A new game was making the rounds in Victoria’s circle. Pretend You’re Broke for a Month. It was the ultimate loyalty test for the men in their lives. To make it authentic, the challenger’s friends and family were all in on the charade. Even her company would install a “new boss” for the duration. Dressed in a five-dollar t-shirt and a sanitation worker’s cap, Victoria Davenport went to find the man she loved, her confidence unshaken. Instead, Ryan stared at her in disgust and had security throw her out. She stood there for a long time, stunned, before her trembling fingers dialed another number. “Liam? I’m broke. I have nowhere to go.” On the other end of the line, a little girl’s voice chirped with comfort. “Mommy, don’t be scared. You can have my room.” 1 The call from my ex-wife came while I was frosting a cake. My daughter, Thea, who had been playing a game on my phone, answered it without a second thought. I don’t know what was said, but a moment later, the four-year-old’s face lit up. She came tearing toward me, one of her little sneakers flying off in her excitement. “Daddy, it’s great! Mommy’s broke! She can come to my birthday this year!” Broke? The call was still connected. The screen read: Victoria. The last time she’d called was Christmas. She only ever contacted me for holidays. It was always the same request: come to her parents’ house, play the part of the happy, devoted husband, keep the old folks happy. The moment we stepped out of her parents’ estate, she would snatch her hand from mine, her touch turning to ice as she rushed off to appease Ryan. Her back seat would be piled high with gift boxes, the passenger seat a shrine of red roses just for him. I would stand there, clutching the ten-thousand-dollar check—her ‘performance fee’—and feel nothing but the biting wind. No heartbreak, no longing. Just the cold, hard relief of knowing Thea and I had rent for the next six months. Hearing she was broke, my only question was why she wasn’t calling her precious Ryan, the man she’d showered with endless affection. Why was she calling me, the man she couldn’t stand to look at? Victoria’s voice was tentative. “Liam, I don’t have a place to stay. I haven’t eaten all day. Can I… can I come stay with you?” “No,” was on the tip of my tongue. But then Thea tugged on my sleeve. Her eyes, big and dark like purple grapes, were wide with a mixture of hope and pleading. “Daddy, please? Just for one birthday? All the other kids have their mommy and daddy with them.” I looked down at her, and a sharp pang went through my chest. I knew how much she craved a mother’s love. Victoria did love Thea, in her own way. She’d take her to Six Flags, buy her designer dresses, send entire collector’s sets of princess figurines. But one day, Thea had come home with her head hanging low and whispered that she would never “bother Mommy” again. I dropped the spatula, stormed over to their villa, and with the strength I’d built from bussing a thousand tables a day, I slapped Ryan across the face, again and again. I shoved his head in the toilet and flushed, giving his filthy mouth a long-overdue cleaning. Victoria never asked to see Thea after that. But today was Thea’s birthday. All she wanted was to have both her parents with her. I relented. “Thea misses you, Victoria. You can come over for dinner.” On the other end, she let out a breath. It was the sound of someone realizing they hadn’t lost everything after all. “You’re still at The Crestwood, right? I’ll be right there.” I froze. “The what? I’ve never lived there.” My apartment was in Maple Creek, close to Thea’s preschool. The street outside was lined with food stalls. At night, you could hear the muffled bass from the karaoke bar across the road, and the exterminator’s van made its rounds like clockwork. It was a universe away from the luxury condo building Victoria had just named. There was a long silence on her end before she asked for my current address. Even in cheap, worn-out clothes, she still carried an air of unmistakable grace. The moment she stepped through the door, Thea launched herself at her legs. Victoria stroked her hair, a fond smile on her face, but as her eyes scanned our small two-bedroom apartment, the warmth vanished, replaced by an arctic chill. “This is where you have my daughter living?” 2 My hand, holding a teacup, stopped mid-air. The apartment was a nice rental, clean, with a simple, light-wood aesthetic. From the appliances to the cartoon-themed play mat on the floor, Thea had picked everything out herself, and I had paid for it. I might struggle, but I had never, ever given Thea a reason to feel ashamed of where she lived or what she had. And Victoria’s first act upon entering my home was to criticize it. Then again, she and Ryan lived in a 5,000-square-foot villa. Of course this felt cramped to her. I tossed the tea bag I was holding into the trash and pulled my daughter close. “Thea, honey, why don’t you go to your room and see if you can find the birthday present Daddy hid for you?” Her face lit up, and she scampered off. The moment she was gone, my smile disappeared. I fixed Victoria with a glare. “‘This place?’ Weren’t you the one just begging to come to ‘this place’? You don’t even have ‘this place’ to go back to anymore. What right do you have to judge me?” Victoria quickly composed herself, her mask of poise sliding back into place. She was playing the part of the broke girl now, not the CEO. She sat down on the sofa, looking slightly out of place. “You misunderstood. I just meant… why aren’t you living in the house I gave you?” I had no idea what she was talking about. “What house?” When we divorced, I left with a single suitcase and a three-month-old Thea. The only cash I had came from selling the watch my parents had left me. Victoria’s brow furrowed. “Liam, you gave me a child. Even if I didn’t love you, I would never neglect my own flesh and blood. I had my assistant, Quinn, purchase a house for you and set aside a substantial settlement. You didn’t take it?” A house? A settlement? This was the first I was hearing of it. The realization dawned on me. “I never saw a dime. Are you broke and trying to shake me down for money you think you gave me?” Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine regret crossing her face. “Liam, I would sooner beg on the street than try to con you. You are the person in this world I have wronged the most.” Our past played out like a bad soap opera. I was the orphaned son of the man who had saved her father’s life. The Davenports took me in when I was eight. Mr. Davenport doted on me. Mrs. Davenport loved my quiet nature. And Victoria, two years my senior, treated me like a cherished younger brother. She fought off the bullies who picked on me. She took me hiking to see beautiful landscapes, to animal shelters to help me heal. She painstakingly pulled me out of the abyss of grief. And I, in turn, poured my secret adoration into a diary. Liam loves Victoria. Will Victoria ever love Liam? The answer came my senior year of college. Victoria proposed to me. I was ecstatic, believing she loved me too. I foolishly went with her to the courthouse. Nine dollars and we were married. I didn’t know that her father, while giving me 10% of the company’s stock, had made Victoria start at the bottom. She wasn’t marrying me; she was marrying a shortcut to the life and career she wanted. After the wedding, I was lost in a dream. I cooked for her, ironed her suits, picked her up from late-night meetings. But after she gave birth, she had an affair with a cloying, obsequious intern. Ryan, who was half a year older than me. She said Ryan understood her. He was her soulmate, their love was real. What she felt for me, she said, was just familial affection. Her father, sharp as ever, saw right through Ryan’s calculating façade. He swore that creature would never set foot in their house. So Victoria came up with a compromise. She wouldn’t divorce me—I was her shield, there to placate her parents. But she would give Ryan everything a husband deserved, short of a marriage certificate. It was ten days after Thea was born. Me, the man who had always bent to her will, snatched the fruit knife from the counter and, without a moment’s hesitation, plunged it into my own stomach. Marrying Victoria was my mistake. My youthful naivete, my stupid, love-sick blindness. Her cheating, her treating me like a glorified housekeeper—I deserved all of it. But I would die before I let her dishonor my daughter. Blood pooled on the floor. Victoria froze. Panic, terror, and guilt washed over her face. She pressed her hands to my abdomen, her fingers trembling uncontrollably. “Liam, don’t you die.” 3 I was stubborn. If she didn’t agree to a divorce and give me full custody of Thea, I would kill myself. If I was saved, I’d do it again, until I was dead for good. And if I died, I knew her father would make Ryan’s life a living hell. To protect Ryan, Victoria signed the papers. The day I left, she made one last demand. The divorce had to be a secret. On holidays, I had to come back and play the happy husband for her parents. I agreed. On one condition. I would be paid for my performance. Ten thousand dollars a visit. For Victoria, the woman I was willing to die to get away from, to have to turn around and pay me for my time… it was the ultimate humiliation. Her face tightened, her voice dripping with venom. “Don’t you have any feelings for me at all? Is money all you care about? Fine. I won’t give you a single penny. I’ll wait for you to come crawling back, broke and pathetic, begging me for help.” She was true to her word. The “financial compensation” mentioned in the divorce agreement never materialized. I did end up broke and pathetic for a while, but I clawed my way back up on my own. I never begged her for anything. Recalling the past, Victoria pressed her fingers to her temples. “I was just angry. You were a single father with a baby. I would never have actually abandoned you.” “Your angry words were my reality for four years.” My retort silenced her. She looked around the room again. While our things weren’t cheap, it was clearly not the home of a wealthy man. Ryan wore socks that cost hundreds of dollars; the shirt on my back was years old. Victoria picked up her phone and dialed her assistant, Quinn. “Mr.… Ms. Davenport, how can I help you?” It was clear Quinn was still adjusting to the temporary change in leadership. Victoria’s voice was unconsciously commanding. “Four years ago, the house I had you purchase in The Crestwood, and the eight-million-dollar settlement. Did you deliver it personally to my ex-husband?” Eight million dollars? Thea and I could have lived comfortably for the rest of our lives. Quinn hesitated. “Well… you’ll probably have to ask Mr. Ryan about that…” Him again. A surge of pure hatred rose in my chest. Ryan had already taken so much. If he dared to steal from my daughter, I would make him regret it. At seven o’clock, I brought the custom-designed ‘Poppy the Lamb’ cake to the table. Thea squealed with delight. “Wow, Daddy, you’re the best! I love you so much!” Messages flooded the parents’ group chat. “Did your dad make that himself? It looks even better than the custom one I ordered from the bakery! I’m so jealous!” “Thea’s dad is so talented. He can do fox face paint, make handmade purses, carve fruit into flowers, and now this amazing cake…” These past four years, I’d done every odd job imaginable to make ends meet. It had forced me to become a jack-of-all-trades. Thea carefully cut the cake, giving the first piece to me and the second to Victoria. “Mommy, this is the first birthday you’ve ever spent with me. I’m so happy.” Victoria, who had been staring blankly at her phone, snapped back to reality and accepted the plate with exaggerated enthusiasm. I knew what she was thinking about. Today was also Ryan’s birthday. For the past four years, she had celebrated with him. It wasn’t a coincidence that my daughter and my rival shared a birthday. When she was nine months pregnant, Ryan, no longer content with sending me taunting texts and photos, decided to escalate things. He would mail me the cheap trinkets that came with the luxury goods Victoria bought for him, little humiliations in a box. Then he showed up at the hospital for a face-to-face confrontation. It was his birthday, and Victoria had just given him a wedding band, promising him the wedding of the century. He had come to personally invite me and my unborn child. In a fit of rage and grief, I had a foolish, tearful fight with Victoria. When she realized her affair was exposed, the shock sent her into premature labor. She hemorrhaged. We almost lost both of them. For the first time, Victoria scolded Ryan. He had looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “I just want to be with you out in the open…” And in the end, she had pulled him into her arms, her heart softening. “Hush. Keeping him around is how I protect you.” On the other side of the wall, I stood in the NICU, looking at my tiny, fragile daughter. All I felt was disgust and utter despair. 4 The pain of that memory was a knife twisting in my gut. Which is why, hearing that Victoria was broke, my only thought was that she deserved it. After the cake, I told her it was time to leave. “I have nowhere to go,” she pleaded, her voice small. I pushed her firmly out the door. “Not my problem. Go find him.” The hallway light flickered on, then off, leaving her in darkness. She stood outside my door for a long time before her body slid to the floor, her head bowed in defeat. Of course, Ryan had been her first stop. Victoria had thought that after four years of being lavished with affection, of having every whim catered to, Ryan would be frantic upon hearing of her misfortune. She imagined he would move heaven and earth to help her. All he had to do was sell one of the properties she’d bought him. That would be enough. He would have passed her test. She didn’t want to make it too hard for him. But when Ryan saw her standing there in a sanitation worker’s uniform, a look of involuntary disgust flashed across his face. A needle pricked her heart. He quickly masked it with a smile and welcomed her inside, assuming this was all part of some elaborate birthday surprise. A prank, leading up to a grand reveal. But a moment later, his phone buzzed. It was a group chat with Victoria’s wealthy friends. “The Davenports are finished. Even her parents fled the country overnight.” “The company was sold and they’re still a billion in debt. Victoria will be paying that off for the rest of her life.” “Not necessarily. She bought Ryan all those houses and luxury items. He can sell them to pay it off. Of course, then he’ll have to live a simple life with her.” Someone remembered. Isn’t Ryan in this chat? Another friend cursed. He was immediately kicked from the group. Ryan’s eyes widened. The cruelty of it was breathtaking. Just yesterday, they were calling him their dear friend. Now, they kicked him out with an insult. The storm was coming, and he had to save himself. “Your family is bankrupt? What’s that got to do with me? Do we have a marriage license? Do your parents even accept me? Why should I have to sell my property for your family’s problems?” Victoria’s heart hammered against her ribs. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This couldn’t be the gentle, understanding man she loved. “What are you saying? I’ve given you everything but a ring on your finger! I practically tore my heart out for you. I gave up my husband and my child for you.” She thought appealing to his sentiment would work. She was wrong. Ryan let out a derisive laugh. “You gave me those things willingly. I’ve never heard of someone asking for a gift back. I slept with you for four years. You didn’t expect that for free, did you?” He leaned in closer. “Besides…” Seeing the raw pain in her eyes only made him more contemptuous. “A woman who would abandon her own husband and child… you think I’d ever truly trust you?” “You almost died giving birth to a daughter you don’t even care about. How do I know you wouldn’t do the same to me if someone new came along?” Victoria swayed on her feet, unable to form a rebuttal. Ryan was tapping away on his phone. “Since you’re useless to me now, let me tell you a little secret. You want to know why your husband was so desperate to divorce you?” “From the first time you slept with me, I sent him everything. Pictures from our dates. Pictures from our bed. Pictures of every gift you ever gave me.” “I have to hand it to him, he put up with it for a long time. I had to push him to a complete mental breakdown before he finally snapped. I’m not as stupid as he is. I wasn’t going to be your free nanny and sperm donor…” A lightning bolt seared through Victoria’s mind. So, Liam had given her chances. So many chances. Ryan dropped the act entirely. “Listen, Victoria, I dug through all your social media the day I started at the company. I know everything you like. You thought we had this amazing connection? It was just me doing my homework… God, it was exhausting trying to keep you entertained.” Victoria finally snapped. She lunged forward, her hands closing around his throat, a primal scream building inside her. “You… you were only after my money! You used me! You destroyed my marriage! You nearly killed my child! My father was right. You’re poison!” Before she could finish, security guards Ryan had called dragged her away and threw her out of the building. It was the end of June, but Victoria was shivering, an unnatural cold seeping into her bones. Just then, her phone buzzed. A group chat named “His True Colors.” The same friends from before were waiting for the results. “Tori, we just put on the performance of a lifetime. Is Ryan selling his condos to save you as we speak?” Victoria’s fingers flew across the screen, her knuckles white. “His last name is not Ryan. It’s the one I threw away. And I’m going to get him back.” 5 At 7:20 the next morning, I opened my door to find a tall figure sprawled across my welcome mat. I stepped over Victoria’s waist. Thea, her backpack on, giggled and hopped over her. Victoria sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and scrambled to her feet. She instinctively reached out and took Thea’s hand. I was about to knock her hand away. But then Thea beamed, her smile wide and bright. “Mommy, can you wait at the school gate for a little while after you drop me off? I want everyone to know I have a mommy. Then they’ll stop saying mean things about Daddy, and those other moms will stop bothering him…” “Thea!” I cut her off sharply. Victoria looked at me, her expression filled with a sorrow I hadn’t seen before. I used to be as harmless as a sloth. Now I was sharp-edged and defensive. She could only imagine the kind of harassment and gossip that could forge such a transformation. Victoria lifted Thea into her arms. “Okay. I won’t just wait for a little while. From now on, Mommy will be with you and Daddy every single day.” She reached for my hand. I pulled away. Filthy. Victoria was nearly six feet tall. Standing at the entrance to the preschool, she was impossible to miss and caused an immediate stir. “Thea, is that your mom? She’s so pretty! She and your dad look perfect together.” “Why does your dad look so mad? He’s not even talking to your mom…” I wanted nothing to do with her, but the matter of the house still needed to be resolved. For now, we were temporary allies. I got on the bus and sat in the very back. Victoria sat down next to me. As the bus lurched forward, I immediately moved to another seat. Not used to public transport, she tried to follow, lost her balance, and stumbled, hitting her head. A cold smile touched my lips. The house had people living in it. An elderly couple. The moment they saw Victoria, they pulled her inside. They were Ryan’s parents. Victoria was stunned. I laughed. It all made perfect sense now. Ryan had stolen the house meant for me and Thea and used it to house his own parents. The penthouse was over 3,000 square feet, with marble floors and smart home technology throughout. A dozen beautifully decorated rooms. Even their dog had its own room. In our small rental, Thea slept in the master bedroom, which was barely 150 square feet. We had to use vertical space just to fit all her things. This kitchen was equipped with an automatic food processor, a stir-fry machine, and a dishwasher—a completely hands-off setup. Meanwhile, I spent my days chopping fruit at a bubble tea shop until my hands ached so badly I could barely lift them. At night, I’d slap on a pain patch and force myself to cook dinner. The more I thought about it, the more a crushing weight settled on my chest. I had to crouch down, taking deep breaths to keep from blacking out. Four years of exhaustion washed over me in a tidal wave. The first year after the divorce was the hardest. Major companies saw “single father with a three-month-old infant” on my application and politely declined. I had to take cash-in-hand jobs at places with flexible, tolerant environments. A one-year-old is expensive and gets sick easily. Money disappeared as soon as it came in. I started working multiple jobs. I lived on coffee, often working around the clock, sleeping in my clothes. I had no one to rely on, not a single family member to give me a hand. My spirit was a rubber band stretched to its absolute limit. It was about to snap. My knees buckled. Victoria rushed to my side, her arms wrapping around me, her voice laced with a genuine, forgotten tenderness. “Liam. Liam, don’t think about it. I’m here now. I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” When I was a kid, other students used to taunt me for not having parents. Victoria would march right over and start a fight. I’d patch up her scrapes, and she’d make me the same promise, that she would protect me for life. But in the end, all the storms in my life had been brought by her. If she hadn’t lost everything, would she have ever remembered that old promise? 6 Victoria’s panic was palpable. She hoisted me up by my shoulders, trying to drag me. I was gasping for air, like a drowning man. She wanted to take me to the hospital. I pointed across the street to the bubble tea shop. “Just… get me a milk tea.” Half a cup of the warm, sugary drink later, the color returned to my face. It was a stress-induced condition, something akin to a panic attack. A little sugar, and it would pass. Victoria stared, dumbfounded. Then she said, “Well… I’ll take you out for a proper meal.” In her sixty-dollar sneakers, she started walking towards a high-end restaurant. I grabbed her arm. “Aren’t you broke? You need to save your money.” The confident stride faltered. She seemed to remember her role and tugged awkwardly at her cheap clothes. I found a hole-in-the-wall diner. Victoria’s expression was a mix of confusion and disgust. “Can you even eat food this cheap?” I understood. She and Ryan would order takeout that cost upwards of three hundred dollars. I used to be a delivery driver; I made a few bucks per order. I’d seen those expensive orders come through more than once, but I always passed them to my colleagues. The delivery address was my old home. I refused to serve my ex-wife and her lover. Now, Victoria devoured a five-dollar plate of beef stir-fry and two bowls of rice. “Ask Quinn,” I said, “if that house was registered under my name and Thea’s.” When she got the confirmation, a massive weight lifted from my chest. Thank God, Quinn was reliable. After we ate, I went straight to the County Registrar’s Office to report a lost deed. Forty minutes later, I had a new, official copy in my hand. Owners: Liam C. and Thea C. I ran my thumb over the crisp red cover. I felt grounded for the first time in years. Next, I stopped at a digital superstore. An hour later, I knocked on the penthouse door. “Sir, Ma’am, I’m very sorry, but this property belongs to me and my daughter. Your son has been illegally occupying it for four years. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Ryan’s parents weren’t malicious people, so I treated them with respect. When they saw the new deed, their faces went white. His father immediately called his son. “How could you take someone else’s house? You told us Victoria gave it to us out of respect! I’ve never taken a penny that wasn’t mine in my entire life. You’ve brought shame on this family.” From the other room, Victoria called out, “I gave you no such thing.” I twisted the knife. “He didn’t just steal the house. While my ex-wife was pregnant, your son interfered in our marriage, directly causing its collapse. After the divorce, he stole the settlement money and property that was meant for me and my daughter—the very home you’re living in. Because of him, my daughter and I have struggled for four years.” Ryan’s father’s eyes were wide with horror. He stomped his foot in anguish. I then showed him every single taunting message Ryan had sent me. I’d saved them all. Victoria’s ears turned bright red. She shrank away into a corner. So, the cheater was capable of shame after all. The Ryan in those messages was lewd, shameless, and arrogant. His father looked like he was about to have a stroke, crying out, “How did I raise such a shameless monster!” With that, he tried to kneel before me. “Young man, I am so sorry! Please accept my apology!” I helped him up. Ryan wasn’t here yet. It wasn’t time for kneeling. When Ryan arrived, he was greeted by several hard slaps from his father. Even after the beating, Ryan held his head high. “So what if I took his woman and his house? Is the world a fair place? Am I supposed to be like you, all high and mighty, and stay poor my whole life?” He looked from me to Victoria, not an ounce of remorse on his face, only a smug satisfaction. “Even without this place, I have four other properties, two luxury cars, and twenty million in the bank. Countless designer goods. Right now, I’m the richest person in this room!” “The two of you,” he sneered, “one is bankrupt, the other is a wage slave. You think you can fight me? Let’s see if you can even afford a lawyer. Let’s see how long you can last.” 7 Ryan’s audacity was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. Without him, my daughter should have been living like a princess, carefree and provided for. He was still gloating. “Liam, if you get on your knees right now and bow to me a hundred times, I’ll forgive you and your daughter.” Thump. Thump. With tears streaming down their faces, his parents fell to their knees before me, bowing their heads to the floor. “This is a sin! Young man, our whole family has wronged you. We failed as parents. We’ll move out immediately.” The scene stunned Ryan into silence. I didn’t tell the old couple to get up. Instead, I mirrored his earlier arrogance. “You see that? You hurt me and my daughter without a second thought, and the consequences fall on your parents.” “There’s nothing wrong with ambition. But ambition should drive you to work hard and succeed, not to abandon your morals for a shortcut. Anything given to you can be taken away at any moment.” Ryan’s face darkened. I suspected Victoria, for all her infatuation, hadn’t willingly gifted him every single car and property. He was preying on her weakness for him. I pressed my advantage. “You know why you can’t have a child? Because you built your life on my pain and suffering. You’ve severed your own fate with any future children. Even a soul would be too ashamed to be born to a father like you!” I’d noticed the herbal medicines at the villa the last time I was there. I had worked in an apothecary once; I recognized them immediately as fertility treatments. His deepest insecurity exposed, Ryan’s face contorted with rage. He lunged at me. Victoria, who had been silent until now, stepped between us, grabbing his arm. And that was all. Ryan smirked, looking at me with the confidence of a winner. Of course. Victoria had always been on his side. Unconditionally. The last time I’d forced Ryan to drink toilet water, she had rushed in and shoved me so hard my back slammed into the sink. I’d crumpled to the floor, the pain so sharp it took me five minutes to get up, watching helplessly as she fussed over him and led him away. Right or wrong, Victoria always left me to stand alone. My hope flickered and died. Even though I had given up on her long ago, a small part of me wished she would, for once, stand up for her own daughter. “Liam, I’ve got him. You hit him. Hit him until you’re satisfied.”

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My mother’s chemotherapy had failed. Her last wish was for one final family dinner. But on that day, my husband Julian’s new flame showed up at our door, pregnant and provocative. The shock was too much for my mother. Her condition worsened, and she passed away that same night. I called him again and again, but he never answered. It wasn’t until after I had arranged the funeral that he finally called back. “She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know any better,” he said, his tone dismissive. “You and your mom shouldn’t take it so seriously.” “Her emotions are all over the place because of the pregnancy. Don’t go looking for trouble with her.” “If you can’t accept her, I’ll make sure she never shows up in front of you again. But she’s the mother of my child, so I have to spend time with her. I’ll be home with you on the weekdays, and I’ll stay with her on the weekends.” Listening to his non-negotiable terms, I didn’t argue. I just gave a quiet “mm-hmm.” Then I turned back to my laptop and submitted my application to Doctors Without Borders. If the promises of our youth were now empty, then I would let him go. And I would let myself go, too. 1 As Julian laid out his new life plan, I calmly scrolled through the requirements for Doctors Without Borders. I met all of them. Without a second thought, I started filling out the application. When he finished speaking, he heard the faint tapping of my keyboard. “Anna, did you hear a word I said?” he asked, a note of annoyance in his voice. “Mm-hmm,” I murmured, a flat acknowledgment. He fell silent, clearly surprised by my easy compliance. After a long pause, he sighed. “Anna, if only you’d always been this agreeable.” His words made me freeze. I remembered the countless fights. In the five years we’d been married, a parade of women had shown up at my door. The first time it happened, I had shattered everything in our living room, screaming at him, demanding to know why he was doing this to me. Back then, his eyes were filled with nothing but exhaustion. “It was for work,” he’d insisted. “We were just playing a part. Nothing happened between us. How many times do I have to tell you that for you to believe me?” He was disappointed by my lack of trust, worn out by my willingness to believe others over him. Afterward, I hated myself. Maybe I was being paranoid. I apologized, begged for his forgiveness. But not long after, the tabloids exploded with photos of him and a famous actress entering a hotel together. I lost my mind again. All I wanted was an explanation. This time, his eyes were filled with disappointment. “Anna, in your eyes, am I really that untrustworthy? If that’s the case, then I’ll be exactly what you think I am.” From that day on, he stopped hiding. He was in the headlines with a different woman every week. I even saw him with my own eyes once, kissing a woman passionately in his car. When I confronted him, he no longer offered explanations. He just met my rage with silence. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve fought over the past five years. All I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion. I had thought about divorcing him, about ending this tragic, ridiculous marriage. But my mother’s greatest wish was to see me happy. She was suffering so much already; I couldn’t bear to add to her pain. So I endured. I ignored everything related to Julian, turned a blind eye to the women who showed up at our door. I thought that by doing so, I could maintain the illusion of happiness. But just before she passed, my mother, her body withered to almost nothing, lay in her hospital bed, tears streaming down her face. “My dear girl,” she whispered, “it’s all my fault… I just wanted you to be happy… If you’re unhappy, you have to let yourself go…” Her last wish had changed from a simple family dinner to my happiness. Thinking of her final words, my eyes welled up. “Julian,” I asked, my voice trembling, “you can’t give me the happiness I want anymore, can you?” 2 He didn’t answer my question directly. He just sighed. “Anna, we’re almost thirty. We need to be more mature. Love… it’s not that important anymore.” It was his way of telling me he didn’t love me. I understood. A laugh escaped my lips, but it was hollow, laced with the sound of a sob. “Okay,” I said. “Then I’ll let you go. And I’ll let myself go.” The moment I said the words, my heart clenched. Five years ago, Julian had said something similar to me. We were living in a tiny, dark apartment, and the only ring he could afford was a simple silver band. He had proposed with such earnest devotion. “Anna, I promise you, wherever I am, that will be your home. I will build you a safe harbor, a place where you will never suffer again. For the rest of your life, you will only know happiness.” I believed him. I said yes. He had reacted like a child given the most precious gift in the world. “Anna,” he’d exclaimed, “from now on, you are my wife! We will never be apart! Don’t you ever think I’ll let you go!” But now, he had forgotten his promise. After I spoke, he didn’t argue. He just said, “Okay. But don’t worry, the title of Mrs. Vance will always be yours. No one can ever take your place.” When we were first married, hearing someone call me Mrs. Vance filled me with pride. Now, the title was just a bitter irony. Since his affairs became public, I was the object of pity in our social circle. Someone had even sneered at me once. “The way Mr. Vance goes through women, who knows how long you’ll be Mrs. Vance. You should try to have a baby while you still can. At least you’ll get a bigger settlement when he divorces you.” “If she could have a baby, don’t you think she would have by now? It’s been five years. I bet she’s barren. That’s why she can’t hold on to him.” They didn’t know that in our first year of marriage, I had been pregnant with our child. Julian was at a networking dinner, and some clients were deliberately trying to humiliate him, forcing him to drink. To close the deal, he endured it all with a smile. I had just finished dinner with some colleagues and saw the whole thing. My heart ached for him. I saw the pain on his face, the way he held his stomach, and I went to get him out of there. But the clients jeered. They said if I drank a glass of whiskey, they’d sign the contract and even pay for our ride home. I knew how much that contract meant to Julian. I couldn’t bear to see him fail. So I took the glass and drank it all. That day, he got the deal he’d been working so hard for. And we lost our first child. After that, no matter how hard we tried, no matter how many doctors we saw, I never got pregnant again. Maybe it was God’s punishment for not protecting my baby. Maybe I just didn’t deserve to be a mother. As Julian’s words hung in the air, a tear I’d been holding back finally fell, landing hot on the back of my cold hand. 3 After my mother’s funeral, I went back to work at the hospital. My mentor, Dr. Evans, had heard about my application to Doctors Without Borders. “Anna,” she said, her voice gentle, “are you sure about this? The next deployment is to a country in the middle of a war. You’ll be facing gunfire every day.” “I’m sure, Dr. Evans. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. I just never had the chance.” Before, I couldn’t leave my sick mother. I couldn’t leave Julian. Now, my mother was gone. And the Julian who had loved me was gone, too. I had no reason to stay. One place was the same as another. I might as well do something meaningful. Seeing my determination, she didn’t press the issue. She gave me a few words of advice and left my office. Just as she walked out, Julian walked in. “Where did you just say you wanted to go?” he asked, a frown on his face. I paused what I was doing and looked up at him. “Traveling,” I said calmly. “I haven’t really gone anywhere since I started working.” He knew that in college, I was always taking trips with my friends. He didn’t seem suspicious. “That’s a good idea,” he said. “It’ll be good for you. Oh, by the way, Noelle needs to come to this hospital for a prenatal check-up. Can you arrange a time for her?” He was so direct. Not even a hint of pretense. A sharp pain lanced through me. I thought of the child we had lost. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him if he ever thought of our baby while he was so eagerly awaiting this one. But I bit back the words. What was the point? The past was the past. He had probably forgotten anyway. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “All the doctors at this hospital are very responsible. You can just book an appointment and wait in line like everyone else.” Just then, a familiar figure appeared at the door. Noelle, her baby bump prominent, walked in and took Julian’s arm. “Julian, honey,” she said, her voice a wounded whisper, “does Dr. Hayes not want to help us? It’s all my fault, I forgot to make an appointment. I’m so sorry to waste your time.” Julian didn’t push her away. He gently squeezed her hand. “It’s no waste of time to be with you and our baby. If she won’t help, it’s fine. I’ll wait with you.” He saw the fatigue in her eyes, leaned in, and kissed her forehead, murmuring words of comfort. The tender scene was like a knife in my heart. There was a time when he had been that gentle with me. He would make silly faces to cheer me up, spend all his money on a necklace I wanted just to see me smile. He used to say that whatever other girls had, I would have too. He worked so hard, and no matter how exhausted he was, he would come home with a smile, telling me funny stories about his day. He’d stay up late just to listen to me talk, even when he could barely keep his eyes open. He said it made him feel complete. I don’t know when it changed, but we went from having endless conversations to sitting in silence. I looked away. I couldn’t watch anymore. But Julian seemed to remember something. “What happened the other day was Noelle’s fault,” he said. “I had someone buy some gifts. We’ll bring them to your mom later to apologize.” “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice flat. “She doesn’t need them anymore.” 4 The day my mother died, I had called him countless times. All I got was a cold, mechanical voice on the other end. With each unanswered call, my initial rage slowly cooled into a numb emptiness. I had thought about hunting them down, making them pay for what they did to my mother. But whenever I closed my eyes, I heard her last words. She told me not to blame anyone, not to live with hatred. She wanted to see me free, happy, living my life to the fullest. And I would honor her wish. Julian, however, misunderstood my words. He thought I was still holding a grudge against Noelle. “Anna,” he said, his brow furrowed, “you don’t need to hold on to such a small thing. It’s in the past.” It was in the past for him. For me, it would never be. I looked at him, my eyes cold. “My mother is gone. You won’t be able to find her.” “Anna! Don’t be ridiculous! She’s your mother, how can you say such things? She’s so sick, where else would she be but the hospital?” My mother had treated him better than she treated me. She always saved the best for him. When his business was failing, she had given him her life savings to pull him out of debt. And because of him, she couldn’t even die in peace. Noelle chimed in. “Dr. Hayes, I know you and your mother are upset with me. I apologize, okay? Julian is really worried about her. Can’t you just stop being difficult?” “You don’t have the right to speak her name!” Hearing her mention my mother, the dam of my anger finally broke. “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” I stood up, pointing to the door. Julian immediately moved to shield her, as if I were going to attack her. His eyes turned cold. “Anna, throwing a patient out of your office… is this your idea of professional ethics?” He pulled out his phone and, right in front of me, dialed the hospital’s complaint line. “I’d like to report Dr. Anna Hayes in surgery for a serious breach of medical ethics…” He was going to teach me a lesson, he said. Watching him, my calm facade finally cracked. He didn’t wait for me to say anything. He just turned and left with Noelle. As they walked out, she looked back over her shoulder and gave me a triumphant smile. See? it said. He’s on my side. You’ve lost. Soon after, I received an official warning from the hospital administration. When Dr. Evans heard, she helped me appeal to the board, and they allowed me to take an early leave to prepare for my deployment. After completing the paperwork, I went home. Julian wasn’t there, but his social media was constantly updated. A picture of Noelle’s ultrasound, sharing his joy about becoming a father. A photo of the nursery he was putting together himself, with the caption: “Come out soon, little one. Mommy and Daddy can’t wait to meet you.” He hadn’t blocked me from seeing his posts. I stared at the screen for a moment, then calmly liked his latest post. When I checked again later, I found that he had blocked me. I wasn’t angry. I opened his profile and, just as he had done to me, I blocked him. From now on, we would be strangers. For the next few days, Julian felt a persistent sense of unease. He was so distracted he didn’t even hear Noelle when she called his name. He chalked it up to the guilt of not visiting my mother. One day, he left work early and bought a basket of expensive gifts, heading straight for the hospital. But a nurse told him, “Dr. Hayes’s mother? She passed away a few days ago. We were the ones who took her to the crematorium. You’re her son-in-law… didn’t you know?”

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At a party with my fiancée Jenna and her friends, she said she had to step out. Two hours later, she still wasn’t back. As I went to look for her, I heard her best friends speaking in Spanish—a language they thought I didn’t understand. “This idiot has no idea he’s being cheated on,” one laughed. Another added, “I bet Jenna and Leo are really going at it. She said Creed isn’t as big as Leo anyway. Poor fool—we’re tearing him apart and he doesn’t even know.” I stood frozen, my mind blank. Just then, Jenna walked in, flushed and satisfied. “How was it?” her friend asked in Spanish. “A thrill?” “Completely,” Jenna replied huskily. “I couldn’t get enough.” 1 Leo followed her in, casually draping an arm over her shoulder like he always did—the quintessential guy-best-friend. But now, I saw it. A cluster of angry purple hickeys blooming on the pale skin of her neck. I collapsed back onto the sofa, the air punched from my lungs. A cold wave of despair washed over me. Her friends, like a pack of hyenas, kept prodding her in Spanish, demanding details of her tryst. Jenna, perhaps pricked by a sliver of guilt, instinctively pushed Leo’s hand away and glanced at me. She crossed the room and sat down beside me. “Hey, what are you so nervous about?” one of her friends teased. “He can’t understand a word we’re saying. If we were speaking French or something, then you’d have to worry!” “Yeah, with Spanish, he’s totally lost. Right, guys? Hahaha!” “You all are so mean, ganging up on the poor gringo.” Hearing that, Jenna seemed to relax. She leaned in and pressed a light, meaningless kiss to my lips. “Creed, honey, don’t mind them,” she said in English. “We all grew up together, so we always slip back into Spanish when we’re hanging out. It’s just a habit.” My hand, hidden by my side, clenched into a fist so tight my knuckles ached. What they didn’t know was that my mother is from Puerto Rico. I grew up speaking Spanish. I understood every damn word. Seeing my silence, they took it as indifference and dove back into their game. “Come on, Jenna, tell the truth. Is Leo bigger than him? I’ve got money riding on this.” Jenna’s lips curved into a smug smile. “Of course, he is.” Friend #1: “Look at that satisfied glow. You’re practically purring.” Friend #2: “God, this is so much fun! Who knew our secret language would be this useful? Look at that idiot, just sitting there like a lost puppy, not understanding a thing.” Leo shot me a look of pure contempt and then mouthed to Jenna. “Jenna, just marry me. Why are you with him?” Jenna just laughed, her hand moving to my shoulder, kneading the tense muscle as she spoke in a mocking tone. “Marry you? Don’t be ridiculous.” “I know the difference between reality and a good time. You’re for fun, Leo. A thrill. You’re my stress relief in bed. But Creed… Creed is the one I love.” “Could you put me first in everything? Could you treat me like a princess? No. You have a temper. Only Creed can do that. I had a fever once when he was on a business trip overseas, and one phone call had him on the next flight back.” The memory, which once warmed me, now felt like acid in my veins. All my devotion, all my love… and this is how she repaid me. With betrayal. “Shit,” Leo suddenly said. “I forgot to wear a condom. You might be in trouble.” “Damn it, Leo! How could you be so stupid? Go buy me a Plan B, now!” “Hey,” he said with a wicked grin. “Why don’t we make Creed go? If we’re going to play, let’s go all the way.” “You…” Leo picked up his wine glass and downed it in one go, a silent declaration that he was in no condition to drive. In the end, Jenna turned to me. “Creed, honey, could you run to the pharmacy for me? I need you to pick up a box of the morning-after pill. We might… need it tonight.” 2 The knuckles of my clenched fist cracked. There wasn’t a decent person in the entire room. I had so badly misjudged Jenna. In the three years we’d known each other, she’d cultivated this image of a sweet, innocent girl. She’d always said that cheating was the one thing she could never forgive. It was all a lie. She was the cheater. I lifted my head, my eyes locking with hers. The cold fury in my gaze must have startled her, because her smile faltered. “Creed? What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” She reached out to touch my forehead, but the lingering scent of another man on her skin made me recoil in disgust. “Jenna,” I said, my voice flat. “I think we need to postpone the wedding.” Real panic flashed in her eyes. She grabbed my arm. “Creed, what are you talking about?” I pulled my arm free. A bitter smile touched my lips. “Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.” “I just think… we’re rushing things. We’re still young. Maybe you should have some more fun before we talk about settling down.” Her panic melted into a relieved, radiant smile. She threw her arms around me, burying her head in my chest. “I knew you were the best,” she murmured. “Thank you for always thinking of me.” She had no idea that I was already done with her. She shot a triumphant look over my shoulder at Leo and her friends. “Wow, what a keeper! A real simp.” “His ancestors must be so proud.” They were laughing at me, calling me a fool, a pushover. I didn’t care. Let them laugh. Anyone who makes a fool out of me will end up becoming the joke themselves. I turned and walked out the door to buy her damn pill. The moment I was gone, I heard them fall into each other’s arms, the sound of their passionate kissing echoing in the hall. “Damn, girl. Two guys at once. Only you could pull that off.” “Oh, shut up. Like you’re any different.” “Well, I’ve got to go. My god-tier hookup is waiting for me at the hotel, all showered and ready.” Hearing that, I quickened my pace. Outside, the sky had opened up. Rain soaked through my clothes, leaving me looking as pathetic as I felt. When I returned with the pills, the room was filled with raucous laughter. They all looked at me, not a trace of shame on their faces, and continued their conversation in Spanish. “How about we go hiking tomorrow?” “Ugh, no. Too much effort.” “It won’t be tiring if we find a quiet spot off the trail,” Leo said with a wink. “For some… exploring.” He nudged Jenna’s foot with his, and her eyes lit up. They all watched me, their smiles dripping with condescension, treating me like their personal plaything. The next day, Jenna took me on a trip to a state park outside the city, saying we were going to go hiking. At the trailhead, her friends were already joking around. “You guys are wild,” one said in Spanish. “Bringing Creed along while you two sneak off? Aren’t you afraid he’ll find out?” “If we don’t tell him, who will? It’s not like he knows the trails.” “That’s what makes it so thrilling! The risk, the danger! Hahaha!” With that, Jenna grabbed my hand and led me down the path. It wasn’t long before she stopped, feigning an upset stomach. “I need to find a bathroom, quick. Can you wait here and make sure no one comes this way?” A dull, numb ache spread through my chest. I couldn’t believe the woman I loved could be so shameless. She was carrying a backpack, and I knew what was inside. Lingerie. Toys. I had heard her packing it last night while I pretended to be asleep, whispering to Leo on the phone about what positions they should try. I hadn’t slept a wink. Instead, I had sent a message to my boss. I told her I was ready to take the transfer to the Paris office. I was moving to France. I would never see Jenna again. 3 She was practically bouncing on her feet with anticipation. Watching her hurry away, my heart twisted. I followed her, keeping a safe distance, and hid behind a large oak tree. And there, I watched it all unfold. I watched Jenna and Leo tangle together on a blanket spread over the grass. She pulled out a slinky, silk nightgown. Leo told her he wanted to be the one to put it on her. Their shameless laughter echoed through the woods as they began their sordid affair. Jenna kissed him fiercely. “The grass is kind of scratchy,” she complained. Leo just chuckled, nipping at her ear. “You have to try everything once, right? Isn’t this kind of thrill what you live for?” “You’re terrible!” “Hahaha! And that idiot has no idea. He’s standing guard for us right now, completely clueless.” “You’re so bad! Making me do this. If Creed finds out, you’re in deep trouble.” “Oh, you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. You’d miss this way too much.” I stood frozen, a wave of disbelief washing over me. Hearing them describe it was one thing, but seeing it with my own eyes… the pain was a physical, stabbing sensation that no one else could possibly understand. “Okay, we need to hurry,” Jenna said after a while. “Creed’s still waiting.” “No way. I’m not done with you yet.” I had never seen this side of her. So wild, so unrestrained. I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned to leave. My mind was a chaotic mess. I took a wrong step, my foot slipping on the muddy ground, and I tumbled down a steep embankment. My reflexes kicked in, and my hand shot out, grabbing hold of a thick tree root just in time. “Help!” I yelled, my voice raw. “Somebody, help me!” I shouted until my throat was hoarse, hoping they would hear me. Nothing. Gritting my teeth, I held onto the root with one hand and fumbled for my phone with the other. I called Jenna. It rang and rang. She was lost in her own world of pleasure. Finally, just as I was about to lose hope, she answered, her voice thick with annoyance. “Creed? I’m kind of busy right now. Don’t call me, you’re ruining the mood. My stomach hurts.” “I don’t know, I must have eaten something bad last night.” I didn’t waste time. “Jenna, you need to come help me. I fell. I’m about to fall off the ledge.” Her response was cold and dismissive. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’s not that steep. You city boys are always so delicate.” My grip was failing. The root snapped. I plunged downwards, tumbling over and over, my body slamming against rocks and earth until I finally came to a stop. A searing pain shot through my leg. It was covered in blood. I nearly passed out. Through the haze of pain, I realized the call was still connected. I could hear Jenna’s soft moans through the phone. She must have heard my screams, the sickening thud of my landing, and she had done nothing. Her priorities were clear. Between love and lust, she had chosen lust. In that moment, something inside me died. I closed my eyes, my face a mask of ashes. I was done with her. Completely and utterly done. 4 She never came looking for me. It grew dark. She never called to see if I was okay. I dragged my broken body down the mountain, step by agonizing step. It was an ambulance, called by another hiker, that finally took me away. Jenna and her friends were long gone. It wasn’t until late that night that she finally remembered me. When she called, her voice was dripping with accusation. “Creed, where are you?” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” “You went to ‘find a bathroom’ and disappeared for hours. What was I supposed to think?” The anger I had suppressed for so long finally boiled over. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you accusing me of something? After I was done, I came back to find you, but you were gone! I looked everywhere. I lost cell service. I was worried sick! I even fell and hurt my leg looking for you!” Hah. She hurt her leg looking for me. The irony was suffocating. I told her which hospital I was in. Less than half an hour later, she limped into my room, followed by Leo and her pack of loyal friends. Seeing my bandaged leg, Jenna’s face crumpled with guilt. “Oh, Creed, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I never should have dragged you out there.” She leaned over me. “Does it still hurt? I’m not leaving your side. I’m staying right here with you.” But I couldn’t stand the sight of her. The thought of her touch made my skin crawl. She wouldn’t let go, hugging me tightly, as if her performance of regret could undo the damage. I couldn’t push her away, so I relented. “You’re hurt too. You should get some rest.” “No, my injury is nothing. I only care about you.” Her persistence was exhausting. I finally gave in. Thinking my anger had subsided, she let go and started peeling an apple for me. As she fed me slices, she started chattering with her friends in Spanish. “Luckily, I’m smart enough to fake a limp. It makes me look pathetic. It’s the perfect excuse for taking so long.” “Tsk, you’re a genius.” “I know, right? Look at my Creed. He’s already forgotten all about yesterday.” “That damn simp. He forgave you that quickly.” “Of course, he did. Because my Creed loves me.” My body went rigid. The air in my lungs turned to stone. Why was her entire life a lie? For a fleeting moment, I had almost believed she was really hurt, had almost considered forgiving her. I was a fool. This woman was incapable of telling the truth. Then, right there in front of me, they started reliving their little adventure in the woods, laughing about the details. They bragged about their sexual histories, throwing condescending glances my way. The day I was discharged from the hospital was the day of our engagement party. Jenna was breathtaking in a stunning evening gown. Leo stood right behind her. He took her hand, his voice laced with emotion. “Jenna, are you really going to marry him? What about me? What am I?” “You’re my plaything.” “But I love you.” “And I love Creed more. After we’re married, this is over between us. I’m going to change. I’m going to be a good wife.” I watched the scene on the security monitor in my apartment as I packed my last suitcase and chatted on the phone with my boss. “The flight leaves in about two hours. I’m heading out now. See you in Paris.” I hung up, zipped my suitcase, and walked out without a backward glance. But before I left, I had one last gift for Jenna. At the party, Jenna was growing anxious, constantly scanning the crowd for me. She pulled out her phone, but before she could dial, my best friend, Mark, intercepted her, a glass of champagne in his hand. “Congratulations, Jenna!” he said with a wide grin. “My buddy Creed… he takes relationships very seriously. Don’t you worry, he’ll be here on time.” He paused, then added, “Oh, but he does have one flaw. He absolutely cannot stand betrayal.” Jenna managed a tight, forced smile. Just as she was about to reply, Mark snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot to tell you the craziest thing! We’re all from the same area, you know? Creed too. Before he moved to New York, he grew up in the same region as you. His town was right next to yours.” “Look, here’s a copy of his old ID. I’m not kidding. I can even prove it.” And then, Mark switched to fluent, perfect Spanish.

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I had just flown back to the city after finishing my design degree abroad. The moment I landed, my grandfather informed me that a marriage had been arranged for me since birth. He promptly dragged me to the Ashworth estate to finalize the engagement. I got bored listening to the old men drone on, so I slipped out to wander through the family’s sprawling gardens. Suddenly, a woman stormed up to me and slapped me hard across the face. “Who the hell are you, you little tramp? How dare you steal my things!” I cupped my stinging cheek, staring at her in shock. She tilted her head back, her voice dripping with the kind of arrogance that sounded like charity. “That ruby on your finger? That was a birthday gift from Mr. Ashworth himself! Can a little charity case like you even afford to wear something like that?” My mouth fell open. I was about to tell her it was mine when she slapped me again, even harder this time. “Do you have any idea who I am? I am the future Mrs. Ashworth! This entire estate will be mine one day!” I pulled out my phone, and right in front of her, I sent a message to the contact saved as “Fiancé.” “Stanley Ashworth, there’s a rabid dog in your garden. Are you going to handle it, or should I?” 1 To my surprise, the message was immediately followed by a red exclamation mark. I almost laughed. The engagement wasn’t even official, and he’d already blocked me. “Where did you sneak in from? Give Miss Vance back her property this instant!” An older maid rushed toward me, but I sidestepped her easily. “I am an honored guest of the Ashworth family,” I said, my voice cold. “Is this how you treat your guests?” Penelope Vance scoffed and pulled out her own phone, dialing the man who was supposed to be my fiancé. A deep, smooth voice answered on the first ring. “What is it, Penny?” Not bad, I thought. He has a nice voice. Grandfather has good taste, at least in that. “Stanley, darling! There’s some wretched girl who snuck into your house claiming to be a guest, and she stole the ring you gave me!” I cut through her sickeningly sweet tone before he could get the wrong idea. “Mr. Ashworth, my name is Seraphina Blackwood. I’m your fiancée.” He paused for a beat, as if trying to place the name. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with ice. “What fiancée? No one enters the Ashworth estate without an invitation. Otherwise, you’ll be dealt with as a trespasser.” Then, his tone melted back to honey. “Penny, don’t be upset. It’s just a ring. I’ll buy you a new one when I get back.” This pigeon’s blood ruby was my parents’ engagement ring. There wasn’t another one like it in the entire world. As I was seriously reconsidering the wisdom of this alliance, Penelope was bent over laughing, her eyes raking over me with contempt. “You? Look at you! Your clothes don’t even have a brand name! And you have the nerve to call yourself Stanley’s fiancée? That’s hilarious!” I had been studying fashion design abroad. The clothes I was wearing were my own creations, of course they didn’t have a label. My designs were already sought after by socialites across Europe, but this woman didn’t recognize them. It made me question her credentials. Her little scene had ruined my mood. I turned to leave. Penelope blocked my path. “Didn’t you hear Stanley? You need an invitation to be here! You claim to be a guest? Where is it?” I rolled my eyes and dug into my pockets, but came up empty. I suddenly remembered my grandfather saying we wouldn’t need one. She saw my hesitation, and her smirk widened. “I knew it! You’re a liar! Guards! Get the ring off her finger, tie her up, and throw her out!” I shielded the ring with one hand and took a step back, my expression hardening. Several household staff members approached me, one of them speaking with a hint of pity. “Miss, you should just give the ring back to Miss Vance. If you don’t, you won’t even know what hit you.” “Yeah, that ring is a symbol of their love. Mr. Ashworth and Miss Vance grew up together. He won’t spare you when he finds out.” “I saw it with my own eyes. A guy once spilled a drink on Miss Vance’s dress. The next day, his hand was just… gone.” The staff’s warnings only fueled Penelope’s sneer. “Did you hear that? Now, get on your knees, place this ring respectfully in my hand, and then get the hell out of here. Otherwise, you’ll end up just like the man who dirtied my dress.” 2 In my entire life, I had only ever seen people kneel before me. The last person who dared to speak to me like that has been fertilizing a patch of daisies for years. I stepped forward and slapped Penelope across the face. Her head snapped to the side, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You dare hit me?!” she shrieked, clutching her cheek and ordering the maids to attack. A smirk played on my lips. Before I went abroad, my grandfather, fearing I’d be vulnerable on my own, had personally arranged for me to be trained in Krav Maga. A few beefy housekeepers were nothing. A few quick strikes sent them stumbling back, dazed and confused. “Pathetic,” I muttered, shaking out my slightly numb fist. I turned to leave, ignoring Penelope’s enraged screams. Suddenly, one of the maids shouted, “Mr. Ashworth is back!” I looked up to see a man in a perfectly tailored suit striding toward us, his face a mask of cold fury. In an instant, Penelope’s vicious expression melted away, replaced by one of heartbreaking fragility. She threw herself into Stanley Ashworth’s arms. “Stanley, darling! You’re finally back! I was being bullied so horribly!” I had to admit, Stanley Ashworth was handsome enough to be a movie star. It was a shame that, knowing full well he was engaged to me, he was now cradling his childhood sweetheart with such tender concern. I curled my lip in disgust. I needed to call my grandfather and tell him this wedding was absolutely, unequivocally off. I ignored their little melodrama and headed for the garden exit. “Stop right there,” Stanley’s voice cut through the air, cold as steel. “You think you can just walk away after touching my woman?” He didn’t even look at me, his attention focused on gently wiping away Penelope’s tears. From behind him, several large bodyguards moved to block my path. I let out a resigned sigh and turned back to him. “Mr. Ashworth, my grandfather is currently in your grandfather’s study discussing our engagement. If they were to find out about this, it wouldn’t look good for you, would it?” At the mention of his grandfather, the maids’ expressions flickered. “What? Is she really his fiancée?” “Who cares? Look how protective he is of Miss Vance. This engagement might not even happen.” “Exactly. We’d better not say the wrong thing and get on Miss Vance’s bad side. With her temper, she’ll make our lives a living hell.” The word “engagement” seemed to enrage Stanley even more. His face darkened. “What engagement? I never agreed to anything. Besides, my grandfather adores me. He would never force me to marry some nobody from God knows where.” Penelope looked up from his embrace, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Stanley and I are childhood sweethearts. What right does a common thief have to the title of Mrs. Ashworth?” I nodded slowly. A scumbag and a shrew. They were made for each other. Let them be locked together forever so they couldn’t inflict themselves on anyone else. Still, my grandfather had told me that of all the families who had sought an alliance with ours, the Ashworths had put in the most effort. I had met the elder Mr. Ashworth a few times; he was a kind man. I could only imagine the storm that would erupt when he found out his grandson had single-handedly destroyed the union he had worked so hard to secure. But there was nothing to be done about it. Sometimes a fine bamboo stalk produces a rotten shoot. 3 I shook my head with a sense of pity and was about to leave for good when Penelope shrieked again. “Don’t let her go! The ruby ring you gave me is still on her hand!” At Stanley’s signal, his bodyguards seized me, their hands grabbing for the ring without a shred of gentleness. But the ring had been custom-fitted to my finger. They pulled and twisted, but it wouldn’t budge. “Penelope,” I said, a mocking tone in my voice, “if this ring is yours, why does it fit my finger so perfectly?” My taunt only enraged her further. She shook Stanley’s arm. “She’s fatter than me, obviously! She must have forced it on, and now it’s stuck!” “Then use a power drill!” My face paled. This was bad. I hadn’t brought my own security today. Stanley’s bodyguards were big, and there were too many of them. I fought back, but they quickly found an opening and pinned me to the ground. Penelope crouched in front of me, her eyes alight with manic glee. Her blood-red nails dug into my chin. “Not so tough now, are you?” She slapped me with all her might. The grit from the garden path scraped against my skin, drawing blood. Stanley stared down at me for a moment, a cold smile playing on his lips. “Penny, did you hurt your hand? Want to see something more fun?” Her eyes lit up. “Tie her to the boat in the middle of the pond!” My eyes widened in horror. I looked at Stanley’s face, which was twisted with a strange excitement. Did he know something? “No! You’ll regret this!” I screamed. Penelope’s voice was a cocktail of disdain and thrill. “Regret? That word isn’t in my vocabulary. But you? You’re about to regret ever touching what’s mine.” The guards dragged me to the ornamental pond in the center of the garden and threw me into a rickety old boat, tying me down with coarse rope. Before I could even open my eyes, they flipped me onto my stomach. A high-pitched whirring sound filled the air as a power saw descended toward my hand. A searing pain shot up my arm, and I screamed. Blood splattered onto the pigeon’s blood ruby, making it gleam with a sinister light. “Oh dear, looks like another one’s about to learn a lesson the hard way.” “Such a pretty girl, too. Had to be stubborn. Now Mr. Ashworth won’t let her off. She’ll lose a finger, at least.” “It’s too brutal. I can’t watch.” The maids and servants chattered on the edge of the pond, but their voices were a distant buzz. The pain made me thrash wildly. The old, dilapidated boat rocked violently, slapping against the water. The scene was horribly reminiscent of the night my parents died at sea. A deep-seated terror clawed its way out from the recesses of my mind. My face turned ashen. My hands, acting on their own, flew up to clutch my head as fresh blood from my finger trickled down my cheek. “No! Please! Let me off this boat!” But Penelope and Stanley just stood on the shore, watching the spectacle as if it were a play. He even kicked the boat, sending it drifting toward the center of the pond. I forced my eyes open and saw Penelope clutching the ring, her face a mask of triumph. Stanley had his arm around her, whispering, “That ring is tainted with her filthy blood now. Throw it away. I’ll buy you a new one.” And then, as I screamed, they casually tossed my parents’ ring into the murky water. “Stanley Ashworth! Aren’t you afraid of what my grandfather will do to you?!” 4 He just laughed, his eyes full of contempt, as if he were looking at a piece of trash. “Your grandfather? Who the hell is he to demand an accounting from me?” “Your family is just you and that old fossil now, isn’t it?” “She was bad luck enough to get her own parents killed, and he actually wants me to marry her? In his dreams!” His words—get her own parents killed—were a dagger to my heart. My pupils constricted. On my eighth birthday, my parents were supposed to be on a cruise, coming home to celebrate with me. But a storm had rolled in. The captain of our yacht advised them to wait it out in port. But I had called them, crying, telling them how much I missed them. So they took a smaller boat, determined to make it back for me. Just as they were nearing the shore, a freak squall hit. A fifteen-foot rogue wave crashed over them. Right in front of my eyes, their boat capsized and disappeared into the churning sea. The scene flashed before my eyes, triggered by Stanley’s cruel words. I curled into a ball on the boat, trembling uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face. All I could do was whisper the same words over and over. “Daddy… Mommy… I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to come back for my birthday anymore…” Penelope clapped her hands, delighted by my suffering. “So she’s a jinx! No wonder she has such a foul aura! Stanley, darling, we should stay far away from her, or her bad luck might rub off on us!” Abroad, no one knew my past, so it was never mentioned. At home, to protect me from the pain, my grandfather had forbidden anyone from speaking of it. He’d even had the lake on our estate filled in. The guilt and grief I had suppressed for so long erupted now, a toxic volcano of self-loathing. I felt an overwhelming urge to throw myself into the water and atone for my sins. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was the custom ringtone I had set for my grandfather. A sliver of clarity pierced through the fog of my despair. The Blackwood family was just me and him now. He had already suffered the agony of burying his own children. If I left him, too… I couldn’t bear to think of the consequences. I took a deep breath, fighting down the impulse, and struggled to reach for my phone. But Penelope saw. She ordered one of the guards to throw a rock at me. My body, weakened by the sudden depressive episode, was trembling uncontrollably. The rock hit its mark. My phone flew from my grasp, its screen flickering twice before going dark as it sank into the pond. The rock had also punched two large holes in the bottom of the boat. Icy water seeped through my clothes, making me shudder. “Seraphina Blackwood, weren’t you just dying to join your parents? I’m giving you the chance! You should be thanking me!” Stanley stood with his arms crossed, watching coldly as I began to sink. “And that old geezer of a grandfather of yours… when he gets here, I’ll send your whole family down for a reunion!” I struggled weakly, but it was no use. My mind screamed one last, silent apology. Grandfather… I’m sorry… Just as the water closed over my nose, I heard the sound of familiar footsteps approaching. A heavy, sandalwood cane swung through the air. A voice like thunder roared, “I’d like to see who plans on sending my family to their graves!”

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At my own lavish, once-in-a-lifetime wedding, my sister drugged herself with an aphrodisiac and begged me to “lend” her my new husband, a decorated military major general. I called her childhood friend to help. But when my sister, Julia, woke up and realized it wasn’t Captain Hayes beside her, she threw herself from a balcony in a fit of shame and fury. James Hayes didn’t blame me. He treated me the same as he always had. Racked with guilt, I sang his praises to my father, the Commander in Chief of the armed forces. But the day he was promoted to General, the very first thing he did was have his men force-feed me the same drug and dump me in an enemy encampment. “If it weren’t for you, Julia would never have suffered like that,” he hissed, his face a mask of hatred. “You’re going to pay for it a thousand times over.” I was tortured to death, my body and the baby inside me cremated as a sacrifice on my sister’s altar. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day, my sister weeping at my feet, begging me to give her James. 1. “Please, Ava, I’m begging you. If word of this gets out, how could the Thorne family ever show its face in public again? And it happened at your wedding, of all places. We’re family, just… just lend me your husband this one time…?” My sister’s face was flushed a deeper red than a boiled lobster. She clung to my leg, her pleas a desperate, shameless whimper. I stared down at her, my disgust a cold, hard knot in my stomach as I wrenched my leg free. In my last life, her tears had thrown me into a panic. I’d been desperate to protect her reputation, to spare her the embarrassment of facing James again. So I had called her childhood friend, the man she’d secretly loved for years, to help. But when Julia woke up the next morning, she flew into a rage, blaming me for everything before making a grand, public spectacle of leaping from a balcony. James had said nothing. I thought he was unaffected. But on the day of his promotion to General—a promotion I had helped him secure—he gave the order. His men forced an aphrodisiac down my throat and threw me to our enemies. As I was defiled, my flesh carved from my bones, I saw him watching, his face twisted with a sick, triumphant hatred. “After what you did to Julia,” he spat, “no amount of suffering is enough for you.” The sound of hurried footsteps pulled me back to the present. James, still in his groom’s tuxedo, appeared in the doorway. His eyes, when they fell on Julia, were filled with an unmistakable ache. The moment Julia saw him, she scrambled across the floor, sobbing, and clutched his leg. “Help me…” she whimpered, her face burning with a mixture of shame and desperate need. A dark blush crept up James’s neck. He shot a glance at me, his jaw tight. “…Ava and I just finished our wedding ceremony. This isn’t right.” He said the words, but his tone was a lie. He was practically vibrating with the desire to pounce on her. He tugged at the collar of his uniform as if it were a noose, and the look he gave me was filled with resentment and disgust. A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. They were so obvious. How had I been so blind? This time, I would give them exactly what they wanted. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice flat. “We’re both the Commander’s daughters. Marrying one is the same as marrying the other. You can always have another wedding.” James’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. He clearly hadn’t expected the woman who had been so ecstatic to marry him just hours before to say something like this. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn’t have time to think. Hearing my permission, Julia grew bolder, wrapping herself around his neck like an octopus and pulling him down for a kiss. James shot me one last, fleeting glance before his face turned beet red. He swept Julia into his arms and carried her into the adjoining room, shutting the door behind them. I stared at the closed door, my expression blank. My reflection in the nearby mirror showed a woman in a magnificent white gown. A laugh bubbled up from my chest. Hilarious. Utterly, ridiculously hilarious. I turned to my assistant, who was frozen in place, speechless with shock. “Help me out of this dress,” I said. I pulled out my phone and sent a single, public message announcing that the wedding was off. Then, after months of nonstop, frantic wedding preparations, I let the exhaustion claim me. I collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I had no idea that when I woke up, the world would have turned upside-down. 2. My assistant shook me awake, her face pale with panic. My phone was buzzing nonstop. Seventy-seven missed calls from my father, each more frantic than the last, culminating in a single, terse text: “GET TO THE MANSION. NOW.” “Ma’am… the Commander said I need to bring you to the family estate immediately. Your sister and… your ex-fiancé… I think they went to see him,” she stammered. My mind raced. What have those two done now? I rushed to the Thorne family mansion and was stunned by the scene. The grand hall was packed. I’d never seen so many relatives in one place, not even for a funeral. They were all sitting in stiff, perfect rows, and as I walked in, every single head turned toward me, their faces grim and accusatory. A teacup shattered at my feet. My father’s roar of rage broke the silence like a clap of thunder. “You disgraceful child, get over here! Look at what you’ve done to your sister!” Julia immediately burst into crocodile tears. A great-aunt I barely knew looked me up and down with a sneer. “Well, well, Ava. Look how you’ve upset your father. Tsk, tsk. This was your wedding, planned entirely by you. How could you let Julia drink something so… indecent?” Julia shot the aunt a look, then let out a theatrical wail, as if the words were too much to bear. “I can’t live like this!” she shrieked, making a show of running for the door. A flurry of relatives jumped up to stop her, cooing and pleading. I watched her performance with cold detachment. She was always good at playing the victim. In my last life, she’d used the same tactic, her dramatic suicide attempt nothing more than a show. She’d had a parachute hidden and had spent the next few years living it up in Europe, only to return after my death to claim my inheritance. I looked at her, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “If you really want to die, the window is faster.” A vicious slap cracked across my face, sending me sprawling to the floor. The pain was a white-hot flash. I felt a warm trickle from my nose and brought a hand to my face. It came away covered in blood. My father’s face was contorted with fury. “You think you’ve done nothing wrong? How dare you provoke your sister! Will you be happy when you’ve driven her to her death?” “Now,” he bellowed, his spittle hitting my cheek, “get on your knees and apologize! If you don’t, you are no longer a Thorne!” Behind him, nestled in the arms of our relatives, Julia looked at me, a flicker of triumph in her tear-filled eyes. This was a drama of her own making. Why was I the one being punished? Facing their universal condemnation, I clenched my jaw, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Dad,” I asked, my voice shaking, “would Mom be proud of you right now?” 3. My mother was his lawfully wedded wife. I was supposed to be his only, cherished daughter. But when I was ten, there was an assassination attempt. At the last second, my mother threw herself in front of him, taking the bullets meant for him. She died. My only mother was gone. I remember my father holding me, his usually stoic face streaked with tears, promising he would take care of me for the rest of his life. The very next year, he brought home an illegitimate daughter—Julia. A year older than me. And just like that, I was forced to call her “sister.” The knot of injustice in my stomach was just the beginning. I had no idea how much worse things were going to get. … My eyes filled with tears as I looked at my father, my voice choked with unshed sobs. For a moment, his expression softened. He frowned, a flicker of memory in his eyes. But Julia, sensing the shift, broke free from the huddle of relatives. “Father, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault,” she cried, her eyes swimming with tears. “It would be better if I had never been born! My sister hates me so much… I might as well just die!” She lunged for the decorative sword mounted in the entryway and held it to her own throat. “Good heavens, child!” The relatives, seeing the alarm on my father’s face, scrambled to disarm her. In the ensuing chaos, my father rushed to Julia’s side. As he passed me, he aimed a vicious kick at my ribs, sending me crashing back to the floor. It was the signal for the pack to descend. “Arrogant little brat, causing all this trouble!” “I never liked you, Ava… and now this scandal at your wedding! It’s a disgrace!” “Look at her, with that sly face… always bullying poor, sweet Julia!” Fists and feet rained down on me. My dress was torn, my skin covered in bruises. They scrawled insults on my arms in lipstick. A sharp pain shot through my throat, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. “You hypocrites…” I rasped, my vision blurring. “Don’t you have daughters of your own? Aren’t you afraid of karma?” I pulled out the jade seal my grandmother had secretly given me. “I dare you to touch me again!” I screamed. It only made them angrier. A distant male cousin brought his heel down on my ribs with a sickening crack. “Who are you cursing, you unloved little bitch?” he sneered. “You think that little trinket scares anyone?” Pain exploded through my body. As my consciousness started to fade, I saw Julia, in the middle of the chaos, “accidentally” stomp on the jade bracelet on my wrist. It was my mother’s. A multi-million dollar piece she’d given me, taken from her own wrist in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. They say jade has a spirit, that it protects its wearer. I had always thought of it as my mother’s guardian angel, sent to watch over me. And now it was shattered. How dare she? How far was she willing to go? A surge of adrenaline shot through me. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed Julia by the collar, and slapped her with all my might. The next second, a brutal kick to my stomach sent me flying. It was James. “What do you think you’re doing to Julia?” he roared. 4. I stared up at him, a hysterical laugh bubbling in my throat. “Have you forgotten? You were supposed to be my husband.” My family’s cruelty was one thing. But this, from the man I had once loved more than anything… this was a wound that cut deeper than any physical blow. He looked away, his hand tightening around Julia’s. My body ached, but my heart was frozen solid. I let out another cold laugh and, with trembling fingers, sent a text to a contact I hadn’t spoken to in years. Another piece of porcelain shattered near my head. “I told you to kneel!” my father screamed. “And you’re playing on your phone?” “I’m telling you, if you don’t kneel right now, you can forget you ever had a father!” A piece of my mother’s broken bracelet was still on my wrist. I ripped it off and threw it at him. “Fine by me,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “And I don’t have you for a sister!” my ten-year-old brother shrieked, running to hide behind Julia. My head throbbed. This was the child I had practically raised, and he was now throwing things at me, his face twisted in a mask of hatred. “Leo… you too?” I whispered, a bitter smile on my lips as I closed my eyes. It was as if my surrender was a signal. The beating started again. Soon, the pain faded into a dull throb. I lay there, limp and broken, like a corpse. Suddenly, my father’s phone rang. A relative who was standing nearby glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. “It’s… it’s him! He’s calling!” “What do we do? He never calls unless it’s something serious!”

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1 I am the heir to the Blackwood crime family. To protect me, my mother adopted and trained ten orphan girls from childhood to be my personal bodyguards. When I came of age, my mother told me to choose one of them as my wife. Without hesitation, I chose Sera, the leader of the ten, the woman I had secretly loved for years. After we were married, I was kidnapped by a rival family. They strung me up in a flooding cell, iron chains biting through my collarbones. With my last ounce of strength, I managed to call Sera for help. All I heard was her cold, mocking laugh. “Stop playing games, Damian. Your tracker clearly shows you’re still at the villa!” “You’d sink to such a pathetic trick just to keep me from spending time with Leo?” Despair washed over me as I listened to her heartless voice. The water rose, covering my mouth, my nose. Then, everything went black. I woke with a gasp. I was back on the day my mother told me to choose a wife. … Staring at the ten photographs spread before me, I knew. I had been reborn. This time, my finger didn’t hesitate. It landed on the very last photo, the one that was always overlooked. Phoebe. My mother raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’ve always favored Sera. Why choose the tenth?” I just shook my head, saying nothing. In my mind, I could still see Phoebe’s frantic expression as she rushed to my side in my past life, could still hear her final, desperate scream. Thankfully, my mother didn’t press the issue. She simply nodded in agreement. Leaving her study, I walked out into the villa’s courtyard. Suddenly, Leo appeared and dropped to his knees before me. “Sir, I’m begging you, please, let me have Sera,” he pleaded. “You have everything in the world. All I have is her. Please, I’m begging you, let her go.” I stared at him, stunned. This was different from my past life. Could it be that Leo had been reborn, too? Just then, Sera rushed out. The sight of Leo kneeling made her eyes blaze with fury. She hauled him to his feet and glared at me, her voice dripping with venom. “Damian! How long are you going to keep tormenting him?” “Just because he’s the housekeeper’s son, you think you can treat him like this?” A sharp, familiar pain lanced through my chest. It was always like this, in both lifetimes. Sera never, ever believed me. She shot daggers at me. “I’m telling you, even if you choose me as your wife, I will never submit. You won’t have me!” An icy chill seeped into my bones, as if I’d been plunged into a frozen lake. The memories of my death swirled in my head. I had let them be together in my past life precisely because I knew she would never choose me. And still, the dull ache in my heart persisted. Before I could speak, a van screeched to a halt outside the courtyard gates. Men with guns jumped out and opened fire. Sera’s training kicked in instantly. She moved like lightning, sprinting toward me. But then, Leo let out a pained groan and collapsed, a crimson stain spreading across his pant leg. A flicker of conflict crossed Sera’s face, but it was gone in an instant. Without a second thought, she changed direction, throwing herself over Leo to shield him with her own body. I watched them, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. As one of the gunmen leveled his weapon at me, a figure blurred past, tackling me to the ground. The sound of gunshots echoed around us. When I opened my eyes, I saw who was shielding me. It was Phoebe. Seeing their chance was lost, the assassins retreated. Phoebe got to her feet, an aura of cold fury surrounding her. She glared at Sera. “Did you forget your mission?” “What would have happened if the Young Master had been hurt?” Sera looked away for a second, a hint of guilt in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by defiance. “Leo was shot! Who else was going to help him?” “Besides, Damian’s fine, isn’t he? What’s the big deal?” Phoebe scoffed. “So you can just abandon your duty to the Young Master? It seems your obsession with that man has made you forget why Mother took us in in the first place!” Sera flinched, clearly aware she had crossed a line. Just then, Leo moaned from her arms. “Sera… it hurts…” Her resolve hardened. “He’s not hurt, so it doesn’t matter. I need to get Leo to a doctor. We can talk about this later.” She lifted Leo into her arms and stormed off. Phoebe’s expression was glacial. She turned to me, her eyes burning with frustration and anger. “This is the woman you choose? The one who abandons you at the first sign of trouble?” I shook my head. She didn’t know yet. “I didn’t choose her.” Phoebe looked at me, disbelief written all over her face. “Who else would you choose?” For once, she lost her temper with me. “Fine. Choose whoever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when you regret it.” I watched her storm away, a small smile playing on my lips. I wondered what her face would look like when she found out the person I chose was her. A few days later, a haggard-looking Sera appeared in my room. Before I could speak, she fell to her knees. “Please, give me the life-saving serum. Leo… he’s not doing well.” I stared at her, incredulous. She knew what that serum meant to me. My father was from a long line of brilliant biochemists. When he was diagnosed with a terminal illness, fearing I’d be targeted by our enemies, he used his final days, enduring immense pain, to create a single dose of a miracle antidote. It was my last line of defense, a final gift to keep me alive. Sera bit her lip, her voice trembling. “I’ll marry you. Just give the serum to Leo.” “This is all your fault anyway! If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened to him!” A wave of weariness washed over me. She was a stranger to me now, so quick to cast all the blame on my shoulders. She remained on her knees. “If you give me the serum, I’ll obey Mother’s command and marry you. I’ll send Leo somewhere safe and never see him again.” I let out a hollow laugh. “There’s no need. I never chose you.” Sera froze, her eyes flickering with disbelief. “Damian, stop lying. I’ve already accepted my fate. Just give the serum to Leo!” I turned, opened the safe, and took out the vial I had treasured for so long. I tossed it to her. “Get out. And from this day forward, we have nothing to do with each other.” Not in this life, not in the last. Sera looked at me, a flash of surprise in her eyes, but she said nothing more. She clutched the serum and rushed out, desperate to save her precious Leo. I leaned against the wall, my heart a block of ice. I couldn’t believe how blind I had been in my past life, dying without ever seeing her true colors. For the next few days, Sera stayed by Leo’s side, nursing him back to health. Then, one evening at dinner, my mother made an announcement. “In a few days, we will celebrate Damian’s eighteenth birthday. At the party, I will officially announce his future wife.” The ten girls at the table reacted in their own ways. Phoebe just kept refilling her wine glass, drinking silently. Sera looked miserable, her gaze darting between me and the direction of Leo’s room. The other eight, however, smiled and congratulated Sera. “Congratulations, leader. You’ll officially be part of the family.” “Take good care of Damian for us.” My mother listened to their chatter with a serene smile, saying nothing. Her silence was taken as confirmation. Everyone assumed Sera was to be my bride. That night, Leo mysteriously vanished. Sera burst into my room in a frenzy, her eyes wild as she grabbed me by the throat. “Where is he? What have you done with Leo?” “I already agreed to marry you! Why can’t you just leave him alone?” “He’s afraid of the dark! What will he do all by himself without me?” I was shocked, but quickly recovered. “Are you insane? What does Leo’s disappearance have to do with me?” Her face was ashen, her eyes bloodshot. “Who else could it be? You’re jealous that he and I are close! You’re afraid I’ll back out, so you had him kidnapped, didn’t you?” “I’m begging you, bring him back. His wound hasn’t even fully healed. After we’re married, I’ll send him away, I promise!” I shoved her away. “Sera, I didn’t choose you! I don’t care who you’re with! Leo’s disappearance has nothing to do with me, whether you believe it or not! If you cause another scene in my room, I’m telling Mother!” That threat stopped her. She turned and fled, desperate to find Leo. The next morning, she returned with him in tow. He looked weak and disheveled, collapsing into her arms as if he’d been through hell. Sera marched right up to me, her face a thunderous mask. “Damian, if you have a problem, take it out on me! Why do you always have to involve Leo?” “If you keep this up, I will never marry you!” With that, she turned and left with Leo. I watched her go, a cold smile on my face. To think I died in my past life for someone so utterly blind. That evening, Leo came to my room. He glared at me, his face twisted with resentment. “You were reborn too, weren’t you?” In the dim light, his features were distorted by jealousy, his eyes burning with venom. His voice rose to a shrill peak. “Why do all the good things happen to you?” His chest heaved. “You’re the golden boy, the Blackwood heir! You were born with everything!” “And me? I’m just the housekeeper’s son, living on scraps, always watching my back. The only thing I’ve ever had is Sera’s love!” His voice broke. “Why do you have to take that from me too? You already have so much, Damian. Why are you so greedy?” “If it weren’t for you, Sera would never have changed her mind! Just now, she told me she’s sending me abroad!” He grabbed my arms, a strange fire in his eyes. “I won’t give up!” Then, he lunged, dragging me with him as he threw himself over the second-floor balcony railing. We crashed to the ground. Pain exploded through me, feeling like my organs had been rearranged. Leo let out an agonized scream. Within moments, the other girls rushed out. When Sera saw the scene, she flew into a rage and slapped me across the face. The next second, she was being restrained, still screaming at me with bloodshot eyes. “Damian, what is wrong with you? What did Leo ever do to deserve this? When will you stop tormenting him?” I held my cheek, saying nothing. The others covered her mouth. “Leader, be quiet! If Mother sees you like this, you’re done for!” “Go, hide somewhere until after the coming-of-age party! You need to cool down!” They bundled Sera and Leo into a car and drove them away. On the day of my party, my mother threw a lavish celebration. The grand ballroom was filled with her associates, all there to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. I scanned the room but didn’t see Phoebe. She had to be here today. I pulled out my phone and called her. She answered quickly, her distinct, cool voice on the line. “Where are you?” She gave a small laugh. “What? You want me to stand there and watch Mother announce you’re marrying Sera?” There was a pause, then her voice grew hoarse. “Damian, that’s just cruel.” The emotion in her words was too tangled for me to decipher. I gripped the phone tighter, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Yes. I want you here.” “Are you coming or not?” The line went silent for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “Fine. I’ll be there.” Just then, a stir at the entrance drew everyone’s attention. Sera walked in, clinging intimately to Leo. The guests began to whisper, their eyes darting between the three of us, filled with speculation and amusement. I could feel several pairs of pitying eyes on me, as if I were the poor fool about to be publicly jilted. The second-in-command, Maya, was the first to react. She hurried over, her brow furrowed. “Leader, what are you doing?” she whispered, her voice a sharp warning. “This is Damian’s party. Mother is about to announce your engagement. You need to put some distance between you and Leo!” Sera just smirked. Instead of letting go of Leo, she pulled him even closer, a clear declaration to the entire room. “Engagement?” she scoffed, just loud enough for the eavesdropping guests to hear. “I came today to tell Mother one thing: I am not in love with Damian Blackwood!” Her gaze, sharp as a dagger, shot toward me, filled with disgust and finality. “And I will never marry him!” The room erupted in a stunned silence. My mother’s smile froze on her face, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she looked at Sera. Sera added, her voice ringing with conviction, “After Mother makes her announcement, I am cutting all ties with the Blackwood family!” Her sisters gasped, rushing to her side, pleading with her not to be rash. But she was resolute. “Don’t try to stop me. I will not betray my heart and marry a man I don’t love. I would rather die!” Leo stood beside her, a triumphant glint in his eye as he glanced at me. His look said it all: See? I won. In the end, she chose me. I laughed coldly. Sera. You never fail to disappoint. You truly would do anything for him. The ceremony was about to begin when Phoebe finally arrived. She reeked of alcohol, but her eyes were startlingly clear. The lights dimmed. My mother took the stage. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate my son’s eighteenth birthday. I also have an important announcement to make regarding my son’s future.” “I hereby declare that when I step down, the Blackwood family will be jointly managed by my son, Damian, and my tenth daughter, Phoebe. She will also be my son Damian’s wife!” The entire hall fell silent. Everyone was stunned. No one had expected this. After a long, breathless moment, a single, sharp voice cut through the silence. “What?” It was Sera.

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I walked into the supermarket, my phone live-streaming, and shot the camera a defiant grin. “Alright, folks, today I’m going on a zero-dollar shopping spree.” The live chat exploded. “Are you insane? Live-streaming yourself stealing? You trying to get arrested?” I ignored the comments, piling things into my shopping cart with a manic energy. Once it was full, I just pushed the cart straight out the door and ran. It didn’t take long for the police to track me down using my stream’s location data. In my past life, my twin sister murdered her billionaire ex-boyfriend and then vanished with her new lover. I was home alone, with no alibi, no one to prove the killer wasn’t me. They sentenced me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the murder. If she could forge evidence to place me at the scene, then I would use the entire internet and the police department’s own records to prove my alibi. At the exact time of the murder, I would be sitting in a police precinct holding cell for shoplifting. This time, I was going to make damn sure she was the one with nowhere left to run. 1 I stood at the entrance of Brighton’s Market, my fingers trembling slightly as I tapped my phone to go live. My own pale, nervous face stared back at me from the screen. Taking a deep breath, I forced a wild, exaggerated smile. “Hey everyone! Today, we’re doing a five-finger discount haul!” The live chat instantly blew up. 【Has this streamer lost her mind? Is this how people try to go viral now?】 【Shoplifting at a supermarket? Enjoy your jail cell!】 【Already reported. You’re welcome.】 I ignored the torrent of comments scrolling past and pushed a cart straight toward the snack aisle. The red lights of the security cameras blinked down at me, feeling just like the cold, accusatory lenses in the courtroom of my past life. My throat tightened, but my hands were steady as I began grabbing things off the shelves with frantic purpose. My cart quickly filled with high-priced items designed to look cheap: bulky bags of chips, boxes of cookies, and cases of water. Things that didn’t cost a fortune but took up a massive amount of space. The comments kept flying. 【She’s just grabbing cheap junk. Nothing valuable.】 【Yeah, this is totally for clout. Even a full cart of that stuff won’t be more than a hundred bucks.】 【But is she actually going to walk out without paying? Even if it’s under a hundred, she’ll still get arrested.】 【Lame. If you’re gonna steal, steal something big. What’s the point of this?】 【It’s probably just an act. She’ll go pay for it in a minute. People will do anything to get famous these days.】 The debate sent my viewer count soaring. A crowd was gathering online to watch me furiously load up my cart. Since I had my location services on, people quickly identified the exact store, and the supermarket’s security guards started watching me, though they didn’t intervene yet. Feeling the eyes of the world on me, I let out a loud laugh and shouted at my phone. “Okay, folks, watch closely! I’m heading to the checkout now!” With that, I shoved the heaping cart forward and sprinted for the exit. The security alarm shrieked to life the second I passed the threshold. I didn’t care. I just kept running, feeling the frantic footsteps of someone chasing me from behind. The live chat went insane again. 【HOLY CRAP, SHE’S FOR REAL.】 【Is this staged? Did she really just walk out without paying?】 【LOL, look at the security guard behind her! He ran so fast his shoe fell off! This can’t be an act.】 【COPS ARE HERE!! Look!!】 I glanced up and saw them. Two police officers, hands on their holsters, standing directly in my path. They must have gotten the call the moment I started my “shopping spree.” Before they could even shout, I let go of the cart, sending it rolling away, and raised my hands high above my head. “Don’t shoot! I surrender! Take me in.” The younger officer frowned, confused by my bizarrely cooperative attitude, while the older one had already pulled out his handcuffs. The cold kiss of metal on my wrist sent a shiver through me—the exact same sensation as my arrest in my past life. But this time, it was my choice. “Take her away,” the officer said curtly. As I was escorted to the patrol car, I made a point to look back at the supermarket’s entrance camera. The angle would have perfectly captured the exact time I was taken into custody: 3:27 PM. Plenty early. As the car pulled away, I saw several bystanders filming with their phones. Good. Their videos would become another link in the chain of my evidence. I leaned back against the seat, closed my eyes, and let the tide of memory pull me under. 2 The last image from my past life was the blinding white light of the execution chamber. And now, my story had to begin in that nightmare. I was a crime novelist, writing under the pen name Jane Night. I was moderately well-known in the community but had never had a breakout hit. In my previous life, today was the day I was arrested. I was rushing to meet a publisher’s deadline, writing the most crucial chapter of my new book, The Perfect Double. The protagonist had just discovered his identical twin brother had stolen his identity to commit a murder. I had just typed the line, “He stared at the security footage, at the face that was a mirror image of his own, and suddenly realized the only person in the world who could perfectly replicate him was his own flesh and blood,” when my keyboard jammed. Looking back, it was a cruel joke played by fate itself. When the police smashed through my door, I was on the floor with a screwdriver, trying to fix the keyboard. The explosive crash of the door made me slip, and the screwdriver sliced open my index finger. Blood dripped into the crevices of the keyboard, which later became evidence in court of my “violent tendencies.” “Anna Jane, you’re under arrest for the murder of Marcus Thorne and the theft of a large sum of cash.” I collapsed on the floor as they pulled a blood-stained shirt from the back of my closet. It had my fingerprints on it, and traces of Marcus Thorne’s. “That’s impossible…” My voice trembled. “I haven’t left my apartment in three days. That’s not mine…” But the security footage shattered every one of my denials. On the screen, “I” was wearing the black baseball cap I always wore and carrying my one-of-a-kind backpack, a gift from fans at a book signing, covered in their signatures. “I” showed up on camera at Marcus Thorne’s penthouse apartment. The footage clearly showed me plunging a knife into his chest, then taking a stack of documents from a safe in the bedroom. The most ironic part was the look on Marcus’s face before he died—not fear, but pure shock. He must have recognized that face, too. “So you’re telling us you have an identical twin sister, and she was Marcus Thorne’s mistress?” In the interrogation room, the lead detective tapped his pen against the case file. “Yes. Check his phone. I guarantee you’ll find tons of messages and pictures of my sister.” The detectives interviewing me huddled together and left the room. When they returned, they showed me a photo. It was a picture my parents had provided, showing my sister, Nina, smiling at an airport gate. The electronic departures board behind her clearly displayed the date and time: 12:15 PM on the day of the murder. The murder took place at 3:50 PM. At that time, her plane hadn’t even landed. My editor, Lucy, once told me that the alibis in my novels were too perfect, that reality was never that convenient. Now I knew she was right. It wasn’t a coincidence. My gut screamed that the photo was a fake. But no one believed me. My parents’ testimony in court was the final, fatal blow. My mother cried until she nearly fainted, but she insisted they had personally driven Nina to the airport that morning. My father produced ticket stubs and parking receipts as proof. “Anna was never as smart as her sister,” he said, his voice choked with false grief. “She was always secretly jealous. When they were little, she used to cut up Nina’s dolls with scissors. But I never, ever thought she would be jealous of her sister’s boyfriend, too. It’s our fault. We failed as parents.” They sobbed hysterically on the stand, and everyone in the courtroom was convinced I had been a monster since childhood. And me? A reclusive writer who spent all her time locked in her apartment. I barely even appeared on my own building’s security cameras. No one could prove I was at home when the murder happened. “The defendant is a long-term recluse with severe social anxiety…” The prosecutor’s words flayed my ears. “Her novels repeatedly depict meticulously planned perfect crimes, proving she has the capacity for premeditation…” It wasn’t until the death sentence was handed down that I finally understood how all the pieces fit together. But it was too late. I had become my sister’s perfect scapegoat. Three hours before my lethal injection, Nina came to visit. Through the bulletproof glass, her lips, painted a slash of crimson, moved. “By the way,” she mouthed, “I helped you finish your new book. The protagonist confesses in the end. A beautiful story of repentance, don’t you think?” She didn’t even stay to claim my body. She was finally free to run off with the pretty college boy she’d been keeping on the side. 3 I never expected to open my eyes again. But here I was, reborn two hours before the murder. I was sitting at my computer, the document’s last save time showing 1:27 PM. Nina’s murder of Marcus was set to happen at 3:50 PM. I spent the first twenty minutes doing three things: First, I looked up the local laws and confirmed that theft of property under $200 was a misdemeanor, punishable by a maximum of fifteen days in jail. Second, I researched the police response times for precincts in the area. The one covering Brighton’s Market was the fastest. Third, I checked Nina’s social media. She had posted an airport selfie that morning. As I grabbed my jacket and rushed out the door, I made sure to take the black baseball cap and the limited-edition backpack—the very items Nina had used to frame me in my past life. This time, they would appear with me on the supermarket’s security cameras, becoming a crucial part of my alibi. “Name?” In the interrogation room, the officer’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Anna Jane. My pen name is Jane Night.” I mentioned my profession intentionally, planting a seed for the media storm I knew was coming. The officer raised an eyebrow. “A writer? What do you write?” “Crime fiction,” I said with a bitter smile. “Funny how life turns out to be stranger than any story I could ever make up.” The clock on the wall read 3:45 PM. Nina should be inside Marcus’s building by now. According to the police timeline from my past life, she would be swiping my key card—which she had stolen—to get into the lobby. She would flash my signature little lip-biting smile for the camera, a micro-expression she had spent three months perfecting. “You’re saying you caused this disturbance at the market on purpose?” The officer’s voice sounded distant. “Yes.” I dug my nails into my palms, my eyes darting uncontrollably toward the clock. The officer slid a photo across the table. “We’ve totaled up the value of the items you stole. It’s less than two hundred dollars…” 3:48 PM. My temples throbbed. On the security footage, Nina would be taking off the baseball cap now, shaking out her long hair. Hair that was identical to mine, right down to the carefully replicated split ends. When Marcus opened the door, he would be stunned. The last time he’d seen me was at a book signing. “According to Section 49 of the Public Order Act…” The sound of the officer flipping through his file was eerily similar to the judge turning the pages of my death sentence. 3:49 PM. Nina would have locked the door from the inside by now. She would be holding the knife in her left hand. She wasn’t left-handed, but she had practiced writing and eating with her left hand for months just to imitate me perfectly. The coroner’s report had noted the angle of the wounds indicated a left-handed killer. “Miss Jane? Are you listening?” I looked up suddenly. “Can I have a glass of water?” The officer frowned but motioned for his colleague to get one. 3:50 PM. On the dot. My throat went dry. I could almost hear the second hand ticking. Right now. Nina’s knife would be plunging into the space between Marcus’s third and fourth ribs—the exact same spot I described in my novel when the protagonist committed his murder. A cool, disposable cup was pressed into my hand. I stared at my reflection in the water’s surface and, for a dizzying moment, saw Nina stuffing blood-soaked cash into my backpack. “You’re trembling,” the officer observed. I looked down and saw that the surface of the water was rippling. 3:52 PM. Nina would be cleaning the scene now. She’d use my favorite brand of sanitizing wipes on the doorknob but intentionally leave a partial print on the coffee table—my fingerprint, which she had collected earlier on a piece of tape. “I have low blood sugar,” I managed, forcing a smile. I watched the officer write “emotionally unstable” in his report. Every word he wrote would become my shield. I didn’t hear a single thing the police said after that. I knew Nina had succeeded. By now, she would be on her way to my apartment to plant the t-shirt stained with Marcus’s blood in my closet. In my past life, I was taking a nap at this time. She was so quiet I never even knew she’d been there. But she wouldn’t succeed this time. She had no idea about the little surprise I’d left for her in my apartment. Before I left, I had deliberately left my computer on, the screen displaying the latest chapter of The Perfect Double: “The moment the double believes they have won is the exact moment the protagonist’s counterattack begins.” I remained silent, no matter what the police asked. My goal had been achieved. Anything more felt like a waste of effort. “Sign here.” The officer pushed the report and a pen toward me. “Given the circumstances, you’ll be detained for a few days. Do you need to call a lawyer? Or family?” An image of my parents testifying against me flashed in my mind. I shook my head quickly, grabbed the pen, and signed my name.

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I came back to the past, and so did Aiden Mitchell. In my last life, he was the one who personally brought me home from the orphanage. I was his foster sister, then his wife. We grew old together, our love a deep and steady flame. This time, as the Mitchells smiled and waved for me to come home with them, just like before, a teenage Aiden suddenly stepped forward, blocking their view of me. “Dad, Mom, don’t pick her. I want the girl next to her to be my sister.” He grabbed the hand of the girl standing beside me—the Hawthorne’s foster daughter, the one who, in our past life, had died of illness before she even turned ten. When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were as cold and sharp as winter ice. “You stole Chloe’s place. You’re the reason she died so young. In this life, it’s your turn to suffer what she went through.” In that instant, I understood everything. This time, he wanted to be the hero. He wanted to save his fragile, little “princess.” “Would you be willing to come with me?” Mrs. Hawthorne stood before me, her voice a soft murmur. I looked past her, at the man I had spent decades with, now holding another girl’s hand, walking away without a single glance back. I gave a small nod. Fine by me. This time around, I wanted to try a different path anyway. 1 As I stepped out of the orphanage gates, the Mitchell family was still there, waiting. The moment Aiden saw me, his face tightened. He fumbled to push the girl into the back seat of their car, and before the door was even fully shut, he was yelling at me. “Elara Mitchell, you can get on your knees and cry all you want, but I will never accept you as my sister! There’s no place for you in the Mitchell family!” “A thief like you belongs in that house of horrors with the Hawthornes!” He punctuated his words with a harsh shove that sent me stumbling. The car door slammed shut with a deafening bang. I lost my footing, swaying for a moment before catching my balance. But by then, their cars had already roared off into the distance. The exhaust fumes churned up a cloud of grit and dust that swirled into my face, stinging my eyes until I couldn’t keep them open. Just then, a sleek, jet-black Maybach glided to a silent stop in front of me. The tinted window lowered, revealing Mrs. Hawthorne’s face, a mask of sculpted ice. “You want to go to the Mitchells?” I shook my head, my voice barely a whisper. “The Hawthornes are just fine.” She paused, her gaze flicking over me. “What’s your name?” “Elara,” I said softly. “Not anymore,” she stated, her words clipped and final. “You are Elara Hawthorne.” She didn’t need to say more. I understood. I quickly opened the car door, slid inside, and said with perfect composure, “Yes, Mother.” A flicker of something—surprise, perhaps—crossed Mrs. Hawthorne’s brow, but she said nothing, simply leaning back against the leather seat and closing her eyes. I took the cue and remained silent. The car purred through a lavish, gated community before stopping at the Hawthorne estate. I followed her inside, watching as she set down her purse. She glanced up the grand staircase, speaking as if to the air, or perhaps introducing someone I couldn’t see. “Charlotte, this is your new sister, Elara Hawthorne.” I froze, my gaze instinctively shooting upward. Leaning against the railing of the second-floor gallery was a boy. He was even more handsome than Aiden, his features so clean and defined they seemed almost unreal, yet imbued with a chilling remoteness. I had no idea how long he’d been standing there, watching in complete silence. My stomach dropped. So this was Charlotte Hawthorne? He was nothing like I remembered… In my past life, he’d been sent abroad shortly after I was taken in by the Mitchells. I didn’t see him again for many years. By then, he was the head of the Hawthorne empire, his face a roadmap of scars, his presence terrifying. He was ruthless in business and frightening in appearance; behind his back, the elite circles called him “The Hawthorne Reaper.” I forced a smile and called out softly, “Hello, brother.” But it was as if he hadn’t heard me. He remained motionless, his eyes as cold and empty as still water. “Don’t mind him,” Mrs. Hawthorne said flatly. “He’s always been like that. Prefers his own company.” With that, she summoned a housekeeper and instructed her to show me to my room, then left without another word. I bowed my head, about to follow the housekeeper. But some strange impulse made me look back one last time. My eyes crashed into the boy’s. His gaze was black and heavy, like a bottomless well, utterly devoid of emotion. A shiver shot through me. I tried to muster another smile, but he looked away first, turning and disappearing back into his room. The door closed behind him without a sound. 2 A month had passed since I’d arrived at the Hawthorne estate. After that first day, I hadn’t seen Mrs. Hawthorne at all. Charlotte, on the other hand, I’d occasionally see at the dinner table. Every time, I’d greet him with a sweet, smiling, “Good evening, brother.” And every time, he’d ignore me completely, not even bothering to lift his gaze from his plate. I wasn’t angry, or even embarrassed. Frankly, I didn’t have the time to dwell on it. My days were scheduled down to the minute, so packed that even breathing felt like a luxury. Mrs. Hawthorne may have been absent, but her orders were not. My life became a whirlwind of lessons in deportment and posture, followed by dance, equestrianism, and every other aristocratic discipline she could think of. It was supposed to be summer break, a time for rest, but this was more exhausting than school had ever been. Even Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, looked at the constellation of bruises on my knees with a soft, pitying gaze. “Miss Elara, are you sure you don’t want to ask Mrs. Hawthorne for a day off?” I looked down, pulling on my riding boots, and gently shook my head. “There’s no need.” On my first day, Mrs. Hawthorne had made her expectations crystal clear. “No child of the Hawthorne family is allowed to be lazy. Even if you aren’t my blood, you will not bring shame to this name.” “Not like that girl at the Mitchells’, playing around all day.” Mrs. Gable sighed, handing me my satchel. “It’s true. I heard them making a racket this morning. The whole family booked tickets to fly abroad for the summer.” She was trying to stick up for me, in her own way. She thought a girl my age shouldn’t be cooped up, drilled with these endless, punishing lessons. I stood and took the bag with a smile. “It’s not a hardship, Mrs. Gable. I want to learn these things.” Outsiders might see the Hawthorne household as a cold, rigid prison. But I knew it was an opportunity. The Hawthornes were old money, with a foundation and network of connections so deep that new-money families like the Mitchells couldn’t hope to touch it, even after decades of trying. Here, I could learn. I could climb higher. Even if everyone in this house treated me with cold indifference, even if Mrs. Hawthorne was relentlessly strict, and Charlotte wouldn’t give me the time of day… Lost in thought, I felt something soft and white brush against my leg. A moment later, a frantic, girlish voice called out. “Oh, Snowy! Wrong person! Come back!” “Aiden! Help me catch her!” “You silly thing.” I bent down and scooped the small kitten into my arms, straightening up just as a boy walked toward me. His lips were curved into a smile, his eyes filled with adoration. I recognized him instantly. It was Aiden Mitchell. 3 The second Aiden saw me, the smile vanished from his face, replaced by a look of pure disgust. “What are you still doing here? Can’t you take a hint?” he snapped, his voice dripping with scorn. “Don’t think for a second that ambushing me here will change my mind. Dream on.” “Elara?!” Chloe’s voice, a mixture of surprise and delight, cut through the tension. She hurried over, her fluffy skirt bouncing, her eyes shining. “Wow, I can’t believe it! It’s so great to see you again after the orphanage! What a coincidence!” She took the kitten from my arms, then her eyes fell on the black sedan parked behind me. She asked, full of curiosity, “Is that car… here to pick you up?” Her gaze swept over the vehicle, and in an instant, her expression shifted, her face paling. “Oh my god! Don’t tell me you were actually adopted by the Hawthornes next door?” I was about to answer when my eyes caught something familiar—a key-shaped pendant hanging around her neck. The sight sent a jolt through my heart. Chloe noticed my gaze and instinctively clutched the pendant, hiding it in her fist. I feigned ignorance, simply nodding. “Yes, I’m living with the Hawthornes now.” “So, does that mean your name is Elara Hawthorne now?” I glanced at Aiden. He was standing there awkwardly, a flush of embarrassment on his face, clearly realizing his mistake. “I suppose so.” “The Hawthornes are scary, aren’t they?” she leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I heard their son has… issues. That he doesn’t talk. Is it true?” She gestured secretly toward the Hawthorne estate, her face a mask of gossipy intrigue, firing off questions. My brow furrowed, and I opened my mouth to correct her, but she was already chattering on. “Hey, that outfit you’re wearing… is that for riding and archery? You’re actually learning that stuff?” she asked, tilting her head as she looked me up and down. “I have to go,” I said, trying to step away. Aiden cut in, his voice cold. “Chloe, why are you wasting your time with someone like her? Let’s go.” Chloe chirped an agreement, then stuck her tongue out at me playfully. “Don’t mind him. My brother is usually super sweet, he’s probably just in a bad mood today…” “Aiden, wait for me!” she called, lifting her skirt to chase after him. I stood there for a moment before turning to leave as well. The wind carried their conversation back to me. “Aiden, the Hawthornes are so cruel! Elara’s the same age as me, but her schedule is packed. I saw bruises all over her arms; she must be working so hard.” “Hah. What’s the point of learning all that? A girl learning all that fancy nonsense is just asking for trouble.” “Our Chloe doesn’t have to suffer like that. All you have to do is be pretty. Be our little princess.” “Mhm! Mommy, Daddy, and Aiden love me the most!” Suffering? So that’s what they called it? A humorless smile touched my lips, but I said nothing. In my last life, the Mitchells had truly doted on me, providing me with the best of everything. But anytime I wanted to learn a real skill, they shut me down. I wanted to learn riding and archery. They were horrified. “What if you fall and scar your face! How will you ever get married!” After I was followed home one night, I wanted to take a self-defense class. They immediately refused. “A daughter of the Mitchell family, learning how to fight? How disgraceful! Aren’t our bodyguards enough?” Later, when I wanted to learn about business, to understand the ledgers, they shook their heads again. “Your brother is here to handle all that. Why would you worry your pretty little head about it?” They claimed to love me, but all they did was cultivate me into a delicate flower, ready to wilt at the first strong gust of wind. But Mrs. Hawthorne was different. She had said one thing to me that I still remembered: “In the Hawthorne family, no one relies on anyone else to survive. What can be learned, must be learned. What can be fought for, must be fought for.” 4 Summer vanished in a blur. Before I knew it, the first day of school had arrived. My new mother had already enrolled me in the same international academy Charlotte attended—the same one Aiden and I had gone to in our previous life. On the first day, I got into the car early. When Charlotte pulled the door open, I greeted him with a cheerful smile. “Morning, brother! Mom said we’ll be going to and from school together from now on.” Charlotte’s hand froze mid-air. Then, without a word, he sat down in the seat furthest from me. The next day, I did the same. And the day after that. And the one after that… This went on for nearly two months. I noticed that while Charlotte never responded to me, acting as if I were invisible, something had shifted. Sometimes, when I was running late for breakfast and rushed out into the courtyard, I’d find him waiting by the car, his backpack already slung over his shoulder. Suppressing my surprise, I’d just smile and say, “You’re a good guy, you know that, brother?” He would just give me his usual flat glance, turn, and get into the car without a word. But— This time, when he got in, he led with his right foot! A small smile tugged at my lips. Interesting. Things really were changing. One afternoon, I waited by the main school building long after the final bell, but Charlotte was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t answering his phone. As I paced anxiously, a sudden, sharp jolt of memory hit me. I remembered. In my past life, around this time, something major had happened right outside the school gates. I had been cramming for exams, desperate to catch up with the curriculum, so I only heard snippets of gossip. Whispers about someone from the Hawthorne family causing a scene. Talk of their kid getting into serious trouble. Years later, I overheard someone mention that the future head of the Hawthorne empire, Charlotte, had his face deliberately slashed during high school. Could it be… today? No! There was no time to think. I immediately texted our driver: If you don’t see me at the front gate, don’t wait. Come find me in the alley behind the school. Then I broke into a dead sprint, my feet pounding against the pavement as I raced toward the back alley. Charlotte, please be okay! 5 By the time I got there, it was already bad. Charlotte was cornered at the end of the alley, surrounded by a group of thugs, unable to move. “Well, well, look who it is. The great Hawthorne heir isn’t acting so high and mighty now, is he? Cat got your tongue? Can’t even beg for mercy?” “Saves us the trouble. A mute can’t go snitching, can he?” “Damn, this kid’s got some nerve, still glaring at us!” The leader, who looked like he was a high schooler himself, sneered and spat on the ground. He pulled out a utility knife and held it menacingly close to Charlotte’s face. My heart hammered against my ribs. My eyes darted around and spotted a discarded baseball bat lying nearby. I sucked in a sharp breath, grit my teeth, and charged forward, yelling at the top of my lungs, “The cops are on their way! I already called them!” I swung the bat wildly, my movements pure instinct. Thankfully, all those recent fitness lessons meant I had the stamina to back it up. The thugs were completely blindsided. The mention of the police sent them into a panic, scattering in confusion. “Shit! This kid’s got a lucky star!” one of them cursed. After a few more muttered insults, they turned and fled, their footsteps a chaotic scramble. Once they were gone, I rushed to Charlotte’s side. A bloody gash marred his cheek—not too deep, but his arms and legs were covered in bruises, clear evidence of the beating he’d taken. “Brother, hang in there. I’ll get you home!” I helped him to his feet, but just as we were about to leave, a powerful force slammed into my back, sending me crashing to the ground. “Hey, Chen! Told you the little brat was bluffing! Cops? What a liar!” “Lying at such a young age. Rotten to the core!” “A mute freak and a lying little witch, a perfect pair! Haha!” The one called Chen was furious. He kicked me again and again in the back. The pain was so intense I curled into a ball, but my eyes met Charlotte’s, and they were wide with terror. My lips trembled, but I managed to force a smile. “Don’t be scared, brother,” I whispered. Charlotte flinched as if he’d been struck. He stared at me, at the small figure shielding him, not backing down an inch. The fists and feet behind me grew more vicious. And then— Charlotte, who had been silent this whole time, suddenly lunged forward like a rabid animal. He sank his teeth into the nearest attacker’s hand and held on, refusing to let go even as the man screamed! The sheer ferocity of it stunned the thugs for a few seconds. But there were too many of them. They quickly overpowered him, pinning him to the grimy asphalt. Punches rained down on his head and chest. Someone even pulled out a metal pipe… Was this it? Was this fate unavoidable? As my consciousness began to fade, I heard voices and footsteps at the entrance of the alley. Was it our driver…? I fought to keep my eyes open, trying to see. My blurry vision focused on a pair of clean, white sneakers slowly coming into view…

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The day I got fired, I went home to my grandma’s and learned how to play gin rummy. Meanwhile, my entire family was tearing the city apart looking for me. Why? Because my sister, the family’s golden child and a so-called genius jewelry designer, hadn’t been able to sketch a single decent design since I’d left. In my last life, it all came crashing down at the National Jewelry Design Competition. Somehow, my sister, Sophie, always managed to debut designs that were identical to mine, just a heartbeat before I could. Everyone assumed I was the copycat. My own family stood up and testified against me. The company I worked for, citing moral turpitude and damage to their reputation, fired me on the spot and slapped me with a lawsuit for a staggering amount in damages. My family, seeing me as nothing but a liability, threw me out. Crushed by the weight of it all—the public shaming, the loss of my family—I fell into a deep depression. I was killed in a hit-and-run, struck by a car driven by one of my sister’s obsessed fans. Even as my consciousness faded, the question haunted me: How did Sophie always know? How did she always manage to create my exact designs, just one step ahead of me? Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. The day before the National Jewelry Design Competition. 1 “Sadie, you feeling confident about the competition?” The chatter in the office pulled me back from the dizzying vortex of memory. I looked around, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was real. I was back. “Are you kidding? Sadie’s snagged the ‘Designer of the Year’ award three times running,” a colleague, Maria, said, giving me a playful nudge. “She’s got this in the bag.” I managed a weak smile, unable to form words. Because only I knew what was coming. In my last life, I submitted a design I had poured my soul into for days. Onstage, in front of everyone, I was branded a fraud. They displayed two sketches on the main screen. They were identical, down to the last delicate line of filigree on the setting. But the timestamp on the other submission was a full day before mine. And the artist? My dear sister, Sophie Walker. She stood in the audience, her eyes wide and red-rimmed, staring at me with a look of shattered betrayal. She brought a microphone to her lips, her voice trembling as it echoed through the auditorium. “Sadie, how could you? If you were blocked, I would have helped you find inspiration… but to steal my work? Why?” I was frozen. That was my design. It had lived on my encrypted laptop, unseen by any other human eye. Before I could even begin to explain, the crowd erupted. “Get the plagiarist off the stage!” “The nerve of her, showing up with a stolen design!” “She doesn’t deserve to be a designer! Fraud!” I grabbed a microphone to defend myself, but my voice was drowned out by the jeers. A few scattered voices of support were quickly silenced when my own parents took the stage. They held up photos of Sophie, supposedly working through the night at her drafting table at home. They spoke of their profound regret, of how they were ashamed to have a daughter like me, and announced their intention to sever all ties. After that, it was over. No one believed me. Security escorted me out of the building. The moment I turned on my phone, it was a firestorm of hatred. Back at my apartment, I checked my laptop. No viruses, no spyware, no remote access logs. The computer and my physical sketchbooks had been with me at all times. There was no conceivable way the design could have leaked. But Sophie’s was identical. Every idea, every spark of inspiration, every line I drew—it was all mine. I could not have copied her. It was impossible. “Hey, Sadie,” Maria’s voice cut through my thoughts again. “I heard your sister is competing this year too. Any friendly family rivalry? Who do you think will take home the top prize?” Not long after I’d started at this firm, Sophie, by some mysterious coincidence, had gotten hired too. The mention of her name sent a jolt of pure terror through me. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. My sister. Sophie. When she was born, she didn’t cry. While all the other newborns in the nursery were wailing, she was silent. My mother, convinced it was a bad omen, brought in a spiritualist, a so-called “seer” from the mountains. The moment the old woman entered our house, she didn’t look at the baby. She looked at me. She said our fates were crossed, that my life force was a shadow cast over my sister’s, making her weak. She said my presence would slowly drain the vitality from Sophie. The solution, she claimed, was for me to be sent away. Otherwise, Sophie wouldn’t live to see her twenty-fifth birthday. From that day on, my parents’ only goal was to get rid of me. I must have sensed it. I tried desperately to win them over, to show my affection for my new sister. I brought my favorite stuffed bear into her nursery, a peace offering. Her room was already overflowing with brand-new dolls and toys. As I got closer, she looked up at me with a wide, innocent smile. For a second, I thought she liked me. I was wrong. She shoved over a tower of blocks and immediately burst into tears. My parents rushed in. They saw the toppled blocks, their crying infant, and me standing there. The first thing I felt was the sharp sting of my mother’s palm across my face. My ears rang, and I tasted the metallic tang of blood. In that moment, I understood. Sophie and I could never coexist. Soon after, I was sent to live with my grandmother in the countryside. She raised me, a tough but loving woman who did it all on her own. Two years ago, my parents suddenly reappeared, asking me to come back home. I was starved for their affection, so I foolishly agreed. Now, sitting at my desk, I stared at my computer, at the portfolio of my life’s work. Sophie had been a dancer her whole life. When did she ever find the time to study art, let alone jewelry design? I asked a colleague to send me Sophie’s portfolio, the one she’d submitted to the company. He emailed a file. I clicked through it, my blood running cold. Design after design… they were all mine. Identical. Some of them were private sketches, passion projects I had never shown anyone, ideas I was saving for the day I could open my own studio. And they had all been released commercially under her name. How? It was impossible. No one had ever seen those files. My hands shaking, I dragged every single design file on my computer into the trash and permanently deleted them. I had to calm down. I had died once already. There had to be a blind spot, something I was missing. I had dedicated my life to this. I started studying art in high school, earned a full scholarship to the Rhode Island School of Design, and specialized in gemology and jewelry fabrication. My skills were real. My foundation was solid. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. Whatever trick she was using, I would beat her. I would simply create something new. I shut down my computer. I couldn’t risk it again. I pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil. An idea began to form. I sketched, letting my hand move, channeling the panic and fury into the lines on the page. Hours melted away. Finally, I leaned back, looking at the finished piece. It was a ring. The band was woven from delicate threads of rose gold, culminating in a white gold violet, its petals cradling a rare, deep purple sapphire. It was elegant, mysterious, and noble. I would call it “Violet’s Kiss.” Suddenly, a gasp came from across the office. “Oh my god! You guys, Sophie Walker just posted a new design. It’s… wow. It’s stunning.” I frowned. A new design? “That’s gorgeous! The detail is insane.” “Sadie, your sister is a prodigy! You must be so proud.” Praise echoed through the room. Everyone was huddled around their phones. I pulled out mine, my thumb trembling as I opened Instagram. There it was. A new post from Sophie. The caption read: Working hard to bring more beauty into the world for all of you. Here’s a little something I’m calling ‘Violet’s Kiss.’ The image was a perfect, digitally rendered version of the exact design I had just finished sketching on paper. My vision, flawlessly executed. My breath caught in my throat. Someone walked past my desk and stopped, snatching the paper from my drafting table. “Hey, everyone, get a load of this! It’s the same design Sophie just posted! Identical!” The office crowded around my desk, murmuring. “She’s right! It’s exactly the same!” A cold dread washed over me. I stood up to grab my sketch back, but someone shoved me. “Sadie Walker. Don’t tell me you were planning to plagiarize your own sister.” The whispers turned accusatory. “Wow. She looks so prim and proper, but she’s just a common thief.” Then, a voice cut through the noise. “Wait a minute… haven’t you guys noticed? A lot of Sadie’s older designs look suspiciously similar to Sophie’s.” As people started pulling up our online portfolios to compare, I seized the moment and snatched my drawing back. “This is mine,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “Sophie is the one who has been stealing from me. All this time, it’s been her!” As if on cue, the office door opened, and Sophie walked in. She was wearing a pristine white dress, the picture of innocence. Her eyes welled up instantly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Sadie, why are you doing this?” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “I know you don’t like me, but those designs are my life’s work. They’re all I have.” She turned her tear-streaked face to the others. “Ever since she came back home, she’s resented me. Is this about Mom and Dad? Are you punishing me for them?” Her performance was flawless. Everyone in the room looked at her with pity, then back at me with disgust. Someone from behind gave me a hard shove. I stumbled forward, losing my balance. The sharp corner of a metal desk met my forehead with a sickening thud. A warm trickle of blood ran down my temple and dripped onto the floor. Sophie rushed forward, pretending to help me up. The moment her hand touched my arm, she flung herself backward onto the floor. Seriously? Is this girl for real? With all these people watching? She lay on the ground, her eyes wide with manufactured fear. “Sadie… why did you push me? I was just trying to help…” The entire office swarmed around her, asking if she was hurt, while shooting daggers at me. “What is wrong with you, Sadie? You get caught stealing, and now you’re assaulting her?” “Yeah, just leave her alone, Sophie. She’s not worth it. Let the psycho bleed on the floor.” Sophie slowly got to her feet, brushing herself off with a martyred sigh. “It’s okay, everyone. She’s still my sister, no matter what…” A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I looked at her, the master manipulator. “You know what, sis? You’re right. I was wrong. Come closer, I have something I want to tell you.” Wary but triumphant, Sophie stepped toward me. I smiled sweetly. And as soon as she was in range, I slapped her across the face, hard. The crack echoed in the stunned silence. She stumbled back and fell to the floor, more from shock than the force of the blow. “Whoops,” I said, flexing my fingers. “So clumsy of me, Sophie. Guess my hand just… slipped.” She sat there, clutching her cheek, her mask of innocence finally cracking. Through the curtain of her hair, I saw a flash of pure, unadulterated hatred in her eyes before it was replaced by her usual wide-eyed victim look. I was done playing her game. While everyone was still focused on Sophie, I stood up, walked out of the office without a backward glance, and left that part of my life behind for good. I stopped by an urgent care clinic to get the gash on my head glued shut, then went home. The apartment was empty. I walked straight to my room and began gathering every single sketchbook, every loose design, every scrap of paper with a drawing on it. If she was stealing my work, how? These were physical copies. It made no sense. Unless I was truly losing my mind and copying her in some fugue state. My phone buzzed. The company-wide group chat was exploding. We can’t have a parasite like that working here. Fire her already. Seriously, get her out of the building! Can’t believe I have to share oxygen with a thief. And she always acted so high and mighty. What a hypocrite. The messages blurred together, a familiar wave of nausea washing over me as I remembered my first life. The endless phone calls from unknown numbers, filled with screaming and threats. The insults, the ridicule. I’d had to cancel my number. Then they found my rented apartment. They camped outside, cameras ready, hoping to catch a shot of the disgraced designer. Someone even hung a banner across my door: THIEVES DESERVE TO DIE. I hadn’t left that apartment for a week. One night, starving, I snuck out. I sat on a curb, hunched over, wolfing down a cheap convenience store sandwich. A little boy walking by with his mother pointed at me. “Mommy, look! It’s the lady from the internet! The thief!” He then spat on my face. I didn’t even flinch. I just looked at him and smiled, a strange, empty smile. His mother quickly dragged him away. I had had enough. That last night, I sat on the roof of my building, feeling nothing. The city lights glittered below, a beautiful, rotten thing. The only person I would miss was my grandma, safe in the country, unaware of how far I had fallen. My thoughts snapped back to the present. I started packing a suitcase. I was going back to the country. Back to her. Screw the competition. Screw the career. I didn’t understand Sophie’s methods, but I knew one thing for sure. I sent a resignation email to HR and an official withdrawal from the competition. I can’t figure out how she reads my mind and steals my designs before I even finish them. So, I’ll just stop designing altogether. Let’s see what she submits then.

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It was midnight when a text from my coworker, Jenna, lit up my phone. “Hey, I know the spare bedroom in your apartment is empty. Any chance I could rent it?” I fought back a wave of sleep to type a one-word reply. “No.” I figured that would be the end of it. But my phone immediately started buzzing again. A stream of texts. “I can pay $9.99 a month. How does that sound?” “I mean, it’s just sitting empty. This way, you could at least make a little something to cover utilities. It’s a win-win.” I switched my phone to silent, done with her. But a moment later, the screen lit up with her name. She was calling. I ignored it. She called again. Fine. “Audrey, don’t just ignore me. I think this is a great idea. Think about it—you’re all alone in that big place, it must get lonely. If I move in, I can keep you company, help out with chores. And $9.99 isn’t nothing. You can’t even get that much for a new user bonus on most apps these days.” 1 Click. I hung up, tossed the phone onto my nightstand, and pulled the covers over my head. The world went blessedly silent. The next morning at the office, the elevator doors opened to reveal Jenna, blocking the entrance. She was beaming, a cardboard tray with two coffees in her hands. “Audrey, good morning! I brought you a latte.” She tried to press one of the cups into my hand. I sidestepped her. “Thanks, but I’m not a fan.” Her hand froze in mid-air, the smile faltering for a fraction of a second. A few of our colleagues glanced over. She recovered quickly, placing the coffee on the corner of my desk. She kept her voice just loud enough for others to hear. “Audrey, listen, I’m sorry if I called too late last night and woke you up. Don’t be mad, I’m just getting really desperate. My lease is up the day after tomorrow, and I still haven’t found a place.” She lowered her gaze, her whole body slumping into a portrait of pitiable despair. A few of her work friends immediately flocked to her side. “Jenna, what’s wrong? You don’t have a place to live?” “Oh my god, where are you going to stay?” Jenna sniffled, her eyes welling up. “I don’t know. Worst case, I guess I’ll have to crash at a 24-hour Starbucks or something.” As she spoke, she shot a quick glance at me from under her eyelashes. “Doesn’t Audrey have a spare room? Maybe she could put you up for a few days,” one of them suggested. Another one chimed in instantly. “Yeah, you’re colleagues! You should help each other out. And Audrey, you live in that huge apartment all by yourself. It’d be nice to have some company.” Jenna looked at me, her eyes shining with anticipation, though the calculation within them was impossible to miss. “Audrey, please? Just for a few days. I promise I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I find something.” I powered on my computer and logged into the system. “It’s not convenient for me.” My refusal was blunt, final, leaving no room for argument. The color drained from Jenna’s face. The air around my desk grew still. She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. “Audrey, what is your problem? You have a huge apartment with an empty room. What’s the big deal about letting me stay for a few days? You just can’t stand to see anyone else catch a break, can you?” Her voice grew shrill. I didn’t look up, my eyes fixed on the screen. “My apartment. My decision.” “You—!” She was trembling with rage. “Don’t think you’re so special just because you have money! Living in some fancy high-rise, driving that expensive car… you don’t have a shred of compassion! People like you deserve to be alone forever!” The rest of the office was watching us now, whispering amongst themselves. I finally lifted my eyes to meet hers, my expression calm. “Are you finished? If so, you should probably get to work.” She seemed completely thrown by my lack of reaction, just standing there, frozen. I ignored her and started going through my emails. During my lunch break, I went to the kitchenette to make some coffee. As I approached, I could hear Jenna’s voice. “You should have seen the look on her face. Like she’s some kind of queen. So what if she has a little money? It doesn’t make her better than anyone else.” “Totally. She seems so put-together, but I guess she’s just cold-hearted.” “Jenna, don’t let it get to you. People like that are just selfish. We’ll just stay away from her from now on.” I walked in, holding my mug. The conversation stopped cold. They all looked away, a mixture of guilt and embarrassment on their faces. All except Jenna. She stared right at me, her eyes filled with pure hatred. I acted as if I’d heard nothing, walking over to the coffee machine and pressing the button. Hot water streamed into my mug, steam clouding the air. I turned around, meeting her glare. “Talking about people behind their backs isn’t a good look.” Jenna scoffed. “I said it. So what? What are you going to do about it? Let me tell you, Audrey, this isn’t over.” 2 That afternoon, my director, Mark, called me into his office. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Audrey… about this situation with Jenna…” I stood in front of his desk, silent. “She’s a young woman, you know, trying to make it on her own in the city. It’s not easy. She was just in here, crying her eyes out. Said her lease is up and she has nowhere to go.” Mark sighed. “Look, you’ve got that spare room, right? Just… think of it as doing a favor for the team. Let her stay for a little while. We’ll make sure she pays her share of rent and utilities, of course.” I looked at him and, to my own surprise, a small smile touched my lips. “Mark, is this an official company directive, or your personal suggestion?” He was taken aback, his face flushing slightly. “I’m just looking out for my employees. We’re a team. We’re supposed to support each other.” “Then I decline,” I said, my smile vanishing. “My home is my private space. I don’t allow anyone to interfere with it, for any reason. Not you, and not her.” Mark’s expression hardened. “Audrey, what is that attitude? I’m trying to have a discussion with you, not give you an order!” “And the discussion is over. My answer is no.” I turned and pulled open his office door. Jenna was standing right outside, pressing her ear against the wood. The triumphant smirk on her face hadn’t had time to disappear. She jumped when she saw me, her eyes darting away guiltily. I walked past her and went back to my desk. It wasn’t long before a new post appeared on the company’s anonymous internal message board. The title was: “Spill the tea on the cold-blooded coworker who drives a luxury car and lives in a penthouse.” The post was a masterpiece of slander, painting me as a vicious, wealthy bully who got her kicks from tormenting new hires. It didn’t use my name, but every detail pointed directly at me. Within minutes, there were over a hundred replies. “I know who this is about. It’s gotta be Audrey. She always acts so high and mighty.” “Wow, I never would have guessed she was like that. That’s awful.” “Poor Jenna. I can’t believe she’s being treated this way.” I scrolled through the venomous comments, my face a blank mask. My phone vibrated. A text from Ethan. “Ms. Ross, it’s all been taken care of.” I texted back a simple “Okay.” I closed the browser tab and got back to work. Just before five, Jenna appeared at my desk, dragging a massive suitcase behind her. A small group of curious colleagues trailed in her wake. “Audrey, I’m moving in tonight. And you’re not going to stop me.” She looked like she was ready for a fight to the death. I typed the last word of my document, saved the file, and shut down my computer. Then I stood up and grabbed my purse. “I’ll say it one more time. You are not welcome in my home.” “You—!” Jenna sputtered, then suddenly clutched her stomach, her face paling as she doubled over. “Oh god, my stomach hurts so bad.” She collapsed dramatically to the floor, letting out a pained groan. “Jenna, what’s wrong?” “Someone call 911!” Our coworkers descended into chaos. Lying on the floor, through a gap in the legs of the people surrounding her, Jenna shot me a look of pure provocation. I just watched her performance, unmoved. Finally, someone from the on-site first aid office arrived and did a quick check. “She’s fine,” the medic announced. “Just overworked herself and pulled a muscle. A little out of breath from the excitement.” The color on Jenna’s face shifted through five different shades of humiliation. I walked past her, the sharp click-clack of my heels echoing in the now-silent office. “Nice performance,” I said as I passed. “You should try something more challenging next time.” 3 I thought that would be the end of it for a few days. I was wrong. The next evening, she brought the battle to my doorstep. I pulled into my spot in the building’s underground garage and saw her standing by the elevator bank with a middle-aged couple. They looked weathered and tired, their eyes darting around the pristine garage with a mixture of awe and discomfort. As soon as I got out of my car, Jenna rushed over. “Audrey, you’re home.” She gestured to the couple behind her, her voice ringing with self-righteousness. “These are my parents. They came all the way from my hometown to see me, and to thank you in person.” My brow furrowed. Thank me? Jenna’s mother hurried toward me, clutching a reusable grocery bag full of what looked like homemade goods. Her face was stretched into an eager, placating smile. “You must be Audrey. Such a good girl. Our Jenna has been so much trouble for you.” She tried to shove the bag into my hands. I took a step back, avoiding it. “Ma’am, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Jenna’s father, a quiet man, sized me up before speaking in a low, heavy voice. “Jenna told us everything. She said you agreed to let her move in, and that you wouldn’t even charge her rent. As her parents, we can’t let you be so generous without showing our gratitude. This is just a little something from us.” I looked past them to Jenna. She was hiding behind her parents, a victorious smirk playing on her lips. She thought she had me. She thought she could use her parents to morally blackmail me into a corner. “I have not agreed to anything,” I said, my voice ice-cold. The smiles on her parents’ faces froze. Jenna immediately jumped in, her voice thick with fake tears. “Audrey, how could you say that in front of my parents? You promised me yesterday!” She turned to them, the tears now streaming down her face. “Mom, Dad, she’s bullying me! She’s looking down on us because we’re not from the city!” Her mother instantly turned on me, positioning herself as a human shield. “Young lady, how could you? What did our Jenna ever do to you to deserve this?” “You have to have a conscience! Our Jenna thought you were a friend, and you treat her like this!” Their voices grew louder, attracting the attention of other residents passing through the garage. People started to stare, to point. I was being cast as the villain, the cruel landlord bullying the poor girl from out of town. Jenna, safely behind her parents, sobbed as if her heart was breaking. Looking at this ridiculous family drama, I almost wanted to laugh. Instead, I took out my phone and dialed a secure internal number. “Ethan? Yes, it’s Audrey Ross. There’s a disturbance downstairs in the A tower garage affecting other residents. Could you please handle it?” I hung up and crossed my arms, looking at them. “You can continue this scene if you like. However, building security will likely be escorting you out shortly.” Jenna’s mother started to retort, but her father grabbed her arm. Years of hard work had apparently given him better instincts than his daughter. He knew I wasn’t bluffing. A moment later, two uniformed security guards and a man in a sharp suit appeared, walking quickly toward us. It was Ethan. “Ms. Ross,” he said, giving me a respectful nod before turning his attention to Jenna’s family, his expression hardening. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?” Seeing what she thought was a neutral party, Jenna immediately played the victim. “We’re relatives of a resident in this building! She won’t let us in!” she cried, pointing at me. Ethan glanced at me. I gave a slight shake of my head. He understood immediately. “Ma’am, we have received no visitor notifications from any resident. Furthermore, your behavior is disturbing the peace. Per the building’s regulations, I must ask you to leave the premises immediately.” His tone was absolute. “You!” Jenna choked out. “Do you even know who she is? She’s just a renter here, like me! Why are you listening to her?” Ethan’s professional demeanor didn’t waver. “I only know that if you do not leave, I will be forced to take further action.” He gestured, and the two guards took a step forward, their presence suddenly much more imposing. Jenna’s parents were finally scared. They grabbed their unwilling daughter and scurried away. Just before they disappeared, Jenna looked back over her shoulder and shot me a look of pure venom. I knew this was only the beginning. 4 Things escalated, just as I expected. A few days later, I found my car keyed in the garage. A long, deep gash ran from the hood to the trunk, cutting straight through the paint. The security camera in that section was, of course, broken. “Aging wiring,” the building management told me. “It’s being repaired.” I didn’t need a camera to know who did it. Next, my deliveries and takeout orders started to “disappear.” I’d find them overturned and spilled on the floor of the mailroom, or tossed directly into the trash. I stopped ordering in and started cooking for myself. Then came the late-night phone calls. Blocked numbers. When I’d answer, there was only the hiss of static. I’d hang up, and they’d call right back. Over and over, until dawn. I blocked all unknown callers. She was determined to wear me down. At work, she became even more brazen. She somehow managed to get assigned to one of my project teams and used her limited access to create chaos. I’d ask her to schedule a meeting with a client, and she’d deliberately give them the wrong time, causing them to show up to an empty conference room. The client was furious and complained directly to Mark. Mark, in turn, chewed me out again. When I walked out of his office, Jenna was waiting for me. “How does it feel, Audrey?” she asked, clutching a stack of files to her chest, a smug smile on her face. “I told you this wasn’t over. As long as you refuse to let me in, I will make your life a living hell.” I just looked at her, my own feelings a complete blank. “Is that so?” I walked away. She watched me go, her expression shifting from simple hatred to something more cunning. I’d heard that my building had recently switched management companies due to some operational issues, and there was a lot of new staff. She must have heard something too, and figured that I was just another tenant. She thought that by getting a job with the new company, she could control me from the inside. She yelled after me, “Don’t look so smug! I found a new job! At the property management company for your precious building!” I paused. She caught up to me, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I pulled some strings to get in. From now on, I’m the one who manages your floor. Your water, your electricity, your gas—it’s all under my control. I can have it shut off whenever I want.” The look on her face was a terrifying mix of madness and glee. “Audrey, our little game is just getting started.” She thought she held the trump card. She thought she finally had me by the throat. She thought she could finally crush me. Looking at her distorted, triumphant face, I felt a sudden urge to laugh. So this was it. This was the brilliant plan she’d spent all this time and energy on. To get inside my world, just so she could abuse her petty authority to make my life miserable. When I got home, I sent a text to Ethan. “Is there a new hire starting at the management office tomorrow?” His call came a second later. “Ms. Ross, you found out? It was my call, I apologize. I thought—” “It’s not your fault,” I cut him off. “Hire her. And then, do exactly as I say.”

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