My sugar daddy got into a car crash and lost his memory. He forgot I was his girl. I took the opportunity to get pregnant and run. To give my baby the best of everything, I decided to sell off all the gifts he’d ever given me. My online marketplace listings went up one by one: [Christian Louboutins, worn once for an ex. FOR SALE.] [Diamond-encrusted Montblanc pen, favorite of a flashy finance bro. FOR SALE.] [24k gold anklet, used for… roleplay with a first love. FOR SALE.] [Hermès Birkin from my late husband. FOR SALE.] The weird thing was, every single item was snatched up instantly by the same buyer. No matter how much I jacked up the price, they bought it without hesitation. Until one day, after I’d sold everything, a new message from the mystery buyer popped up: [Is your profile picture for sale? Name your price.] I stared at the selfie on my screen and had a long, hard think. 1 When I got to Julian Croft’s hospital room, I could hear his voice, laced with disdain. “Me? Amnesia? Have you guys been watching too many soap operas?” His mother, Mrs. Croft, grabbed his hand. “Do you remember who we are, then?” Silence. “…No.” Mrs. Croft’s eyes welled up. She clutched his hand, her voice thick with emotion. “Your name is Julian Croft. You’re the heir to the Crestlight Corporation, and I’m your mother.” She wiped a tear from her eye, then turned and gestured to the girl standing behind her, nudging her forward. “And this is your fiancée, Amelia.” Through the crack in the door, I saw a bright-eyed, beautiful girl step forward. She was wearing a chic camel-colored trench coat. She gave a playful wink and took Julian’s hand, her smile sickeningly sweet. “Julian, how could you forget me?” she cooed. “It’s okay. I’ll stay with you until you remember everything.” 2 Amelia. I remembered that name. One of Julian’s buddies had brought her up at a party once. “That Amelia Hayes has been obsessed with you since you were kids, man. Following you around, telling everyone she was going to marry you.” “She’s been waiting for you forever. Aren’t you going to give the poor girl an answer?” Julian had just swirled the ice in his glass and chuckled. “Plenty of women chase me. Am I supposed to marry all of them? If you ask me, anyone who gets married is an idiot.” He said all this while casually feeding me a spoonful of gelato. I was perched on his lap, playing the part of the perfect, well-behaved sugar baby, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing. I always knew Julian was allergic to commitment. He hated being tied down, hated complications. He was a creature of impulse. He’d wake me up at 2 AM to take his private jet to Aspen, just to ski. He’d complain that he’d never seen me in a bikini while tracing the curve of my waist, and the next thing I knew, we were on a flight to the Maldives. We kissed on snow-covered slopes and held each other in crystal-clear water, acting like a couple deeply in love. But we never once said the words. Now, on the other side of the door, Julian was frowning, studying Amelia with a blank expression. When he didn’t say anything, Mrs. Croft prompted nervously, “You two were so close… but we can’t keep Amelia waiting forever. Julian, what do you think about having the engagement party next month?” Julian closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows. “She doesn’t really seem like my type,” he said lazily. “Are you guys messing with me?” Mrs. Croft and Amelia both stiffened. Then, the handsome man on the bed spoke again. “But if it was already decided, then I guess next month is fine.” Hearing that, I finally let out the breath I was holding. I looked down and placed a hand on my stomach, a smile spreading across my face instead of tears. 3 Julian didn’t know I was pregnant. We were always so careful. I have no idea what went wrong. When I saw the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, my mind went blank. But my very first thought was—I want to keep it. Julian and I had different views on marriage. I didn’t care about getting married, but I’ve always wanted a child of my own. And if I was going to have one, the father should have good genes: handsome, tall, smart… Julian checked all the boxes. At the same time, I knew I could never tell him. He thought marriage was a trap; how would he react to a baby appearing out of nowhere? He’d probably think it was a scheme to lock him down. He would, without a doubt, make me get rid of it. I had been racking my brain for an excuse to end our arrangement. And then, at this perfect moment, Julian got amnesia. He had no idea who I was. Could there be a better time to disappear? My decision was made. I was leaving tonight. 4 While Julian was still in the hospital, I rushed back to his penthouse. I was halfway through packing when the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, walked in, looking concerned. “Miss Winters, are you… running away?” she asked, wringing her hands. “If Mr. Croft comes back and you’re gone, what am I supposed to tell him?” If I just vanished, she’d be a loose end. So, I told her the truth. “Mrs. Croft has arranged his engagement. My contract with Julian is over,” I explained. “He has amnesia now; he doesn’t remember me. If you want to keep your job here, you’ll forget about me too.” Mrs. Gable nodded vigorously, getting the message immediately. Just in case, I took out my phone and sent her a generous “severance package” via Zelle. “Please, keep this a secret, Mrs. Gable.” The second the words were out of my mouth, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I answered. A cool, unfamiliar-yet-familiar voice came through the speaker. “Who is this?” 5 The accident was bad. Julian had smashed his phone along with his head. He never saved contacts with names, just numbers. He was probably going through his new phone, trying to figure out who was who. Crap. I almost forgot about that. Thinking fast, I pitched my voice a little higher, a little rougher. “Mr. Croft, this is Maria. I was your housekeeper. You fired me last week because my cooking was terrible.” It wasn’t a total lie. I had tried to be the domestic type once, pulling up recipes online to cook for him. It was a disaster. The first meal I made gave him food poisoning so bad he spent three days in the hospital on an IV drip. After that, I was banned from the kitchen. There was a pause on the other end. “Was I really that bored?” he mused. “Saving the housekeeper’s number.” He paused again. “Is that you in your profile picture? You look… familiar.” My heart leaped into my throat. I forced myself to sound calm. “No, it’s just a picture I found online.” “Hm,” he said, and hung up. A second later, a notification popped up. Julian Croft is no longer in your contacts. What a jerk, I thought, rolling my eyes. 6 The picture was one Julian had taken. He’d gone through a phase where he bought a fancy new camera, claiming he wanted to get into bird photography. I was his first test subject. In the photo, I had fallen asleep against a trellis in the garden. The backlighting made my face a little blurry, but with the pruning shears and a trowel at my feet, I did kind of look like a gardener. I stared at it for a second, then, without hesitation, I changed it. After triple-checking that I had erased every trace of myself from his life, I walked out of Julian Croft’s penthouse with my suitcase. The city lights blurred past the car window as we drove away. Watching the building shrink in the distance, the weight of the pregnancy I’d been carrying on my shoulders finally lifted. I couldn’t help but grin. “Baby,” I whispered to my stomach, “we finally ditched your deadbeat dad. Let’s go home.”

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My daughter got into a fight at school. The principal told her to write an apology note. She wrote: “I’m sorry. And I’d do it again.” When I asked her why she fought, she told me, “Three boys were picking on my desk-mate. I couldn’t just stand there, so I laid them out.” My wife and I were floored. Our daughter, one girl, against three boys? Seriously? But then again, Lily is already 5’3″, taller than most of the boys in her grade. Plus, I’ve taught her a few self-defense moves over the years. Taking on three of them wasn’t entirely out of the question. Her desk-mate is a sweet girl named Chloe. Chloe is on the autism spectrum and has trouble communicating, but she’s the kind of kid who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Just a genuinely good, harmless soul. My wife and I talked it over. We decided Lily did the right thing. We had to have her back. **1.** Her homeroom teacher told me the boys weren’t exactly unscathed. Their parents had taken them to urgent care to get checked out and were coming in tomorrow to talk about “damages.” This was far from over. I decided to handle it myself. The next day, I walked into the principal’s office with Lily. Six furious parents swarmed us immediately, accusing my daughter of being “violent,” “unhinged,” and “the kind of girl who’ll never get a date.” They pointed at me, throwing out a classic: “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I had Lily recount exactly what happened. “Yesterday during gym class,” she said, her voice steady, “Kyle, Brandon, and Tyler pushed Chloe to the ground for no reason. They were stepping on her and hitting her, and they snatched her GizmoWatch.” Chloe’s mom, Sarah, was there too. She confirmed to me that Chloe’s watch was missing. Kyle, Brandon, and Tyler denied everything, of course. They claimed Lily was making it all up and demanded she show some proof. I looked at the smug expressions on those little punks’ faces. They were so confident because they must have checked for security cameras before they made their move. What they didn’t know is that these days, you don’t need security cameras. **2.** I took a walk to the “crime scene” on the athletic field. It was right next to the faculty parking lot, which was full of Teslas and other new EVs. Modern electric cars basically all have a Sentry Mode. With cameras pointing in every direction, they’re better than any surveillance system. I got in touch with a few of the car owners, and sure enough, I got the evidence of Kyle and his friends bullying Chloe. The footage showed the three of them sneaking up on Chloe while she was squatting down, watching ants on the pavement. Tyler shoved her from behind, knocking her flat. Brandon pinned her down with his foot, and Kyle, with the smooth, practiced motion of a soccer player, kicked her right in the head. It was fluid, efficient. Clearly not their first time. Then, they ripped the red kids’ smartwatch off Chloe’s wrist, stomped on it a few times, and tossed it into a nearby trash can before swaggering off. I showed the footage to the parents. The room went silent. But when Sarah saw what they did to her daughter, her eyes instantly turned red. She lunged at the three little bastards. Their parents scrambled to shield their precious boys, chirping a chorus of excuses: “They’re just kids!” “Boys will be boys, a little roughhousing is normal!” “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” Sarah was outnumbered, two fists against six. She knew she couldn’t get justice for her daughter right then and there, but she wasn’t letting the money go. That watch was expensive, a special model with precision GPS tracking because Chloe sometimes wanders off. When the other parents heard the watch cost five hundred dollars, they immediately accused Sarah of trying to scam them and started yelling about calling the police. A smile spread across my face. “Call the police? Perfect. Go ahead, you be the plaintiffs. That way, no one can say I’m bullying you.” One of the dads, full of bluster, dialed 911. Fifteen minutes later, a patrol car pulled up. The officer leading the way saw me and his eyes went wide. “Detective? What are you doing here?” Everyone froze. *Detective?* I cleared my throat and clapped the young officer on the shoulder. “Today, I’m just a concerned parent, Miller. You just handle it by the book.” **3.** Miller got the message. He immediately switched on his body cam, started taking statements, verified the timeline, and secured the evidence. He ran the whole process flawlessly. Since the value of the destroyed property was over $500, it met the threshold for felony criminal mischief. So, I suggested to Miller that he take the three little punks down to the station. “If they resist,” I added, “cuff ’em.” Kyle, Brandon, and Tyler burst into tears, throwing themselves on the floor and wailing. Their parents panicked, pulling out their phones to record me, shouting about police brutality and abuse of power. “He’s a minor!” one mom shrieked. “Minors can get away with murder! What’s a little property damage?” I played dumb. “Minor? He doesn’t look like a minor to me. You can go get a copy of his birth certificate to prove it. I’ll have him released once you do.” Miller played his part beautifully, grabbing two of the bawling kids by the arm and starting towards his cruiser. The sight was enough to make all three of them wet their pants. The parents finally realized they’d messed with the wrong guy. They quickly agreed to a private settlement with Sarah. In the end, the three families coughed up six hundred dollars for Sarah—two hundred each. It barely covered Chloe’s doctor visit co-pay. After we left the school, Sarah couldn’t stop thanking me. She even tried to give the six hundred dollars to my daughter as an allowance, which I politely refused. Not to be deterred, Sarah thought for a moment, then opened the trunk of her car and pulled out a huge, foil-wrapped brisket. “I smoked this myself,” she said. “It’s an old family recipe from Texas. I even sell it online.” I accepted the brisket and gave her a piece of advice. “You need to pick Chloe up and drop her off personally for a while. Kids these days can be vengeful. Don’t give them another chance to get to her.” I never imagined my warning would come true so soon. **4.** It was a rainy afternoon. I was at home, braising some short ribs for Lily, when my phone rang. It was Sarah, her voice choked with tears. “Mike, Chloe’s gone!” “I’ve been waiting at the school gate, but she never came out. Her watch is in her desk drawer. The teachers have looked everywhere, but there’s no sign of her.” A chill went down my spine. I asked Lily if she knew anything. She said she was sure Chloe was in the classroom right before the final bell. How could she just vanish? I immediately called the local precinct and asked them to send officers to the school to help with the search. I also requested they check all nearby traffic and security cameras to see if Chloe had left the campus through another exit. Teachers, security guards, cops—about thirty of us scoured every inch of that school. We checked utility closets, elevator shafts, water tanks, every conceivable hiding spot. There was no trace of Chloe. My gut told me this had everything to do with Kyle, Brandon, and Tyler. Security footage from the school hallway showed them following her as she left the classroom. It was highly suspicious. I decided it was time for a chat. I had them brought down to the station. It didn’t take long to get the story. The three of them had been holding a grudge. But with my daughter watching over Chloe at school and Sarah waiting at the gate, they couldn’t find an opportunity to get to her. So, Kyle came up with a nasty little plan. He’d scribbled a note in Chloe’s workbook, forging my daughter’s handwriting: “I need to talk to you. Meet me at the southwest corner of the school after the bell.” It was a clumsy lie, but it was enough to fool Chloe, whose trust was absolute. To her, Lily was her only friend, and a note from Lily was like a royal decree. The southwest corner of the school was a construction site for a new building expansion. It was usually fenced off with metal panels to keep students out, but Kyle and his friends knew a spot where they could squeeze through. And dismissal time was when the construction crew took their dinner break. The site was deserted. “When Chloe came running over,” Kyle said with a shrug, “we grabbed her, beat her up a little, and then shoved her into a hole…” I cut him off. “What did the hole look like? What was it for?” Kyle threw his hands up. “How the hell should I know? It was deep and narrow. Just big enough to fit a person. She’s probably still in there. Go look.” My heart leaped into my throat. From his description, the hole Chloe was in was almost certainly a borehole for a foundation pile. And I remembered seeing the cement trucks when we were searching for Chloe earlier that evening. The concrete piles for the new foundation had already been poured. **5.** I raced to the construction site and asked the workers if they’d seen a little girl, about 4’7″, with two pigtails, wearing sneakers with pandas on them. When the crew heard a little girl might be buried in one of the foundation piles, they were horrified. They all said they hadn’t heard a thing when they were pouring the concrete. It was dark, and even if a child was in one of the holes, they might not have seen her. I had no choice but to bring Kyle and his friends to the site to identify where they’d left Chloe. They pointed left, then right, then admitted they couldn’t remember which hole it was. The construction guys were decent people. They all agreed to dig up the piles. “Maybe the kid got lucky,” one of them said. “Maybe she got out.” Over a hundred workers gave up their rest, grabbing shovels and pickaxes and starting to chip away at the fresh concrete. They didn’t dare use heavy machinery for fear of hurting Chloe. The site foreman pulled me aside and discreetly tried to slip a carton of cigarettes into my jacket pocket. He asked quietly if we could stop digging. “If the kid’s in there,” he said, his voice low, “she’s a goner for sure.” I thought he was worried about the cost and told him the department would compensate him for any losses. He shook his head. “It ain’t about the money, Detective.” “Look,” he said, “a while back, we had a couple of cats and dogs fall into the boreholes before a pour. Got encased in concrete with the rebar. It was a gruesome sight. This is a *kid*. Digging her up… nobody wants to see that. It’ll mess you up.” I hesitated, but I had to ask Sarah. Her face was a stone mask. “I want to see her,” she whispered. “Alive or dead, I have to know. I can’t live with a ghost of hope.” About five hours later, a shout went up from the workers. “Found her!” Sarah and I rushed over. Sticking out of the mangled concrete was a tuft of ginger-brown hair from a pigtail, and one sneaker. The panda on it was still visible. A sound tore from Sarah’s throat, a raw, inhuman scream of “Aaaahhhhh!” that just went on and on. It was a sound that would break anyone’s heart. A few of the workers couldn’t take it. As they walked past the three boys, who were being held by officers, they hawked and spat thick globs of phlegm right in their faces. Others followed suit. These were working men, fathers themselves. If it weren’t for the cops standing there, the crowd would have drowned those three in spit. **6.** The case was solved, but Sarah’s fight for justice was just beginning. The question now was how to classify the boys’ actions. Was it murder, or was it bullying that went horribly wrong? It was a hard line to draw. Kyle and his friends insisted it was all a “prank.” They claimed they had no idea what the holes were for or that the construction crew was going to be pouring concrete that very night. Chloe’s death, in their words, was a tragic “accident.” Their parents immediately started shifting blame. “My son acts out at school, where were the teachers?” “You should be arresting the concrete workers, not my boy!” But to me, it was murder. Cold-blooded and clear. The medical examiner’s report was damning. Chloe’s hands had been bound behind her back. Her mouth was full of red cotton fibers. This meant they hadn’t just pushed her into the hole. They had tied her up and gagged her, most likely with their Boy Scout neckerchiefs. They even went back and placed her GPS watch in her desk to delay the search. If that wasn’t premeditation, I don’t know what is. My captain, however, thought my conclusions were too subjective, too driven by emotion. He was worried. “Murder is a heavy charge, Mike,” he said. “It’ll destroy the lives of three kids. What if you’re wrong?” I couldn’t believe it. “They’re kids? So what was Chloe? The bullies are kids, but the dead girl isn’t?” He told me I was too green, too narrow-minded. He pointed out that Kyle, Brandon, and Tyler were all only children, all boys from “good families.” We, as police, had to proceed with extreme caution. “If you can’t find hard evidence of intent,” he finished, “we’ll process this as involuntary manslaughter. I don’t want you going rogue on this, Mike.” **7.** I knew that if they got off with a slap on the wrist for “manslaughter,” it would be a profound injustice to Sarah and a betrayal of Chloe’s memory. Just as I was hitting a wall, I remembered something the construction foreman had said—about cats and dogs being found buried in the concrete before. A dog falling into a borehole, I could understand. But a cat? Cats can climb. I drove back to the construction site and found the foreman. I asked him about the animals in the concrete piles. He warmed to the subject immediately. “Yeah, we found ’em during non-destructive testing,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Been in this business thirty years, seen plenty of critters get trapped. But a cat was a first. I even took a picture.” I stared at the photo on his phone. It was a blurry image of a cat’s skeleton suspended in a cross-section of concrete. And then I saw it. The cat’s legs weren’t just broken. They were bent backwards, at impossible angles. Someone had deliberately and sadistically snapped its limbs before tossing it into that hole to die.

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When I was in the hospital, my husband of nearly fifty years, at 70, ran into his old flame. He divorced me on my deathbed to marry her. And my own daughter, the A-list actress I’d worked my whole life to support, posted a picture of them on Instagram with the caption: “True love wins. So happy for my Mom and Dad.” The rage literally killed me. Then I opened my eyes. And I was back on the day of my engagement party. **1** Everything felt hazy, like a dream. I was standing in front of a full-length mirror, dressed in a stunning ivory gown for my engagement party with Ethan. God, I was so young. Healthy. No trace of the illness that had wasted me away. I was beautiful and full of life. I glanced down at the diamond ring on my finger, the one I had cherished for a lifetime. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. In my last life, I was so sick and frail that the ring was constantly slipping off my bony finger. But it was the first thing Ethan had ever given me, so I refused to take it off. He, however, let his long-lost love, Tiffany, rip it violently from my hand. When I tried to fight for it, he’d snapped at me, his voice dripping with annoyance. “It’s just a ring, Clara! It doesn’t even fit you anymore. Tiffany likes it, so let her have it. You’re dying, for God’s sake, can you stop being so petty? Just rest, don’t work yourself into another episode!” While I lay dying, he didn’t even have the decency to wait. He married Tiffany in a rush. He stood by my hospital bed, shamelessly declaring, “If it weren’t for a misunderstanding back then, we would’ve never broken up! She’s been waiting for me all these years, Clara. I can’t let her down again! Hate me if you want, but I’m marrying her!” I’d already done my research. Tiffany had spent the last few decades as a kept woman, bouncing between wealthy old men until her looks faded. She only came back to Ethan for his money. But he wouldn’t believe me. Even our daughter, Ava, the movie star whose career I had built from the ground up, stabbed me in the back, defending them online for the world to see. “True love wins. So happy for my Mom and Dad.” The betrayal, the sheer fury of it all, was what finally stopped my heart. And now, I was back. With a chance to cut him out of my life like the cancer he was. We were on the stage at the reception hall. The officiant was reciting the vows, prompting us to exchange rings. I just stood there, silent. The entire room went quiet. Ethan nudged me, his voice a tense whisper. “Clara, the rings!” Slowly, I pulled the ring from my own finger. I took the microphone from the officiant’s hand and faced our guests. “Everyone,” I announced, my voice clear and steady. “I’m so sorry to have you all come out here for nothing. The engagement between Ethan and myself is officially cancelled. Please, feel free to leave.” A wave of gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Ethan stared at me, his face a mask of disbelief. He grabbed my arm. “Clara, what the hell are you talking about? What is this? A joke?” he hissed. “You’re the one who pushed for this engagement, and now you’re calling it off? Are you trying to make a fool out of me?” I looked at him, at his self-righteous anger, and felt nothing but cold pity. How dare he act like the victim? “Why is it cancelled?” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Ethan, you should be asking yourself that. If you don’t love me, why did you agree to marry me?” He just looked confused and impatient. “What nonsense are you spouting now, Clara? Let’s just get this over with. I have to get back to the office for a meeting.” Of course. The office. It was the same in our last life. As soon as the party was over, he was gone. Well, let’s see how busy he is when a different woman is involved. I turned and pointed toward the ballroom entrance, where a familiar figure was just walking in. “Fine,” I said. “Tell me you love me, right here, in front of her. Tell me you’ll only ever love me, and we can continue.” **2** The moment Ethan saw Tiffany standing by the door, his face went dark. I knew it. He was still in love with her. He was only marrying me because everyone—our friends, our families—expected it. It was my “reward” for being the good, supportive partner. We’d been together for seven years. We built our company, Innovatech, from the ground up. I was the one making cold calls and closing deals in the beginning, and I was the one who played the perfect corporate wife when we made it. Everyone loved me. This engagement was their idea as much as it was mine. I’d pressured him, and he’d finally, reluctantly, agreed. But he’d used “work” as an excuse to avoid every single aspect of the planning. This party was the first and only thing he’d shown up for. In my last life, I thought he was just emotionally reserved. I thought if I just loved him harder, was more patient, I could warm his heart. I wasted a lifetime trying. I’m not doing it again. If he wants Tiffany so badly, he can have her. His eyes were cold as ice as he stared at me. “Clara, who gave you the nerve to invite her here? Are you insane?” He was always so calm, so composed. Seeing him lose his cool like this was almost funny. “You said you wanted to continue,” I reminded him. “So say it. Say you love me.” He wasn’t playing along. “Clara, have you had enough? If you want to throw a tantrum, do it at home after the party is over! Officiant, let’s proceed!” “Wait!” I interrupted again. This time, I reached up, pulled the veil from my hair, and tossed it onto the floor. I walked off the stage and grabbed Tiffany’s arm, pulling her into the center of the room. “Ethan, you can’t even say you love me, can you? Not with your old flame standing right here,” I declared. “But you don’t have to struggle. Our engagement is off. You two can have this one instead!” I gave Tiffany a subtle look. That was her cue. Right on schedule, tears started streaming down her face like a broken faucet. She choked out, “Ethan, I had a reason for leaving you back then! A good reason! I love you, please, don’t marry her. I’m begging you!” **3** The first thing I did after I came back was call Tiffany. I told her to come and crash the party. She didn’t believe me at first. But Tiffany is, and always has been, greedy. All I had to do was mention Ethan’s success. “He owns Innovatech now. You can look it up, the company’s worth a fortune. I’m giving you a shot. Whether you take it or not is up to you.” “Why are you helping me?” she’d asked, suspicious. “Because I’m sick of hearing him whisper your name in his sleep,” I lied smoothly, a plausible excuse. “But I have one condition.” Seeing her take the bait, I laid out my terms. “I co-founded that company. My name might not be on the deed, but I poured my blood and sweat into it. When you two get together, I want my half. You have to help me get it. Otherwise, you’ll never find out where this party is.” She agreed instantly, of course. And she didn’t disappoint. Her little performance was all it took to shut Ethan up. His eyes were red as he stared at her. He tried to sound cold, but the emotion was raw in his voice. “You think I’ll believe a word you say? I’m not that same stupid kid anymore, Tiffany! You can’t fool me again!” Wiping her tears, Tiffany reached for his hand and dropped the bombshell. “Ethan, I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you. But… for the last seven years, I’ve been raising our son. Please, just give me another chance.” A son? They had a son? I felt a flash of ironic humor. This was even better than I’d planned. A secret love child was the perfect tool to ensure everyone would push them together. The awkward whispers among our friends started immediately. “Oh my god, they have a son? She raised his kid alone for seven years? Wow, that’s… that’s true love, I guess.” “Yeah, seven years is a long time to do that on your own. Ethan, you gotta think about this.” “I mean, this is really unfair to Clara, but… a kid’s involved. For the kid’s sake, Ethan has to be with Tiffany.” Ethan’s parents, who valued family legacy above all else, suddenly found their voices. “Ethan, what are you waiting for?” his father boomed. “You want my grandson calling some other man ‘Dad’? Not on my watch!” “Exactly!” his mother chimed in. “And Clara’s the one who called it off anyway! We can just switch the bride! Everyone’s already here, we can’t let all the money we spent on this party go to waste!” Ethan was still hesitating when the main doors swung open. A little boy came running in, heading straight for Tiffany. He tugged on her dress, his face bright with excitement. “Mommy, you said we found my daddy! Where is he? Who’s my dad?” **4** That was it. The kid sealed the deal. Any doubt Ethan had vanished. He turned to me, his expression a mess of guilt and relief. “Clara… I’m so sorry. You see how it is. Tiffany… she had my son. I can’t turn my back on them. I know you’re hurt, but today… I have to get engaged to Tiffany.” I managed a magnanimous smile. Hurt? Please. This was all my doing. “If you’re really sorry, then don’t give me a hard time when we’re dividing the company assets. I’ll come by the office next week to discuss the details. For now, I won’t interrupt your… happy reunion.” Hearing me mention the company, Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but the little boy threw his arms around his legs. “Daddy! You’re really my daddy!” I used the distraction to make a quick exit. The guests just stood there, stunned into silence. I mean, who officiates an engagement where the bride gets swapped out halfway through? But what could they say? As soon as I was out of the ballroom, I found the hotel manager. “I’m sure you’ve heard,” I said calmly. “I’m no longer the bride. You’ll need to get the final payment for this event from the groom.” I had planned this party to be perfect, sparing no expense. The original plan was to cover any overages from my personal savings. Now? Let Ethan bleed for it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to completely ruin their party. It’s just that I had a bigger war to fight: the one for my company. I built Innovatech. There was no way in hell I was just handing it over to him. “Sir,” I added, putting on a pained expression. “I’ve just been publicly humiliated. I’m worried he might try to slander me later. Could I possibly get a copy of the security footage from the ballroom? Just to protect myself.” The manager was hesitant, citing guest privacy. But money talks. A discreetly passed envelope later, and the footage was on its way to my email. This time, I was going to be the one to burn it all down. And I was going to enjoy every minute of it.

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I was scrolling through Instagram when I saw my sister-in-law’s post raving about my mom’s famous homemade BBQ sauce. My mouth watered, so I texted my mom and asked if she could mail me a couple of jars. She didn’t text back all day. That evening, she called. “So, do you still want that BBQ sauce or not? If you do, you can Venmo me fifty bucks. You know how expensive a good brisket is, honey. I’m on a fixed income.” **1** Hearing my mom’s voice on the other end of the line, I just went silent. Earlier that afternoon, I’d seen the post from Jessica, my brother’s wife. It was a picture of perfectly glazed ribs, with the caption, “Nothing beats my mother-in-law’s secret recipe BBQ sauce! So good!” I got an instant craving and commented, asking if she could send me the brand. Jessica sent me a voice note, sounding surprised. “Oh, honey, you can’t buy this! It’s your mom’s homemade sauce. She just dropped off a whole case for us. It’s seriously the best.” So I texted Mom, asking her to send a couple of jars my way. The message was marked “Read,” but hours went by with no reply. Crickets. Meanwhile, I saw her active in our family group chat, sending boomer-memes to my aunts. I was confused. Why would she see my text and just ignore it? That night, I was in the middle of dinner when my phone rang. It was her. The knot in my stomach finally loosened. I quickly picked up. “So, do you still want that BBQ sauce or not? If you do, you can Venmo me fifty bucks. You know how expensive a good brisket is, honey. I’m on a fixed income.” The excitement I’d felt just seconds before vanished, replaced by a cold shock, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I didn’t know what to say. When I didn’t answer, her voice grew impatient. “What’s wrong? Fifty dollars is too much for you? Do you have any idea how much work this is? I have to get up at the crack of dawn to go to the butcher, trim the meat, render the fat, let it simmer all day… It’s a huge effort, Dani. You can’t just expect to get it for free.” A familiar ache spread through my chest. “Mom,” I said, my voice quiet. “I saw Jessica’s post. You gave her more than a dozen jars. I just figured you had a lot extra, that’s why I asked for two.” Her tone instantly shifted from weary to angry. “Danielle, what are you trying to say? Are you blaming me?” I had a million frustrated thoughts, but I couldn’t bring myself to fight with her. “No,” I mumbled. But that single word was like a match on gasoline. “Are you serious right now?” she snapped. “You want to compare yourself to Jessica? Get real. Jessica has a master’s degree, she’s gorgeous, and her family is wealthy. Her marrying Kevin was the best thing that ever happened to this family. Not to mention, she gave us our beautiful grandson.” “And you?” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “You married a government worker. A guy with no connections, from a no-name family. He barely cracks six figures. After your mortgage and car payments, what do you even have left?” “Honestly, Dani, it’s embarrassing. Your brother, thanks to Jessica’s father, has a booming business. He takes care of us. And your husband? The bottle of wine he brings for Thanksgiving is from the grocery store. It’s humiliating. Your father can’t even look at it.” It was like a dam had broken, and all her years of disappointment in me came flooding out. I always knew there was a pecking order in my family, that my brother was the golden child. But I never knew she saw the gap between us as a chasm. I bit my lip, forcing back tears. “I get it, Mom. I won’t ask for the sauce again. You can keep it. Keep it all for Jessica. Your BBQ sauce is too rich for my blood.” I ended the call before she could reply. The second the screen went dark, the tears came. I curled up on the sofa, burying my face in my hands. A few minutes later, I heard the beep of the keypad at the front door. It was my husband, Mark, home from work. I quickly wiped my eyes. Mark walked in, holding a small paper bag. “Hey, babe, look what I got!” he said with a grin. “Those cronuts from the place on the West side you were talking about this morning. Got you one of each.” He sat down next to me and his smile faded. He saw my red eyes. “Hey,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around me. “What’s wrong?” I just shook my head. “Nothing. Just watched a sad movie.” Mark gave me a tired, loving smile. “You and your tearjerkers.” He pulled me closer, and I just let myself be held, trying to breathe past the lump in my throat. I didn’t expect my brother to show up that night. Mark opened the door to see Kevin standing there, and immediately put on a welcoming smile. Kevin, however, looked like he was ready for a fight. He brushed past Mark and bellowed, “Danielle! Where is she? Get out here!” I came out of the bedroom with a sheet mask on my face, frowning. “What are you doing here?” My relationship with Kevin was… strained. Growing up, our parents’ favoritism was obvious. He learned early on that he was the king of the castle, and I was, at best, a court jester. No matter how he bullied me, Mom and Dad always took his side. We grew up more like rivals than siblings. Then he married Jessica, whose family owned a massive logistics company. A few crumbs of their business were enough to make Kevin a rich man. In our parents’ eyes, he could now walk on water. My standing in the family plummeted to somewhere below Jessica’s purebred golden retriever. Then I met Mark. He wasn’t a big shot, but he was kind and steady. We had our own little house, our own life. In this home, I had my own space, my own voice. Mark never belittled me; he listened to me, respected me. So, I didn’t care if my family looked down on us. Their money had nothing to do with me. Mark offered Kevin a glass of water. Kevin waved it away with a smug look. “No thanks, man. Just came from a client dinner. Drank a few hundred dollars’ worth of single malt. Pretty full.” I couldn’t help myself. “Wow, you’re so fancy. What are you doing in our humble little home? Aren’t you afraid of getting your expensive shoes dirty?” Kevin’s face tightened. “Always with the smart mouth, Dani. You think I wanted to come here? Did you call Mom today and make her cry? I just got home and she was a complete wreck. Do you have a conscience? What did she ever do to you?” “It’s just a couple of jars of BBQ sauce,” he scoffed. “Is it really that big of a deal?” He then turned to Mark. “And you, man. I know money’s tight, but you can’t even buy your wife a bottle of sauce from the store? You let her call my mom and throw a tantrum? That’s not cool.” Mark’s jaw tensed, but his voice was even. “Kevin, I respect you as Dani’s brother, but don’t cross the line. Dani is your sister. You should talk to her with a little more respect.” Kevin just laughed. “Facts are facts. She found out my wife got some of Mom’s sauce, and she threw a jealous fit on the phone. What part of that isn’t true?” Mark’s expression didn’t change. “She’s your sister. She’s our mother’s daughter. Is it really such a crime for a daughter to ask her mother for a jar of BBQ sauce?” he asked calmly. “Or have you all just decided she’s not part of the family anymore? Our mother can give it to her daughter-in-law, but not her own child? What’s the difference?” I was stunned. I thought I’d hidden how bad things were at home from Mark. I was too ashamed to talk about it. Mark’s words set Kevin off. “What’s the difference? You have the nerve to ask what the difference is?” he shouted. “Look at my wife, and then look at Dani! She can’t hold a candle to Jessica! There’s a reason my mom loves my wife! Maybe Dani should take a hard look in the mirror and ask herself why!” “ENOUGH!” The word exploded from Mark. Kevin froze. I jumped. Mark was the calmest person I knew. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even seen him truly angry. Kevin recovered quickly. “What’s your problem, man? Are you yelling at me? Are you insane? I’m just telling the truth! You might treat her like a princess, but in our family, she was always less than—” He never finished the sentence. Mark’s fist connected with his jaw. Mark works out; even in a loose shirt, you can see the muscle. Kevin went down hard and stayed there, groaning. Mark walked to the door and opened it. “Get out,” he said, his voice deadly quiet. “We don’t want you here. And if you want to call the cops, go ahead. I’ll be waiting.” Kevin scrambled to his feet, terrified Mark would hit him again, and scurried out the door, muttering curses under his breath. As soon as the door was closed, Mark rushed over and wrapped his arms around me. “Dani, it’s okay. Don’t be scared.” I shook my head, my voice trembling. “I’m not scared. I’m just worried he’s going to come after you.” Kevin was vindictive. “Don’t worry about him,” Mark said, holding me tight. “It’ll be fine.” A week went by with no word from my brother or my parents. I started to think maybe it was all over. Then, one evening when I got home from work, I found my mother standing on my doorstep, holding several overflowing grocery bags. She lit up when she saw me. “Dani, honey, you’re home!” “Look,” she said, lifting the bags. “I brought you some of the BBQ sauce. And I got you some organic supplements from the farmer’s market, and some fresh eggs.” I was instantly on guard. My mother had never, ever been this generous with me. Something was wrong. I let her in and she set the bags down on the counter. I poured her a glass of water. She took it, looking around our small living room. “So, Dani, are you doing okay?” I crossed my arms. “Just say what you came to say, Mom. You don’t have to beat around the bush.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Okay. It’s your brother. He’s in some trouble. A big shipment of his for export got held up at the port—some issue with the paperwork. He’s called everyone he knows, but no one can help. Then he found out… well, he found out Mark works for Customs and Border Protection.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Could you ask Mark to talk to his supervisor? Just to… you know… pull some strings? Get them to approve the shipment?” Without a second of hesitation, I said, “No.” Her face fell. “How can you be so heartless? It’s such a small favor. He’s your brother!” “Is he?” I shot back. “When has he ever treated me like a sister?” A flicker of guilt crossed her eyes before she quickly masked it. “Oh, Dani, don’t be so dramatic. You two just roughhoused as kids. You can’t hold a grudge forever. Your brother might have a sharp tongue, but he has a good heart. He loves you.” “Think about it,” she pressed on. “Mark punched him last week, and did he call the police? No! He kept quiet, for the sake of the family. He took the hit.” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Don’t try to make him a saint, Mom. You know he got punched, but do you know why? He was insulting me, in my own home, in front of my husband. If Mark had just sat there and taken it, I would have divorced him.” She sighed dramatically. “Dani, no matter what, you two are family. Blood is thicker than water. You can’t be this cruel.” I looked her straight in the eye. “Mark is a federal agent, Mom. He has spent years building his career, being careful, following the rules. If there was nothing wrong with Kevin’s shipment, it wouldn’t be held up. And if there *is* something wrong with it, and Mark gets involved, he could lose his job, his pension, or even go to jail. Is that what you want?” My mom looked away, her face flushing with discomfort. “How could there be anything wrong with it?” she mumbled, not sounding convinced at all.

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My period chose the absolute worst week to crash the party: Freshman Orientation Boot Camp. The cramps felt like someone was wringing out my insides with rusty pliers. I raised a shaky hand, my voice barely a whisper, asking the Drill Instructor for a break. A heartbeat later, Sophie’s hand shot up too. Sophie. My boyfriend Liam’s childhood best friend. The girl he grew up next door to. I glanced over at her. Her face was fresh, her ponytail bouncing, not a single drop of sweat on her perfectly tanned skin. Instructor Davis scowled, his patience already worn thin by a hundred clueless freshmen. “This isn’t a spa day. I’ve got one spot on the bench. One. The second person who thinks they need a break can think again.” From the guys’ platoon across the field, Liam’s voice cut through the morning air. “Harper, come on, you’re tough as nails! Sophie… she’s always been kind of delicate.” He wasn’t finished. “It’s just cramps, babe. Can’t you just let her have this one?” 1 A wave of obnoxious laughter rippled through the guys’ formation. “Damn, Liam, already got her cycle tracked on your Google Calendar?” “He said she’s ‘tough as nails,’ man. Guess he’s done his own… durability comparison with his ‘delicate’ little friend.” Sophie blushed and swatted the air in their direction. “Oh, stop it, you guys! A guy can’t worry about his little sister from another mister?” “Ooooh, ‘little sister’!” they hooted back, nudging each other. Someone yelled a crude joke, “If you’re so worried she’s tired, Liam, maybe you should do all the heavy lifting for her tonight!” Sophie feigned anger and tossed an empty water bottle at them. The guys’ instructor barked at them to get their heads out of their asses and run laps. That just left us. Our instructor, Davis, looked at me. My face must have been ghost-white because a cold sweat was prickling my hairline. He pointed a thick finger at me. “You. Go to the medical tent.” Then he jerked his chin at Sophie. “You. Get back in formation. Now.” Her perfectly shaped lips immediately formed a pout. She shot me a look of pure venom. “I guess I just can’t compete with some people’s acting skills,” she muttered, just loud for me to hear. “Truly method.” 2 These weren’t just cramps. This was a five-alarm fire. I ended up having to get a shot of high-strength painkiller from the camp nurse just to uncurl from the fetal position. During the lunch break, Liam showed up at the medical tent. He handed me a bottle of lukewarm water, his words laced with something sharp. “Sophie’s on her period too, you know. Never seen her need a shot for it. Harper, if you’ve rested enough, you should probably get back out there. It doesn’t look good, you taking the only pass. Everyone’s thinking you’re just trying to get out of drills.” A cold dread pooled in my stomach, worse than the cramps. “What do you mean, you’ve ‘never seen her need a shot’? Just because she’s not in pain, I have to be? Liam, are you saying I’m faking this?” He pressed his lips into a thin, annoyed line. I stared at him. “So you didn’t come here to check on me. You came to see when I’d be done playing sick so your precious Sophie could have a turn at slacking off, is that it?” He set the water down with a sigh heavy with martyrdom. “That’s not what I mean. Sophie’s just… she’s sensitive. I’m just trying to look out for her, there’s nothing else to it. Harper, can you please not be so jealous?” My vision went sharp and clear. All the pain seemed to focus into a single point of icy calm. “Childhood sweethearts, inseparable, I get it. If you’re in love with her, Liam, you didn’t have to start dating me.” Panic flared in his eyes. “What? That’s crazy! I don’t feel that way about her at all!” I turned my face away. “Just go. I don’t need you here.” 3 That afternoon, I dragged myself back to the training field. Instructor Davis gave me a curt nod and pointed me back into line. “Wow, a miracle recovery,” Sophie whispered as I stood beside her. Every step was agony. I white-knuckled it until dismissal. The second we broke formation, Liam was there, holding out an ice-cold bottle of Gatorade. “Look, maybe I was a little harsh at lunch…” he started. “I just feel like…” I ignored him, unscrewing my own thermos and taking a long sip of the warm water inside. His hand hung in the air. “Still hurts?” I kept sipping my water, my eyes fixed on Sophie across the field. She was laughing with a group of friends, her cheeks flushed with a healthy, vibrant pink. “I don’t care what you ‘feel like,’ Liam. If you want to play detective, why don’t you go ask her how she’s so full of energy after she was supposedly dying this morning?” He froze. Sophie happened to look over at that exact moment. Her laughing face instantly crumpled into a mask of hurt. “I only bought her that drink because I was worried you were in trouble,” she said, her voice trembling as she walked over. “If she won’t drink it… does she really hate me that much?” 4 Liam immediately went into damage control mode. Sophie’s eyes were already glistening. He hesitated, looking completely torn, then pushed the icy bottle toward me again. “Harper, come on, just take one sip. It’s a peace offering from Sophie…” The seconds ticked by. I didn’t move. Liam’s patience snapped. He roughly shoved the bottle into my hands. “Just get over it! It’s a period, not a terminal illness! Do you have to be so damn dramatic about everything?” The freezing plastic slipped from my grasp and thudded onto the dusty ground. “FALL IN!” Davis yelled. Liam was already by Sophie’s side, walking her back to her platoon. I could hear their voices drifting back. “Liam, why would you date someone like that the second you get to college?” I saw him gently ruffle her hair. “It’s okay, Soph. It’s my fault.” I walked back to my spot. As I passed Sophie, she turned her head just enough for me to see her mouth the word. Loser. A white-hot rage shot through me. I raised my voice, making it loud and sharp enough to cut through the noise of the assembling platoons. “WHO ARE YOU CALLING A LOSER?!” Everyone froze. All eyes were on us. Sophie looked stunned for a second, then her eyes instantly filled with tears. Instructor Davis marched over, his face like a thundercloud. “What’s going on here?!” She wrung her hands, looking helpless. “Sir, I… I don’t know why she’s always coming after me…” The guys’ platoon started murmuring. When Instructor Davis turned his glare on me, I took a deep breath. “Sir, permission to speak, Sir! As I was walking past, I heard someone say your training methods were ‘lame as hell’.”

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The esports god I have a crush on just humiliated me with a frying pan. Three times. The match had barely ended when he blew up our team’s Discord, demanding my number. I was staring at the screen recording that was already going viral, my brain completely short-circuiting. In the clip, he runs me over with a jeep, then hops out to finish me off with a clang from his frying pan. Later, he wins a close-quarters gunfight, knocking me to my knees, only to pull out that same stupid pan for the final blow. And in the final circle, with victory just a second away—a guaranteed “chicken dinner”—he abandons the win. He literally runs through enemy fire just to find me, a barely-alive player with a sliver of health, and smack me into oblivion with that godforsaken pan. Seriously, is my crush a complete psychopath? 1 I’m a student at Stanford, majoring in data analytics. A bit of a nerd, I guess. My scholarships pay the bills. My younger brother, Leo, is a starting player for the top esports team in the country, ACE. Last week, he lost a bet on a livestream. The penalty? He had to dye his hair neon pink for a week. He refused, ghosted his team, and went off the grid, leaving his phone and this whole mess with me. “Chloe! I’m begging you! Emergency online exhibition match just got announced, it’s mandatory and it counts for my performance score! If I lose this, my monthly bonus is toast!” his panicked text read. I was in the library, knee-deep in a data model, and didn’t even look up. I texted back: “Got it. Your sister is a Diamond rank, you know. I won’t lose you any points.” …I really wish I could go back in time and slap myself. Turns out, a “Diamond rank” player looks like a mindless bot to a professional. I logged into Leo’s account. The moment I saw my teammates’ IDs in the lobby, my heart stopped. Besides my brother’s tag, “ACE-Leo,” the other two were legends from his team. And the squad leader’s ID was: “Mars.” Asher Vance. The Asher Vance. A campus celebrity, a computer science prodigy, and a legend in the league. He’d led his team to two world championships. His playstyle was brutally aggressive, his aim was inhuman. His fans called him the God of War. I’d only ever seen him on the esports club posters in the student union. In the photos, he had sharp eyes and a lazy smirk that always played on his lips. Before my brain could catch up, the match started. “Leo, you’re quiet today. No mic?” a teammate named “ACE-Zephyr” asked. “You usually scream your head off before the jump.” My palms were sweating. I followed them, dropping into the hot zone we called “Estates.” I quickly typed in chat: “Mic’s broken.” I had just landed. I hadn’t even found a weapon. A figure vaulted off a second-story balcony, landed in front of me, and blasted me twice with a shotgun. I was down. A notification popped up: “Mars knocked down ACE-Leo with a S686.” I froze. Friendly fire? “Captain, what the hell?” the other teammate, “ACE-Bolt,” sounded just as confused. “You’re shooting Leo?” Asher didn’t say a word. He walked over to my crawling avatar, switched from his shotgun to his melee weapon, and pulled out his frying pan. CLANG. Just like that, I was watching myself dissolve into a loot box. The team’s voice channel went dead silent. “…” After a three-second pause, Zephyr spoke. “Captain, are you still drunk from last night?” 2 My face was burning. I waited for my teammates to revive me at a recall tower. The second time, we were pushing a new town. I had just taken someone down with an M416 when my screen went gray again. It was Asher. It was like he had hacks. He appeared from a blind spot I never saw, and a perfectly cooked grenade sent me flying. Then, he calmly strolled over, the same frying pan in hand. CLANG. Another loot box. “Captain, do you have a personal problem with Leo?” “Did Mars eat a bad burrito today? Why is he hunting his own teammate?” My teammates were shouting now. Asher had team-killed me twice. The third time, we were in the final circle. It was our full four-man squad against one last solo player. An easy win. I was prone behind a rock, my eyes glued to the field in front of me. Suddenly, the deafening crack of an AWM sniper rifle echoed, and my level-three helmet shattered. I was left with a single pixel of health. The one who shot me? Asher Vance. “HOLY CRAP! CAPTAIN, ARE YOU INSANE?!” Bolt screamed into his mic. I watched as Asher charged out of a smoke grenade, completely ignoring the final enemy player, and sprinted directly towards me. In his hand… was the frying pan. CLANG! “ACE has won the match!” The announcer’s voice rang out, but I felt zero joy. I stared at the man on the screen who had just murdered me with kitchenware, and I couldn’t stop myself. I typed one sentence in the all-chat. 【Do you have a problem?】 The channel went quiet. A few seconds later, a man’s voice, clear and lazy with a hint of amusement, came through the speakers for the first time. “Leo, send me your girlfriend’s number.” Girlfriend? My mind went blank. How did he know I was a girl? 3 Before I could process it, my phone started vibrating like crazy. It was a FaceTime call from Leo. The moment I answered, his frantic face filled the screen. “Chloe! What did you do to Asher Vance on my account? He just tagged me in the team group chat saying he’s ‘very interested’ in your ‘girlfriend’!” My face was numb. I sent him the screen recording of the match. Leo watched it. He went quiet. After a long pause, he asked cautiously, “Chloe… did you, like… hook up with him and then ghost him or something?” My hand slipped, and my phone clattered to the floor. Asher Vance. My university’s resident esports god. He thought I was his teammate’s girlfriend, and he hunted me down like a serial killer. And now, he wanted my number. 4 Leo’s attempt to hide out failed miserably. The team manager tracked him down and dragged him back to the team’s gaming house. He was basically on house arrest, which also meant he was hiding from me. Asher’s frying pan saga had earned my brother a new nickname on the team: “Sells-His-Sister-For-Glory.” Three days later, I got a call from an unknown number. “Is this Chloe Hayes? This is the director for the reality show ‘Glory Rush’.” I frowned. “You have the wrong number.” “No, I don’t,” the director said cheerfully. “The ACE team recommended you. We’d like to invite you to be their special guest star for the show. It’s a twenty-day shoot.” I nearly crushed my phone. “I’m not interested.” “Don’t be so quick to refuse,” he said. “We know you’re not a pro, so we’re offering a very generous appearance fee. Besides, ACE’s captain, Asher Vance, personally requested that you be invited.” …Asher Vance. Him again. I hung up and immediately called Leo. His voice on the other end was dripping with guilt. “Chloe…” “Leo,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “do you want to see your allowance this month?” “No, sis, please!” he begged. “It was the Captain’s idea! He said he really admired your… uh… gameplay and thought you had a lot of potential! He wants you to come on the show to learn from the pros.” “Our manager agreed, too! He said even though you played like garbage, you brought in huge numbers! That ‘Frying Pan Triple Team-Kill’ clip is trending on Twitter!” …I stared at the hashtag on my screen, took a deep breath. “Not going.” “Chloe! Please! I’ll give you my entire tournament bonus for the next three months! I’m begging you!” I hung up, opened my voice recorder app, and saved the last part of his plea. Then I sent him a text. “Send me the address.”

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My daughter was eight months old when I finally took some vacation time to visit my parents. My brother, Mike, picked me up from the airport. Back at home, Mom had made my favorite dinner, and Dad was busy hauling my suitcases upstairs. I was basking in the warm glow of a family reunion, the kind of happiness you can only find at home. Then Mike sidled up to me, rubbing his hands together nervously. “Hey, sis,” he started. “That round trip to the airport and back is over a hundred miles. An Uber would’ve cost you at least two hundred bucks.” He paused, then forged ahead. “But since you’re family, just Venmo me for gas and tolls. Let’s call it an even eighty.” 1 I couldn’t believe my ears. Was my own brother really charging me for a ride home? I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. “Mike, what are you talking about?” He shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable but doubling down on his logic. “Look, picking you up ate up my whole afternoon. I’m not making money, sure, but I can’t be losing money either, right? Business is business, even with family. Especially since you’re married now.” I hadn’t been back home since my daughter, Lily, was born. It wasn’t just the distance; traveling with a baby is a logistical nightmare of diapers, formula, and a million other things. But Mom had been crying on the phone. “I’ll have Mike come get you. Please, just come home for a few days. I miss you so much I can’t sleep.” I’d tried to get her to visit me instead, but she always had an excuse about the house needing her. So, I took the time off. Formula, diapers, a bottle warmer, a portable sterilizer… I packed three massive suitcases with Lily’s gear. On the drive home, I sat in the back with Lily, while Mike chattered on about old childhood memories. The long drive flew by, filled with laughter. When we pulled up, Mom and Dad were already waiting on the porch. Mom took Lily from my arms, but her eyes were fixed on me. “You’re so thin! Having a baby has worn you down to nothing.” Her own eyes welled up with tears. Dad, seeing us get emotional, turned away and started silently unloading the car. Mom wiped her eyes and pulled me towards the kitchen. “Look what I made! I got a fresh organic chicken from the farmer’s market just for you. The soup’s been simmering since noon. I’ll whip up a few more of your favorites, and we’ll have a real welcome-home dinner.” My own eyes grew misty. My heart felt warm and full. There’s no place like home. My childhood home would always be my home. No matter how old I got, I could always walk through that door and find people who loved and cherished me. 2 I was lost in this sweet, nostalgic daydream when Mike’s cold demand for gas money shattered it completely. What did being “married now” have to do with anything? Was I no longer my parents’ daughter, his sister? Was I not family anymore? My brow furrowed. “I’m married, Mike, not disowned. Do you charge Mom and Dad for rides?” He scoffed. “That’s different. They’re my immediate family. You’re married off, you belong to someone else’s family now. If you use our family’s resources, you’ve got to pay up.” I was shaking with anger. Before Lily was born, I used to drive myself home all the time. Every single visit, my car was loaded with gifts: wine for Dad, new kitchen gadgets for Mom, the latest video game for Mike. I never once asked him to chip in for the things I brought for him. And now, for one ride, he was demanding a price that was probably more than the actual cost. On what planet was that fair? “I’m not paying,” I said, my voice firm. Mike has a stubborn streak and a short fuse. My refusal instantly made his face darken. “Oh, you are paying. Today. You used my car, you pay the fee.” I let out a cold laugh. “Fine. First, you can pay me back the three thousand dollars I gave you. Then we’ll talk about your eighty-dollar fee.” The car he was driving? I’d paid for a third of it. The first year after I graduated and got a job, Dad had mentioned they were thinking of buying a car. It wasn’t convenient living in the suburbs without one. Just a trip to the grocery store was a twenty-minute walk each way. I remembered Mom coming home, her fingers red and indented from the heavy grocery bags. Without a second thought, I gave them all of my savings at the time. The car cost nine thousand dollars. I paid three, my parents paid three, and Mike paid three. Except Mike didn’t have the money, so he “borrowed” it from our parents. The car was supposed to be in Dad’s name, but somehow, the title ended up in Mike’s. I have no idea if he ever paid Mom and Dad back. “You have some nerve,” Mike sneered, “asking for that three grand back after all the money this family spent raising you.” He lifted the lid of the soup pot, pointing at the chicken. “This chicken cost twenty-five bucks. It was for you. You can pay for that, too.” I was about to explode. We were both their children. Why did Mike automatically assume that everything in this house belonged to him? I was about to let him have it when Mom pushed him out of the kitchen. “What is wrong with you? Asking your own sister for money? Get out!” She tore a big, juicy chicken leg from the bird and pressed it into my hand. “Sweetheart, don’t mind your brother. His freelance work has been slow, and he’s stressed. You just eat. I raised this chicken myself, he doesn’t get a say.” I lifted the chicken leg to my lips. Just then, Dad’s voice boomed from the other room. “What is all this? Why is every one of these suitcases filled with baby stuff?” 3 I put the chicken down and walked out of the kitchen. In the guest room, Dad had opened all three of my suitcases. Their contents were strewn across the floor. “Dad,” I asked, stunned, “what are you looking for?” He kicked at a can of formula with his foot, his face a mask of annoyance. “Three huge bags, and not a single thing for us! You’re a college-educated woman, for God’s sake. Don’t you know basic etiquette? Who shows up to their parents’ house empty-handed?” I stared at him in shock. I had never heard of bringing hostess gifts to your own home. The reason I used to show up with a car full of presents was because I loved them. I wanted to spoil them, to make them happy. I never knew they saw it as an obligation. So it wasn’t just Mike. My own father saw me as a visitor now. An outsider. I stood there, frozen, watching my mom kneel on the floor, frantically trying to tidy the mess. Dad grumbled something under his breath and stormed out of the house. When Mike heard I hadn’t brought gifts, he took the entire pot of chicken soup and carried it next door to our grandma’s house. “You show up with nothing and expect a free meal?” he called over his shoulder. “Have you no shame?” A hot rush of anger surged through me. I started stuffing all of Lily’s things back into the suitcases. I’d grab my daughter and leave. I had money; there were hotels in town. If this house didn’t want us, somewhere else would. Mom grabbed my arm, her voice choked with tears. “It’s getting dark, honey. How will you manage with the baby and three suitcases? Please, I’m begging you, just stay the night. Your father is a stubborn old man and your brother is being a jerk, just ignore them. I’ve waited so long to see you. Just stay with me, please?” My resolve softened. She was right. This was my home, too. Why should I let them chase me out? Not only was I going to stay, but I was going to demand the same treatment as my brother. I turned to her. “Mom, are there any more chickens? Because I’m still hungry.” “Yes, yes, of course.” 4 I marched out to the chicken coop in the backyard and caught the biggest rooster. With one swift, decisive motion, I did what I had to do. A few minutes of plucking and cleaning, and that big, plump bird was in the pressure cooker. When Dad and Mike came back, Mom and I were sitting at the kitchen table, happily chewing on chicken wings, our fingers slick with grease. “What… what did you do? You killed another chicken?” Mike stammered. I sucked the meat off a chicken foot. “What, you guys get to eat and we don’t?” Mike, furious, turned on Mom. “Mom, we only have a few chickens left! You killed two in one day! What am I supposed to eat later?” “What about me?” Mom looked straight at him, her voice quiet but firm. “When you took the soup I spent all afternoon making over to Grandma’s, did you think about me?” Mike was speechless. He mumbled for a moment before finally spitting out, “I was just so angry, I wasn’t thinking straight.” He wasn’t thinking straight, but he always forgot Mom. It was a pattern. The sad, funny thing was, Mom did more for this family than anyone, yet she was always the one who was overlooked. I remembered a business trip I took to New Orleans a few years ago. I shipped a box of beignets home. By the time Mom finished her chores, all that was left was a plate of powdered sugar. Dad and Mike were content and full, completely oblivious. Another time, Mike got his first paycheck from an internship. He bought himself new sneakers, a new electric razor for Dad, and a blood pressure monitor for Grandma. Mom watched as the shopping bag grew emptier, the hope in her eyes slowly fading to disappointment. His excuse then was the same. “Oh, man, I was just so excited, I totally forgot.” Mom’s love was like the air in our house. They breathed it in every day without a second thought, but they never felt the need to acknowledge its existence. I’m sure she was thinking about all that now. She didn’t say anything, just kept her head down and quietly chewed her chicken. Dad tried to needle us. “You’re lucky you live in modern times. Back in my day, a wife who ate like that would’ve been kicked out of the house.” Mom and I ignored him. He and Mike eventually gave up and left the kitchen. Mom put a chicken wing in my bowl. “Eat up, sweetheart. Tomorrow, I’ll make you my barbecue ribs.” 5 I absolutely loved my mom’s barbecue ribs. The next morning, while Lily and I were still asleep, Mom was already up and heading to the local market for fresh pork ribs. She came back with a huge rack, more than enough for all of us.

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My best friend was standing at the altar in a stunning white gown. Without a word, I stormed onto the stage and, in front of all her friends and family, slapped her. Twice. Hard. Her husband, her parents, her in-laws—not a single one of them moved to stop me. As she stared at me in stunned silence, I raised my hand again. She screamed in terror, “I’m calling the police!” Her husband grabbed her wrist. “You call them,” he warned, his voice like ice, “and this wedding is off.” 1. Before I laid a hand on her, I asked a very serious question. “Why did you choose a white dress?” My best friend, Rosalie, didn’t even hesitate. “What else is a bride supposed to wear?” A cold dread washed over me. I walked up to her and swung. A maid of honor striking the bride. It was unheard of. A wave of murmurs rippled through the guests. They were all trying to guess what kind of feud Rosalie and I had, what could possibly drive me to attack her on the most important day of her life. The sudden slap sent Rosalie stumbling back, dazed. She nearly fell. Her husband, Daniel Gray, stood right beside her, motionless. “Mia, are you out of your goddamn mind?!” Rosalie shrieked at me. “If you have a problem with me, just say it! Why would you just hit me out of nowhere?” “Are we not best friends anymore?” “We are,” I answered, my voice firm. Of that, I had no doubt. Rosalie cradled her already swelling cheek, her face a mask of wounded betrayal. “Then talk to me. I know you have a temper, but you can’t just hit people.” I fought to keep my own emotions in check. “You really don’t know why I did that?” She shook her head, bewildered. After a moment, she asked, “Did I do something to hurt you?” I let out a long, heavy sigh and beckoned her closer. “Come here. I’ll tell you.” The moment she stepped in front of me, smack! I hit her again. 2. The fragile peace shattered. This time, I put more force behind it. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of Rosalie’s mouth. Her shock curdled into pure rage. “Mia, are you sick? I gave you an inch, and you took a fucking mile! Hitting me not once, but twice!” What seemed to infuriate her even more was that her husband, the man who should have been defending her, remained silent. “Daniel, are you even a man? Your wife is being assaulted, and you don’t say a single word!” The guests below the stage started whispering again, their theories growing wilder. “I bet the maid of honor is sleeping with the groom. I heard the three of them grew up together.” “Maybe the bride stole him from her? That’s why she’s getting revenge on the wedding day.” “To be honest, she and the groom do look better together…” “Enough!” Rosalie roared, silencing the crowd. She turned back, squeezing out a few tears of pure frustration. Her accusing gaze swung between me and Daniel. “Mia, are you in love with my husband?” “And you,” she spat at Daniel, “are you still hung up on her?” Daniel’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t answer. I looked her straight in the eye. “I have zero interest in your husband. But I’m still going to hit you again.” Fear flashed in Rosalie’s eyes and she scrambled backward. “Mia, please,” she begged, “it’s my wedding day. The most important day of my life. Can we please just talk this out? Don’t hit me again.” I shook my head, my expression unyielding. “No.” Someone in the crowd couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing Rosalie weeping, a guest shouted, “Is this maid of honor just jealous? Ruining someone’s wedding like this! She calls herself a friend of twenty years? She acts more like an enemy.” A few of Rosalie’s college friends, unable to watch any longer, came up to intervene. “That’s enough. Whatever Rosalie did to make you this angry, you can’t do this to her today. Besides, assault is illegal.” “If you don’t stop, we’ll have you removed!” My own parents, their faces burning with embarrassment, hurried over and pulled me aside. “Mia, stop this nonsense!” my dad hissed. “We let you get away with arguing with Rosalie, but this is her wedding day! Don’t ruin this for her family!” My gaze fell back to her dress, and the hand I’d lowered started to rise again. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice heavy with sincerity. Then I lunged forward and grabbed Rosalie’s arm. She shrieked and tried to hide behind her parents. “Mom, Dad, help me! Get Mia out of here!” But to everyone’s shock, Mr. and Mrs. Lowe simply stepped aside, leaving Rosalie exposed. If my parents hadn’t rushed forward to drag me back, my third slap would have already landed. My father was shaking with anger. A man who always prized reason, he looked like he was about to strike me himself. “Have you lost all sense of decorum? Is this how I raised you?” My mother joined in, her voice full of disappointment. “Mia, this constant aggression is so ill-bred! If you dare hit Rosalie again today, I will disown you!” Rosalie collapsed onto the floor, sobbing hysterically, but her heart-wrenching cries didn’t move me an inch. The standoff was broken by an unlikely voice—Rosalie’s father. He turned to mine. “Calm down. I’m sure Mia has her reasons.” Rosalie’s mother defended me unconditionally, snapping at her daughter, “Stop making a scene on the floor! Mia didn’t mean it. She’s upset, so what if she hits you a few times?” Rosalie stomped her foot in frustration. “Dad! Mom! Whose side are you on? Who’s your real daughter?!” The bizarre exchange left everyone speechless. Some guests looked so confused they probably wondered if I was secretly the Lowes’ biological child. I looked at my parents, my heart aching. “Mom, Dad, even if you disown me, I have to land this third slap.” They stood there, helpless. They knew I wouldn’t back down once my mind was made up, and they couldn’t truly cut me out of their lives. Rosalie tried to fight back, but I was an athlete. She was no match for me. I rolled up my sleeves, ready to put everything I had into it. She clutched her stomach and screamed, “Don’t hit me again! I’m pregnant!” 3. “So?” My voice was unnervingly calm. Even the wedding officiant couldn’t stand by any longer and tried to pull me away. “Miss, you’ve gone too far. She’s pregnant! You can’t hit a pregnant woman, no matter what!” Rosalie nodded frantically, turning to Daniel’s parents. “Mom, Dad, get her out of here! I’m carrying the Gray family’s first grandchild!” Daniel’s parents, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke. His mother offered a placating smile. “Ms. Song, please, calm down. Whatever the issue is, I promise we will address it after the ceremony.” I let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “And what if I insist on hitting her right now? Does the Gray family dare to stop me?” His father’s expression hardened. “Ms. Song, what is the meaning of this?” “You stop me from hitting her, and I’m pulling the investment I promised the Gray Corporation.” Mr. and Mrs. Gray exchanged a look. Rosalie, feeling confident, jutted out her stomach. “I’m carrying the Gray family heir! My in-laws will never let you bully me!” To the entire room’s astonishment, Mr. Gray chuckled and gently pushed Rosalie forward. “Ms. Song, if you feel you must… then please, go ahead. Just don’t kill her.” A collective gasp filled the hall. What kind of man would sacrifice his pregnant daughter-in-law for a business deal? Especially when the Grays and the Lowes were both prominent, powerful families in the city. Rosalie’s eyes reddened as she pleaded with her mother-in-law, “Mom, you can’t let her hit me. What if something happens to the baby?” Mrs. Gray hesitated, glanced at her husband, and understood. She cooed at Rosalie, “Dear, if Ms. Song is upset, just let her get it out of her system. Once you’re officially part of the family, I’ll make it up to you.” Rosalie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Mom, how can you say that? I’m your daughter-in-law! When she hits me, she’s not just hitting me, she’s slapping the face of the entire Gray family!” “If you let this happen, I’ll be the laughingstock of the whole city!” Mrs. Gray was unmoved. “Getting pregnant before marriage was already disgraceful enough,” she sniffed. “Don’t waste any more time. Let Ms. Song finish so we can get on with the wedding.” She waved her hand, and two bodyguards stepped forward to hold Rosalie in place. Then, she turned to me with a fawning smile. “Ms. Song, please.” Daniel had long since stepped off the stage and was leaning against a far wall, acting as if none of this concerned him. In the world of the wealthy, love was a cheap commodity when set against profit. Rosalie stared at me, her eyes burning with hatred. “Mia Song, you hit me one more time, and I swear I will make you pay for this!” I pinched her chin, carefully angling her face. “Good,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ll be waiting.” But she was scared. She could see it in my eyes. This last slap was going to hurt. “I’m calling the police!” she shrieked, her voice raw with fear. “Someone, help me call the police!” Instantly, guests in the audience pulled out their phones. Daniel, who had been a statue this whole time, finally moved. He strode onto the stage and snatched the microphone from the officiant. “Nobody calls the police!” At his command, his security team moved swiftly through the crowd, confiscating phones. The guests looked on, utterly baffled. Daniel had been perfectly content to watch his bride get beaten, but the moment she mentioned the police, he sprang into action. The whispers started again. “Is there really something going on between him and the Song heiress? He’s protecting her instead of his own wife and child.” Rosalie stared from me to Daniel, her face a canvas of horror. “Daniel! Are you actually cheating on me with Mia?” He didn’t confirm or deny it. She began pounding on his chest. “How could you do this to me? I’m carrying your child!” He grabbed her wrists and shoved her away. “That’s enough.” “Daniel Gray, you ungrateful bastard!” she screamed, utterly hysterical. I watched her meltdown, but my resolve to deliver that final slap never wavered. Rosalie wiped the tears from her face, her expression hardening into a vicious threat aimed at Daniel. “And what if I insist on calling them?” A flicker of something like relief crossed Daniel’s face. He gave a careless shrug. “You call them, we get a divorce.” Rosalie froze, clearly not expecting him to be so casual about ending their marriage. “You’d divorce me over a phone call? Daniel, do you even have a conscience?” His face was a mask of indifference. “You call the police, I file for divorce.” “Rosalie, don’t,” Mrs. Gray pleaded, grabbing her arm. “This was just about a slap. Don’t let it escalate to a divorce. It’s not worth it.” Even I was curious. How far would Daniel go? Would he really divorce the woman he’d been with for ten years—a woman everyone knew he doted on—just to stop her from calling the police? His behavior today had shattered everyone’s image of their perfect love story. I couldn’t understand it. If he cared so little for her, why marry her at all? But I had a feeling I was about to find out. Faced with Daniel’s ultimatum, Rosalie’s heart broke. Everyone assumed the wedding was over. Suddenly, she spun around and shoved me to the ground. Blinded by rage, she was a different person from the gentle girl I knew. She blamed me for everything. “Mia, are you happy now that you’ve ruined my life? None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you! Now Daniel wants to divorce me! Are you really this cruel?” Was I? I was risking a lifelong friendship, the relationship between our families, and my own reputation. Everyone was confused, but Rosalie… she couldn’t possibly be blind to my motives. “The reason for this third slap,” I said, my voice ringing with authority. “After I’m done, I’ll tell you everything.” Rosalie tilted her face up, a look of grim acceptance in her eyes, and waited for the blow. But I didn’t strike immediately. She trembled. “What are you waiting for? Why don’t you just do it?” And then I said something that shocked everyone. “Weren’t you going to call the police? I’m waiting for you to do it.” My complete lack of fear finally pushed her over the edge. “Mia, do you think you can humiliate me like this just because your family is more powerful than mine?” “Fine! I’ll call them right now! Let’s see how arrogant you are when the police get here!” Just as she was about to dial, Daniel snatched the phone and smashed it on the floor. His raw, furious roar was deafening. “I told you! No police!” “Do you think I’m joking?” Daniel had his assistant produce a set of divorce papers. “You make that call today, and we’re going straight to the courthouse.” Tears streamed down Rosalie’s face. She was completely torn. Calmly, I pulled out my own phone. “If you won’t call them, I will.” The entire room gasped. What was this? I was calling the police on myself.

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The night before the university applications were due, the senior class group chat exploded. “Holy shit! Teri, why did you switch your application to the UK? I thought you and Ava were set on Paris!” Teri’s reply was casual, almost lazy. “I switched. So what? She has my login info anyway.” He followed it up with a smirk I could feel through the screen. “She’ll see I changed it, and she’ll follow me. That little shadow can’t live without me.” I stared at my phone, my mind a complete blank. My half-packed suitcase lay open on the floor, the gift I’d painstakingly chosen for him sitting right on top. I left the group chat, tossed the gift into the trash, and never looked at the application portal again. He had no idea. He could throw away our future for Rachel, but I could throw him away to secure my own. All those sleepless nights, all that grinding—it was never just for him. 1 Teri’s words were like shards of glass in my heart. Paris. We’d worked our asses off for twelve years, dreaming of that specific university. It was our sacred goal. And now, he’d changed it. Just like that. Without even bothering to tell me to my face. Someone in the chat asked him, “What if Ava doesn’t see it? The portal closes tomorrow at midnight.” Teri’s reply was laced with mockery. “Since the portal opened, Ava’s been checking it every ten minutes. She’s more obsessed than my own mother. There’s no way she’ll miss it. Ugh, you guys wouldn’t get it.” The chat filled with sycophantic replies, all variations of “Teri, you’re the man!” Then, another voice piped up. “But what if she doesn’t change it? That school in Paris is a way better fit for her program.” Teri paused for a few seconds before answering, his tone turning icy. “Bullshit.” “Ava has major separation anxiety. I was gone for one day last year, and she dropped everything to come find me. This is three years. You think she can handle three years without seeing me?” “To her, I’m more important than any school. She’ll choose me. She always does.” A heavy silence fell over the chat. After a long moment, someone tentatively typed, “Teri, isn’t that a little rough on Ava? We all saw how hard she worked for this.” “You should at least give her a heads-up.” Teri sent a single, dismissive message. “Tsk.” It took him a while to type again. “It’s a pain in the ass. I don’t want to deal with it.” “You guys know how she gets. If she finds out I did it for Rachel, she’ll cry, and it’ll give me a headache.” “It’s just easier this way. Less drama for me.” The chat immediately sprang back to life. “Yeah, that makes sense. Ava’s great, but she’s no Rachel.” “Damn, Teri, you’ve got it made.” … The banter, the casual cruelty of it all, felt like a physical weight crushing me. I wanted to call him, to scream, to demand an explanation. But my fingers wouldn’t move. In the end, I just threw myself into bed, my body numb, and stared at the ceiling as my thoughts began to unravel. How could a person change so completely? When we were drowning in French lessons, crying from exhaustion, neither of us ever considered giving up. Every time we felt like we couldn’t go on, we’d pull up a picture of the Eiffel Tower and crack jokes to keep each other going. The day our acceptance letters arrived, we cried and laughed at the same time, feeling like all our struggles were finally about to pay off. Our perfect ending was right there, within reach. And he just… let go of my hand and ran toward someone else. Honestly, I wouldn’t have even been angry if he’d just told me he wanted to change plans. But why wouldn’t he just tell me? Did he see me as that pathetic? That insignificant? If I was such a nuisance to him, then what were his promises from that night, when he held me under the stars and whispered about marrying me? Was the night just too dark, the lights too dim for him to see who he was talking to? I curled into a ball, pulling the blankets over my head, and let myself break down in the darkness. The truth is, I’m not the one who can’t live without him. I don’t have separation anxiety. He does. Ever since we were kids, if we ended up in different schools or even different classes, he’d get moody and withdrawn for no reason. The only thing that would snap him out of it was seeing me. So, I just made it a habit. I followed my own path, my own ambitions, and I made sure to drag him along with me. Teri wasn’t wrong about one thing: I had always woven him into the fabric of my future. When it didn’t compromise my dreams, I was happy to pay the price for my heart. But that didn’t mean my love had no limits. I closed the application portal I’d accidentally opened and wiped the tears from my face. I didn’t open it again. He made his choice. I was making mine. From now on, we would go our separate ways. I had just splashed my face with cold water when a video call from Teri popped up on my phone. “Little shadow, pick up! I wanna see you!” When I didn’t answer, he tried again. And again. Finally, a text came through. “We’re all at the old spot. Get over here. Take a cab.” But I didn’t want to go. “Tired. Not feeling it.” The reply was instant. “Are you sick? I’m coming over.” “No. Don’t.” I’d just hit send when a notification from Rachel appeared. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I begged Teri to come out with us. I didn’t know you’d be upset. I’ll leave right now.” “As long as you come, it doesn’t matter what happens to me.” My phone suddenly felt like it was radiating a sickly-sweet, poison-laced perfume. Before I could even think of a reply, someone started tagging me furiously in a smaller group chat. “Ava, what the hell is your problem? Can’t stand to see Teri with anyone else? Your jealousy is getting old.” “Just because Rachel’s prettier than you doesn’t mean you get to throw a tantrum. You’re pathetic.” I froze, my first instinct to defend myself. But then a message from Teri himself flashed on my screen. “Ava, I invited Rachel. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Why are you making things hard for her?” “You know what? Don’t bother coming. We’ll have more fun without you anyway.” A second later, they sent a picture of a table laden with food. Someone added a snarky comment. “Food tastes so much better without all the bitterness.” A bunch of psychos. I left the group chat, then deleted and blocked Teri’s number. A clean sweep. He’d always been my pinned contact, no matter how much we fought. Now, he belonged in the block list. When Rachel first transferred to our school, she was my friend. Back then, Teri even warned me about her. He said she seemed shady and that I should keep my distance. I actually tried to get them to like each other. Then came the freshman orientation party. Rachel took off her nerdy, black-framed glasses, and she was wearing this stunning red dress. She took everyone’s breath away. After that night, Teri never told me to stay away from her again. He and Rachel got closer. He introduced her to all his friends, our friends. Before I knew it, my circle had become her circle. Teri was different with Rachel. Special. We had a massive fight about it once. We didn’t speak for three months. I told him, “If you like her, I’ll step aside.” But Teri cried. He swore to me. “You’re the only one who matters to me.” “Rachel has depression, Ava. Her dad left. I just feel sorry for her, I’m trying to help.” And I believed him. But Teri was playing me for a fool. Their “friendship” became their excuse for everything, a flimsy cover for something more. And now, this. He changed his entire future for her. And I was the idiot who got left behind. By the time I snapped out of it, the sky was dark. My mom had come home at some point and was smiling at me. “Fighting with Teri again? You blocked his number, sweetie.” “He wants you to add him back.” I mumbled a noncommittal answer and headed out the door. My academic advisor had called a last-minute meeting to confirm our final applications. When I got there, the seat next to Teri was empty. That was usually my seat. But Rachel was sitting there now. Teri didn’t say anything, just casually took the bag she handed him. His eyes, however, kept flicking in my direction. He was waiting for me to back down. He was in for a surprise. I turned and sat down next to Ethan, the campus heartthrob, far away from them. “Everyone, double-check your applications! The portal closes for good tonight. No regrets, no do-overs!” our advisor boomed from the front of the room. Suddenly, Ethan glanced at my application form. “That’s a coincidence. I’m going to Paris, too.” Before I could reply, a hand tapped my shoulder. “Ava. Don’t you have something to say?” I ignored him, turning back to Ethan. But Teri grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. “Ava, what is your problem?” he hissed. “Throwing a little tantrum is one thing, but blocking me? Seriously?” “I’m warning you. Unblock me right now. If you don’t, you’ll never get the chance to add me back again.” I was forced to stare at him for a few seconds. “Okay. Wasn’t planning on it anyway.” The color drained from Teri’s face. “Fine. Don’t come crying to me later!” I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm again, his eyes suddenly serious. “The deadline is close. Check your application again, carefully. Make sure you didn’t make any mistakes…” He was about to say more, but Rachel appeared at his side, cutting him off. “Teri, I don’t really get this part. Can you help me look it over?” “Sure, let me see.” Teri immediately bent his head to look at Rachel’s form. I let out a bitter laugh and walked away. By the time he looked up to say something else, I was already back in the classroom. “Ava! Remember to check it again! Check it carefully!” he called after me. Right. As if his words were gospel. He probably thought I’d do what he said, see that he’d switched his application, and immediately switch mine to follow him. What a joke. He wouldn’t tell me the truth, so I would just pretend I didn’t know. He thought “dealing with me” was a hassle; well, I thought explaining myself to him was an even bigger one. Thank God I finally saw things clearly for once. Back in the classroom, Ethan noticed my foul mood and insisted on dragging me out to a campus concert to cheer me up. As we were leaving, we ran into a stone-faced Teri. He glared at Ethan, his expression thunderous. I knew what he was thinking. But I didn’t feel like explaining. I treated him like he was thin air. As we rounded a corner in the hallway, I ran into him and his friends again. “Dude, just tell her already,” one of them was saying. “The UK isn’t exactly next door to France. Are you really okay with Ava going all by herself?” Teri snorted. “What do I care what she does?” “Besides,” he added, “she’s definitely already changed it. She’s just throwing a fit to get my attention. She’s so damn clingy. I can’t get rid of her.” I froze, and we came face-to-face. Teri told the others to go on ahead, then backed me into a corner. “Going to a concert with him instead of me? You’re getting bold, little shadow.” “You think this little act is going to get to me?” He grabbed my hand, his voice low and lazy. “Fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you the other day. Can we be done with this now?” “Did you check your application?” he asked. Then, he hesitated. “Did you, uh, check mine for me, too?” I said nothing. The silence stretched, thick and awkward. Just as the tension was about to break, Rachel walked up. “Teri! They’re all picking on me! You have to help me!” she whined. Then, as if just noticing me, her tone shifted to one of surprise. “Oh! Ava, you’re here too! You didn’t see my story and follow us here, did you?” “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she rushed on. “I just love a good crowd, so I asked Teri to come. I’ve been a fan of this band forever.” There it was again. That cloying, manipulative sweetness. I was done playing her games. While Teri was distracted, I slipped past him. I was about to make a run for it when Rachel physically blocked my path. “I’m sorry, Ava. Is my being here making you uncomfortable?” “I’ll leave. I just don’t want you and Teri to fight. He’s been in such a bad mood because of you lately, and it breaks my heart.” “I’d do anything to make him happy.” With that, her eyes welled up, and she made a show of bowing deeply to me. “What are you doing? Rachel, get up!” Teri shoved me aside and wrapped his arms protectively around her. “Ava, can you just stop freaking out every time you see Rachel?” “We’re going to be spending the next three years together. Can’t you be less petty?” I stared at him, the absurdity of it all making me want to laugh. “You think this is how normal friends act?” He flinched, then sneered. “So, the act is finally over?” “Weren’t you the one who said she was pitiful and that we should take care of her? What’s with the jealousy now?” I looked at his face, a face I’d known for over a decade, and felt like I was seeing a stranger. “If you want to take care of her so badly, why don’t you just marry her!” I spun around and walked away, ignoring Teri’s furious roar behind me. “If you walk away now, don’t ever come back!” I didn’t even turn around. When I got home and sat down, I saw Rachel had posted a new story. They were playing Truth or Dare. She’d been dared to kiss someone in the group. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on Teri, but he didn’t move. “Teri… you’re the one I know best here.” “Whoa, Rachel, what are we, chopped liver?” one of his friends joked. “You don’t know us?” As the catcalls and whistles grew louder, Rachel’s face turned beet red. She stammered an explanation, tears welling in her eyes as Teri remained motionless. “If Teri doesn’t want to, I’ll just take the penalty drink.” She closed her eyes and reached for a glass. Suddenly, a hand shot out and stopped her. “You’re allergic to alcohol. Are you trying to kill yourself?” Teri’s voice was low. “Well, what else am I supposed to do? I have to finish the dare.” Looking at Rachel’s tear-streaked face, Teri lifted her chin. “You couldn’t have picked someone else?” “No.” Fighting through her embarrassment, Rachel grabbed the collar of Teri’s shirt, stood on her tiptoes, and tentatively pressed her lips to his. This time, Teri didn’t pull away. He wrapped a hand around her waist and deepened the kiss. “TERI, YOU’RE THE MAN!” The cheering and laughter around them swelled, but my heart felt like it had been dropped into a deep fryer, sizzling with a white-hot pain. Even though I’d told myself I didn’t care anymore, seeing that still hurt. A decade of feelings doesn’t just disappear; ripping it out is always going to be agony. At 11:50 PM, a small pebble hit my bedroom window. It was our signal. For a split second, I wished I had amnesia. I leaned out and saw him standing below, the same Teri who had been wrapped around Rachel just hours before. His voice was slurring, pleading. “Ava… stop being angry, okay? Please… just change the application…” “The UK… it’s great… I’ll… I’ll take you to see Big Ben…”

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1 The company retreat was supposed to end with a fireworks display, but my fiancée’s pet assistant, Chad, decided to provide his own. There, under the cascading explosions of light, he dropped to one knee. He held out a diamond ring. “Willow,” he declared for all to hear, “marry me.” He was proposing to my fiancée, right in front of me. My colleagues shot me a fleeting glance, a flicker of pity, before turning back to the main event, instantly erasing me from the scene. “Say yes! Say yes!” they chanted. As I walked toward them, Chad shot me a venomous, triumphant smirk. “You’re not married yet,” he sneered. “Trash like you doesn’t deserve her.” I kept my eyes fixed on Willow. “He’s right, we’re not married. That means you have a choice to make. Me, or him.” “And why the hell would she choose you?” Chad’s voice dripped with arrogance. “Because you’re a high school dropout? Or because you’re nothing more than a glorified guard dog?” A wave of sycophantic laughter rippled through the crowd. “Choose you?” one colleague jeered. “You should take a good look in the mirror. If it weren’t for Ms. Donovan, you wouldn’t even have a job as a security guard.” “Exactly,” another chimed in, eager to curry favor with Chad. “He gets a pity job as head of security and has the gall to ask who she’ll choose.” I said nothing more. I just waited for Willow’s answer. Our engagement wasn’t born from passion. It was a promise I made to her grandfather. He’d asked for three years, a trial period for us to cultivate feelings. If we found love, we’d marry. But in three years, I hadn’t managed to thaw the ice around her heart. Willow didn’t need words. Her actions spoke for her. She extended her hand to Chad. He slid the ring onto her finger, pulled her into a deep kiss, and the world—including me—ceased to exist for them. I watched them, a strange calm settling over me. They held the kiss for an unnaturally long time, as if they wanted to be sure I was thoroughly disgusted. For three years, Willow had relentlessly tested my limits, maintaining zero boundaries with other men. I’d grown used to it. Numb to it. When they finally broke apart, Chad looked at me, his lip curled. “Are you still here? Get lost, unless you’re waiting for an invitation to the wedding.” I walked up to Willow, unclasped the watch on my wrist, and held it out to her. “This was your engagement gift to me. I’d like mine back, please.” Three years ago, at her grandfather’s insistence, we had exchanged watches. A symbol of loyalty and devotion to the time we would share. “Ugh, I don’t want anything you’ve touched,” Chad snapped, slapping my hand away. “Deal with it yourself.” He then turned to Willow. “As for the watch she wore… you have no right to it.” Willow understood immediately. She opened her purse and pulled out the watch I’d given her, handing it to Chad. She only ever wore it when visiting her grandfather; the rest of the time, it lived in her bag. With a dramatic flourish, Chad hurled my watch into the nearby lake. “You really want this piece of junk back? You’ll be a clown your whole life, nothing more.” My gaze sharpened. “I suggest you go fish that out of the water right now,” I said, my voice low and even. “And you’d better pray it’s not damaged. Because if it is, you couldn’t afford to pay me back if you sold your own soul.” “A cheap replica, and you’re acting like you’re the mysterious billionaire who bought the real thing at auction?” Chad scoffed. “You want to know why Willow never liked you? Because you gave her a fake. A tacky, worthless fake.” He was on a roll now, playing to the crowd. “If it were just some generic knock-off, fine. But you had to buy a replica of the Timeless Vow, the one-of-a-kind watch that sold for twenty-five million dollars! Do you have any idea how much people laughed at her behind her back?” “That’s because none of you know what you’re looking at,” I stated flatly. “That watch is the one I bought for twenty-five million. Now, I suggest you get it out of the lake.” “Did you hear that?” Chad howled with laughter, turning to his audience. “This guy, who’s only head of security because our CEO took pity on him, just said he spent twenty-five million on a watch!” The crowd erupted again. Willow finally spoke, her tone dripping with condescension. “Mason, I know you have feelings for me, but you can’t force love. I don’t know how you convinced my grandfather to agree to this engagement, but arranged marriages are a thing of the past.” She looked me up and down. “I was never interested in you. The man for Willow Donovan could never be someone as painfully ordinary as you. Now, please leave. Don’t embarrass yourself further.” “Willow, let me clarify a few things for you,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. “First, it was your grandfather who begged me to get engaged to you. Second, I genuinely tried to build something with you. But for three years, you ignored every effort I made. A relationship is a two-way street. You never made it into my heart, either. I don’t love you. I was simply honoring a promise I made to an old man.” “Your ‘effort’?” she sneered. “You mean sucking up to my grandpa? Helping him in his garden, playing chess with him, all so he’d emotionally blackmail me into this farce?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Fine, whatever. You ‘made an effort.’ You didn’t love me. Happy now? Just go.” If it weren’t for the watch, I would have already been gone. “You and Chad are together now. This isn’t about our feelings anymore,” I said, turning my attention to him. “This is about you throwing my property into a lake. I will have it appraised, and you will compensate me for any and all damages.” “Are you kidding me?” Chad’s face darkened. “You’re wearing clothes that cost less than fifty bucks combined, and you’re trying to shake me down for money?” He puffed out his chest. “You said you bought a twenty-five-million-dollar watch, right? Fine. Show me a receipt. Show me any proof of purchase. You do that, and I won’t just pay you twenty-five million. I’ll pay you fifty.” He paused, a cruel glint in his eye. “But let’s be clear. If you can’t produce that proof…” He picked up a paper cup, filled it halfway with champagne, and then deliberately spat a thick glob of phlegm into it. He passed the cup around, inviting the other snickering colleagues to do the same. Soon, the cup was full. He held it out, his eyes locked on mine. “If you can’t prove that watch is real, you drink this. Every last drop. Do we have a deal?” “Deal,” I said, pulling out my phone. The sight of Willow and Chad together didn’t stir a thing in me. But that watch… that watch was different. It held a significance they could never comprehend. I’d paid a fortune for it at auction for a reason—for a person. And it was that same person who had asked me to give it to Willow. Now that this arrangement was over, I was taking it back. If Chad had damaged it, he would pay. As I made the call, Chad continued his performance. “Look at him, putting on a show! Who do you think he’s calling? He probably didn’t even dial a number.” “Hey, Chad,” one of his cronies yelled. “You should probably put a time limit on it, or that cocktail’s gonna ferment!” After I hung up, Chad swaggered over. “So, when are your people getting here?” “An hour, tops.” “I’ll give you two,” he declared magnanimously. “Two hours. If your ‘proof’ isn’t here by then, you drink the cup. Deal?” “Deal,” I agreed without hesitation. “And if the receipts are all in order, you pay for the damages in full.” “Don’t worry,” he sneered. “If you have a receipt, I’ll pay you for ten of them.” For the next while, Chad, Willow, and their pack of followers played party games, pointedly excluding me. Chad even made a grand announcement that once the two hours were up, not only would I drink the cup, but I would also be fired. Then, a low thrumming sound began to fill the air. I checked my watch. It had only been forty minutes since my call. I looked up, my eyes finding the helicopter as it sliced through the night sky, rapidly approaching. Everyone else saw it too. It descended with a deafening roar, landing on a nearby clearing and drawing the attention of everyone at the retreat. “Now that’s real money,” a colleague whispered in awe. “Arriving by helicopter.” When the passenger door opened and a man stepped out, Chad’s eyes lit up. “Willow, look! It’s Chairman Sterling, from the Eternity Group! I can’t believe he’s here. This is a golden opportunity.” Willow straightened her dress, her confidence radiating. “Just watch. Once I introduce myself, even a man like him will be charmed. He’ll be a valuable friend.” Timeless Legacy, Legendary Craft. The Eternity Group was a centennial institution, a titan in the world of luxury watchmaking, revered globally. The watch now sitting at the bottom of the lake was one of their bespoke creations. Willow’s family company, Elysian Beauty, had seen a meteoric rise. In just three years, it had gone from a startup to a publicly-traded company—a legend in its own right. What she didn’t know was that its success was fueled by the anonymous formulas and covert support I had provided. But next to the Eternity Group, Elysian Beauty was a minnow. Naturally, she was eager to network with a titan like Sterling. Being at the same retreat was fate, she thought. She and Chad walked toward him, Willow’s posture perfect, her gait exuding the unshakeable confidence of someone who had never known failure. In her world, at galas and functions, no one ever refused her. She believed that if Sterling had been based in Bayview City, they would have been friends long ago. All the powerful figures she once admired were now in her circle, ready to grant any request. She was certain this would be no different. “Mr. Sterling, what a pleasure,” Willow said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “I’m Willow Donovan, CEO of Elysian Beauty.” Chairman Sterling took her hand in both of his. “Ms. Donovan, the pleasure is all mine! I’ve heard so much about the legendary CEO from Bayview. I’ve been meaning to pay you a visit, but a long illness has kept me away. To meet you here… it feels like destiny.” His deference was palpable, exactly like all the other powerful men she’d charmed. The colleagues watching were stunned. They knew Willow was a legend, but to see the great Chairman Sterling treat her with such reverence was mind-boggling. Willow’s smile widened. She introduced Chad, making a point to say, “Mr. Sterling, this is my fiancé, Chad Foster.” At the word “fiancé,” Sterling’s expression flickered. When Chad extended his hand, the chairman’s warmth vanished. He gave it a perfunctory shake, his eyes darting toward me with a look of utter confusion. “Ah, I see you’ve heard about the situation with Mason,” Chad said smoothly, misinterpreting the look. “That’s all in the past now.” “Actually,” Chad continued, a malicious idea taking shape, “speaking of the past, Mr. Sterling, if I recall correctly, your company’s masterpiece, the Timeless Vow, sold for a staggering twenty-five million dollars.” He pointed a thumb at me. “This guy, Mason, bought a cheap replica of it for Willow. A few minutes ago, I threw that piece of trash in the lake, and now he’s demanding I pay him twenty-five million for it.” He smirked. “He even pretended to call your company, asking for receipts and proof of purchase to be delivered.” Chad looked Sterling right in the eye. “I’m sure you know the person who actually bought the Timeless Vow. Tell me, Mr. Sterling… was it Mason Hill?” He turned his smug, expectant gaze back to me.

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