full conversation by myself. “So, what’s good to eat around here? It’s my first day, I’m totally lost.” “Do you live on campus or off?” “Hey, why is this math formula different from what I learned back home?” “Where’s the water fountain? I’m dying of thirst.” Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Just try to pay attention in class,” he muttered. After a beat, he added, “The fountain is outside room 207. You can go after the bell.” By the time the bell rang, I’d forgotten all about being thirsty. I immediately called my dad and told him about the Astor family going bankrupt. He sounded surprised. “What? Really? Well, shoot. It’s okay, sweetheart. If they’re broke, they’re broke. We’re not the kind of people who kick someone when they’re down. This is when you see a person’s true character. If you really like the kid, what’s the big deal? We’ll support him.” I nodded. It wasn’t that I liked him liked him. Not yet. It was just that… Liam seemed so pathetic. I don’t have a lot of things, but I do have a lot of money. And right now, money was what he needed most. Our family got rich the year I was born. My dad saw a tiny article about real estate reform in the corner of a newspaper and immediately bought up an old, abandoned grain depot on the edge of town. Later, when the city expanded, he cashed in big. Then came the tech boom. He didn’t understand any of it, but he understood how to invest in people who did. We were “new money,” for sure. Compared to a family with generations of wealth like the Astors, I was definitely what people online would call nouveau riche. But being new money has its perks. For one, my dad hands me credit cards like they’re playing cards, without blinking an eye. I could probably buy the diner where Liam works his night shift, but I didn’t want to be that obvious. It took me a few days of pestering, but I finally figured out where he worked. Liam at his night job was different from the Liam at school. His clothes were more casual, his hair a little messy. I had followed him there, so when he saw me, his brow furrowed into a deep V. “What are you doing in a place like this?” He pulled me into the stairwell. “You shouldn’t be here.” Well, at least he was talking more now. I pulled a sandwich out of my backpack and stuffed it into his hand. Liam froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. “Eat it,” I urged. “I, uh, bought too many. The guy at the deli said it’ll be stale by tomorrow, and I’m full. It’s a waste to throw it out, so you can have it.” I’d done my research. Every day after school, Liam worked at least three jobs. First, handing out flyers downtown. Then, he’d run his own little noodle cart. After closing that down, he’d come here, to the diner, to work the late shift as a busboy. A bowl of noodles from his cart sold for seven bucks, but he never ate one himself. He’d either make do with the sad sandwich from the morning or wait for leftover food from the diner’s kitchen. I’d gotten friendly with my classmates over the last few days. A few of them had warned me not to get too close to Liam. They said he was weird, gloomy, and never talked to anyone. They told me his mom had kidney failure and he had a disabled younger sister. Wait, Caleb Astor’s mom was that sick? I didn’t want to ask Liam about it. I was afraid it would just make him feel worse. “Why are you doing this?” Liam asked, his gaze fixed on the sandwich in his hand. I waved my hand dismissively, my eyes wide. “What do you mean ‘why’? You’re my desk partner. And you helped me with that math problem today.” I nodded firmly. “That’s right! My dad says if I don’t get into a good college, he’s gonna break my legs. So, consider this a bribe, Liam. That sandwich isn’t free. You have to help me with my homework again tomorrow.” I had peeked at his test scores. The guy got a 1590 on his SATs. He was a genius. He pressed his lips together. “Aren’t you… grossed out by me?” My eyes went wide again. “Why would I be?” I leaned in and took a dramatic sniff around him. “Don’t you know how clean your mom washes your clothes? I sit next to you all day, and the wind blows this nice, fresh laundry soap smell over to me. Look at my shirt…” I held up my own slightly grubby sleeve. “I’m way dirtier than you. Are you grossed out by me?” In the dim light of the stairwell, Liam looked up at me, his eyes shining like stars. He clutched the sandwich and slowly shook his head. I lifted my chin smugly. “That’s more like it. I’m your fi—” I caught myself just in time. 4 Liam got off work ten minutes early and insisted on walking me home. He also tucked a notebook full of his study notes into my backpack. My dad had bought me a house in The Pines, an exclusive gated community, before I even moved here. Ever since my mom passed, he’s been super protective. He wanted to quit his job and move with me, but I managed to talk him out of it. Instead, he hired a lovely lady to be my live-in chaperone and cook. As we got close to the entrance of The Pines, I quickly steered Liam down a different street, one with more modest houses. His family was broke; seeing all these mansions would probably just make him feel bad. “This is me!” I said, pointing randomly at a house. “You should get home, too.” Liam looked up at the house, then suddenly reached out and gently patted the top of my head. “See you tomorrow, desk partner.” If any of our classmates had been there, they would have seen a different Liam. It was like a black-and-white photo that had suddenly been colorized. The heavy, world-weary look was gone, replaced by something that looked a little like… hope. As soon as he was gone, I sprinted back towards The Pines. I was running fast, and as I rounded the corner to my street, I nearly crashed into someone. The person reacted instantly, shooting out an arm to steady me. I looked up and found myself staring into a handsome, finely chiseled face. Huh. I frowned. He looked familiar. Kind of like Liam, actually. But why was he just staring at me like that? I waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? I’m fine. You can let go now.” He blinked, then quickly dropped his hand. “Sorry.” I shrugged it off, nodded, and started to walk away. “Hey, do you go to Northwood—” he called out from behind me. But just then, my little golden retriever, Sunny, came bounding out to greet me. “Sunny!” I cried, running to him and scooping him up, completely forgetting about the boy behind me. Caleb Astor stood frozen, watching the girl disappear around the corner, happily cuddling her dog. By the time he snapped out of it and ran after her, she was gone. He pulled out his phone and typed in his group chat: Any of you guys know a girl at our school with long hair, super tall, big round eyes, and a tiny mole by her nose? Ever seen her? Someone replied: What’s up, Cal? Meet a new girl? Love at first sight? Another message popped up: No way, Caleb’s standards are way too high. He wouldn’t even look at the homecoming queen. Caleb propped his feet up on the coffee table, staring at the words “love at first sight” for a long moment. Cut the crap, he typed back. Just tell me if you’ve seen her or not. Long hair, check. Big eyes, check. Tall, check. But that specific combo? Never seen her. Don’t worry, man. We’ll be on the lookout tomorrow. If she goes to Northwood, she can’t hide. Caleb typed back lazily: Find her, and there’s a big reward in it for you. Caleb Astor came from a wealthy family and was blessed with good looks. He had a natural confidence that told him anything he wanted, he could get.

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I stared at the four individual slices of Swiss roll, perfectly nestled in their plastic containers. My roommate, Sarah, shrieked, “Are you crazy, Jane? You bought this expensive cake for everyone? What a waste of money!” I tried to explain that they only sold it in whole boxes, and it would go bad if we didn’t share. But she just gathered all the slices, her eyes gleaming. “My brother works construction nearby. I’ll take these to him.” Before I could even protest, she was already eyeing me up and down with a sneer. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just getting you in good with your future husband. You should be happy to have a sister-in-law like me.” Excuse me? Since when was I involved with her brother? I snatched the cake box back. “Give them to your brother? I’d rather let them go stale!” Chapter 1 “Alright, everyone, I bought Swiss rolls! Dig in!” I grinned, setting the box with the familiar “Whole Foods” logo on our dorm’s communal table. Through the clear plastic, the golden cake and pristine white cream looked incredibly tempting. This box of Swiss rolls cost me almost thirty dollars, about three days’ worth of my meal plan. My wallet stung, but the thought of sharing with my roommates made my heart happy. It was a little celebration after our first dorm outing together. Emily and Chloe immediately cheered and crowded around. Emily, a bubbly girl from the South, had a spunky short haircut. Chloe was quieter, with round glasses, and was the dorm’s resident brainiac. The three of us had hit it off since orientation, but Sarah always kept to herself. “Wow! Whole Foods Swiss rolls! I’ve been craving these forever!” Emily eagerly tore open the box, and a rich, creamy aroma instantly filled the room. She took an exaggerated sniff. “Oh, that’s the good stuff!” “Jane, you shouldn’t have,” Chloe said, pushing up her glasses, a shy smile on her face. But her eyes were glued to the cake. Sarah, however, stayed on her bed, scrolling on her phone, not even looking up. She was the most… unique one in our dorm. Always trying to get something for free, and constantly bringing up “my brother.” In less than a month of school, I’d heard about her brother at least twenty times: “My brother’s a foreman on a construction site,” “My brother makes eight grand a month,” “My brother says city girls are all spoiled.” I didn’t pay her any mind. The cake was there; she could eat it or not. Just as we were about to dive in, Sarah suddenly put down her phone and walked over. She glanced at the packaging, her eyes widening, then let out a piercing shriek: “Jane! What a waste! This expensive cake, just giving it away?” Her sudden outburst startled me, and I nearly dropped my slice of Swiss roll. Steadying myself, I explained, “They only sell it by the box. It’ll go bad if we don’t share.” But Sarah slammed the box lid shut so roughly that Chloe’s freshly poured iced tea almost toppled over. “My brother works construction nearby. I’ll take these to him.” She started to shove the box into her bag. I was stunned, completely unprepared for her move. Before I could say anything, she looked me up and down with a judgmental gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just getting you in good with your future husband. You should be happy to have a sister-in-law like me.” I couldn’t believe my ears. Future husband? Sister-in-law? I’d never even met her brother! A wave of anger washed over me, and I snatched the cake box back. “Give them to your brother? I’d rather let them go stale!” Chapter 2 The dorm went dead silent. Emily and Chloe exchanged nervous glances. Sarah’s face flushed crimson. “Jane, what do you mean by that?” Sarah’s voice was sharp. “Exactly what it sounds like.” I calmly opened the box and redistributed slices to Emily and Chloe. “My stuff, I decide who gets it.” The dorm was eerily quiet again. Sarah’s face was beet red. “Jane, what’s your problem? My brother works himself to death on that construction site, what’s wrong with him having something nice to eat? Do you know his hands are all calloused? He dropped out of middle school to work and put me through college!” That’s when I noticed Sarah’s fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt, her knuckles white. Her eyes held a complex emotion—a mix of unhealthy adoration for her brother and an unspoken insecurity. This contradictory expression reminded me of a dog on a leash, wanting to bite but afraid of getting hit. “What does your brother’s hard work have to do with me?” I countered. “I don’t even know him.” “Don’t play dumb!” Sarah suddenly raised her voice, a sharp edge to it. “Haven’t you been looking for a boyfriend? My brother might be on a construction site now, but he’s going to be successful! I’m giving you an opportunity! Do you know how many girls in our village want to marry my brother?” I almost laughed at how ridiculous this was. I’d never even met Sarah’s brother, and she was already trying to arrange a marriage for me? This wasn’t just about being cheap; this was straight-up delusional. “Sarah,” I said, enunciating each word carefully, “I’m not interested in your brother. Not now, not ever. Please don’t flatter yourself.” Sarah’s face turned a sickly shade of green. She spun around and stomped back to her bed, yanking her curtain shut with a violent thwack. Emily nudged my arm, whispering, “Sarah’s always like this. Last time I bought cherries, she said she wanted to take them to her brother. She always talks about how he dropped out to work and put her through school, so she really looks up to him.” Chloe nodded in agreement. “Yeah, last month I bought new sunscreen, and she just took it without asking, saying her brother needed sunscreen more on the construction site.” That’s when I noticed Sarah’s desk was covered in photos of her and her brother. A man in his early thirties, with dark skin, posing in front of various construction backgrounds. And in her closet, there were hardly any nice clothes, just faded T-shirts and jeans. Chapter 3 The next few days, the dorm atmosphere was noticeably tense. Sarah started making passive-aggressive comments. “Some people just look down on working-class folks,” she said loudly while painting her nails, glancing sideways at me. “Exactly, acting all high and mighty,” she muttered into her phone, but it was clearly meant for me. “My brother says girls who are pampered like that have the hardest time finding a husband.” I chose to ignore her, but I’d already decided to keep my distance. We still had three years of living together, and a full-blown argument wouldn’t do anyone any good. However, it didn’t end there. Friday night, I came back from dinner with my club members to find my closet door open and a new dress missing. It was a birthday present I’d saved up for a month, costing over a hundred dollars, and I hadn’t even worn it once. I immediately asked in our dorm group chat: “Who went into my closet? My new dress is gone.” Sarah quickly replied: “Oh, I borrowed it. I’m having dinner with my brother tonight; I can’t look too shabby, can I?” I couldn’t believe my eyes. She just took my stuff without asking, and was being so brazen about it?! “Bring it back. Now.” I typed only those five words. “What’s the rush? I’ll give it back tomorrow,” Sarah replied nonchalantly. “Now. Immediately. This instant.” I emphasized my words. Ten minutes later, Sarah returned reluctantly. The dress had clearly been worn, with noticeable foundation stains on the collar and grease spots on the hem. She tossed the dress onto my bed. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like I wasn’t going to give it back. So stingy.” I inspected the stains on the dress, fuming. “Sarah, from today on, do not touch any of my things again. This is your final warning.” “Pffft, like I care.” Sarah rolled her eyes, then suddenly flashed a creepy smile. “But Jane, my brother really liked seeing you in this dress. He said you have a great figure.” I froze. “What do you mean?” “Nothing, just showed your picture to my brother during dinner. He was really interested.” Sarah triumphantly waved her phone. “Want to add him on WeChat? My brother said he’d be willing to spend a lot to pursue a city girl like you.” I was trembling with rage. I grabbed the dress and threw it directly into the trash can. “Gross!” Sarah’s face changed. “What are you doing? I still need that dress…” “Need your head!” I cut her off. “Anything you’ve touched, I find disgusting!” Sarah suddenly lunged and shoved me. “Jane! Don’t push your luck!” I stumbled backward a few steps, bumping into my desk. Emily and Chloe quickly intervened to break us up. That night, I tossed and turned. Through the gap in my bed curtain, I saw Sarah carefully mending an old shirt under her desk lamp—it was her brother’s work uniform. Her eyes held a pathological obsession, the needle weaving through the fabric like a devout worshiper performing a ritual. Chapter 4 The next morning, I found my cosmetics had been tampered with. There were clear fingerprints on the Estée Lauder foundation bottle, and my YSL lipstick had been twisted out, the bullet misshapen. I looked around the dorm. Emily and Chloe had gone home, and only Sarah was lying in bed, pretending to sleep. I quietly pulled out my phone and took pictures as evidence. Then I opened my laptop and posted an update on social media: “What kind of person uses someone else’s makeup without permission in a dorm? Foundation bottle covered in fingerprints, lipstick twisted out. Do these people think everyone else’s stuff is theirs?” I attached the evidence photos, of course, without naming anyone directly. Soon, the post was widely shared and commented on. Many students from our school saw it and started guessing who it was. Although I hadn’t named names, those who knew our dorm situation could easily guess it was Sarah. “Is it that Sarah who’s always trying to get free stuff?” my classmate Amy commented. “I heard she often takes her roommates’ things for her brother,” another student replied. In the afternoon, Sarah stormed back, slamming her phone down in front of me. “Jane, what do you mean by that? Spreading rumors about me online?” I looked at her calmly. “What rumors am I spreading? I’m stating facts. Weren’t those cosmetics yours?” “What’s wrong with using them for a bit?” Sarah said, as if it were my fault. “Taking without asking is stealing,” I said coldly. “I’ve already applied to the Resident Advisor to check the surveillance cameras. If it’s confirmed to be you, I’ll report it to the Dean, and you’ll compensate me for whatever the total cost is.” Sarah’s face changed. “You, you’re really going that far?” Her voice suddenly dropped. “I, I just wanted to look a little prettier, so my brother would notice me more…” I was stunned, completely unprepared for that answer. A flicker of vulnerability, one I’d never seen before, appeared in Sarah’s eyes, but it vanished instantly. “My brother said girls should be more generous.” She reverted to her self-righteous tone. “He even saved money for his sanitary pads to buy him cigarettes when he was home!” As she spoke, Sarah suddenly burst into tears, crying so loudly the whole floor could hear her. “Jane, how can you be so heartless? Are you jealous of me because you like my brother, and that’s why you’re treating me like this?” I was practically laughing with anger at her twisted logic. “First, I don’t even know your brother. Second, even if I did, I’m not obligated to tolerate your unreasonable behavior because of it. Third, affection is mutual, not a unilateral fantasy.” Sarah cried even harder, but this time, I didn’t soften. Her previous actions had already exceeded my limits. That evening, when Emily and Chloe returned, the dorm atmosphere became even more awkward. Sarah sobbed to them about how I was bullying her, but I noticed Emily and Chloe didn’t comfort her as they usually did; they remained silent. “What’s wrong with you two? Did Jane buy you off?” Sarah shrieked. Emily sighed. “Sarah, this time, you really are in the wrong…” “Exactly, you should at least ask before using other people’s stuff,” Chloe quietly added. “Hmph, you say all that, but you just hate me, don’t you? A bunch of hypocrites!” Sarah’s face turned ugly. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the dorm. Chapter 5 The next day, the Resident Advisor, Mr. Davies, called me in for a talk. Sarah had reported me, accusing me of campus bullying. In Mr. Davies’ office, he adjusted his glasses. “Jane, Sarah says you’ve been targeting her and spreading false rumors online?” Fortunately, I was prepared. I presented the photos of my tampered cosmetics and screenshots of her unreasonable comments in the dorm group chat. “Mr. Davies, this is the whole story.” I also handed him a neatly organized timeline of events. After reviewing everything, Mr. Davies’ expression grew serious. “Jane, I will handle this. Sarah’s behavior is indeed inappropriate.” “Thank you, sir.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “However,” Mr. Davies hesitated, “Sarah’s family situation is a bit special. Her parents are migrant workers, and her brother works construction. Perhaps their views on certain things are a little different from yours…” I interrupted, “Sir, a person’s background is no excuse for taking advantage of others. My family is also working-class, and that dress was something I saved up for a month to buy.” Mr. Davies nodded. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Sarah.” For the next two weeks after the talk with Mr. Davies, the dorm was unusually quiet. Sarah left early and came back late every day, barely interacting with us. I thought she had finally realized her mistake, until that Thursday afternoon. “Jane, can you come out for a second?” Emily stood at the dorm door, her face pale, beckoning to me. At the end of the hallway, Emily trembling handed me her phone. “I was just borrowing Sarah’s computer to look up something, and I accidentally saw this…” The screen displayed a WeChat chat log. Sarah had sent a candid photo of me reading in the library, with the caption: “Bro, isn’t this girl great? A bit of a temper, but she’s pretty, totally worthy of you.” The photo was clearly taken without my knowledge; I had no idea when she’d even taken it. “There’s more, and it’s worse.” Emily scrolled the screen, and the next few messages made my blood run cold: “Her family’s well-off, only child, all her parents’ money will be yours someday.” “Just a little snobby, needs a good ‘training.’” “This weekend, I’ll bring her clothes back for you to smell.”

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For the tenth year of being Liam’s shadow, he got bored. He posted a picture of me on his Instagram story with a caption. “Gofer for sale. Great cook, on-call 24/7. Highest bidder wins.” The girl he liked was the first to view it. Ten minutes later, he deleted the story and posted a new one, a simple text screen. “Lost a bet. Just a dare, don’t mind it.” But someone already had. Liam’s friend with the eating disorder called me immediately. The price he offered was staggering, just for me to be his chef. I took the money. 1 The call from Alex came while I was in the middle of cooking. I answered it on speaker. “Is this Lily? This is Alex.” “Yes, this is she. What’s up?” I was a little confused. I had no idea why Alex would be calling me. During freshman orientation at A-University, we were all forced to live in the dorms, and Alex had been Liam’s roommate. After that first month, they both moved into apartments off-campus, but they’d stayed good friends. I didn’t know him well, just a few passing encounters through Liam. “I saw Liam’s story,” he said. “I remember you’re an amazing cook. Would you consider coming to work for me?” Alex laid it all out in a few sentences, then asked, “Three thousand a month, how does that sound? If that’s not enough…” “Wait,” I cut him off, my brain finally catching up. “What story?” With the phone still on speaker, I switched apps and tapped on Liam’s profile. There was nothing new. Alex paused. His deep voice held a note of confusion. “You didn’t see it?” A moment later, he sent me a screenshot. Liam had posted it two minutes ago, and he’d deliberately hidden it from my view. [Gofer for sale. Great cook, on-call 24/7. Highest bidder wins.] In the corner, a familiar profile picture was the first viewer. It was my roommate, Tiffany. The same Tiffany that Liam had been telling everyone he was going to win over. My heart felt like a chunk of it had been ripped out. I stood there, frozen. “I need a chef.” Alex’s cool, collected voice pulled me back. “The price is negotiable.” “…Okay.” My own voice trembled as I clutched the phone and agreed. After hanging up, I looked at the feast I had just prepared. It was laughable. My dad worked as a driver for the Davis family. My mom was their housekeeper. So, since I was a child, I’d lived in the staff quarters on their massive estate. Liam loved to have me around, and he insisted I go to school with him. For ten years. When it was time for college applications, there were other cities I wanted to go to, but after a bit of whining from Liam, I caved and came with him to A-University. Ten years of constant companionship. I thought we were best friends. I secretly started to feel something more. Until college, when Liam saw Tiffany. It was love at first sight for him. He was constantly asking me for advice on how to get her. My heart sank, but I accepted it quietly and agreed to help. Even if we couldn’t be anything more, all those years of friendship had to mean something. Until I saw that story. So, in Liam’s heart, I wasn’t even a friend. Just a “gofer” he could sell off at will. Since we started college, Liam, with his picky palate, couldn’t stand the cafeteria food or takeout, so I made time every day to cook for him. He’d skip his easy elective classes, and I’d attend for him and do his homework. If he needed someone to run an errand or grab him a drink, I took care of it. Thinking about it now, it’s no wonder he thought I was a gofer he could just “transfer.” And it was my own fault for being so naive, for genuinely thinking a rich kid like Liam would ever see me as a true friend. With a bitter laugh, I took a picture of the food I’d just made and sent it to Alex. Just finished cooking. Want to eat now? I can bring it over. Alex replied instantly. Yes. Then he sent me two hundred dollars and an address. With money in my account, the sadness subsided, replaced by a surge of anger. Liam never paid me a dime, so what right did he have to treat me like a servant? To sell me? Alex was far more generous. Just as I was about to head out, Alex sent another screenshot of Liam’s story. [Lost a bet. Just a dare, don’t mind it.] Sorry, it seems he was just joking. My mistake for being so forward. A joke? My chest tightened. Even if it was a joke, it just proved that to Liam, I was nothing more than the butt of one. I replied to Alex: It’s fine. Our deal still stands. Great. Alex sent a sticker of a puppy with the word “Waiting!” I stared at the cheerful little dog and fell silent. From his cool exterior, I never would have guessed Alex was the type to use cute stickers. 2 One of my roommates was a local from A-City and had gone to the same high school as Alex. According to her, Alex had a reputation for being cold and unapproachable. He had the face of a stoic god but a mouth that could cut you down to size, and he didn’t give anyone the time of day. I started to worry. If he didn’t like my food, would he yell at me? I could handle being yelled at, but would he ask for the money back? It was two hundred bucks, after all. Anxiously, I followed the address to Alex’s house. I found myself standing in front of a two-story standalone villa. I stood there for a moment. Why couldn’t the world have just one more rich person, and why couldn’t it be me? I rang the doorbell. Alex opened the door, his face unnervingly pale. I blinked, a question forming in my mind. Was he always this thin? He was wearing a baggy black t-shirt. His wide-boned shoulders filled it out at the top, but the rest of it just hung off his frame. The skin on his face was stretched taut over his bones, making his already sharp features look even more sculpted. “Are you sick?” I asked after a quick hello. He seemed surprised by my directness, hesitating for a second before humming a quiet “mmhmm.” Good thing I’d made a relatively light meal. I stepped inside and unpacked the food from the insulated containers. “This was a bit last-minute. If there’s anything you don’t like, just let me know.” “Okay.” But clearly, my worries were for nothing. In less than ten minutes, like a storm passing through, Alex had eaten every last bite. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. But that made no sense. It’s not like he couldn’t afford food. I didn’t dwell on it. Seeing that he was finished, I got ready to clean up. “I’ll do it.” Alex beat me to it, carrying the dishes to the kitchen. Huh… a pretty decent boss. I sat in the living room scrolling through my phone and saw a message from Liam. Where are you? Tiffany said she wants to try that one dish from our hometown. I remember you’re great at it, you should add it to the menu tonight. Oh, and she doesn’t like onions. You haven’t finished cooking today, have you? Never mind, if you’re short on time, just make a few extra dishes without onions. Did he really think I was his personal, live-in chef? This is the 21st century! Nope. I replied decisively. I’ve been sold. You’re on your own from now on. The “is typing…” bubble on his end appeared and disappeared for a long time, but no message came through. Alex walked out of the kitchen, pulled out his phone without a word, and sent me the three thousand dollars. He didn’t speak, but money whispered. I looked at my bank balance and felt a thrill of joy. If I had to be a gofer, I’d rather be his. In the end, Alex and I happily came to an agreement. I would cook lunch and dinner for him. On days I didn’t have class, I’d come over at the scheduled times. On days I had class, I’d cook in advance and leave the food in a warming cabinet for him. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was getting paid way too much for just cooking. So, I decided I would be his loyal minion, on-call 24/7. 3 Liam called, a hint of guilt in his voice. “You saw the story, didn’t you?” I stayed silent. “I didn’t mean it like that, it was just a joke.” I still didn’t say anything. Liam’s voice grew more urgent. “Didn’t I post right after that it was fake? I didn’t actually mean to sell you off.” Then, a girl’s voice came through the phone. “Liam, you and Lily were always so close. It’s natural for her to be upset. Just give her some space to cool down, okay? Why don’t we go get some sushi?” It was Tiffany. Hearing her, Liam seemed to make up his mind. “You need to think this through. I can’t keep you by my side forever.” Then he hung up. I was speechless. Keep me by his side? Had he been watching too much melodrama? Any lingering trace of affection I had for him evaporated. I blocked him on everything. I’m not an idiot. When I realized I liked Liam in college, I bent over backward for him, helping him with everything. Even when he fell for Tiffany, I suppressed my own feelings to help him win her over. The problem was, Tiffany was always bothered by me being around Liam. So, to put her mind at ease, Liam chose this method to draw a line in the sand. To make it clear that I was just a gofer he could get rid of whenever he pleased. If that’s how it was, then there was no point in me sticking around to be humiliated. I started my new routine, splitting my time between campus and Alex’s villa. His place was close to school, only a twenty-minute walk. But Alex, saying he didn’t want me to waste time, got me a brand-new, top-of-the-line electric scooter. The moment the keys were in my hand, I was moved beyond words. How could anyone say it doesn’t matter who you’re with? Sucking up to Alex got me everything. Sucking up to Liam only got me hurt. 4 After that day, the vibe in our dorm room became tense. Tiffany would constantly talk about the new designer bag Liam bought her, or the fancy restaurant he took her to, going on and on about how good he was to her. But no one engaged. I was exhausted from running back and forth all day, cooking and studying. At night, all I wanted to do was sleep. My other two roommates were either lost in their TV shows or buried in their books. After a week of being ignored, Tiffany snapped. After class, I hopped on my new scooter, ready to zip over to Alex’s. I twisted the throttle, but the scooter didn’t move. A force was holding it back. I looked behind me. It was Liam, grabbing the back of my seat. He frowned. “Lily, I know you have a problem with Tiffany, but you can’t gang up on her with your roommates.” Gang up on her? We were both speaking English, but I had no idea what he was talking about. “Did I hit her? Did I curse her out?” Liam’s face flushed. “She said you and your roommates are giving her the silent treatment!” I let out a cold laugh. “Lily, we’ve been friends for so many years. She’s my girlfriend, can’t you have a little dignity?” Friends? Dignity? Who was the one who announced to the world I was his gofer? Who was the one without dignity? Who was the one who made me part of his twisted game? There was no point in arguing. I said coldly, “Let go. I’m in a hurry.” Liam didn’t release his grip, his face a mask of disappointment. “You’re only doing this because I like Tiffany, aren’t you? Lily, even if we can’t be together, we’re still friends.” “And I don’t like you. It has nothing to do with Tiffany. Even if she wasn’t in the picture, it would still be impossible for us. After all these years, if it was going to happen, it would have happened already. You don’t need to take it out on her.” He was just saying whatever popped into his head. But… So he knew how I felt about him all this time. Which means he asked for my help with Tiffany on purpose. I looked down, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips. Liam thought I was admitting guilt. He said, in a patronizing tone, “Lily, I think it’s time for you to start dating.” “I have a few buddies, all good guys, you’ve met them. I can set you up.” He listed a few names. “You’ve met Alex, too, but don’t even think about it. His standards are really high…” “Dude, are you gonna be a while?” A familiar voice cut him off. A hand clapped him on the shoulder. Liam turned to see Alex walk past him, swing a long leg over, and settle onto the back of my scooter. “We’re in a hurry to get home for dinner. Just text her if you have something to say.” Alex’s voice was lazy. “Alex?” Liam stared, looking from him to me, as if a lightbulb had just gone off in his head. “No wonder you had the guts to block me. You found a new target.” He sneered. “Lily, your affections are pretty cheap, aren’t they?” Alex let out a soft sigh. “Cheap? Weren’t you just telling her to find a boyfriend? Now that she has, you’re not happy about it.” Liam’s expression shifted. “Alex, are you serious?” “Mmhmm.” Alex was noncommittal. “I’m pursuing her.” I felt my face flush. Alex was practically a campus legend at A-University. My patron was using his own reputation to help me save face. The loyalty was real. The air grew thick with tension. Liam took a step back, his breath catching as he laughed coldly. “Alex, don’t you know that Lily, she…” “Liam!” Tiffany appeared at the perfect moment, grabbing his arm. “It’s fine,” she said softly. “You don’t have to fight my battles for me. I’m moving out soon anyway.” Liam seemed to remember something, and his expression calmed. “Stop pretending. You’re just trying to get a reaction out of me, aren’t you?” His gaze swept over my face. “Bullying Tiffany out of jealousy on one hand, and putting on a show with Alex on the other. You’ve got a lot of moves, but I’m not falling for it.” Liam pulled Tiffany away. As he passed Alex, he muttered, “I don’t know what Lily’s paying you, but you don’t have to play along with her act…” A weight settled on my back as Alex’s head rested against me. His hair was soft, but it tickled, sending a pleasant shiver from where we touched all the way up to my scalp. I stiffened slightly. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.” His usually clear voice was low and a bit husky, almost sounding like… he was whining? I shuddered, shaking the strange thought from my head. Ignoring whatever expression Liam had on his face, I twisted the throttle, and the scooter shot forward. 5 Back at his place, I felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry. You got dragged into my drama with Liam, and it’s affecting your friendship.” After all, they were good friends. I only knew Alex because of Liam. I remembered the first time I met him. They had all gone out drinking, and Liam had called me to pick him up. When I got there, everyone was wasted except for Alex. He wasn’t as thin back then. He was leaning back on a sofa, half his face cloaked in shadow, a couple of buttons on his black shirt undone. His profile was sharp and handsome, and he was still holding a glass between his long, pale fingers. “Here for Liam?” he’d asked in a low voice. I nodded, spotting Liam asleep on his side on another couch. I was about to help him up when Alex moved faster, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said flatly. I was a bit embarrassed. “I can get him, you don’t have to…” “It’s fine. I was leaving anyway.” Alex helped Liam into the elevator and got him into the car downstairs before disappearing. After that, I’d see Alex whenever I went to find Liam. They even took the same elective courses. When I sat in on Liam’s classes, I’d often see Alex. He’d even save me a seat sometimes. Alex’s voice pulled me back to the present. He lowered his long lashes, his gaze searching. “Is that the only thing you wanted to say to me?” “Uh…” I remembered how he’d stood up for me in front of Liam, how angry he’d made him. I had to show my gratitude. “Maybe…” I asked tentatively. “Do you need help with your elective homework?” The professor for the class I took for Liam had assigned two short papers, which I’d already finished. Now that Liam and I were on the outs, there was no reason to give them to him. Alex paused, then looked down and smiled, a hint of resignation in his expression. “Yes.” The next second, my phone buzzed with a notification: a transfer of two hundred dollars. I fought to keep my lips from curling into a grin. “Oh, you really don’t have to do that.” “Take it,” Alex said, his tone leaving no room for argument. So, I “reluctantly” accepted. A few days later, Liam texted me from a new number. Let’s see how long you can keep up this act. I hope you can keep it up in front of your parents. My parents? I scoffed. When Tiffany moved out, she made sure to warn me not to bother Liam anymore. She also said that once she and Liam were married, the first thing she’d do was have my driver dad and housekeeper mom fired. It was pretty clear what kinds of things Liam must have been telling her. I needed to get my family away from the Davises, and soon.

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1 I was going to miss my flight. The flight to the Berlin Tech Summit, the one my entire career was riding on. I could feel the seconds ticking away like tiny bombs as the TSA agent, a woman with a plastic smile and cold eyes, stopped me for the third time. “Ma’am, the scanner is picking up some kind of metal on your person. We’ll need you to step aside for an additional screening.” My heart hammered against my ribs, but I complied, frantically patting myself down until I found a stray quarter in my jeans pocket. I held it up. “Here.” I made to leave. She blocked my path again. “Your boots, ma’am. The soles are quite thick. They’ll need to be screened separately.” Another twenty minutes evaporated as they x-rayed my boots from every conceivable angle. By the time they were handed back, the final boarding call for my flight was echoing through the terminal. I grabbed my suitcase, ready to sprint. But the agent’s smile never faltered. Her eyes fixed on the white plaster cast on my arm. “Ma’am, for flight security, we’re going to need to inspect that cast…” That’s when I snapped. “Why didn’t you check it all at once? I’m about to miss my flight!” My voice was louder than I intended. “The cast? How are you supposed to inspect a cast? It’s a broken bone, not a fashion accessory I can just slip off!” The agent’s smile remained infuriatingly placid. Her name tag read DAVIES. “I understand your frustration, Ms. Thorne,” she said, her tone anything but understanding. “But we have to follow protocol. Please don’t make this difficult for us. We’re just doing our jobs.” She ran a handheld scanner over my arm. Beep. Beep. BEEP. The alarm blared again. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to accompany me to a private screening room.” I saw the malice in her eyes then. A flicker of something personal and cruel. I refused, point-blank. “No. I’ve never heard of inspecting a cast like this. You’re targeting me.” A few other passengers, delayed by the scene, started to murmur in my defense. “She’s right, you’ve been holding her up forever.” “I’m on the same flight, we’re about to miss it! Can’t you just let her go?” Agent Davies turned her plastic smile on them. “I’m not making this difficult, I’m following federal regulations. Can any of you, right here, right now, personally guarantee there’s nothing hidden inside Ms. Thorne’s cast? Can you take legal responsibility for her actions if something happens on that plane? Anyone?” Silence. Every single person looked away. I tried to push past, but two large security guards materialized, boxing me in. The mood of the crowd shifted. “Just cooperate with them already!” a man in a business suit yelled. “You’re holding up the whole line! Some of us have connections to make!” Defeated, I was escorted into a small, windowless room. I braced myself, but what she said next still shocked me. “Alright, you can start taking your clothes off. Please cooperate with the search.” The male guards left, leaving me with Davies and two stone-faced female officers. They subjected me to the most humiliating search of my life, leaving me standing in nothing but my own skin. Finally, I showed them the doctor’s report for my arm, proving the alarm was from the surgical pins holding my bones together. Davies barely glanced at it before handing it back, her smile a twisted slash. “You’re clear to go. Sorry for the inconvenience, Ms. Thorne.” I was shaking with rage. I pointed a finger at her name tag. “Davies. I’ll remember you.” She just chuckled. “Please do. Maybe next time it will remind you to dress more appropriately for air travel. Now, we’ll need to escort you through security one more time.” I threw on my clothes, fuming, and went through the scanner again, assuming it was a formality. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The alarm screamed. Davies was in front of me again. “What now?!” I was on the verge of losing my mind. She held up my handbag. “You dropped this, Ms. Thorne.” For a second, I felt a flash of confusion. Was I wrong? Was this a mistake? I took the bag, but as I turned to leave, she spoke again. “I’m sorry, but according to regulations, I can’t clear you for travel.” I laughed. A bitter, hysterical sound. “And why is that? You’ve searched every inch of me!” Davies shrugged. “The searches came back clear, yes. But your case is… unusual. The multiple flags have been logged in the system. I don’t have the authority to override it. I’ll have to report this to my supervisor. You’ll be cleared to go once he signs off on it.” My flight was literally closing its doors. “I have a critical business meeting! If I miss this flight, my company could lose millions. Are you going to cover that?” Her face was a placid mask. “If you attempt to breach security, that’s a federal offense. My hands are tied.” “Then when is your supervisor getting here?” I demanded through gritted teeth. She pulled out her phone and started tapping. “I’m filing the report now. It should only be a moment.” But I watched her. Her fingers were just swiping, scrolling. There was no report. In a flash of fury, I snatched the phone from her hand. She was scrolling through TMZ. “You’re not filing anything! You’re doing this on purpose!” I screamed, finally losing the last thread of my composure. “You’ve been targeting me from the very beginning! Why? I don’t even know you! Do you swear that this—playing on your phone—is part of the protocol? Do you take responsibility for that?!” Her jaw tightened, but the plastic smile snapped back into place. “Ma’am, please don’t project your emotions onto this situation. I have already notified my supervisor. And my phone is my private property. Grabbing it was extremely rude.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Wouldn’t you agree?” I took a shuddering breath. “How long. Until your supervisor gets here.” She glanced at her watch. “Hmm, about… three hours.” “Three hours?! Are you insane? My flight leaves in five minutes!” She gave a helpless little shrug. “So sorry. My supervisor is actually at a training seminar in another state. With the time difference, he probably won’t see my message for a while. You’ll just have to wait.” I felt the walls closing in. It was all so bizarre, a cascade of bad luck. Two days ago, I’d intervened when I saw a group of thugs harassing a girl outside a bar. I got a broken arm for my trouble, but the girl got away safely. Then my boss, despite my injury, forced me on this trip, making me sign a contract that I’d be personally liable for any losses if the deal fell through. And now this. It wasn’t bad luck. It was a setup. “I demand to speak to your supervisor’s superior. Right now. I am getting on a plane today, one way or another.” Davies shook her head. “You’re just a passenger, ma’am. You don’t have the right to speak to our leadership. The only solution is to wait.” I grabbed her by the collar of her uniform. “What is your problem?! What did I ever do to you? Let me go, now!” She smiled then, a real smile. It was terrifying. “Ma’am, please calm down! Physical violence won’t solve anything.” I felt the guards closing in around me and realized my actions were playing right into her hands. As I went to let her go, she grabbed my wrist, her voice a hiss meant only for me. “That’s right, Maya. I am targeting you. You’re starting to get it, aren’t you?” she whispered. “I’m telling you now, as long as I’m here, you’re not getting on any flight today.” The final, final boarding call blared over the speakers. My instincts screamed at me to run. I tried to shove her away, but she clung to me like a leech, shouting for everyone to hear. “She’s trying to rush the gate! Stop her! Security breach!” The area erupted in chaos. The crowd, which had been a mix of annoyed and sympathetic, was now a mob of gawkers, all with their phones out, recording. “It’s a security threat! She was trying to get past security!” “I’m live on the scene, folks, we have a passenger attempting to breach a TSA checkpoint!” “Someone said she might have a bomb in her cast!” I saw the look of triumph in Davies’s eyes and it all clicked into place. She was intentionally provoking me into a public meltdown. “This is a setup,” I said, my voice low and shaking. “You’re trying to get me arrested.” Davies adopted a look of perfect confusion. “Ms. Thorne, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I suggest you calm down before you make this a police matter.” And then I knew. The guy from the bar, the leader of the thugs, had screamed at me as I ran off with the girl. “You stupid bitch! Do you have any idea who you just messed with? He’ll ruin you for this!” This was the blowback. And whoever this “he” was, he had serious reach. Davies saw my hesitation and pushed harder. “You know, my supervisor just messaged back. Looks like he’s going to be even later than I thought,” she said, feigning sympathy. “Maybe if you just let us cut the cast off, we can all go home?” Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from my boss. “What the hell, Thorne, why aren’t you on the plane?! If you blow this deal, I’ll see you in court!” The more they pushed, the more certain I was that getting on that plane was the worst thing I could do. Ignoring my boss’s frantic texts, I walked over to a nearby chair and sat down. Davies was stunned for a second, then her face hardened. “Ms. Thorne, refusing to cooperate is not an option! You can’t just sit here!” Before I could even respond, she gave a signal. The security guards surged forward, tackling me to the ground. “What are you doing?! Get off me!” I screamed. One of them deliberately kicked my broken arm. A white-hot bolt of pain shot through me, stealing my breath. As Davies shouted that I was assaulting her officers, the fists and boots began to rain down on me. I tasted blood. The last thing I heard before they dragged me back into the dark room was the gleeful shouts of a bystander. “She had an explosive and attacked the officers! It’s all on camera!” The heavy door slammed shut, plunging me into near darkness. A man was sitting in a chair in the corner, his hair a shock of bleached blond. “Maya Thorne, right?” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, some people just don’t know when to stay out of things.” He stood up. “The name’s Caden Sterling. You ruined a very important night for me. The Sterlings always pay their debts.” It was him. The man from the bar. He had orchestrated everything—the impossible work trip, the airport nightmare. He wanted to destroy my career and my body, all because I’d saved that girl. I spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “You’re nothing but a pathetic coward, hiding behind your money. You think you’re a king? You’re just a spoiled little boy.” Caden’s smirk vanished. He walked over and stomped on my cast. Pain exploded in my arm. “I’m the son of William Sterling. Sterling Industries. To me, you’re an insect. I can crush you whenever I want.” He kicked me hard in the stomach. Davies scurried over to wipe the dust from his expensive shoe with a tissue, which she then threw on my face. “Sterling Industries owns seventy percent of the company you work for, Maya,” she purred. “You messed with the wrong people.” The guards closed in, cracking their knuckles. I scrambled backward, my heart pounding with pure terror. “Stay away from me!” Just as their shadows fell over me, the door to the room flew off its hinges with a deafening crash. “Get the hell away from her!” a voice commanded.

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My brother flunked his SATs. The tuition for the private school he needed to get into was ten thousand dollars. My mother called me, her voice slick with a fabricated sweetness. “Honey, your brother needs this chance. We’re just… we’re at the end of our rope.” “There’s cash in the register at the supermarket where I work,” she continued, her words tumbling out in a rehearsed rush. “Tonight, after my shift, I’ll bring the money home. You just tell everyone you stole it. I’ll call the police, they’ll come get you.” “Your Uncle Joe will find out. He’ll pay the money to get you out, I know he will. The store gets its money back, you’re fine, and we’ll have the tuition for your brother. It’s a perfect plan.” I was so stunned by the sheer audacity that I couldn’t speak. I just said no. But she kept crying, telling me how hard her and my father’s lives had been, begging me to just help them this one time. I finally snapped. “Why should I? Your hard life has nothing to do with me.” “You two seem to have no trouble making babies. Maybe you should try watching more TV instead.” 1 I was a sickly child. My first few years were a revolving door of doctor’s visits. I’d be sick for two weeks, healthy for two weeks, like clockwork. My mother’s payday and my father’s payday were the starting pistols for my next illness. My Uncle Joe always joked, “She’s a lucky penny, this one. Knows just when to show up.” My parents didn’t find it so charming, especially not when my mother got pregnant again. The fine for having a second child back then was steep, money they didn’t have. Someone gave my mother a rotten piece of advice. She stuffed my few ragged clothes into a tattered backpack and left me on my Uncle Joe’s doorstep. Before she left, she knelt down, her instructions a hurried whisper. “Your uncle always said you were his lucky penny. Well, today I’m giving him that luck.” “Your Aunt Clara can’t have kids. A real hen that can’t lay. She’ll be so grateful to have you.” “Now, you be good. Your uncle, he married into that family. He doesn’t have much say, no real standing. You understand who’s in charge over there. Don’t be like you are at home, with no sense. Just keep your head down, get by. And don’t forget to come home for holidays and summer breaks. You’ll need to help me out when the baby comes.” She finished, straightened up, and ran. She ran like a demon was chasing her. The front door was closed. The porch roof was tiny, offering no shade. I sat under the blazing southern sun for four hours. By the time my aunt and uncle got home, I was barely conscious. “Joe, what in the world is that lying on our porch?” I heard a woman’s voice, laced with alarm. Then, Uncle Joe’s voice. “Looks like a little girl, Clara.” Aunt Clara sounded exasperated. “Honestly, Joe, you’ve got kids on the brain. Who would leave a child out here? She’s as thin as a dried corn stalk.” Uncle Joe didn’t argue. He really doesn’t have a say in this house, I thought hazily. I can’t cause him any more trouble. He always seemed to like me. My consciousness began to fade, the world dissolving into a low hum. 2 I woke up to the cool, smooth touch of a bamboo mat beneath me. It was the kind my parents had talked about buying for two summers but never did. A luxury. I remembered my mother’s words: “Your uncle married up. He might not have the pride, but he’s got the comfort. The gifts he brings you? Always the newest, most expensive things from town.” The low murmur of an argument drifted from the other room. It wasn’t loud, but every word was a clear, sharp jab. The subject was me. “What is wrong with your brother and his wife, Joe? They haven’t visited in years, and when they do, they can’t even look you in the eye. Now they just dump a child on our doorstep? If you let this stand, you’re a fool.” “And we both know what’s going on. I saw her at Christmas, your sister-in-law. Her belly was getting big. She tried to tell me she was just gaining weight. Their pantry is so bare you couldn’t find a single can of beans in it.” “She’s about to have that baby, I’m sure of it! And I heard the fine for a second child is thousands of dollars. They don’t want to pay it, so they just get rid of their first one? That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Uncle Joe’s voice was quiet. “Clara, keep your voice down. You’ll wake her.” “I am keeping my voice down! You know I’m loud! This is me being quiet! I don’t care. First thing tomorrow morning, you are taking her back. I will not be tricked into raising someone else’s child.” A wave of sadness washed over me. I wanted to go home, but the only home I could picture was a place filled with my father’s drunken rages and my mother’s constant, bitter complaints. I snuggled into the cool bamboo mat. Just let me have this one peaceful night, I thought. Let this cool, sweet dream last until morning. 3 The first thing I tasted when I woke was peanut brittle. My eyes snapped open to see Aunt Clara watching me. I didn’t dare spit it out. As I tried to swallow the huge piece whole, she tapped my cheek. “Are you silly? It’s candy. You chew it. You choke on that, and your mother will be suing me for sure.” I tried to tell her I wouldn’t, but the candy was too big, and I just drooled a little instead. She looked slightly disgusted and stepped back, tossing a few more pieces of candy onto the bed beside me. “Eat one if you feel dizzy.” She pointed to a large, red tin on the dresser. “That’s full of them. Put a couple in your pocket before you go out.” It was a fancy brand, the kind of thing you only got for Christmas. My mother bought a tin once. I’d sneak a piece every few days until it was empty before the holiday, which earned me a good spanking. The memory of that rich, nutty sweetness was still vivid. I chewed, and just like I remembered, the flavor chased away all the bad thoughts. Later, as we were getting ready for lunch, I heard Uncle Joe say, “I’ll head over to my brother’s after we eat.” He’s taking me back. My mother had said that wasn’t my home anymore, that my brother couldn’t be born if I was there. I glanced at the candy tin. Maybe I could grab a couple of pieces before I left. But Aunt Clara was probably just being polite. No one likes a greedy kid. Sure enough, Uncle Joe said, “Lily-Anne, are you still chewing on candy? It’s lunchtime.” I thought he was about to scold me, but then he added, “Finish it up, but next time, make sure you brush your teeth right after. Cavities are no joke.” 4 I ate lunch with a knot of anxiety in my stomach. I was sure I’d be too worried to eat, but the sweet and sour ribs were the best thing I’d ever tasted. I ate four pieces before I remembered my mother’s rule: “Be polite at other people’s houses and don’t eat too much.” It was too late. Aunt Clara made a “tsk” sound, and I immediately put down my chopsticks. But she was looking at my uncle. “Joe, what in God’s name do they feed this child at your brother’s house? Air?” “She’s been sick a lot, Clara. They haven’t had much money to spare.” Aunt Clara rolled her eyes. “A cold costs a few dollars. Don’t let them fool you. They just want your money. You think a child who can eat like this is unhealthy? They’ve been saving every penny for that boy they’re so desperate to have. You just wait, they’ll have a new house built within two years.” Uncle Joe glanced at me, then back at his wife. “Don’t talk like that in front of the kid, Clara. Eat up, Lily-Anne. Your aunt’s not the best cook, is she? Next time, I’ll make you my famous barbecue. You’ll forget all about these ribs.” Aunt Clara ignored him. “I’m not talking nonsense. You adults think kids are deaf and dumb, but they know exactly what’s going on. Now hurry up and finish so you can get going. And don’t you come back until you’ve sorted this mess out. I’m sick of the sight of your family name.” I, a member of that family, quickly finished my rice. Uncle Joe, another member, was even faster. He dropped his fork. “Be right back. And don’t even think about cooking dinner. You’ll just waste food.” 5 I watched Uncle Joe pedal away on his bicycle, a single thought in my head: Did he forget to take me with him? Aunt Clara tapped the table. “Those ribs weren’t too good, were they? A bit bitter.” I nodded honestly. “A little. But the meat was really good.” She pushed her chair back, her expression a mirror of my uncle’s. “You wait right here. Your uncle will be back soon. He’ll make you something better.” She started clearing the table, and I saw she was about to scrape the leftover ribs into the trash. In a flash, I scooped them all into my bowl. “I can finish them, Aunt Clara. They’re delicious.” She muttered under her breath as she washed the dishes, “How did that rotten branch of a man produce such a clever little sprout? And why does my good man get no reward for being so kind?” That afternoon, Aunt Clara and I sat on the porch, waiting. The sun wasn’t as harsh as the day before, and a gentle breeze blew through. “Do you have a garden?” I asked her quietly. “I can help plant and pick vegetables.” I held up my skinny arms. “I’m stronger than I look. I’m a really good worker.” A man walked by with a basket of fresh-picked green beans. “I can shell beans, too,” I added quickly. “I’m fast, and the fuzzy stuff doesn’t make me itch.” She didn’t say anything, just kept her eyes fixed on the road. After a long time, a figure appeared in the distance. It was Uncle Joe, pedaling hard. He was holding something up in the air, shouting, “I got it done!” 6 I didn’t know what “it” was, but he looked thrilled, and even Aunt Clara broke into a wide, beautiful smile. She pulled a small, brick-red booklet from her pocket and clutched it to her chest. “Let’s have lamb hot pot for dinner. My dad got a whole lamb from the butcher in town. He said to come pick it up.” Uncle Joe smiled and ruffled my hair. “Let’s go, Lily-Anne. We’ll take you over to Grandpa’s and tell him the news.” I was still completely bewildered, standing frozen in place. Aunt Clara chimed in, “We’re not calling her Lily-Anne anymore. Awful name. It sounds like you’re saying ‘man, man, man.’ No wonder their luck’s been so bad.” Uncle Joe chuckled. “Her name’s on the certificate. We can use the one you picked out before.” He looked down at me. “How about we call you Cora? It means ‘maiden,’ like a fresh start. We’ll make a happy life together, the three of us.” Cora. It was a beautiful name. When my mother had called me Lily-Anne, I never thought anything of it. But in school, I’d learned how she slurred the syllables together, making it sound harsh and ugly. I’d tried to correct her, but she’d just wave me away. “That’s just how I talk. Don’t bother me with little things.” Aunt Clara opened the little red booklet. “Wait a minute,” she said, frowning. “Joe, didn’t we agree to only change her first name, not her last?” Uncle Joe was still smiling. “I married into your family, Clara. It’s only right our child takes your name. Besides, Sterling sounds much better than Miller. Cora Sterling. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” That evening, Aunt Clara couldn’t stop looking at Uncle Joe. Her eyes were brighter than any star in the sky. 7 Aunt Clara’s parents lived right next door. The houses were so close that if you spoke loudly, you could have a conversation from your own living room. The moment she’d mentioned lamb, a booming voice had yelled from the other side of the wall: “Don’t bother picking it up! I’ll cook it and you can all come over here to eat!” His voice was a carbon copy of Aunt Clara’s. As soon as we walked in, her father, a man with a booming voice and a kind face, looked at me. “Well now, look at this shy little thing. Not even a hello?” I quickly mumbled, “Hello, Grandpa.” He grinned and, like a magician, pulled a red envelope from his pocket. “Here you go. A little welcome gift.” I was stunned. Uncle Joe looked just as surprised. “Dad, when did you get this ready?” “With you two shouting all day, the whole neighborhood knows what’s going on. Did you bring the birth certificate? Let me see it.” Uncle Joe dashed out the door to get it, but Aunt Clara, without missing a beat, pulled the red booklet from her pocket and handed it to her father. The old man’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “It’s good. The name is good. You two finally have a child. Now you can have a real life, full of flavor.” I still didn’t fully grasp what a birth certificate meant for me. Not until Grandpa said, “From now on, you’ll live with your aunt and uncle. And one day, you’ll take care of them when they’re old. You understand?” I nodded quickly. Aunt Clara just waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. Did you keep me around just so I’d take care of you?” Grandpa huffed. “That’s different! You couldn’t have children, and you were always sickly. If I hadn’t kept you close, you would have been miserable at some in-law’s house.” “Exactly. And I’m just like you. I’m not raising a child for old-age insurance. I just love kids.” Just then, Uncle Joe ran back in, looking panicked. “Oh no, I think I lost the new certificate!” We all burst out laughing.

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I’ve always done whatever my brother Leo says. So when the new scholarship kid stole his spotlight, and Leo told me to put him in his place, I gave him my best loyal-puppy nod. The new kid, Ethan, looked like he was starving, so I deliberately shoved a tray loaded with greasy food in front of him, forcing him. “Eat it.” Ethan was always cold, so in the dead of winter, I’d make him warm my hands, just to feel him shiver. I even cornered him in the library, and knowing he was a total neat freak, I threw my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest. “How’s that?” I whispered maliciously. “Feeling sick to your stomach yet?” That’s when a series of glitched-out captions flashed in front of my eyes. 【Dumbass side character, you’re picking on the wrong guy! That’s the real heir to the Harrison fortune, your future adoptive brother.】 【But don’t worry. With your pathetic little schemes, you’ve already got him hooked, line, and sinker.】 A second later, Ethan slowly turned his head, his face bright red. “Thank you,” he stammered. “I… I really like it.” Leo and I were both from the system. When the Harrisons came to the group home to pick a kid, they chose Leo in a heartbeat. Everyone was jealous. He’d hit the jackpot, on his way to the good life. But Leo just clung to the doorframe and refused to let go. He wailed that I was his best friend and he wouldn’t leave without me. His crying was so loud it turned the director’s face a pale shade of green. The director hesitated. “Perhaps I could show you some of the other children?” But the Harrisons said they admired Leo’s loyalty. So, just like that, they took us both. Overnight, our lives were flipped upside down. We went from being two nobodies in a group home to the prince and princess of New York’s elite. We were a big deal wherever we went. Of course, Leo was the real star. He was handsome, a straight-A student, and the star quarterback. The undisputed king of Northwood Preparatory Academy. But when Ethan Cole showed up on a scholarship, Leo’s throne started to wobble. At the Homecoming King election, Leo lost to Ethan by a single vote. To make it worse, the girl Leo had a massive crush on, Maya, had cast that deciding vote for Ethan. That day, Leo came to me, looking like his world had ended. He said Ethan was making his life miserable. Ever since we were little, I knew my cushy life was all thanks to Leo refusing to leave me behind. So, I snapped into loyal-sister mode. “Leo, just tell me. What do you need me to do?” He wanted me to teach Ethan a lesson, make him back off so he’d stop trying to steal my future sister-in-law. I agreed instantly. Messing with us was the biggest mistake he’d ever make. The Harrisons had raised me to be bold and fearless. Ruining someone’s day? I was an expert. I watched Ethan for a whole week. He wore the same faded, washed-out hoodie every day, and he was so thin he looked like a strong gust of wind could snap him in two. I’d heard rumors he had some kind of eating disorder. So, during lunch, I grabbed my tray and slammed it down on the table right across from him. His lunch was a cup of watery soup and a few sad-looking lettuce leaves. Pathetic. I swiped his container off the table and pushed mine forward. It was loaded with a double bacon cheeseburger, a mountain of chili cheese fries, and a thick chocolate milkshake. A full-on calorie bomb I’d picked out just for him. Ethan just stared at me, completely baffled. I slapped the table, jutted out my chin, and looked down my nose at him. “Eat it.” This stuff was the complete opposite of his rabbit food. He had to be disgusted. Sure enough, he just sat there, holding his fork, not moving. I glared. “You’re going to eat every last bite of what’s in front of you. You hear me?” I leaned in, my voice dropping to a growl. “If you don’t, I’ll get creative.” Ethan looked at me, and then he finally moved. He cautiously picked up the burger and took a tiny bite. He chewed so slowly, like he was trying to make one bite last an hour. A whole tray of this stuff would take him forever. Leo was supposed to meet me on the bleachers later. I didn’t have time for this. I grabbed the spoon, scooped up a huge glob of chili cheese fries, and shoved it towards his mouth. “Open up. Let’s go.” I’m stronger than I look. I just kept pushing the spoon towards him until he had no choice but to open his mouth and eat everything I fed him. All while he kept stealing glances at me. He had to be cursing my name in his head. As I was silently congratulating myself, those weird captions flashed in front of my eyes again. 【Is this how you bully someone? Seriously?】 【Ethan doesn’t have an eating disorder, you idiot. He’s broke. He can’t afford to buy decent food, that’s why he eats like that.】 【If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t even have a chance to eat a burger.】 I froze. I looked at Ethan, who was now methodically working his way through the fries, looking almost… happy. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I remembered my first year in the group home. We got two wilted pieces of spinach for dinner, and meat was a once-a-month holiday miracle. Kids would get into fistfights over a single piece of chicken. Suddenly, I felt a pang of pity for Ethan. But I squashed that ridiculous thought immediately. He made my brother miserable. He deserved whatever was coming to him. “Ethan!” I yelled, slapping the table again. He looked up, a fry hanging out of his mouth. “From now on, I’m in charge of your lunch. Got it?” I’d made up my mind. I was going to make Ethan eat greasy, heavy food every single day. I’d make him eat until he puked, until he got fat, until he ballooned into a 300-pound linebacker. Let’s see him compete with my brother for Homecoming King then. Fearing he might misunderstand my intentions, I quickly added, “It’s just that this stuff is so greasy it makes me sick to look at. I don’t want it, so I’m giving it to you.” But in that moment, Ethan’s usually gloomy eyes suddenly lit up. They sparkled like distant stars. “Okay,” he said. My plan backfired. Spectacularly. After a month of eating my “leftovers,” Ethan did gain weight. But only about fifteen pounds. He just looked less skeletal and more… solid. Healthier. It only made more girls crush on him. During the championship basketball game, both Ethan and Leo were playing. The crowd used to be a sea of cheers for Leo. But this time, the chants for “Ethan! Ethan!” were way louder. And then, the final nail in the coffin: Maya, the girl Leo was crazy about, ran onto the court to give Ethan a bottle of water. After the game, Leo was glumly sipping the water I gave him. “Paige, I thought you were gonna handle him. Is this what ‘handling him’ looks like?” He sighed dramatically. “It’s fine. I lose the title, I lose the girl… I guess I was just born to lose.” He looked up at me with those kicked-puppy eyes. “Don’t worry about me, sis. I’ll survive.” Leo’s always been kind of a softie. When things got tough, he always relied on me. I couldn’t stand seeing him so down. I patted his shoulder firmly. “Leo, I swear, this time I’m going to properly humiliate him. Just you wait.” Ethan was a guy, and guys have fragile egos. I came up with the perfect way to crush his. I cornered him after school as he was getting on his beat-up bicycle. “What’s the rush?” Ethan held the handlebars, answering me seriously. “My mom’s in the hospital. I’m going to see her.” “Oh, well then you should—” I stopped myself, remembering my promise to Leo. I grabbed his collar. “Hold on, you’re not going anywhere!” I pulled a black debit card from my purse, holding it between two fingers like it was something dirty. I tilted my chin up, my voice dripping with condescension. “There’s ten grand on this. A little gift from me.” I expected a scholarship kid to have some pride. I thought he’d be furious at the insult. But he just looked at me, his eyes swirling with some unreadable emotion, and reached for the card. “Paige… thank you.” The pop-up captions appeared again, frantic this time. 【Ethan’s mom is seriously ill. She needs surgery, and it costs ten thousand dollars.】 【He’s been trying to borrow money from everyone but couldn’t get it. He’s been stressing about it for weeks.】 【Paige, honey, giving him this money right now is like sending a lifeboat to a drowning man. How is this supposed to be humiliating?】 【If this is humiliation, please, humiliate me like this every day!】 I froze. Just as his fingers were about to touch the card, I snatched it back. I threw it on the grimy pavement and stepped on it with my pristine white sneaker. “You think it’s that easy?” “Ethan, my shoe is dirty. Clean it.” He stared at the ground, not saying a word. The veins on the back of his hand popped out. He had to be feeling utterly humiliated. I thought about how he’d smiled and talked with Maya on the court, leaving my brother to sulk on the sidelines. My anger flared up again. I sat down on a nearby bench, stuck my foot out, and commanded, “Hurry up.” He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a clean napkin. He knelt. His warm hand suddenly wrapped around my ankle, and the unexpected touch made me flinch. “What are you doing?” I snapped. He didn’t answer. He just placed my foot on his knee and began to carefully wipe away the tiny smudge on my shoe. His eyelashes were long and curved, casting little shadows on his cheeks. I had to admit, the guy wasn’t hard to look at. He kept wiping, over and over, probably because he was so angry and humiliated he couldn’t think straight. Even his ears were turning red. Satisfied with the sight of my shoe print on his jeans, I finally pulled my foot back. “Fine. The money’s yours. Take it.” I added one last jab. “And stay away from other girls from now on. Don’t you know about personal space?” He seemed furious, his whole face flushed, but he just nodded silently. I was satisfied. Finally, I’d completed the mission Leo gave me. But I never expected Ethan to be so untrustworthy. It only took two days for him to break his promise. Leo was going to confess to Maya. He’d set the stage on the school rooftop. He filled it with pink balloons and had a huge bouquet of roses ready. It was just supposed to be a few sentences, but Leo was so nervous he practiced it over and over, checking his watch while he waited for her. The agreed-upon time came and went. No Maya. Fifteen more minutes passed. Still no Maya. Leo couldn’t take it anymore. He sent a friend to find out what was going on, only to learn that Ethan had intercepted Maya and taken her somewhere. After hearing the news, Leo just sat there, a lonely figure in a sea of pink balloons, sighing into the wind. His empty gaze fell on me. “Paige…” Before he could even finish, I jumped in. “Don’t worry, Leo. I’ll humiliate him again tomorrow.” “No, that’s not it. I was wondering… can you make Maya give up on Ethan?” That was a tough one. I was good at bullying people. This whole relationship thing was way over my head. Seeing the look on my face, Leo sighed again. “Never mind. If you can’t, just roughing him up a bit for me is fine too.” It was the middle of winter, and Leo had been on the freezing rooftop for hours. As he spoke, he let out a huge sneeze. That’s when I remembered an essay Ethan had written. It was passed around as a model for the whole grade. In it, he wrote that he was born with a poor constitution and had always been afraid of the cold. Heh. If I can’t fatten you up, I’ll freeze you to death. I intercepted Ethan again, this time hopping onto the back of his bicycle without an invitation. “Ethan, take me home.” He froze, his long legs keeping the bike steady. “Paige, don’t you have a driver who picks you up?” I shot him a glare. “What, I’m not allowed to ride your bike now?” “That’s not what I meant,” he explained hastily. “It’s too cold in the winter. You should take the car.” “Ethan,” I said, staring at his scarf and giving it a tug. “Take off your scarf. Give it to me.” “And the gloves. Take those off too.” He obediently did as I said, wrapping his scarf snugly around my neck and placing his gloves in my lap. I was about to put them on when I saw Maya walking towards us from a distance. Remembering Leo’s request, an idea sparked. “Ethan, my hands are freezing.” I’ve always had poor circulation. My hands and feet turn to ice in the winter. Ethan pursed his lips. “I can help you put on the gloves?” “Ha. I’m not using your second-hand stuff.” As Maya got closer, I held my hands out to him. “Use your hands to warm mine.” Ethan looked at me, stunned. After a moment of intense internal struggle under my tyrannical gaze, his palm slowly came to rest on the back of my hand. My hand must have been like a block of ice, because his movements were incredibly hesitant. I stared at his face. “Ethan, your face is really red. Is it warm?” “Put my hands on your cheeks. Warm them up for me, you hear?” Ethan’s face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. The hand holding mine trembled slightly. “That’s… not appropriate.” “What’s not appropriate? I’m just using your face for a little warmth.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maya getting closer. I had a pretty good guess why he was being so difficult. Maya was beautiful, with a gentle but strong personality. Half the guys at school were in love with her. I leaned in closer to Ethan. “Is it because you have a crush on someone?” He flinched and immediately denied it, his voice frantic. “N-no, I don’t…” But his denial was weak, his eyes darting all over the place. A classic case of protesting too much. So he did like Maya. But Maya was my future sister-in-law. I couldn’t let him have her. To make him give up, I grabbed his collar. “Right now, this instant, use your face to warm my hands, or you’ll be sorry.” I’d already decided. If he refused, I was putting wasabi in his lunch tomorrow. Ethan looked at me, then slowly lowered his head, bringing my hands closer to his face. Then, he tilted his head, and his cheek pressed silently against my palm. The skin under my hand was warm and soft, like the stray kitten I’d once rescued from a dumpster at the group home. That little cat loved to be cuddled. Whenever I scratched its chin, it would stretch out and look at me with the same innocent, harmless eyes. When I didn’t say anything, Ethan gently rubbed his cheek against my palm. “Is that any warmer?” Maya was almost here. I just needed to hold this pose for ten more seconds. But right at that critical moment, I chickened out. “Um, my driver’s almost here. I think I’ll just take the car home after all.” “Oh, right, here’s your stuff back.” I hastily unwrapped the scarf, hung it back on his neck, turned around, and bolted. The look in his eyes just now… it gave me this weird feeling of guilt. The thought that I’d taken his scarf and gloves, knowing how much he hated the cold, just to let the winter wind bite at him… it made me feel like a monster. I was running so fast I slammed right into Leo. He looked at me, confused. “Paige? What’s wrong?” he asked. “Weren’t you going to teach Ethan a lesson? Why do you look so freaked out? Did he do something to you?” I grabbed Leo’s sleeve. “Leo, let’s try a different approach.” “Let’s just leave Ethan alone. You like Maya, so I’ll help you win her over. Let’s not waste our energy on him.” Leo thought about it for a moment and then nodded, agreeing it was a solid plan. “Leo, go write a love letter. I’ll deliver it to Maya for you tomorrow.” That night, Leo pulled an all-nighter, writing an eight-thousand-word epic. He poured every ounce of his literary talent into it, citing classic literature and building an irrefutable case around his central thesis: “I like you.” While he was scribbling away, I was staring at the moon, lost in thought. When I wore Ethan’s scarf today, I noticed a thread had come loose at the corner, leaving a thumb-sized hole. After bullying him for so long, my conscience was starting to bother me. I wanted to buy him a new scarf. What style should I get? Just then, Leo sealed his masterpiece in an envelope and presented it to me with both hands. I took it solemnly, promising to complete the mission. But the delivery went horribly wrong. The letter ended up in Ethan’s hands.

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It was day three of freshman orientation, and the August heat was brutal. I paid a few of the guys from our orientation group to help me haul the Starbucks order from the campus cafe. “Dismissed!” the orientation leader finally yelled. The sun was beating down, and a couple of kids had already tapped out with heatstroke. I figured a round of Frappuccinos was in order. Honestly, I was mostly just craving one myself, but drinking alone felt kind of lame. Plus, my older brother, Evan, had been on my case about “making connections” and “building a network,” so this was a perfect excuse. It also didn’t hurt that the Starbucks on campus was technically one of my brother’s investments. He’s a total health nut and got paranoid about the syrups and additives at other coffee shops, so he had his executive assistant, Jessica, arrange for a high-end, organic-focused franchise right on campus. At least this way, he knew the stuff I was drinking wasn’t complete poison. After the guys helped me set down the cardboard trays, I started handing out the drinks, giving the first few to them as a thank-you. As I moved on to the rest of our group, a sharp scoff cut through the chatter. “Wow, can’t even hand out coffee without sucking up to the guys first. Pathetic.” I frowned, trying to pinpoint where the voice came from, but everyone was crowding around, grabbing for the icy drinks. It was impossible to see who’d said it. I sighed. Whatever. Haters gonna hate, right? I kept passing out the Frappuccinos, and everyone who got one was ecstatic. “Zoe, you’re the best!” “All hail Queen Zoe! You have my undying loyalty for the next four years!” I laughed, joking back with them. But then, that same snide voice piped up again. “College students, and you’re all bought for the price of a sugary drink. What a bunch of short-sighted sheep.” This time, before I could even react, other people jumped in. “Says the person hiding in the back and whispering insults. Got something to say? Say it to her face!” another girl shot back. “Seriously! Zoe’s just being nice because we’re all melting out here. What’s your problem? Don’t like it, don’t drink it. God, what a jerk.” I stood there, feeling awkward with the last tray of drinks in my hands. I suddenly remembered what Evan had told me before I left for school. “Zo, be friendly, but don’t be too flashy. You never know who you’re dealing with, and sometimes people get jealous. You can do something nice and still get burned for it.” Maybe this is what he was talking about. It takes all kinds, I guess. Trying to de-escalate, I spoke to the anonymous voice in the crowd. “Hey, I’m not trying to buy anyone’s friendship. I just genuinely wanted to do something nice since it’s so hot. I really do want to be friends with everyone.” My explanation was met with a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “Genuinely?” the voice sneered. “You call showing off with your brother’s hard-earned money ‘genuine’?” A skinny girl with a severe haircut pushed her way out of the crowd. She marched right up to me and, without a word, slapped the Frappuccino right out of my hand. The plastic cup hit the track, splitting open on impact. Caramel-colored slush splattered all over the rubberized surface, a good amount of it soaking into the cuff of my orientation-issued sweatpants. It was sticky and gross, and I was so stunned I just stood there frozen. “Zoe, I know your family has money,” she spat, her voice trembling with rage. “But that’s your brother’s money, earned through his hard work! What gives you the right to just throw it away like this?” “I can’t stand entitled princesses like you who’ve never worked a day in their lives!” she continued, her voice rising. “Orientation is supposed to build character, to teach us discipline! And what do you do? You disrupt everything, encouraging everyone to indulge in lazy consumerism. Don’t you see how desperate you look for attention?” “You call it genuine? I call it flexing. You just wanted to show off!” Before I could process what was happening, she kicked the cardboard tray, sending the remaining dozen Frappuccinos flying. Then, she pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “Our orientation leader is out sick, so she appointed me as the temporary group leader.” She held up the paper, which had some scribbled handwriting on it. “From now on, everyone in this group listens to me. Nobody is allowed to drink the coffee Zoe bought! Anyone who does, I’m reporting you for disorderly conduct during orientation.” The group went silent. Everyone stared, wide-eyed and heartbroken, at the sugary puddles on the ground. The girl, however, seemed to be high on her own power trip. She even started introducing herself. Her name was Sarah Jenkins, she said. She was a scholarship student from a poor town in Appalachia. She’d known real hardship, which is why she couldn’t stand to see people like us squandering our privilege. “You people can’t handle a little heat? The men in my town work in factories in hundred-degree weather, and you don’t see them whining for five-dollar coffees!” she lectured. “If our universities are just churning out spoiled brats like you, what’s the future of this country? I may not be able to change everyone, but as long as I’m in charge here, I will not let this culture of extravagance take root in our group!” She turned back to me, her eyes burning. “Zoe, you started this. After today’s session, you will write a five-thousand-word apology. And whatever you spent on these drinks, you will deposit that same amount into a group fund. You love showing off your money? Fine. That money will now be used to buy bottled water for everyone for the rest of the week. I will be the one to distribute it. Frugally.” Her speech left everyone speechless. She’d taken my simple gesture of buying coffee and twisted it into a national crisis. The moral high ground she’d claimed was so extreme, no one knew how to argue. The few guys who’d already started their drinks quietly put them down. Everyone shuffled back to their spots on the field. I started to walk back, too. As I passed her, our eyes met for a split second. And in that moment, I remembered a photo. It was a headshot on a file in my brother’s office, under a stack of papers for his foundation’s scholarship program. He had even mentioned her to me. “Zo, this girl is going to the same university as you, same major and everything. The foundation is sponsoring her. When you get to campus, maybe she can show you the ropes, help you out.” So, this was Sarah. The girl my brother was paying to go to college. At lunch, my new roommate, Riley, was still fuming about the morning’s disaster as we sat in the dining hall. “I still can’t believe that girl! You do something nice for everyone, and Sarah just goes completely psycho,” she complained, stabbing a French fry with her fork. “And what’s with the ‘temporary leader’ power trip? Acting like she’s a drill sergeant. Ugh, I was so looking forward to that Frappuccino!” Riley threw her head back and pretended to cry. I pushed a piece of my fried chicken onto her plate. “Here, have this. I’ll get you another one later, I promise.” “Maybe she’s just… intense,” I offered, trying to be charitable. “Different backgrounds, you know? We can’t really relate, so maybe we should just steer clear.” As I spoke, I accidentally nudged Riley’s arm, and the piece of chicken I’d just given her tumbled onto the table. We looked at each other, and then both said at the same time: “Five-second rule!” Riley was just about to snatch it up and rinse it off when Sarah appeared at our table. She slammed her tray down with a loud bang that made half the dining hall look over. Riley and I just stared at her, completely confused. Here we go again. “Zoe, was I not clear enough on the field this morning?” she began, her voice dripping with condescension. “You think because you’re rich, you can just be wasteful? Do you have any idea what it takes to raise a chicken, the labor that goes into getting this food on our plates? People work their fingers to the bone so we can eat, and you just toss a perfectly good piece of chicken away because it touched the table for a second? Are you even human? Do you deserve to be in college?” I officially retracted my earlier statement about her being “intense.” She was just a straight-up lunatic who loved to hear herself talk. I was done being nice. I stood up. “First of all,” I said, my voice sharp and clear. “We didn’t throw it away. We were about to apply the five-second rule and eat it before you showed up and started your unhinged rant. Secondly, while I may not know the ins and outs of poultry farming, I do know not to waste food. Unlike you, who kicked over an entire box of perfectly good drinks that people worked to make. What, in your mind, the labor of a barista doesn’t count as ‘real work’? Is it okay to trample on their efforts?” I leaned in closer. “And finally, when you slammed your tray down, you spilled rice all over the floor. Since you’re such an expert on thrift and appreciating every grain, why don’t you pick it up and eat it?” Riley, catching on, quickly grabbed the piece of chicken, ran it under the water fountain, and popped it in her mouth. She chewed dramatically, swallowed, and then pointed to the grains of rice on the floor by Sarah’s feet, raising an eyebrow. “See? I ate it. No food wasted here,” Riley said with a smirk. “Your turn.” Sarah’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. With a furious scream, she swept everything off our table—trays, plates, cups—sending a shower of food and soda across the floor. My white sneakers and Riley’s jeans were instantly splattered with greasy, sticky stains. She stood there, glaring at our ruined clothes, a triumphant smirk flashing across her face before it melted back into a mask of victimhood. “Zoe! Riley! You are going too far!” she cried, her voice cracking. “I was just trying to make a point about not wasting food, and you—you publicly humiliate me like this! I know you rich people look down on us, but do you have to be so cruel?” I almost laughed. We had no intention of actually making her eat rice off the floor; we were just trying to get her to back off. But she had to escalate, had to turn everything into some grand class struggle. We’re all just college students here. Nobody cares where you came from until you make it your entire personality. Was I supposed to feel guilty for being born into a good family? My patience was completely gone. “How did we humiliate you?” I shot back. “You’re the one who preaches about waste. Riley ate the chicken. She practiced what you preached. But when it’s your turn, suddenly all your high-and-mighty principles don’t apply?” “You know what, Sarah? I was going to let the whole Frappuccino thing go, but you just had to keep pushing. So, let’s settle this. This morning, you destroyed thirty-five drinks. At seven dollars a pop, that’s two hundred and forty-five dollars. Then there are my shoes.” I pointed to my ruined designer sneakers. “These are fifteen hundred dollars. They’re covered in your mess. I won’t even make you replace them. Just pay for the specialty cleaning. The place I go charges fifty bucks. So that’s… let’s call it an even three hundred dollars you owe me. Pay up.” If she wanted me to be the spoiled rich girl, fine. I could play that part. Riley chimed in. “Oh, yeah, me too. My jeans aren’t as expensive as Zoe’s shoes, but they’re not cheap. The cleaning fee will be twenty bucks.” If I remembered correctly, my brother had only transferred one month of living expenses to Sarah so far—about five hundred dollars. Given how frugal she claimed to be, she should have more than enough left to cover this. And honestly, this was just my way of getting my family’s money back. If she was so high and mighty, so in love with the struggle, she didn’t need our charity. I have a soft spot for helping people achieve their goals, and Sarah’s goal was clearly to suffer. Who was I to stand in her way? I looked her dead in the eye and used her own favorite weapon against her. “A group leader should lead by example. You’re not going to skip out on your debt, are you?” The other students in the dining hall started chiming in. “Yeah, leaders should be responsible!” “I thought the whole point was ‘poor but proud.’ Is that only for show?” “Seriously, Zoe and Riley’s money didn’t just appear out of thin air. You wrecked their stuff. If you don’t pay, they should just call campus security.” Cornered and outnumbered, Sarah had no choice. She pulled out her phone and, with a pained expression, Venmoed me and Riley the money. I watched the notification pop up on my screen and smiled. Then I held up my phone for everyone to see. “This afternoon,” I announced, “the Frappuccinos are on me again!” During the afternoon orientation session, I went up to our leader and explained the situation. He was surprisingly cool about it and gave me permission to get more drinks for the group, even assigning a few people to help me carry them. When we got back, I started handing them out. To my surprise, Sarah was standing in line. I was looking down as I passed out the cups, so I didn’t see her until it was her turn. When I looked up, she had the same condescending expression on her face. “I’m not here because I want one of your drinks,” she said haughtily. “I just think since you already bought them, it would be wasteful not to take one. So I’m queuing up. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even bother.” She sniffed. “After all, I’m not like you people, always chasing cheap thrills.” I nodded slowly, a small smile playing on my lips. Then I snatched the Frappuccino back out of her hand. “Oh, in that case, I wouldn’t want to force you to indulge with the rest of us hedonists,” I said sweetly. “I only bought thirty-four this time anyway, so I didn’t have one for you to begin with. Could you please step aside? You’re holding up the line.” The guy behind her didn’t even wait for her to move. He just hip-checked her out of the way and took the drink I offered him. He happened to be one of the guys who’d helped me that morning and gotten cheated out of his coffee, so he shot Sarah a nasty look. He walked right up to her, took a long, exaggerated sip, and sighed with pleasure. “Mmm, delicious. What’s wrong, Sarah? Don’t like Frappuccinos? Or just can’t afford one?” Sarah’s face turned beet red. She clenched her fists, glared at me for a long moment, and then finally yelled, “You’ll regret this, Zoe! Don’t you dare underestimate me!” That evening, Riley and I were in our dorm room, binging a new show on Netflix, when she suddenly shot up from her chair. “OMG, OMG, OMG!” she shrieked. “What is it?” I asked, startled. She swallowed hard. “I was just scrolling through the campus Yik Yak, and there’s a huge rumor going around that Evan Holt’s secret fiancée is a freshman here at our school!” “Zoe, you know who Evan Holt is, right? The CEO of Holt Holdings?” She shoved her phone in my face, showing me the anonymous message board. “Look, people are saying she’s in the class of ’29! Holy crap, can you imagine? Who is that lucky? I heard he’s ridiculously hot.” She paused, looking at me. “Wait, why are you so calm? Don’t tell me you don’t know who Evan Holt is.” Riley shook my shoulder. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a little awkward. How was I supposed to tell her that not only did I know who Evan Holt was, but he was also my brother? But that wasn’t the main issue. The main issue was, since when did my brother have a fiancée? Wasn’t he… gay? I grabbed Riley’s arm to stop her from vibrating with excitement. “Riley, calm down. Evan Holt… he’s my brother.” “Holt Holdings is named after him, and my name, Zoe Holt, is where the ‘Z.H.’ in the logo comes from.” Riley just stared at me. She grabbed me, spun me around three times like she was inspecting me for alien markings. “Are you serious? Evan Holt is your brother? But your last name isn’t Holt.” “I use my mom’s last name,” I explained. “But he’s like, six-foot-three, and you’re… five-foot-three.” Ugh, why does everyone always bring up my height? It’s not my fault I didn’t win the genetic lottery in that department. Just then, my phone buzzed with a video call from Evan. I answered, and his handsome face filled the screen. Oh, wait. Two handsome faces. My brother, and his movie-star boyfriend, Leo Vance. The moment they both said “Hey, Zo!” Riley let out a squeal that could shatter glass. “NO WAY! Zoe, you really are Evan Holt’s sister!” she whisper-shouted. “Wait a minute… why is he with Leo Vance? The Leo Vance? Isn’t he, like, super private about his dating life?” I nodded awkwardly. “Yeah. My brother’s even more private.” Riley’s eyes went wide. “So the whole fiancée rumor on Yik Yak is fake?” “One hundred percent.” Hearing the word “fiancée,” Evan immediately turned to Leo and dropped to his knees on the floor of their hotel room. “Babe, I swear on my life, you’re the only one for me.” Leo just laughed. “Zoe, you’d better screenshot this. You can use it to blackmail him for money later.” “Done and done!” I said, snapping a picture. After a few more jokes, Evan got serious. “So, how’s school, Zo? You look like you’ve lost weight. Is the food in the dining hall that bad?” He scanned my dorm room through the camera. “And what is with this room? It’s so… basic. Are you sure you’re okay here? I told you, you could pick any condo you wanted near campus. Why did you insist on living in a dorm? Look at this hardship you’re enduring.” I glanced around our room. Sure, it was a far cry from my bedroom at home, but it was a pretty standard dorm. Maybe even a little nicer than average. Plus, didn’t he tell me to “integrate with my peers” before I left? Now he was second-guessing. Besides, I really liked Riley. If I moved out, I’d be all alone again. Unless she wanted to move with me, but that was a conversation for after orientation week. “I’m fine, Evan. It’s totally fine,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “Look, we have AC and our own washing machine. I heard from friends at other schools that they have to use a communal laundry room for the whole building. This is practically luxury. Besides, someone already gave us a lecture today about how spoiled we are and how we need to embrace hardship to prepare for the ‘real world.’” Leo immediately jumped in. “Who says everyone has to suffer? If you have the means to be comfortable, choosing to suffer is just stupid. It’s called manufacturing misery. And besides, you have two older brothers. Who would dare give you a hard time?” As Leo was talking, I panned the camera around to give them the full tour. When the lens passed over our bunk beds, both of them frowned. “Wait, are those bunk beds? Is that what college dorms are like now?” Evan asked, horrified. “How is anyone supposed to sleep on a bed that narrow? You know what? If you’re really determined to stay on campus and not get ‘special treatment,’ then fine. Tomorrow, I’ll have the foundation’s finance department wire a donation to the university to renovate all the freshman dorms.” And just like that, it was decided. A corporate donation, in the company’s name. It was actually a smart move—good PR, and it might even attract some top graduates to work for Holt Holdings. I just never imagined that my brother’s act of generosity would end up making the girl pretending to be his fiancée look like the real deal. My brother moves fast. The very next day, during our morning session on the field, we saw a fleet of trucks with the Holt Holdings logo pulling up to the freshman dorms. Swarms of construction workers followed, ready to begin the renovations. The project was being overseen by Evan’s assistant, Jessica. If there’s one thing I can say about my brother, it’s that he absolutely spoils me. Growing up, anything I wanted, he made sure I got it. If I’d asked for the moon, he would’ve found a way to build a ladder. So, in a way, Sarah wasn’t entirely wrong. I’d never really known hardship. Man, I was suddenly missing my brother a lot. My thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of whispers from the girls next to me. “Oh my God, it must be true! The rumor about Evan Holt’s fiancée being here? It was posted yesterday, and today Holt Holdings is renovating the dorms! He’s totally doing it for her. He can’t stand to see his queen suffer in a crappy dorm room.” “I’m so jealous! When will it be my turn to be that lucky?” It was our break time, so the whole group was gossiping. Riley and I just sat and listened. Last night, I’d asked her to keep my connection to Evan a secret for now. I wanted to see who was behind this ridiculous rumor. Just then, Sarah stood up. She had a strange, smug look on her face as she addressed the gossiping girls with disdain. “You’re all so pathetic. Have you never seen real money before?” Then, she stalked over to where Riley and I were sitting on the grass, looming over us. “Zoe, I thought your family was rich. How come they aren’t donating money to renovate the dorms? All you know how to do is buy cheap coffee to win people over. Such a tacky, new-money move.” She smirked. “See? People with real wealth are discreet. They don’t need to flash their cash around like you do.” Her gaze swept over Riley and the others. “And you people,” she sneered, “are just as pathetic. Bought for the price of a Frappuccino. I bet you all feel pretty stupid right now.” Riley, who never backs down from a fight, jumped to her feet. “Stop calling people pathetic! And what’s wrong with a Frappuccino? At least Zoe was being nice, trying to help us cool down. Unlike some people, who are just bitter because they can’t have any.” Someone else chimed in. “Yeah, with the way you’re acting, anyone would think you’re Evan Holt’s fiancée.” Sarah let out a cold, knowing laugh. “Whether I am or not is none of your business. All you need to know is that it could never be any of you.” Riley was about to fire back, but I pulled her down. Her temper was a short fuse, and I was afraid she’d blow our cover. “Riley, not yet,” I whispered. “Don’t scare the snake out of its hole.” And I had a feeling this particular snake was about to make its move.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385567”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Julian Ford was a masterpiece. I figured if I was going to have a first love, it might as well be him. Even if we broke up, there would be no regrets. So I went after him. Hard. He was caught off guard by my pursuit, then intrigued, and finally, he gave in, but not without laying out the terms: we could date, but we would not get married. The moment we graduated, we were over. I agreed instantly. For three years, we lived out a picture-perfect romance. And on graduation day, just as planned, I was the one to bring up the breakup. That’s when he backed out. I was floored. “But we had a deal, right? We break up when we graduate!” I remember how that day ended. Our conversation had completely fallen apart. Julian, who always held his head so high, lowered it and laughed, a bitter, self-mocking sound. “Summer Hayes,” he said, “you better pray we never cross paths again.” From that day on, I made a point to avoid him. But sometimes, God flicks a finger, the world shrinks, and two people are bound to meet again. 1 Julian and I operated under a silent, unspoken rule. We were a campus couple, and that’s all we were. Once we stepped off university grounds for holidays or breaks, we went back to our separate lives and ceased all contact. In those times apart, he was Julian Ford, scion of a powerhouse New York family, and I was just Summer Hayes, a nobody from Charlotte, North Carolina. No texts, no calls, no questions about what the other was doing. It was as if we were single again. I assumed this strange, compartmentalized relationship would last until our pre-planned breakup. But the summer after sophomore year was unusually long—a full eighty days. Before we left campus, Julian asked me, “Are you going to miss me?” I wrapped my arms around him, playing the part. “Mmmhmm, I’ll miss you like crazy.” He pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head, but he was smart enough not to say something foolish like, “Then call me if you miss me.” I’d always admired that rationality in him. His family was in a different stratosphere. His future wife would be chosen from a similar world. We both knew we had no future. This was just a phase, a chance to experience a pure, insulated college romance, and I just happened to be his type. On campus, Julian was my boyfriend. Off campus, when he was a Ford heir, he didn’t want me intruding on his life. I understood, and I played my part perfectly, never crossing the line. What I never could have predicted was that Julian would be the one to break his own rule. The summer was dragging on, and he sent me a message. He was coming back to campus early—a full month before our agreed-upon return date. I was surprised and texted back playfully, “Why so early? Miss me already?” He never replied to that message. But after that, whenever a long break came up, Julian would ask, “Want to go on a trip somewhere?” Most of the time, I’d say yes. We traveled to so many places together. We watched the stars in the vast, open desert of Joshua Tree and saw the sun melt into the ocean in the Florida Keys. I’d get lost in the scenery, completely absorbed, which is why Julian’s sudden kisses always made me jump. He loved to cup my face in his hands, his body pressing down on mine. It was a dominant, possessive kind of kiss. When it came to anything physical, Julian liked to be in control, liked me to be the one yielding to him. But every single time we got to the point of no return, I’d be the one to kill the mood and whisper, “Stop.” His eyes would be clouded with desire, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled for control. He wouldn’t speak, just raise an eyebrow, a silent “Why?” My answer was always the same: “I don’t want to.” Even when he was practically vibrating with need, slick with a thin sheen of sweat, he would stop. Every time. He’d get up, go to the bathroom for a cold shower, and come back to bed to just hold me while we slept. After I’d stopped him enough times, I think he started to figure it out. Eventually, whenever things would start to heat up, he’d pull away on his own and head for a cold shower before I even had to say a word. There was only one exception. One day, he saw a text on my phone from a friend. “Who’s this?” he asked. I didn’t hide it. “A friend from back home in Charlotte.” He didn’t say anything else then, but that night, he was forceful, insistent. I tried to push him away. He pinned my wrists above my head, his body trapping mine. I turned my face away from his kiss, my voice sharp. “Julian, I don’t want this!” “Why not?” he demanded, his voice rough. “Because of your friend in Charlotte?” For a man who was usually the definition of pride and control, his jealousy made him possessive and irrational. I never spelled it out, but I knew Julian understood. The reason I wouldn’t go all the way with him was because I knew he wasn’t the one I would end up with. I didn’t want our connection to become any deeper than it already was. Julian was a gentleman. He understood my reservations and never forced me. But after that night, every time we were intimate, it felt like he was competing with a ghost, pushing the boundaries, testing my resolve. 2 Junior year, second semester. The date we’d set for our breakup was getting closer. The thought of it ending left a hollow ache in my chest. To avoid future pain, I started preparing myself emotionally, detaching piece by piece. That year, Julian planned a trip to England. The second day we were in Kent, while I was still jet-lagged and fast asleep, a group of people burst into our hotel room. I was pulled out of bed, forced into a wedding dress, and my face was made up into a flawless bridal look. Before I knew it, I was being led to a horse-drawn carriage waiting outside. I had no idea when Julian had arranged all of this. He and I had a wedding ceremony in Canterbury Cathedral, officiated by a real priest. There were no guests. Just the two of us. A wedding that meant nothing in the eyes of the law. It wasn’t until the moment we exchanged rings that I finally understood why, for his birthday that year, he had broken tradition and asked me for a gift: a simple ring. It was so that in this moment, I would have something to give him. It was a fake wedding. We both knew it. But that night, when Julian, breathing heavily, started to pull away to take his usual cold shower, I reached out and stopped him. I pulled him back onto the bed and kissed him with everything I had. A tremor went through his entire body. “Summer,” he breathed out, his voice shaking. “It’s our wedding night, Julian,” I murmured against his lips. “Don’t be a spoilsport.” And just like that, I gave in. Who cares what happens tomorrow? I thought. Just for today, I, Summer Hayes, am Julian Ford’s bride. I let myself be reckless. Just this once. I thought it would be just once, but it turned out to be many times. Some boundaries, once crossed, can never be rebuilt. You just keep retreating, losing more ground. Julian and I were both out of control, the brakes had failed. I told myself it was just a final, wild countdown. A way to create one last, insane memory, to make my time with Julian Ford truly count for something. I wasn’t sure when Julian would bring up the breakup. After all, our agreement was simple: date, don’t marry, break up at graduation. There was no specific day circled on the calendar. I waited in agony for a while, but he never said a word. My flight back to Charlotte was booked, and I couldn’t put it off any longer. We needed a formal goodbye. I asked him to meet me at a quiet restaurant near campus and I broke up with him. I thought I knew how he would react. I expected his usual cool, composed demeanor. A graceful acceptance, a polite and gentlemanly farewell. I never expected him to just look at me silently and say, “No.” I was so stunned I couldn’t process it. “No? What do you mean, no?” He stared deep into my eyes. “Summer, I don’t want to break up.” 3 My mind went into a tailspin. Julian was not the kind of person to go back on his word. He was a man of honor, always true to what he said. That’s why I had been so certain that our breakup was inevitable. I never, ever imagined he would change his mind. When did he change his mind? How did I miss it? Panic started to bubble up inside me. I had never, for a single moment, considered a future with Julian Ford. Graduating and breaking up was, in my mind, the perfect, happy ending for both of us. His last-minute reversal threw me completely off balance. I couldn’t speak, just stared at him in disbelief. My reaction was clearly not what he’d been hoping for. A rare urgency crept into his voice. “I know what you’re worried about.” “Summer, just give me five years.” “Five years from now, I promise you, no one in the Ford family will interfere with my marriage.” “When that time comes, we’ll have a real wedding. We’ll invite all our friends and family. We’ll get a marriage license with the state seal on it and we’ll tell the whole world that we belong to each other.” “Summer,” he asked, his voice pleading, “what do you say?” Faced with his earnest gaze, my own eyes darted away guiltily. I forced the words out, my voice tight and stuttering. “But… we had a deal. We break up when we graduate.” Julian flinched, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “What?” It had come to this. If I didn’t lay it all out, this would only get messier. I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “I want to break up.” His gaze shot towards me, so sharp it felt like it could physically pierce my skin. He rested his arms on the table, his eyes locked on mine, and a chilling aura radiated from him. “Why?” The word was quiet, almost lifeless, as if he wasn’t asking a question so much as daring me to confirm his worst fears. I had never felt this kind of pressure from him before. Deciding to just rip the Band-Aid off, I let everything I’d been holding back spill out. “Because we don’t fit. We’re from different worlds.” “I don’t have big ambitions, Julian. I just want a comfortable, peaceful life. Eat good food, sleep well.” “I don’t want to be picked apart by your family because I don’t come from money.” “And I don’t want to spend my life navigating the complicated social politics of your world.” “If I marry you, all of that is inevitable.” “So, the truth is… I never, ever planned on building a future with you.” As I spoke, my voice got quieter. I suddenly realized that compared to him, I was the cruel one. He was meticulously planning a future for us, and I was meticulously calculating my escape route. It was as if we were on a battlefield together; he was ready to fight to the death for me, while I had already packed my bags, ready to desert without a second glance. “I’ve said everything I need to say,” I mumbled, scrambling to my feet, desperate to escape. “I’m leaving. You take care.” I turned to go. A hand clamped down on my arm. It felt like a vice, refusing to let go. My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked back. Julian was still sitting, looking up at me. He, the proudest man I knew, looked like he’d been caught in a freezing rain, a coldness radiating from him that chilled me to the bone. He asked, his voice raw, “If you never saw a future with me, why did you give yourself to me?” My breath hitched. I yanked my arm free and forced a casual tone. “I can’t believe you’re actually hung up on that. It wasn’t a big deal to me.” He recoiled as if I’d stung him, his eyes shattering into a million pieces. Then, he pulled his lips into a bitter, self-deprecating smile and stood up. His tall frame instantly cast a shadow over me. He stood straight, too proud to bend, just lowering his gaze to look down at me. “Summer Hayes, you better pray we never cross paths again. Because if we do, I don’t know what I’ll do.” My face was a mask of indifference, but my palms were slick with sweat. A wave of regret washed over me. I never should have gotten involved with him. That day, I fled from the restaurant and didn’t look back. I ran all the way back to Charlotte. From then on, even when I traveled, I deliberately avoided New York City. I thought I would never see Julian Ford again. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans… 4 My cousin Chloe was marrying into money, and she invited me to her wedding. It was being held in New York City. As soon as I heard the location, I politely declined. But then, the groom’s family reviewed the guest list from Chloe’s side and circled a single name: mine. Apparently, I was the only one deemed “acceptable” enough to attend. In other words, Chloe’s own parents weren’t allowed at her wedding. The only people from her side would be me and a few bridesmaids. My aunt, Chloe’s mom, came to my house personally to beg me. She wanted me, as the sole family representative, to be there to “have Chloe’s back.” I was forced to accept the absurd responsibility. We were put up in a luxury hotel. The wedding was the next day. The night before, some girl added Chloe on social media and sent her a dozen photos of herself getting cozy with the groom-to-be, along with a video. A “Bachelor’s Last Hurrah” party was in full swing at a villa about twenty miles from our hotel. The video showed the girl and Chloe’s fiancé in a full-on, passionate kiss. Chloe calmly shut off her phone and turned to me and the six other bridesmaids. “Alright, ladies,” she said, “Let’s go crash a party.” I never thought I would see Julian again. New York is a huge city. The odds had to be infinitesimal. My first time back in four years, and I’d just happen to run into him? But the universe has a twisted sense of humor. Chloe was there to make a statement. She marched right up to the girl from the video and slapped her, hard. The girl, indignant, looked to the groom, Kyle Holt, for support, only to find him watching with an amused grin, making no move to defend her. What the girl didn’t know was that Chloe and Kyle had an arrangement. He could fool around all he wanted, and Chloe would turn a blind eye, on one condition: if any of his flings ever got bold enough to challenge her directly, he was not to interfere when she put them in their place. The girl had drastically overestimated her importance. Chloe grabbed her by the hair and literally threw her out of the party. Kyle, as if nothing had happened, shut the door behind her, then casually wrapped an arm around Chloe’s waist. “Don’t be rude,” he said cheerfully. “Since you’re here, you should go say hi to Julian.” Chloe, who had just been in a brawl, her collar askew and her hair a mess, calmly straightened her clothes. “Okay,” she said. “Let me just fix myself up, and I’ll be right over.” Kyle left her and headed over to a table where a group of impossibly good-looking people were sitting, looking far more civilized than the rowdy crowd by the pool. Chloe glanced in their direction, then motioned for the bridesmaids to huddle close. “See that table?” she whispered. “Any of those guys are fair game, except for the one in the middle.” Curious, I followed her gaze to the man in the middle. My breath caught in my throat. It took me a long moment to look away. I saw him. He hadn’t seen me. It was Julian. Four years older, Julian was different. The last traces of boyish youth were gone, replaced by a deep, steady intensity in his eyes. He carried himself with an air of quiet, formidable authority. One of the bridesmaids, a stunning girl named Isabelle, had her eyes fixed on him. “Why not him?” she asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Chloe tugged on her arm, her tone uncharacteristically serious. “He is way out of our league. Don’t even think about it, unless you want to get seriously burned.” Isabelle, who had a proud streak, just gave a soft “Oh,” as if she was taking the advice. 5 I told Chloe I wasn’t good at socializing and would sit this one out. “Are you insane?” she said, dragging me forward. “You’re gorgeous! You need to be meeting guys like this!” She was like a bulldozer. Fearing she’d make a scene, I gave in and followed her to the table. Chloe greeted Julian respectfully, calling him by a nickname I’d never heard. “Julian, hi!” Julian was as polite and charming as ever, but… something was different. There was a new layer of distance to him, a polite wall that made him seem friendly but utterly unapproachable. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” Chloe said, flashing a brilliant smile. “I would have brought my girls over sooner.” Isabelle seized the opening. “It’s so nice to meet you, Julian,” she said, mirroring Chloe’s greeting with a flirty tone. Julian glanced at her, his own smile faint and noncommittal. Another guy at the table smoothly intervened. “Not many people get to call him Julian. You should probably stick with Mr. Ford, like the rest of us.” Isabelle playfully stuck out her tongue. “My apologies, Mr. Ford.” She handled the awkward moment with impressive grace. I was silently applauding her social skills when Chloe suddenly announced, “And Julian, this is my cousin, Summer Hayes.” She stepped aside, leaving me completely exposed. The world seemed to brighten as several pairs of eyes landed on me. The one pair, straight ahead, was the sharpest. The moment his gaze hit me, I felt a physical force, a wave of sheer intensity. I knew I couldn’t escape. I slowly lifted my head and met his eyes, looking at that face that was so familiar and yet so strange. My hand clenched into a fist. Forcing a calm I didn’t feel, I smiled. “Mr. Ford. It’s nice to see you again.” Julian’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line. He just stared at me, saying nothing, his expression cold and unreadable. The atmosphere wasn’t terrible, on the surface. We were both masters of disguise. No one could have guessed the history simmering between us. Chloe continued introducing her friends, and the bridesmaids tried to mingle. Julian’s friends were all friendly enough, and the conversation flowed easily. Until Julian suddenly spoke. “Summer Hayes.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the chatter and silenced the entire table. My heart gave a painful thud, and my eyes snapped to his. He was still seated, looking up at me, his face impassive. Four words left his lips, slow and deliberate. “Long time no see.” A deafening silence fell over the table. After what felt like an eternity, Chloe found her voice, her tone filled with shock. “Wait, Summer… you and Mr. Ford… you know each other?” And there it was. The question, hanging in the air for everyone to hear. I was speechless. After a moment of careful consideration, I gave my answer. “We were classmates.” Julian, who had been watching me intently, flinched almost imperceptibly at my words. He rose from the sofa and walked towards me. He moved slowly, but with a heavy, oppressive energy, like a storm cloud gathering thunder. He stopped right in front of me and asked, his voice laced with a bitter self-mockery, “So, I don’t even qualify as an ex-boyfriend?”

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