After Dia broke up with me for the umpteenth time, I didn’t need her to tell me what to do. I packed my things, moved out, and quietly cut ties with our past. Day one: I canceled the wedding planner we’d booked three years ago but kept putting off. Day two: I shut off the automatic payments for her mother’s medical treatments and turned down her sister’s request for cash. Day three: I accepted my boss’s transfer offer, ready to start a new life in a city down south. As the plane took off, a strange curiosity hit me. Without me, her free, round-the-clock caregiver for the last decade… Without me, her personal ATM, always on call… How would Dia possibly manage? How would she take care of her paralyzed mother, satisfy her materialistic sister, and dote on that precious junior colleague she adored so much? 1 “Mr. Hayes, as per the contract, canceling the wedding plan will result in a forfeiture of twenty percent of the deposit. If you agree, please sign here.” The coordinator confirmed with me one last time, then handed over the contract and a pen, guiding me to the signature line. She was young, and I could see the gossip sparkling in her eyes. She looked like she was bursting with questions. I couldn’t blame her. A wedding booked three years ago. Two finalized plans, even a rehearsal, all leading to nothing. And now, instead of a wedding, a cancellation. Anyone would be curious. But they didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t know that my journey from eagerly anticipating marrying the woman I’d loved for ten years to deciding to call it all off had taken a single night. And the thing that finally made up my mind? A building block set hidden on the top shelf of Dia’s bookcase. During my end-of-the-month cleaning, I accidentally bumped the shelf. The heavy wooden planks and the surprisingly weighty blocks came crashing down, leaving me dizzy and seeing stars. The loud crash brought Dia running. She burst into the study, but her first instinct wasn’t to check if I was okay or help me up. Instead, her eyes fell on the scattered pieces on the floor, and an unusual rage contorted her face. “Alex Hayes, just because you didn’t like your birthday present doesn’t give you the right to destroy my things!” Before I could even explain, she was screaming at me to get out of her house. I stood outside her door all night, apologizing over and over, until the building’s security guard told me I was disturbing the neighbors and made me leave. I ordered a replacement for the set online and, like so many times before, wrote a thousand-word apology letter to her. I never got a reply. Instead, I saw her on another man’s social media feed. Dia’s junior colleague, a guy named Josh, had posted a nine-photo collage of a lively hotpot dinner. Right in the center was a picture that didn’t fit: a magnificent, intricate castle made of building blocks. The caption read: Thanks to my amazing senior, Dia, for staying up all night to build this Hogwarts castle for me! It’s the best publication gift ever. Hot take: Harry Potter is the ultimate childhood memory, haha! A minute after he posted, Dia’s comment appeared. Glad you like it. Josh replied just as quickly. Thank you so much! I only mentioned it once, I can’t believe you remembered. I’m so happy! Their back-and-forth was just a couple of simple comments, but reading them felt like having lemon juice squeezed into my eyes. The sting was unbearable. Last month was my thirty-third birthday. I had dropped hints, hoping for a nice watch. Dia had looked at me with a mix of surprise and scorn. “You’re a grown man trying to act like a trendy young guy. Those boys wear watches to look cool. You’ve been with me for ten years. Who are you trying to impress?” Her words were brutally honest, and they hurt. But on my birthday, she still gave me a watch. It was a cheap, no-name brand, probably worth a couple hundred bucks at most. But I was happy. I thought it meant she cared. I never imagined. Her junior colleague mentions something he likes offhandedly, and she commits it to memory. A fifteen-hundred-dollar building block set? She buys it without a second thought. That kind of special treatment… I, her actual partner of ten years, had never experienced it. This decade had been nothing but a dream I’d woven for myself. Now, it was time to wake up. 2 I had barely left the wedding planner’s office when a message from Dia popped up on my phone. Wendy’s train gets in at 8:30 tonight. Be there early. This was the first time she had contacted me since our fight. Normally, seeing this small olive branch, I would have scrambled to take it, then rushed to the station to pick up her sister. But this time, I just stared at the message for two seconds, then drove away. When I got back to their apartment that evening, shoes and a suitcase were strewn haphazardly across the floor. Wendy poked her head out of the bathroom and rolled her eyes at me. “Where the hell have you been, Alex? Do you know how long I waited at the station? I had to take a cab! If anything had happened to me, my sister would have skinned you alive.” She sniffed. “I’m hungry. Order me some takeout. Now.” I looked at her calmly. My eyes drifted down to her feet, shod in the thousand-dollar sneakers I’d bought her as a college acceptance gift. Her clothes were all brand-name, easily costing hundreds. Her outfit wasn’t extravagant, but it was far nicer than anything I usually wore. I had treated her like my own sister. In return, I never got so much as a kind word. When I bought her things, she’d coo “brother-in-law.” When I didn’t, it was a curt “Alex Hayes.” And I had put up with this for ten years. Right in front of her, I pulled out my phone and texted Dia. Your sister says she has no money for food. I’ve let you know. If you don’t mind her waiting, she can. You’re in a different time zone, after all. Wendy’s jaw dropped. I didn’t say another word and went into the master bedroom. The next morning, I was woken by a series of loud crashes from outside. Wendy had turned the kitchen and living room into a disaster zone. Water was flooding out of the bathroom, making the tiled floor a slippery mess. When she saw me, she showed no remorse. Instead, she defiantly flicked soap bubbles onto the floor. I watched her silently. I didn’t stop her. Nor did I, like the old me would have, grab a mop and clean up after her. I just went back to my room and packed the rest of my belongings. It was almost funny. This wasn’t my house. Why should I be the one in a hurry? Once I was packed, I walked out with my suitcase. “Where are you going?!” Wendy blocked my path. “Business trip,” I lied. “Half a month. Just grabbing some things from the office.” She pursed her lips, crossing her arms with an arrogant air. “Some people go abroad for academic exchanges, true intellectuals. Others are just corporate drones pulling all-nighters. You know what that’s called? A pathetic life.” She held out her hand. “I’m meeting some friends this afternoon. Transfer me some money, or I’ll tell my sister you’re abusing me.” She was so sure of herself, so certain I was still wrapped around her little finger. It was laughable. I had been Dia’s doormat for ten years. For her, I’d even been her family’s doormat for ten years. Now that I was done, they were the ones throwing a fit. I burst out laughing. I pointed at her, looking her up and down. “I pay for your mother’s medical care. I paid for your sister’s tuition. I’m paying for your college. Your entire family lives off me. Even the clothes on your back, I bought them.” “Next time you decide to run your mouth, maybe you should consider whether you can afford to pay me back first.” Wendy’s face turned bright red. She was speechless. She spun around, ran back to her room, and slammed the door. After settling into my new place, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a payment reminder for Dia’s mother’s medical bills. The hospital informed me the payment was due in five days and reminded me to ensure sufficient funds were in the account. When Dia and I first got together, I couldn’t bear to see her juggling work, school, and caring for her paralyzed mother and young sister. So, I offered to help. I thought if I treated people with sincerity, I would get the same in return. I just never expected to be dealing with a family of vipers. With that thought, I didn’t hesitate. I cancelled the automatic payment and unlinked my card. I was done being the fool. Let someone else play that part. 3 Late that night, the international call I was expecting from Dia came through. The second I answered, her angry voice shot through the phone like a bullet. “Wendy told me you didn’t pick her up! She had to take a cab home by herself, and then you wouldn’t even make her dinner! She wanted to order takeout, and you complained about the cost?” “Alex Hayes, is this how you treat my sister when I’m not around? If you don’t change your attitude, I’m going to have to seriously reconsider our relationship!” “Okay,” I said. “When you get back, we’ll meet up and sort things out.” My unexpectedly calm reaction seemed to throw her off. She was silent for a moment. “Sort what out? Is this about that stupid wedding plan again? You should focus on improving yourself instead of constantly nagging me about getting married. It’s so annoying. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. If you want to convince me of anything, we’ll see how you behave.” Her tone softened, but the dismissiveness was palpable. She had probably forgotten. In our first year together, she was the one who swore she would give me the grandest wedding the day she earned her PhD. I waited seven years for that day. When it finally came, I was the one excitedly comparing wedding planning companies. The first year, I presented her with a carefully selected proposal. She looked at me with a hint of guilt and said her studies were too demanding, she didn’t have the energy for a wedding. The second year, she finally finished the busiest part of her program and even agreed to try on wedding dresses with me. I waited for her for 24 hours in my tuxedo, only to get a text saying she’d overslept. The third year, I canceled the wedding planner. I took a deep breath. “Dia, it’s not about the wedding…” Before I could finish, I heard a boy’s exclamation on her end of the line. Dia hung up without another word. I stared at my phone, but I didn’t call back. The day of Dia’s return arrived quickly. She texted, telling me to pick her up from the airport. I ignored it. Then she called, saying it was the only day she’d be free. The next day, she had to be back at the lab and would be busy for the foreseeable future. To avoid any further complications, I went. Traffic was bad. I didn’t get there until eleven at night. The airport was brightly lit. Through the terminal glass, I saw Josh with his forehead resting on Dia’s shoulder, swaying back and forth like a child seeking comfort. I honked the horn, hard. The two lovebirds jumped apart like startled birds. Dia saw my face and stormed over, slapping the car window. “I told you to be here at seven! Look at the time!” I rolled the window down a crack and saw her face, pale from the cold. “There was traffic.” She was about to launch into another tirade, but I cut her off. “If you don’t get in the car, your precious junior is going to freeze to death.” That stopped her. Forgetting her anger, she quickly opened the back door and ushered Josh in. Then she looked at me, her eyes silently ordering me to get out and help with the luggage. I ignored her, pretending to be busy texting a colleague. Inside the car, Josh studied me through the rearview mirror. I met his gaze calmly, my eyes landing on the very familiar scarf wrapped around his neck. It was Dia’s. She wore it all the time in the winter. Last Christmas, she had finally agreed to see a movie with me. When we came out, I was shivering from the cold. I saw a guy next to us wrap his scarf around his girlfriend, telling her not to take it off. Envious, I nudged Dia, hinting. She just frowned. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t like sharing my scarf with people.” But now, her scarf was wrapped snugly around Josh’s neck. So, it wasn’t that she didn’t like sharing. She just didn’t like sharing with me. Josh noticed my stare and gave a sheepish smile. “It was really cold while we were waiting,” he said softly. “Dia let me wear it. Don’t get the wrong idea, Alex.” I smiled back. “It’s just a scarf. But really, Dia, you should know better. It’s freezing out. You should have just gotten a cab for him instead of making him wait for me. What’s the point of saving a few bucks on a fare if he gets sick? The doctor’s bills would cost more, right, Josh?” The smile on Josh’s face vanished. 4 The roads were empty this late at night, and I drove fast. As Dia had instructed, I dropped Josh off first. Soon, it was just the two of us in the car. I glanced over at her. “Let’s talk.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, her voice laced with irritation. “Does it have to be right now? I just got off a ten-hour flight. Can’t you let me rest?” Unlike before, I didn’t show any sympathy. “No,” I said flatly. “Some things are better sorted out now.” She scoffed. “What is there to talk about? It’s the same old thing, isn’t it? Marriage…” Her sarcastic remark was cut off by her ringing phone. She answered, and her expression changed instantly. “Okay, stay put! I’m coming!” She hung up and immediately tried to get out of the car. “We’re not done here,” I said, stopping her. She looked at me in disbelief, as if I were some kind of monster. “Josh fell in the bathroom! This is a life-or-death situation, I have to go check on him!” I let out a breath. “If he fell, he should call a doctor. By the time you get there, if it’s serious, a broken bone or something, do you really think you’ll be more help than a professional…” “Enough!” she roared. “You’re just jealous, aren’t you? You’re just afraid I’m going to leave you! Fine! You want to hear it? We’re breaking up! I, Dia Vance, am done with you! Is that clear enough?!” With that, she turned and ran toward the entrance of a nearby apartment complex. I watched her go, mouthing a single, silent word. “Yes.” Perhaps it was a case of misfortune in love, fortune in career. Two days later, my boss called. I was being recommended for a position at a new branch to develop a new market. It was a significant promotion with a substantial pay raise. I accepted without a second thought and booked a flight for the next day. That evening, some colleagues threw me a farewell party at a well-known local restaurant. As we walked in, I saw Dia disappearing into a private room nearby. I looked away, treating her like a stranger. Later, on my way to the restroom, I overheard her voice coming from that same room, loud and clear. “Marriage? When did I ever say I wanted to get married?” “I have a successful career and a bright future. Do you really think I’d settle for a man with no looks, no education, and no money?” Someone else chimed in, stirring the pot. “But Dia, you’ve been with him for ten years. If you break up with him, won’t he make a scene?” Dia was quiet for a moment, then laughed. “That’s easy. I’ll just string him along. He’s already in his thirties, completely wrapped around my finger. I can make him do whatever I want.” “Like for his birthday this year. He was begging me for a watch. I tore into him, and he didn’t dare say a word. But I still got him one. A cheap, twenty-five-dollar knockoff from some sketchy website. And you know what? He treasures it like it’s gold. Hahaha.” The room erupted in laughter. The fragile peace I had found was shattered. The old wounds were ripped open, and the pain was fresh and raw. I clenched my fists and walked away. After the party, I contacted a colleague whose family had a law firm. I handed over ten years’ worth of financial records. The lawyer took one look, raised an eyebrow, and assured me he’d get every penny back. The next morning, I was on a plane to a new city. When I landed and turned on my phone, there was a call from Dia. Her voice was more frantic than I had ever heard it. “Alex, what is wrong with you? You forgot to pay my mother’s medical bills! How could you forget something so important? You nearly killed her!” “And you haven’t been to see her at all this week, have you? What kind of son-in-law are you? I’m giving you one more chance. You have three minutes to transfer the money. Otherwise, we are done!” Listening to her shrill voice, all I wanted to do was laugh. It was her mother lying in that hospital bed. If she truly cared, she wouldn’t need me to remind her. If she were such a dutiful daughter, she would have paid the bill herself long ago. I flagged down a taxi and took one last look at her name on my screen. “Then, as you wish. We’re done.”

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Everyone in Port Sterling envied me—the crippled girl Hank Devereaux, the city’s most powerful man, had cherished for ten years. What they didn’t know: at sixteen, when enemies shattered my legs bone by bone, I never revealed Hank’s location. A year later, Hank slaughtered that family. Amid the bloodshed, he covered my eyes and swore to protect me forever. Doctors said I’d never walk. So Hank broke his own legs to learn to walk again with me, step by painful step. He knelt in a chapel for three years to persuade a family of healers to treat me. Years passed. I stayed in my wheelchair. But Hank grew tired of me, obsessed with videos of a graceful ballerina. The night she became prima, he locked himself away. That evening, he took me to Crown Point overlooking the city’s skyline. As I reached to hug him, a text flashed: [Wake up! He’s going to push you off the cliff!] I smiled at the starlit sky and whispered, “Finally… a release for us both.” … Hank’s hand on my shoulder trembled. His breathing grew slower, heavier. I greedily placed my hand over his, wanting one last touch. In the next life, let’s not meet again. The mountain wind whipped around us, but the fall I expected never came. Instead, I was pulled back, away from the edge. “Clara,” he began, his voice choked, the words catching in his throat. I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “What is it? Push me a little closer. I really want to see the city lights from the very edge.” The words in my head flashed frantically. [I knew it! He’s too soft. For ten years, he couldn’t stand you being out of his sight for even five minutes.] [So what? He’s going to marry Isabelle Thorne. Clara would rather die than be the other woman.] So, he was getting married. My heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand tiny, relentless needles. He had never once mentioned her to me. He’d been so careful. Was he afraid I, the stain he couldn’t wash away, would throw a fit and ruin Isabelle’s pristine white tutu? Hank pressed a backpack into my lap. The zipper was open, revealing a stash of my favorite pastries, the stuffed rabbit I couldn’t sleep without, and the silver charm he’d gotten for me on my birthday, blessed for my protection. He gently smoothed my wind-tangled hair. “Clara, be good,” he murmured. “I left some of the camping gear in the car. Wait for me here, okay?” The text in my mind blared. [He can’t do it himself. He’s going to abandon her in the mountains to die alone.] [Play the victim! Cry! The second you shed a tear, he’ll fold.] My eyes fixed on the scar that wrapped around his wrist. It was from a time my wheelchair had careened out of control down a steep slope. Hank had thrown himself in front of it, his wrist getting horribly tangled in the wheels. The doctor said if the cut had been any deeper, he would have lost the use of his hand. Ten years, Hank. You must be so tired. I tilted my head and smiled softly. “Okay.” Hank stared at me for a long moment, his dark eyes clouded with a strange mist. Then, as if steeling himself, he turned and walked away without a single backward glance. Only when his silhouette vanished into the vast darkness did I turn my wheelchair in the opposite direction, my heart aching with a quiet loneliness. Closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. Click. A wheel jammed against a rock, refusing to budge no matter how hard I pushed. In a surge of desperation, I lunged forward, tumbling from the chair and crashing onto the hard ground. Flashes of Hank’s worried face filled my mind. “Clara, are you hurt? Does it hurt anywhere? Let me help you up. This is all my fault. I should have been watching you.” But this time, there was no one. My palms scraped against the sharp, gritty gravel as I tried to crawl forward. The path was too steep, my body too weak from years of confinement to the chair. I didn’t have the strength. Time stretched on, my consciousness fraying at the edges. I couldn’t even manage to die. Clara, you really are useless. When I woke again, the faint, sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. The hospital room door was slightly ajar, and I could hear a woman’s muffled sobs. “Why did you bring that cripple back?” “You promised me! You promised we would get married after I became prima ballerina. We were supposed to start a new life, just the two of us!” Through the window in the door, I saw a profile that looked hauntingly familiar. I stared, my mind reeling. When we were children, Hank loved sneaking me into the theater to watch the ballet. I would try to imitate the beautiful dancers, lifting the hem of my skirt and spinning in endless circles. “Am I pretty, Hank?” He’d be holding my school bag, nodding eagerly, giggling his silly, infectious laugh right along with me. After my legs were broken, I never smiled at him like that again. A long moment passed before I heard Hank’s trembling voice. “Clara saved my life.” “Ten years ago, the Donovans held her captive for a month. They did… things to her. But she never told them where I was.” Isabelle’s voice was laced with sorrow. “Then what about me? What am I supposed to do?” After a heavy silence, Hank spoke, his voice cracking. “Isabelle… there are days I wish she had died in their hands back then. But I… I can’t abandon her. I just can’t.” Isabelle sounded desperate. “Even if you don’t care about me, think about yourself! For years, you’ve watched over her day and night, never leaving her side. The slightest noise wakes you. The doctors said your heart failure is getting worse, but you won’t get the transplant because you’re terrified you won’t wake up, terrified there’ll be no one to take care of that… cripple.” A loud thud echoed as Hank slammed his fist against the wall, his voice raw with agony. “Don’t say anymore.” “If I die, it’ll be a release. For me… and for her.” No. I don’t want Hank to die. I struggled to pull the IV from my arm, accidentally knocking a glass vial off the bedside table. It shattered on the floor. The door flew open. Hank rushed in, with Isabelle following close behind, her eyes burning with resentment. The text in my mind exploded. [Oh my god! Isabelle is the illegitimate daughter of the Donovan family, the one who escaped!] [When the Donovans came for revenge, they kidnapped Clara to find Hank, and they tortured and killed Hank’s mother to send a message!] [Isabelle had a crush on Hank. She thought he’d been captured by the Donovans and went to that warehouse to ‘save’ him.] Isabelle feigned concern, picking up a piece of gauze to wrap my hand. Her face, it merged with the face of the little girl from ten years ago, the one holding a red-hot branding iron. “I’ll ruin that face of yours. We’ll see if Hank still wants you then.” The searing heat of the brand against my cheek, the sickening tear as it pulled away skin and hope. I recoiled, my whole body trembling uncontrollably. “Get away! Don’t touch me! Get away!” I screamed, shoving her with all my might. Isabelle stumbled backward. Hank caught her, pulling her into his arms. And in that instant, he broke. “Clara, have you had enough of this madness?!” he roared. “For years, anyone who tries to help you, you accuse them of being a Donovan! It’s been so long! Why aren’t you better? Why do you keep hurting innocent people?” “Am I supposed to be trapped in this hell with you for my entire life?!” After I was rescued, I was plagued by nightmares. Anyone who came near me was met with frantic scratching and biting. Hank would hold me, his arms covered in my nail marks, and soothe me over and over. It’s okay, Clara. I’m here. You’re safe. But now, it was as if a fuse had been lit. He was a cornered animal, smashing everything in the room he could get his hands on. I covered my ears, shaking my head and sobbing. No. This time it’s real. Isabelle is a Donovan. She’s the daughter of the man who killed your mother! The thought screamed in my mind, and I shouted it out loud. Isabelle’s face went pale, and she instinctively shrank away. Hank’s hand froze in mid-air. His dark eyes locked onto mine. Then, a bitter, broken laugh escaped his lips. He let his arm fall, his voice dead and calm. “I guess I’ve spoiled you too much. I was so afraid of upsetting you that I kept you from the outside world, and it’s only made you more delusional.” “Isabelle and I are getting married tomorrow.” “If you want, you can continue to live at the estate. We’ll both take care of you.” “If you don’t… then you’re on your own.” He took Isabelle’s hand and turned to leave. Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone. Why won’t you believe me? I fell from the bed, clawing my way out of the room, leaving a smear of blood on the polished floor. Everyone stared. A small child saw the jagged scar on my face and burst into tears. “Mommy, kick that dirty thing away!” “How can someone be so disgusting? Let’s go, let’s go, don’t want to catch her bad luck.” “Look at her legs… those pits and scars. It’s making my skin crawl.” Hank’s steps faltered. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. Isabelle whispered something to him, and he nodded. He didn’t look back at me again. I curled up in a ball on the hospital corridor floor, sobbing until I nearly passed out before Devereaux family staff came to take me home. In the car, the assistant and driver muttered to each other. “I don’t know how much longer the boss can put up with this burden.” “That Sterling project… the whole company, seven hundred people, worked on it for over two years. But the boss was so distracted by this damn cripple in the hospital that he offended the clients. It’s probably a lost cause now.” “If it weren’t for her, Devereaux Industries would have expanded overseas years ago instead of being stuck in Port Sterling.” My chest felt tight, but I couldn’t form a single word of rebuttal. I let the maids roughly deposit me in my bedroom. In the dead of night, I was roused by a searing heat on my face. The nerves there were mostly dead from the old burn, and by the time I jolted awake, hot wax had already hardened on my cheek. Isabelle stood over me, holding a candle. She was drunk, her eyes gleaming with a crazed light. “Clara. I can’t believe you recognized me.” “But so what? Even the Donovans’ matriarch didn’t know about me, her husband’s bastard daughter. There’s no way Hank could ever find out. Besides,” she smirked, “he already killed all the Donovans for you.” She thrust the candle towards my face, and I screamed. “Fire! Fire! Get it away! Get it away from me!” Isabelle let out a wild laugh. “I’ll give you two choices. A quick death in the flames, or you can wait until I’m the lady of this house and let me torture you bit by bit, just like the old days.” She tossed the candle onto the curtains, and the flames roared to life. Triumphant, Isabelle turned to leave, but I grabbed her wrist with a death grip, pulling her down with me. Then let’s die together. If I die, Hank will finally be free of his burden. And he’ll never have to know he fell in love with his enemy’s daughter. He can be happy for the rest of his life. The fire raged, growing larger. Isabelle screamed for help, unable to break my grip. Hank burst in, yelling my name. He instinctively moved to pull me from the floor, pushing Isabelle aside. “Hank!” Isabelle cried, her voice thick with false tears. “I heard Clara having a nightmare and came to comfort her. But she just went crazy, calling me a Donovan, and she pushed me and set the fire…” She showed him her ankle, already swelling from the fall. The warmth in Hank’s eyes turned to ice. He let go of me and scooped Isabelle into his arms, carrying her out of the inferno. The staff scrambled to drag me out after them. I tried desperately to explain. Hank shoved me away, his face contorted with fury. “Clara, you are completely unhinged,” he spat. “You used to love dancing more than anyone. You know the pain of not being able to. Why would you pretend to be insane and try to destroy Isabelle’s future?” “Does my entire life have to revolve around you for you to be satisfied?!” His eyes were bloodshot and vicious. “Ten years! I don’t owe you anything anymore! I never want to see you again.” “It’s not like that, Hank! Isabelle, she really is—” “Enough!” The sharp crack of a slap echoed in the room, my head snapping to the side. Hank stared at his own hand in shock, his usually proud posture slightly stooped. “Take her away,” he said, his voice utterly exhausted. They injected me with a sedative and drove me to the old Devereaux family estate. A dozen servants guarded the house like a fortress, ensuring I couldn’t ruin Hank’s wedding.

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My sister had a habit of taking everything that was mine. So when I brought my boyfriend home, a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I caught them together at our engagement party, tangled in a passionate embrace. A double betrayal, from my lover and my own blood. Everyone waited for me to shatter. But standing outside that door, I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. No one knew that this was all part of my meticulous plan. From this moment on, her fiancé, Kyle Hayward, was mine for the taking. 1 My parents struggled to conceive, so they adopted Cici from an orphanage. Six months after she came to live with us, my mother became pregnant with me. Everyone said Cici was our family’s lucky star, that her arrival brought the good fortune that led to my birth. And so, I was taught I had to thank my sister. Cici, who should have been the sole focus of their affection, suddenly had to share their love with me, and she couldn’t accept it. My parents, driven by a mixture of gratitude and guilt, taught me from a young age that I had to give in to my sister in everything. From childhood to now. From the smallest snacks to the warmth of our parents’ attention. Whatever she wanted, I had to surrender it without question. Today was Cici’s twenty-fifth birthday. My mother woke at dawn, heading to the market with our housekeeper to buy all of Cici’s favorite foods, determined to cook her a feast. When I got home, Mom was buzzing with excitement in the kitchen while Dad meticulously arranged a birthday surprise in the dining room. The scene made my chest ache. It was a familiar sight, one that played out every year, but never for me. It was because on my sixth birthday, Cici, in a fit of rage, had smashed my cake to the floor, screaming that because of me, Mom and Dad didn’t love her anymore. She threw a tantrum that shook the house, declaring that if I was here, she wouldn’t be. To appease her, from that day on, my birthday was never celebrated again. Because, as my mother told me, a peaceful home was everything. I had to be the sensible one. I had to let my sister have her way. Half an hour later, Cici swept in, laden with shopping bags. Mom immediately rushed to her, covering her eyes and leading her to the dining table. Dad smoothly pushed the cake in front of her. “Happy birthday, sweetheart! Make a wish and blow out the candles! Your father and I have a huge gift for you!” Cici dutifully blew out the candles, then wrapped her arms around Mom. “Mom, what did you and Dad get me? I’m dying to know!” “You’re just as impatient as you were when you were little,” Mom said, tapping her forehead affectionately. She then produced a stack of documents from behind her back. “This is a share transfer agreement. Your father and I have decided to give you ten percent of Sterling Corp.” “Mom!” Cici gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “You’re a grown woman now,” Dad added. “It’s time you came into the company and learned the ropes. Sterling Corp will be yours one day, after all.” My hand, holding a fork, began to tremble. Cici and I had walked two completely different paths. Her grades were always mediocre; her passions were fashion, parties, and travel. My parents paid a fortune to send her abroad to study art, where she barely scraped by with a degree. I, on the other hand, knew from a young age they didn’t value me. To secure my place in this family, I knew I had to gain control of the company. So I studied relentlessly, earning a place at a top-tier university for business management. I was then accepted into Yale for my master’s. I thought… I thought that after all my hard work, they would entrust the company to me. A clatter broke the silence as my fork slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. 2 Three pairs of eyes snapped towards me. I composed myself, stood up, and met my father’s gaze. “Mom, Dad… what about me?” They seemed stunned that their quiet, obedient daughter would choose this moment to speak up. An awkward silence hung in the air before my mother finally walked over to me. “Claire, you’re still young. Just focus on your studies. Your sister and father will handle the company. You just worry about school.” Her meaning was crystal clear. Years of tireless effort had just become a punchline. A bitter smile touched my lips. I pushed past her and went upstairs to my room. The unfairness of it all washed over me, and I buried my face in my pillow and sobbed. Twenty-two years, and I still felt like an outsider in my own home. Why did I always have to be the one to back down for Cici’s sake? Why did no one ever care about my feelings? Did the quiet child in the family just deserve to be treated unfairly? I cried myself to sleep. When I woke, it was the middle of the night. Thirsty, I took my glass to the kitchen for water. As I passed my parents’ room, I heard my mother’s voice. “The Hayward heir is back in the country. He’s supposed to be at the gala tomorrow. Mrs. Hayward told me to bring the girls.” My heart skipped a beat. The Hayward heir? Kyle Hayward? He was a senior when I was in high school, a legend everyone knew. Handsome, brilliant, with a legion of admirers, yet completely untouched by scandal. Last year, outside the university gates, my bag was open and a thief snatched my wallet. He happened to be walking by and, without a second thought, chased the thief down and got it back for me. That’s when I learned we were both at Yale. And that was the day a heart I’d long kept guarded began to beat again. The next morning, I woke unusually early and took great care with my appearance. I had decided that after a lifetime of giving in, this time, I was going to fight for what I wanted. When I came downstairs, Mom was already at the breakfast table. Surprise flickered in her eyes when she saw me. “Claire, come eat,” she said, gesturing to a chair. I nodded and sat down. We ate in a mutually agreed-upon silence, the previous day’s events left unspoken. Halfway through the meal, I gathered my courage. “Mom, are you going to the Hayward’s gala today?” She paused, looking at me with a hint of confusion. “Yes, I am.” I clenched my fists under the table. “Could I possibly…” “Mom, I’m ready. Let’s go.” Cici descended the stairs, dressed in an exquisite evening gown. I froze. My mother stood, grabbing her purse. “I’m taking Cici to the gala today. The driver is waiting, so we’ll be off.” Without another glance at me, she took Cici’s arm and walked out the door. I remained rooted to the spot, feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My stomach churned. I looked down at my own carefully chosen dress. Claire Sterling, you’re a fool. My phone buzzed. A reminder for a dental appointment I’d scheduled. My wisdom tooth was acting up, and a friend had recommended her dentist. He was supposedly impossible to book, but somehow, I’d gotten an appointment on my first try. 3 By the time I returned from the dentist, my mother and Cici were already home. The moment I walked in, Mom grabbed my arm excitedly, pointing at a necklace around Cici’s neck. “Claire, look! Isn’t your sister’s necklace beautiful?” It was a stunning piece. Even I, with no knowledge of jewelry, could tell it was incredibly expensive. “It’s beautiful,” I said, nodding numbly. Cici shot me a smug look. “Of course it is! It’s a gift from Mrs. Hayward!” she gloated. “Mom took me to the gala, and the Haywards just loved me. You know their son, Kyle Hayward? I heard he goes to the same school as you. Do you know him? What’s he like?” At the mention of his name, a jolt of anxiety shot through me. “I don’t know him,” I replied quickly. She smirked. “I figured. I hear he’s very aloof. Not just anyone can get close to him.” She preened. “But Mrs. Hayward adored me, so he agreed to go on a date.” “Cici is so charming, I’m sure Kyle will fall for you,” Mom added enthusiastically. “You have to dress up for your date… I’ll take you shopping tomorrow…” She led Cici to the sofa, and the two of them began planning excitedly, completely forgetting I was there. I stood frozen, my feet feeling as if they were encased in lead. Back in my room, a message popped up on my phone. “Miss Sterling, remember to apply the ice pack as directed.” It was from Leo Vance, the dentist. After meeting him, I understood why he was so popular. Young, single, and devastatingly handsome—it was no wonder people were clamoring for an appointment. “Okay.” “The swelling should be down in three days. You can come in then to have the tooth removed.” “Okay.” “Rest well. See you in three days.” I thought he was supposed to be aloof, I mused. Why is he messaging me so much? I put my phone down and ignored it. Three days later, I went back to the clinic. My appointment was the last of the day, and by the time I was done, it was getting dark. Leo, now in his street clothes, handed me a fresh ice pack. “How are you getting home?” “I’ll get a rideshare,” I said, glancing outside. “My car’s restricted today.” He smiled. “Let me give you a ride.” I was about to refuse when his phone rang. He stepped outside to take the call, returning a minute later with his bag. “Ready?” It felt rude to refuse again, so I followed him to the parking garage. During the drive, he was incredibly thoughtful, giving me aftercare instructions and effortlessly making conversation. In that half-hour drive, he told me about his family and his life. After he pulled up to my house, he turned to me. “Claire,” he asked suddenly, “what do you think of me?” My mind went blank. I was trying to figure out a polite way to turn him down when two familiar figures appeared at the end of my driveway. It was Cici and Kyle. They were standing face-to-face. Cici was talking animatedly, but Kyle seemed unresponsive. Then, Cici stood on her toes and kissed him. It happened so fast. On pure instinct, I threw open the car door and shouted across the lawn, “Cici!” They both turned.

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My sister was targeted by the ruthless syndicate boss Damien Blackwood, but she loved her boyfriend. When Damien came for her, she knocked me out—her identical twin—and sent me in her place before fleeing the country. Forced to marry Damien, I never showed him kindness. He treated me as a substitute, rewarding or punishing me on a whim. Ten years later, my sister returned. She lied to Damien, claiming I had pushed her into a river out of jealousy, causing her to lose her memory. Enraged, Damien threw me into the cellar. During a visit, my sister wrapped an iron chain around my neck. “If you don’t die, my lies will be exposed,” she hissed, strangling me. I reopened my eyes back on the day Damien first noticed my sister. This time, I volunteered: “Victoria, you go. I’ll marry Damien.” This time, I would be the one he cherished. 1 “Mom, Dad, please, save me! I don’t want to marry Damien Blackwood!” My sister Victoria’s sobs were so close they snapped me back to reality. I was alive. I had been reborn. “They say he’s a ruthless killer,” she wailed, “that he’s tortured women to death! If I marry him, it’s a death sentence! Besides, I swore I’d only ever marry Caleb. If I can’t be with him, I’d rather die!” My mother’s voice was thick with tears. “But we can’t afford to cross a man like Damien! If you don’t go, he’ll destroy our whole family!” My father wiped his eyes. “It’s my fault. I’m useless, I can’t even protect my own daughter. Let them kill me instead. If there’s a body, surely they’ll have to back down.” “Are you insane?” my mother shrieked. “This is Damien Blackwood, the head of the Syndicate! What does your life mean to him?” Before Victoria could speak again, I stepped forward. “Victoria,” I said, my voice clear and steady, “you and Caleb go. I’ll marry Damien in your place.” My family stared at me in stunned silence. Victoria’s eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of her head. “We’re identical twins,” I continued calmly. “He’ll never know the difference.” My mother hesitated. “It’s a solution, yes, but Damien is an incredibly powerful man. Can we really fool him forever? What if he finds out? He won’t spare any of us.” But my father had made up his mind. “Victoria, you should go. I’ll give you the fifty thousand dollars I’ve saved up. You and Caleb can go to Australia. The Blackwood family’s reach shouldn’t extend that far.” Not once did they express any concern for me. Their hearts and minds were filled with their precious elder daughter. As for me, the younger one, I had always been expendable. Victoria thought for a long moment. “Mom, Dad… why don’t we stage a funeral? Tell everyone that Ava fell into the river and drowned. That way, it won’t seem so suspicious when our family is suddenly one person short.” Once the plan was settled, they hurriedly packed a small bag for me and put me in the car that had come to collect Damien Blackwood’s bride. 2 In my past life, I had woken up in that car terrified and confused, and my marriage to Damien was poisoned with hostility from the start. Ten years of pure, cold hatred. But setting aside the rumors, Damien was handsome, powerful, and fiercely protective of his own. Marrying him was, without a doubt, a huge step up in the world. The first thing Damien said to me was, “I have only one rule for you: Obey.” I immediately took his hand, my eyes wide and earnest. “My husband, you can count on me. I’ll be the most obedient wife. Tell me to go east, and I’ll never even look west.” Damien paused, taken aback. Then he beckoned his assistant over. “Get my wife everything she needs. The wife of Damien Blackwood will not look so… plain.” And just like that, I was showered with a tidal wave of luxury goods. An entire wall of custom cabinetry was installed just for the diamond watches. During the day, while Damien attended to his business, I would be in the kitchen, creating elaborate meals for him. I personally prepared every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, right down to the dessert. At night, I transformed into a gentle, affectionate kitten, catering to his every need until he was utterly content. Gradually, Damien’s demeanor toward me softened. He began to take me with him to public events. One day, my mother called, telling me my father was gravely ill. When I walked through the door, I found my father sprawled on the sofa, picking his teeth, the clean-picked bones of a pork knuckle on the table in front of him. “Dad? You’re not sick?” “Would you have come back if your mother hadn’t used that excuse?” he grumbled. My mother jabbed a finger into my temple. “You ungrateful child! You’re living the high life at the Blackwood estate while your parents are left to fend for themselves, is that it?” “Mom, Dad, if I recall correctly, the day I married into the Blackwood family, you sent me a text. You said that from that day on, my life was no longer your concern. You told me never to contact you again, no matter what happened. You did say that, didn’t you? I still have the message.” My mother’s eyes blazed. “Have you no heart? We only did that because we were afraid of being a burden to you! And now that you’re comfortable, you’ve forgotten all about your family!” “Hasn’t Damien been sending you money? I know for a fact he gives you a generous allowance every month. And this mansion? He bought it for you! Isn’t that enough? What more do you want?” Her anger flared hotter. “Have you forgotten you have a sister?” “Mother, I suggest you choose your words carefully. I don’t have a sister. I had a younger twin, but she tragically drowned.” “Don’t you play games with me, not in our house! Let me be blunt. Give your sister one million dollars, and we will never bother you again.” “A million dollars? Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” My father shot up, roaring at me. “Damien Blackwood is worth billions! We’re only asking for a million! If you can’t even manage that, then maybe you shouldn’t be Mrs. Blackwood at all!” I let out a cold laugh. “I don’t have the money. And whether I remain Mrs. Blackwood is not for you to decide.” 3 A month after our argument, my mother called me again. “Ava, darling, I was out of line before. I’m so sorry. Are you free this weekend? I’d love to cook for you, have you over for a meal.” It was the first time in the two years since my marriage that my mother had invited me home for dinner. Before I could answer, she started to cry. “Ava, I’m getting old. Your father and I aren’t in the best of health. Every chance we have to see you is precious.” My heart softened. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be there this weekend.” When I arrived, my mother was incredibly warm. She led me inside to a table already laden with all my favorite dishes. I had just sat down when someone emerged from the bedroom. “Victoria? What are you doing back?” My heart began to pound in my chest. According to my past life, Victoria wasn’t supposed to return for another eight years. “Long time no see, little sister.” She sat down next to me, her eyes raking over my clothes. “This whole outfit must be worth a fortune.” She pointed to my bracelet. “And that’s probably worth a small car. Damien really spoils you.” She sighed dramatically. “You’re living the good life. You have no idea how hard these past two years have been for me abroad.” “Victoria, didn’t you say you’d be happy eating scraps as long as you were with Caleb?” “Caleb? There is no Caleb!” she snapped. “Let’s be clear. I’m back to reclaim my identity. From now on, you go back to being Ava, and I will be Victoria again.” “After dinner, you will take off those clothes and that jewelry and give them to me. I’ll go back to the Blackwood estate in your place. We’re swapping back.” Her audacity was so shocking I had to laugh. “You have a lot of nerve. Do you really think that after two years of working my ass off to earn Damien’s favor and secure my position, I would just hand it all over to you?” Victoria slammed her hand on the table. “Damien was supposed to marry me! You’ve been squatting in my place for two years. Do you really intend to keep it forever?” “You were the one who refused to marry him, nearly getting our entire family killed in the process! I sacrificed myself for you! You should be grateful!” “And the fact that I won Damien’s affection and became the lady of the house is due to my own efforts! Do you think you can just waltz back in and take my place?” Victoria shot to her feet. “You have some nerve! I’ve been more than generous letting you enjoy my life for two years! If you don’t switch back with me, I’ll go straight to Damien and expose you! I’ll tell him you pushed me into the river out of jealousy and that’s why I lost my memory! Then we’ll see how you die when he finds out you deceived him!” I stood up calmly. “Go ahead. Let’s see what happens. We can go down together. I have a recording of the conversation where you all begged me to take your place. We can play it for Damien. If we’re going to die, we’ll die as a family.” My mother rushed over and slapped me across the face. “You will switch with your sister today, or I will kill myself right here!” I clutched my stinging cheek, tears welling in my eyes. “Mom, before I saw Victoria, I really thought you and Dad had a place for me in your hearts. But now I see, you only have one daughter.” “I am never switching back with her. Give up.” I turned to leave, desperate to escape that toxic house. But as I took my first step, a sharp, explosive pain erupted at the back of my head. 4 I collapsed into a pool of my own blood. The pain was so intense my body trembled uncontrollably. I could feel the warm, slick blood pouring from the wound. Victoria stood over me, holding the weapon: a small ceramic bear I had given her for her birthday years ago. “Victoria, you hit her too hard!” my mother shrieked. “Did you kill her?” Seeing my eyes were still open, Victoria relaxed. “She’s still breathing.” She knelt and patted my cheek. “Ava, you brought this on yourself. If you had just agreed to switch, none of this would have happened.” My vision began to blur, but I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay conscious. “To look more like you, I even lost twenty pounds and got the same haircut,” Victoria continued, chattering to herself. “Once I’m in your clothes, not even Mom and Dad will be able to tell us apart, let alone Damien. From now on, you’ll be a good little Ava. Otherwise, you’ll force my hand.” My parents were starting to strip my clothes off when a knock echoed from the front door. The whole family froze. “Who is it?” Victoria called out. “It’s me.” It was Damien. I was about to scream when my father clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into the bedroom. “Victoria, why isn’t the door open?” Damien’s voice was sharp. My mother quickly pulled a rug over the bloodstain on the floor. Only then did Victoria open the door. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound casual. “I was nearby, so I came to pick you up.” Damien’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t wearing that when you left.” “I spilled something, so I changed into some old clothes. Since you’re here, let’s go.” I could hear every word from the bedroom. If she left with him, my life would be a repeat of the last. Victoria would never let me live; only the dead can keep secrets. My father glared at me, mouthing a silent warning. I nodded obediently, my left hand fumbling for the leg of a nearby chair. With a sudden jerk, I pulled it over. It crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Enraged, my father grabbed my hair and slapped me hard across the face. “What was that?” Damien asked from the living room. Victoria quickly blocked his path. “Nothing! Probably just the cat.” But Damien was already walking toward the bedroom. He bent down and touched the dark stain on the floor just outside the door. “This is blood.” He tried the doorknob. It was locked. “It’s probably just from the cat, you know, in heat. It’s filthy, let me take you to wash your hands,” Victoria said, trying to pull him away. “Open the door.” “My dad’s in there, sleeping one off. We shouldn’t disturb him.” Seizing my chance while my father was distracted, I slipped the heavy bracelet from my wrist and hurled it at the door. It hit with a loud clang. Damien’s frown deepened. He took a step back and kicked the door clean off its hinges. And there he saw me, covered in blood, with my father on top of me, whipping me with a belt.

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1 The day my husband’s first love died during a rock-climbing trip, he left a suicide note and jumped off a thousand-foot cliff. It was then I knew he’d never loved me. Then I woke up—reborn in my college years. This time, my now-ex Kevin broke up with me immediately and ran to his first love Daisy. Watching him leave, I finally let go, erasing him from my heart. Eight years later, I saw him again at a gala for Sterling City’s most powerful magnate. Kevin was a finance titan, Daisy still sparkling on his arm. Spotting me alone in a corner, he frowned in annoyance. “Elara, you’ve got nerve tracking me here,” he said contemptuously. “Stop chasing me. Even in eighty years, I’d never choose you.” I glanced at him, then walked toward my daughter hiding under a table, secretly drinking juice. His face twisted with rage. “You married some random guy and had a kid just to make me jealous? Have you no shame?” … Seeing that familiar figure across the crowded ballroom sent a jolt through me, a flicker of disbelief in my eyes. I never imagined that the next time I’d cross paths with Kevin Sterling would be at a gala thrown for Ethan Thorne’s return to the country. In the center of the room, Kevin’s arm was draped possessively around Daisy’s shoulders. He moved through the crowd with an easy smile, schmoozing with practiced charm. The quiet, brooding artist I once knew was gone, replaced by a polished executive. “Mr. Sterling, congratulations! You’re the youngest CEO in Sterling City’s financial sector. The sky’s the limit for you!” “Indeed! An invitation from the Thorne family at your age? You’re destined for greatness.” “And is this your lovely wife? You two make a perfect couple.” Kevin accepted the flattery with a gracious nod. “Daisy is my fiancée,” he announced, his smile widening. “We’re getting married in July. I expect to see all of you there.” A chorus of “Absolutely!” and “We’ll be there!” followed. Then, a former classmate of Kevin’s chimed in. “Kevin, you and Daisy were the campus golden couple. Why the eight-year marathon to the altar?” At that, I set down my glass, my gaze drawn back to him. Truthfully, I wanted to know the answer to that myself. After all, Kevin had loved Daisy to the point of madness. In my past life, the news of her death had driven him to leap from a cliff, ending his own life without a second thought. And in this life, when we were reborn back in college, he’d dropped me like a hot stone to chase after her. How could two people so supposedly in love still not be married after all this time? It was bizarre. Across the room, Kevin’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a shadow of awkwardness crossing his face before he smoothed it over. “Daisy was my first love, the only woman I’ve ever truly wanted. I refused to let her settle for anything less than perfect,” he said, his voice dripping with carefully crafted sincerity. “That’s why I’ve worked myself to the bone all these years—to give her the wedding of her dreams, the grandest the world has ever seen.” He looked down at Daisy, his eyes shining with a devotion so intense it felt theatrical. Daisy beamed, leaning into him. “I can’t wait, Kevin.” Watching them, a wave of bitter irony washed over me. So this is what Kevin looked like when he was truly in love—considerate, devoted, willing to build a world for someone. It was a universe away from the man he’d been with me. In our last life, no matter how much I gave, he refused to marry me. It was only when I became pregnant by accident and his grandfather intervened that he grudgingly agreed. I’d had enough of this charade. The party felt suffocating. I stood, ready to leave, when a flash of movement under a nearby table caught my eye. A little girl with two pigtails was hiding there, downing glass after glass of fruit punch. I shook my head with a sigh and started walking toward her. In my haste, my elbow clipped a wine glass on the edge of a table. CRASH! The crystal shattered, scattering like diamonds across the marble floor. “Hey! Who are you?” a waiter snarled, stepping in front of me, blocking my path. “Who let you in here? Do you have any idea how much that glass you just broke costs?” His expression was pure contempt. The entire room went silent. Every head turned in our direction. Kevin’s eyes found me, and he froze, shock widening his gaze. “Elara?” he breathed out, then his expression hardened. “You’d even crash a party hosted by the Thornes just to get to me?” The crowd murmured, their curiosity piqued. “Mr. Sterling, you mean she’s not an invited guest?” Kevin’s jaw tightened, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “My apologies, everyone, for the interruption. She’s… an ex.” 2 At the word “ex,” knowing smirks spread across the faces in the crowd. “Quite the collection of beauties, Kevin! An ex and a fiancée, both stunning!” “Wait a minute… didn’t he say Miss Daisy was his first love?” “So where does this ‘ex’ fit in?” The questions hung in the air, and Kevin’s face turned rigid. Daisy, nestled in his arms, shot me a look brimming with a venomous mix of disgust and resentment. “It’s a misunderstanding,” Kevin said quickly, his tone dismissive. “She’s not really an ‘ex.’ More of a… rebound I had during a brief argument with Daisy.” Having delivered his explanation, he turned to the waiter. “Put the glass on my tab,” he commanded. “And get her out of here.” Throughout the entire exchange, he never once looked directly at me, treating me like some piece of filth he was ashamed to acknowledge. A part of me was just… tired. But another part was relieved. This was good. In this life, I wanted nothing to do with him. “Alright, you heard him. Let’s go,” the waiter said, shoving me impatiently. “Look at the state of you. As if you ever had a chance with a man like Mr. Sterling.” He sneered, his eyes flicking over my slightly dusty sweatsuit. My patience wore thin. “Just a moment,” I said, my voice firm. “I need to find someone. Once I do, I’ll leave.” The waiter scoffed. “Find someone? Do you take me for an idiot? I’ve seen your type a million times. Don’t think you can hang around here scouting for your next meal ticket.” He grabbed my arm, his grip tight, and started dragging me toward the exit. Suddenly, a voice cut through the air. “Wait.” It was Daisy. She glided toward us, her arm looped possessively through Kevin’s, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “Elara, Kevin has never loved you. You need to stop harassing him,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “We’re getting married. What you’re doing… it’s no different from being a homewrecker.” “She’s right,” Kevin added, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “I never loved you. Stop clinging to fantasies. It’s been eight years. You could wait another eighty, and I would still never be with you.” He paused, then offered, as if granting a great favor, “Look, I’ll transfer you a million dollars. Just promise you’ll disappear from my life for good.” He had Daisy pull his phone from her purse. He opened his banking app, then froze. “Elara? You… you blocked me?” His voice cracked with disbelief, rising in pitch. “What else was I supposed to do?” I replied, a hint of exasperation in my tone. We made a clean break. Why would I keep his number? Besides, the man in my life now is the king of jealousy. If he ever found out I still had an ex’s contact information, he’d throw a fit to end all fits. My casual question seemed to enrage him. His face darkened. Daisy immediately jumped to his defense. “How dare you, Elara! Playing these pathetic games again!” she spat. “Did you really think a cheap trick like blocking him would make him feel sorry for you? Dream on!” She pressed herself against Kevin’s arm, purring, “Kevin, darling, don’t waste another second on her. It’s obvious she found out you’re a CEO and came crawling back. Women like her are nothing but gold-diggers.” “I know,” Kevin muttered, nodding as he shot me a look of pure disgust. Daisy’s eyes raked over me, from my worn sneakers to my simple ponytail. “You graduated from a top university, for God’s sake. Couldn’t you use all that energy you spend chasing men to build a career? Look at you. You’re pathetic. You look worse than a beggar on the street.” Her words were so ludicrous, I couldn’t help but laugh. Daisy, of all people, had clearly forgotten the mud she’d crawled out of. 3 Daisy’s family were dirt-poor farmers from generations back, living in some forgotten corner of the mountains. Worse, she was utterly devoted to her parasitic younger brother, treating him like a king. After she got with Kevin, she sold every single gift he ever gave her to fund her brother’s life. The first time I met Kevin, he was in the hospital. He’d been working a side job to give Daisy’s brother some cash and had ended up with a broken leg. Under pressure from his family, who despised Daisy, he’d finally broken up with her. That was the darkest period of his life. And I was the one who sat by his side, slowly helping him find the light again. Kevin loved to paint, so I hunted down tickets to every exclusive art exhibition I could find, no matter the cost. I was his driver, his nurse, his companion, flying with him all over the world to see the great masters. I bought him the finest canvases and pigments money could buy. I took care of everything—his meals, his laundry, his life. All he had to do was be happy. Even his own friends said I was the girlfriend of the century. Everyone assumed I was madly in love with him, but the truth was, Kevin was the one who asked me to be his girlfriend. I never saw his confession coming. He was always logging into a secret social media account to stalk Daisy’s life. I thought he was still hung up on her. But then he looked at me, his eyes full of a deep, earnest emotion. “Elara,” he said, his voice soft. “You’re my salvation. Without you, I don’t think I’d still be in this world. I’ve fallen in love with you. I want to spend every day with you.” My heart soared. I said yes. We were together for eight years. Even Kevin’s parents were shocked that their restless, impulsive son had settled into such a stable relationship with me. But no one knew the truth. Over those eight years, I asked him to build a home with me, to start a family, more times than I could count. Each time, he found an excuse to say no. It wasn’t until I accidentally got pregnant and his parents found out that he was forced, under immense pressure from his family, to marry me. He didn’t even want our child. During our marriage, we were on an outdoor adventure trip when he heard the news of Daisy’s death. He locked himself in a room for three days and three nights. On the fourth day, when I finally broke down the door, all I found was a note. Daisy was the only love of my life. Without her, my existence is meaningless. In the next life, I hope I can give her the grandest wedding of all. It was then I realized that the night before, Kevin had followed his first love into death, leaping from a cliff. My heart turned to ash. So, in this new life, when he wanted to leave me for Daisy, I didn’t try to stop him. I felt nothing but relief—an overwhelming sense of gratitude for a second chance, a new future free of him. I turned to leave the party, but Daisy stepped in my way again, her chin held high. “Elara, look at that sweatsuit. That style went out a decade ago! You look absolutely pathetic. How about I ask Kevin to pull some strings and get you a job as a server here?” “Miss Daisy is too kind,” a man trying to suck up to Kevin chimed in. He glanced at me, his lip curled in a sneer. “This is the most luxurious ballroom in Sterling City. A server’s tips here can reach thirty thousand a month! A woman like you has probably never seen that much money in her life. You should get on your knees and thank her!” A wave of irritation washed over me. “I have a job, thank you. I don’t need your charity.” But Daisy wasn’t finished. “Oh, really? I bet you’re lying. What kind of job?” “I’m an artist. I paint.” At my words, Kevin, who had been silent, suddenly snapped his head up. His eyes locked on mine, a storm of complicated emotions swirling within them. “Painting?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. After a moment, he looked at me, his expression softening into something like pity. “I only said I liked to paint on a whim back then. I can’t believe you took it so seriously. Fine. For old times’ sake, I can offer you a decent job.” I blinked, realizing his mistake. He thought I’d chosen to become an artist because of him. The truth was far simpler. When I was reborn, I discovered I’d already spent all my savings on exhibition tickets and art supplies for him. Not wanting them to go to waste, I started painting myself. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with it. Now, years later, my work has gained some renown across the country. I even get invitations to hold exhibitions overseas. My income is significantly higher than Kevin’s, the so-called young CEO. But I wasn’t going to tell him that. Kevin had never been one to believe me anyway. Besides… I glanced down at my clothes. My sweatsuit was a bit grubby. But I’d been driven to the gala straight from the airport after a week of sketching in the mountains. I hadn’t had time to change. What did it matter? I met Kevin’s gaze, my voice cool and distant. “I love my work. I plan to keep painting. But thank you for your concern.” His face darkened instantly. “Elara, do you have to be so stubborn?” “Kevin, let it go. She’s not worth getting angry over,” Daisy cooed, trying to pull him away. Just then, the waiter from before stormed over, his face contorted in fury. He pointed an accusing finger at me. “You’re a thief!” “What?” “That sweatsuit! You stole it from one of the other guests, didn’t you?” “That’s ridiculous. I bought this myself,” I said, frowning. “Liar! I recognize the brand. It’s a bespoke label! Someone like you couldn’t even afford one of the buttons!” Hearing this, Kevin’s expression soured into disgust. “Elara, what has happened to you?” “So that’s your ‘job,’ huh? A petty thief!” Daisy sneered. “You have two hands and two feet. How could you resort to stealing?” I felt the weight of dozens of judgmental stares. The whispers started around me, and my face grew cold. These people would say anything to get on Kevin’s good side. My patience was gone. “I said, this is my clothing!” My voice was sharp, cutting through the murmurs. “If you don’t believe me, call the police. Otherwise, I’ll sue you for slander.” The waiter’s bravado faltered, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “Why are you getting so defensive? If it weren’t for the fact that I don’t want a lowlife like you ruining Mr. Thorne’s gala, I’d have you arrested right now!” “Speaking of which,” someone in the crowd piped up, “isn’t it strange that Ethan Thorne hasn’t made an appearance yet?” “A man of his stature always makes a grand entrance at the pivotal moment,” Kevin said confidently. “I heard he brought his wife and child back with him this time!” “Really? Which family’s daughter was lucky enough to capture his heart?” “A titan like Ethan Thorne… he lives in a different world from us.” As the crowd buzzed with speculation, a thrilled smile spread across Daisy’s face. “Kevin, darling, do you think you could invite Mr. Thorne to our wedding? Imagine how prestigious that would be!” “I’ll do my best,” Kevin said, his chest puffed with confidence. Just as he spoke, the venue manager, flanked by a dozen security guards in black suits, hurried toward the crowd, his expression grim. 4 “Ladies and gentlemen,” the manager announced, his voice tight with anxiety, “have any of you seen a little girl, about this tall?” He held his hand out, measuring the height in the air. A collective gasp went through the room. People exchanged nervous glances. It had to be Ethan Thorne’s child. Who else could command such a frantic, high-level search at his own party? “I heard Mr. Thorne’s child is a little girl!” “Yes, yes, around four or five years old!” someone added. A jolt of excitement shot through the crowd. They had been racking their brains for a way to connect with the legendary Ethan Thorne, and now, fate had dropped the perfect opportunity right in their laps. Instantly, the ballroom erupted in motion as guests fanned out, eagerly searching for the missing child based on the manager’s description. Kevin and Daisy were at the forefront, pushing past others in their haste. I watched the chaotic scene unfold and shook my head with a wry smile. This little troublemaker really knows how to make an entrance. I walked straight to the juice station. There she was, my daughter, downing another glass as if her life depended on it. I crossed my arms, my brow furrowed. “Still thirsty?” She spun around. When she saw it was me, a sheepish grin spread across her face, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Come on. We’re going home,” I said sternly. “No!” She shook her head so hard her pigtails flew, clutching her juice glass like a precious treasure. I took a step forward, reaching for the cup. But in a flash, Daisy threw herself between us. “Elara! How dare you!” she shrieked, her voice loud enough to command the entire room’s attention. “Do you have any idea who she is? She’s the Thorne family’s little princess! You’re actually going to lay a hand on her? Are you out of your mind?!” Everyone froze. All eyes snapped back to us. Kevin rushed forward, his face a mask of disgust. “Elara, I haven’t seen you in years, but I never thought you’d stoop this low. I know you’re desperate for money, but this is beyond pathetic!” Before I could even open my mouth to explain, the waiter who had accused me of theft cut in. “You worthless parasite! How dare you cause trouble at a Thorne family event!” He glared at me, then turned to the frantic manager. “Sir, it’s her! Not only did she steal clothes from a guest, but now she’s trying to harm the young miss!” The manager’s face went pale with fury. “Men! Detain this woman immediately!” he roared. “I’ll personally escort her to the police station! And be careful! Don’t frighten the young lady!” Two hulking guards immediately moved toward me, their expressions menacing. Daisy, seizing her moment, crouched down and gave my daughter her most winning smile. “It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t be scared,” she cooed. “Aunty has taken care of the bad woman who was trying to hurt you.” My daughter blinked at her, then walked straight past her, over to me. She wrapped her arms tightly around my leg and looked up with a trembling lip. “Mommy,” she whimpered, “this lady is scary.”

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Confetti from my 99th IPO was still falling when a hood was thrown over my head and I was shoved into a van. I expected a ransom demand, but instead found my biological parents who abandoned me twenty years ago. “Your sister ruined a gift Stephen Whitford bought his wife,” my father commanded coldly. “You’ll take the blame.” The daughter they raised in my place sobbed theatrically. “Stella, even if Stephen tortures you to death, Mom and Dad will finally welcome you back for this.” My birth-assigned fiancé—a stranger—dabbed her crocodile tears with adoration. “It’s your privilege to pay for Isabelle’s mistake,” he snarled. “If you say one wrong word, I’ll ruin you!” He leaned closer. “Stephen has a nasty temper. Beg, plead, crawl into his bed if you must—just keep his anger away from Isabelle’s family.” I stared blankly. They wanted me to beg mercy from my husband? The one currently giving me the silent treatment after storming out? So my gorgeous, petty man had bought me a birthday gift after all. Was he ready to make up? … A laugh escaped me. I couldn’t help it. They were literally planning to send me back to my own home. Well, this might work out perfectly. Maybe when he saw me like this, that big baby would feel a pang of sympathy and drop his grudge. My parents were still barking orders at me. “Do you have any idea who the Whitfords are?” my mother shrieked. “If they hold this against your sister, her entire life will be destroyed!” “You’re tough, you grew up in the gutter, you can take a beating,” my father added. “But Isabelle is different. She’s been raised in comfort, not like you, who clawed your way up from nothing.” Isabelle immediately threw herself into the arms of my supposed fiancé, Caleb. “Caleb, darling, I didn’t mean to,” she whimpered. “I was just trying to wipe a smudge off the gift for Mr. Whitford’s wife, and my hand slipped…” Caleb wrapped his arms around her, cooing reassurances before glaring back at me. “Stella, if you try any funny business, I won’t just run you out of Port Sterling. I’ll make sure that pathetic little startup of yours goes bankrupt overnight!” A pathetic little startup? Any one of my 99 publicly traded companies could buy his entire family dynasty ten times over. And he called them pathetic? I suppressed another smile and asked meekly, “So… what exactly do you want me to do?” Seeing me submit, Isabelle’s tears vanished. Her chin went up. “Everyone knows Stephen Whitford is a monster—brutal and cruel,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “If he hits you, you take it. If he screams at you, you endure it. You do whatever he wants until his anger is spent!” My mother chimed in, “Exactly. And you have a pretty face. Once Mr. Whitford is done playing with you, he might forget all about our family’s little mistake.” “And when it’s all over,” she finished with a magnanimous flourish, “we’ll let you rejoin the family. We’ll even find you a decent husband!” Isabelle traced circles on Caleb’s chest, her eyes glinting. “I know this is terribly unfair, darling sister,” she purred. “But you’re the older one. You should be the one to make sacrifices.” “And even if you don’t make it back, Mom, Dad, and I will set up a nice memorial for you. We’ll visit it every year, I promise.” Well, damn. They already had my funeral planned. That tiny flicker of excitement I’d felt at finally finding my birth family was stomped out, ground into dust. It made sense, I suppose. If they could abandon me twenty years ago, they weren’t exactly going to be model parents now. Caleb pulled a photograph from his pocket and tossed it at my face. “Take a good look. This is Stephen Whitford, the heir to Whitford Industries!” The man in the photo had eyes that could drown you and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Devastatingly handsome. And, yup, that was my husband. The one who’d stormed out and was now refusing to answer my calls. He really did have a temper. Petty and vindictive. The whole reason we were fighting was that I’d been too busy with the IPO to spend time with him. And yet, even while he was sulking, he’d still bought me a birthday present. The man was all bark and no bite. Adorable, really. I pocketed the photo, forcing a tremor into my voice. “Is he… is he going to kill me?” My father snorted, waving a dismissive hand. “Hmph. That depends on how useful you can be. Now stop wasting time and get going!” As I moved toward the door, Caleb grabbed my arm. “Wait.” He eyed me suspiciously. “You’re not planning to pull a fast one and escape, are you?” I almost laughed at his self-important act. Escape? Did a person “escape” to their own home? He leaned in, his voice a low threat. “I’m warning you, Stella. I know your type. You grew up on the streets, all sly words and manipulative tricks. You know how to play people.” “And get rid of any stupid ideas you have about me,” he added, his lip curling in disgust. “My fiancée is Isabelle. I would never be interested in a woman who’s been passed around for twenty years. Don’t even think about it.” This was hilarious. As if I’d give up my brilliant, gorgeous husband for a toad like him. He shoved me into a car, and Isabelle slid in beside him, clinging to his arm. “Caleb, darling, let me come too. I can’t bear to be apart from you for so long,” she whined. “What if she tries to seduce you on the way? I don’t trust her!” Caleb stroked her nose affectionately. “Silly girl. You’re the only one for me. Why would I even look at a cheap piece of trash like her?” He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes filled with contempt. “I heard she slept her way to the top. God knows how many men she’s been with.” Isabelle insisted on coming, claiming she needed to make sure I didn’t “get any ideas” and ruin the whole family’s plan. Caleb kept his eyes on me through the mirror. “You’d better behave, Stella. The Whitford estate isn’t a place for gutter rats like you to run wild.” Isabelle chirped, “Don’t worry, Caleb. She wouldn’t dare. Getting the chance to do this for me is the best thing that’s ever happened to her.” I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, too tired to bother with the two idiots. The sheer audacity of this family was thicker than bulletproof glass. The car wound its way up the mountain towards the sprawling villa district. As the familiar white mansion came into view, a wave of relief washed over me. The sycamores lining the driveway were the ones I’d picked out myself. In the garden around the bend, Stephen had planted a massive patch of irises for me with his own hands. It felt good to be home. I wondered, if I showed up looking this pathetic, would that sulking husband of mine feel sorry enough to stop being mad at me? But then Isabelle noticed my expression. “Stop the car!” she shrieked. Caleb slammed on the brakes. “Isabelle? What’s wrong? We’re almost there.” Her eyes were fixed on me, narrowed into slits. “Look at her! She’s got that… that dreamy look on her face! You’d think she was going to meet a lover, not face her punishment!” She lunged over the seat, her face inches from mine, her voice a venomous hiss. “Stella, do you really think meeting a man like Stephen Whitford is your golden ticket? Your chance to crawl out of the mud?” I opened my eyes and met her gaze calmly. “With an imagination like that, you should write novels.” “How dare you talk back to me!” Isabelle’s face flushed with rage. She turned back to Caleb, her voice turning into a pathetic whine. “Caleb, darling, she’s just a feral animal. She has no manners. If she acts like this in front of Mr. Whitford, he’ll take it out on all of us!” Caleb’s brow furrowed. “Isabelle’s right. Before we hand you over, we need to teach you some rules.” He got out, yanked me from the car, and gestured to a second car that had been following us. A few of his cronies got out and surrounded me, smirking. Caleb shoved me to the ground, planting a foot on my back. “Listen to me, Stella. You’re going to be a good little girl today, or you’ll regret it.” Teaching me the rules? On my own turf? I twisted around and sank my teeth into his leg. As he howled in pain, I scrambled to my feet, brushing the dirt from my clothes and cracking my knuckles. “What, you want to fight?” One of his friends chuckled, stepping closer. “Ooh, a feisty one. I like feisty. Makes it more fun.” Caleb, clutching his leg, swung around and slapped me hard across the face. These absolute animals. I didn’t hesitate. I drove my foot straight into his groin. He collapsed, gasping for air. Isabelle shrieked, her face contorted with rage. “Get her! Pin that bitch down!” The men swarmed me. I fought back, but it was four against one. In moments, they had me pinned to the ground, unable to move. Caleb staggered to his feet, wheezing, and stomped on my head. “You ungrateful bitch! Who do you think you are, fighting back?” Isabelle ran over, screaming, “You slut! You hurt my Caleb!” She pulled a small, sharp knife from her purse and held it to my cheek. “Sister, dear, that face of yours is just too tempting. What if you get to the Whitford estate and actually bewitch Mr. Whitford? He might forget all about why you’re there.” “So,” she whispered, her voice a cruel caress, “why don’t we give you a little reminder of your place?” The tip of the knife broke my skin. “What do you think, sister? Carving the word ‘whore’ onto your cheek would be a nice touch, don’t you think?” “That way, Mr. Whitford will know exactly what kind of trash you are. He can play with you, but he’ll never take you seriously.” Caleb grunted his approval. “Good thinking, Isabelle. Do it now.” As Isabelle pressed the blade down, I screamed with all the strength I had left. “I am Stephen Whitford’s wife! This is my home!” “You touch me today, and I swear, by tomorrow, there won’t even be ashes of you left to bury!” For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, the air erupted with derisive laughter. “Hahaha! What did she just say? She’s Stephen Whitford’s wife?” “Did we hit her too hard? The bitch is delusional!” Isabelle’s knife moved from my cheek to my mouth, pressing against my lips. “Sister, you should really pick a better time and place for your fantasies. You? Mrs. Whitford?” “Stephen Whitford doesn’t sleep with public property!” “Maybe we should just cut out that lying tongue of yours! Then you won’t be able to spout such nonsense anymore!” Caleb sneered down at me. “Stella, I knew you were trash, but I never realized how low you could sink.” “Who do you think Stephen Whitford is? Do you really believe he would ever look at a slut like you?” Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. Every attempt to speak sent a fresh wave of agony through me. My silence, however, was taken as guilt. Isabelle reached down, grabbed the front of my jacket, and ripped it open. My coat was torn, and a photograph fluttered to the ground. It was the one Caleb had thrown at me earlier. The picture of my husband, Stephen. Isabelle froze for a second, then snatched it up and showed it to Caleb. “See, Caleb! I told you! No wonder this slut was so eager to come with us!” “She had this disgusting fantasy in her head the whole time! She’s shameless!” “Well,” Isabelle said, a wicked smile spreading across her face, “since she’s so desperate to serve a man, why don’t we… test the merchandise for Mr. Whitford? Let’s see if her body is soft enough to please a man.” Caleb’s face darkened into a mask of pure disgust. “You make me sick, Stella.” His friends’ breathing grew heavy. One of them lunged forward and tore my shirt off. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach her how to behave. By the time we’re done, she’ll be perfectly obedient for Mr. Whitford!” Caleb just watched, cold and indifferent. I struggled desperately, trying to cover myself with my shredded clothes. But their hands were everywhere, and one of them yanked my pants down. Just as they were about to rip away my last piece of underwear, a blinding beam of headlights cut through the darkness. Caleb and Isabelle’s faces went pale. They recognized the car. There was only one like it in all of Port Sterling. It belonged to my husband, Stephen Whitford. The tinted window glided down, revealing a face so handsome it was almost cruel. “Assaulting someone at the gates of my home?” Stephen’s voice was dangerously quiet. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” Caleb scrambled to explain. “Mr. Whitford! This bitch ruined your gift! We were just teaching her a lesson on your behalf!” Isabelle, her eyes wide and fixed on Stephen’s face, hastily smoothed her dress. At that same moment, the man holding me down dug his fingers into my skin. Ignoring the searing pain in my mouth, I screamed at the car. “Husband! Help me!” The moment the words were out, a hand clamped brutally over my mouth. I fought against it, but it only made them hold me down harder. Caleb plastered a fawning smile on his face. “Mr. Whitford! Please, don’t misunderstand! This woman damaged the present you prepared for your wife. We were just disciplining her for you, teaching her some respect!” Isabelle sidled closer to the car, puffing out her chest and pitching her voice to a saccharine squeak. “That’s right, Mr. Whitford. A woman like this has no manners. We were worried she might offend you.” The light inside the car was dim. I couldn’t see Stephen’s expression. And with my mouth cut and muffled, my cry of “Husband” had come out as a garbled mess. He must not have understood me. Seeing no reaction from Stephen, Caleb stepped in front of me and hissed, “You dare scream again, you whore? I’ll show you what happens!” He grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the pavement. Again. And again. Blood streamed down my face. The world went fuzzy at the edges. I tried desperately to crawl toward the car. But then, the window began to rise. “Clean up your mess and get lost.” “My wife wouldn’t want her favorite garden sullied.”

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The car tore through the rain. Instinctively, Caleb yanked his protégé back from the curb. And a wave of filthy street water soaked me from the knees down. “Rachel’s just a freshman,” he explained, not looking at me. “She’d have a meltdown if her new dress got dirty.” I said nothing. I just stared down at the brand-new white pants I’d bought specifically to meet his mother. I tried to wipe the mud away, but the dark, ugly stain only spread across the fabric. A hollow feeling bloomed in my chest. I looked up at him. “You know what? I think I’ll sit this one out.” … Caleb’s expression froze for a second before Rachel tugged on his arm. “Come on, Caleb, it’s really starting to come down now.” Of course. Her pale pink dress was getting damp, clinging slightly to her frame. Caleb’s umbrella tilted further in her direction, shielding her completely. He shot me an annoyed look. “It’s just a little mud. Are you serious?” “I’m not going.” His brow furrowed. He took Rachel’s hand. “Fine. Have it your way.” He turned. “Let’s go, Rachel.” The umbrella, my only shelter from the downpour, vanished from over my head. I could hear Rachel’s delicate, worried voice drifting back. “Is this okay? Won’t she be mad when you get back…?” Caleb’s arm wrapped around her shoulder. “If she’s mad, that’s not your problem. Get closer, I don’t want you getting sick.” I tilted my head back, letting the rain hit my face. It really was coming down harder now. But there was only one umbrella. And Rachel had been a late addition to our plans. There was never enough room for three. I showered the moment I got back to the dorm, but a familiar stuffiness was already creeping into my sinuses. The start of a cold. My first thought was to tell Caleb. I picked up my phone, then set it back down. I couldn’t help but remember the last time. [I think I’m coming down with something.] [My head is so stuffy, I don’t know if I can make it to class tomorrow.] He’d been in the middle of a gaming session with Rachel, who had the bunk across from mine. He didn’t reply until the match was over. [Damn. That’s wild.] I’d just stared at the screen, my mind a dull blank. A part of me felt a sting of hurt, but another part had known that’s exactly how he would react. But I hadn’t expected what came next. Rachel, who was on voice chat with their team, sniffled softly. Caleb heard it instantly. “What’s wrong, Rachel? You getting sick?” From her top bunk, her eyes met mine for a fleeting, deliberate moment. “It’s just a little cold in here,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize the dorms in Northwood had such bad heating.” And just like that, Caleb quit the game mid-match, earning a stream of curses from his teammates. Twenty minutes later, there was a tap on our ground-floor window. Caleb stood outside, his nose red from the cold, holding up a bag of cold medicine. He handed it through the window to me. “Rachel’s new to campus, Luna,” he instructed. “Look after her, will you? Go get her some hot water or something.” Then, as if the mountain of used tissues on my own desk was invisible, he smiled up at Rachel. “Take this on schedule. I don’t want you calling in sick for Prof. Albright’s presentation and using ‘my makeup won’t set right’ as an excuse. He’ll be pissed, and I’m not covering for you this time.” Rachel crinkled her nose playfully. “I know, I know. Go on, get back to your game before you get banned.” She slid the window shut and glanced at me. “Don’t worry, Luna,” she said, her voice dripping with faux concern. “I won’t actually make you my servant.” … It wasn’t the first time. Not even close. But every time I tried to argue with him, to point out his blatant favoritism, he’d just sigh wearily. “Rachel’s family friends with my academic advisor, Luna. I can’t just ignore her, can I?” This time, I didn’t argue. I just lay in bed, my head splitting. My phone buzzed with a message from an unfamiliar number: [Hey Luna, you okay? Someone in my class said they saw you get caught in the rain this afternoon.] I started to type a reply, my voice catching in my throat. A moment later, a gentle knock echoed from the windowpane. A guy from my department, an underclassman, was standing outside in the downpour. He started passing a small mountain of things through the window. “Here’s a thermos of hot water.” “And I just ran to the pharmacy for this medicine, see if it helps.” “I also ordered you some chicken soup and fruit from a delivery service; they’ll bring it to the lobby in a bit.” I was stunned, speechless. I tried to refuse, but Leo was already backing away, disappearing into the rain. My phone buzzed again. [Sorry if this is weird, Luna. I know you have a boyfriend, but… he doesn’t seem to be taking very good care of you.] Maybe it was the medicine, or maybe it was the sleep, but I felt a little more human when my other roommates returned. They noticed my flushed cheeks and asked how I was feeling. Then the door swung open. Rachel swept in, her arms laden with shopping bags. “Presents for everyone!” she announced, dropping them onto her bed. She held up each item, narrating its origin. A fancy skincare set someone had gifted Caleb’s mother. A stylish new scarf. “Mrs. Evans is so sweet,” Rachel said with a sigh. “She says nice things are wasted on old people and should be given to the young first.” The room went silent. My roommates’ eyes darted nervously toward me. Everyone knew Caleb was my boyfriend. The gifts Rachel was offering suddenly felt radioactive. Wisely, no one said a word. Rachel’s smile widened. “Oh, don’t be silly. Some of these are just samples and travel sizes. Take them! I made it perfectly clear to Mrs. Evans that I’m not Caleb’s girlfriend. She totally gets it.” She padded over to my bunk and looked up at me. “What’s wrong, Luna? You’re awfully quiet. Are you upset that I brought back gifts?” Her expression was pure innocence. “It’s not my fault you decided not to come, you know.” For a long moment, I just closed my eyes. “Take them,” I said to my roommates. “They’re for you.” Only then did they move, murmuring thanks to Rachel as they picked through the items. Like a benevolent queen, she even set one of the smaller bags aside on my desk. I climbed down from my bunk, picked it up, and tossed it back onto her bed. “I don’t want it.” “What’s your problem?” Rachel shot up, deliberately bumping her shoulder into mine as she stood. Already dizzy from the fever, I staggered, grabbing the bed frame to steady myself. She pouted. “I brought that back especially for you. No one else got one.” She paused, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Does it bother you, seeing all the things Caleb’s mom gave me? If you’re that unhappy about it…” I cut her off. “Those things,” I said, my voice cold and clear, “are the gifts I bought for Caleb’s mother. Only you would be proud of receiving hand-me-downs you didn’t earn. Now, apologize.” She stared, dumbfounded. “What did you say?” “You bumped into me,” I repeated, locking my gaze on hers. “Apologize.” Her expression hardened. She crossed her arms. “Apologize? Me?” I didn’t move, didn’t back down. Our roommates froze, watching us. Just then, a knock came at the door. A girl from our program peeked in. “Is Luna here? I have a delivery for her from Leo.” After the girl left, Rachel’s eyes landed on the new items on my desk. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “Oohh,” she cooed. “No wonder you were in such a hurry to get back to the dorm.” That night, they were gaming again. In the middle of a team fight, Rachel’s voice suddenly rang out, sweet and poisonous. “Hey, Caleb… you spend so much time with me. Aren’t you worried you’ll get cheated on?” The frantic clicking and shouting on their voice chat went dead silent. Caleb didn’t seem to catch her drift. “Nah, not Luna,” he said dismissively. “She’s not the dramatic type.” I closed my eyes. Under my pillow, my phone vibrated softly. [Hey Luna, are you asleep?] [The girl who dropped off the stuff was just a delivery runner I hired. They won’t let food delivery drivers into the dorms.] [Sorry to bother you so late, I was just worried about you…] I was running late for my 8 AM lecture. When I walked in, Caleb was already there. He waved me over, a breakfast sandwich saving the seat next to him. Usually, I was the one who got here first to save his seat. It was, I knew, his version of an olive branch. He reached for my bag out of habit, but I held onto it, placing it on the other side of me as I sat. Caleb sighed. “Still mad? You ignored all my texts last night. It’s not my fault you decided not to come. My mom’s sick, Luna. I couldn’t just cancel because you were having a moment.” That wasn’t the point. It was never the point. I met his gaze. “When you asked me to come, you said you wanted to bring your girlfriend home to meet your mom.” He frowned. “Yeah. And I came to pick you up.” The absurdity of it was breathtaking. “You came to pick up Rachel.” His brow suddenly relaxed, as if a great mystery had been solved. “Oh, so that’s what this is about.” He leaned in, explaining as if to a child. “Rachel heard my mom wasn’t well and wanted to come pay her respects. We were both going anyway, so we just went together. It was just convenient.” I pressed my lips together. I didn’t have the energy to argue with him about why that was wrong. I’d argued it a hundred times before. I was so, so tired. I pushed the breakfast sandwich back towards him. Just then, a cheerful voice cut through the air. “Luna! You actually saved me a seat? You’re the best!” Caleb froze. He grabbed my arm, his face darkening. “Who is he?” “A freshman from my department.” I pulled my arm away and slid my bag onto my own chair, moving to the outside seat. “You can sit next to him. I don’t want to.” Leo blinked, then quickly recovered, slipping past me to stand next to Caleb. “Hey, man. Sorry about this. Thanks for saving the spot.” Caleb’s jaw was tight as he watched Leo slide into the seat between us. He looked like he was about to explode, but the professor had already walked in and started the lecture. His fingers flew across his phone screen. My pocket buzzed. [What the hell is this, Luna? You’re putting some random guy between us?] [Are you seriously trying to piss me off?!] He was getting more and more agitated. Finally, he shot to his feet. “Yes, you in the back?” the professor asked, a rare smile gracing his stern face. “Eager to answer a question, are we? Excellent. Then please, explain how the third formulation of Kant’s categorical imperative in the Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals synthesizes and transcends the first two. What potential dilemma, inherent in the first two formulations, does it seek to resolve?” Caleb stood there, rigid as a statue. The seconds ticked by. The professor’s look of encouragement curdled into one of stern disapproval. He adjusted his glasses. “You can’t answer? What’s your name, son?” To my surprise, Leo raised his hand. “Professor, I can answer that.” He proceeded to deliver a clear, concise explanation that had the professor nodding in approval. At the end, he asked for Leo’s name, then his gaze landed back on Caleb. “And you. What was your name again?” Just before the class ended, Rachel finally arrived, her makeup perfect, slipping in through the back door. She tiptoed down the aisle, located Caleb, and began her usual routine of whispering and gesturing to swap seats until she could squeeze in between us. As she settled in, she saw Leo and her eyes went wide with innocent confusion. “Caleb, what’s going on?” she cooed. “Who’s this guy sitting here~~?” Her voice was sickly sweet. She leaned past Leo to look at me. “And he’s right next to Luna, too.” From the front of the room, the professor’s voice boomed. “The young lady in the back who just arrived. I don’t recall seeing you for the first half of my lecture.” Rachel froze, slowly turning her head. “Professor, I was sitting in a different spot. I couldn’t hear well, so I moved.” “Is that so?” The professor scanned his attendance sheet. He looked up. “Rachel, isn’t it? Then perhaps you can tell us what potential dilemma, inherent in the first two formulations of the categorical imperative, the third formulation seeks to resolve?” That day, both Caleb and Rachel were officially marked down for poor performance. Caleb was furious. He was convinced it was all my fault. He cornered me outside the dorm building that afternoon. “What is wrong with you? Is this still about not seeing my mom? Luna, you were the one who bailed! Why are you taking it out on me now? First you embarrass me in class, then you get Rachel in trouble. Are you happy now?!” His indignation was so absolute, it left me breathless. “You got marked down because of your own actions, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice flat. “I didn’t make you show up late, and I didn’t make you unable to answer the professor’s question.” He sputtered, momentarily lost for words. Rachel appeared at his side, clutching his sleeve. “It’s really me she has a problem with, isn’t it… Just because your mother likes me, she sets us up in class…” She bit her lip, her eyes welling up. “Maybe… maybe this is for the best… Caleb, we should stop hanging out. I don’t want to cause any more trouble between you two.” With that, she turned and hurried into the building. Caleb started to chase after her, but the dorm monitor stopped him at the door. He spun back around to face me, his eyes blazing. “Are you satisfied now? And what about that guy? Why were you saving a seat for him? Explain yourself, Luna!” I just looked at him. He seemed like a stranger. “There’s nothing to explain. He’s just an underclassman. I was looking out for him.” Caleb froze. The excuse—his excuse for Rachel—hung in the air between us. But he recovered quickly, his voice rising as I turned to leave. “Luna, when did you become so unreasonable?!” … The air was still so cold. I rubbed my hands together. Maybe, I thought, the reasonable Luna had frozen to death in the rain. After that day, Caleb went into full-on silent treatment mode. Not only was he attached to Rachel’s hip 24/7, but he also started sending bouquets of roses to her at the dorm every few days. Girls from other floors, unaware of the situation, would gossip. “Is that guy Rachel’s boyfriend? They must have had a fight. He’s sending apology flowers every day, he must be serious.” I looked up from my textbook. “He’s my boyfriend.” The girl who had been gossiping choked on her apple, coughing violently. I handed her a bottle of water. “But,” I added calmly, “we can break up.” … The next day, Caleb was on the warpath. When I didn’t reply to his furious texts, he brought Rachel to the coffee shop where I worked part-time. “Iced Americano, no sugar,” she ordered. I made the drink and brought it to their table. The second her fingers touched the cold glass, she recoiled. “Oh, why is it iced?” She glanced at Caleb and pouted. “Never mind, it’s fine. I mean, you’re his…” A large hand covered hers, stopping her from pushing the drink away. “Why should it be fine?” Caleb’s eyes met mine, hard and challenging. “Is this how your shop operates? Can’t even get a simple order right?” I kept my expression neutral. “The lady ordered an Iced Americano. Iced drinks contain ice.” “Luna, why are you being so difficult…” Rachel whined, her voice thick with fake distress. Caleb squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, babe. I know you’re on your period. You can’t have cold things, and you can’t get upset.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “Now, I’ve changed my mind. We want one without ice.” I took a deep breath, clinging to my professionalism, and took the coffee back to remake it. When I returned with the new one, Caleb’s smirk widened. “You didn’t just pick the ice out of the old one, did you? Because that would be disgusting. A customer would be very grossed out.” A fire was building in my stomach. “If you find our service disgusting, you are free to leave.” “Nope.” His fingers tapped a rhythm on the table. “You’re the server. And I demand that you serve my friend here until she is completely satisfied.” I turned to walk away. He shot out of his chair and grabbed my wrist. “What, you can’t take it anymore? Is this you throwing a tantrum, Luna? Wasn’t it you who told everyone you wanted to break up with me?” The shop wasn’t empty. He dragged me towards the entrance, his voice rising. “Stop pretending, Luna. You’re pissed seeing me with Rachel, so why are you being so stubborn? I’m going home again next week. I’ll take you to see my mom. How about that?” His tone softened, became wheedling. “You know I only came here today to get you back.” I felt sick. As someone walked past us, I reached out, snatched the milk tea from their hand, and flung its entire contents into Caleb’s face. “LUNA!!!” His face was a mask of pure fury. Thunk. I tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash can. “Now,” I said, meeting his dripping glare. “I’m satisfied.” Rachel gasped, rushing to his side and frantically trying to dab the sticky mess off his face with a napkin. I turned to the person whose drink I’d stolen. “I’m so sorry. Let me buy you a new one.” The air was thick with silence. I looked up and saw Leo, a wide grin spreading across his face. “It was for you anyway, Luna,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “That was awesome.” Caleb’s expression shifted, his gaze flickering from me to Leo. “You again.” Leo’s grin didn’t falter. “Surprise, right?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385537”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The office darling is Tiffany. In any situation involving a man, her favorite pastime is throwing the other women under the bus. For a client meeting, I put on a little lipstick for once. She covered her mouth, feigning a giggle. “Oh, honey, your makeup skills aren’t the best, are they? It looks a little… rough.” I rolled my eyes. “We’re here to close deals, not legs.” At lunch, I ordered a loaded Philly cheesesteak from a food truck. She saw it and shrieked, “Oh my god, that’s disgusting! All that grease and… mystery meat! Are you even a girl?” I shot back, “At least I’m eating the cooked stuff. You’re the one eating it raw. Don’t act like I’m the weird one.” Furious, she started a rumor that I was sleeping with a male colleague. I didn’t get mad. I just smiled. She had no idea I’d seen the video of her with our department head, Greg. * 1. On my first day, my new colleague Mark gave me the tour of the department. “It’s mostly guys here,” he explained. “For the women, it’s just you and Tiffany. And just so you know, she’s kind of the… office darling.” *Darling?* Hearing that, a bad feeling started to creep into my gut. At noon, a few colleagues said they were taking me to a lunch spot downstairs to get me familiar with the area. I went ahead to call the elevator. That’s when I ran into her. A girl in a long, white sundress. Long, straight black hair, flawless makeup. In a department full of dudes in polos and khakis, she definitely stood out. This had to be Tiffany. I gave her a friendly smile and a nod. “Hi, I’m Chloe. It’s my first day…” Tiffany flicked a stray hair from her face, her eyes scanning me up and down like she was inspecting a piece of produce. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice flat and cold. “Are you coming to lunch with us, too?” The question caught me off guard. It was a department welcome lunch, but the way she said it made it sound like I was crashing her private party. That bad feeling in my gut intensified, but I kept my voice polite. “Yeah, Mark invited me along to meet everyone.” She didn’t reply, just gave a little “hmph.” The elevator dinged open, and Mark and a few other guys rushed over. Instantly, Tiffany transformed. A sickeningly sweet smile spread across her face. “There you guys are! I’ve been waiting *forever*.” Her voice was now a high-pitched, cutesy purr—a complete 180 from the ice queen I’d just met. I followed them into the crowded elevator. She completely ignored me, effortlessly wedging herself into the center of the male circle, laughing and joking with them. I was stuck in the corner. She chatted with every single guy around her, talking loudly about some video game, but never once glanced my way. It was like I was invisible. 2. Mark, probably sensing my awkwardness, tried to include me. “Chloe plays games too, you know,” he announced. “We could all team up for some ranked matches sometime.” Tiffany shot me a sideways glance, then stuck out her tongue playfully. “But I only know how to play support! If she joins, what will *I* do?” I was about to say that I can play any role—it’s a team strategy game, not a gender-assigned chore—but she cut me off, changing the subject before I could even open my mouth. “Oh, by the way, my computer has been acting so weird,” she whined, turning to another guy. “Kyle, you *have* to take a look after lunch. I’m just helpless with this stuff.” Kyle immediately promised he would, and just like that, the conversation moved on. Mark just gave me a helpless shrug. When we got to the restaurant, Tiffany walked straight to the head of the large round table and sat down. Someone joked, “Queen Tiff has to have her throne.” She playfully swatted the air. “Oh, you guys are the worst! Stop calling me that.” Kyle then piped up, “Hey Tiff, who’s older, you or Chloe? You two look about the same age.” Tiffany’s hand, which was reaching for her water glass, froze mid-air. She put the glass down, her gaze slowly drifting over to me. She put on a hesitant expression, as if she was embarrassed to say. Only when all the guys were looking did she lower her voice. “Well, Chloe has such a… *mature* vibe, you know? So professional. I bet she’s older than me, maybe by a couple of years?” She dragged out the last few words. Her voice had this forced, breathy quality. I had a feeling she was putting it on. When we were alone at the elevator, she sounded completely normal. The guys seemed to eat it up, but to me, it was like nails on a chalkboard. I looked right at her, my tone even. “I’m twenty-two. How about you, Tiffany?” The smile on her face froze solid. I already knew from Mark that Tiffany had been with the company for three years. Do the math. She had to be at least twenty-five. Her face flushed, then paled. She was speechless. Finally, she just dropped the act, glared at Kyle, and snapped, “A girl’s age is a secret! Why would you ask something like that, Kyle?” Hilarious. She didn’t seem to mind talking about age when she was trying to imply I was old. I ignored her and went back to the menu. Throughout the meal, Tiffany remained the center of attention. One minute the food was too hot, the next there were too many bones. The guys played along. “Gotta take care of the office darling!” one of them chimed in. “She’s not just the darling, she’s our mascot!” another added. Tiffany reveled in it, laughing so hard she almost fell out of her chair. A darling? A mascot? Are we talking about a person or a poodle? “Chloe’s a girl too, she needs taking care of,” Mark said with a good-natured laugh. Tiffany’s face fell. “You guys are all the same. Always looking for the new shiny toy. Men!” I just ate my food quietly and didn’t say another word. On the way back to the office, Tiffany suddenly stopped. “Oh, my shoelace is untied! Can someone give me a hand?” I instinctively started to offer, but she looked right past me, pouting at the guys behind her. “I’m wearing a skirt, it’s so inconvenient to bend over. What if I flash someone by accident?” A few of the guys rushed to help. I didn’t break my stride. I just walked straight into the building. 3. I wondered why our department had so few women when the gender ratio in other departments was pretty balanced. Late that afternoon, I went to the breakroom to get some water. As I approached the door, I heard hushed voices inside. It was Brenda, a veteran from the department next door. “That Chloe girl seems sharp,” she was saying. “I hope she lasts.” “What do you mean?” another voice asked. I stopped in my tracks. “You think it’s a coincidence your department has no other women?” Brenda said. “They’ve had a few new hires, but Tiffany drove every single one of them away.” My heart sank. “Tiffany is not easy to get along with,” Brenda continued, her voice laced with disdain. “If you don’t kiss her ass, she’ll stab you in the back. There was a girl, Michelle, whose work was way better than hers. Just because Michelle didn’t get her coffee one morning, Tiffany spread rumors that she was jealous and even bad-mouthed her to the managers.” “She can’t stand seeing the male colleagues being nice to any other woman,” Brenda scoffed. “If a girl even talks to a guy for more than a minute, Tiffany starts playing the victim, making the guys think the other girl is bullying her. After a while, the new girls either quit out of frustration or just distance themselves from all the men, which eventually makes them an outcast anyway.” “And Chloe is young and naturally pretty, even without a ton of makeup. You didn’t see the look on Tiffany’s face when she saw Chloe. I heard she even tried to pull that age crap on her at lunch. It’s pathetic. Tiffany’s an old hand here, and she’s competing with a fresh college grad.” I stood there, processing everything. A few days later, my boss told me I had a big client meeting the next day. Tiffany, who overheard, looked pissed. Apparently, she was usually the one sent to “represent the team” at these things. The next morning, I swiped on a layer of my best red lipstick. The second I walked into the office, Tiffany descended on me. She covered her mouth with her hand, her voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Oh, Chloe, honey, your makeup skills aren’t the best, are they? It looks a little… rough.” It was true, I wasn’t a makeup artist. Meanwhile, Tiffany was dressed like a peacock in heat, her white blouse unbuttoned just enough to offer a strategic hint of cleavage. I believe in dressing how you want, but for an office, it was a bit much. I rolled my eyes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “We’re here to close deals, not legs.” The area went silent. A few of the guys suddenly found their computer screens incredibly fascinating. Tiffany’s face went from red to white, her lips trembling with rage. She bit her lip hard, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. But instead of blowing up, she just stomped her foot and stormed off toward the breakroom. I ignored her and got to work. Mark shuffled over to my desk, scratching his head. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I think that lipstick color looks great on you. Makes you look powerful.” “Yeah, you look sharp,” another guy, Dave, added from his desk. “Perfect for a client meeting.” “Thanks, guys,” I said with a genuine smile. I knew they meant it, a stark contrast to Tiffany’s backhanded cattiness. Later, I ran into Brenda in the restroom. She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Chloe, what you said earlier… it was a little crude, but you weren’t wrong.” She glanced quickly towards the breakroom and gave me a wink. “Some people need to learn this is an office, not their personal runway. Well done.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Brenda, I was just telling the truth.” “The truth is what hits hardest!” she said, patting my arm. “So many people can’t stand her act, but no one ever says anything. I like your style.” It was a relief. I wasn’t the only one who saw through Tiffany’s charade. Most people just couldn’t be bothered to call her on it. I look easygoing, and I hate drama. But if you shove your nonsense in my face, I will absolutely not back down. 4. On Friday, Mark barely made it in before the clock-in deadline. “Cutting it close, huh?” I asked as I passed his desk with my morning coffee. “I thought the new car was supposed to make the commute easier.” Mark sighed, rubbing his temples. “Don’t even get me started. This car is becoming a curse.” Just then, Tiffany sauntered into our office area, holding a mug of herbal tea. “Mark, thanks so much for the ride this morning! I’ll buy you a coffee later!” At her words, Mark’s face fell even further, though he managed a weak smile. “No problem. It was on my way.” Tiffany cooed a few more times about how he was “the bestest” before sashaying out. I raised an eyebrow. I knew exactly what was going on. The moment the door clicked shut, the smile vanished from Mark’s face. He leaned toward me and started venting in a hushed, desperate voice. “Chloe, you have no idea how much I regret agreeing to this,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I bought this car to take my girlfriend on weekend trips, you know? To make life easier. Now I’m her personal chauffeur.” My gossip senses were tingling. I gestured for him to continue. “At first, she said her scooter was broken and just needed a ride for a few days,” he sighed. “I figured, we’re colleagues, it’s the nice thing to do. But ‘a few days’ turned into every single day! I have to leave 20 minutes early to wait outside her apartment, and she’s always late. One day it’s her lipstick, the next it’s her shoes. She’s almost made me late for work three times.” He pointed at his phone. “Today, I waited outside her place for a full half-hour! When I texted to hurry her up, she said I was being mean to her. I can’t win!” “And the worst part,” he said, his voice rising before he quickly lowered it again, “is that she has zero respect for my car! She’s always eating in it, leaving crumbs everywhere. The other day she brought a Frappuccino. I told her to be careful, but she spilled half of it on the new seat!” Mark looked genuinely pained. “But the final straw was two days ago. She got out, and some charm on her purse scraped a long gash along the door. She just said a casual ‘oops, sorry’ and didn’t even mention paying for the repair.” I frowned. “What does your girlfriend think about all this?” “She’s furious!” Mark said with a bitter laugh. “I was supposed to take her to a movie last Saturday, but Tiffany said she needed a ride to the mall. Then on the way, she had to stop at the bank. We waited in line for an hour. By the time I got to the theater, the movie had already started. My girlfriend and I had a huge fight.” “If you don’t want to do it, just say no,” I suggested. He threw his hands up in defeat. “I’ve tried! But every time I’m about to, she puts on this pathetic act, talking about how she’s just the ‘office darling’ and needs help. If I say I’m busy, she says she doesn’t mind waiting for me. I don’t want to make things super awkward, you know?” Looking at his miserable face, I felt bad for him. This wasn’t a carpool; this was exploitation. How could someone be so shameless as to think inconveniencing others was their right? “Don’t worry,” I said, patting his shoulder. “If she asks you for a ride after work, I’ll handle it. The only way to deal with people like that is to be direct. Otherwise, they’ll never stop.” Mark looked at me, a wave of relief washing over his face. “Thank you, Chloe. Seriously. Any more of this and my car, and my relationship, are going to be wrecked.” As expected, just before five o’clock, Tiffany clicked over to Mark’s desk in her heels, an air of entitlement around her. “Mark, you can just drop me off at Costco on your way, right? Your new car has so much space, and I need to buy, like, a ton of stuff.” Mark’s phone buzzed with a text from me. It read: *Showtime.* I walked over briskly, holding a stack of freshly bound documents, and dropped them on Mark’s desk with a thud. “Mark, the client just called. They need a revised product spec sheet delivered to their office tonight. We have to go now, or they’ll be closed.” The smile on Tiffany’s face vanished. She glared at me. “Chloe, can’t you go by yourself? Why do you have to drag Mark into it?” I looked up at her. “This is our team’s project, not just mine. Besides, Mark has a car. What’s wrong with me catching a ride?” “Don’t you feel shameless, just expecting a ride like that?” Tiffany sneered. “Why should I?” I retorted. “If you can ride in it, why can’t I?” “I…” Tiffany was speechless. She quickly switched back to her damsel-in-distress mode, reaching for Mark’s arm. He instinctively dodged. The guy had a girlfriend; his survival instincts were sharp. “Mark,” she whined, her voice dripping with saccharine. “Listen to how aggressive she’s being. We’re all colleagues, shouldn’t we help each other out? I’m just catching a ride, it’s not a big deal for you.” “Helping each other out is one thing,” I said, waving the documents, “but is the client not important? Is our work not important? If we lose this project, our whole department’s bonus is on the line. Are you going to take responsibility for that?” The weight of that accusation was too much for her to bear, but she still didn’t give up. She turned back to Mark, her voice soft and pleading. “Mark, after you drop Chloe off, could you swing back and pick me up? I can wait for you at the entrance. It won’t take too long.” Mark cleared his throat and delivered the line I’d coached him on. “Tiffany, it’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m almost out of gas. I was actually going to ask if I could borrow a hundred bucks from you to fill up. After I drop off the documents, I have to pick up my girlfriend. I probably won’t have time to backtrack.” Tiffany’s expression soured, a mix of disgust and suspicion. “You just bought this car. How are you already out of money for gas?” “Yeah, well, car payments,” Mark said, playing his part perfectly. “Plus, it’s almost Valentine’s Day, and you know how that is. Money’s a little tight.” He looked at her with hopeful eyes. “So, if you could spot me, I can pay you back next payday.” Tiffany’s tone turned sharp and cold. “Oh, what a coincidence. I just bought a new Kate Spade bag, so I’m a little short myself… Actually, you know what, I just remembered I have some work to finish up. Since you’re busy, I’ll just get an Uber. No trouble at all.” “If you need gas money, just ask Chloe,” she added as a parting shot. Without another word, she spun on her heel and practically fled. Watching her retreat, Mark let out a burst of laughter. “Chloe, that was brilliant! She’s always bragging about how generous she is, but the second you mention money, she runs for the hills.” 5. The Monday after our weekly meeting, our manager, Greg Davis, called Tiffany and me into his office. “We have a new platform project,” he said. “The client has high expectations. I want you two to handle it together.” Tiffany immediately beamed. “Don’t you worry, Greg! I’ll take the lead and make sure this project is a huge success!” *Take the lead?* Greg never said who was in charge, but she was quick to promote herself. Back at my desk, I got an email from Tiffany with the task breakdown. She had assigned me the entire core framework development. She would be “handling client communication and final touch-ups.” “This division of labor doesn’t seem quite right,” I told her. Anyone could see I was doing 90% of the work while she was handling the cosmetic stuff. “Chloe, you’re new, you don’t understand how these things work,” she said condescendingly. “I’m taking all the stressful client-facing stuff off your plate. You should be thanking me.” Fine. I raised an eyebrow. Let’s see what kind of game she was playing. For the next two weeks, while I was buried in code, Tiffany sat at her desk, scrolling through her phone. The client’s requirement list, which she was supposed to summarize, took her three days to even start. Every time I asked for it, she’d claim she was “too busy.” The most ridiculous part was that every evening, right before she left, she’d take a picture of her computer screen and post it on Instagram. The caption was always something like, “Another day on the grind! hustle worklife.” Half the guys in the office would ‘like’ it. Even Greg commented once, “Great work, Tiffany. Keep it up.” He then had the nerve to tell me, “Chloe, you see how dedicated Tiffany is? You need to step up your game.” I was speechless. She was posting those pre-scheduled stories from her couch. *I* was the one actually working overtime. Even Mark felt bad for me and started helping with some of the minor details. “Working late again, Chloe?” he asked one night. “Need a hand?” I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Go home to your girlfriend.” Mark finally packed up and left. On Friday morning, I sent the completed technical proposal and timeline to Tiffany, telling her to add her client communication notes. “Got it,” she replied without even looking up. By the end of the day, she still hadn’t sent anything. “Where’s the document?” I messaged her. “I had too much to do today, didn’t get to it,” she replied. “I’ll work on it over the weekend.” I didn’t believe her for a second, but I just stressed that it absolutely had to be done by Monday. Around lunchtime, I saw Tiffany and a few of the guys huddled together, playing a loud mobile game. The entire floor was filled with her high-pitched squeals. “Aww, why didn’t you give me the blue buff?” “Hehe, that kill was mine!” “My Princess Lulu is the best!” Dave from accounting had to walk over and ask them to keep it down. Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Work is so stressful. What’s wrong with blowing off a little steam?” One of the guys chimed in, “Hey, when the office darling wants to play, you play.” Dave just walked away, shaking his head. On Sunday night, I messaged Tiffany again for the materials. She replied instantly: “Oh my god, Chloe, I’m so sorry! Something came up with my family, and I’m swamped. Could you just fill in my part for me? You know the project inside and out anyway. I’ll buy you Starbucks all next week!” I shut her down immediately. “That’s your part of the project. If I do it, whose name goes on it? I need it by 10 AM tomorrow, or we can’t send it to the client.” That shut her up. At 9:59 AM on Monday, she finally sent over a few paragraphs of rambling, copy-pasted nonsense. The document was full of errors. It was so bad it was almost funny. How had she survived in this company for three years? I didn’t bother replying. I just fixed it myself. A few weeks later, it was time for the big presentation. Tiffany told me to make the PowerPoint deck, saying she would “review and enhance” it. When I saw the version she uploaded to the client portal, I almost choked. The only change she’d made was adding her name to the front page in a huge font and shrinking mine. “By the way, Chloe,” she said, “I’ll handle the presentation. Just send me all the final files.” Of course she would. There was no way Tiffany would pass up a chance to be in the spotlight. Seeing her smug, self-satisfied face, I just smiled coldly and gave her what she wanted. “Sure thing.” She was ecstatic.

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The day I found out I was the long-lost heiress to a fortune, I was herding sheep in Montana. The fake heiress and my supposed fiancé stepped out of a helicopter, their faces screwing up at the sight of manure-dotted fields. “Cassie,” she said, her voice dripping with pity. “You must have had such a hard life out here. We’ve come to take you back to the city.” Hard? I pointed a thumb over my shoulder at the vast, rolling mountains behind me. “Ever seen this much land, city slicker?” “Ever seen herds of cattle, bison, and sheep that stretch to the horizon, city slicker?” “Ever seen a real log lodge or a working ranch, city slicker?” “This? This is all mine.” I’m no charity case. I wasn’t so sure who the rich one was here. The fake heiress just stared, her mouth hanging open. “City… city slicker… that’s such a niche term.” 1. When we heard the Prescotts were sending someone to get me, my Nana made me put on a new denim shirt she’d bought for me. “My girl,” she said, her hands rough but gentle as she smoothed the collar. “You dress nice. Don’t want them thinking we’re some backwoods hicks.” A thunderous roar echoed through the valley, and soon a sleek, black helicopter was touching down in our main pasture. A young man and woman emerged, looking wildly out of place. The woman wore a delicate white sundress and stiletto heels; the man was in a trench coat and sunglasses, like a spy on vacation. I knew who she was. The girl who had been switched with me at birth, Savannah Prescott. The first thing Savannah did was step directly into a fresh cow pie. The wet, green kind. She looked down, perplexed, then bent over, holding her dress. She smiled at me brightly. “Cassie, the soil here is so… unique.” “I read online that the earth in the countryside has this wonderfully clean, fresh scent. I’m just going to see what it smells like.” Before I could stop her, she dipped a perfectly manicured finger into the “soil,” brought it to her nose, and took a deep whiff. Her expression curdled. “Oh. Well, that’s… a very distinct aroma. Very… novel.” Definitely a city slicker. She’d never seen a real cow pie. “That’s manure,” I said flatly. Savannah was silent for a moment. Then she let out a shriek that would startle a prairie dog, yanking her foot out of her now-ruined shoe. Forgetting the state of her hand, she hopped on one foot over to me and threw her arms around me in a hug. “Oh, Cassie, your living conditions are just dreadful!” she cried. “You’ve suffered for so long! I’m taking you home right now.” 2. Dreadful? I thought it was pretty great. We had mountains, streams, and more livestock than you could count. In the distance, the peaks of the Rockies were capped with snow. People from big cities paid a fortune to vacation here, and they always looked like they were in heaven. Savannah took in my worn jeans and the calluses on my hands, her brow furrowing with guilt. “Cassie, our family is very wealthy. You’ll never have to worry about money again.” She was the first person in my entire life to call me poor. I gently turned her face towards the endless expanse of our ranch. “Ever seen this much land, city slicker?” “Ever seen herds of cattle, bison, and sheep that stretch to the horizon, city slicker?” “Ever seen a real log lodge or a working ranch, city slicker?” “This? This is all mine.” “A single bison goes for ten grand, a good horse for eight, a cow for two, a sheep for a few hundred. You do the math.” Savannah was speechless. A moment ago, all she’d seen was manure. Now, her eyes were taking in the whole scene. It was summer, and the high-country pasture was a sea of green grass and yellow wildflowers. The sun was starting to set. I didn’t have time to entertain them; I had to get the flock into the pen for the night. “Cassie, I’ve never herded sheep before! Can I please try?” Weird. Never thought someone would be begging to do chores. Seeing the sparkle in her eyes, I just waved a hand. “Go for it.” She dug a pair of flip-flops out of her designer handbag, carefully tiptoed around the manure patches, and charged toward the flock. With her gone, I finally turned to the boy who’d been silent this whole time. He was tall, with the kind of lean, athletic build that suggested he could handle himself. But his skin was so pale and smooth, he was clearly a city kid with no real work experience. He felt my gaze and looked down at me, his expression cool. “Hello. I’m Landon Hayes.” I nodded. “I know. My so-called fiancé.” His posture stiffened. “I came here to talk to you about that. Miss… er, Cassie… I don’t think we’re a good match. I hope you’ll agree to call off the engage—” He was cut off by a scream from Savannah’s direction. 3. City slickers. They don’t even know how to act around sheep. Savannah was supposed to be herding them, but instead, a big ram was herding her, chasing her across the pasture as she shrieked. “Cassie, why is it head-butting me? It’s so mean! Help!” I ignored Landon, swung myself onto my horse, and dug my heels into her flanks. We galloped towards Savannah, pulling up beside her. I gestured for her to get on. She tried a few times but couldn’t even get her foot in the stirrup. “I don’t know how!” So useless. I leaned down, hauled her up, and set her in the saddle in front of me. “Hold on. I’ve got work to do.” “What? We’re herding sheep on horseback?” “This is a thousand-acre pasture. You want me to do it on foot?” I held the reins with one hand, and my horse took off, kicking up dust as we expertly guided the flock back towards the pens. Riding is one of my favorite things, but the person in front of me was a non-stop chatterbox. “Cassie, the horse is so tall, I have vertigo!” “Slow down, you’re going too fast, this is terrifying!” “This is crazier than any roller coaster!” “Okay, maybe it’s not so scary… the wind in my face actually feels… free.” Once the sheep were penned, I finally remembered Landon, abandoned in the middle of the pasture. I dropped the still-babbling Savannah at our main cabin and rode back for him. By the time I reached him, the sun had fully set. He was a lonely figure in the vast twilight, looking relieved to see me. “Get on,” I said, offering him my hand. He was more agile than Savannah, managing to swing his leg over and settle behind me, albeit a bit clumsily. I told him to hold on to me, but he just sat there, stiff as a board. I glanced back impatiently and saw his cheeks were flushed. “I’ve… never held on to a girl before,” he coughed. So dramatic. Fine, fall off then. I snapped the reins, and my horse leaped forward. Landon yelped and immediately grabbed a fistful of my jacket on either side of my waist. After a moment, he spoke, his voice close to my ear. “You’re… really amazing on a horse.” “What were we talking about before?” I asked, remembering our interrupted conversation. “Oh, right. You wanted to call off the engagement.” The body behind me went rigid. “No! That’s not what I was going to say,” he said quickly. “I was going to say… we don’t know each other very well. We should… get to know each other better.” Liar. I heard him clear as day. But I’d heard city folk were proud and easily embarrassed, so I let it go. Savannah told me her parents—my biological parents—wanted me back in New York within a couple of days. But in two weeks, it would be time to move the herds to the fall pasture. Nana was getting older; she couldn’t handle a drive that big on her own. I had to stay and help. The cell service out here is terrible. Savannah had to stand on a rock and hold her phone up to the sky to get a signal, but she managed to convince our parents to let me stay for two more weeks. Landon, having nothing better to do on his summer break, stayed too. I went out to fetch some spring water for them. When I came back, I could hear them arguing from outside the cabin. 4. On the table was a basket of something my aunt had sent over. They were green, spherical, and covered in sharp spikes. “I didn’t know they grew miniature artichokes in Montana,” Landon was saying thoughtfully. “That’s not an artichoke,” Savannah shot back. “It’s obviously a baby pineapple.” “I saw them on a trip to Southeast Asia,” Landon insisted. “They’re called ‘mini-artichokes.’” They were at a stalemate, both utterly convinced they were right. When they saw me, they both asked at once: “Is this an artichoke or a pineapple?” I looked at the spiky green ball on the cutting board and sighed. “Has it ever occurred to either of you… that it might be a chestnut?” They both stared, then laughed. “Cassie, don’t be ridiculous. I know what a chestnut looks like,” Landon said. “Yeah, Cassie,” Savannah added. “I’ve eaten chestnuts before. They’re brown. This is green. There’s no way this is a chestnut.” At first, I was worried Savannah would be one of those scheming, backstabbing types you read about in books. Now, I was pretty sure she didn’t have the brain capacity for it. “This is a chestnut in its bur,” I explained. “The green part is the shell.” Under their disbelieving gaze, I took one and cracked it open with my bare hands, revealing the familiar brown nut inside. They stared, their jaws on the floor. “Cassie, you’re a genius,” Savannah breathed, her eyes wide with a newfound admiration. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that out here, only an idiot wouldn’t recognize a chestnut. Nana decided that since we had guests, we should have a proper lamb roast. Landon offered to help. I told him to go catch a lamb. He came back fifteen minutes later, covered in dirt. “I… I can’t catch one,” he stammered. I sighed, got up, walked into the pen, and came back holding a fifty-pound lamb. Trying to save face, Landon offered to help butcher and prep it. I nodded and told him to hold it down. With one swift motion, I drew my knife. Blood spurted, and he just stood there, frozen, as it splattered across his face. “You know what,” I said, seeing his trembling hands, “I’ve got this.” He backed away, looking pale. “You’re… amazing,” he whispered. “You’re not even afraid to do that.” “I can butcher a steer, too. But bison are more expensive, so you’re not getting that.” Two hours later, the lamb was roasted to a perfect golden-brown. The mountain air gets cold at night, so I had them sit by the fire while I carved off two legs and handed them one each. Landon was hesitant at first. “I’m not a big fan of lamb, it’s usually too gamy for—” He took a tentative bite, and didn’t speak again until he had stripped the bone clean. Savannah was even less refined, talking with her mouth full. “Cassie, this is the best lamb I’ve ever had! How did you do it? It’s not gamy at all!” “Our sheep are free-range. They eat wild grasses and drink spring water. And my roasting technique is the best in the valley. You’re lucky.” I don’t know if it was my imagination, but they were both looking at me with something like hero-worship in their eyes. Nana sat with us. She doesn’t speak much English, so she spoke to me in the mix of languages we use. “That boy,” she said, nodding at Landon, “he keeps sneaking looks at you.” I glanced over. Landon immediately looked away, a blush creeping up his neck. “Looks like your fiancé likes you, my girl.” “Nana, stop,” I whispered, gesturing to Savannah. “They’ve been pretending to be engaged for a decade. They’re obviously the real couple. I’m not going to be the homewrecker who comes between them.” Nana gnawed on a rib. “Makes sense.” Our cabin has three rooms. Nana’s, mine, and a spare that used to be my parents’. I led Savannah and Landon to the spare. “You two can sleep in here.” Savannah blinked. “Together?” Landon stared at me. I nodded. “You’re a couple, right? What’s the big deal? Is it different in the city?” “Oh, no, that’s not it,” Savannah said quickly. “Good. See you in the morning.” I turned to leave, but felt a tug on my sleeve. It was Landon. “We’re not a couple,” he said, his expression serious. 5. They both insisted. Savannah said that while they grew up together, they were just like brother and sister. Landon said he hated the idea of an arranged marriage and had been dreading this trip. “Cassie, can I sleep with you tonight?” Savannah asked, clinging to my arm. “I’m scared to be alone out here.” Fine. I gave the spare room to Landon. As I was leaving, I turned back to him. “So, you’re against arranged marriages, right?” He nodded firmly. “Good. When I get back to New York, I’ll tell my parents to call it off.” He froze. “Well… I’m not… completely against it.” I looked him up and down. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to like me.” He looked like I’d just slapped him. His face went red. “I…” “Don’t. You’ve known me for less than a day. And besides, we don’t do arranged marriages out here. I’m sure as hell not starting now.” I took Savannah back to my room, leaving him standing there. In bed, Savannah was full of questions. “Landon is so handsome, Cassie. Half the girls at our school had a crush on him. You’re really not interested?” “Why weren’t you interested? You’ve known him your whole life.” She winked at me. “Oh, I was. I asked him out in middle school, and again in high school. He turned me down both times. Said I wasn’t his type. I moved on. What about you? Not even a little spark?” I pulled the covers over her head. “Go to sleep.” City slickers. Always in such a rush. Who falls for someone that fast? The next few days, I showed them the ranch. We had new lambs, and Savannah was obsessed, carrying one around with her all day. I taught Landon how to ride. He was a natural, smart and agile, and within a few days, he was galloping across the fields. Soon, it was time for the drive. We had to move the herds from the summer pasture down to the fall one. I tagged the new lambs’ ears and checked the hooves and coats of the adults. Landon helped Nana pack up the cabin essentials. The route to the new pasture wasn’t long, but there were no roads. At three in the morning, we set out. The herds knew the way, but they were mischievous, constantly trying to sneak bites of tasty-looking grass on the side of the trail until a whistle from me sent them scurrying back into line. The path grew steeper. At the top of a ridge, the snow-capped peaks of the Rockies suddenly filled the view. “Cassie, it’s so beautiful,” Savannah said, cuddling the lamb in her arms. “I don’t think I ever want to go back to the city.” At dusk, we made camp. Nana watched the herd while I gathered dried bison dung for the fire. Savannah, curious as ever, was exploring. I told her specifically not to wander off, especially after dark. But by the time I got back with a basket of fuel, I heard her screaming.

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I traveled back two years, pregnant with the child of my past life. In the penthouse suite, Hailey, the university’s charity case, was on her knees, nibbling on the buckle of Liam Sterling’s belt. As if she didn’t see me, she stuck her tongue out playfully. “Uh oh, Liam. I think I left a mark.” I pretended I didn’t hear a thing. I walked straight for Liam’s identical twin brother. One of our friends called out, “Chloe, hey, Liam’s over there.” Liam’s expression soured. “Chloe, come here.” I didn’t break my stride. I stopped directly in front of Julian Sterling. The man, who’d been lounging with a lazy sort of grace, suddenly looked up. His eyebrows arched, a playful glint in his eyes that hinted at the devil hiding beneath his polished, Ivy League exterior. “Looking for me?” he purred. I nodded, handing him a folded piece of paper from my clutch. An ultrasound report. “I’m pregnant with your child,” I stated, my voice even. “Do you want to raise it with me?” Julian: “?” The air in the room evaporated. Every breath was held hostage. Liam smashed his whiskey glass on the marble floor and shot to his feet. “Chloe,” he seethed, “say that again. *Whose* baby is it?” 1. The silence was so absolute you could hear a heart break. Everyone in our circle knew Liam and I were a package deal. The golden couple of the Sterling empire. What they didn’t know was that two hours ago, I was done with him. Forever. Julian’s long, pale fingers took the report from my hand. He studied it carefully before his eyes lifted to meet mine. They were a stunning, complicated mix of light and shadow. A single, questioning syllable escaped his throat. “Hm?” “It’s yours,” I said. “Are you going to take responsibility?” I leaned in a little. “Or should we discuss this somewhere more private?” I held his gaze, my expression dead serious. He stared back, trying to decipher if this was some elaborate, cruel joke. That’s when someone in the room finally spoke, their voice strained. “Chloe… you’re kidding, right?” A chorus followed. “Yeah, this isn’t funny. Not at all.” “We were just playing a game. Hailey just bit his belt for a dare. We were all watching. Liam didn’t even touch her.” “Chloe, you can’t be doing this just to scare him, can you? You know he can’t take a joke like that.” “We all know how crazy Liam is about you. You can’t mess with him like this.” “Hailey, say something! Help him out here.” The aforementioned Hailey, the arts department’s “sweetheart,” stood beside Liam, looking fragile and small. “But… the look on Chloe’s face,” she whispered. “She doesn’t look like she’s joking.” Her one sentence plunged the room back into an icy silence. Liam stalked toward me, his brow furrowed in a thunderous line. He snatched the ultrasound from Julian’s hand. After reading it, he let out a laugh that was pure, strangled fury. “Chloe, is this because I’m sponsoring Hailey’s tuition?” he asked, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Just because I felt sorry for her, you’re going to pull this insane stunt with my own brother?” A stunt? Oh, I was just getting started. 2. I have a condition. I need the energy of love to survive. If no one in the world loves me, I die. Instantly. In my last life, after my grandfather passed, I thought Liam’s love was what was keeping me alive. That’s why I never really worried about Hailey. Hailey was the scholarship kid who posted a tear-jerking story on a crowdfunding site, begging for a “sponsor.” *【I’m about to drop out and give up on my dreams. Is there anyone out there willing to sponsor a poor college girl?】* *【I’m just not smart enough to make it on my own, I need a big brother or a father figure to help guide me.】* *【Note: This is for sponsorship, not a sugar daddy arrangement! Please be respectful.】* She included a doe-eyed selfie. Someone from campus recognized her and posted the link to the university’s gossip forum. She became infamous overnight. Guys sent her vile messages; girls called her out for being manipulative. Liam found her crying in a corner of the library one day, overwhelmed by the backlash. He felt sorry for her, helped her, and took on her “sponsorship.” After that, she became his shadow, a little puppy trailing at his heels. At first, I told him I wasn’t comfortable with it. He accused me of being cold-hearted, and we didn’t speak for a week. Then, Hailey started trying to win me over. She was sweet, respectful, and played the sympathy card perfectly. Being a girl myself, my heart softened. I figured, what’s the harm? It’s a sponsorship, not an affair. As long as Liam loved me, it would be fine. I never once doubted his love for me. Not even at the very end. But I died right after Julian did. 3. In my last life, someone slipped something into my drink at a party. I stumbled into the wrong bedroom and spent a chaotic, hazy night with a drunk Julian. When I woke up, the shock was immense. I couldn’t face anyone, so I fled to our family’s estate in the Hamptons for a month. During that time, Hailey was in a minor car accident, and Liam was by her side constantly, playing the hero. Julian, however, followed me to the Hamptons. He asked me a question that had been haunting him for years. He asked why, when they had both been in love with me since we were kids, I had chosen Liam over him. Liam and Julian were identical, except for their eyes. That one difference defined them. Liam has classic, earnest almond-shaped eyes that make him look both intense and trustworthy. Julian has stunning, upturned eyes—the kind that could look at a garbage can and make it feel like the most cherished thing in the world. Liam’s personality was reserved, self-possessed. Girls adored him from afar, but he kept a respectable distance from everyone. Julian was wild, a charmer who knew exactly what to say. There was always some beautiful girl claiming to be his girlfriend. So, I told him the truth. I told him I thought he’d had too many girlfriends, while I’d never even had a serious boyfriend. I told him I thought he was a player, that his feelings were fleeting. I told him I thought he was… dirty. And that being with him felt like I was losing something precious. The color drained from his face when he heard that. Something in his eyes seemed to shatter. He tried desperately to explain, but I didn’t want to hear it. I cut him off, telling him to pretend that night never happened and to never, ever tell a soul. A month later, I found out I was pregnant. The day I returned from the Hamptons, I walked in on Liam and Hailey locked in a passionate, desperate kiss. I stumbled back out of the house, my world spinning. I didn’t see the car that had lost control and was careening toward me on the rain-slicked road. In that last second, Julian shoved me out of the way. His final words to me were, “As long as you’re okay…” 4. Two hours ago, I woke up in this timeline, pregnant and all. This was right after Liam had started “sponsoring” Hailey, during the week he was giving me the silent treatment for questioning it. After Julian died in my previous life, my internal “love meter” instantly dropped to zero. It was only in that moment of absolute emptiness that I realized Liam hadn’t loved me for a very long time. His affection was a hollow echo. In my past life, I never went to this party. I never saw this boundary-less moment between him and Hailey. Thinking back now, he was probably already cheating on me then, emotionally if not physically. I looked at the furious Liam and the timid Hailey beside him, and a wave of nausea washed over me. “Liam, you’re dirty now,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t want you anymore.” “What did you say?” His eyes were rimmed with red, his voice a low, dangerous growl, each word coated in ice. “You think I’m… *dirty*?” “Yes. You’re filthy.” I nodded, my gaze dropping to the still-unbuckled belt hanging loosely on his hips. The teeth marks were visible on the fine Italian leather, the surface dark with moisture. Disgusting. “You promised me no one else would ever touch that belt but me,” I said. “You said a man’s promises were his last line of defense. Now you’ve let someone else lick it. You’re tainted.” Liam’s pupils constricted. His face went white. “No, it wasn’t… I…” Just then, Julian spoke, his tone casual and utterly cutting. “Wasn’t what? You looked like you were enjoying yourself a minute ago.” Liam choked on his words, humiliated. I had no desire to stay a second longer. I grabbed Julian’s arm. “Ignore him. Let’s go talk somewhere else.” 5. I lied to Julian. I told him I was from two years in the future. In that future, I told him, Liam had died in a tragic accident. After his death, Julian had finally made his feelings for me clear, and I had become his fiancée. We got together, I got pregnant, and then I was somehow thrown back in time to this exact moment. Julian listened, his eyes downcast, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak. He just pulled a silver case from his pocket and placed a cigarette between his lips. Just as he was about to light it, I stopped him in a low voice. “Smoking is bad for the baby.” “…” He paused. “So, you don’t believe me?” I asked. He put the lighter away, the unlit cigarette still pinched between his elegant fingers. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m more inclined to believe,” he said slowly, “that you saw him playing games with another girl and this is your dramatic, albeit brilliant, way of punishing him.” My hand tightened on my purse chain. He didn’t believe me. “Then come with me.” I grabbed his wrist and dragged him back into the suite. The atmosphere was still thick with tension. Liam was slumped on a velvet couch, his face dark, staring blankly at the ultrasound report in his hands. I snatched it from him and pointed to the age field on the report. “Look. It says my age is 22. You both know I’m only 20 this year.” “And if you still don’t believe me,” I continued, “we can go to a clinic and get a paternity test—” “Chloe!” Liam roared, cutting me off. “The baby is mine. I will not let you pretend he’s the father.” Julian looked down at me, a thoughtful, almost dangerous glint in his eyes. “We’re identical twins,” he said softly. “Our DNA is the same. A paternity test would show that we are both the biological father.” I faltered. I honestly hadn’t considered that. Then, a slow, cold smile spread across my face. “Fine. If neither of you believes me, then I’ll just raise the baby myself. No father necessary.” With that, I turned on my heel and walked out.

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