My five-dollar Uber Pool pulled up, and it was a Rolls-Royce. The girl next to me on the curb tilted her head, her smile bright and breezy. “Oh my god, so random! This is my boyfriend’s car.” Before I could respond, the man getting out of the driver’s seat stole my breath. He was immaculate in a tailored suit, his aura cool and commanding. He gently helped the girl into the passenger seat with a tenderness that made my stomach clench. Then, the man’s assistant, who had been trailing him, caught my eye. He looked terrified. “Ma’am…” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. “Where… where are you headed?” I waved a dismissive hand, swallowing the words that were on the tip of my tongue: *“To the hospital, for my prenatal appointment.”* When I finally spoke, I could hear the slight tremble in my own voice. “The airport. Just take me to JFK.” * 1 My voice was so soft, I wasn’t sure anyone heard it. In the front seat, the girl was already gushing, pulling on the driver’s hand. “See? This is much better. I told you not to make a special trip just for me. Wasting gas is just silly, and besides, five bucks is enough for a coffee from a street cart. Plus—” She spun around in her seat, grinning at me. “I bet you’ve never been in a car like this before, right? It’s like a little peek into how the other half lives, lol.” I managed a weak smile, my eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, on him. On Ethan. His handsome features were as composed as ever, his expression unreadable. He gave a noncommittal “Mm,” his long, elegant fingers scrolling through something on his phone. He looked like a man closing a multi-million-dollar deal. Meanwhile, my own phone screen was lighting up with a series of texts from him. *Summer is very innocent. Don’t scare her.* *Don’t worry. This doesn’t change your position as Mrs. Vance. And because of that, I don’t want the family knowing about Summer’s existence.* *Your parents’ company is still dependent on my family’s backing. You’re not going to do anything irrational, are you, Lila?* I turned the screen off. Snapped my phone shut. When I looked up, my eyes met Ethan’s in the mirror. He was calm, tapping a rhythmic, impatient beat on the steering wheel with his perfectly manicured fingers. His voice, when he spoke, was cold as ice. “The passenger in the back, please fasten your seatbelt.” I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the pink, glittery sticker on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat. ♡ Summer’s Seat ♡ I let the bitter tide of acid rise in my throat, threatening to drown me. A few minutes later, my composure returned. I bought a one-way ticket to Fiji. 2 The entire way, Summer chattered on about her day at the office. When she got excited, she’d slap Ethan’s arm playfully. And Ethan, my cold, distant husband, didn’t flinch. He didn’t show a single ounce of impatience. In fact, the corner of his mouth was turned up in a faint, amused smile. I watched them like a ghost, an outsider in my own life. I couldn’t help but remember that with me, Ethan was always all business. Even planning our wedding felt like negotiating a corporate merger. We weren’t a husband and wife; we were two parties in a contract. Except… in bed. There, he became a different person. A predator. He would pin me down with hungry eyes, taking everything from me with a ferocity that was both terrifying and addictive. “Hey, you want a chip?” Summer’s sweet voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked at her young, flawless face. The word *mistress* was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it. “No, thank you.” “Oh, okay,” she said, then turned to offer the bag to Ethan. Realizing he was driving, she did something else. She put a potato chip between her own lips and leaned over, offering it to him. Ethan’s eyes flickered to the rearview mirror for a fraction of a second. His knuckles went white on the steering wheel. But he couldn’t resist her. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He leaned in and gently took the other half of the chip from her mouth with his own. I whipped my head around to stare out the window. I could hear Summer giggling, a little embarrassed. “Hehe, don’t mind us. We’re still in the honeymoon phase. Honestly, I didn’t even want to date before I was twenty-five, but he’s just… so good to me. He’s always secretly looking out for me at work so I don’t get bullied, and he comes whenever I call. It’s almost embarrassing. Today, for instance, I just had some bad period cramps, and he got so worried he dropped a huge meeting just to take me to the doctor…” “That’s nice,” I interrupted, my voice flat. “Hope you two live happily ever after.” Fighting back the wave of nausea and grief, I grabbed my phone and my purse. “I’m getting out here.” Summer looked surprised. “But you’re not at the hospital yet. I thought you were going to the same place as me?” I forced a smile. “Change of plans. My boyfriend just texted. He’s picking me up here.” 3 I didn’t expect him to follow me. Ethan got out of the car, towering over me on the sidewalk. “What was that about?” he demanded, his voice a low growl. I was genuinely confused. “What?” “‘Happily ever after.’ What the hell did you mean by that?” He glanced around, then grabbed my wrist, his face a mask of fury. “You know my parents will only ever accept you as their daughter-in-law. Are you saying that to mess with me?” I struggled, but his grip was like iron. His anger escalated. “Lila, this ‘boyfriend’ of yours is a lie, isn’t it? Because if there really is some other guy—” “You know what I’m capable of.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What does it have to do with you? The first time we met, you said this was all for show, that we would lead separate lives…” “That was different.” Ethan was vibrating with a barely controlled rage. He looked like a caged animal. “Your family’s company was on the verge of collapse. You exist to serve a purpose in this transaction, and that means absolute obedience to me.” He sneered. “Or what, are you lonely? Do you need me to come home and take care of your needs?” As he spoke, his hand slid to my waist and he leaned in, his face just inches from mine— “What are you two doing?!” Summer was standing there, her eyes wide and red with tears. “You… you two…” She covered her mouth, her horrified gaze fixed on Ethan’s hand on my waist. The next second, she lunged. Her hand connected with my cheek in a stinging slap. 4 She looked so small and delicate, but the force of the blow sent me stumbling back. I instinctively clutched my stomach. “You are so shameless!” Summer shrieked, tears streaming down her face as she pointed a trembling finger at me. “No wonder you were being so weird and sarcastic in the car! You were trying to get with my boyfriend!” She was shaking with rage, planting herself in front of Ethan like a tiny bodyguard. “Just because you’re pretty, you think you can just seduce other people’s boyfriends? What are you, a public bus? You’re disgusting!” A moment ago, I had felt a sliver of pity for her. She was a victim in this too, kept in the dark. But now, seeing her witness Ethan’s aggression and still direct all her fury at me, something inside me turned to ice. My face went cold. “Did you know,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “that your precious boyfriend is already married? “I’m his—” While she was still processing, I stepped forward and raised my hand to return the favor. But Ethan caught my wrist. He rubbed his temples, his voice laced with pure exasperation. “Enough! Look at yourself, Lila. Is this how the wife of a Vance is supposed to behave?” In that single, crystal-clear moment, the years of desperate, suffocating love I had felt for Ethan Vance vanished. It just… evaporated. 5 Summer was only stunned for a moment. She didn’t have the breakdown I expected. She just gently tugged on Ethan’s sleeve, her voice a pathetic whimper. “Is it her? Is she the one?” “You told me… you said it was just a family arrangement… that you hated your wife… you said you never even talk to her…” Her big, watery eyes looked up at Ethan, pleading for reassurance. But Ethan wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed on my face, which I knew was rapidly losing its color. He looked… uneasy. After a long pause, he sighed, patting Summer’s arm dismissively. “The hospital is about a mile from here. I’ll call you a car.” Without another glance at her, he turned and grabbed my arm. “We’re going home,” he said coldly. “There’s a family dinner tonight.” I didn’t move. Ethan’s eyes flickered to the red mark on my cheek. He started to raise his hand, as if to touch it, then let it drop. He turned away, throwing the words over his shoulder. “Twenty million in venture capital for your parents’ company.” “It’s your choice.” I watched his tall, imposing figure walk away, and a profound sense of exhaustion washed over me. All those years of loving him, even marrying him… what had it gotten me? I bit my lip until I tasted blood. And I followed him. But as I walked, a new thought took root in my mind: *If I ran, would my parents ever forgive me?* 6 In the car, I didn’t try to fill the silence like I used to, desperately searching for topics to engage him. I just sat quietly in the back seat. I sent a text to an old college friend: *Something came up, can’t make it today. So sorry to waste your time.* He was a doctor and must have been busy. It was half an hour before he replied. *No problem. If it’s hard for you to get out, I can always make a house call.* I suddenly remembered Ethan’s snarling face, hissing about a “mystery man.” A shiver went down my spine. I quickly typed back: *No rush! We’ll reschedule soon.* After getting his reply, I turned off my phone and followed Ethan into the family mansion. I don’t know why, but my newfound silence seemed to annoy him more than my old clinginess. I thought about it. I probably ruined his day with Summer. For the first time ever, I tried to be the understanding wife. “It’s okay,” I said, my voice neutral. “You can find an excuse to leave early tonight.” I didn’t look at his stunned expression. I was too busy looking at my plane ticket on my phone and booking a hotel. “After all,” I added, “you’re the expert at soothing upset girls. A few flowers and a designer handbag should do the trick.” Ethan looked like he wanted to say something, but he just clenched his jaw. His face was thunderous. Finally, he let out a cold, humorless laugh. “What’s this? A new strategy?” “Let me guess. You encourage me to go see Summer, then you have a PI follow me, and then you cry to the whole family about what a terrible husband I am?” “How utterly predictable.” I blinked. Then I smiled a real, genuine smile. He wasn’t wrong. That was exactly the kind of desperate, crazy thing I would have done a week ago to try and keep him. But not anymore. I could only imagine how happy he’d be when he finally realized I was gone for good. 7 At dinner, my parents and Ethan’s parents were chatting warmly. Wine flowed, laughter filled the room. At the head of the table, Ethan and I ate in silence. It had always been like this. My mother and my mother-in-law were best friends from college. They’d made a pact that their children would marry. Life got in the way, and they lost touch for years. When they reconnected, my family’s business was on the brink of bankruptcy. Ethan’s mother, horrified, brought me into their home overnight and insisted on honoring their old promise. His father funneled a few major investments into our company and saved us. “Did Ethan do something to you again?” my mom whispered, pulling me into a powder room. I was confused. “What?” She sighed. “Lila, he doesn’t just offer twenty million dollars for no reason. Since he took over the company, has he ever been that generous with us? Never.” She stroked my hair, her eyes full of a pain I didn’t understand. “Did he hurt you?” “Oh, honey, why did you have to fall for him? There are so many good men in the world. If you wanted to…” “If I wanted a divorce,” I interrupted her softly, “would you and Dad be mad at me?” The happy chatter from the dining room seemed a world away. My mom’s eyes filled with tears. “Money?” she whispered, her voice thick. “What does money matter if our family isn’t okay? The only reason we even kept the business going was because you loved him, and we wanted to give you some kind of leverage, something to stand on. Honey, we would have sold it and retired years ago.” My cheek, the one Summer had slapped, started to burn. I leaned against my mother’s shoulder. “What if I told you… what if I told you I was pregnant with his child, and I was planning on raising it alone, never getting married again? Would you be mad at me then?” 8 After dinner, I didn’t stay the night with Ethan, despite my in-laws’ not-so-subtle encouragement. I chose to go home with my parents. Ethan was standing at the door, his expression unreadable. “Wait.” His voice stopped all of us. “I need to talk to you, so—” He never finished the sentence. His assistant came running up the long driveway, out of breath. “Mr. Vance, it’s Summer… she never went to the hospital this afternoon… she must have passed out from the pain at some point. Her neighbor just found her and she’s on her way to the ER now…” The assistant finally registered the audience standing in the grand entryway. He immediately fell silent, bowing his head in shame. Ethan’s father was the first to explode. “Who the hell is Summer? Why are you bothering us with this nonsense! Give her some money and get rid of her!” “Get the car,” Ethan said, his voice flat, as if he hadn’t heard a word. “I said, get the car. Are you deaf?” He ignored the shocked protests of his parents. He ignored the stony faces of my parents. He threw a single glance at me. “We’ll talk later,” he said, before striding off into the night. I didn’t care. I told my parents to focus on stabilizing the company. That night, I packed a single bag, and I left. I went to the airport, alone. I left in such a hurry, I forgot the one thing that mattered. I left the positive pregnancy report from my doctor sitting on the nightstand in my empty bedroom.

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The class fund was missing. The teacher took me to check the security footage. On the screen, we saw a couple locked in a passionate kiss in the empty classroom. The guy was my childhood best friend, Liam, who had just confessed his feelings for me the day before. The girl was Maya, the one he always claimed he couldn’t stand. * 1 The second the class fund was declared missing, our class president, Jessica, pointed a finger straight at me. She wanted to search my bag. I saw her shoot a triumphant look over at Maya. I knew exactly what this was about. It was about Liam. Everyone knew Maya was obsessed with Liam, but he’d always treated her like she was invisible. Yesterday, when Liam made a big, dramatic production of asking me out in front of half the school, I saw Maya in the crowd. Her face was pale, her eyes filled with a tragic, tearful desperation as she stared at him. It was so intense that Liam actually fumbled his big confession speech. In the end, though, I’d accepted the bouquet of roses. And as he was joyfully spinning me around, Maya had covered her face and run off, sobbing. She and Jessica were best friends. This whole missing-money thing was just their petty little revenge plot. “I didn’t take it,” I said, standing up, my voice calm. “There’s a security camera right there. Just check it. There’s nothing to argue about.” Liam, who had been lazily spinning a pen, froze. A flicker of anxiety crossed his face. “I don’t think it was Chloe,” he said slowly. “She’s not that kind of person.” At his words, Maya’s eyes immediately reddened. She bit her lip, looking at him with the most pathetic, wounded expression I’d ever seen. Liam awkwardly looked away, refusing to meet her gaze. Jessica’s eyes darted between them. “Chloe’s right,” she announced loudly. “Even though she was the only one who came back to the classroom during gym class, we shouldn’t falsely accuse a fellow student. We should check the security footage to clear her name.” Something felt wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Suddenly, Liam shot to his feet, kicking his desk over with a loud crash. “Are you guys done?!” he roared. “It’s just the class fund! Why are you making such a big deal over a few bucks? I’ll cover it. Double.” I frowned at him. “Liam, what are you doing? I said I didn’t take it, and you said you believe me. So why should you pay for it? Shouldn’t we be trying to find out where the money actually is?” He turned to me, his expression almost pleading. “Chloe, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” “I’m not hurt,” I said, meeting his gaze evenly. “But I *will* be if we don’t get to the bottom of this.” Liam’s expression shifted through a series of emotions. Finally, with a sharp glare in Maya’s direction, he gritted his teeth. “Fine. Do whatever you want.” He turned and stormed out of the classroom. * 2 The moment I saw the footage, I understood Maya’s real game. There, in the empty classroom, was Liam, pinning Maya against the wall. They were kissing, a desperate, tangled mess of limbs. The sunlight streamed in behind them, creating a halo effect around the two beautiful teenagers. It looked like a scene from a cheesy high school romance movie. “He told me he’s just playing with you, Chloe.” Maya’s voice, sharp and venomous, came from right behind me. “Did you know? We made a bet. How long it would take for him to sleep with you. Why else do you think he’d ask you out?” Her eyes raked over me, lingering disdainfully on my chest. “What’s he gonna do with that flat-as-a-board chest of yours?” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. It didn’t work. I spun around and slapped her across the face. She clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief, her whole body trembling with rage. “You hit me?” I ignored her and went back to the monitor. I hadn’t forgotten the real reason we were here. I still had to find the money, even if that was the last thing on Maya’s mind. “He said he’s been sick of you for years,” she hissed, her voice dripping with poison. “He’s known you his whole life. He said holding your hand gives him zero physical reaction. It’s like holding his own hand.” The timeline on the monitor showed it was almost time for the bell. “He said your bedroom has no taste. It’s like a guy’s room. You just leave your underwear lying around. And it’s all cutesy, childish stuff. He said it’s a total turn-off.” The footage showed the students leaving for gym class. The first to go was… “He even told me about the teddy bear. The one you’ve had since you were seven. He forgot to get you a birthday present, so he pulled it out of a random trash can on the street. He told you he dropped it and got it dirty, and you bought it. You treated it like a priceless treasure, washed it, and you still sleep with it every night.” The last two to leave were Maya and Jessica. They took the envelope with the class fund from the teacher’s desk, and then… “He said the way you look at him creeps him out. Your crush is like a spotlight, always following him. He thinks you’re a stalker, a total freak.” There it was. They’d shoved the envelope behind the trash can. I’d found it. I forced myself to stop the video. I turned to Maya, my face a blank mask. “Are you done?” She flinched, taking a step back. I smiled, a cold, empty thing. “I’m not going to hit you again. I don’t want to get my hands dirty. I found the money. I’m going back now.” As I walked away, I heard her hiss, “You’ll regret this, Chloe!” * 3 I found the money, gave it to the teacher, and then checked myself out of school for the day. I couldn’t face Liam. Maya’s words were a chaotic storm in my head, spinning and crashing into each other. At first, I hadn’t wanted to believe any of it. But when she mentioned the teddy bear, I knew. It was true. Just a couple of days ago, my parents had invited him over for dinner. He’d walked into my bedroom without knocking, just like he always did. I’d just changed into a dress and, blushing, asked him to please knock next time. He just shrugged. “What is there to see?” It stung, but I brushed it off as a joke between old friends. I never imagined he actually meant it. Then he’d seen the bear on my bed. Its fur was mostly worn off, leaving it a sad, bald thing. Liam had wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You still have that?” “It was the first birthday present you ever gave me,” I’d said softly. I didn’t say the rest: *and that’s why I’ll cherish it forever.* He’d seemed moved by that. He put an arm around me. “I’ll get you a new one this year. You can throw this old thing out.” His familiar scent filled my senses, and I could feel my own heart hammering against my ribs. Maya was right. I had been in love with him for as long as I could remember. That’s why I’d said yes without a second’s hesitation when he asked me out. I guess the whole world could see it. So why couldn’t he? My phone rang. It was the special ringtone I had set just for him. I answered. His voice was sharp, accusatory. “Why did you push Maya down the stairs?” * 4 When I got to the hospital, Maya was in bed, her mother fussing over her. The second she saw me, her mother charged, her finger jabbing at my face. “You vicious little girl! Just because you’re jealous, you think you can push my daughter down a flight of stairs? This isn’t over!” Maya, looking pale and fragile with her right ankle in a cast, shot me a look of pure triumph. “Mom, stop,” she said, her voice a pathetic whimper. “She didn’t mean to.” Liam was standing off to the side, his face a mask of disappointment. “Chloe, I never thought you were this kind of person.” “Oh, really?” I said, my voice calm as I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “Hello, I’d like to report an assault.” Maya panicked. “Chloe, what are you doing?!” “Calling the police,” I said, holding up my phone. “You said I pushed you. Don’t you want justice?” “I… I forgive you,” she stammered, biting her lip, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “I know you’ve always been upset about me and Liam… and then you saw the security footage yesterday… you just lost control…” Liam looked panicked now too. He took a step toward me, reaching for my hand. “Chloe, I can explain.” I stepped back. I quickly gave the dispatcher the details, then turned my cold gaze back to Maya. “I don’t need your forgiveness, because I didn’t do anything. And even if you want to drop it, I don’t want to be falsely accused.” “And you,” I said, looking Liam up and down, at a loss for what to even call him. “Chloe, don’t look at me like that,” he pleaded. “I can really explain.” “And I,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “don’t want to hear it.” I raised an eyebrow at Maya. “I will accept the results of the police investigation. I believe the truth will come out.” * 5 Unfortunately, I had spoken too soon. Maya had an ace up her sleeve. The security camera in the hallway was broken. The classroom footage only proved that I had left first, and that she had followed me. And the slap I’d given her proved that we had a conflict. It all made me look incredibly guilty. Even though I insisted I was innocent, no one believed me. My parents were called to the principal’s office. After hearing the story, my mother, without even asking for my side, slapped me across the face. “When are you going to grow up? When are you going to get rid of these terrible habits?” She turned to Maya and apologized profusely. “I am so sorry. We raised her in the countryside when she was young, and she picked up some… bad traits. We’ve been trying to correct them, but… how much do we owe you for the medical bills?” My ears were ringing. My mother just kept going on and on about how difficult I was. Liam was standing nearby. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. When our eyes met, he quickly looked away. Maya hobbled over to me on her crutches. “This is what you get for messing with me, Chloe,” she whispered. Through the haze of noise and humiliation, I heard my own voice, small but defiant. “I didn’t push her.” I stared at my mother, willing her, for once in my life, to be on my side. But she wasn’t. “The evidence is clear, and you’re still lying,” she said, her eyes full of a weary disappointment. “How many more lies are you going to tell?” “Is it because you’re so afraid I’ll outshine my little brother?” I shot back. “You believe anything anyone says about me, as long as it’s negative.” “What are you talking about?” My mother’s face flushed with the shame of being caught. She covered her face and started to cry. “After everything I’ve done for you…” The office was surrounded by students, all of them watching the show. I felt like a clown in a circus, performing for their amusement. “Alright, alright,” the dean said, trying to restore order. “Let’s just let this go.” Maya smiled a sweet, innocent smile. “Mom, it’s okay. I didn’t know Chloe had it so hard. Let’s just drop it.” My mother looked up, her face full of gratitude. “Oh, thank you. You’re such a kind, beautiful girl.” As we were leaving, I saw Liam in the crowd. “Do you believe them?” I asked quietly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know. People change.” I just nodded. He was right. People do change. * 6 That night, I was studying when I got a text from Liam. “Come down.” I looked out my window. He was leaning against the big oak tree in our front yard, his head bowed, holding something in his hand. I thought about it for a second, then closed the window and blocked his number. I could hear my parents arguing downstairs. My little brother, Leo, came into my room, holding his phone. “Chloe, it’s Liam. For you.” I took the phone and immediately hung up. “From now on, if he calls, just hang up.” Leo took the phone back. “Chloe,” he said softly, “is it because of me that you’re so unhappy here?” I ruffled his hair. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he was a good kid. When I first came back from living with my grandparents in the country, he had been hostile. He saw me as an intruder, and my mother’s negative opinion of me was formed in those early days. She thought I was trying to hurt him, to steal her affection. But as he got older, he changed. He started saving his favorite snacks for me. If my parents were going out and I wasn’t, he’d refuse to go too. He probably remembered how he used to treat me, and knew I didn’t like him, so he just watched me from a distance. I remember one time, when my parents were out, I took him to get a burger. He held my hand the whole way, and as we were eating, he looked down at his food and whispered, “I’m sorry.” In that moment, I knew he remembered. And I forgave him. “It’s not your fault,” I said, messing up his hair again. “Don’t worry about it.” “Did Liam hurt you?” he asked, his little fists clenched. “I’ll go beat him up for you.” I couldn’t help but smile. “He has terrible taste,” I said. “Just ignore him. We’re not friends anymore.” “Don’t be sad, Chloe. You’re amazing. You’ll find someone so much better.” I just smiled. So everyone in the world knew I was in love with him. And he still waited until now to ask me out. Maybe Maya was right. Maybe it was all just a game. The next day, as I walked into the classroom, Liam blocked my way. He did not look happy. “Why didn’t you come down last night? Why did you block me?” “Did you need something?” My cold tone seemed to sting him. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight. “You still haven’t apologized to Maya!” I yanked my arm away. “Liam, are you insane? I told you, I didn’t push her.” “The police basically confirmed it, and she’s still denying it,” Jessica sneered from the sidelines. “She’ll never change. Even her own mother knows what she’s like.” * 7 The other students started to gather around, their voices a chorus of condemnation. “Chloe, I never realized you were so vicious.” “What’s not to realize? She probably found out that Liam only asked her out as a joke. Her little fantasy was shattered, so of course she’d lash out.” “Did you really think hurting Maya would make Liam like you?” “You’re disgusting, Chloe. You’re like one of those evil, obsessed female villains in a movie.” A thousand voices, a million insults, all directed at me, burrowing into my soul. The small, defiant voice inside me that kept insisting, *I didn’t do it*, grew fainter and fainter. What was the point? I thought. My whole life was a joke, a poorly timed entrance. My silence only seemed to fuel their anger. It wasn’t until the bell rang and the teacher walked in that they finally dispersed. “We are all on the verge of graduation,” the teacher announced, her eyes fixed on me. “I hope you will all focus on your studies. Some of us should learn not to drag others down with our bad behavior.” I looked up, my lips parting, but as our eyes met, I just lowered my head and let out a small, bitter laugh. From that day on, I became the school pariah. My textbooks would disappear. My desk would be covered in graffiti. Trash would be piled under my chair. Sometimes, there would be something sticky and foul smeared on my seat that I couldn’t completely clean off. One day, as I was scrubbing at a particularly nasty stain, Liam walked by. “Actions have consequences, Chloe. As soon as you apologize to Maya, this will all stop.” I didn’t even look at him. It got worse when Maya returned to school. Her ankle was fine, but she’d pretend it was still hurting, ordering me around, making me her personal servant. She called it my “chance to atone.” When I refused, she’d start to cry, tugging on Liam’s sleeve. “Liam, it hurts…” He’d look at me, a cruel smirk on his face, and kick my leg out from under me, sending me to my knees. “If you won’t work, you can kneel and repent,” he’d say. I’d get up, and he’d kick me again. And again. And again. Eventually, his own leg was trembling from the effort, but I just kept getting back up, staring him down. “Liam,” I said, my voice shaking but firm, “you can either kill me today, or I will never bow to her.” He looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and something else I couldn’t quite read. A few of the other students looked scared. One of them tugged on his shirt. “Dude, just stop.” He took the out. “Someone’s begging for you. I’ll let you off this time.” I let out a low laugh. “I don’t need your pity. And by the way, Liam, you seem to have forgotten something.” I looked him straight in the eye. “We’re breaking up. From now on, you and I have nothing to do with each other.”

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I was the backup plan for three different men. Number one was my childhood best friend. His heart still belonged to his high school sweetheart. Number two was the lead singer of an indie band. After we slept together, he lit a cigarette and said, “We’re still just friends, right?” Number three was my boss. He warned me with an icy stare, “Don’t get any ideas. I will only marry a woman from a family of equal standing.” Then, my mom started pressuring me to go on blind dates. Suddenly, my childhood best friend was at my door with a marriage license. The rock star was texting me, “I can’t live without you.” And my boss was on one knee, holding a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg. Seriously? I thought we all agreed this was just for fun. * 1 My mom called, nagging me about another blind date. “I know, I know,” I said, trying to get her off the phone. “Just text me the time and place.” As I hung up, Alex came out of the bathroom. He had his beige cashmere sweater pushed up to his elbows, and in his hands, he was holding the underwear I’d left to soak. He walked across the living room and out onto the balcony to hang them up to dry. “Who was that?” “My mom.” He adjusted my lingerie so it would catch the morning sun, then turned to look at me. The soft light framed him in gold, making his amber eyes look like autumn leaves. “So you won’t be home for dinner tonight. I made fish and some vegetables. The fish is staying warm on the stove, and you can just microwave the veggies.” He pulled his sleeves down and ruffled my hair, a gesture that was almost painfully tender. “Don’t order takeout.” I mumbled something noncommittal as I watched him grab his bag and head for the door. I knew exactly where he was going. His one true love was flying in from London today. * 2 I lived with Alex. He treated me like a daughter, hand-washing my delicates, cooking all my meals. I didn’t have to lift a finger. But I wasn’t his girlfriend. He was waiting for Ava. Technically, that made me the backup plan. I used to have more self-respect than this. It’s all those cheesy YA novels’ fault. The ones about the quirky, average girl and the quiet, devoted boy-next-door who secretly loves her. I read one and thought, *Hey, that’s me and Alex.* We were childhood best friends, inseparable. He was kind and gentle, but I was the only one he was ever really close to. I was average in every way—looks, grades, personality. But he was always there, walking me to and from school, helping me with my homework, even bringing snacks for all my friends, telling them, “Please be patient with Rosie.” I let it go to my head. I was a teenager in love. I started keeping a diary, knitting him scarves, baking him cookies. Then came graduation night. Alex showed up at our class party with a bouquet of flowers and a gift. The private room at the karaoke bar was loud and chaotic, but when the boy in the crisp white shirt started singing a soft, romantic ballad, everyone quieted down. He finished the song, his voice full of a sweet, boyish sincerity that almost brought me to tears. “I just want to tell you,” he said into the microphone, his eyes scanning the room, “that I really, really like you—” I jumped to my feet. “I like you too!” I blurted out. “—Ava,” he finished. The room went dead silent. Every single person turned to stare at me. My face was on fire. “I have to pee!” I yelled, then mumbled, “Excuse me, sorry,” as I stumbled out of the room. When I came back, I peeked through the crack in the door. There they were, the beautiful class president and my handsome best friend, standing on the little stage. “Kiss her!” someone yelled. The boy in white leaned down, his voice soft and reverent. “Can I, Ava?” The girl blushed and nodded. I didn’t watch the rest. * 3 After that, I avoided Alex like the plague. He showed up at my house, and I tried to run. He grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “Rosie.” “I’ve always just thought of you as a sister,” he said. Oh, a sister? What kind of brother helps his “sister” with her homework with his face so close he can feel her breath on his cheek? He was a walking, talking mixed signal. But I was a master of saving face. I forced a smile. “Haha, it’s okay, Alex. You’re a great brother. Thanks for everything.” He just looked at me with those big, sad puppy-dog eyes of his. “So you’re not mad at me? You’ll stop avoiding me?” “Of course,” I said. Then I applied to a college on the opposite side of the country. See ya. * 4 For four years, Alex and I were “friends.” When he texted, he’d reply in seconds. When I texted, I’d reply in days. He said he’d visit during breaks, so I’d book a trip with my roommates. Then, the year after I graduated, he told me he was being transferred to my city for work. I was living alone, and I was not thriving. I was drowning in work, navigating a minefield of office politics, and I was exhausted. I had been up for two straight nights when I opened my door to find him standing there. My apartment was a disaster zone of takeout containers and scattered clothes. He was dressed impeccably, holding a bag of fresh fruit. His eyes landed on the dark circles under mine. He just smiled that familiar, gentle smile. “I knew you wouldn’t be taking care of yourself.” “What are you doing here?” I snapped, my patience worn thin. He just gently nudged me aside and walked in, heading for the kitchen to wash the fruit as if he owned the place. “I didn’t say you could come in,” I grumbled, following him. He just handed me a bowl of strawberries. “Sit. Eat.” Before I could protest, he started cleaning. The dirty dishes in the sink, the hair clogging the shower drain, the mess of tampons and pads falling out of my bathroom cabinet… Four hours later, I was sitting in my sparkling clean living room, the sun warming my skin. On the coffee table was a bowl of chicken noodle soup he had made from scratch. I looked up at him. He was still mopping the floor. He was wearing the silly teddy bear apron I’d bought as a joke, and it hugged his lean waist. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, catching the light. I narrowed my eyes. “What’s the deal, Alex?” He turned to me, his smile as warm as the sun. “Rosie, I’ve been taking care of you since we were kids.” “I’m afraid your girlfriend will come over here and murder me in my sleep,” I said. “Don’t drag me into your drama.” He flinched, the light in his eyes dimming. “Ava and I broke up a long time ago. She went to grad school in London.” I looked down at my soup and started to eat. I didn’t say a word.

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After submitting my college application, I was on my way to see my boyfriend when I came across a viral video. The title read: [So what if he has a girlfriend? A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Watch me win over the campus ice king in one month.] In the video, a bright, confident girl had her hands tangled in a guy’s shirt collar. “Dating is boring,” she declared. “Kissing is boring. Dating and kissing is also boring. But kissing *without* dating? That’s exciting.” They stared at each other for three long seconds. Then she kissed him. He didn’t refuse. He didn’t resist. In fact, he wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her closer, melting into the kiss. The guy in the video? He was my boyfriend of eighteen years. … The breakup was ugly. Liam’s roommates all tried to reason with me. “Chloe, he was drunk. He thought that girl was you. It didn’t mean anything.” I just smiled. “This time, he kisses the wrong girl. Next time, he’ll sleep with the wrong one.” They say long-distance relationships are a recipe for disaster. I changed my college application. I was going north. From now on, we would go our separate ways. I would be just fine without him. * 01 The day after I got my SAT scores back, I applied to Southern University with a 0. You only needed a 1300 to get in. It was a promise I’d made to Liam. If I did well, I’d go to Southern. If I didn’t, I wasn’t allowed to take a gap year and try again. As long as we were both in the same city, it didn’t matter where we went to school. He’d told me that the year without me had been torture, that he regretted letting me retake the test. Well, this time, I’d aced it. We could finally be together again. But, Liam… it’s only been a year. How did you let another girl win you over so easily? I clicked on the vlogger’s profile. The latest video was titled “Success.” It was posted last night. Which meant they’d kissed last night. No wonder he hadn’t replied when I sent him a screenshot of my scores. He was busy with someone else. I clicked on the previous video. “Party.” [Finally got the ice king to come out with me. He even took a shot for me! I think the iceberg is starting to melt!] In the video, Liam was sitting next to the girl in a noisy bar. Someone was trying to get her to do a shot, and she was frowning. Liam grabbed the glass from her hand. “Picking on a girl? Lame. I’ll take it for her.” He downed it in one go. The girl rested her chin on her hand and looked at him, her eyes full of adoration. When their eyes met, Liam’s ears turned red. The comments on this video were different. They were all cheering her on. [He’s blushing! He’s totally into you! Go for it, girl!] [OMG, I’ve been following this since the beginning! Finally, some progress!] [Are we gonna get a kiss tonight?] [KISS! KISS! KISS!] … I was about to scroll to the next video when the train pulled into the station. It was a hundred degrees outside. The heat, the crowds, the relentless sun… suddenly, I didn’t want to see him anymore. I was afraid my surprise visit would turn into a nightmare. Maybe he didn’t want me here. Just as I was about to buy a ticket back home, my phone buzzed. It was Liam. [Babe, sorry, I was out with friends last night and didn’t see your message. I had a little too much to drink and passed out as soon as I got back to the dorm. I just saw your text.] [You did amazing! You’ll have no problem getting into Southern. I’ll be waiting for you, babe.] Waiting for me? But Liam, do you really want me to come? * 02 After a moment’s hesitation, my pride won out. I had to know. I replied. [I’m at the train station. Can you come pick me up?] The three little dots appeared and disappeared for a full three minutes before he replied. [Of course, babe. I’m on my way.] Southern University was only a couple of miles from the station. A ten-minute cab ride. I found a shady spot and opened the vlogger’s profile again. The third video. “Confession.” [They say it’s easy for a girl to win over a guy, but I just got rejected in the cafeteria. So sad…] In the video, the girl, looking sweet and innocent, was holding a bouquet of roses, her face full of a shy, hopeful love. Liam’s knuckles were white as he clutched his lunch tray. He hesitated, then took a small step back, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “Please, don’t do this.” He turned and walked away. She ran after him. “Why not? Am I not pretty enough? Is my body not good enough? I can be whatever you want, Liam! Just give us a try, please?” He didn’t stop. He dumped his untouched lunch into the trash. “Please, just… find someone else. We’re not right for each other.” His face was a cold mask, tinged with annoyance. I bit my lip. This was the Liam I knew. For eighteen years, I was the only girl he’d ever let get close. He was cold to everyone else, but with me, he was warm and talkative. When we finally got together, we were very public about it. We wore matching rings and bracelets, a clear signal to anyone who might try to get between us. He’d turned down every girl who’d ever asked him out, from the prom queen to the head cheerleader. But this time, it was different. Liam, why did you tell her you weren’t right for each other? Why didn’t you just tell her you had a girlfriend? The comments were a sea of encouragement, urging her not to give up. My head was spinning. Just as I was about to watch the next video, a shadow fell over me. A familiar voice. “Chloe!” I looked up. It was him. “Liam—” Before I could say anything, a girl in a short, red dress appeared out of nowhere, planting herself between us with a dazzling smile. “Hi, you must be Chloe! I’m Maya, one of Liam’s friends.” I stared at her. My breath caught in my throat. She was even more beautiful in person. And she had a confidence, a charisma, that a quiet, introverted girl like me could only dream of. No wonder Liam was interested. She took my arm, as if we were old friends. “You’re so cute! You’re so tiny, like a little doll. I’m 5’7″, I can’t even wear heels without towering over everyone.” “And you’re so slim! Everything must look so high-fashion on you. I have these two annoying lumps on my chest that make everything look bulky.” * 03 I frowned. On the surface, she was complimenting me, but the subtext was clear. I was short and flat-chested, while she was a tall, voluptuous goddess. I don’t like being touched by strangers. I tried to pull my arm away. “It’s nice to meet you, Maya. It’s a little hot to be sticking together, don’t you think?” She let go, looking a little embarrassed. “Oh, sorry! I’m just a very friendly person, haha.” I turned to Liam and held out my hand. “Let’s go. To your school.” Usually, he would have taken my hand without a second’s hesitation. This time, he hesitated. But someone else was faster. Maya grabbed my hand and started pulling me forward. “Let’s us girls walk together. The boys can carry the luggage.” As we passed Liam, I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He looked… relieved. My heart, which had been holding on by a thread, finally snapped. We’d been apart for one year, and now I, the official girlfriend, had to be treated like a secret? They had driven to the station. Another guy, the owner of the car, was with them. They had been together when I’d texted Liam. When they heard I was coming, they’d all decided to come pick me up. When we got to the car, Maya immediately opened the front passenger door. “Chloe, Liam told me you get carsick. You should sit up front.” I looked at Liam. He forced a smile and opened the back door. “You sit up front. Maya and I can squeeze in the back.” Squeeze in? After months apart, he was going to let me, his girlfriend, sit alone in the front while he sat with another girl in the back? I did get carsick, but when we took cabs together, I always sat in the back with him. “I don’t want to sit in the front. You can have it, Maya.” I started to walk around her, to get in the back. Liam held the door. “Chloe, don’t be difficult. Just sit in the front.” I looked up at him. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Maya. Just then, Maya let out a small, delicate cough. The guy in the driver’s seat honked the horn. “What’s the problem? Is there a bomb in the front seat? Why does no one want to sit here?” “Chloe, just take the front,” he said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Maya has a cold, and the AC is too strong up here.” At this point, if I didn’t get in, I’d look like a spoiled brat. Honestly, I wanted to turn around and leave. But then I thought, why should I? I’d come all this way, spent ten hours on a train, in a cramped, uncomfortable seat. Why should I just run away? Some things had to be settled, face to face. Even if it meant ending our relationship. I got in the front. Liam and Maya got in the back. “Fasten your seatbelt, Chloe,” the driver said. I did. As I looked up, my eyes met his in the rearview mirror. He had a strange, almost mocking smile on his face. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Liam had booked a hotel room near the campus. When we were checking in, he didn’t give the front desk his own ID. “Aren’t you staying here tonight?” I asked. * 04 His eyes darted over to Maya, then back to the desk. He reluctantly handed over his ID. It was still early. Maya and the other guy, whose name was Evan, went back to the school. In the elevator, Liam was back to his old self, his arm wrapped around my waist. “Babe, I was in a club meeting with Maya and the others when you texted. That’s why we all came to pick you up. Tonight, I’ll introduce you to everyone. You’ll be coming here in the fall anyway, so you might as well get to know them.” The thought of the video made my skin crawl. I instinctively moved away from his touch. He noticed. He always noticed. He looked down at me. “Babe, what’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” I just looked down, biting my lip, trying to swallow the bitter taste of betrayal. When I looked up, my expression was neutral. “It’s nothing. The elevator’s here. Let’s go.” I walked out. He just watched me, a strange look on his face, then followed with my suitcase. The second we were in the room, he was on me, his hot breath on my neck, his lips on my earlobe. “Babe, I missed you so much…” I tried to pull away, but he just swept me up into his arms. As we got closer to the bed, I started to struggle. “Liam, put me down.” He didn’t listen. He threw me onto the bed and pinned me down, his body trapping mine. He was breathing heavily, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, his other hand tracing a path from my chest down to my waist. “Babe, you’ve gotten so thin. Your waist is so tiny. You need to put on some weight. A little meat on the bones is cute, and feels better.” My waist was tiny? So he’d felt a waist that wasn’t? He’d never said he liked “meaty” girls before. Had his tastes changed in just a few months? The image of Maya, tall and curvy, flashed in my mind. A wave of nausea hit me. I shoved him off, ran to the bathroom, and threw up. The thought of him with her, doing the things we used to do, was a physical pain in my chest. Liam followed me, crouching down and rubbing my back. “Babe, did you eat something bad? Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” I pushed his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice cold. He froze, then tried to touch me again. I slapped his hand away. “Get out!” He stood there for a long moment, then sighed. “Okay. Just call me if you need anything.” He left, closing the door behind him. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I looked pathetic. *You’re such an idiot, Chloe.* You knew he was cheating, and you still came all this way just to torture yourself. This was it. Tonight would be the last night. When I came out to get my toiletries, Liam was already asleep on the bed. There were dark circles under his eyes. My heart, which should have felt something, was just cold. I took a shower, washed off my tear-stained makeup, and did a new, more dramatic look. He wanted me to meet his friends, right? The same friends who were probably there last night, cheering on Maya and Liam? Fine. I’d go. And I’d break up with him in front of all of them. Tonight, I wasn’t going to be the joke. I was going to be the one who set him free. * 05 At six o’clock, I woke Liam up. “Mmm… babe, how did I fall asleep?” he mumbled, pulling me toward him. “Are you feeling better?” I pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m fine. You should get ready. Isn’t there a party tonight?” He sat up, suddenly alert. “Oh, right! I totally forgot! What time is it?” “Six.” “Crap, we were supposed to meet at six-thirty.” He scrambled out of bed and into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, he was ready. We practically ran to the restaurant. Thankfully, I was wearing wedges. A lot of people were already there. And Maya, of course, was the center of attention. Evan was there too, looking as cold and unapproachable as ever. Even though he was just as handsome as Liam, no one was talking to him. I wondered how he’d ended up in this group. He didn’t seem to fit. When we walked in, all eyes turned to us. And in that moment, Liam let go of my hand. He grabbed it again a second later, but I pulled away. “There are a lot of people watching…” I mumbled. There were about twenty people there. Five girls, including me and Maya. The other three were her roommates. Liam’s three roommates were there too. Maya immediately attached herself to Liam’s side, and they started talking about some game they were planning for the party. He was so engrossed, he completely forgot about me. Evan came and stood next to me. “Looks like your boyfriend is about to become your ex-boyfriend,” he said, his voice low enough for only me to hear. I almost choked. I stopped walking and stared at him. How could someone with such a cold, intimidating face say something so catty? The cognitive dissonance was astounding. He just looked at me, then cleared his throat. “We should go. Before your boyfriend and his new girlfriend start holding hands.” I was speechless. That mouth of his was a lethal weapon. I hurried to catch up to Liam. Evan stayed by my side, maintaining a precise, one-fist distance between us. It was strange. There was plenty of space, why was he crowding me? A thought struck me. Two ridiculously handsome guys… was it possible? Was he into Liam too? Was he trying to get closer to him by sticking to me? I took a closer look at Evan. He was beautiful. What a waste. A four-person relationship was just too crowded. I leaned in and whispered, “Evan, do you want to switch places?” * 06 I was trying to be generous. I didn’t want Liam anymore. Maya could have him. Evan could have him. I didn’t care. Evan just looked at me and pouted. “No, I like the outside.” Men. So dramatic. In the private room, I sat next to Liam. Maya was on his other side. And Evan… was on my other side. He was like a shadow. I was the only outsider. Everyone was curious about me. “Liam, who’s this?” a girl with pigtails asked, her eyes full of gossip. Liam put his arm around my shoulder. “This is my girlfriend, Chloe. If she hadn’t messed up her SATs last year, we would have come to Southern together.” “Oh, a girlfriend,” the girl said, her tone full of meaning. “You never mentioned her. We all thought you were single, haha.” “Chloe, you couldn’t even get a 1300? I heard last year’s test was easy. The year before, that was the hard one. But our Maya is a genius. She got a 1450. And Liam got a 1 last year. What did you get?” Was she trying to start something with me? Before I could say anything, Liam jumped in. “Chloe usually does really well. She just had a bad day, made a few mistakes. She got a 1280, only 20 points short of the cutoff.” A bad day? Mistakes? So in his mind, my failure was all my fault? He seemed to have forgotten the fact that the night before the test, he had convinced me to “relax” with him, and then, with his clumsy, inexperienced technique, had left me in so much pain that I’d fainted during the English section. I’d powered through the rest of the test, but I was so out of it, I’d left the last two math problems blank. English and Math were my best subjects. I usually got close to a perfect score. That year, I bombed them. And now, he was acting like he had nothing to do with it? The girl with the pigtails exchanged a look with her friends. “That’s such a shame. Maya told us you took a gap year. So what did you get this year? I heard this year’s test was even easier, but more people took it, so a 1300 might not even be enough…” All eyes were on me. Liam frowned, looking uncomfortable. “Chloe will be fine this year. She did really well. She’ll definitely get in.” The girl was relentless. “How well? Just tell us your score. We’re all curious.” Liam looked at me, about to speak, but I cut him off. “Oh, nothing special,” I said, my voice calm and clear. “Just a 15”

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When my boyfriend found out I wasn’t going to grad school, he was so furious he slapped me. “Is it because I told your sister to apply to the same program as us?” I didn’t say anything, which he took as a yes. He laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “Fine. Just fine. I’m trying to help you two mend fences, and you’re throwing away your future out of spite!” “From now on, don’t you come crawling back to me!” I watched him storm out, a small, secret smile on my lips. He had no idea. I had been accepted into a top-secret, highly classified Ph.D. program in aerospace engineering. The one that builds missiles for the government. It was an eight-year, fully immersive, off-the-grid commitment. I was leaving in ten days. And he was right. I was never coming back. * 1 “Why do you have to be so stubborn? She’s your sister!” Outside, the sky was a canvas of bruised, angry clouds. Inside, Mark’s face was a mirror of the storm, all impatience and frustration. “Let’s break up,” I said again, my voice flat. He just arched an eyebrow. “Chloe, do you really think you can threaten me like this?” I was taken aback. “I’m not trying to threaten—” “Enough,” he cut me off. “I don’t have time for your games. You need to cool down and think about this. I’m doing this for both of you. Ashley understands what I’m trying to do. Why can’t you?” A wave of exhaustion washed over me. “Whatever you say. But as of today, we’re done.” I turned to leave. We were in the library, and our argument was already drawing annoyed looks from the other students. But of course, that’s when Ashley appeared. She was holding a stack of books, and she looked at Mark with a wide, innocent smile. “Mark, I’m getting ready for my program interview, and there are a few things I’m not sure about. I was hoping you could help me.” I let out a short, humorless laugh and started to walk away. But Ashley’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm. “Little sister, you’re not still fighting with Mark because of me, are you?” Her face was a perfect picture of concerned helplessness. “You’re a grown-up now, Chloe. You should be more mature. We’re sisters. We’re family.” The word “sisters” was a lit match to the gasoline of my anger. “Sisters? I have no intention of being sisters with the daughter of a homewrecker.” Ashley’s face went white. “How could you say that? Even if you don’t like me, Mark is your boyfriend. He’s trying so hard to fix things between us. You should at least appreciate his efforts.” Mark shot her a look of pure, unadulterated gratitude. “Ashley, don’t waste your breath on her. She’s always been selfish. The only person she cares about is herself.” I laughed. “Oh, I’m so selfish. So selfish that when I was in the hospital with a heart condition, I actually hoped my boyfriend would come visit me instead of going on a trip with another woman. So selfish that when my boyfriend drained my bank account, I actually hoped he’d leave me enough money for food instead of spending it all on gifts for someone else. And so selfish that when I decided to go to grad school, I actually wanted to go to a good school, in a field I was passionate about, instead of listening to my boyfriend and applying to a worse school in a completely unrelated major. I’m just the worst.” Mark froze. He frowned. “Those are all minor things. Why are you so hung up on the past? Ashley is your family too. As your boyfriend, it’s my job to care about your family.” I stared at him, my voice a low, dangerous growl. “I will never, ever, consider the bastard child of the woman who killed my mother ‘family.’” “Okay, okay, it’s all my fault,” Ashley said, her voice full of a tragic, self-sacrificing drama. “I’ll stay away from you two from now on. Don’t let me ruin your relationship.” She turned and walked away, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Mark’s face was a mask of fury. “Look what you’ve done! I’m telling you, Chloe, after what you just said, you could get on your knees and beg, and I would never take you back.” He turned and ran after her. I just stood there and laughed. Take me back? Don’t worry, Mark. I’m never coming back. 2 I went back to my dorm and packed my books. A few minutes later, a picture from Ashley appeared in the family group chat. In the photo, she and Mark were sitting close together, their heads touching as they looked at the same book. The caption read: “Every single second I get to study with you is a treasure.” My relatives, who had no idea what was going on, started commenting. “Is this Ashley’s new boyfriend? He’s so handsome!” “They make a beautiful couple!” “Ashley is just like her mother. So charming. All the boys must be in love with her.” That last comment seemed to cast a spell. The chat went silent. A few minutes later, another message from Ashley appeared. “Oops, wrong chat! My bad. I can’t delete it now, so just pretend you didn’t see it. Mark and I are just friends.” I fought the urge to leave the group chat and just turned my phone off. But the screen lit up again. It was a message from Mark. *If you really don’t want to go into Ashley’s field, you can just apply again next year. To whatever you want.* I just laughed and blocked his number. I was exhausted. All I wanted was to sleep. But of course, that wasn’t going to happen. It was the end of the semester, and everyone was going their separate ways. It was a never-ending parade of goodbye dinners and parties. Tonight was the last meeting of the kickboxing club. 3 When I walked into the private room at the restaurant, it was already packed. The air was thick with the smell of beer and loud chatter. I found a quiet corner and sat down, partially hidden by a large plant. No one noticed me. And no one noticed that I could clearly hear the conversation from the booth next to ours. It was Mark. He sighed dramatically. “I really tried my best.” “When I found out she didn’t get into any grad programs, I was so worried. I even texted her and told her to try again next year. And she just blocked me.” A few sympathetic sighs from his audience. A girl’s voice piped up. “Mark, you’re just too nice. She doesn’t deserve you. She’s the one who didn’t try hard enough, and she’s taking it out on you. So ungrateful.” Mark’s voice dropped even lower. “Maybe it was the way I said it. But still, I was just trying to help her. I was trying to mend her relationship with her family, to plan for her future. And she just threw it all back in my face.” I squeezed my glass, my knuckles turning white. I should have known this was a bad idea. I stood up, ready to say a quick goodbye and get out of there. But as I took a step, someone stumbled into me. It was Ashley. She was holding an empty wine glass, a look of fake surprise on her face. “Oh, little sister! You’re here!” she said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. The wine from her glass had soaked the front of my white dress. She looked at the stain, then laughed. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t see you. But I’m sure you don’t mind, right? You bought this dress for your grad school interviews, and since you didn’t get in… it’s not like you’ll need it anymore. When you finally do get in, I’ll buy you a new one.” A few people snickered. I looked down at the spreading stain. “I do mind,” I said, my voice as cold as ice. “This dress was six hundred dollars. Cash or Venmo?” The smile on Ashley’s face froze. “We’re sisters. You don’t have to be so petty, do you?” She put on that familiar, cloying smile. “I’ll buy you a new one. Next time Mark and I go shopping.” I knew she never would. It was her signature move. Ever since she’d moved in with my dad, she’d “accidentally” broken countless things of mine, always promising to replace them. But when I’d ask, she’d just raise her voice. “Are you still hung up on that? You’re so petty. You’re just like your mother. And you know what happens to petty people like her? They die young.” Her words still echoed in my ears. I pulled out my phone and opened my Venmo app. “Now. Six hundred dollars.” Ashley’s face finally crumbled. “Do you have to be like this? It’s just a dress…” Just then, Mark appeared, stepping between us. He looked at me with a profound disappointment. “Do you really have to make a scene? Ashley said she’d replace it. Why are you being so aggressive? And besides, your mother left you plenty of money. Why are you so obsessed with Ashley?! Chloe, don’t take it too far.” He frowned, his face a mask of righteous indignation. The same expression I had once found so charming. Now, it just made me sick. I looked at the two of them, standing side by side. “So, she ‘accidentally’ bumps into me and ruins my dress, and I’m the one who’s supposed to just take it?” Mark faltered. “That’s not what I’m saying… but can’t you just be the bigger person?” Behind him, Ashley was smiling a triumphant little smile. 4 Suddenly, Matt, the president of the kickboxing club, was at my side, his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, we’re all friends here. Let’s not fight over something so silly.” He turned to Ashley. “Ashley, you did ruin her dress. You should pay for it.” Then he gave me a look. “Chloe, just calm down.” Ashley reluctantly took out her phone and scanned my Venmo code. “Six hundred dollars. Sent. Are you happy now?” she said, her voice full of a sullen resentment. I looked at the notification on my phone, then at Mark’s disapproving face. I felt no satisfaction at all. How had we ended up here? He used to be so different. He used to love me. He used to put me first. My sophomore year, he’d spent a whole day driving all over the city just to find a signed copy of my favorite author’s book. He’d said my eyes lit up when I read, and he wanted to protect that light. He hated ballet, but because my mother had been a dancer, he’d sat through countless performances with me, just to help me feel close to her. We had made so many plans, so many promises. And then… he met Ashley. The signed book was “accidentally” ruined by a spilled glass of water. Mark had stopped me from getting angry. “She didn’t mean to. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” For our group project, he’d added Ashley to our team without even asking me. She’d changed my data, and we were disqualified. Half a year of my work, gone. Mark just told me to be more understanding. “She was just trying to help. She had good intentions.” He’d promised to go to a ballet with me, but then Ashley called, saying she had a stomach ache, and he’d rushed to the hospital, leaving me waiting in the rain for three hours. Later, I saw them outside the hospital, arm in arm, laughing and eating ice cream. When he saw me, he’d just frowned. “Are you following me? Ashley wasn’t feeling well. Can’t you be more considerate? You can watch a hundred ballets, it’s not going to bring your mother back to life. What’s the point of watching all that depressing stuff anyway?” The memories flashed through my mind, each one a fresh wave of ice in my veins. I turned and walked out of the restaurant without another word. Mark called after me. I didn’t turn back. And he didn’t follow.

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I’m a massage therapist. And my only clients are young women. For every session, I wear compression leggings. The look on their faces when they see the outline of my body is always the same. A flicker of shock, a blush of shyness, and then… the unmistakable spark of desire. But the client today, her face was a mask of pure terror. And in that moment, a wave of relief so profound it almost buckled my knees washed over me. Because the one I’ve been waiting for, for three long years, had finally walked through my door. 1 My hands, slick with aromatic oil, moved with steady, powerful pressure across her pale, delicate skin. The woman on the massage table let out a series of low, suppressed moans that filled the quiet room, but my expression remained a perfect blank. When the session was over, I meticulously wiped the excess oil from her body. Her face was flushed, her eyes darting constantly toward my lower body. As she was leaving, she bit her lip and gave her phone a little shake in my direction. “Want to add me? We could grab a drink tonight?” I shook my head, declining. Her gaze fell one last time, disappointed, to the front of my leggings before she turned and left. I let out a long sigh and wrote a number in my notebook. 1000. Then I scratched it out with a single, heavy line. After carefully sanitizing the massage table, I dimmed the lights in the studio. I lit a stick of incense, the smoky scent of sandalwood curling into the air, and put on a playlist of melancholic classical music. Then, I pressed the buzzer on the wall. A soft chime echoed, and the door to the studio swung open. The woman who entered made me catch my breath. Long dark hair, a short skirt, exquisitely fine features, and skin so pale it seemed to glow in the dim light. I gestured toward the massage table, indicating she should lie down. But she didn’t move. Her eyes were locked on my lower body, a tremor running through her entire frame. Seeing that expression of raw terror on her face, I clenched my jaw, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it felt like it might stop. Three years. My one-thousand-and-first client. The one I was looking for was finally here. 2 My name is Noah, and I’m a massage therapist. If you want to book a session with me, you have to follow two rules. First, I only work on women under the age of twenty-three. Second, I must wear compression leggings during the massage. When I first opened my studio, people assumed the worst. That the rules were just a pretext, a way for me to take advantage of my clients. People gossiped, saying my business would fail within a month. But a month later, not only was my studio still open, business was booming. Clients had to book a month in advance to get an appointment with me. There were three reasons for this. One, I am exceptionally good at what I do. I studied under a master therapist, but I also taught myself holistic medicine, combining ancient acupressure techniques with modern massage. I create my own proprietary blends of herbal-infused oils and aromatherapy sachets that not only rejuvenate the skin but can also soothe the chronic pain of old injuries. Two, I am… gifted. The leggings leave little to the imagination, and my physique is an undeniable distraction. Once women look, they find it hard to look away. Some have even offered me obscene amounts of money to spend a night with them. I’ve refused every single one. Three, I have a face that people tend to trust. I was born with fine features and fair skin. On top of that, I understand women. I know what they want to hear, what makes them feel seen. Almost every client becomes a repeat customer. They recommend me to their friends, creating a steady stream of new business. When my story eventually made its way online, I became the object of envy for men everywhere. They were jealous that I could make good money while being in such intimate contact with beautiful young women. But they have no idea. I have no interest in any of them. I’m doing all of this to find one person. And today, I finally found her. 3 Looking at the woman trembling with fear before me, I took a deep breath and managed a gentle smile. “What’s wrong?” I asked softly. “Are you not feeling well?” She finally spoke, her voice shaking. “Could you… could you maybe change into some looser pants?” I shook my head. “That’s my rule. I can’t change it.” She hesitated for a long moment before finally, with a look of grim determination, she slowly closed the door behind her. “I heard your technique is incredible for old injuries,” she said. “I have a lot of them. I’m counting on you.” I nodded and directed her to the changing room to put on the shorts and tank top I provided. When she emerged, she followed my instructions and lay face down on the table. I brought over a basin of steaming water, a fragrant herbal bath. I wrung out a towel that had been soaking in it and draped it over her back. As I worked, I kept my voice calm and professional. “First, we use a gentle heat to open up the pores and promote circulation. It makes the skin more receptive,” I explained. “You have to prep the canvas before you can create the art. This will allow my work to be much more effective.” “I’ve also added some calming herbs to the water. You’ll likely drift off for a little while,” I continued. “When you wake up, your body will be in its most relaxed state. That’s when the real massage begins.” Once the warm towels covered all of her exposed skin, she gradually closed her eyes and drifted into sleep. I looked down at the beautiful, vulnerable form on my table, and the corner of my mouth twitched into a small, cold smile. 4 When the woman woke up, I placed my phone on a tripod and started a livestream. I’d built up a decent following by posting short videos explaining different massage techniques. As soon as the stream went live, over a thousand people flooded in. The chat immediately exploded. WTF, is he really going live with a client like this? Damn, that woman on the table is a work of art! That skin, those legs… I can’t look away! Bro, you call that a massage? Let a real man show you how it’s done! I smiled at the screen. “Hello, everyone, and welcome. The purpose of today’s stream is to demonstrate a few techniques for all of you at home.” “Let’s get right to it.” I placed my hands on her back and began to knead the muscles. As I worked, I kept an eye on the chat. God, I would kill to be that massage table right now. Wait a second, you guys… does that woman look familiar to you? OH MY GOD, THAT’S THE INFLUENCER ARIA! HOLY SHIT, IT IS! I’m so jealous of this dude right now! Even though I don’t follow influencers, I’d heard of Aria. She had tens of millions of followers, earning tens of thousands of dollars in donations every time she went live. I never imagined she would become a mega-influencer… I had to bite down hard on my jaw to suppress the bitter jealousy that rose in my throat. Aria’s body is insane. Better than most celebrities. Never seen her from this angle before. This is a blessing. Look closer, guys. Look at all those scars on her body. Whoa, what the hell happened to her? Faint, silvery scars crisscrossed Aria’s skin, a dense network that looked almost like a monstrous tattoo. Looking at them, memories I had locked away deep in my mind began to stir, to rise, to surface. I froze for a moment, biting my lip until I tasted blood to bring myself back to the present. I shook my head, trying to force the memories back down. Pouring more oil onto my hands, I let my palms glide over her skin, which was now flushed pink from the heat. From her shoulders down to her ankles, until every inch of her was slick and gleaming. I began to apply gentle pressure to her lower back and both of her knees. With each press, she let out a sharp, stifled cry of pain. I spoke, my tone casual. “You have significant chronic injuries in these three areas.” “Looks like they were caused by some kind of severe impact, right?” When Aria nodded silently, I increased the pressure. “For years, these injuries must have caused you unbearable pain every so often,” I said. “I understand that kind of pain, because I have old injuries of my own.” “And when the pain comes, the memory of how you got the injury comes flooding back, doesn’t it? Which only makes the suffering worse.” Aria’s body went rigid. She said nothing. I gave a faint smile. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take very good care of you.” 5 My touch became gentler, and Aria’s body slowly began to relax completely under my hands. Feeling the give and take of muscle and skin beneath my fingertips, I glanced back at the screen. “I imagine this is getting a little boring for some of you,” I said to the camera. “So, why don’t I tell you all a story? Something I did a long time ago that I regret to this very day.” “Even though it’s been years, every time I think about it, I’m filled with remorse.” My fingers continued their dance across Aria’s back as I began to speak. “A lot of you probably envy my job. You think I get to look and touch beautiful women all day.” “But it’s not like that at all.” “You see, I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria when I was young. My body is male, but my mind, my identity, has always been female.” “To put it simply, for those of you in the chat, I’m gay.” “So, no matter how beautiful a woman is, my body doesn’t react. At all.” As I said this, I felt Aria’s body give a distinct, sharp shudder. In the chat, some people offered support, while others spammed homophobic slurs. I smiled faintly, ignoring them. “Growing up, I always got along better with girls,” I continued. “I was part of their circle, we were incredibly close. Several of them became my best friends.” “The guys were all jealous. They’d mock me and call me names behind my back.” “I pretended it didn’t bother me, but inside, it hurt. A lot.” “Because there were a few guys I had crushes on, but I had to bury those feelings deep down. I knew that if I ever let it show, I’d be treated like a freak, an outcast.” The chat went quiet. It seemed everyone was listening intently. Thanks to Aria’s fame, people were sharing the stream. The viewer count was climbing steadily. I went on. “My senior year of high school, I turned eighteen.” “The hormones of adolescence were like a volcano erupting inside me, melting away all my reason. I wanted to be in love like a normal person. I wanted someone I could confide in, someone whose arms I could fall into.” “And so… I made a decision that I will regret for the rest of my life.” 6 As I spoke, Aria’s body began to tremble more violently. At the same time, I slowly increased the pressure of my hands. “I downloaded a dating app and started pretending to be a woman online.” “I never played sports and didn’t spend much time in the sun, so my skin was already fairer than most girls’. My bone structure is small, too. If you only saw my hands or my legs, you wouldn’t guess I was a boy.” “So, I learned how to do my makeup. I bought a wig and a set of prosthetic breasts and put on a dress.” “With the help of some beauty filters, the person in the photos and videos I took was, for all intents and purposes, a beautiful woman.” “I posted them on my profile, and guys started messaging me immediately. I scrolled and scrolled, filtering through them, looking for my type.” The chat, which had been silent, came alive again. What a fucking creep. This is wild. First time I’ve ever heard a gay guy’s confession live. Keep talking! What happened next? The number of viewers kept rising, the stream’s popularity soaring. I moved to a new position and began working on Aria’s calves. Just as I was about to continue, a faint noise came from the storage cabinet in the corner of the room. Aria lifted her head, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the cabinet. I offered her a reassuring smile. “It’s an old building, we have a bit of a mouse problem. I had an exterminator in, but it looks like one of them got away.” I stomped my foot hard on the floor, and the noise from the cabinet stopped. I nodded, satisfied, and continued my story. “Soon, I was talking constantly with one guy. He was exactly my type. We had the same taste in movies, music, books… we just clicked.” “He was seventeen years older than me, but I didn’t care about the age gap. In fact, I was drawn to the mature, stable presence he had, so different from the awkward boys at my school.” “But as we got closer, a sense of dread started to build inside me. I knew my entire identity was a lie. No matter how beautiful I looked in my pictures, it didn’t change the fact that I was a boy.” “And just as my anxiety reached its peak, the thing I feared most finally happened.” “He asked if we could meet in person.” 7 I could feel the muscles in Aria’s body tightening, all the previous relaxation gone. The chat was in a heated debate. LMAO, I can’t even imagine that guy’s reaction. Guarantee you the storyteller got his ass kicked. So disgusting. Deceitful gay men are the worst. I wiped the oil from my hands, picked up a small massage roller, and began to slowly work it over the areas of Aria’s old injuries. “Heh, anyone who’s ever dated online knows that when you want to meet someone, the urge is impossible to resist,” I said. “I imagined the meeting a thousand times. He would be disappointed, angry, furious at my deception…” “He might even scream at me, or hit me.” “But in the end, I decided to go.” “I was tired of hiding behind a screen. I wanted to see him in real life.” “I prepared for that meeting for weeks. I practiced my voice and the way I walked, trying to seem more feminine. I got a full-body wax, bought the highest quality wig and prosthetics I could find. I would get fully dressed and made up and walk around outside for hours, until I was certain that no one could tell I was a boy.” “Finally, the day we had agreed to meet arrived.” “It was May twenty-fourth. A Sunday.” “There were fourteen days left until my final exams.” “That date… I don’t think I will ever forget it for as long as I live.” As I said the date, fragmented memories flashed through my mind. My heart seized in my chest, and the roller almost slipped from my grasp. Seeing me fall silent, the chat went wild. ???? What happened?? Tell us! This dude isn’t a masseuse, he’s a storyteller. He knows how to leave a cliffhanger, damn. Can you focus on the massage? Our Aria is in so much pain she’s gripping the sheets! I glanced at Aria. The veins on the back of her hands were bulging as she gripped the white sheet. But I knew the truth. I was barely applying any pressure at all. 8 “That day, I met the man I’d been dreaming of in a park.” “He was tall, and even more handsome than in his photos. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he hadn’t seen through my disguise. In fact, he seemed very pleased.” “For the first time in my life, a man held my hand.” “My heart was pounding so fast I could barely speak…” At this point, the chat was in an uproar. Ugh, that’s just sick. Is it sick? I dunno, I’m kinda shipping this. So what happened between you two?? I continued. “The man’s voice was gentle, he was well-spoken, and his clothes and cologne were expensive and refined. We sat on a bench in a quiet corner of the park, his arm around me, as he whispered sweet things in my ear.” “In that moment, I wished time would stand still.” “Eventually, he suggested we go back to his place. I wanted to spend more time with him, so I agreed. I got into his luxury car, and we drove to his villa in the suburbs.” “My family was working-class. Seeing his wealth only made me fall for him harder. Once we were inside the villa, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and started kissing me.” “It was my first kiss. The strange, new feeling was intoxicating.” “The next thing I knew, we were in his bedroom. And he had taken off all my clothes.” “He stared at my male anatomy and the prosthetic breasts. His expression turned terrifyingly dark.” “In that instant, it felt like I’d been plunged into ice water.” 9 I cleared my throat. The chat was now mostly filled with mockery. Hahaha, if that was me, I would’ve beaten him half to death. For real! So gross, anyone would lose their mind. You play with people’s feelings, you deserve to get beat. Wait, is it just me, or does the guy sound like the real problem here? Yeah, a man in his thirties online dating an 18-year-old? That’s predatory. Just as I was about to continue, Aria spoke. Her voice was a thin, trembling whisper. “Can you… please stop talking…?” I ignored her and kept going. “In that moment, my mind went completely blank. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. Looking at the expression in his eyes, I knew it was over between us.” “Just as I was about to offer a sincere apology, he walked toward me.” “His face had changed. It was sinister, twisted, horrifying…” “I was terrified. It hit me all at once that I was in a strange, isolated room with a powerful, unfamiliar man. Before I could even think about what to do, his hand flew out and he slapped me across the face.” “He used all his strength. I slammed against a wardrobe and crumpled to the floor. My face burned, and my head was ringing. Before I could even get the words ‘I’m sorry’ out, he kicked me hard in the stomach.” “The pain was so intense I nearly passed out. It felt like my insides were tearing apart. As I lay on the floor, gasping in agony, I saw that the wardrobe door had been knocked open when I hit it.” “And in that instant, all the physical pain seemed to vanish, replaced by a bottomless, soul-crushing terror.” “Do you want to guess what I saw inside that closet?” 10 Bang. The cabinet in my studio rattled again, much louder this time. I stood up and started walking toward it. Halfway there, the sound stopped. The chat, meanwhile, was buzzing. Okay, now things are getting interesting. HOLY SHIT! He was just talking about a closet, and the one in his room made a noise? I’m getting scared… I thought this was just a boring catfish story. It’s turning into a thriller. Stop dragging it out, just tell us! I took a deep breath, fighting to control the emotions churning inside me. “The wardrobe had two levels, separated by a wooden shelf. From where I was on the floor, my line of sight was level with the bottom shelf.” “There were three enormous glass jars.” “And floating in a clear, colorless liquid were the severed heads of three young women.” “Three pairs of wide-open eyes were staring right at me.” “My heart stopped.” By now, a tidal wave of comments had completely flooded the screen. WTF, is this story even real? Obviously fake. He’s making it up for clicks. Everyone report this loser, let’s get him banned. Feeling Aria’s body grow even more rigid, I didn’t bother explaining myself to the viewers. I just continued the story. “The intense fear jolted my memory. I remembered a news report from a few weeks earlier. Three high school girls had gone missing, one after another. They were still gone…” “The man in front of me… he was their killer.” “Chatting with me online to lower my guard, meeting me in a secluded park, bringing me to his isolated villa… he had used the same tactics on the other three girls.” “Looking at the torture instruments gleaming on the top shelf of the closet, at the marks on the girls’ heads, it wasn’t hard to imagine the horrors they had endured. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what this man, feeling deceived and enraged that I was a boy, would do to me.” “I struggled to sit up. I saw the man was now holding an axe, and he was walking slowly toward me.” Just then, one comment made me pause. I remember this. Three years ago, in that ritzy suburban area between my city and the next one, something big happened. There were cops everywhere, but you can’t find anything about it online now. The story was suppressed. What this streamer is saying… could it be real? A wave of “Holy shit” and “WTF” comments scrolled by. I continued. “In that moment, I couldn’t see any way out. No way to survive. No matter how I fought, I was no match for a large man with a weapon. But the will to live, it’s a powerful thing. Staring into the abyss, I managed to claw out a path.” “And that path was…” Before I could finish, Aria shot up from the massage table. She scrambled to the floor and fell to her knees in front of me, slamming her forehead against the hardwood with a sickening thud. Again and again. The skin on her forehead split open, and blood began to stain the floor. She looked up, her face a twisted mask of blood and tears, her voice sharp and trembling. “I’m begging you, please, don’t say any more!” 11 In less than a minute, the pristine influencer had been reduced to this pathetic, broken state. The livestream chat detonated. “?????????” “What the hell just happened to Aria?” “This has to be staged, right? It’s a script.” “I don’t think so, that wound and the blood are real!” “Aria definitely has some connection to this guy. Maybe she’s a character in his story.” I crouched down, looking directly into Aria’s eyes, and gently helped her to her feet. “You know that once a story has begun, it can’t be stopped.” “Let’s remember what happened that day, together.” Aria wrenched her hand from my grasp and scrambled for the door. She twisted the handle frantically, but the door wouldn’t budge. What is this guy trying to do? From Aria’s reaction, it seems like she doesn’t want him to finish the story. Should we call the cops…? I turned to the camera and held up my hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt her. If you want to call the police, you might as well hear the end of the story first.” The chat urged me to go on. I smiled. “The only way I could think of to survive was to offer the man a new target.” “As I said before, I had a lot of female friends. One of them, a girl named… let’s call her ‘Sarah.’ She and I were especially close. We told each other everything. We were like sisters.” “She was the only person I had ever told that I was gay.” “She was the only one who trusted me completely, without reservation.” “And she was the only one who would come to this secluded villa with just one phone call from me.” “So, as the man stood over me with the axe raised high, I played my only card.” “I said: ‘Don’t kill me. I can be your slave. I can find new prey for you. I can call a girl right now. She’s beautiful, tall… exactly your type.’”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385211”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Something shifted in my girlfriend after she started working at the private movie theater. The day shifts left her sullen and drained, but for the night shifts, she’d get excited, slipping into a new mini-skirt and garter stockings. She’d come home breathless every time, her blouse and skirt a mess of wrinkles. But the strangest moment came when I told her my promotion was a sure thing. I told her she’d soon be able to live the life she’d always wanted, a life of leisure, and she wouldn’t have to work at that theater another day. Her face hardened. Her eyes flashed with a look I’d never seen before as her voice shot up, sharp and cold. “It’s tiring, sure, but the work… it’s satisfying. I get a real thrill out of it. If you have a problem with that, we can just end things right now.” The word “thrill” hung in the air between us. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, so I dropped it. But a seed of suspicion had been planted, and my interest in this so-called private theater grew. After all, I’d never heard anyone describe a job with a word like “thrill.” It wasn’t until my best friend invited me out for a “movie night” that I finally understood. After a night of complete indulgence, I had to admit—he was right. The thrill was undeniable. 1 Lately, Stella had been working almost exclusively night shifts. The theater, a boutique place called Eclipse, was in a remote part of the city. I hated the thought of her coming home alone in the dead of night, so I made a habit of driving to pick her up. Tonight, I saw her staggering toward my car from a distance, and a knot of worry tightened in my stomach. I got out to meet her. “Hey, you okay? You don’t look so good.” “I’m… I’m fine.” Her voice was a strained whisper. She clutched the hem of her skirt, her body tensed as if she were holding something back. “Let’s just go home,” she urged, her voice low. “It was a long night.” Instead of sliding into the passenger seat like she always did, she opened the back door and collapsed onto the rear seat. “I’m just going to try and sleep. Wake me when we’re home.” “Sure thing,” I said, but as I glanced in the rearview mirror, my heart skipped a beat. She was curled into a tight ball, her eyes unfocused, hazy, like a sky clouded over. Something was deeply wrong. I’d been against her taking this job from the start. Call it a man’s intuition, but anything with the word “private” attached to it felt like a red flag. And a six-figure salary for being a theater “attendant”? It sounded too good to be true. But Stella had just laughed, wrapping her arms around my neck and melting my resolve with a kiss. “Oh, Liam, you worry too much. It’s a totally legitimate place. You can come visit me anytime you want, see for yourself.” So I’d caved. I watched her walk away that first day in her little skirt, and I’d felt a pang of something I couldn’t name. That very same night, at my own company’s awards dinner celebrating my team’s success, a few of my drunk colleagues cornered me, nudging me to join them for a second round of celebrations. They grinned slyly. “How about a movie?” I was confused. “What’s open this late?” They snickered, pulling out a phone and showing me a dimly lit video. “Not a normal movie, man,” one of them whispered conspiratorially. “We’re talking about a private screening. They have attendants who show you how to watch the movie. That’s where the real fun is.” The video was dark, but I could make out a young woman in a uniform, kneeling on a plush carpet. She was smoothing out her wrinkled skirt and adjusting a loose bow on her collar. Before the clip ended, she looked at the camera, bowed with a practiced smile and said, “If you were satisfied with your experience, please leave a five-star review. I hope to see you again soon, sir.” My colleagues were howling with laughter. “This is how adults watch movies, man. Way better than some multiplex.” “And the soundproofing is top-notch,” another added. “Once that door closes, who knows what you’re really watching in there?” At the time, I’d just shaken my head and called them idiots. But now, seeing Stella in this state, a cold, unnameable feeling crept up my spine. When we got home, she went straight to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed with a series of low moans. I pulled the duvet over her, wanting to make her comfortable. But as I leaned in to tuck her in, a faint, rhythmic buzzing sound started, seeming to come from directly beneath her. 2 “Can you wash my clothes for me, babe?” Stella mumbled, struggling to pull her top off before tossing it at me and sinking back into the pillows. Maybe it was my imagination, but as she moved closer, the buzzing seemed to grow louder. I kept my voice even. “What about the skirt? Should I take it off for you?” “No, babe, it’s fine. The skirt’s not dirty.” She shot up, stopping me as I reached for the waistband, and offered a weak, placating smile. “Just let me rest for a bit, okay? Last night was insane. The customers just kept coming, one after another. No breaks.” She sighed dramatically. “I could barely stand by the time I clocked out…” I watched the forced smile on her face, and a dull ache started in my chest. Seven years. We were supposed to be getting married. I didn’t want to doubt her. I closed my eyes for a second, then forced a smile of my own. “Okay. You get some rest. I’ll do the laundry.” As I went to toss her top into the washing machine, my fingers brushed against something sticky and damp on the fabric. I paused, my blood running cold. I turned the shirt inside out. A patch on the back was soaked with a strange fluid. A siren went off in my head. My hand holding the shirt began to tremble. Stella had complained before that the owner of Eclipse was a cheapskate who refused to run the air conditioning, even in the summer. She said she was always drenched in sweat by the end of her shift. It was why she always insisted on showering and doing laundry the second she got home, no matter how exhausted she was. But this… I never knew this was the kind of “sweat” she was talking about. My eyes scanned the wrinkled top, and the video my colleague had shown me flashed through my mind. The attendant in the video, her uniform was wrinkled too, though not as badly as Stella’s. And his words echoed in my ears: Once that door closes, who knows what you’re really watching in there? The answer was staring me right in the face. But I couldn’t accept it. Four years of college sweethearts, three years of building a life together after graduation. We were on the verge of marriage. Both our families adored each other. If it weren’t for this promotion I’d been working my ass off for, we’d already be husband and wife. I remembered our first kiss, how it tasted of strawberry candy. Stella had been trying to be smooth, mimicking a scene from a movie we’d watched. She’d popped a Jolly Rancher in her mouth before leaning in. “There,” she’d whispered, her cheeks flushed. “Now every time you taste strawberry, you’ll think of me.” She’d tried to act so cool and confident, but her ears were bright red as she’d turned and practically run away. That sweet, shy girl… how could she possibly be involved in something like this? “Babe? Is the laundry done yet?” Stella’s voice, lazy and satisfied, pulled me from my thoughts. She’d changed into her pajamas and was standing in the doorway. With a completely straight face, she took the balled-up skirt from her hand and tossed it into the machine with the top I was still holding. “My mom called earlier,” she said, wrapping her arms around me from behind, her tone suddenly shy. “She wants us over for dinner this weekend.” She rested her chin on my shoulder. “She asked when we were planning on getting married and having kids. I told her we’ve been… practicing a lot lately, and that we wouldn’t let her down.” My mouth was dry. I managed a quiet, “Okay.” Practicing? With who? The customers? A bitter cold spread through my chest, and a sardonic smile touched my lips. We hadn’t slept together in over a year.

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Lately, something has been off with my wife. I’d come home to find her lying on the bed, face flushed, her body rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, the sound of soft, shallow breaths filling the quiet of the room. Every time I asked, she was evasive. She’d murmur something about just finishing her yoga routine before slipping into the bathroom to shower. The knot of suspicion in my gut tightened with each passing day. I started searching the house while she was in the shower, my heart pounding against my ribs. But I never found him. There was no trace of the phantom lover I was so sure existed. Did he leave just before I got home? That had to be it. Stella could track my car’s location on her phone. Of course. The bastard was clearing out just minutes before I pulled into the driveway. This Wednesday, I took a half-day off. I left my car at the office and took a cab, determined to finally catch them in the act. 1 The entire ride home, my heart hammered a frantic, sickening beat against my chest. My mind was a cinema of betrayal, playing and replaying scenes of Stella tangled in the arms of another man. I had the driver drop me at the corner. I crept to my own front door like a thief, pressing my ear against the wood. And there it was. The sound I’d been dreading. A woman’s breathless moans, the kind of sound that was pure, unadulterated ecstasy. A hot wave of rage washed over me, obliterating all reason. I punched in the security code, threw the door open, and charged inside—only to find Stella in the living room, alone, moving through a yoga pose on her mat. I didn’t stop. I stormed through the house, a man possessed, flinging open closet doors, checking under beds. I even scanned the narrow ledge outside the window where the AC unit sat. Nothing. No one. Stella, seeing the frantic look in my eyes, rushed over to me, her voice a sweet, confused melody. “Ethan? What’s wrong? What are you looking for?” “That sound! I heard you from the door! What the hell were you doing in here?” I yelled, my voice raw with the fury of a man who couldn’t find the evidence he was desperate to discover. Her expression shifted from confusion to a deep, wounded hurt. Her perfect, cherry-pink lips trembled, and fat tears began to spill from her eyes, tracing paths down her cheeks. She looked so utterly broken that it almost took my breath away. She unlocked her phone and handed it to me. “This,” she whispered. On the screen, a Japanese porn film was playing. The sounds were so explicit I felt a blush creep up my neck. “Why are you watching this in the middle of the day?” My anger began to recede, replaced by a dull throb of embarrassment. “The other night… you seemed so distant,” she said, her voice barely audible. “You weren’t… interested in me. I thought, maybe if I learned a few new things… I could make it more exciting for us.” It all clicked into place. The fire in my veins turned from rage to a different kind of heat. I looked at her—this beautiful, vulnerable woman, her body lean and toned from her workout, her eyes full of a desperate need to please me—and my anger dissolved completely. I pulled her down onto the yoga mat, my guilt and suspicion consumed by a sudden, overwhelming desire. Afterward, as she lay curled in my arms, looking like a dew-kissed flower, a wave of shame washed over me. I opened my banking app and transferred thirty thousand dollars into her account. She squealed with delight and covered my face in kisses. 2 I’m a vice president at a publicly-traded firm. As long as my wife is happy, that kind of money is nothing to me. Stella used to be the receptionist at my company. Young, gorgeous, with a body that could stop traffic. I was obsessed with her from the moment I saw her. After a year of relentless pursuit, she finally agreed to marry me and become a full-time wife. Lately, I’d been putting in long hours at work, and I’ll admit, our sex life had suffered. I’m also seven years older than her, a fact that feeds a constant, low-grade fear in the back of my mind that she’ll one day leave me for someone younger. But after this whole misunderstanding, that fear vanished. I was sure, deep in my bones, that Stella would never betray me. Until a month later. I was working late, bored, and scrolling through some online forums. A thread with a shocking title caught my eye: “Giving My Cuckold Husband Someone Else’s Baby.” I clicked on it. It was a cesspool of pixelated, obscene photos and posts that read like mission logs. “Today’s Task: Make Master come three times, let the hubbie have one. Let’s see whose lottery ticket hits next month.” “Today’s Task: Let Master have his fun twice, then make the hubbie do the dishes tonight.” “Today’s Task: Following Master’s orders. Taking the little devil out to dinner with the hubbie. Must not get caught.” The posts were accompanied by selfies from various housewives, the most explicit parts blurred out. The sheer depravity of it all made my stomach churn. I slammed my laptop shut. A familiar panic seized me. I quickly opened the security app on my phone. The truth is, after the last incident, I’d secretly installed hidden cameras in the house. For a month, they’d shown me nothing but a perfect wife: Stella binge-watching shows, doing chores, cooking my meals. She was the picture of domestic bliss, and my spying felt increasingly pathetic and sordid. But tonight, when I opened the live feed, the house was empty. No sign of her in the living room or the bedroom. Was she in the shower? Just as I was about to call her, a man’s voice echoed through my phone’s speaker. “Feel good? Was I good this time?” It was followed by a woman’s sharp, ecstatic gasp. Of course. The cameras had blind spots. The front door and the area right around the couch. Those two bastards. This time, I had them. 3 I grabbed a cab, my mind racing. My office was close to home; I was there in under twenty minutes. I burst through the door and found Stella lounging on the sofa, a face mask on, casually watching a TV show. Impossible. The sounds I heard on the feed… they were just getting started. There’s no way they could have finished that quickly. Stella looked up at me, her expression a mask of pure confusion. She blinked her wide, innocent eyes. “Ethan, you’re home! I thought you were pulling an all-nighter.” I scanned the living room. The sofa was pristine, not a single cushion out of place, no sign of a frantic struggle or a passionate encounter. Stella was fully dressed, her demeanor calm. There was no hint of deception. But I heard what I heard. The filthy sounds were burned into my memory. This constant back-and-forth was fraying my nerves, turning my mind into a battlefield of suspicion and doubt. My work was suffering. I was making stupid mistakes. But looking at Stella, so perfectly composed, the rage simmering inside me had nowhere to go. It was like punching at smoke. “Ethan? Why are you ignoring me?” She rose from the couch and coiled around me like a beautiful, slender snake. I didn’t answer. I pushed her away, the frustration too much to bear, and walked out, heading back to the office. I found Kevin, one of our IT guys, still at his desk. He was a wizard with anything network-related. “Kev, can I ask you something?” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Mr. Hayes, of course.” He stood up respectfully. “Why would a home security camera suddenly start picking up… strange noises?” “Oh, that? It happens sometimes. Signal interference, network cross-chatter. You can get audio bleed from a neighbor’s baby monitor, or even from another Wi-Fi network if the channels overlap. It’s a weird glitch, but it’s not uncommon.” He gave me a long, technical explanation that slowly untangled the knot of anxiety in my chest. I thanked him and went back to my office. My phone was lit up with missed calls and a string of texts from Stella. “Ethan, what’s wrong?” “You seemed really off.” “Are you okay? Is work stressing you out?” “I can give you a massage when you get home tomorrow?” “Honey, why aren’t you picking up?” Reading her words, I felt like a complete bastard. A wave of self-loathing washed over me. Here was this loving, devoted woman, and I was treating her like a criminal, my mind poisoned by paranoia. I texted her back, lying that I’d forgotten a file and was in too much of a rush to talk. I promised to make it up to her. 4 The next day, I took the day off and took Stella on a shopping spree to make amends. She wore a slip dress of emerald green silk that clung to every curve. Every person we passed, man or woman, turned to look. She was, without question, a work of art. We walked into the Louis Vuitton store, and she immediately collided with a woman holding a little girl’s hand. “Watch where you’re going,” Stella snapped. I noticed her shift her weight uncomfortably, her posture suddenly stiff. “Daddy!” a small, familiar voice cried out, and a little girl launched herself into my arms. It was my ex-wife, Amelia, with our daughter, Lily. Yes, I was married when I started chasing Stella. She wouldn’t agree to be with me until I was divorced. I was so bewitched by her that I did everything I could to force Amelia into a separation, even giving up primary custody of my own daughter. I adored Lily, so I still saw her secretly whenever I could. In her innocent world, her parents weren’t divorced; we were just living apart for a little while. I looked at Amelia and barely recognized her. Before the divorce, Amelia was a full-time mom who wrote novels in her spare time. After Lily was born, she’d struggled with her weight and never seemed to find the time for herself. She breastfed Lily until she was three because our daughter had a sensitive stomach, and she refused to diet for fear of affecting her milk. She’d become… frumpy. Overweight, tired-looking. I grew to resent her for it. The woman standing before me now was a different person entirely. She was dressed in a chic, tailored LV suit, holding a matching handbag. Her skin was flawless, her figure was slender and strong, and her hair fell in expensive-looking waves. She exuded an aura of quiet power. To get the divorce, I’d given Amelia two-thirds of my assets—a settlement of nearly twenty million dollars. It looked like she was putting it to good use. “Ethan, control your little girlfriend,” Amelia said, her voice dripping with ice as she lifted Lily from my arms. “Before she makes a scene.” “Who are you calling a dog!” Stella shrieked, lunging forward, though her movements seemed strangely restrained. “Ethan, she’s attacking me!” Stella turned to me, her eyes wide with fabricated victimhood. “Amelia, for God’s sake, can you just be civil?” I snapped at my ex-wife. “Oh, the bitch is hurt, so the stud comes running,” Amelia scoffed, her eyes filled with a disdain that cut me to the quick. That was it for Stella. She flew at Amelia, grabbing a fistful of her hair. The movement was so abrupt that something small and pink fell from under her dress and skittered across the polished floor. Before I could get a good look at it, Stella had snatched it up and stuffed it into her purse. In that split second of distraction, Amelia slapped Stella hard across the face. Stella tried to retaliate, but the store manager had already summoned security. They grabbed Stella and me, escorting us firmly toward the exit. Amelia, however, was treated with the utmost deference and invited into a private lounge. Stella’s humiliation turned to rage. “She started it! Why are you kicking us out? I was going to buy a ten-thousand-dollar bag today! What could she possibly afford? You’re all just a bunch of snobs!” The manager gave Stella a withering look. “Ma’am, that woman is one of our V.I.C.s. Her total spending at this boutique has exceeded two million dollars.” Stella froze. I froze. Two million? I’d only given her twenty. Had she gone insane and spent it all on handbags? Or had she found someone else? A billionaire? The drive home was a blur. Stella was sobbing hysterically, demanding to know how much money I’d really given Amelia, accusing me of hiding assets from her.

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Just before college graduation, I asked my girlfriend a half-joking question. “What if my family went bankrupt? Owed a million dollars? Would you still marry me?” The light in her eyes flickered out. She made a flimsy excuse and left. The next day, she called me to a café to end things. “I asked around,” she said, her voice hard. “People are calling about your debts. You’re drowning, and you want to pull me under with you? In your dreams.” “We’re done. And I want half a million dollars. That’s my price.” Her best friend, sitting beside her, added a sympathetic hiss. “Don’t blame her, Ethan. If you really loved her, you wouldn’t want her to suffer, would you?” I looked at the scene they’d so carefully staged, and I almost laughed. Who told them it was my family in debt? It was her father’s loan shark. And his calls were coming to my house. 1 In a sterile downtown coffee shop, Isabelle had shed every last bit of the woman I thought I knew. Her voice, usually soft and melodic, was a raw, ugly thing. “Ethan! Are you deaf?” she shrieked, her voice turning heads at nearby tables. “Five hundred thousand dollars! Not a penny less! That’s what you owe me for the years I wasted on you! You will pay it!” I just stared at her, silent. Four years. I thought what we had was unbreakable. Turns out, it couldn’t even withstand the phantom menace of money. Our entire relationship, evaporated by a single, hypothetical question. Before I could even form a response, she leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Don’t even think about walking out of here until I get what I’m owed.” Just then, my phone vibrated violently on the table. The caller ID flashed: Sharon Vickers. Isabelle’s mother. I hit the speakerphone button. The voice that came through was even more shrill than her daughter’s, stripped of the sugary sweetness she usually reserved for me. “Ethan! Izzy told you, right?” “Let me be clear. Our Isabelle’s time is not free! You’re not just walking away after all these years!” “I know you have that condo in your name. Sell it. Get the money and give our Izzy her severance package!” The sheer, unadulterated entitlement of it all left me speechless. A hot surge of anger shot up my spine. To keep them from worrying, the only people who knew about the success of my startup were my parents and my best friend, Mark. To the world, and to Isabelle, I was just a regular guy with a decent nine-to-five. That condo—the one she was demanding I liquidate—I’d bought it with my own money. Paid in full. It was meant to be our first home together after we got married. Now, it was just an asset to be stripped. And the supposed million-dollar debt? A complete fabrication. A few days ago, a text message had come to my work phone. It was a collections notice, filled with graphic threats of broken limbs. The debtor wasn’t me. It was Richard Vickers. Isabelle’s father. He had forged my company’s corporate seal and used it to get a massive loan from a shark. One million dollars, principal. With the vig, God only knew what it was now. Isabelle and her mother had clearly gotten wind of the debt collectors and jumped to the conclusion that my business had failed, that I was the one facing financial ruin. My little joke had simply been a test to see how they’d react. The results were… clarifying. “Our Izzy’s youth is priceless! You have to pay!” Sharon’s voice grated through the phone’s speaker. I forced down the fury churning in my gut, carefully lacing my voice with exhaustion and defeat. “You’re right, Sharon. I understand.” “It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry for what I’ve put Izzy through.” “I’ll go home and get the money together right now. We can meet and settle this in person, okay?” Hearing me fold, Sharon’s tone instantly softened. “Well, it’s about time. At least you have some decency left.” “Be at our house. Seven o’clock. Bring the money and the settlement papers.” The call ended. I looked up at Isabelle. A triumphant smirk played on her lips, but her eyes were filled with nothing but contempt. “Glad you finally see things clearly,” she said. I nodded slowly and walked out of the coffee shop. The moment the door closed behind me, I dialed Mark. “Mark, I need a favor.” “I need everything you can find on a loan Richard Vickers took out using my company’s name. I need ironclad proof he signed the papers.” “And one more thing. I need you to put together a little gift package for me. I’m going to see my future in-laws tonight.” Mark’s voice was calm and steady on the other end. “Consider it done.” I hung up. I couldn’t wait to see just how far they were willing to take this performance. 2 At seven o’clock sharp, I was standing on the Vickers’ doorstep. The door was opened by Isabelle’s best friend, Jenna. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, her disdain practically dripping from her eyelashes. “Oh, you actually showed up. You got the money?” I ignored her and walked straight into the living room. The Vickers clan was assembled on the couch like a royal tribunal. On the coffee table in front of them was a sea of new luxury handbags and jewelry boxes, the price tags still attached. It seemed they’d already started spending my “severance.” Sharon’s face fell when she saw my empty hands. “Ethan. Where is the money?” She slid a document across the table. The title was printed in an obnoxious, bold font: SEPARATION AND COMPENSATION AGREEMENT. In cold, hard print, it stipulated that I was to pay Isabelle a one-time lump sum of five hundred thousand dollars for “emotional distress and wasted time.” Rick, Isabelle’s father, sat beside her, sighing dramatically, his brow furrowed with fake concern. “Ethan, son, I hate to say it, but how did you let your business get this bad? Izzy’s really had a rough time, sticking by you.” Isabelle’s eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying for hours. “Ethan, darling, I didn’t want it to come to this,” she whispered, her voice catching. “But I can’t chain my future to a failure. My parents worked so hard to give me everything. I can’t let them suffer because of your mistakes.” She delivered the lines with such conviction, she almost seemed to believe she was the victim. Jenna chimed in from the side, her voice dripping with venom. “Izzy is just too nice. If it were me, I’d be asking for a lot more than five hundred thousand.” “I mean, a grown man who can’t even support himself, dragging a woman down with him? Pathetic. You should be grateful she’s letting you off this easy.” My gaze drifted from their faces to Rick’s wrist. He was wearing a limited-edition Patek Philippe. I recognized it. I’d seen the same model at an auction last month. It went for just under a million dollars. So that’s where the loan money went. Seeing me hesitate, Sharon grew impatient. She tapped a manicured finger on the agreement. “Sign it! Sign it, and go get the money!” “Oh, and that BMW of yours. You’ll sign the title over to Izzy. Think of it as a little bonus.” “Don’t tell me you don’t have it. The car is still in your name, isn’t it?” Unbelievable. This wasn’t a breakup settlement. This was a shakedown. They wanted to bleed me dry. I kept my mask on, letting my face crumple into a mask of anguish and despair. “Sharon… Izzy…” I stammered. “The company… it’s gone. It’s all gone. I don’t have fifty thousand, let alone five hundred thousand.” “I have nothing left. Not a single penny.” As the words left my mouth, I saw it. A flicker of pure, animal panic in Rick’s eyes. He was scared. He was terrified that if I couldn’t pay, the fire he started would finally burn its way back to him. Oh, this was getting good. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they finally learned the truth. It was going to be spectacular. 3 “No money?” Sharon’s lips curled into a vicious sneer. “You have no money? What about your parents?” “I remember Izzy telling me they have that old house in the city. It’s got to be worth two, maybe three million by now!” “You’re their only son. The house is going to be yours eventually anyway. What’s the big deal about selling it now to fix your mess?” I stared at her, my mind reeling. Did she really just suggest that I go to my parents and demand they sell the home they’d spent their entire lives paying for—their nest egg, their only security—just to fund her daughter’s shopping sprees? Was she even human? I looked at Isabelle, desperately searching for a sign of protest, a flicker of shame. There was none. She nodded, her expression earnest. “Ethan, Mom’s right,” she said softly. “I’m sure your parents want me to be happy and secure, right? Just… for my sake. Go talk to them. I know they’ll understand.” In that moment, whatever was left of my affection for her finally, irrevocably, died. My parents were my line in the sand. No one crossed it. When my mother was in the hospital last year, I’d begged Isabelle to come with me, just for an hour. She’d claimed she already had plans to go shopping with Jenna. She never came. Not once. And now she was sitting here, looking me in the eye while casually plotting to liquidate my parents’ retirement. My voice was ice. “My mother was in the hospital after her surgery. You never visited. Not once. Do you remember that?” The color drained from Isabelle’s face. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Rick, sensing the shift in the room, quickly jumped in to play peacemaker. “Hey, hey, let’s not bring up old stuff. We’re all family here. What’s important is solving the problem at hand. We need to figure out how to pay off this debt.” I just laughed, a cold, empty sound. Sharon, thinking my silence was a sign of capitulation, decided to lay all her cards on the table. “Alright, Ethan, let me spell it out for you,” she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “You give us the half-million today. Your company is bankrupt, right? Perfect. You give us the cash, and then you can declare personal bankruptcy.” “That way, all your other debts get wiped out, and our Isabelle has a nice little nest egg to start her new life! It’s the perfect plan!” My entire worldview tilted on its axis. They wanted to use my parents’ life savings to secure their daughter’s future, while simultaneously having me declare bankruptcy to make her father’s loan shark debt disappear. I looked at the three of them, at their greedy, expectant faces, and I couldn’t find a word in the English language to describe the profound ugliness I was witnessing. 4 I stared at the three of them, a wave of nausea washing over me. Slowly, I leaned back against the sofa cushions. The desperate, defeated look on my face began to melt away, replaced by a cold, thin smile. “And what if I don’t?” The atmosphere in the room froze. Jenna was the first to snap. She leaped to her feet, pointing a finger at my face. “Don’t you dare try to back out of this, Ethan! You think you can just walk away?” “I’m warning you, if you don’t pay up, we will send a full account of how you ran your company into the ground and abandoned your pregnant girlfriend to every single person in your industry! We’ll post it everywhere! You’ll be ruined! No one will ever hire you again!” Sharon held up her phone, the screen glowing with a pre-written social media post. The headline read: Heartbreak and Betrayal: My Four Years with a Deadbeat Loser Who Left My Daughter with Nothing! The post itself was a masterpiece of fiction, painting me as a manipulative, social-climbing monster who had used her daughter and then tossed her aside. Their plan was to destroy me with public opinion. Isabelle, seeing me “cornered,” finally dropped her victim act. She turned to Jenna, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “The moment the money comes through, I’m going to the dealership and buying that MINI I wanted!” Jenna rushed to her side, and the two of them began plotting. “Totally! And then a month in Europe to de-stress.” “Yes! I’m going to buy so many bags in Paris, and that necklace we saw…” “Izzy, your new life is finally beginning!” They chattered on, divvying up my money as if I wasn’t even in the room. The sight of it was physically sickening. Sharon, seeing that I hadn’t moved, shot me a venomous look. She lunged forward and snatched my phone from my hand. She scrolled through my contacts, quickly finding my dad’s number. “Stop wasting time! Call them now!” she barked, shoving the phone back into my face. “Tell your parents you got some girl pregnant and you need money for an abortion! They’ll have to pay!” I froze. “Sharon, that’s… that’s not right.” “What choice do you have?” she snapped. “Your parents adore you. They’ll do anything to avoid a scandal. Tell them the girl wants a huge settlement. They’ll believe it.” Isabelle nodded eagerly. “She’s right, Ethan. Your parents love you so much. They’ll do anything to protect your reputation.” I looked from mother to daughter, a new level of fury building inside me. What were these creatures made of? “Make the call!” Sharon urged. “Tell them you need half a million, wired immediately!” Jenna chimed in, “Yeah, it’s going to be your money eventually anyway. What’s the big deal?” Just then, a frantic ringing cut through the tension. It was Rick’s phone. He fumbled it out of his pocket. When he saw the name on the screen—RHINO—his face went as white as a sheet. He shot a panicked look at us, scrambled to his feet, and stumbled out onto the balcony. “Hello… Rhino…” his voice trembled. “The money… I’m working on it… Just give me a couple more days…” I knew it was time. I stood up slowly and straightened my jacket. Sharon and Isabelle were still glaring at me, their eyes filled with menace. I just smiled at them. “You want your money so badly? Fine.” I took out my own phone, ignoring their confused looks, and pulled up a video file. Then, I turned the screen toward them. “But first, let’s watch a little movie.”

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He was at the college reunion, a success story with a beautiful girlfriend on his arm. She said, “If you hadn’t let go back then, you’d be Mrs. Prescott right now.” He sat across from me, his arm around his girlfriend, his expression cool. “That’s all in the past.” The crowd, sensing drama, started to hoot and holler. Under his gaze, I quietly covered the scar on my wrist and forced a smile. “That’s right. We… we have nothing to do with each other anymore.” 1 “I remember it was Audrey who did the breaking up, right?” While his girlfriend was in the restroom, the gossip started to fly. Audrey. That’s me. Elliot Prescott sat across the table, a faint smile on his lips, but his eyes were glacial. This was the first time we’d seen each other in the six years since the breakup. It felt like an ambush. I only came because the reunion organizer said Elliot wasn’t coming. I never expected to see him here. The Elliot of today was the man everyone expected him to become: accomplished, a celebrated young entrepreneur, an Ivy League grad who’d made a fortune. He wore a tailored suit, his features sharp and handsome. The watch on his wrist alone was worth more than my car. Everyone in the room fawned over him, hanging on his every word. And then there was me. A shadow of my former self. “It’s true. She ended it.” Elliot’s voice was calm, answering their unspoken question. You could almost hear the gears turning in their heads, everyone writing their own version of the story. The consensus was obvious: I was a gold digger who couldn’t handle the struggle. I’d bet on the wrong horse and lost everything. “Audrey, I heard that guy you left him for ended up in prison, right?” “And left you with all his debt? You’re not here to hit us up for money, are you?” Through the cascade of snide remarks, Elliot’s deep, quiet eyes remained fixed on me. He said nothing. I offered a strained laugh, giving no answer. The door swung open and his girlfriend, Isabelle, returned. Sensing the strange atmosphere, she smiled. “What did I miss?” The silence from Elliot vanished. He took her hand, his voice softening. “Nothing. Just catching up.” She settled gracefully into her seat, her gaze landing on me. A dimple appeared at the corner of her smiling mouth. “Elliot’s told me about you. If you hadn’t let go back then, you’d be Mrs. Prescott right now.” Gleams of schadenfreude appeared in more than a few eyes around the table. Back in college, my family was prominent. Everywhere I went, I was the center of attention. That kind of envy doesn’t fade with time; years later, it just becomes a reason for them to kick you when you’re down. Elliot broke the suffocating silence, his voice cool and final. “That’s all in the past.” The table went quiet. They understood the man at the head of the table didn’t want to continue the conversation, so they quickly changed the subject. Isabelle raised her glass to me. “Thank you for letting him go. You have to promise you’ll come to our wedding.” I silently covered the scar on my wrist, my voice wooden. “Congratulations.” 2 “Why didn’t you just tell him the truth?” On the phone, my best friend Maya was practically vibrating with indignation on my behalf. The reunion ended early. I stood in the biting wind, my coat wrapped tight around me, watching my breath turn to smoke. “He has a girlfriend.” The other end of the line went silent for a beat. “A girlfriend?” Maya’s voice was laced with disbelief. “Mmmhmm.” Groups of two and three drifted away from the restaurant. The streetlights cast a shattered-glass glow on the fresh layer of snow. “But you finally saw him. After you’ve worked so hard for so long—” “Maya, nobody waits forever.” Some things, if you don’t say them in the moment, are pointless to say later. They just leave a sour taste in everyone’s mouth. The wind made my eyes sting and I blinked against the burn. “I’m giving up.” Even after all these years of fighting my way out of the mud, trying to find the most dignified way to see him again… it was too late. “Okay,” she said softly. “Just come home.” The pre-Christmas chill had dropped the temperature below freezing. Getting a rideshare was impossible. I stood there for just a few minutes before my hands went numb. My phone screen glowed: Finding your ride. The sharp clack-clack of heels on pavement approached from behind, followed by a woman’s melodic voice. “Elliot, the snow is so beautiful.” “It’s cold out here. Go wait in the car, I’ll be right there.” Elliot’s voice was unmistakable. “Don’t be long.” As the woman passed me, she shot me a look loaded with meaning. She walked to a black sedan parked a few feet away and pulled open the door. The movement was perfectly calculated to show off the bracelet on her wrist, a flash of diamonds that seared my eyes. It was the Prescott family heirloom. It used to be on my wrist. When we broke up, I had a friend return it to him. So, she wasn’t just his girlfriend. She was his fiancée. The crowd had thinned until it was just the two of us. My car still hadn’t arrived. Elliot stood behind me, not saying a word. We were two silent figures under a streetlight, our shadows overlapping on the snow. My mind drifted back to the night we broke up. Elliot had been in a car accident on his way to see me. His best friend had called, his voice raw with anger. “Elliot’s in the hospital.” “Is it life-threatening?” “So you won’t come if it’s not?” “Please, just take care of him.” “Audrey, he got the London scholarship. He’s going to make it, you know he is. Why couldn’t you wait? Are you that desperate for money? After everything he’s done for you, things you could never repay in a hundred lifetimes, have you forgotten all of it?” He was practically screaming at me through the phone, one step away from calling me a heartless bitch. Then, the phone was snatched away and slammed down. You could say I abandoned him. It was only natural that he hated me. “How much do you owe?” Elliot’s cold voice pulled me from my thoughts. “It has nothing to do with you.” I sucked in a breath of frigid air. It scraped against my throat, raw from the wine, and I burst into a fit of coughing. It felt like my windpipe was tearing apart. I bent over, clutching the lamppost for support as the wine churned in my stomach. The coughing forced tears from my eyes. Elliot stood beside me, watching impassively. A car finally pulled up. The driver leaned over from the inside. “Ride for The Atherton Estates?” “Yes.” I pushed myself up from my knees, took a breath, and reached for the door. A hand clamped around my arm, yanking me back. I stumbled into Elliot’s chest. “What are you doing there?” he demanded. The Atherton Estates was where the city’s old money lived. They didn’t just let anyone through the gates. I tried to shove his hand away, but he caught my wrist, his grip like iron. The heat of his skin burned straight through to my heart. I struggled again, but it was useless. I looked up at his face, dark and unreadable in the dim light. “What is it you want to say, Mr. Prescott?” His lips thinned into a hard line, his black eyes deep and still, betraying nothing. The wind howled, whipping my hair across my face. I pulled my lips into a smirk, voicing the thought I knew was in his head. “You think I’m making money on my back, don’t you? Just like everyone else.” “Fifty thousand a month. Is that enough?” Elliot’s voice cut through mine, sharp and cold. “What are you talking about?” A sneer finally touched his lips. “You need money, don’t you? Fifty thousand. A hundred. Name your price.” My hand flew up. The sharp crack of the slap echoed in the night air. A perfect red handprint bloomed on his cheek. In the distance, I heard a woman’s gasp. The car door opened and Isabelle rushed out. “Live your life, Elliot. And stay out of mine.” I left him with those words and got in the car. 3 “You hit him?” Maya handed me a mug of hot water. “Yeah. He offered to make me his mistress.” I curled up on the sofa, trying to breathe through the waves of pain cramping my stomach, and slowly sipped the water. A minute later, I bolted for the bathroom and threw it all up. Maya rubbed my back. “You can’t drink when your stomach is this bad.” I gasped for air, rinsing my mouth and wiping the water from my lips. My esophagus burned. “Was it worth it? Loving him for all those years?” I met my own eyes in the mirror. My lashes were wet, my dark hair stuck to my forehead, my face pale. Maya’s grumbling seemed to come from far away, muffled and indistinct. “If you hadn’t been so ruthless and broken up with him, he wouldn’t be where he is today…” My thoughts turned to Isabelle. She had a brightness about her, a radiance that I remembered once having myself, a long, long time ago. But I had fallen too hard, and by the time I managed to crawl out of the gutter, everything had changed. After Maya finished her housekeeping shift at the Atherton Estates, we walked hand in hand back to our small apartment. My phone rang. It was Elliot’s best friend, Ryan. “Audrey, if you’re in trouble, I can get you a job.” I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “They’re getting married next month. Isabelle is a good person, her family’s well off. You should…” “I won’t bother him again. You don’t have to worry.” He paused, then offered a lame explanation. “We just want Elliot to be happy.” “I know.” Every single one of our old friends had, without exception, sided with Elliot. When I hung up, Maya’s eyes were red. “They don’t know anything.” “It doesn’t matter.” Since I had to stay in town for a while, I found a job not far from our apartment. During the interview, the HR manager asked hesitantly, “It says here you have a history of depression?” “That was a long time ago. I’m fine now. I have a doctor’s note to prove it.” Several other companies had rejected me during the background check because of it. This company was smaller, and that same evening, I got a call with a job offer. I thought the reunion would be the last time I ever saw Elliot. I was wrong. Three days later, he appeared at my new company. He was my new boss. And my desk was moved to the spot right outside his office door. “I refuse.” “Fine.” Elliot didn’t even look up from his papers. “Submit your resignation to HR.” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “You’re firing me because I won’t move my desk?” His pen stopped moving. He finally graced me with his attention. “I’m merely providing you with an option. Or did you think I was after something?” His words caught in my throat. I thought of Maya arguing with our landlord last night over a small rent increase, and I forced a smile. “Of course not, Mr. Prescott. You’re a man of integrity.” Elliot gave a slight nod. “Thank you. Close the door on your way out. And turn your chair so it faces away from my office. I don’t want to look at your face.” “…” The days that followed passed with almost no interaction between us. A week later, the company held a team-building dinner. As the new girl, I was an easy target for round after round of drinks. “Come on, Audrey, if you don’t drink, it might come out of your paycheck.” “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home if you get too drunk. We’re all women here, what’s there to be afraid of?” My manager smiled encouragingly. Amid the jeers of the others, I downed my last glass of the night and collapsed onto the table, unconscious. The next morning, I woke up in a king-sized bed. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, making it impossible to open my eyes. I pushed myself up, and the duvet slipped down, revealing that I was wearing a soft hotel bathrobe. I froze for a second, then got up and walked out of the bedroom. In the spacious living room, Elliot sat with his legs crossed, reading the morning paper. He was also wearing a hotel robe. When he saw me, he lifted his eyes and gave me a lazy glance. “You’re awake. Breakfast is on the table. Eat something and then go back to sleep.” A cold dread washed over me. My face went white. “Did we…?” Elliot tossed the paper onto the coffee table. He tugged his robe open slightly, revealing an angry-looking mark on his collarbone. “Unfortunately for you, you were the one who initiated it.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. My memory of the night was a complete blank. “That’s impossible.” Elliot placed a contract in front of me. My thumbprint was stamped on the bottom. The text was simple: I would be his lover, and he would pay me one hundred thousand dollars a month. “There’s no way I signed this…” “Really?” Elliot let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Are you sure about that?” Faced with his steady, unnervingly calm gaze, my mouth opened, but no words came out. He ignored my panic and produced a small digital recorder. “I accidentally recorded a little monologue of yours last night. Care to hear your own filthy thoughts, Audrey?” A violent shiver ran through me. I was plunged into an icy bath of shame. To have those thoughts was one thing; to have them spoken aloud, recorded, and held as evidence against me felt like a crime. Elliot’s eyes were hooded, his expression unreadable. “Lusting after an engaged man… tsk, tsk. What do you think would happen if I played this for them, Audrey?” My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Are you doing this for revenge?” “Yes,” he answered simply. “You never wanted me to have an easy life. Why should I grant you one?” “You have two choices.” “Either you fulfill the contract, or I release this recording to the world.” The ticking of the clock on the wall echoed in my ears, each tick a hammer blow against my eardrum. My lips were dry and cracked. I looked up at him, my voice numb. “Then release it.” Under his cold, hard stare, I spoke again, my voice flat. “Elliot, I will not be the other woman.” He stared at me for a long moment, then smiled. “Audrey, who do you think you are?” “Do you really think you have a choice?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385207”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel