I inherited my family’s old building and poured my heart into transforming it into a co-living space. A prime downtown location, five stories, with a sprawling courtyard. I knocked out every non-load-bearing wall, carving out a new vision for the space. I designed singles, doubles, and quads to meet different needs. The rent was half the market rate of the surrounding area. And I only accepted tenants who were within three years of graduation. I didn’t develop the courtyard. Instead, I built a gym and a cafeteria. The gym was filled with brand-new equipment. I hired two chefs for the cafeteria, and the prices were the same as a university dining hall. For the first month of tenancy, all meals were free. I thought I was doing something good. Giving these young people, just starting their lives, a place to breathe. A home. They called me their “Dream Landlord.” They gave me a plaque and wrote glowing testimonials online. Looking at their bright, young faces, I felt it was all worth it. Until Elias showed up. He stood at the entrance to the building, a silver suitcase at his side. He adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, his eyes critically examining the four words carved above the door: “The Haven.” Then, he smiled. 1 I was the one who checked Elias in myself. His credentials were intimidating. Top-tier law school, a full ride, awards spilling off his resume. I gave him the tour, showing off the facilities. “The gym is free to use, the cafeteria serves three meals a day, and all utilities are included.” I pointed to the price list on the wall. “Here’s the menu. A main with two sides is five dollars.” He nodded, silent, his gaze lingering for a few seconds on the kitchen door of the cafeteria. As we walked down a hallway, he suddenly stopped. He pointed to a fire extinguisher in the corner. “Clara,” he said, his tone casual, “the inspection tag on this extinguisher expired last month.” I was taken aback. “Oh… the maintenance guy must have forgotten to swap it out. I’ll have him take care of it immediately.” “There’s no such thing as a small safety issue.” His voice was placid, but it carried an unshakeable weight. A flicker of annoyance went through me, but I smiled it away. “You’re right. I’ll have it replaced right away.” He moved into 301, the best single room in the building, south-facing with a private balcony. In the days that followed, subtle changes began to ripple through The Haven. Elias was a constant presence in the common areas. He’d help the cafeteria staff chop vegetables. He’d play chess with the security guard downstairs. In the gym, he would patiently teach a shy kid how to use the equipment. The other tenants quickly got to know him, and they adored him. Soon, everyone was calling him by his first name. “Elias knows so much about everything.” “He’s such a great guy, so down-to-earth.” “That’s what you get from a top school. Real class.” Listening to the chatter, my initial unease faded. Maybe I had overreacted. Having such a brilliant and helpful young man around was a good thing. A week later, I went to the cafeteria after dinner to discuss the next week’s menu with the chef. Elias was there, surrounded by a crowd of tenants. He was holding a document, seemingly explaining something. I moved closer. “…according to Section 13 of the Urban Housing and Tenancy Act, residential rentals must adhere to the original designed room as the minimum rental unit. Altering the internal structure for subdivision is prohibited…” His voice was clear, methodical. “Many of the rooms we live in now are subdivided spaces, which is in direct violation of this regulation.” A tenant asked in a low voice, “But Clara’s rent is so cheap. The subdivided rooms are fine, aren’t they?” Elias smiled. “‘Cheap’ is a foundation built on illegality and danger. Have you considered that in the event of a fire, these subdivided rooms become the single greatest safety hazard? We pay rent. We have the right to a legal and safe living environment. This isn’t a gift. It’s a right.” He stressed the word “right.” Another tenant chimed in, “Elias is right! That fire extinguisher was expired, too. I mentioned it to Clara later, and she didn’t replace it right away!” I remembered having the guard replace it that same day. My feet stopped at the cafeteria entrance. The evening breeze felt suddenly cold. I didn’t go in. I turned and walked away. Back in my office, I sat in my chair, motionless for a long time. I pulled out the files for every tenant. Attached to the back of every single contract was a Safety Disclosure Form I had signed personally. It clearly stated: “Portions of this building have been retrofitted. The tenant acknowledges this and agrees to rent the premises voluntarily.” Every single one of them had signed it. 2 The next day, the building’s group chat exploded. Elias had posted a document titled: “A Proposal for the Improvement of The Haven’s Living Environment and Safety Standards.” It was an eloquent, three-thousand-word manifesto, covering everything from fire safety and food sanitation to the terms of our contracts. Every point was backed by legal precedent and screenshots of city ordinances. He concluded with a few “proposals”: First, he demanded that I dismantle all subdivided walls and restore the building to its original layout. Second, he demanded that the gym and cafeteria be registered as commercial entities, with proper business licenses and health permits. Third, he demanded that we sign new, “legally compliant” lease agreements, which would explicitly state that the gym and cafeteria were ancillary services provided free of charge. The chat was flooded with messages of support. “Go, Elias! You’re saying what we’ve all been thinking!” “Housing justice! We’re not trying to get a free ride, we’re trying to get what’s right!” “Honestly, I’ve always thought the cafeteria’s hygiene was a little sketchy.” “Yeah, who’s responsible if we get food poisoning?” I stared at the username of the person who complained about the cafeteria. It was Leo, from the second floor. Just yesterday at lunch, he’d bought four meals to-go, telling everyone it was for his girlfriend. I turned off my phone, rubbing my temples. That afternoon, I called Elias to my office. He looked the same as always—gold-rimmed glasses, crisp white shirt, calm and polite. “Clara. You wanted to see me?” I placed a printed copy of his “Proposal” on the desk. “Elias, before you wrote this, why didn’t you come talk to me first?” He adjusted his glasses. “Clara, this isn’t my personal opinion. It represents the collective demands of the majority of the tenants. I believe that initiating a discussion on a public platform is more efficient, transparent, and open than a private conversation.” “Open and transparent?” I held up the document. “You’re demanding I tear down the walls. There are over fifty tenants living in those rooms right now. Where do you expect them to go? Have you thought about that?” “That’s a problem for you, as the lessor, to solve. You could offer them a refund and compensation, or find them alternative housing.” His answer was flawless, airtight. “The gym and the cafeteria are perks I pay for out of my own pocket, free for everyone. Now you’re demanding I get business licenses. Do you have any idea what that entails? It means I’d have to pay substantial taxes, and subject myself to a barrage of regulations from health, fire, and business departments. Have you considered how much that would increase my costs?” “Clara, they are not perks,” he interrupted, his tone hardening. “When these facilities are tied to your rental business, they become part of a commercial service. Whether you charge for them or not, they must be legally regulated. This is to protect the rights of all of us as consumers.” Consumers. He used that word. I laughed, a humorless, angry sound. “So, while you all enjoy rent that is far below market rate, and use the gym and cafeteria I provide for free, you are now, in the name of being ‘consumers,’ demanding that I, the ‘operator,’ bear all the legal risks and operational costs?” “Before the law, all are equal.” He looked at me, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Sentiment cannot supersede legal statute. When you first renovated this building, you should have anticipated these issues. All we are doing now is bringing things back into compliance.” I took a deep breath. I pointed to the stack of contracts on my desk. “Every single person signed a disclosure form before moving in, acknowledging the renovations. It’s in black and white. They all agreed to it voluntarily.” The corner of Elias’s mouth twitched into a barely perceptible smirk. “Clara, you should know this better than I do. In contract law, there’s a concept known as an unconscionable term in a boilerplate contract. When such a term violates state-mandated regulations, or absolves the provider of their primary responsibilities while adding undue burden to the other party, that term is void.” “Those ‘voluntary’ agreements you had them sign? They’re worthless in a court of law.” There was a knock on the office door. Mia, a girl from the fourth floor, peeked her head in, holding a lunchbox. She saw Elias and looked awkward. “C-Clara… I… I was just wondering if there was any of that braised pork left from dinner?” Before I could answer, Elias turned to her with a warm smile. “Mia, I’m just discussing the points we all raised with Clara. Don’t worry. We will absolutely fight to secure a safer and more hygienic dining environment for everyone.” Mia blinked, then nodded vigorously. “You’ve got this, Elias! We’re all behind you!” She backed out, closing the door softly behind her. She had forgotten she was there for food. I looked at Elias, and a chill that had nothing to do with the evening breeze crept down my spine. 3 The negotiations collapsed. I refused all of their “proposals.” I told them the gym and cafeteria were perks that I could cancel at any time. The subdivided rooms were the reality they had all agreed to when they moved in, and that would not change. If they were unhappy, they could submit a request to terminate their lease one month in advance, as per the contract, and I would not penalize them. The next day, a single sheet of A4 paper was taped to my office door. It was titled: Final Ultimatum. It demanded that I provide a positive response to their requests and begin implementation within 72 hours. Otherwise, they would take “all necessary legal measures.” It was signed: The Haven Tenants’ Rights Committee. Person-in-charge: Elias. The atmosphere in the building changed completely. In the hallways, the same young people who used to greet me with warm smiles now averted their eyes when they saw me, hurrying away as if I were a ghost. The group chat I had created, “The Haven Family,” was now their war room. I didn’t leave the group. I watched them delegate tasks and strategize on how to gather evidence. “Who can get photos of the cafeteria kitchen? Try to get the grimy corners.” “Check the gym equipment. See if any of it is past its service life.” “Everyone needs to write a testimony. Emphasize that we were misled by the landlord and didn’t know the subdivided rooms were illegal.” “I’ve already contacted my friend who’s interning at a news station. They’re very interested in a story about ‘graduates fighting for their rights.’” Elias directed the operation with cool precision. “Everyone, remember, our goal isn’t to cause a scene, it’s to ‘defend our rights according to the law.’ All evidence must be obtained legally. Don’t give them anything they can use against us. And remember to record all conversations with Clara.” I saw that guy, Leo, was the most active in the chat. “Don’t worry, Elias! I’ve already taken pictures of the crack in my wall! We can say the building is structurally unsound!” I remembered that crack. He had made it himself when he clumsily tried to hammer a nail into the wall to hang a bookshelf. He had even come to me, asking if I could help him patch it. I sat in my office, smoking one cigarette after another. The ashtray was soon overflowing. Seventy-two hours passed. I did nothing. On the morning of the fourth day, I was served with a court summons. Plaintiff: Elias, and ninety-eight other tenants. Defendant: Me. Case: Lease agreement dispute and illegal business operations. I looked at the long, familiar list of names on the summons. The first was Elias. The last was Mia, the girl who had wanted braised pork just a few days ago. I tossed the summons on the desk and called my lawyer. “Hey, old friend. I’ve got a bit of a mess on my hands. I need your help.” My lawyer listened to the whole story, then was silent for a long time. “This is tricky. Very tricky,” he said. “The other party’s representative, or rather, the ringleader, is a master. He’s targeted your two biggest vulnerabilities: the structural modifications and the unlicensed operations. On those two points, you have almost no chance of winning in court.” “What about the contracts? They all signed them.” “Just like this Elias kid said, they’ll likely be deemed invalid boilerplate clauses. You’re up against a large group of young people, the so-called ‘vulnerable group.’ They’ll easily win the judge’s sympathy. Right now, in the court of public opinion and the court of law, you are at a complete disadvantage.” “So there’s nothing I can do?” “The only way out is to settle. Agree to some of their conditions, like rent reductions or compensation, and get them to withdraw the lawsuit. It’s the least costly option.” I hung up the phone. Settle? I looked out the window. In the courtyard, a few tenants were laughing and talking in the gym. They were still using the equipment I had bought. I picked up my phone and sent a single message to the group chat. “See you in court.” The chat was silent for three seconds. Then, Elias replied with an “OK” hand gesture emoji. 4 The day of the hearing, the sky was a heavy, oppressive gray. The courtroom gallery was packed. There were tenants from The Haven, and reporters from several media outlets. Elias didn’t hire a lawyer. He was representing the plaintiffs himself. He wore a sharp, tailored suit, his hair perfectly coiffed. He stood at the plaintiff’s podium, speaking with fluent confidence. He presented the judge with a thick binder of evidence. There were photos of the subdivided rooms, close-ups of the “questionable hygiene” in the cafeteria kitchen, and news articles he’d found online about the fire hazards of illegally modified apartments. There was also a hundred-page document containing the joint testimony of all the tenants. Each statement was written with heart-wrenching emotion. They accused me of exploiting their naivete as recent graduates, luring them into “illegal” living conditions. They accused me of using the gimmick of “free” amenities to provide “unsafe and unsanitary” food services. They painted themselves as innocent lambs, deceived and exploited by a heartless landlord. Elias’s closing statement was a masterpiece of inflammatory rhetoric. “Your Honor, we are not here to make unreasonable demands. We are recent graduates who came to this city with dreams in our hearts. We hoped for a safe harbor, but what we found was a trap filled with lies and hidden dangers!” “The defendant, Ms. Chen, built a reputation as a ‘Dream Landlord,’ basking in public praise while secretly engaging in illegal activities, putting the lives of over one hundred young people at risk!” “What we demand is not monetary compensation! What we demand is justice under the law! What we demand is our right to safe housing!” His voice was passionate, his gestures powerful. In the gallery, his supporters looked on with expressions of profound emotion and outrage. A few of the female reporters were already scribbling furiously in their notebooks. When it was my lawyer’s turn, he presented the signed contracts and the Safety Disclosure Forms. Elias immediately shot to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor! As I’ve already argued, these so-called ‘disclosures’ are classic examples of invalid boilerplate clauses! The defendant used her position of power to impose an illegal living situation upon us and is now attempting to use these documents to absolve herself of legal responsibility. The law cannot allow this!” My lawyer tried to argue, but Elias countered every point with more professional legal jargon, a more cunning line of logic. The judge’s expression grew increasingly stern. His gaze, when it fell on me, turned to ice. I knew I had lost. I had lost from the very beginning. This lawsuit, from start to finish, was a perfectly orchestrated play, directed by Elias. A flawless siege, waged with the weapon of “the law” in the name of “justice.” During the recess, I was smoking at the end of the hallway. Elias walked over. He stood before me, silhouetted against the light. “Clara. It’s not too late to admit defeat. If you agree to our terms, we can withdraw the lawsuit immediately. It’s better for you, and for everyone.” I looked at him. “And if I don’t?” He smiled. “Then we will win. And you will lose everything.” “The building will be shut down, and you’ll face massive fines. More importantly, your ‘Dream Landlord’ persona will be shattered. You will become the ‘slumlord’ in every media headline. Your reputation will be ruined.” He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Everything you worked so hard to build will be destroyed. Is it worth it?” I stubbed out my cigarette on the edge of the trash can. “See you in court.” I repeated the words. His face darkened. “You’re ungrateful.” He spat the word out and turned away. 5 The verdict was announced. To no one’s surprise, I lost. The court ruled that the clauses in my lease agreements regarding the structure of the rooms were void. I was ordered to dismantle all subdivided walls and restore the building to its original layout within one month. Furthermore, because the gym and cafeteria were unlicensed, they were deemed illegal business operations. I was fined twenty thousand dollars. The common areas, the gym, and the cafeteria were immediately sealed off by the court. The moment the verdict was read, the gallery erupted in thunderous applause and cheers. The tenants hugged each other, celebrating their “victory.” Elias was swarmed by reporters. Camera flashes strobed relentlessly. He faced the cameras, triumphant. “Today is not a personal victory for us. It is a victory for the law, a victory for justice! It sends a message to all young people that when you face injustice, you must not be silent, you must not compromise. You must bravely take up the weapon of the law to defend your rights!” A reporter shoved a microphone in my face. “Ms. Chen, what are you feeling about the verdict? Will you appeal?” “Ms. Chen, as the former ‘Dream Landlord,’ now convicted of illegal operations, do you have anything to say to the public?” I said nothing. Flanked by my lawyer, I pushed through the crowd. I reached the courthouse steps, about to get into my car. Elias’s voice came from behind me. “Landlord.” I stopped, but didn’t turn around. He walked up to stand beside me. The reporters immediately swarmed us again. In front of all the cameras, he looked at me, a flicker of mockery in his eyes. “It’s a new era.” His voice was quiet, but it carried to every ear. “The era of exploiting legal loopholes and hiding behind a mask of goodwill is over. My generation isn’t that naive.” I turned my head and looked him in the eye. Behind those gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes shone with the light of a victor. I said nothing. I just gave him a long, deep look. Then, I pulled open the car door and got in. As the car pulled away, I saw him in the rearview mirror, still standing there, surrounded by reporters and cheering tenants, like a conquering hero. I took out my phone and turned it off. Then, I closed my eyes. One week. That was all I needed.

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The New Year was just around the corner when my husband, our daughter, and I moved into our new apartment in Seabrook. I never expected to run into my aunt and her family right at the community gate. They asked me when, after all these years, I was finally going to get over it and go back home to talk things out with Liam Blackwood, the heir to the Blackwood Corporation. Liam was my college sweetheart. We were on the verge of getting engaged four years ago. But on his birthday, everything changed. He smashed the cake I’d made for him in a private karaoke room, right in front of me, and walked out with Pamela, his college roommate’s little sister. I broke up with him on the spot and moved to this small coastal city. Now, seeing me again, my aunt tried to reason with me. “You know, Liam’s never really gotten over you. Even on the day he got engaged to Pamela, he said if you just came back, he’d drop everything and start over with you.” Start over? I smiled, my voice calm. “Aunt Carol, I got married two years ago. My daughter is eighteen months old.” Liam probably thought I was still giving him the silent treatment, completely clueless that I’d already started a new life. 1 I hadn’t told anyone back home that I was married. So when I ran into my aunt in Seabrook, she was completely in the dark. A light snow was falling. I was holding an umbrella, a stuffed animal for my daughter swinging from my other hand as I crossed the small wooden bridge in the park. That’s when I saw them on the other side: my aunt and my cousin, staring at me in utter shock. We hadn’t seen each other in four years, and the first words out of my aunt’s mouth were a reprimand. “Stella! Where have you been all this time? You just disappeared without a word, no contact with your family at all!” I glanced at her, my expression cool, showing none of the joy of a reunion. They, on the other hand, seemed thrilled. My cousin, Mike, chimed in. “Stella, you’re finally back! Liam has been asking about you for years. You have to come home with us!” My aunt quickly agreed. “He’s right! Stella, you have no idea. Liam has taken over the family business now. He’s the most sought-after bachelor in our circle.” “If you get back together with him, you’ll be the envy of everyone, a wealthy socialite! And our family would get to share in the glory, wouldn’t we?” Her eyes danced with excitement, and Mike looked like he’d just won the lottery. Funny how they never gave a damn about me before. After my parents passed away, they cut off all contact. Now that they saw a potential benefit, they were all over me. I almost laughed, shattering their daydream. “Aunt Carol, Mike… Liam and I are ancient history.” The name, unspoken for so long, felt foreign on my tongue. I said it as casually as if I were discussing the weather, as if he were a complete stranger. My aunt and cousin fell silent, looking at me with strange, assessing eyes. Clearly, they didn’t believe me. After all, the whole school had known how crazy I was about Liam. They used to whisper about the Hayes girl, the one with no parents to control her, wild and untamed. 2 In high school, Liam Blackwood and I were inseparable. I was an extrovert, never caring about the gossip that swirled around us. We made it official our freshman year of college, and I truly believed we would go the distance. So, I was always attached to his hip. I’d drag him to concerts and make him study with me for finals. From the time we met at sixteen until we were twenty, we were a single unit. If things had gone according to plan, we would have been officially engaged at twenty-four. But that year, during winter break, his college roommate’s sister, Pamela, came to stay. She was the quiet, demure type who spoke in whispers—everyone’s idea of a perfect girl. Next to her, I was a whirlwind of chaos. “A girl with no parental guidance, what do you expect? She’s nothing compared to a sweet, refined girl like Pamela.” The whispers reached my ears, stinging me with shame and anger. I needed to ask Liam if he felt the same way, if he thought I wasn’t good enough. But when I got to the barbecue restaurant where we were supposed to meet, Pamela was there too. She smiled gently. “Stella, I didn’t have anything to do over the break, so Liam brought me along. You don’t mind, do you?” Normally, I wouldn’t have. But it was his birthday. He had promised we’d celebrate together. Instead, he took the birthday gift I’d brought—a scarf I had knitted myself—and casually tossed it to Pamela. I stared at the scarf in her hands, my mind flashing to the sleepless nights I’d spent making it. Something inside me snapped. “Liam, what is going on?” The restaurant was loud, filled with the smoky haze of the grills. My sudden outburst caught him off guard. He frowned, glanced at Pamela, and then pulled me outside. “She’s bored during the break, so I’m showing her around. What’s the big deal?” he muttered. I didn’t even know what the big deal was. Maybe it was hearing everyone praise Pamela while putting me down. Or maybe it was just the scarf. I grabbed the front of his jacket, my voice tight. “Then why did you give her the scarf I made for you?” He flinched, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “She was cold. I just let her borrow it to warm up.” “Warm up?” I scoffed. “Why didn’t you just buy her a new one?” “It’s a gift from you,” he said. “It’s not like I was giving it to her for good.” His words managed to quell my anger, but a bitter feeling remained. “So you think I’m not good enough, too?” “Think what?” “That I’m not quiet and well-behaved enough!” He hesitated. “You can be a little much sometimes.” My eyes widened in anger, and I slapped his arm. It wasn’t hard, and he didn’t even flinch, but Pamela gasped, her eyes immediately welling up. She rushed over and clung to his arm, her voice trembling. “Liam, are you okay? It’s all my fault, I made Stella upset… Blame me, don’t be mad at him…” She stood between us, sobbing, drawing the attention of other customers. I gritted my teeth, about to tell her to stop, but her crying only grew louder. Defeated, Liam asked a waiter to take her to the lounge area. But Pamela clung to his arm, refusing to let go. He looked at her tear-streaked face, then back at me, his expression weary. “Stella, let’s just call it a night. Pamela’s just back in the country, she’s a bit emotional. I need to get her settled.” And just like that, the birthday celebration I had planned so carefully was over before I’d even had a single bite. 3 After that, Liam’s free time was no longer mine. Pamela was by his side more and more often. If I wanted to see him alone, I had to be careful, as if we were having some kind of secret affair. One afternoon at a cafe, my frustration boiled over. “Don’t you feel like we’re sneaking around?” Liam, who had just taken a sip of his bubble tea, nearly choked. A blush crept up his neck. “What are you talking about…” “I’m not talking nonsense,” I said, my voice serious. “According to our plan, you were supposed to propose last year. Now I have to arrange secret meetings just to see you.” He knew it was a problem. He reached out, patting my head and pulling me into a hug. “Alright, you’re right. I’ll talk to my family about us. Once it’s official, you won’t have to worry about Pamela anymore.” He smiled and handed me a silver bracelet to make up for his ruined birthday. I wore it every day after that, waiting for the day we would finally walk down the aisle. That day never came. 4 In early September, my childhood neighbor, who was like an older sister to me, passed away from an illness. My aunt and I weren’t close, so during holidays when the house felt empty, she was the only one who would visit. Her death hit me hard. After the funeral, I was alone in my empty apartment, feeling a profound sense of loneliness. I desperately needed to see Liam. I rushed over to his apartment complex. And I saw him. He was holding Pamela, who was wrapped in nothing but a towel, her hair still wet. He was patting her back gently, whispering words of comfort. “It’s okay, Pamela, you’re safe…” His eyes were filled with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in a long time, a tenderness that felt like a knife in my heart. I stood there, frozen, my eyes falling to the floor where a smashed cake lay in ruins. The birthday cake I had made for him the night before was now a tragic, unrecognizable mess. A storm of anger and sorrow churned inside me. I walked over, intending to salvage what was left of the cake. It was only then that Liam noticed me. He let go of Pamela. “Stella, what are you doing here?” I ignored him, focusing on the ruined cake. He grabbed my arm. “The cake fell by accident. Pamela almost slipped. This one’s ruined, how about I buy you a new one?” I kept my head down and shook his hand off. Without a word, I turned and ran. He caught up with me at the gate, blocking my path. He studied my face. “Stella, what is wrong with you?” I stared at him, the hurt I’d been suppressing finally erupting. I could ignore what other people thought, but not him. Every look, every gesture from him could send my world spinning. Yet here he was, acting as if nothing was wrong. Fighting back tears, I looked into his panicked eyes. “Liam, do you even care about me?” He froze, his gaze shifting away as a faint blush colored his ears. “Why are you asking that…” “Do you care about me?” I repeated, clutching his sleeve, desperate for an answer. He pulled his arm free. “People are watching, Stella. Let’s talk about this at home.” “No!” His evasion made me snap. Why could he hold Pamela so tenderly but couldn’t offer me a single word of comfort? My heart ached with a bitter jealousy. I lunged, trying to throw my arms around him. But he caught my shoulders, his voice firm. “Not in public, Stella. Don’t be like this. I…” Before he could finish, Pamela’s voice cut in. “Liam!” She had changed and now ran up to us, linking her arm through his possessively. The sight was a dagger to my heart. A cold, bitter laugh escaped me. “You’re right. We should be careful. Not like your ‘sister’ here, who has no problem cuddling up to you in a towel. I guess she’s not worried about what people will say…” “Stella!” Liam’s voice was sharp with shock and anger. A few passersby started whispering. Pamela swayed, tears instantly streaming down her face. He was truly furious now. His face was a dark mask as he gripped my wrist. “Stop it. It was just a cake, I’ll replace it. Leave Pamela out of this.” His tone was a warning, his grip painful. But the pain in my heart was worse. Seeing him protect her, I forced a smile. “Am I talking nonsense, or did I hit a nerve? I saw you with my own two eyes. She—” CRACK! A sharp sound cut me off. Liam’s voice was ice. “Stella. That’s enough.” 5 I froze. The stinging on my cheek was so sharp it took a moment to register. The tears, however, came instantly, hot and uncontrollable. In all the years I’d known him, Liam had never laid a finger on me. Even when I got into trouble and he took the blame, he was always the one protecting me. I never imagined he would hit me for someone else. A flicker of triumph crossed Pamela’s face. “Liam…” she whispered, pressing a hand to her chest and leaning against him weakly. He caught her, and without another glance at me, turned and walked away. I watched their figures recede until they were just a blur through my tears. In the distance, I thought I heard him let out a soft, weary sigh. From that day on, the rumors flew. Everyone said Liam had dumped me, that I was officially out of the picture. The Blackwood Corporation never mentioned the engagement again. My heart felt like a dead weight in my chest. I found the photo of us from high school on my phone and deleted it. I sent him one last text telling him we were over for good. Then, I packed my bags and left my hometown, moving to the small coastal city of Seabrook. I didn’t go back for years. Until today, when I ran into my aunt, and all the old memories came rushing back. But now, my heart was a placid lake, no ripples of anger or sadness left. My aunt studied my calm expression for a moment. “Stella, dear, are you still mad at Liam? I heard about what happened. You were both young and impulsive. It’s time to let it go, don’t you think?” I gave a faint smile. “It’s long in the past.” The same year I left, Liam and Pamela got engaged. And me? I now had a husband and a daughter. We had no connection anymore. Seeing my nonchalance, my aunt said, “Well, it’s good that you’ve moved on.” “But you know,” she added, “Liam still has a place for you in his heart. He said it himself on his engagement day. If you ever went back to him, he would take you back in a heartbeat.” 6 Take me back? A sarcastic smile tugged at my lips. “Aunt Carol, you didn’t know? I got married two years ago. My daughter is eighteen months old.” “What?” My cousin’s eyes went wide with disbelief. My aunt looked as if she’d been struck by lightning. “But… you were always so in love with Liam, how could you…” The news was so sudden it left them speechless. I took the opportunity. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Sunny.” Sunny was my daughter. When I got back, she was playing in the sandbox in the community garden. Seeing my aunt and cousin, she tilted her head. “Are they here to see Daddy?” “No, sweetie,” I shook my head. “Sunny, this is your great-aunt and your cousin Mike.” “Hello, Great-Aunt. Hello, Cousin Mike,” Sunny chirped. My aunt was still stunned. “This… this is really your daughter?” They didn’t seem to fully believe it until they saw her with their own eyes. I smiled and stroked my daughter’s hair, then went inside. From the back of a drawer, I pulled out a small box and handed it to my cousin. “Could you please give this back to Liam for me?” “For Liam?” Mike asked, curious. “What’s inside?” “Just some old things,” I said calmly. When I’d left home, I had deleted our photos in a fit of anger, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away the little trinkets he had given me. Inside the box was the matching keychain set we’d bought in high school. He’d given it to me on his eighteenth birthday to mark our first year together. Years had passed. He had his life, and I had mine. It was time to give it back. My expression remained placid. Mike didn’t press further. “So, should I tell Liam you’re married?” I paused. “Do what you want.” Seeing the contents of the box, Liam would understand. We were done. My aunt sighed, her face full of regret, as if watching a perfect match slip away. “Stella, are you sure you can let him go?” After all those years, could I really just let it all go? I nodded. “I have no regrets.” Maybe it started as a way to spite him, but my marriage… that was a choice I made with my whole heart. 7 My aunt and cousin left with the box, and I didn’t hear anything for a couple of weeks. Then, Mike sent me a message. He’d given the box to Liam at his birthday party. He said when Liam opened it and saw what was inside, he just froze, his eyes turning red. He’d asked where I was. Mike told him the truth: I was married. A simple sentence that apparently made the great Liam Blackwood stumble back, pale as a ghost, clutching his chest as a cough wracked his body. I never expected him to have such a strong reaction. And I certainly never expected him to come to Seabrook. On a day of heavy snowfall, a tall, familiar figure stood at the entrance to our community, looking utterly alone. Sunny pushed open the lobby door. “Mommy, someone’s here for you!” “Who is it?” I walked out, my eyes inadvertently meeting a pair I knew all too well. Liam was holding an umbrella, his head bowed toward Sunny. When he looked up and saw me, he went rigid. Time seemed to melt away. He was more mature, more handsome than the boy I remembered, but his eyes were the same—as clear as a sky after rain. His lips moved. “It’s been a long time, Stella.” I frowned, knowing I couldn’t avoid this. “Mr. Blackwood,” I said, my tone formal. A reunion of old lovers. One still using a childhood nickname, the other a distant, formal title. A flicker of hurt crossed Liam’s face. He looked down at Sunny. “Is this… your daughter?” he murmured. Sunny, feeling his intense gaze, shyly hid behind me. I picked her up, pretending not to notice the tremor in his voice. “Yes, she is.” Snowflakes settled on the rim of his umbrella. Liam’s face was as white as the snow on the ground, as if all the life had been drained from him. After a long silence, he asked, “Why?” “There’s no why,” I said flatly. “People get married. They have children. It’s normal.” “Normal…” he repeated, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes before he managed a bitter smile. Sunny peeked out from my shoulder. “Mister, who are you?” she asked in her small voice. Liam stared at her, and his eyes suddenly reddened. “I’m… an old friend of your mommy’s.” “Old friend?” Sunny tilted her head, confused. “It means someone she knew a long, long time ago,” I explained. “Oh.” She looked from me to Liam, not understanding why this grown-up looked like he was about to cry. “Stella…” Liam started to say something else, but I cut him off. “You should go.” He froze, watching as I turned and carried Sunny back inside. The snow was falling harder, and I had no intention of inviting him in. He just stood there in the storm for a long, long time. Even after the snow stopped, he was still there, his face completely bloodless from the cold. Not wanting to find a frozen body on my doorstep in the morning, I finally opened the door. “What is it you want?” His gaze locked onto mine, his voice laced with bitterness. “Stella, are you still angry with me? For what happened that day?” The mention of the past made me frown. “It’s over.” “But I can’t let it go,” he said, his voice raw. “These past few years, I haven’t been able to forget.” He looked up, and under the umbrella, the eyes that had once made my heart race were still as deep and captivating as ever. But they no longer had any power over me.

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Ten years. That’s how long I’d been living her life when my sister suddenly came back. The whole family stared at her in stunned silence. She let out a yawn, running a hand through her perfectly messy hair. “Thirteen countries,” she said, her voice dripping with casual exhaustion. “God, I’m beat.” Her eyes scanned the room, a flicker of impatience in them. “Where’s Jake? He must be in elementary school by now, right? Why isn’t he here to see his real mother?” Jake. Her son. The son she gave birth to, only to fake her own death on her wedding day, leaving him and her fiancé behind. The fiancé was from the Stone family—old money, one of New York’s unshakeable dynasties. My parents, terrified of the fallout, decided to solve the problem by packing me, a fresh college graduate, into a wedding dress and sending me down the aisle in her place. For ten years, I had been the perfect wife, the devoted mother. Now, watching my sister stand there, radiating an unshakeable sense of entitlement, I felt my parents’ anxious gaze shift to me. I offered a faint, placid smile. “Jake and his father are in Miami for the weekend.” … At my words, my sister Vera’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you I was coming home? Why didn’t you tell Ethan I was back?” I took a calm, measured sip of my tea. The years had forged me into something new; I was no longer the invisible girl living in her sister’s shadow. My silence seemed to infuriate her. She shot to her feet, her voice sharp and piercing. “Nora Collins! What is that supposed to mean? Don’t you forget, the engagement was with me. Now that I’m back, do you really think you get to keep your place as Mrs. Stone?” I glanced up at her, a small smile playing on my lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vera. My husband and I are very happy.” It was true, in a way. Over the last decade, I had stood by Ethan Stone’s side at countless charity galas and corporate dinners. Our reputation as a loving, devoted couple was cemented in our circle. Ethan himself had leveraged his image as a dedicated family man to win over numerous business partners. There might not have been passionate love between us, but we were bound by something far more resilient: mutual interest. And that was the source of my confidence. Vera’s face twisted in disbelief. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Nora! Have you no shame? He’s your brother-in-law!” I set my teacup down with a quiet click. “No,” I said, my voice even and calm. “He’s my legally wedded husband.” My gaze was steady. I rose from my chair, unwilling to continue this charade. My parents stood by, wringing their hands, utterly lost. Vera whirled on our mother, clutching her sleeve. “Mom, she’s lost her mind! Ethan and I were college sweethearts! If it weren’t for me, if it weren’t for the Stones, how do you think our family’s company would have ever gotten this big?” My parents had always favored Vera. But now, my mother risked a nervous glance in my direction before speaking, her voice barely a whisper. “But… you ran out on the wedding, Vera. You faked your death. We didn’t hear a single word from you for ten years.” “There was no bride,” she continued, gaining a sliver of courage. “If it wasn’t for Nora stepping in, the Stones would have become a laughingstock. They would have ruined us! Our company would have been finished!” Vera’s face froze. “I… I just wasn’t ready to get married,” she stammered. “But I’m back now, aren’t I?” She tried a different tactic. “And you know how arrogant the Stones are. They already looked down on our family, and I was pregnant before we were married. If I’d gone through with it then, they would have tormented me!” My own voice was cold as ice. “Why did you come back?” Vera looked at me as if the answer was obvious. “They’ve accepted you now, so they’ll have to accept me. It’s perfect! If I marry Ethan now, his parents won’t dare treat me poorly. And Jake can finally be with his real mother. It’s better for everyone.” She closed the distance between us in two quick steps, grabbing my hands. Her eyes, the same almond shape as mine, were filled with a guileless sincerity—a naivete born from a lifetime of being spoiled and adored. A cruelly innocent naivete. “You’re free, Nora!” she declared, squeezing my hands. “You can finally go find your own happiness.” I stared into her eyes, my face a mask of stone. She truly believed it. She believed that I, the overlooked younger sister, existed only to sacrifice for her. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I wrenched my hands from her grasp. “I’m perfectly happy with my life, Vera,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “You’re the one who needs to face reality.” With that, I turned and walked out of the house that had never felt like a home. I didn’t know what Vera was feeling, but I could guess it wasn’t pleasant. And I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t give up this easily. I drove back to the Stone residence, a bone-deep exhaustion settling over me. The last few weeks had been a blur of late nights at the office, pushing a new project over the finish line. When my parents’ message—Vera’s back—had arrived an hour ago, my body had gone rigid. I always knew this day might come, but the reality of it still left me breathless. I stepped inside, shrugging off my coat and hanging my bag. My eyes fell on a pair of men’s dress shoes by the door. I froze for a second before schooling my features into a practiced, welcoming smile. “You’re back?” a warm voice called out. I turned to see Ethan. He was dressed in simple black silk pajamas that did little to hide his broad shoulders and trim waist. He was a handsome man—tall, with refined features and kind eyes framed by gold-rimmed glasses. He was frowning slightly, a look of concern on his face. “You look exhausted. Haven’t you been sleeping?” I managed a smile. “Just a lot going on at work. Did you and Jake have a good time?” Ethan closed the distance between us, pulling me gently into his arms. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his warm breath ghosting across my neck. His long fingers traced patterns on my back. “Jake had a blast,” he murmured. “He’s already crashed. The only thing missing was you. We’ll have to go again, all three of us.” His voice dropped lower, a current of intimacy running through it. “I missed you.” I leaned against the warmth of his chest, but inside, I felt a chilling cold spread through me. As his lips brushed the nape of my neck, my body tensed. All I could hear were Vera’s words, echoing in my head. Before, I would have responded to his affection. Tonight, I couldn’t. I pushed back gently, creating a small space between us. “I…” I trailed off, because I felt it—the subtle, instantaneous stiffening of his body. I sensed his displeasure immediately. After a moment’s silence, Ethan smoothly finished my sentence for me. “You’ve been working too hard,” he said with a smile. “Go take a hot shower. You need a good night’s sleep.” He had given me an out. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. I nodded and turned, heading for the stairs. Behind me, the man standing in the shadows watched my retreating form, his expression unreadable, the air around him turning heavy and cold. The next morning, I left for work as usual. Just as I was pulling out of our gated community, I saw a familiar figure. My hands tightened on the steering wheel, my brow creasing. Vera saw my car and darted right in front of it. I slammed on the brakes as a chorus of angry horns erupted from the cars behind me. It was the peak of rush hour. A security guard hurried over, trying to pull Vera away. But she clung to her spot, her voice rising to a frantic shriek. “Nora Collins! Stop ignoring me! How can you live with yourself, sleeping with your own sister’s husband?!” Her shrill accusations drew stares from every direction. I pulled the car over to the side, out of the flow of traffic, and got out. My face was a cold mask. Vera, seeing she had won, flashed a triumphant smile and casually tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s the matter?” she taunted. “Embarrassed? Or are you just scared Ethan will kick you out when he finds out I’m back?” “Vera,” I said, my voice like ice. “You are seriously disrupting my life. This is your final warning. Stay away from me.” She laughed, completely unfazed. “Oh, stop pretending. You’re terrified. You’ve spent your entire life in my shadow, jealous of everything I had. It’s only natural you’d want to take my place.” She took a step closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But here’s the thing about imposters, little sister. They always get found out. I’ll wait right here for Ethan. Once I explain everything, he’ll forgive me. I know he will.” Her eyes gleamed. “And Jake… he’s my son. I carried him. We have a bond of blood that you can never, ever break. You will never replace me.” I said nothing. I just got back in my car. This time, she didn’t stop me. In the rearview mirror, I saw her standing there, a confident smirk on her face. A shiver ran down my spine. Vera had always been a spoiled brat, a giant toddler who threw world-ending tantrums whenever she didn’t get her way. I took a deep breath, trying to force her from my mind. I had spent ten years carefully building this life, this marriage, this career. A divorce wouldn’t just hurt me; it would damage Ethan, too. We were a brand, and our interests were intertwined. But Ethan had the Stone empire to fall back on. I had only myself. Sitting in my office, my mind drifted back. When we were kids, Vera would spend every school break running wild outside. On the first day of a new term, her homework would be untouched. Terrified of being scolded, she would simply take mine. My parents enabled it. Nora’s grades are so good, they’d say. The teachers won’t mind if she doesn’t turn in her homework. But Vera’s different. To protect Vera’s fragile ego, my efforts were hers to claim. After that, I learned to do two sets of homework every holiday. In high school, she dove headfirst into teenage rebellion—dramatically chasing the captain of the football team, getting into fights, and charming her way into every teacher’s good graces. Her grades were terrible, but her personality was magnetic. She had a legion of friends and a safety net for every mistake. I, on the other hand, had to be careful. Every step I took was calculated. In college, she met Ethan at an off-campus music festival. They formed a pop-up band, playing gigs in dimly lit bars. While I was juggling three part-time jobs to pay my tuition, they were on stage, drenched in sweat and spotlight, living out some wild, youthful fantasy. I thought graduation would be my escape. I would save up some money and finally break free from my family. Then came the night Vera stumbled home late, her face caked in heavy makeup, wearing a crop top and shorts that left nothing to the imagination. She was drunk, and she was sick. My parents rushed her to the hospital in a panic. The test results came back. Vera was pregnant. A heavy silence fell over our house in the weeks that followed. While my parents scrambled to handle the crisis, I was busy working every shift I could get to save for my last year of tuition. The only calm person in the house was Vera herself, utterly oblivious to the new life growing inside her. My parents confined her to the house, plying her with nutritional supplements and fresh fruit. A deal was struck with the Stones: once the baby was born and a paternity test confirmed it was Ethan’s, there would be a wedding. The Stones, backed into a corner to avoid a scandal that could tank their company’s stock, reluctantly agreed. The night before the wedding, I took a four-hour train home. The next morning, the limousines arrived. But Vera was gone. All that was left was a swaddled, sleeping Jake and a room full of furious, humiliated Stones. Ethan’s face was like thunder. My parents stood frozen, their eyes darting around frantically until they landed on me like a drowning woman spotting a lifeline. “We have another daughter!” my mother blurted out. “She’s a good girl! She’s never even dated!” “That’s right! Nora!” my father chimed in, his voice desperate. “Your sister’s gone! You have to take her place. There’s no other choice!” I stood there, stunned, my mind unable to process their words. They were already grabbing my arms, trying to drag me into the dressing room to force me into Vera’s wedding gown. I fought back, a cold fury rising in me. The first twenty years of my life had been lived in her shadow, and now they wanted the rest of it, too? Tears of rage and betrayal stung my eyes. For the first time in my life, I broke. I screamed, wrenching myself free. “Why me?! Why do I always have to be the one to pay for her mistakes? It’s always been this way!” My father slapped me, hard. “She is your sister!” I stumbled back, my cheek burning. My mother was sobbing. “What your sister did was terrible, Nora, we know that. But you can’t just stand by and watch our family be destroyed! The guests are all waiting for a bride!” I felt hollowed out, dead inside. “I won’t do it,” I bit out from between clenched teeth. “I will not get married.” No matter how much they begged or threatened, I refused. Finally, in a last, desperate act, I grabbed a fruit knife from a platter and pressed the cool blade to my throat. “If anyone tries to force me,” I whispered, my eyes wild, “I’ll die right here.” Everyone froze. I didn’t know if they were afraid of me dying, or just afraid of the scandal a death would cause. I didn’t care. I was about to graduate. I was so close to being free. The standoff was broken by Ethan. He asked to speak with me alone. They cleared the room. It was just the two of us. Half an hour later, the door opened. I emerged, dressed in the white gown, my face blank. I placed my hand in his. I walked down the aisle with a smile more painful than any tears, and completed the ceremony. Snapping back to the present, I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of my office, gazing down at the city below. It had taken me ten years of clawing my way up to earn this view. A sudden chill ran through me, followed by a pair of arms wrapping around me from behind. I jumped, but the familiar, warm scent of sandalwood relaxed me. “What are you thinking about?” Ethan’s deep voice murmured beside my ear. “I came in and you didn’t even notice.” I smiled. “Just thinking about the investor conference tomorrow.” He turned me to face him, his hands gentle on my shoulders. “I have complete faith in you. Everyone knows how capable you are.” I tilted my head. “What brings you to my office? Isn’t the head office busy?” “Things are quiet. I came to pick you up. And to tell you Jake wants to see that new animated movie tomorrow.” I nodded, my mind elsewhere. Ethan leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. I returned the kiss with a sweet smile. When we got home that night, there was no sign of Vera. Her silence was unsettling. I figured my parents, desperate to protect the family company, had finally decided to lock her down. The past few days had left me mentally and physically drained. I fell into bed and was asleep almost instantly. Sometime in the dead of night, a strong arm pulled me close. I murmured a complaint, my eyelids too heavy to open. The next day, the conference hall was a glittering sea of champagne flutes and influential figures. I moved through the crowd, networking, shaking hands, before finally slipping away to the private lounge in the back for a moment of peace. Jake was sitting patiently on the sofa. His face lit up when he saw me. “Mommy! Are we going to the movies right after this?” I smiled, tweaking his nose playfully. “Of course. When have Mommy and Daddy ever broken a promise to you?” His giggle was a balm to my frayed nerves. Seeing him eased the sense of dread that had been clinging to me all morning. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open to head back out. My eyes landed on a familiar figure across the ballroom, and I froze. Vera was clinging to Ethan’s arm, talking animatedly. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his expression. Then Vera saw me. She pointed a dramatic finger in my direction, her voice a raw, desperate cry that sliced through the ambient chatter. “I’m his wife! She’s a shameless imposter who stole you and our child from me!” In an instant, every eye in the room was on me. The entire ballroom fell silent, as if someone had hit a mute button. The clinking of glasses, the hum of conversation—it all vanished. Dozens of gazes hit me like spotlights. I saw the flicker of shock in the eyes of business partners, the confused whispers among my own employees. Worse, the event photographers had already swiveled their cameras in our direction, ready to capture every micro-expression for public dissection. Blood rushed to my head, then drained away, leaving my limbs cold and heavy. Vera stood beside Ethan, her face a mask of tragic victimhood, tears welling in her eyes. She clutched his arm, her voice choked with sobs but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Ethan, tell them! Tell everyone we were the ones in love! I was just foolish back then, I wasn’t ready… but that doesn’t give Nora the right to steal my life!” A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Who is that woman? I thought Mr. and Mrs. Stone were the perfect couple.” “Did you hear that? She said their son is hers…” “Get this, get this! This is tonight’s headline!” Ethan remained silent. My hand, holding a champagne flute, tightened until my knuckles were white. Vera’s venomous gaze found me. “Nora! You knew about Ethan and me! You knew Jake was my baby! How could you be so opportunistic? Are you that desperate for a man? You’d even steal your own sister’s fiancé just to marry into money!” Her words ignited the room. The whispers grew louder, full of speculation and judgment. I felt their gazes bore into me, dissecting me. It took me a moment to find my voice. “Vera, this is not the place for your theatrics,” I said, my tone dangerously low. “What you’re doing is slander. I can sue you.” She smirked. “Really?” Just then, two figures emerged from the crowd. My nails dug into my palms, but I felt no pain. My parents. They walked forward, and my mother began pleading with me. “Nora, honey, just get a divorce. This marriage was a mistake from the start! Don’t let it ruin your entire life!” My father added, his voice thick with disappointment, “Have you no heart? Your sister has never known hardship. How can you bear to make her watch the man she loves spend his life with her own sister? You’ll… you’ll drive her into a depression!” A sarcastic smile twisted my lips. Who was it that begged me to be the substitute bride? Vera never knew hardship, so I deserved it? My entire life had been ruined by them. At that moment, Ethan stepped forward. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, his voice deep and resonant, cutting through the chaos. “My wife, from the beginning to the end, has only been one person: Nora Collins.” Vera’s face contorted with rage. “Ethan! You… have you forgotten everything we had?” My expression was glacial. “Had?” I repeated, each word deliberate. “What did you have, Vera? Let me say this one more time. This is not a stage for your drama, nor is it a ladder for you to climb.” Vera looked at me as if I’d said something utterly hilarious. “Climb?” she scoffed. “Yes. Or did you not come here because you saw how successful your ‘brother-in-law’ has become and decided you wanted a piece of it?” My words shifted the entire dynamic of the room. A wave of understanding passed over the faces in the crowd. “So the sister is just jealous of the younger one’s success.” “No wonder we’ve never heard that Mrs. Stone even had a sister.” “And those parents… clearly they have a favorite. They’re playing favorites so hard it’s pathetic.” “Making a scene like this today… they were trying to publicly humiliate Mrs. Stone.” Vera was speechless. My parents’ faces grew paler by the second. She gritted her teeth, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Nora! Don’t you dare slander me!” Then she turned her gaze back to Ethan, her eyes filled with a desperate, pleading love. “Ethan, do you really feel nothing for me? Not even a little bit of what we used to have?” The air around Ethan grew dangerously cold. His eyes, sharp and unforgiving, locked onto Vera’s tear-filled ones. He said nothing. Within moments, several security guards were rushing toward us. The head of security, sweating profusely, addressed Ethan. “Mr. Stone, my apologies. This woman claimed she was a relative of Mrs. Stone. That’s the only reason we let her in.” Vera’s eyes darted around warily. “What do you think you’re doing?! I’m Jake’s biological mother! I have a blood tie to this family!” I cut in sharply. “Do you have an invitation to this conference?” My sudden question left Vera momentarily stunned. I pressed my advantage, my voice ringing with authority. “You don’t even have an invitation, yet you come here and cause a scene. Security, please escort her out.” There were too many reporters here. Above all else, the Stone family’s reputation had to be protected. The financial stakes were immense. I watched, stone-faced, as the guards dragged a hysterical, screaming Vera from the ballroom. I let out a slow, shaky breath. Ethan gently squeezed my hand, a silent gesture of comfort. I managed a weak smile in return. The guests, all seasoned professionals, quickly moved on, the drama of a few moments ago already fading into the background hum of business. Ethan led me toward the lounge. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice calm as ever. “The tabloids won’t touch this. Tomorrow’s headlines will only be about what a strong, united couple we are.” He was always so composed. I met his deep, steady gaze and saw not a flicker of lost control. It was the cool, calculating calm of the Stone heir, the man who had long since shed his youthful recklessness. It was terrifyingly rational. A bitter smile touched my lips. Wasn’t that the very reason I’d agreed to this partnership in the first place? Composing myself, I reached the door to the lounge. Ethan paused, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Rest for a bit. We’ll go home together after the conference ends.” I smiled and pushed the door open. The scene inside made my blood run cold. My voice came out as a strangled cry. “Ethan! Jake’s gone!”

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I was meeting a client for a business lunch when I saw my wife, Lily, sitting at the table next to us. With her lover. Right there, in front of me, he was all over her, whispering in her ear while she laughed. They must have expected a scene, an explosion of rage. Instead, I just looked at them, my voice calm. “As soon as the divorce is final, you two can get married.” I decided to set her free. And that’s when she started to regret everything. 1 It was our anniversary. I’d left work early to surprise Lily, waiting for her outside her office building. When she walked out, her face was a mask of surprise, then annoyance. “What are you doing here? I told you I was busy tonight.” “But it’s our anniversary,” I said, opening the passenger door. “I booked a table at our favorite place. I even got you a present…” She didn’t even glance at the gift box on the seat. Her eyes were fixed on me, her voice sharp with impatience. “I don’t have time. I have a networking event, it’s really important. Just go home.” I picked up the box and held it out to her. “You can at least take the gift, can’t you?” It was a bracelet we’d seen in a luxury jewelry store on our honeymoon, a delicate gold band set with twelve diamonds. She had fallen in love with it. I never forgot. I’d been putting money aside for months, just for this moment. I could practically see her reaction—the squeal of delight, her arms thrown around my neck, covering my face in kisses. Instead, she took the box without looking at it and tossed it back into the car. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll look at it when I get home.” Without another glance at me, she turned and scanned the street, as if looking for someone. Just as I was about to ask who, her phone buzzed. A slow smile spread across her lips. She quickly pulled her phone from her purse, shoving the bag into my hands. “Here, hold this for me.” Then she walked over to a quiet corner before answering the call. I watched the radiant smile on her face from a distance, and a sharp, needle-like pain pierced my chest. We’d been together since college, married for five years. Who was on the other end of that line that she had to hide from me? I tore my eyes away from her and zipped up her purse. As I did, my gaze fell on two slips of paper in an outer pocket. I pulled them out. They were tickets to the Azure Springs Resort. The date on them was for last weekend. The confusion sharpened into a cold knot in my stomach. Last weekend, she told me she had to work, to rush a project for a deadline. I’d been the one who told her about Azure Springs, how it was the new hot spot everyone was talking about. We’d been so busy with work for years, we’d barely traveled since our honeymoon. I wanted to take her. I’d cleared my schedule, booked a villa, planned the entire romantic getaway. Then, on Friday, she’d cancelled. Her boss had supposedly sent her on a last-minute business trip. I was disappointed, but I understood. Work was work. But here were the tickets, tucked away in her purse. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a notification from my credit card—the one I’d given her to use. I usually ignored them, but this time, I opened it. There it was: a charge from last Saturday. A couple’s villa at Azure Springs Resort. The total was $5,800. So, she wasn’t working. She had gone to the resort. Just not with me. My hand tightened around my phone. I found the number for the resort’s concierge and, after a bit of persuasion, I got the information on the booking. Of course. It was Ryan. A bitter sense of recognition washed over me. Maybe I should have seen it coming all along. It started with the unanswered calls when she was “on business trips.” The nights she didn’t come home. The way she’d sneak away to take calls… I had chosen to trust her. She had chosen to betray me. 2 Ryan went to the same university as us. He was one of those guys—effortlessly handsome, with a bright, sunny disposition that made him popular the second he stepped on campus. I first learned his name at the annual track and field meet. He was running the 3000-meter race, and a flock of girls was screaming his name from the sidelines. He didn’t disappoint, taking first place with ease. I remember seeing Lily, her eyes glued to him, completely captivated. I was a year ahead of Ryan, so our paths rarely crossed, and I didn’t think much of it at the time. The next time I saw him was years later, at one of Lily’s company parties. I’d gone to pick her up, and he was right there beside her. She was drunk, and his arm was wrapped securely around her waist as they waited by the curb. I walked up and took Lily from his grasp. I thanked him for looking after her, but my tone was clipped. What husband would be happy seeing another man holding his wife like that? Lily, who had seemed barely conscious a moment before, suddenly sobered up. She turned on me, her voice sharp. “What is your problem? Ryan was just helping me stand. Why do you have to be so petty? Always thinking the worst of people.” After that night, the secret phone calls became more frequent. She’d take them on the balcony or lock herself in the bathroom, but never in front of me. Back in the present, standing outside her office, it wasn’t long after Lily ended her call that Ryan pulled up. He was wearing a stylish polo shirt and light-colored trousers, looking every bit the campus golden boy he used to be. Lily’s face lit up as she hurried to his car. Standing there together, him handsome and charming, her beautiful and delicate, they looked like a perfect match. “Lily, sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, before his eyes landed on me. “Leo! You’re here too.” It finally clicked. He was the one she was waiting for. Lily must have seen the look on my face. She rushed to explain, “Don’t get the wrong idea. Ryan and I just have some work stuff to discuss.” I fought down the urge to punch him. “Right,” I said, a cold smile on my face. “Well, don’t let me keep you.” I got in my car and drove off. I only made it to the next intersection before I had to pull over. I slammed my hands on the steering wheel, my head dropping forward, and I just screamed. All the anger, the pain, the betrayal—it all came pouring out in one raw, guttural roar. For years, I had given Lily everything. I was at her beck and call, worshiping the ground she walked on. She had been the campus beauty, and I always felt she had settled for me, that I was lucky to have her. I was terrified of falling short. Whatever she wanted, whatever she liked, if I could get it for her, I would. I shielded her from every problem, shouldered every burden, just so she wouldn’t have to face a moment of hardship. She said cooking fumes were bad for her skin, so I made every meal. She said washing dishes would ruin her hands, so I did all the cleaning. She said mopping hurt her back, so I took care of all the housework. The toilet had a faint smell, so I scrubbed it three times a day to make sure our bathroom was always fresh. My endless devotion had turned into boundless indulgence. She stopped seeing me as a partner and started seeing me as a doormat. She’d call me pathetic, weak. She’d lash out, insult me, and I’d just take it. I told myself it was the stress from her job. I’d apologize and comfort her. I’d blame myself for not being successful enough, for not giving her the life she deserved. Even my friends told me I was putting her on a pedestal, that my groveling was making her treat me with contempt. I defended her every time. Now, sitting in my car, shaking with rage, I knew. My friends were right all along. 3 The clock on the living room wall ticked past midnight. I sat there in the dark, watching the hands go around, and around, and around. On the coffee table was the anniversary cake I had baked myself. She wasn’t coming home tonight. I knew it. I opened the red gift box. Inside, the diamond bracelet I had waited months for glittered under the faint moonlight. I stood up, picked up the cake and the box, and smashed them both on the floor. If the person I was celebrating with wasn’t here, none of it had any meaning. Ping. My phone lit up. It was a message from Ryan. A photo. On the table was a spread of intensely flavored food—spicy crawfish, fried calamari, and right in the center, a steaming durian hotpot. The person across from him was mostly out of frame, but I could see a hand, elegantly holding a wine glass. I knew that hand. It was Lily’s. When we first started dating, she made it very clear that she had a delicate palate. She couldn’t stand anything with a strong smell or flavor, and she forbade me from eating it, too. “I’m telling you, my system is sensitive,” she had said. “I can’t eat or even smell that kind of stuff. If you want to be with me, you can’t eat it either. Got it?” I loved her, so I accepted everything about her. “Okay,” I promised. “For you, Lily, I swear I won’t eat durian, or shellfish, or anything with a strong smell.” For years, I cooked bland, simple meals. I never touched any of my old favorite foods. I even stopped going to the beach, because she hated the fishy smell of the ocean. I remember one time, my neighbor, who was eating durian, bumped into me by accident, smearing some on my shirt. I had a client meeting, so I rushed home to change. When Lily saw the stain, she wrinkled her nose in disgust, backing away from me. “What is that horrible smell on you?” “The neighbor just spilled something on me,” I explained, taking off my shoes. She exploded. “Didn’t I tell you I can’t stand that smell? And you brought it into the house? Now the whole place stinks! Get out, go change outside!” I tried to explain what happened, thinking she might show a little sympathy. But she didn’t care. She just kept yelling. “Why did you even come home? You know I can’t handle it! How can you be so stupid?” I changed my shirt, rushing to get to my meeting, but she blocked the door. “Where do you think you’re going? You need to wash that shirt right now. And don’t you dare put it in the washing machine, it’ll make all my clothes stink. Hand wash it. Now.” I had no choice. I washed the shirt, and by the time I got to my meeting, the client thought I was disrespecting his time and cancelled our contract. That night, when I tried to get into bed, she kicked me out of the bedroom. “You’re not sleeping in here,” she snapped, pointing to the study. “Go sleep in there. You’ve made me feel sick all day.” After that, I avoided strong-smelling foods like the plague. And now, here was this photo. Lily, who acted like a single whiff of durian was a personal attack, was happily digging into a durian hotpot. It turned out her aversion wasn’t to the food. It was to me. With me, it was disgusting. With Ryan, it was a delicacy to be shared. My years of sacrifice were nothing but a joke. Ryan’s photo was a slap in the face, a brutal confirmation of how pathetic and foolish I had been. 4 Lily finally stumbled through the door in the early hours of the morning, reeking of alcohol. She looked up and saw me sitting in the living room. “Why are you still awake?” I looked back at her, my heart a placid lake. “Lily,” I said. “Let’s get a divorce.” Her drunken mind couldn’t process it. “What?” I repeated myself, my voice low and steady. “Let’s get a divorce.” She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. A look of panic crossed her face. “What kind of joke is this?” I was done. I was so tired of this life. “I know about you and Ryan,” I said, my words deliberate. “I know you’re even willing to suffer through a durian hotpot just to be with him. Since that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you. I’ll set you free.” “What are you talking about?” she said, her voice frantic. I pulled out my phone and showed her the picture. Her face paled. “It’s not what it looks like!” she stammered. “Ryan is a client! A really important one! I had to go with him to land the contract, that’s all!” “Stop lying,” I cut her off, my eyes locking onto hers. “You couldn’t discuss a contract over coffee? You, who claims you can’t even smell strong food, can suddenly eat durian with him?” My questions were like cannonballs, demolishing what little composure she had left. She became hysterical. “You’re accusing me? Everything I do is for us, for our home! I work my ass off to give us a better life! It was just dinner! Why are you making such a big deal out of it? There’s nothing going on between me and Ryan! Are you just trying to start a fight?” The audacity, to turn it all back on me. It was like I was seeing her for the first time. I didn’t want to argue anymore. I dropped the final bomb. “Then what about the two tickets to the resort in your purse? Weren’t you on a business trip last weekend? What kind of business trip involves booking a couple’s villa? How long are you going to keep lying to me, Lily?” Her face went ashen. She stared at me in disbelief, stumbling backward until she collapsed onto the floor. “That’s impossible,” she muttered. “I was so careful… how could you know?” “You can’t hide a fire by covering it with paper,” I said coldly. The rage had subsided, replaced by an icy calm. “The evidence is right there. What else do you have to say?” Suddenly, she scrambled across the floor, kneeling at my feet. “Leo, I was wrong! I know I was wrong! Please, don’t say that. Don’t leave me.” Her voice was a desperate sob. “I’ll never talk to him again. As soon as this project is over, I’ll delete him, I swear. We can start over.” “I’ll go on vacation with you,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. “We can stay in a couple’s villa, we can go anywhere you want. Just don’t divorce me, please?” She was a mess of tears and promises. Normally, this would have been enough. The second she cried, I would have folded, forgiven her for anything. But not anymore. I was tired. I pried her fingers from my pant leg, picked up the suitcase I had already packed, and walked to the door. I glanced back to see her crumpled on the floor, her body shaking with sobs. “Lily, my lawyer will draft the divorce papers and send them to you. From now on, you can communicate with him directly.” The meaning was clear: I never wanted to speak to her again. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with despair. “Leo,” she choked out. “Are you really going to be this cruel?” I paused for a half-second, then walked out the door without looking back. All the love I had for her, all the devotion I had given over the years—it had all been burned away by her betrayal. There was nothing left to say. Did she love me? No. I think she was just terrified of losing the fool who had served her for so long. In our relationship, I was always the one giving, the one compromising, while she happily took my money, my love, and my effort for granted. Now, I was done compromising. I was done giving. She wasn’t worth it. 5 “Dude, I’m so sorry. I told you she was no good, but you wouldn’t listen. Poured your whole heart out for her,” my best friend, Mark, said, shaking his head. “Well, screw it. Let’s drink to this. To your freedom, man!” “No one’s holding you back now,” he grinned, gesturing to the feast in front of us. “Eat whatever you want. It’s on me.” To celebrate my newly single status, Mark had taken me to a famous barbecue joint. He’d ordered a mountain of spicy grilled lamb, garlic shrimp, and every kind of shellfish imaginable. I raised my beer and clinked his glass. “Thanks, man.” We sat there, drinking beer and eating skewers, and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely relaxed. In all the years I was with Lily, she never let me go out at night. She claimed she was afraid I’d cheat and bring some disease home to her. I’d promise her it was just a few beers with friends, but she’d fight me on it every time until I just gave up. I’d rush home straight from work every evening, not daring to be a minute late. The double standard was incredible. She forbade me from going out, yet she frequently stayed out all night, coming home smelling of cheap wine. If I ever dared to ask where she’d been, she would fly into a rage, accusing me of not trusting her. So I stopped asking. I just let her do whatever she wanted. Looking back, I had let her walk all over me. “Hey, look!” Mark suddenly exclaimed, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Isn’t that Lily and her boy toy?” I turned my head and my eyes met hers. Lily looked away, flustered. Ryan, however, just gave her hand a reassuring pat and then, unbelievably, led her right over to our table. “Leo, fancy seeing you here,” he said with a smug grin. “I heard you and Lily are getting a divorce. Don’t tell me it’s because of me? Lily and I are just friends. You’re being a little paranoid, don’t you think? Starting fights over nothing.” “You son of a bitch, you’ve got some nerve saying that!” Mark exploded, ready to jump over the table and throttle him. I grabbed his arm and held him back. My gaze flickered down to where Ryan’s hand was still holding Lily’s. She snatched her hand away as if she’d been burned. “Leo,” she stammered, her eyes welling up with tears. “How did you… I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer. Are you still mad at me?” It was her classic move. The damsel in distress. Any other time, I would have immediately surrendered and started comforting her. Now, all I felt was disgust. “If you have questions, talk to my lawyer. He’s handling everything.” Ryan stepped in again. “Come on, Leo. Lily is still your wife. You’re going to be that cold to her? Women are meant to be cherished.” He then pulled Lily to the table right next to ours. He ordered a whole new spread of food and then, right in front of me, he expertly peeled a large shrimp and held it up to Lily’s mouth. The gesture was so casual, so practiced, it was clear he’d done it a hundred times before. Lily glanced at me, watching for a reaction. When she saw my face was completely blank, she deliberately leaned in and ate the shrimp from his fingers, her eyes still on me. But I didn’t care anymore. How could I be jealous of something I no longer wanted? Before, an act like this would have sent me into a spiral of jealous rage. I would have demanded to know what was going on between them. And she would have said the same thing she always did. “It’s for work, can’t you be more supportive?” “Leo, we’re just having a meal, why do you have to be so possessive? He’s just a client. If you mess this up for me, I’ll divorce you.” I’d heard it all before. I would grit my teeth and endure it, watching her be chummy with her “clients,” unable to say a word. Ryan looked at me with open provocation. “Leo, Lily and I have been good friends for years. You don’t mind if we’re a little close, do you?” Lily stiffened, clearly waiting for my answer. I just shook my head. “Do whatever you want. Get close. Check into a hotel. It has nothing to do with me anymore.”

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It was the seventh time in a year that Lucas Kane’s childhood sweetheart, Daphne, had been hospitalized. And he was finally asking me for the one thing I couldn’t give. “I want to give Daphne a wedding first. It’s just a formality, Claire. I hope you can understand.” This was the seventh time he had postponed our own wedding. A bitter smile touched my lips. I nodded calmly. As I was leaving, I heard his precious Daphne ask him in a small, careful voice, “Lucas, we’re already legally married now. She’s not going to make a scene when she finds out, is she?” Lucas stroked her hair, his voice a low chuckle. “She’s easy. A few sweet words and she’ll be fine.” He was so sure. So certain that even after he was a married man, I would still cling to him like a loyal puppy. Waiting for him to get a divorce so I could eagerly take his hand in marriage. I looked down at the photo that had just appeared on my phone screen. I smiled and typed back a reply. 【He’s handsome. Are you free to get married? Like, right now?】 1 The person on the other end was silent for a long time. Finally, a message came through. 【Don’t you want to get to know me a little better first?】 My mother already did. She wouldn’t set me up for failure, would she? I, on the other hand, had spent seven years getting to know Lucas Kane. And all it took was one childhood sweetheart returning from abroad to turn it all to ash. I replied with three words. 【No, I’m good.】 I glanced up at the private hospital suite. Daphne was gazing up at Lucas, her face a picture of innocent, girlish charm. “Thank you, Lucas, for making my wish come true. One month is enough.” “After a month, we’ll get a divorce.” A wave of pain washed over Lucas’s eyes. “Don’t rush it. We’ll talk after you’re better.” “How can this body of mine ever get better? But I don’t want to get in the way of you and Claire.” She didn’t want to get in our way, yet she’d wasted no time getting a marriage certificate with him. But that’s not how Lucas saw it. He shut down her suggestion with a tone that bordered on harsh. “You don’t need to worry about her.” His voice was laced with a casual, almost contemptuous certainty. “I could forget about her for twenty years, and the second I called, she’d come running.” “Oh, good,” Daphne said, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. The warm afternoon sun illuminated their faces, making them glow. Standing outside the door, I clenched my fists, a bitter sting in my nose. I don’t know how I managed to escape the hospital. All I knew was that the moment I breathed in the fresh air, a tearing, shattering pain ripped through my chest. The entrance was bustling with people coming and going. Only I stood frozen, completely lost. A year ago, Lucas’s childhood sweetheart had returned. Not with a roar, but with a whimper. She was sick—an illness they couldn’t cure, but that wouldn’t kill her either. She was kept alive by medication. Lucas was heartbroken. He moved Daphne into a new villa he’d bought, hiring a team of four or five people to care for her around the clock. Daphne had loved tennis before she got sick, so Lucas bought out the villas on either side, tore down the walls, and built her a private tennis court. At first, she wouldn’t accept it, disappearing from time to time. “Lucas, I don’t want to be a burden,” she would say, her brow furrowed with sorrow. “Just let me go.” He would get furious, but he always found her and brought her back. Then came the hospitalizations. Seven of them. And seven times, Lucas stayed by her side, day and night. I used to think he was just a naturally reserved person, that his patience with me was a sign of affection. His profile picture had always been a generic landscape photo, something an old man would use. It took me a month of coaxing just to get him to change it to a matching one with me. The first time Daphne was hospitalized, she mentioned she liked a popular cartoon puppy. Lucas immediately changed his profile picture and his entire social media background to it. The CEO of the Kane Corporation, with a cartoon dog as his avatar. It was so jarringly out of character that our mutual friends all messaged me, asking if I’d forced him to do it again. I couldn’t bring myself to reply. This time, it wasn’t me. It was for her. Each time Daphne was hospitalized, our wedding was postponed. The fifth time, he announced he was going to do a wedding photoshoot with her. It was every girl’s dream, he’d said. And he might be the only one who could ever grant her that wish. He hoped I would understand. I understood. The sixth time, he gave her the engagement ring meant for me. Daphne happened to like that design, he explained. He promised he’d get me a better one later, and hoped I could be generous. I didn’t stop him. The seventh time, he told me he was going to have a wedding ceremony with her. And somewhere along the line, without my knowledge, they had already gotten legally married. He came to inform me, lying that it was all just for show. If that was the case, then all I could do was wish them a lifetime of happiness. I would never, ever be the other woman. Tears blurred my vision. A black sedan pulled up silently in front of me. The rear window rolled down, revealing a face so handsome it made my heart skip a beat. “Ms. Cheng. Get in.” I froze, wiping away my tears. “What are you doing here?” The man’s voice was deep and magnetic. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to get married immediately?” He glanced at the luxurious watch on his wrist. “If we hurry, we can still make it today.” 2 That evening, Christopher Ensler’s car dropped me off at my apartment building. We hadn’t spoken a word the entire ride. I stole a few glances at him. He sat with his hands clasped in his lap, his gaze fixed on the scenery outside the window. His expression was as placid as still water, impossible to read. I figured he was probably being pressured by his family to get married, too. My family background was clean, our parents were old acquaintances, and I wasn’t hard on the eyes. So he didn’t overthink it. He just took me straight to City Hall. I didn’t care if he liked me or not. My mother had vetted him; he had to be reliable. And honestly, I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to go through the whole process of falling in love again. All I wanted was a decent, suitable person to settle down with, to finally give my parents some peace. Lucas’s constant delays had already pushed my parents to their breaking point. They said I was chasing after him and disgracing the family. My father declared that even if Lucas became the richest man in the world, he would never approve. He even threatened that if I insisted on being with Lucas, the family business would go entirely to my younger brother, and I wouldn’t see a dime. My mother, frantic, started setting me up on blind dates, desperate for me to see reason. At the time, I was dead set on marrying Lucas. I ignored every single one of her suggestions. Christopher was the last one she introduced. She told me that if I didn’t take this one seriously, she was done. She would consider herself daughterless. That was right around the time Lucas told me he was doing a wedding photoshoot with Daphne. I had already lost the war in love. I couldn’t afford to lose my family and my career, too. 3 Just as I was about to get out of the car, Christopher, who had been silent the whole way, suddenly spoke. “Take your time packing. I’ll come get you when you’re ready.” My breath hitched. Did he mean he wanted me to move in with him? His chiseled profile was like something carved from marble. My heart skipped a beat. Seeing me stare blankly, he turned to look at me, his tone matter-of-fact. “You should move in with me.” I nodded. I had no reason to refuse. As I opened the door, he called out to me again. “Open up your social media profile.” It took me a second to understand. I had never let him see my posts since we connected. I fumbled with my phone, my fingers clumsy under his gaze, and finally showed him my profile page. “There.” He pressed his lips together, nodded, and let me go. After Christopher drove away, I stared at the red marriage certificate in my hand, feeling a sense of surreal displacement. This little red book, the one I had dreamed of having with Lucas, was now so easily in my possession. The groom wasn’t Lucas. But somehow, it didn’t feel all that different. I opened the door to my apartment and was surprised to see Lucas there. He hadn’t stayed here in a long time, choosing to spend his nights at the new villa with Daphne. This penthouse he’d bought had become my solitary home. He seemed to be in a good mood, a smile playing on his lips. When he saw me, he walked over and handed me an elegant card. I knew it instantly. It was the wedding invitation I had designed for us. When I had excitedly shown it to him before, he had tossed it aside dismissively. “It’s just an invitation. Whatever.” But now, his handwriting was on it. 【Groom: Lucas Kane & Bride: Daphne Ji】 “It actually turned out quite nice,” he murmured, his fingers gently caressing the two names on the cover. “The date is set for next week. It’s short notice, so we’ll just use this design.” He paused, then added, “When we get married, I’ll have a new one designed.” I stared at the invitation. Even though my heart was already dead to him, a familiar sting pricked my eyes. Seeing my silence, Lucas’s good mood began to fade. “What, you’re not happy? If you’re not happy, then just don’t come to the ceremony.” He actually expected me to attend his wedding to another woman. I clutched the invitation, biting my lip hard. A profound sense of helplessness washed over me. “Look, I promise, it’s a fake marriage,” he said impatiently, seeing my stubborn silence. “As soon as Daphne’s wish is fulfilled, we’ll go and register our marriage.” His tone was like he was bestowing a great favor upon me. I kept my head down, not responding to his monologue. Lucas reached for my arm, pulling me toward the living room. “Come on, help me decide on the decor for the venue.” As I jerked my arm away, the paper bag I was holding tore. A stack of documents and a bright red booklet slid out. Lucas’s eyes flickered to the red certificate. The calm mask on his face cracked for a fleeting second. He immediately bent down, snatched up the marriage certificate, and clutched it tightly in his hand. “You found out,” he said. It was a statement, not a question. If he had bothered to open it, he would have known. This wasn’t his marriage certificate with Daphne. But he was too busy watching my reaction to even look. I gave a small, bitter laugh and nodded. “I know. You two are legally married.” Lucas’s lips thinned. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but his voice remained calm. “Well, since we’re already having the wedding, the certificate doesn’t really change anything. You have to go all in, right? You don’t mind, do you?” I said nothing. “We’ll get divorced in a month,” he rushed to explain. “It won’t delay our wedding.” I doubt even he believed that. After the wedding would come the once-in-a-lifetime honeymoon. Then pregnancy, childbirth, raising a child… whatever Daphne wanted, he would give her. I was too tired to argue. I just held out my hand. “Give it to me.” He hesitated, rubbing the cover of the certificate before reluctantly handing it over. “Put it back where you found it. I’ll need it for the divorce.” I ignored him, took the certificate, and walked toward the study. Just before I closed the door, I saw him beaming as he sent a voice message. “See? I told you. She found out and it’s fine. A little sweet talk is all it takes.” I looked down at the invitation in my hand. A mocking smile crossed my face. I tore it to shreds and threw it in the trash. My phone vibrated. A message from Christopher. 【Can you move tomorrow morning?】 【I have a lot of stuff. Why the rush?】 Just a little while ago, he’d told me to take my time. The “typing” bubble appeared for a long time before his message came through. 【Move in the morning. Maldives in the afternoon.】 【For what?】 I asked. He replied: 【Honeymoon.】 4 Around midnight, Lucas left again, summoned by a call from Daphne. I knew he wouldn’t be back until long after their wedding, if ever. I began to pack, sorting through my belongings one by one. I had known Lucas for seven years, been with him for five, and lived with him for four. Every object in this apartment was etched with our memories. The sapphire necklace in my hand was the first gift he ever bought me. My favorite piece of jewelry. I stared at it for a long time before slowly closing the box and placing it on his bedside table. When I first met Lucas, he was a gentleman, but with a sharp, predatory edge. I had just returned from studying abroad and started working at my family’s company. He was my first major business partner. He was three years my senior and already at the helm of the Kane Corporation, while I was still shaking off my student awkwardness. Having seen my share of flashy, arrogant rich kids abroad, I was utterly defenseless against his mature charm. “Ms. Cheng, I’ve reviewed your proposal, but I’d much rather you discuss it with me in person.” “Ms. Cheng, that sapphire is lovely on you. But your eyes are more beautiful.” “Ms. Cheng, relax your wrist when you swing. You’re so tense. Are you nervous?” “Are you nervous because of me?” He was attentive and incredibly perceptive. He knew I loved spicy food and would always book a Sichuan restaurant for our team dinners, except for the times I had canker sores. Then, he’d switch to a Cantonese place so I could eat comfortably. When a disgruntled business partner cornered me in a parking garage, threatening to ruin my reputation, it was Lucas who appeared out of nowhere, saving me and getting me out of there safely. I never found out what he did, but I never saw that man in the industry again. For a long time after, I was terrified to go out alone. He drove me everywhere, dropping everything to accompany me, even waiting patiently for hours while I got my hair cut. He pursued me relentlessly, and I fell fast. He guided me in my career, helping me become a capable executive in my own right. He consumed my thoughts, keeping me up at night. There were so many nights he’d look at me, his eyes dark with desire, and no one could have resisted the man he was then. He told me he didn’t fall easily, but once he loved someone, he would never let go. I didn’t understand what that really meant back then. I later learned that the person he would never let go of was never me. Our story after that was a cliché. The deeper I fell in love, the colder he became. Eventually, everyone was saying that I was the one who couldn’t live without him. I didn’t sleep a wink that night, packing away my life. I sat on the soft carpet, leaning against the bed, scrolling through my phone. I came across a post from Daphne from a few hours earlier. She was wearing a face mask, flashing a peace sign at the camera. 【Trying on wedding dresses tomorrow, but I’m missing a sapphire necklace. What to do?】 Another post meant for me to see. Just as I was about to scroll past, a call from Lucas came in. I stared at the screen for a long moment before answering. “Claire, Daphne is trying on dresses today and she wants to wear a sapphire necklace. Bring yours over now.” A silent, cold laugh escaped me. The memories that had been replaying in my mind all night suddenly felt like a cruel joke. The things you treasure are meaningless to others. I glanced at the green velvet jewelry box on the nightstand. “It’s on the bedside table,” I said coolly. “Come and get it yourself.” I hung up before he could reply. I don’t know why I felt such a sudden urgency, a surge of defiant energy. Without hesitating, I dialed Christopher’s number. He sounded like he was still half-asleep, his voice a low, lazy drawl. “What’s wrong, babe?” I froze. Babe? Did he call the wrong person? “This is Claire Cheng,” I reminded him. His voice was clearer this time. “I know it’s you.” I didn’t press the issue. “Can you come pick me up now?”

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1 The day before my wedding, I was assaulted on my way home. They found me with a shattered spine and a face slashed to ribbons. My fiancé’s family, the Daltons, called off the engagement immediately. My father held my broken body, sobbing, and promised to care for me forever. My brother Joel gathered top surgeons to reconstruct my face. But as I drifted in and out of consciousness before surgery, I overheard their monstrous conversation. “We’ve already crippled Lila and ruined her face so Jenna can marry into the Dalton family,” Joel whispered, doubt in his voice. “Now we’re hiring brutes to violate her? Isn’t this too far?” “What do you know?” my father replied coldly. “Jenna is infertile. I promised to remove every obstacle for her. Lila has a rare fertile constitution. If we don’t break her completely, how will she agree to be a surrogate? Carrying Jenna’s heirs is the only use for her now.” The man I called father, the brother I adored—they were demons in human skin. My world turned to ash. With a steady hand, I called the one man in the capital rumored to have fertility issues—the titan Damien Blackwood. “Do you want a dynasty?” I whispered. “Marry me.” … Joel hesitated. “Dad, Lila’s injuries are severe. Shouldn’t we let the surgeons operate first? We can’t let her be paralyzed for life. Jenna is marrying into the Dalton family the day after tomorrow anyway. Lila’s not a threat anymore. The baby thing can wait…” My father’s face hardened, and the sharp crack of his hand across Joel’s cheek echoed in the quiet room. “You fool! I never planned on letting her walk again. What if we heal her and she runs? What if she escapes where we can’t find her? What becomes of Jenna then?” “And why shouldn’t it be urgent? The Dalton heir had too much to drink tonight and spent the night with Jenna. The Daltons have made it clear: if Jenna produces an heir, they’ll hand over control of the household to her. All these years, she’s had to pretend to be the housekeeper’s daughter. She’s suffered enough. I have to make it up to her.” He continued, his voice softening with concern, but not for me. “And it was Jenna’s first time. She must have been scared and in pain. Have the medical team take good care of her. As for Lila… we’ll keep her fed. A breeding tool doesn’t need legs. A womb is enough.” Joel’s voice dropped to a near-whisper. “But it was Lila’s first time too. And… all those men… can her body even take it?” My father gently wiped a smear of blood from my cheek, his touch a vile mockery of affection. His voice was resolute. “The specialist said Lila is exceptionally fertile. I’ve calculated her cycle. Tonight, we need a guaranteed result. More men… might even mean multiple births. That would secure Jenna’s future even more.” “Tell those men to be thorough. Once the children are born, I might consider fixing her face. A reward from her father… Now, go get the aphrodisiacs. I don’t want her struggling and screaming, attracting unwanted attention.” Beneath the thin hospital blanket, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Jenna wasn’t the housekeeper’s daughter. She was my father’s illegitimate child. My “attack” wasn’t random. It was a meticulously crafted trap, set by the two men I loved most, all to pave the way for their true treasure. It all made a sickening kind of sense now. Why my father brought Jenna into our home the moment my mother was in the ground. Why every business trip ended with two sets of gifts, with Jenna’s always being more extravagant than mine. “Lila, you’re the heiress,” they would say. “Jenna’s had a harder life. We need to take extra care of her.” And I, like a fool, never once doubted them. I thought my family was noble, kind. What a joke. Tears escaped my eyes, tracing fiery paths into the open wounds on my face. The sting made me gasp. My father immediately bent over me, gathering me into his arms, his face a perfect mask of heartbreak. “Lila, you’re awake? Does it hurt? Seeing you like this… it’s tearing my heart out. Don’t you worry, the medical team is here. I’ll have them start the surgery right away. I swear, I’ll make you as beautiful as you were before.” Joel rushed over, motioning for a nurse to bring a syringe. “Don’t be scared, little sister. This is the good stuff, imported. I won’t let you feel another moment of pain.” Their performance was flawless. If I hadn’t heard their conversation, I would have wept with gratitude. I stared at the needle, its gauge thicker than a nail. I knew exactly what was inside. “No,” I managed to rasp. “No anesthetic. The pain… it can’t get any worse. I don’t care.” My father’s eyes welled up with theatrical tears, but his hand closed around the syringe Joel offered. “My sweet, foolish girl. You might not care, but I do. Who has surgery without anesthesia? You’d die from the pain. I’d rather die myself. Think of your mother’s spirit… how heartbroken she would be. Be good, now. It’ll be over soon.” Without another word, he plunged the needle into the vein in my neck. The drug acted fast. A leaden paralysis spread through my limbs, stealing my strength, my voice. “Good girl, Lila,” he cooed. “We’re going to get the doctors now. When the surgery is over, we’ll all go home.” But I knew. They weren’t fetching doctors. They were summoning demons. The stench of sweat and a tearing agony consumed me, and my world faded to black. When I opened my eyes, it was the next day. My father was holding my hand, his eyes red and swollen. “Lila, my poor girl. That monster… I didn’t know he had accomplices. They disguised themselves as doctors to get to you, to finish the job. It’s my fault. I failed to protect you.” Joel stood beside him, his face a mask of grief. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ve already made sure those men were sent to prison. No one will ever hurt you again.” I watched their charade, numb, clinging to one last, desperate hope. “Father,” I whispered, “I’m… highly fertile. Please, can you give me some birth control pills? Don’t make me carry the child of a monster. I’m begging you.” The gentle façade on my father’s face cracked. His expression darkened. “Lila. Those pills are for promiscuous girls who shirk responsibility. You are an Ashford. Our family name is everything. If word got out… what would people say?” Joel chimed in. “He’s right, Lila. You’re so badly injured, and those pills are terrible for your body. We can’t risk it. And if… if you are pregnant, we’ll raise the child. A child is innocent. I’ll be the best uncle in the world. It’ll be nice to have a baby in the house.” How utterly absurd. They didn’t want the world to think I was promiscuous, yet they were forcing me to bear an illegitimate child in secret. Perhaps sensing his harshness, my father’s tone softened again. “Lila, don’t worry. I promise, I will get you the best care and make you whole again.” He paused. “It’s just… the surgical team had a sudden emergency. They had to leave. And I don’t trust anyone else with your face, your recovery. We might have to wait a little while…” I knew what he was doing. He was stalling, letting the optimal window for treatment pass. He wanted me to be permanently crippled, a prisoner in his house, reduced to nothing more than Jenna’s personal incubator. These were the men I had loved and respected my entire life, and their hearts belonged to an illegitimate child. “It’s fine,” I said, my voice flat. “I wasn’t expecting much anyway. I don’t want to be here anymore. Take me home.” But when we arrived, my bedroom was unrecognizable. The familiar linens were gone, replaced by blood-red silk. The walls were covered in celebratory banners and balloons. It was decorated like a bride’s chamber on the eve of her wedding. My eyes scanned the room and landed on my nightstand. The only photograph I had of my mother and me was gone. In its place was a large, framed wedding portrait of Jenna. When my mother discovered my father’s affair, she had locked herself away and, in a fit of grief, burned everything that reminded her of their life together before dying of a broken heart. I had pulled that single photo from the embers of the fire. It was the last piece of her I had left. Jenna appeared in the doorway. Her eyes flickered meaningfully toward my stomach before she linked arms with my father and Joel. “Dad! Joel! You’re back! Thank you for decorating my room, it’s gorgeous. Getting married from here the day after tomorrow… I’ll be the happiest bride in the world.” She held out a crumpled, sodden ball of paper. “Oh, Lila,” she said, her voice dripping with false remorse. “Dad said that since my wedding is a happy occasion, we shouldn’t have any unlucky things around. He asked me to move your mother’s picture to the storage room… but I’m so clumsy. I accidentally dropped it in a bucket of water. Please, don’t be mad at me.” My hand trembled as I took the pulp from her. It was my photo, soaked for so long it had disintegrated into mush. I looked at my father. A flicker of guilt crossed his face before it was gone. “It’s just a picture, Lila. Not that important. What’s done is done. Jenna didn’t mean it.” “And Lila,” he continued, avoiding my gaze, “I know the Daltons broke the engagement with you, but the business alliance between our families must continue. So, I’ve officially adopted Jenna. She’ll be marrying in your place. We’ll let her use your bedroom for now. We can’t have her getting married out of a guest room. Her in-laws would look down on her. It’s all for the future of the Ashford family…” I closed my eyes. “Do as you wish, Father,” I said softly. “I’m tired. I’m going to rest.” As I wheeled myself into the guest room, I heard peals of laughter from downstairs. I guided my wheelchair to the door and peered out. There they were: my father, my brother, and Jenna, huddled together on the sofa, flipping through three thick photo albums, their faces alight with joy. It was a perfect family portrait. The first album was a chronicle of Jenna’s life, from infancy to adulthood, every picture taken by my father or Joel. They had never once taken a photo of me. That’s what professional photographers are for, they used to say. Why would we bother with that? The second album was filled with pictures of the three of them together. So that’s where they went all those times Jenna supposedly went back to visit her “hometown” while they were away on “business.” They were traveling the world together. And the third album… it was filled with photos of Jenna’s deceased mother. The mistress. My father caressed the images, his touch full of a love I had never seen him show my own mother. He pulled Jenna into his arms. “Jenna, my dear, I will treasure these photos of your mother forever. I’ll take them to my grave. I am eternally grateful to her for giving me a daughter as wonderful as you.” “And don’t you worry,” he whispered. “Those men were with Lila all night. She’s definitely pregnant. As soon as that baby is born, I’ll have it brought to you. No one in the Dalton family will ever dare to bully you.” Even Joel looked moved. “I have to thank her too,” he said, “for giving me a sister as amazing as Jenna.” Watching the raw adoration on their faces, the wad of paper pulp in my hand felt like a cruel joke. Mother, you loved the wrong man. You gave birth to the wrong son. And I… I gave my love and respect to the wrong father and brother. Back in the guest room, I reached into a hidden compartment in the nightstand and pulled out a small bottle of pills. My mother had taught me this. She had worried about my fertility, about the dangers of the world. Sometimes, bad things happen that are out of your control, she’d told me. If you can’t protect yourself in the moment, you must do everything you can to mitigate the damage after. I swallowed a pill, then dialed the number for the one man who could help me. The titan from the capital, Damien Blackwood, rumored to be the sole heir to a dynasty, desperate for children. “Do you want a dynasty?” I asked. “Marry me.” The next morning, my father had a lavish breakfast prepared for me, filled with supplements and herbs. I looked down at the spread, a bitter smile on my lips. Every single item was meant to support a pregnancy. He was sparing no expense to pave Jenna’s path to glory. He was about to be sorely disappointed. My father and Joel were supposed to accompany Jenna to her final wedding dress fitting, but she pouted. “Daddy, Joel, you’re men. Your taste isn’t the same as a girl’s. Why don’t we bring Lila along? She can give me her opinion. It’ll show everyone what impeccable taste my sister has, don’t you think?” My father beamed. “Of course, of course! Anything to make my Jenna happy. Lila, you’ll go with them.” He never asked me. He never considered the courage it would take for a disfigured girl in a wheelchair, her body a canvas of fresh trauma, to step out in public. The stares were like a thousand tiny knives. But he didn’t care. Only Jenna’s happiness mattered. At the exclusive bridal salon, the staff fawned over Jenna. “It’s the Crimson Rose of New York City! An Ashford heiress, just as beautiful as they say. What a face, what a figure! You must be so proud to have a daughter and sister like her.” Then they saw me. They recoiled, their faces twisting in disgust. “My God, who is that… that cripple? That hideous thing? Look at her face, it’s disgusting. I’m going to have nightmares. How dare she show herself next to Miss Ashford? It’s like beauty and the beast, hahaha…” “So unlucky. Imagine having the nerve to go out in public looking like that. She’s tainting the floor. We’ll have to disinfect everything after she leaves.” The whispers grew louder. Jenna shot me a triumphant smirk. Of course. This salon, normally known for its quiet, luxurious privacy, was swarming with staff today. It was her doing. She wanted me to suffer this humiliation. My father and brother didn’t defend me. They were too busy basking in the glow of the compliments directed at Jenna, smiling with pride whenever someone called her the Ashford heiress. Jenna tried on more than a dozen gowns. She never once asked for my opinion. My father, unwilling to see her struggle to choose, simply waved his hand and bought them all, including several one-of-a-kind creations by world-renowned designers. But that wasn’t enough for her. She pouted again. “The dresses are beautiful, but I don’t have enough jewelry to match all of them…” Joel immediately had dozens of jewelry sets brought in. Nothing was worth less than seven figures. The most expensive piece, a flawless pink diamond ring, was valued at over two hundred million dollars. It was all for Jenna’s dowry. On top of that, my father produced a stack of property deeds and stock transfer certificates, all to be added to her wedding gifts. The purchase dates on the properties were from twenty years ago. He had been planning this for decades. I glanced down at the simple ring on my hand. It was worth a few thousand dollars, a gift from my mother when she was still alive. It was the only piece of jewelry I owned. She had wanted to start a dowry for me, but my father had stopped her. “Lila’s still young,” he’d said. “Buying her such expensive things now will spoil her. A cheap little thing to play with is fine. We can talk about real jewelry when she actually gets married.” When my engagement to the Daltons was announced, they never mentioned a dowry for me. The Daltons had been furious, calling me a calculating gold-digger. Jenna squealed with delight, planting kisses on my father’s and Joel’s cheeks. “I knew it! Daddy and Joel love me the most! But… won’t giving me all these wonderful gifts make Lila angry?” Only then did they seem to remember I was there. My father cleared his throat. “Lila, don’t overthink this. Jenna is an Ashford now. If we don’t provide a substantial dowry, the Daltons will laugh at us. When you get married, we’ll…” Jenna cut him off. “Daddy’s right! And I can’t possibly wear all these dresses. Why don’t I give one to my sister? I know she’ll probably never get to be a bride now, but she can hang it in her room and pretend. It’ll be fun! I’ll take her to try one on right now.” My father’s face filled with pride. “See? My Jenna is so generous and thoughtful. Lila, you’re lucky to have a sister like her. Go on, you two.” Before I could refuse, Jenna grabbed the handles of my wheelchair and pushed me into a fitting room. She dismissed the staff, and the moment the door clicked shut, her hand flew out, smacking me hard across the face. “Lila Ashford, who do you think you are?” she hissed, her face a contorted mask of rage. “You’re used-up trash, a broken toy they let others play with. Crippled, disfigured, and you still have the audacity to want gifts from my father and brother? You are pathetic.” “Let me make this crystal clear. Your fiancé is mine. Your father’s heart is mine. Your brother’s love is mine. They destroyed you for me. They let those men violate you for me. You used to be so high and mighty, didn’t you? The ‘Crimson Rose of New York City’? What a joke. Look at you now. You’re nothing but a breeding machine to help me secure my position with the Daltons.” Her voice dripped with venom. “We’re both his daughters. Why did you get to be the precious heiress while I had to hide in the shadows, the dirty little secret? I hated it!” “And I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. There’s nothing wrong with my body. The infertility was a lie I told to manipulate them. I wanted to ruin you, to take your place, to claim everything that should have been mine. So you just focus on growing that little bastard in your belly. After it’s born, I’ll arrange for a little… accident. And then I’ll have Dad find more men to keep you company. Hahahaha…” “Oh, and you probably don’t know this,” she sneered, pulling out her phone. “Dad and Joel installed a hidden camera in the operating room. They were afraid I’d be bored, so they live-streamed the whole night to me. Tsk, tsk. It was quite a show. I bet I could sell the footage online for a pretty penny.” She showed me the screen. The images, the sounds… I was plunged back into that nightmare, my body shaking uncontrollably. Why? Why would my own father and brother do this to me? I lunged, trying to snatch the phone, but she stepped back, laughing. She grabbed a decorative vase from a nearby pedestal and smashed it on the floor. Then, with a defiant smirk, she picked up a shard of porcelain. The next second, she dragged the sharp edge across her own arm. A line of red welled up, and she let out a piercing scream. My father burst into the room. “Jenna! What happened? You’re bleeding!” He wrapped his arms around her, his eyes immediately flying to me, full of accusation. Joel was more direct. He stormed over and kicked my wheelchair over, sending me sprawling to the floor. “Lila! Did you do this to her?!” Before I could speak, Jenna burst into tears. “I… I just wanted to ask Lila to be my maid of honor… but she said I stole her fiancé and she was going to ruin my face so I could never get married! I put my arm up to block her… Daddy, I’m so scared! Just because I was born illegitimate, does that mean my own sister gets to treat me like this?” My father’s voice was ice. “Who said you’re illegitimate? You are the rightful heiress of the Ashford family. Some venomous, evil-hearted woman is the one who doesn’t deserve to be my daughter!” Joel glared down at me. “Lila, you’re the one who failed! You were careless, you got attacked, and you got the Dalton engagement canceled! You brought shame on this family! What does any of that have to do with Jenna? She stepped up to save our family’s alliance with the Daltons, and you repay her by trying to disfigure her? What right do you have?!” I laughed, a broken, hollow sound, and then the tears came. “I failed? Why was I attacked? Why was I defiled? Do you dare tell the truth?!” My father scowled. “What truth? The truth is you had a stroke of bad luck that nearly ruined this family’s future! We’re not even holding the bastard in your belly against you, and this is the gratitude you show? Stop making excuses and apologize to Jenna right now!” This was my father. The man whose blood ran in my veins. My heart died. I reached for a piece of the broken vase and, without hesitation, dragged it across my own ravaged cheek. The wounds, not yet healed, tore open again, blood streaming down my face. “Lila, you—” My father and Joel stared, their eyes wide with shock. “Mr. Ashford, you’re right,” I said, my voice dripping with scorn. “The great Miss Ashford is a selfless saint. How could I possibly harm her? My deepest apologies. I’ve repaid her tenfold now. Are you satisfied?” I dropped the shard and righted my wheelchair, pushing myself out of the room. Hearing me call him “Mr. Ashford” seemed to rattle them, a flicker of panic in their eyes. But they didn’t follow me. They rushed to Jenna’s side, scooping her up and racing for the hospital. The exhaust from their car billowed in my face, choking me, making my eyes stream. So be it. From this day forward, we were strangers. My father flew in a team of elite plastic surgeons from Europe to ensure the scratch on Jenna’s arm wouldn’t leave a scar. He hired an internationally acclaimed makeup artist to make her the most beautiful bride imaginable. The next day, my phone rang. It was him. “Lila, how’s your face? We were wrong yesterday, we shouldn’t have said those things to you. But it’s Jenna’s wedding day. If her face were scarred, it would be difficult to explain to the Daltons. You just rest and focus on the pregnancy. Be a good girl and have the baby, and I promise I’ll take care of both of you.” “And don’t worry, Jenna’s fine. She’s already forgiven you. She still wants you to be her maid of honor. Joel’s on his way to pick you up. After the wedding, I’ll find someone to fix your face. I’ll make you beautiful again, just like before.” Even now, after everything, he still saw me as nothing more than an incubator for Jenna. “Okay, Father,” I said. “I understand.” “That’s my good girl. See you at the wedding.” I hung up the phone, a cold smile touching my lips as I wheeled myself out of the Ashford mansion for the last time. My dear father, my beloved brother. Let’s hope we never meet again in this lifetime. At the wedding reception, my father found himself thinking of my blood-streaked face from the day before, a strange unease settling in his stomach. He turned to his assistant. “I bought Jenna a hundred vials of that expensive scar cream yesterday. Go get one and give it to Lila when she arrives.” Just as he finished speaking, Joel burst into the hall, his face pale as death, clutching his phone. “Dad,” he gasped. “Lila knows everything we did to her. She’s gone!”

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He dumped me again, all because I couldn’t get him the limited-edition sneakers he wanted for his birthday. “Not enough cash? Why didn’t you just pick up a few extra shifts? Don’t make excuses for being lazy!” “Is this cheap crap all you think I’m worth?” “You never really cared about my birthday, did you?” “We’re done!” He took a pair of scissors and shredded the sneakers I’d spent three months working three part-time jobs for, sleeping only four hours a night. Then he threw the mangled pieces at me. The flying laces whipped across my face, leaving a stinging, hot welt. A wave of exhaustion, deeper than anything I’d ever felt, washed over me. “Fine,” I said. “We’re done.” And just like that, the comments popped into my vision again, scrolling across the air like a live feed only I could see. `OMG, babe, don’t break up with him! You’re his whole world! Look at him, he’s totally falling apart just hearing you say that!` `He’s just deeply insecure!!! He needs you to prove you love him through your actions! I bet you anything he’s gonna sneak back later and pick up those shredded shoes and treasure them forever!` `Yeah, he threw them at you, but trust me, his heart is bleeding. The pain he feels inside is a million times worse than the sting on your cheek!` 1 Right. He was always so insecure. That’s why he had to test me, over and over, just to prove to himself that my love was real. He loved watching me sacrifice for him. My family isn’t wealthy. To afford those sneakers he “had to have,” I was either in class, at a job, or on my way to another job. Four hours of sleep was a luxury. The moment my eyes opened, it was time to work again. I was so tired I felt like I could fall asleep standing up. To save every penny, I lived on practically nothing. A cheap granola bar for breakfast. For lunch, I’d get a cup of instant ramen from the campus store and use the free hot water from the dining hall. I couldn’t even bring myself to splurge on a ten-dollar jar of peanut butter to make the ramen taste less like cardboard. Asher would sit across from me in the bustling dining hall, his tray loaded with a gourmet burger from the grill, a side of sweet potato fries, and a vibrant kale salad. He’d even have a fancy bottled iced tea. The first time he saw me slurping my bland, watery noodles, he frowned. “God, why are you eating like you’re homeless?” But then a slow, pleased smile spread across his face as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Actually, this is good. Girls look better when they’re thin anyway. Keep it up.” I thought he’d at least show a little pity. But hearing that, a chill went down my spine. That’s when the comments first appeared. `Don’t be sad, sweetie! He’s hurting for you on the inside! He’s just addicted to the feeling of being loved and sacrificed for.` `Don’t blame him! He never had any love growing up, so he’s forcing himself to watch you suffer just to feel your love a little longer. You have no idea how hard this is for him. Aww, my poor baby, I just want to give him a hug.` So, during lunch, Asher would meticulously eat his three-course meal while watching me, with a look of pure contentment, choke down my ramen. The savory smell of his burger drifted over, making my mouth water uncontrollably. I’d have to swallow hard to keep from drooling. He never offered me a single fry. `OMG, I’m living for this!!! The angst! His girl is eating ramen every day just to save up for his birthday gift. Who’s shipping this as hard as I am?!` 2 There was another time. I worked late every night, coming home to the small off-campus apartment we shared. To save on bus fare, I got a cheap monthly pass for the city’s bike-share program. Rain or shine, I was on that bike. One night, my shift didn’t end until 2 AM. I was dragging myself home, completely exhausted. I was so tired, I felt like I could literally fall asleep while pedaling. And then, I did. One moment I was yawning, the next, I was flying over the handlebars and into a ditch on the side of the road. I was a mess of scrapes, bruises, and torn clothes. A couple of drivers saw it happen and pulled over. They were horrified and called 911 for me. While we waited for the ambulance, they kept me calm. “Hey, kiddo, you okay? My God, what are you doing out on a bike this late? It’s not safe for a young woman to be out alone.” It hit me then that I was usually terrified of the dark. The first night I had to bike home that late, with only the occasional car and my own shadow for company, I was shaking. But the thought of getting Asher that gift had somehow pushed the fear away. When I tried to get up, they stopped me. “Don’t move, don’t move! You could have a fracture. Just wait for the paramedics.” “You look like you’re just a college kid,” one of the women said kindly. “Should we call your parents?” The kindness of these strangers made my eyes well up. But when Asher finally arrived at the hospital and saw me, patched up with gauze and antiseptic cream, a flicker of concern crossed his face before it was replaced by pure anger. He lit into me immediately. “Can you stop causing trouble for one second? Is that all you know how to do, make my life harder?” “Do you have any idea that I have a midterm tomorrow? If I fail because of this, are you going to take responsibility?” “If you can’t handle the job, then just quit!” Strangers gave me comfort. My boyfriend gave me blame. The unfairness of it all was overwhelming, and tears started streaming down my face. And then, the comments were back. `Don’t cry, baby girl! He’s just saying the opposite of what he means! He’s super worried about you! Using the exam is just an excuse because he’s so scared for you. In his heart, you’re more important than any test!` `That’s just how guys like him are, all tough talk and a soft heart. The meaner he sounds, the more he cares! It’s a fact!` `You don’t even know, babe. Every night you come home late, he stays awake, waiting. He can’t sleep until he knows you’re home safe. When you see him ‘sleeping,’ he’s just pretending so you don’t feel bad.` `He loves you so, so much. He just doesn’t know how to show it.` But I really didn’t get it. If he was so worried about me biking home alone, why didn’t he ever offer to pick me up? And if I was the person he loved most in the world, why did he get so much pleasure from seeing me suffer for him, as if my pain was the ultimate proof of my love? 3 After the breakup, I moved back into my dorm. I never wanted to move in with him in the first place. When I’d initially hesitated… His face had darkened, his lips thinning into a hard line. “Why not? You don’t want to be with me every day?” I tried to explain. “No, it’s not that, I just think it’s… not a good idea right now.” “So being with me is a ‘bad idea’? Fine. If that’s how you feel, let’s just break up.” He just stood there, his fists clenched, his face pale, looking like he might shatter into a million pieces. I remembered when we first started dating. He’d held me tight and told me about his past. “When I was a kid, my mom had an affair. She divorced my dad to be with the other guy, and she didn’t want me.” “My dad, he saw her in me. It soured things. Then he remarried, had other kids. His new wife hated me, which just made him hate me more.” “I’ve never really been loved,” he’d whispered. “So I’m insecure, I’m awkward, I’m sensitive. I don’t know how to love someone properly. If we fight, I might say things I don’t mean. I hope you can be patient with me then. Just… be the one to make up with me. I’m easy to win over, I promise.” Back then, my heart ached for him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, looked him straight in the eye, and said with all the sincerity I had, “It’s okay. No one loved you before, but I’m here to love you now.” Slowly, he got used to being loved. But he never learned how to love back. The days without Asher felt… light. Unbelievably light. No more juggling school and three jobs. I could sleep a full eight hours. I could focus on my studies, hang out with my roommates, go to the mall. The only downside was how often I ran into Asher and his crew on campus. And the fact that seeing him still sent a pang through my chest. I’d remember the way he’d tilt his umbrella over me in the rain, or the time I woke up from a nap in the library with his jacket draped over my shoulders… 4 One afternoon, his friend Leo called me, his voice frantic. “Summer! Asher wrecked his bike! We’re at the bottom of the canyon roads, you need to get here now!” He hung up before I could ask anything. I knew Asher loved his custom motorcycle. I also knew he loved the adrenaline rush of racing people on dangerous roads. My mind instantly flooded with images of him, bleeding out on the asphalt. The string of logic in my brain just snapped. I ran out, desperate to get to the canyons. On my way, I was so frantic I almost got hit by a car. The bumper was inches from me—inches from death. The driver laid on the horn and cursed at me. I’d fallen, and the rough pavement scraped my hands and knees raw, embedding bits of gravel into my skin. The sting was sharp, but I barely felt it. I just picked myself up, mumbled an apology to the driver, and flagged down a cab. When I finally got there, I realized I was a complete joke. Asher was standing there without a scratch on him. His friend Leo was smirking. “See? Told you. The second she hears you’re hurt, she comes running.” “Whoa, looks like you took a tumble on your way here. See, Asher? I told you she’s not over you.” Asher’s eyes drifted to the bloody scrapes on my knees. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards—his telltale sign of a good mood. Leo nudged me. “Look, since you obviously still love him, just apologize and get back together. Stop playing games before you lose him for good.” “Asher’s a hot commodity,” another guy chimed in. “If you keep up this drama, some other girl is gonna snatch him up.” The comments were going crazy. `Babe, just apologize to him! You know his pride will never let him do it first. You have no idea how that psycho Diana has been all over him since you two broke up.` My eyes instinctively flicked to Diana, who was standing next to Asher. His childhood friend. It was common knowledge in their circle that she’d asked him out 99 times and been rejected every single time. Her 100th attempt was cut short because Asher and I had just started dating. The deafening roar of a motorcycle engine cut through the tension. I noticed another group of guys there, a rival crew. The leader, a guy with streaks of electric blue in his hair, looked at us impatiently. “Asher, you done with your little soap opera? I don’t have all day. We racing or what?” But as his eyes scanned the crowd, they landed on me, his gaze aggressive and unsettling. Asher snapped back to the moment, swinging a long leg over a sleek, powerful-looking bike. “Let’s go!” The blue-haired guy’s eyes glinted with malice. “How ’bout we make this interesting? That your girl?” He jerked his chin at me. “For this race, we each take a passenger. You take your girlfriend, I’ll take mine. If I win…” he pointed a finger at me, a sleazy grin spreading across his face, “…your girl spends the night with me.” He shrugged. “Of course, if you’re too scared to play, just say so.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Asher agreed, his voice dripping with arrogant confidence. “You’re on. Let’s see you try.” He turned to me, his eyes shining. “Trust me,” he said. “I won’t lose.” My blood ran cold. It took me a long moment to find my voice. When I did, it was firm. “I’m not doing it.” The comments exploded. `Summer, what are you doing?! He’s definitely going to win! How can you not trust him? Ugh, now you’re just gonna hurt his feelings.` `If you don’t go, you know that snake Diana will! He loves YOU, how can you reject him like this?!` `No trust at all! She doesn’t deserve his love! Get lost, you idiot!` I could only laugh bitterly. He loves me? So he uses me as a bargaining chip in a race? Isn’t the foundation of love supposed to be respect? He wasn’t even treating me like a person, just an object to be won or lost. Did he even stop to think about what would happen to me if he lost? Asher’s face clouded over. Diana immediately seized the opportunity, shooting me a triumphant look. “She won’t? I will! Asher, I trust you completely!” Asher shot me one last, cold glare. “Don’t regret this.” The prize had been swapped. The blue-haired guy looked Diana up and down, looking less than thrilled. Asher’s tone was sharp. “We playing or not? If not, get lost.” The guy reluctantly agreed. The second before the race started, Asher looked at me one last time, his eyes full of disappointment. Then, with a thundering roar of engines, they were off. The bikes tore down the winding, treacherous canyon road. Two hundred kilometers an hour, weaving through hairpin turns. The others were watching, thrilled by the danger. I had no desire to see the rest. As I turned to leave, Leo blocked my path. “Where are you going?” he sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving now.” He feigned a look of realization. “Oh, I get it. First, you refuse to ride with him. Now you’re jealous seeing Diana’s arms wrapped around his waist while they race together? You can’t have it both ways, you know.” I looked coldly at the arm barring my way. “Move.” He just shrugged. “I’ll move when Asher’s race is over.” I nodded slowly. “Okay. You won’t move.” 5 I pulled out my phone and aimed the camera at Asher’s speeding motorcycle. Leo watched me, confused. “What, you gonna tattle on him?” He scoffed. “Oh, I see. You’re filming Diana hugging him so you can hold it over his head later. You women are so petty.” Seeing that I wasn’t trying to leave anymore, he turned his attention back to the race. A few minutes later, Asher screeched back to the starting line, having left his opponent in the dust, executing a perfect, stylish drift. His friends erupted in cheers. Diana clung to him, her face flushed with excitement. “Asher!!! We won!” Over the whoops and hollers, her voice was piercingly loud. “As my prize for winning, can I get a kiss?” “Kiss her! Kiss her!” the crowd chanted. “Kiss her!” Amidst all the chanting, Asher looked directly at me. Then, without hesitation, he lowered his head, tilted Diana’s chin up, and kissed her deeply. Diana threw her arms around his neck, kissing him back passionately. It was a hot, messy kiss, and I could have sworn I saw a string of saliva connecting their lips when they finally broke apart. The comments practically leaped off my screen, trying to shield my eyes. `Babe, don’t look! It’s not real! I swear he has zero feelings for Diana, he’s just trying to make you jealous! You’re the one he loves!` `You can’t really blame him. Diana did help him win. It would have been super embarrassing for her if he rejected her in front of everyone. You have to see it from his side, too.` Seeing him kiss another girl did hurt. A little. A tight, prickly pain in my chest. But mostly, it was clarifying. A man who would kiss another woman right in front of my face, just to spite me? I didn’t want him. If he was willing to do this just to make me angry, what would he do if he got even angrier? Sleep with someone else to teach me a lesson? The thought made me sick to my stomach. We were out in the middle of nowhere, miles from campus. Getting a ride-share out here would be nearly impossible. As if to punish me, Leo said, “Hey, Summer, since you don’t like motorcycles, looks like we can’t give you a ride. Guess you’ll have to walk back. Or, hey, if you’re not scared anymore, you could ask Asher if he’ll take you.” Asher’s voice was ice. “I won’t.” Leo grinned. “Well, that’s too bad. It’s a two, maybe three-hour walk. Good luck.” Suddenly, a new voice cut in. “That’s alright. She can get a ride with us.” Leo whipped his head around, annoyed. “Who the hell are—” He stopped short when he saw several state troopers in their reflective vests walking toward them. “Illegal modification of vehicles, reckless driving, and illegal street racing,” the lead trooper said calmly. “You’re all coming down to the station.” Leo’s eyes widened in realization. “Summer! You called them, didn’t you! You little—” “You little what?” the trooper interrupted, stepping in front of Leo. “Still trying to threaten people right in front of me? You think I’m invisible?” Leo clammed up immediately. In the end, some of them were detained, and everyone got a hefty fine. I just gave a witness statement and was allowed to leave. Asher was one of the ones they held overnight. The comments were heartbroken. `The heroine is so cruel! She actually got the hero thrown in jail!` `And the idiot is still happy about it! He thinks she only reported him because she was jealous of him and Diana. My poor, poor boy.`

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The notification blew up my phone right as I was cleaning up the last of the glitter from art time. Caden’s mom, Jessica, was tagging me in the preschool’s parent group chat. A dozen rapid-fire voice memos followed. 【Ms. Miller, what is the meaning of this? Why isn’t there a single picture of my Caden in today’s photo dump?】 【Did someone else bribe you? Every other kid is in there. Are you deliberately singling out my son?】 【You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I will report you to the state licensing board. You’d better give me a damn good explanation, or this isn’t over!】 The “Little Sprouts Academy Parents” chat immediately lit up. 【Huh? That’s weird, she’s right. No Caden.】 【Is this, like, a passive-aggressive way of asking for a ‘teacher appreciation’ gift? Kinda shady…】 My heart hammered against my ribs. I quickly typed a reply, tagging Jessica. 【Hi Jessica, Caden wasn’t in school today. You called him in sick this morning, remember?】 1 I knew Jessica was going to be a handful from the very first day of school. Before we opened the doors, our director, Mr. Harrison, gave us the annual pep talk. “Remember, every year we get a few… challenging parents. Just keep your cool, be professional, and de-escalate at all costs.” I thought I was prepared. I was not. Caden arrived with an entire entourage: Mom, Dad, and both sets of grandparents. Jessica, with the air of a queen presenting her heir, handed Caden over to me. “Ms. Miller,” she said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “As you can see, Caden has a little bit of a cold.” My internal alarms went off. A classroom of three-year-olds is a petri dish. One cold can take out the whole class for a week. “Oh, dear. Maybe it would be best for him to rest at home today?” I suggested gently. Jessica’s face soured instantly. “Are you trying to get out of doing your job? We paid our tuition for the month. We’re not losing a day just because you want one less kid to watch.” I held up my hands placatingly. “That’s not it at all, I promise. It’s just that if he’s not feeling well, he’d be more comfortable at home. Plus, it’s our policy to prevent spreading germs.” A sly smile crept onto her face. “Oh, it’s not a cold cold. It’s just his allergies. He gets a runny nose. Anyway, that’s not what I needed to talk to you about.” I nodded politely. “Okay, well, welcome to Little Sprouts, Caden.” I turned to lead him inside, but she clamped her hand on my arm. “Hang on, I’m not finished.” “Yes?” She narrowed her eyes. “Like I said, his nose is running, and it makes him uncomfortable. I expect you to clear it for him every hour.” “Of course,” I said. “We have plenty of soft tissues and saline spray—” “No,” she cut me off. “Tissues are full of bleached paper pulp and harsh chemicals. They’ll irritate his delicate skin. I want you to use your mouth to suck the snot out.” 2 My brain short-circuited. I must have misheard. I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. Her eyes bugged out. “What’s with that look? Are you too good for that? Are you disgusted by my child? Let me tell you something, a child’s mucus isn’t dirty! It’s pure! It’s all-natural! I’ll even pay you for it. Five bucks a day for the extra service.” I wanted to scream. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, but Mr. Harrison’s voice echoed in my head. De-escalate. I forced a tight, pained smile. “Jessica, we have a strict policy against that kind of… physical contact with the children. I absolutely cannot do that.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, we don’t care about that rule. I’m his mother. I’m giving you my official authorization to suck my son’s snot.” I felt bile rise in my throat. “I’m sorry, but that is a request I cannot fulfill. You are welcome to come in every hour and do it yourself.” She rolled her eyes as a few other parents, who had overheard the entire exchange, gasped. “Are you for real?” one dad muttered. “If you think his snot is so pure, you suck it! Why would you ask a teacher to do that?” “Yeah, who do you think your kid is, Prince George?” another mom chimed in. “If you’re so worried about paper towels, send him with silk handkerchiefs!” Flushed with embarrassment under the weight of everyone’s judgment, Jessica finally backed down. “Fine! Be that way,” she snapped. “I don’t know why you’d turn down an extra five bucks a day on a preschool teacher’s salary. I guess you can’t appreciate a holistic approach to childcare.” She then turned her back to me. “Just take good care of Caden. And I expect photo updates in the group chat throughout the day.” With that, she stormed off. I took Caden’s hand to lead him to the classroom. He promptly wiped a long, green streamer of snot from his nose onto the back of my hand. “Caden, honey,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “We use tissues for that. We don’t wipe our noses on people. It’s not polite.” He stuck his tongue out at me. “Nuh-uh! Mommy says tissues will hurt my nose! I’m using your hand!” He then yanked his hand away, ran across the playground, and snatched a basketball from a little girl. I separated the two crying toddlers and returned the ball. A second later, my phone buzzed. A new picture in the group chat, from Jessica. It was a photo she must have snapped from the parking lot. Jessica: 【Ms. Miller, what is this? So other kids can play with the basketball, but my Caden can’t?】 3 I took a deep, steadying breath. It was going to be a long year. I replied: 【Jessica, another child was playing with it. We can’t snatch toys from our friends.】 Jessica: 【She’s a girl. What’s she doing with a basketball? That’s a boy’s toy. He was just taking it back. What did he do that was so wrong?】 I typed quickly, hoping to end the conversation. 【Jessica, as it says in the welcome packet, children can bring a toy from home for outdoor time. If you’d like Caden to have a basketball, you’re more than welcome to send one with him. But snatching is not okay. My job is to intervene when I see that behavior. I’m sure you wouldn’t want another child to snatch something from Caden, right?】 I silenced my phone and led the kids inside. The first day was chaos. A room full of crying three-year-olds. My two co-teachers and I were so swamped we didn’t even get to eat lunch. Just as I finally got the last child down for a nap, my brain buzzing from the constant noise, Mr. Harrison appeared at the door. “Sarah, can I see you in my office? I’ve received a complaint.” I felt like a deflated balloon. In his office, Mr. Harrison looked grim. “Can you tell me what this is all about?” He turned his monitor toward me. It was a long, formal complaint emailed directly to him. The sender: Jessica. She accused me of having a “hostile and discriminatory attitude” toward her and her son. The language was inflammatory, claiming I was unfit to be an educator. She demanded a formal, in-person apology, or she would take this to the licensing board and “every mommy blog on the internet.” Mr. Harrison pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, explain.” The injustice of it all made my eyes burn. I recounted the morning’s events, from the snot-sucking request to the basketball incident. He sighed heavily. “Ah. So we got one of those this year.” “What do we do now?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. He looked at me with a weary expression. “We’ll do a home visit together tonight. I’m sorry, Sarah, but you know how it is. Enrollment is down. We need to keep the parents we have.” 4 So that evening, I found myself on the world’s most awkward home visit. At least Mr. Harrison was with me. Jessica had insisted that since we were coming anyway, we should just bring Caden home with us. Mr. Harrison, desperate to avoid another incident, had agreed, making me record the entire car ride on my phone for liability reasons. The moment we walked in the door, Caden ran into his mother’s arms and started wailing. Jessica didn’t even greet us. She just knelt, hugged her son, and started her performance. “What is it, my sweet baby? Did someone hurt you? Was it Ms. Miller? You can tell Mommy! It was Ms. Miller, wasn’t it? Don’t be afraid. Mommy will protect you. Did Ms. Miller bully you?” I wanted to scream. It was a masterclass in leading a witness. Caden sobbed, “Mommy… stuffy nose… my nose is stuffy!” Jessica’s head snapped up, her eyes locking on me with venom. “You didn’t take care of his nose? I told you exactly what to do! Is basic childcare not in your job description? Mr. Harrison, you see? Your teacher is negligent!” Mr. Harrison managed a polite smile. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but as I believe Ms. Miller explained, we have a strict policy against that kind of… oral contact between staff and students.” Jessica paled. She clearly hadn’t expected me to tell him her insane request. “Wh-what contact?” “For instance,” Mr. Harrison said smoothly, “using one’s mouth to suction a child’s nasal passages. That is absolutely forbidden.” 5 Jessica stood up, pulling Caden behind her defensively. “Well, you’re a young woman,” she sneered at me. “Aren’t you ashamed, describing something so graphic to a man? I said to suck the snot, not his whole nose. You can do it from a distance!” I was caught between rage and laughter. “Jessica, I am not capable of doing that.” “Then you’re incompetent! You’re not qualified to care for my son! What’s so hard about it?” She pulled Caden forward and, to our absolute horror, demonstrated. She placed her mouth over his nostrils and inhaled sharply, then spat the contents into a tissue. “See? Was that so hard? A child is the purest thing on earth. Your mind, Ms. Miller, is what’s truly filthy.” I could see Mr. Harrison’s chest heaving. He was trying not to vomit. I just nodded, my lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, Jessica. You’re… you’re very skilled.” My praise seemed to mollify her. Just then, Caden’s grandmother emerged from a back room. “Oh! The director and the teacher are here! Come in, come in, sit down!” We perched awkwardly on the edge of the sofa. “Jessica, what are you doing standing there?” her mother-in-law commanded. “Get our guests a snack!” Jessica shuffled into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a small plate holding two boiled eggs. “You must be hungry after a long day,” she said. “Have an egg.” After the snot show, my appetite was gone. But when we politely declined, it just set her off again. “See? What did I tell you? They look down on us!” Mr. Harrison, flustered, quickly grabbed an egg and started peeling. “No, no, not at all! We just had some leftovers at school before we left.” Jessica sniffed. “Oh, how nice for you. Using our kids’ meal fees to feed yourselves.” Mr. Harrison nearly choked. I quickly grabbed the other egg and started peeling, trying to smooth things over. I took a tentative bite. The taste was… bizarre. Musty and deeply unpleasant. “This egg has a very… unique flavor,” I managed, forcing a smile. Jessica beamed, her chin held high. “Of course! It’s a vitality egg. I get them from a special free-range farm. They’re an ancient wellness food. Very good for you.” 6 Mr. Harrison and I both froze. A moment later, he made a gagging sound and stumbled toward the bathroom. I chugged the glass of water on the coffee table. Jessica glared at his retreating back. “What is wrong with you people? Disrespecting our family’s traditional foods?” “No!” I said quickly, trying to do damage control. “It’s not that! Mr. Harrison has a sensitive stomach from… from eating all the school leftovers. A powerful food like this is just a little too much for his system.” Her expression softened. “You eat the children’s leftovers?” Mr. Harrison emerged, wiping his mouth, his eyes watery. He nodded weakly. “Yes. We don’t like to waste food.” “Oh,” she said, finally seeming satisfied. “I see.” The rest of the visit was a blur of awkwardness. Before we left, Jessica delivered her final ultimatum. “Fine. For my mother-in-law’s sake, I’ll drop the complaint. For now. But starting tomorrow, I want an hourly photo update from Ms. Miller. If I don’t get it, I’m going straight to the board.” On the way back, Mr. Harrison said, “Sarah, in thirty years in education, I’ve never met a parent like that. Do what you have to do… but if you can find a way to encourage them to un-enroll, you have my full support. I’m worried about the influence on the other children.” That was all the permission I needed. The next morning, Jessica pointed to a basketball left on the playground from the day before. “Go on, honey. If no one’s playing with it, it’s yours.” I rushed over. “Caden, that belongs to one of the older boys. He’ll be here soon. Let’s find another toy.” Caden responded by sinking his teeth into my hand. “I want it! Mommy said I could!” he shrieked, shoving me aside and grabbing the ball. Just then, the ball’s owner, a boy from the pre-K class, arrived. “Hey! Why are you playing with my ball?” he yelled.

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Could twins have two different biological fathers? I stared at the two paternity test reports in my hand, lost in thought. Just then, my husband called out from the living room, “Let’s name the big one Summer, and the little one Rose.” His first love, the one who broke his heart in college, was named Summer Rose. Something inside me snapped. What the hell? The kids weren’t even his. What right did he have to name them? 1 I’m what you’d call a traditional woman, a small-town girl at heart. When I married my husband, Mark, he became my whole world. Whatever he said, whatever he did, was right. I adored him. We met at the same university. He was a few years ahead of me and came back as a successful alum to give a talk to my business class. In my eyes, he was the epitome of success. 2 We dated, we got married. I threw myself into the role of the perfect wife. The day I graduated, I hung up my ambitions and dedicated myself to him. I managed our home, cooked his meals, and organized his life. 3 But my perfect domestic life hit a major snag. Two years into our marriage, I still wasn’t pregnant. Panic set in. I grew up in a place where divorce was the ultimate failure for a woman. If I was the one who couldn’t have children, I’d be sent back to my parents in shame. 4 Desperate, I confided in one of Mark’s best friends, Ben. Ben was a doctor, handsome and successful like all of Mark’s friends. He was kind. After listening to my tearful confession, he offered to run some private tests for me, off the record. The results came back: Mark was sterile. A wave of relief washed over me. It was dark, but my backup plan had been to… injure Mark in a way that would make him sterile, creating a situation where we were both unable to have children. It was a bloody thought, and though I’d rehearsed it in my head, telling myself it was to save our family, I was glad I didn’t have to hurt him. 5 To protect our marriage, and more importantly, Mark’s fragile ego, I decided to bear this burden alone. I swallowed the secret. When Mark and his mother yelled at me, I took it. His mother called me a “barren hen.” Mark would snap, “Every other woman on the planet can get pregnant, what’s wrong with you?” I never said a word. I was the silent, long-suffering wife. Besides, I was already working on a solution, not just complaining like they were. 6 Sometimes, I felt a surge of pity for Mark. He had no idea how lucky he was to have a wife like me. Ben asked me what my plan was. He was so handsome. He had these charming eyes that crinkled when he smiled and a deep, soothing voice. When he stood close, he smelled faintly of clean linen and antiseptic. 7 As I cried quietly in his office, Ben gently wiped my tears with a tissue. He put a comforting hand on my shoulder, guiding me into a soft hug. “You’ve been through so much,” he murmured. “It breaks my heart to see you like this.” “I don’t want to hurt Mark,” I sobbed. “And I don’t want to lose my family.” I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. “Ben, is there any way… any way you can help me get pregnant?” After a long pause, Ben agreed. He would be my anonymous donor. We both agreed to keep it from Mark. We didn’t want him to be hurt. 8 Our conversation was overheard by Mark’s other best friend, Julian. The three of them were inseparable. Julian was a university professor. He found me later, his expression serious. “You can’t keep this from him,” he said. “The problem is his. He needs to know.” “Telling him won’t change anything!” I whispered frantically. “It would just crush him. All he wants is a child. If I, as his wife, can’t even give him that, what good am I?” Julian sighed. “If you need someone to help… I can. I’ve been in love with you for years, but you’ve always been so wrapped up in him, I never had a chance.” He looked at me with such intensity. “If you have my child, I will give that child everything I have. All I ask for is one night. One night I can remember for the rest of my life. Can’t you grant me that one wish?” 9 I was tempted. He promised he would never marry, that he would just love our child from afar. Having one more person love my baby couldn’t be a bad thing. And besides, I hated feeling indebted to people. Since Julian loved me, it felt less like a transaction and more like… a mutual favor. So, I told Ben I’d found someone else. He demanded to know why. When I hesitated, he grew quiet. “You can’t be serious about divorcing him, can you? Because if you did, I’d marry you. You wouldn’t have to go through all this.” I shook my head, horrified. His words scared me. Mark and his mother always said a woman’s value comes from being married, from being loved and wanted by a man. How could I initiate a divorce? I was a traditional woman. Divorce wasn’t in my vocabulary. 10 Ben pressed me. “Who is it? What did they offer you?” Of course, I wouldn’t say. “I know who it is,” he said, his voice tight. “It’s Julian, isn’t it? The way he looks at you… it’s not innocent. Getting involved with him is a mistake.” He leaned closer. “I can marry you! Can he?” His arguments were compelling. He was a doctor. If there were any “post-purchase” issues, he could help. If Mark ever got suspicious and wanted a paternity test, Ben could handle it. Plus, having a doctor on call during the pregnancy would be invaluable. So, I went back and rejected Julian. 11 Julian did not take it well. He threatened to go to Mark and tell him everything, to stop him from pressuring me. To calm him down, I quickly said that having his baby would be better. In the end, I decided that since they were both willing to help, and they were both Mark’s best friends, it didn’t really matter who it was. And with two of them… my chances of success would be higher. So I found my ovulation day on the calendar. I scheduled a “meeting” with Julian in the morning. And another with Ben in the afternoon. 12 Soon after, I was pregnant. They both wanted to “meet” with me again, but I refused. I couldn’t possibly do something so immoral more than once. Being with them had been physically… pleasurable. More than it had ever been with Mark. But my heart was heavy with guilt. How could a woman enjoy such a thing? I was supposed to be pure, traditional. I couldn’t let myself become wanton. 13 But Ben and Julian were persistent. And somehow, they had both gotten samples of my blood and run their own tests. They both called me, claiming the child was theirs. At first, I was shocked, assuming one of them was lying. But soon, I had no time to worry about it. The pregnancy was rough. And Mark and his mother were no help at all. “When I was pregnant with Mark,” his mother would say, “I was still working two jobs! I gave birth on my lunch break and was back at the cash register that afternoon. Women these days are so fragile.” Mark would chime in, “You sit around the house all day. What’s so hard about being pregnant? Why did I marry such a useless woman?” 14 I endured it all in silence. For the sake of a peaceful home. I told myself that Mark would mature one day. The kids would grow up, and we’d be happy companions in our old age. But it was hard. Thankfully, I had Ben and Julian. I saw Ben for all my prenatal appointments. He was so attentive. When he found out I was still doing all the housework and waiting on Mark and his mother, he told them in no uncertain terms that I needed bed rest. He even hired a housekeeper for us, saying it was an early baby shower gift. His mother was thrilled at the free help. Mark just said Ben was too nice for his own good. 15 Julian was wonderful, too. He moved into the apartment directly above ours. He was a professor, so his schedule was flexible. He started cooking all the time, bringing down elaborate meals. If I craved pickles, he’d make a dish with a tart vinaigrette. If I wanted spicy, he’d whip up a curry. If I had a late-night craving, I’d text him, and he’d appear a little while later with takeout, sitting with Mark to drink a beer while I ate. 16 With their care, I finally felt happy. I had two people who were genuinely excited to welcome this baby with me. As for Mark and his mother, I was sure they would be filled with love once they saw the adorable baby. When the ultrasound showed we were having twins, everyone was ecstatic. I finally earned praise from Mark and his mother. I cried tears of joy. My sacrifice was worth it. Soon after, Ben moved into the apartment downstairs. They would take turns taking me for walks and coming over to chat. But I am a traditional, modest woman. How could I speak to men other than my husband? So I would mostly sit in silence while they talked to Mark or his mother. But inside, I was secretly pleased. 17 Ten months later, I gave birth to a beautiful pair of boy-girl twins. While I was recovering, my mother-in-law complained of aches and pains and refused to help with the babies. And Mark… Mark’s old college flame, Summer Rose, moved back to town. He started “working late” every night to see her. I waited patiently for him to come back to his family. A good woman waits, ready to forgive her husband’s indiscretions. Thankfully, Julian and Ben were there every day, looking after me and the babies. They filled the role of both husband and father. They told me to focus on healing and not to worry. But sometimes, I couldn’t help it. I had sacrificed so much for this family. To protect Mark’s ego, I had hidden his infertility and borne him twins. What more could he possibly want from me? 18 He was the one who said I needed to think of his needs. I did. He was the one who said I needed to be an independent wife and not bother him with problems. I did. I solved our biggest problem all by myself. He and his mother belittled me, and I endured it. All for the sake of our family. And now he was openly cheating on me. 19 And here I was, in my room, trying to figure out how my twins could have different fathers, while he was in the living room, planning to name them after his mistress. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stormed out of the room— And then I lost my nerve. Mark was my world. What he said, goes. I retreated back to my room, tears streaming down my face. A few minutes later, Julian knocked and came in with a tray of food. He glanced at the sleeping babies. “Did he upset you again?” he asked softly. “I do everything for him,” I choked out. “I gave him children. And he still wants his ex. He wants to name our babies Summer and Rose.” Julian’s jaw tightened. “He’s a bastard. Clara, you should leave him. You and the kids can move upstairs with me. It would save me the trip of bringing food down.” I sniffled and shook my head as I uncovered the delicious food he’d made. “Mark is just confused right now. He’ll come back to us. Besides, I’m a traditional woman. I can’t live with another man.” Julian said nothing. When one of the babies woke up, he expertly prepared a bottle and began to feed them. 21 The paternity reports were clear. The boy was Julian’s. The girl was Ben’s. But they both acted as if both children belonged to them. I never corrected them. Why spoil their happiness with the truth? Pleasing others is just in my nature. I’m always thinking of what’s best for everyone else. 22 A little while later, Ben arrived. He and Julian started co-parenting seamlessly. From the living room, my mother-in-law watched them. “Clara!” she called out. “You need to get your strength back so you can give my son more boys! We have to pass on Mark’s superior genes.” Mark nodded, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. I glanced at Ben and Julian. Well, this would require their help again. If Mark wanted more children, I had no objection. After all, he made a seven-figure salary; he could certainly afford them. And more children would surely make him more committed to our family. 23 “Okay,” I said. Julian and Ben beamed. “Sharon,” Ben said to my mother-in-law. “I live right downstairs. Why don’t I take the babies down to my place for a while? Give these two some time to work on the next one.” Julian scoffed. “You? Take care of babies? I’ll take them upstairs. My schedule is more flexible. It’ll be better for everyone.” My mother-in-law clapped her hands. “You two are better to Mark than his own brothers.” I thought, no sane man would agree to this. Sending his wife and newborn babies to another man’s house? But Mark hesitated for only a second before saying, “You guys love the kids so much, you can be their godfathers. Here, take them. Take Clara, too.” 24 “Mark, don’t you want me anymore?” I asked, my voice breaking. I started to cry. “Did I do something wrong? Tell me, I’ll change. You can name the kids whatever you want. We can have more, we can name them… Love Summer, Cherish Rose… anything! Just please, don’t leave me.” Mark looked moved. “No, baby, it’s not that. It’s just… Summer just got back to the country, she has nowhere to stay. I invited her here, and I’m afraid the babies will be too loud for her…” He was kicking me and his children out to move his mistress in? I was still in a daze when I found myself in Julian’s apartment. He settled the babies, then wrapped his arms around me. “He doesn’t love you, Clara,” he said softly. “But I do. And I love our children. Don’t cry for a man who doesn’t deserve your tears.” I sobbed into his chest. He kissed me. I didn’t resist. If it weren’t for Julian, I think I would have fallen apart. He calmed me. I was ready to once again be the patient wife, waiting for her husband to come home.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385495”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The driver of the car that hit me was Carter Hayes’s first love. When Carter arrived at the scene, she let out a sigh of relief. “My boyfriend’s here,” she announced to me. “Just tell his assistant what you want for compensation.” Carter wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. Then his brow furrowed as he stared at my bleeding knee, his gaze lingering for a long time. Her voice was uncertain. “Do you two… know each other?” Carter’s expression shuttered. He took her hand and led her away. “No.” I sat quietly on the curb, applying a Band-Aid, showing no reaction to his words. After all, the first clause in the prenuptial agreement he’d given me three years ago was that our marriage would remain a secret. I couldn’t get a cab during the morning rush. As I limped my way to the office, a single thought echoed in my mind. My three-year contract marriage with Carter Hayes was about to expire. I could finally leave. 1 I always knew Carter had someone he could never forget—the one that got away. I just didn’t know it was the woman who’d just run a red light and hit me. I didn’t realize it until Carter showed up. For a split second, I froze, my stupid heart thinking he was there for me. But the woman in front of me, Serena, scrambled to her feet. The hem of her white dress fluttered as she ran and threw herself into his arms. “Carter, what do I do? I hit someone.” He took off his tailored blazer and draped it over her trembling shoulders. His voice was the same as always—a low, calm baritone. “I’ll handle it.” I slowly dragged my eyes away from them and stared down at my scraped knee. It belatedly dawned on me why Carter had been coming home so rarely these past few weeks. The woman in his arms, his first love, Serena Croft, was back in the country. 2 Serena visibly relaxed. She stepped out of his embrace and looked back at me. “My boyfriend’s here,” she repeated. “Whatever compensation you want, just talk to his assistant.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m so, so sorry about this. I’ve made you late for work and gotten you hurt.” Then she added, with a touch of pride, “Don’t be afraid to ask for anything. My boyfriend is very rich. He’ll agree to whatever you want.” “Thank you,” I murmured. Carter’s assistant, David, looked deeply uncomfortable. He was one of the very few people who knew about our marriage. “Mrs. Hayes… uh, I mean, Miss,” he stammered. “That, uh…” His eyes fell on my knee. “Why is your wound still bleeding like that? It’s been half an hour.” He looked concerned. “Do you have some kind of bleeding disorder?” I nodded. “It’s very mild.” Carter’s head snapped in our direction, his voice a low rumble. “A bleeding disorder?” “What’s wrong?” Serena asked, confused. He didn’t seem to hear her. His gaze was fixed on my knee, his brow tightly knit. Serena finally sensed that something was off. She looked from my face to Carter’s, her expression turning to suspicion. “Do you two know each other?” I knew he would never let her find out he had a secret wife. He blinked, schooling his features back into a neutral mask. “No.” He took Serena’s hand and, as he turned to leave, tossed a casual order to David over his shoulder. “Take her to a hospital.” 3 As their figures receded, I stopped David. “I’ve already called an Uber,” I said. “Just cover my lost wages for the day, please. Two hundred and thirty-seven dollars.” David, looking utterly mortified, transferred the money and left. I stuck a large bandage over my knee. Unfortunately, my Uber driver called to cancel, stuck in a massive traffic jam. I pushed myself up from the curb and began the slow, painful walk to my office. Today was September 28th. I had exactly two months until my contract with Carter was up. It was time to start planning my exit. 4 Carter had paid for my education since I was in high school. When I got into a university in his city, he became my legal guardian. During my junior year, I interned at his company for three months. Serena was already overseas getting her master’s degree by then, so I knew nothing about her. Carter took me under his wing, teaching me the ins and outs of the corporate world. He was a man who rarely showed emotion, but I remember one evening, when a sleazy investor got handsy with me at a business dinner, Carter kicked the man square in the chest. Then, he took an empty wine bottle and pressed it into my hand. He stood behind me, his body shielding mine, his voice a low whisper in my ear. “Do you know what today’s lesson is?” His scent, a cool, woody fragrance, enveloped me. I forced myself to breathe shallowly, to stay calm. “You’re… you’re teaching me to fight back at the right moment. To maintain control of the situation instead of…” His large, warm hand closed over mine, gripping the bottle. “Good student,” he murmured, “but this isn’t a word problem. There’s no textbook answer.” He guided my hand, raising it high. “It’s just a fight.” CRASH. The bottle shattered against the investor’s head. The impact vibrated up my arm. Carter pulled the silk pocket square from his blazer and gently wiped the sweat from my palm. “Don’t ever forget,” he said softly. “I’m here to back you up. Don’t let anyone push you around.” I snatched my hand back, mumbled that I understood, and ran. Any longer, and he would have seen the adoration in my eyes. 5 Before my senior year graduation, Carter came to me with a proposal. A contract. He needed a marriage of convenience to get his parents off his back. The term was three years. The conditions were simple: our marriage was to be kept a secret from everyone. I would occasionally accompany him to family functions. We were not required to fulfill any spousal duties. We were not responsible for each other’s lives. I could even date, as long as it wasn’t public enough to get back to his parents. At the end of the contract, I would receive five million dollars. 6 Maybe it was the intoxicating feeling of being in love for the first time. Maybe it was Carter’s occasional indulgence that made me bold. After we were married, I moved into the new villa he’d bought. The highlight of my day was waiting for him to come home from work. We’d eat together, talk. Sometimes we’d watch a movie or go for a walk. Then one night, he came home drunk, draped over his female executive assistant. His arm was around her shoulders, his face buried in the crook of her neck. “Mrs. Hayes, please step aside,” she said coolly. “I need to get Mr. Hayes inside.” A hot, ugly feeling coiled in my gut. I didn’t move. I held out my hands. “I’ll take my husband.” As I supported Carter’s weight and turned to close the door, the assistant smiled thinly. “You should learn to be more magnanimous, Mrs. Hayes. A woman with such a jealous streak will only make herself miserable. You don’t expect him to fire every woman at his company just for you, do you?” I didn’t realize Carter was still conscious enough to hear her. Or to notice the raw emotion on my face. When I brought out the hot tea I’d made for his hangover, he was leaning against the sofa, his eyes sharp and clear. “I’m awake,” he said. “Drink this,” I mumbled, pushing the cup toward him. “It’ll help.” I was still fuming about him and his assistant and didn’t want to talk. He glanced at the tea but didn’t touch it. Instead, he asked me a question out of the blue. “Do you know why I’ve never let you in my study?” I shook my head, confused. He stood up and took my hand, leading me down the hall. His steps were unsteady, but when I tried to support him, he shook his head. He pushed open the study door. A massive canvas dominated the room. It was a painting of a girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, standing in a field of flowers, her head bowed as she smelled a blossom. From that angle, you could only see half of her face. It was why I hadn’t recognized Serena at first glance. Carter leaned against the doorframe and lit a cigarette. “I’ve been in love with her since I was seventeen,” he said, his voice flat. “For ten years now. If we hadn’t fought, if she hadn’t left for Europe in a fit of anger, she would be the one I’m married to now.” His tone was casual, but every word was a hammer blow against my eardrums. He seemed oblivious to my reaction. He cut straight to the point. “I can’t give you the response you’re looking for. So, Elara, it’s best not to have feelings that you shouldn’t.” He used his boardroom voice, the one he used during negotiations. “I’m adding a supplementary clause to our agreement. If you cannot manage your own emotions and overstep your boundaries into my personal affairs, it will be considered a breach of contract. A breach means you forfeit the payment and will be liable for corresponding damages.” The study was dark. The light from the hallway cast a long rectangle on the floor in front of me. I saw my own shadow, frozen like a statue. I couldn’t move. Inappropriately, I remembered something I’d heard him say once at the office, about a greedy business partner. “The way they test the boundaries, so desperate and obvious… it’s nauseating.” Now, I was one of those people who made him sick. I don’t know when he left. I just stood there. I stood until the sun came up. I stood until the toxic lump in my chest finally dissolved. After that day, I managed myself perfectly. I never let a single inappropriate emotion show. Cool, polite, respectful. That’s all he got from me. And after a while, I think I really, truly stopped loving him. 7 I found an urgent care clinic to clean and bandage my leg, then texted my manager to take a sick day. With nothing else pressing, I went to the hospital to see my mom. “They haven’t been able to schedule me with the specialist, so I should just go home,” she was saying as I walked in. “We’re just wasting money, honey.” My mom has a brain tumor. It’s in a very tricky location. There are fewer than three surgeons in the entire country who can perform the operation. I popped a piece of pear into her mouth to stop her from talking. “Absolutely not. Remember what happened last time you tried to go down to the third floor for a scan by yourself? You fainted.” I lowered my voice. “Besides, I heard that one of the top neurosurgeons, Dr. Finch, is going to be doing a guest residency here for the next two months.” My mom’s primary doctor had promised to get us an appointment the moment he arrived. The thought that she might soon be cured made my steps feel lighter as I went to the cafeteria to get lunch. The head nurse stopped me in the hallway, her expression hesitant. “Elara…” “What is it, Maggie?” I asked. “Did a private room open up?” This was one of the best hospitals in the country, and even the private rooms were always full. My mom was in an eight-person ward with no private bathroom. I’d asked the head nurse to keep an eye out for me. She sighed. “One did. And I put your name on it right away. But a new patient came in, someone with serious connections. They gave the room to her mom instead.” She lowered her voice. “I heard her boyfriend’s last name is Hayes, runs some huge corporation… the hospital didn’t want to say no.” At that exact moment, I saw a flash of white at the end of the hall. The same white dress Serena had been wearing this morning. I looked away and forced a smile for the nurse. “Thank you for trying, Maggie. The room isn’t what’s important. I just want my mom to get her surgery.” 8 When I got home that evening, Carter was standing by the espresso machine. I paused. I was surprised he wasn’t with Serena. Not that it was any of my business. I gave a slight nod. “Mr. Hayes.” I was about to go to my room when he spoke. “How’s the knee?” “I put some antiseptic on it. It’s fine.” He set down his coffee cup and glanced at his watch. “I need you to come with me to my parents’ for dinner tonight. Are you free?” He didn’t need to ask so politely. According to our contract, I had to be free. I nodded. “Yes.” For a family dinner, I couldn’t dress in my usual simple clothes. I chose a designer pantsuit, did my makeup, put on jewelry, and sprayed a light perfume. Polished from head to toe. At the door to his parents’ house, I slipped my arm through his, a familiar gesture. Inside, I smiled obediently and greeted each of his relatives. During dinner, Carter’s mother asked without warning, “So, are you two trying for a baby yet?” I choked on my soup. Carter handed me a napkin and patted my back gently. “Elara’s still young, Mom.” “She’s twenty-five,” his mother countered. “That’s not young. It’s time to start thinking about these things, you hear me?” I managed to swallow. “I understand, Mom.” A thunderstorm started after dinner, and we had to stay the night. We shared a bed, but with separate comforters. The arrangement was familiar enough not to be awkward anymore. I came out of the bathroom in my nightgown and sat on the sofa to re-dress my knee. Carter looked over. “Sorry I couldn’t take you to the hospital myself today.” He seemed to be trying to figure out how to explain Serena. I cut him off first. “It’s fine. The contract doesn’t require you to fulfill any husbandly duties. Don’t worry about it. I also won’t ask about you and Miss Croft. Rest assured, I won’t reveal our arrangement to her. I’ll continue to play my part for the next two months.” He raised an eyebrow. “Two months?” It seemed he’d forgotten. “Yes,” I reminded him. “In two months, the contract expires, and we can get a divorce.” He set down his wine glass, his interest fading. “You seem to have the date memorized.” With that flat comment, he walked into the bathroom. 9 My mom’s doctor called. Dr. Finch was arriving in two weeks. His consultation slots were released online and filled up in seconds. But my mom’s case was urgent. The doctor had personally appealed to the hospital administrator and secured an extra appointment for us. For the next two weeks, I went to the hospital every day after work. One afternoon, I was waiting for the elevator when the doors opened and Carter and Serena stepped in. Serena didn’t recognize me. Carter’s step faltered for a fraction of a second. As the elevator ascended, Serena clung to his arm. “Thank you, my amazing boyfriend, for getting my mom the best room and pushing her scans to the front of the line. Now we just have to wait for the results. How can I ever thank you? Hmm, maybe I’ll let you take me to dinner.” I stared straight ahead at the floor numbers. After a moment, I heard him ask, “What do you want to eat?” “Let’s go to your place!” she chirped. “I want you to make me your famous pasta!” The elevator stopped at my floor. I walked out without hearing his answer. I didn’t need to. He would never say no to her. It looked like I’d be staying at a hotel tonight. 10 After dinner with my mom, I checked into a nearby hotel. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. I was in a deep fog when my phone rang. It was Carter. “Hello…?” “When are you coming home? I cooked dinner. I’m waiting for you.” I mumbled into my pillow, “Aren’t you… with Serena…? I didn’t want to run into you two… I’ll just stay out for the night…” His voice hardened. “Don’t make assumptions. Give me the hotel address. I’ll come get you.” I was so tired, the request just made me irritable. I rolled over in the blankets. “No, Carter. I’m already asleep. Don’t bother me…” There was a silence on the other end, then his tone softened, a hint of amusement in it. “Are you always this grumpy when you’re woken up?” In my half-conscious state, I wasn’t afraid of him. I made an annoyed sound. I could have sworn I heard a soft chuckle before he spoke again. “Alright, you sleep. I won’t disturb you.” The line went dead, and I was asleep again. 11 The next day, I’d mostly forgotten the call, except for the bold way I’d used his first name. When he called again, I assumed it was to reprimand me. “Is there something you need, Mr. Hayes?” I asked cautiously. There was a long pause. “Nothing,” he finally said, his voice flat. “I just forgot to ask yesterday. What were you doing at the hospital?” I kept my answer brief, not wanting him to think I was asking for help. “My mom’s a patient there. It’s nothing serious, she should be out soon.” “I see,” he said. “If you need anything, contact David.” I thanked him politely but dismissed the offer. That supplementary clause had conditioned me well. Asking Carter for help was overstepping. I couldn’t do it. He didn’t hang up. “Mr. Hayes?” I asked. “Was there something else?” I could hear the faint, rhythmic tapping of his finger against a desk. A habit of his on the phone. “I was just wondering what time you usually take a nap,” he said idly. “…What?” “So I know when to call you in the future.” I had no idea what he was talking about. Was this some new form of corporate torture? 12 Dr. Finch was scheduled to hold consultations on the 17th, from 2 to 5 PM. We had the last slot. I saw Serena at the hospital again, this time alone. Carter had flown out for a business trip on the 13th and wouldn’t be back for a week. On the morning of the 17th, I saw her chatting with a nurse. “My mom’s results are only partially back,” she said, biting into an apple, “but the administrator told me not to worry, it’s probably nothing.” The nurse smiled briefly. “That’s great. Maybe you should go for a walk? We’re a bit busy preparing for Dr. Finch’s consultations this afternoon.” Serena ignored the hint. “A doctor? What doctor?” “He’s a top expert in neuro-oncology,” the nurse explained. “All his slots are full. But your mother’s case is completely different, she doesn’t need to see him.” Serena took another bite of her apple, a thoughtful look on her face. “Is that so…” A knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. But her mother’s condition wasn’t serious, and it wasn’t even in Dr. Finch’s specialty. Surely, she wouldn’t try to take a spot. I was wrong. At 2:30 PM, my mom’s doctor pulled me aside, her face grave. “We lost the appointment.” The words hit me like a physical blow. A roaring in my ears made the world spin. “It was taken by the girlfriend of the CEO of Hayes Corp,” she said, her brow furrowed in frustration. “I told her that her mother’s condition is something I can easily handle, but she wouldn’t listen. She insisted on getting a ‘second opinion’ from the best, just to be safe.” I leaned against the wall to keep from falling. “Can’t they add one more slot?” “There’s no time. Dr. Finch has another engagement at 5:30.” I dug my nails into my palms, the pain keeping me grounded. I immediately called Carter. His phone was off, probably in a meeting. The clock was ticking. I couldn’t hesitate. I rushed home, grabbed my marriage certificate, and raced back to the hospital. It was almost 4 PM. My doctor took me to the hospital administrator’s office. Before I could speak, he held up a hand. “Miss, there’s nothing I can do. The remaining appointments are for very high-profile patients.” I pushed the marriage certificate across his desk, breathless. “I am Carter Hayes’s wife. You can verify that this document is authentic. I’m not here to take someone else’s spot. I’m here to reclaim the one that was stolen from me.” 13 I got the appointment back. We scheduled the surgery with Dr. Finch for twenty days later. I asked the administrator and the doctor to keep my identity a secret, but it was no use against Serena. She cornered me as I was leaving the hospital that evening. Her eyes met mine, and she frowned. Then a slow, sharp smile spread across her face. “I remember you. You’re the girl I hit with my car. No wonder Carter was so concerned about your ‘bleeding disorder.’” I looked down. “I wouldn’t have done this if you hadn’t taken my appointment. My relationship with him isn’t what you think. I can explain.” She held up a hand. “I just want to see the marriage certificate.” Her tone turned menacing. “Because if you don’t show me, I swear I will make such a scene in this hospital that your mother will never have a moment’s peace, let alone surgery.” I had no choice. I showed her. Serena’s smile never wavered. She nodded, handed it back, and immediately dialed Carter’s number. He must have just finished his meeting. “Carter, you have a wife.” There was a pause. “Who told you that?” he asked, his voice low. Her eyes, filling with tears, were locked on mine. “How could you humiliate me like this?” she announced to the phone. “We’re over.” She hung up and walked away. I took a step to follow, but she spoke without turning around. “Don’t you dare follow me. You’re pathetic, letting your husband cheat on you. Don’t make me get physical with you in front of a hospital.” 14 Carter rejected a dozen of my calls. I texted him an explanation, but he never replied. He returned to the US on the 20th but didn’t come back to the villa until the 25th. The five days in between were, presumably, spent winning Serena back. The night before he came home, I saw her post on Instagram. She was in Hong Kong. The photo was of Carter’s back, wearing a hotel bathrobe, looking out over the glittering Victoria Harbour. The caption read: Love or a title, which is more important? It seemed she already had her answer. Today, Carter was here to settle the score. I was braced for his anger, but he didn’t even look at me. He tossed his coat aside and sat on the sofa, lighting a cigarette. “Do you remember our agreement?” His voice was calm, which was somehow more terrifying than if he’d been yelling. “If you had considered our contract before revealing our marriage, none of this would have happened.” I tried to defend myself. “It was because Serena stole my mom’s appointment, and the doctor said—” He cut me off smoothly. “Does your mother have anything to do with me?” I fell silent, staring at him. His voice was perfectly cool. “Why should I have to consider your mother’s situation? Excuses are pointless. The fact is, you breached the contract.” All my arguments died in my throat. I nodded mechanically. “I’m sorry… I’ll accept the consequences.” I waited for my sentence. The silence was broken by his phone ringing. It was Serena. Even without speakerphone, her voice was clear. “I did some digging on your little wife, Carter. She’s in love with you.” I stood frozen, beyond embarrassment. “Do you know what that means?” Serena laughed. “It means she stole that appointment on purpose. Her mom probably isn’t even that sick. She was just jealous of me and wanted to cause trouble.” My head snapped up, my heart seizing. Serena delivered the final verdict. “Get that surgery appointment back for my mother. I doubt her mom will die if she doesn’t see this one specific doctor.” Her casual words shattered my composure. I collapsed to my knees beside him, my hand trembling as I reached for his sleeve. “No, that’s not true, I wasn’t lying,” I sobbed, my words tumbling out in a panicked rush. “My mom’s surgery… no one else can do it, you can check… I’m begging you, please don’t take it away, you can do anything you want to me, just… just don’t hurt my mom…” Carter’s brow furrowed. He grabbed my wrist. “Elara, calm down. Listen to me.” But I couldn’t hear him. The tension of the past few weeks snapped. I was hysterical, babbling apologies and pleas. And then, everything went black. “Elara.” “Elara?” The last thing I heard was his voice, laced with something that sounded like panic. The conversation faded. I felt myself being lifted into someone’s arms. Serena’s voice was a faint, tinny sneer from the phone. “She fainted? Are you sure she’s not faking it?” And Carter’s voice, sharp with rage: “Serena!”

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