The fourth year of my marriage to the bane of my existence. He gets into a car accident, and just like that, he has amnesia. His memory is stuck four years in the past, right before we got married. His eyes land on the wedding band on my finger, and a smirk plays on his lips. “Who’s the unfortunate soul who married you?” 1 I glance at the gauze wrapped around his head and think, Pal, if I told you that soul was you, I’m genuinely afraid you’d hemorrhage on the spot. “Don’t worry about it,” I say, keeping my voice light. “It’s not you.” “When did you get married?” “Four years ago.” “What did I do?” he presses. A saccharine smile spreads across my face. “You gave me a huge wedding gift. Incredibly generous.” He looks down, his brow furrowing. “That’s impossible.” For some reason, a flicker of melancholy crosses his handsome features. So, even with amnesia, he’s still impossible to fool. Given our history, there’s no way he would have given me a generous gift. He would have been more likely to spike the catering with laxatives, turning my wedding into the most humiliating spectacle in New York society. As he sits there, lost in his own confused thoughts, my hand moves faster than my brain. I reach out and pinch his cheek. “Come on. Let’s go home.” “Home?” His eyes suddenly brighten, as if he’s just seen a glimmer of hope. An idea, wicked and wonderful, begins to form in my mind. “Yes,” I say, my tone turning serious. “The Donovan family went bankrupt. Didn’t you know? You’re my manservant now.” The fragile composure of Nathan Donovan, which had been threatening to crack, finally shatters completely. I believe in thoroughness. I call our staff ahead of time to get them on board. I even clear it with his parents, framing it as a necessary deception to let Nathan rest and recover at home, free from the stress of his corporate responsibilities. So, as we’re in the car, he clings to one last shred of hope and calls his father to verify my story. The answer he receives is devastatingly simple. “Son, it’s true. We’re ruined.” He lowers the phone, his eyes rimmed with red. The golden boy of Manhattan, the heir to a dynasty, now reduced to a penniless nobody. After a long silence, he finally speaks, his voice low. “So… what exactly do I do at your house?” “Oh, lots of things,” I say, ticking them off on my fingers. “Laundry, cooking, serving tea… and you’ll be washing my feet.” He turns his head to stare out the window. The sharp, proud line of his jaw seems to soften in his despair, lending him a fragility that is almost poetic. Anyone seeing him now would sigh and say, “That poor, beautiful man.” Inside, I’m about to explode with glee, but I manage to keep a straight face. You have to understand, the normal Nathan Donovan is an arrogant, untouchable ice king. His life has been a gilded path, a non-stop highlight reel of success and privilege. He’s the kind of man who seems to generate his own lightning. I once joked that the only way I’d ever see Nathan Donovan get misty-eyed for me would be at my funeral. The comment got back to him, of course. He’d just smiled that infuriatingly charming smile of his and said, “Don’t flatter yourself. I’d only come to your funeral to set off fireworks.” And now, seeing him this fragile, this broken? It’s a hit of pure, unadulterated bliss. I spend the entire ride home fighting back a triumphant grin. 2 When we get home, I head straight to my study to deal with a mountain of paperwork. Later, when I walk into my bedroom, I stop dead. Nathan is standing there, a basin of… foot-washing water… at his feet. He’s just standing there, looking dazed. Then my eyes catch what he’s holding, and a silent alarm goes off in my head. It’s his pajama shirt. If there’s one thing you can say about him, it’s that he’s loyal to a fault. He’s been wearing that same damn pajama shirt since college, four years into our marriage. He turns to me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “You said you were married. Why are my things in your room?” I smile and walk toward him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer. The tips of his ears turn a bright, tell-tale red. He averts his gaze, flustered. “What… what are you doing?” My fingertip traces a slow circle on his well-defined chest. “My husband,” I purr, “is always abroad. And you know… a woman gets lonely. I have certain… needs.” His eyes go wide with shock. “So… I’m your affair? Your other man?” “Or is ‘plaything’ more accurate?” I suggest, tilting my head. I open my mouth to say more, but I stop when I see his expression. He lowers his gaze, a shadow of despair coloring the corners of his eyes. His voice is barely a whisper. “Plaything… I can live with that.” For a second, watching him stand there so lost and pathetic, I feel a pang of guilt. Maybe I’ve taken this too far. This is Nathan Donovan, a man whose pride is his entire identity. Waking up to find he’s a bankrupt servant who’s also a part-time gigolo… could that be too much of a blow? But in the next instant, all my guilt evaporates as he pulls me into a fierce embrace. His mouth crashes down on mine, a kiss that is both brutal and utterly desperate, a conquest without mercy. 3 He may have lost his memory, but his skills in this department haven’t diminished one bit. He was in the hospital for two weeks, which means I’ve been celibate for two weeks. The moment his lips touch mine, it’s spontaneous combustion. We stumble, tangled together, onto the bed. He’s more ferocious than usual, his intensity pushing me to the edge until I’m begging for him to slow down. In the pale moonlight filtering through the window, his eyes are dark pools of raw desire and possession. He bites my earlobe, his voice a low growl. “Do you like this?” “Yes… just… gentler…” “Me or your husband. Who’s better?” “…” “Answer me.” “Ah…” He bites my neck, not hard, but enough to make me gasp, his movements becoming more urgent, demanding an answer. My mind is a hazy fog. It’s not that I don’t want to answer, it’s that I honestly don’t know how. “Why him? Why wasn’t it me?” That’s the last thing I hear before I drift off to sleep, the question hanging in the air as someone pulls me into a tight, possessive hold. Turning and curling into his arms has become a kind of instinct. I nuzzle against his chin and murmur, “Honey…” The body holding me goes completely, utterly still. The next morning, I wake up and instinctively reach for the person beside me. My hand finds only cold, empty sheets. I’m instantly awake, sitting bolt upright. My heart only settles when I look downstairs and see him, a whirlwind of activity around the dining table. Habit really is a terrifying thing. When I sit down to eat, Nathan and the rest of the staff stand to the side, waiting. I reach out and tug on his arm. “Aren’t you going to eat? You must be starving after last night.” The teasing words slip out effortlessly. He sits down, a slightly awkward expression on his face. Halfway through his meal, he asks, his voice laced with a pained sort of hesitation, “Your husband. Is it… Adam Bell?” I nearly spit out a mouthful of milk. I manage to swallow it down. Seeing him look so dejected, so utterly lost, it’s clear that Adam Bell still holds a significant place in his fractured memory. 4 Adam Bell was, for all intents and purposes, my first love. Back in college, he was a senior assigned to help with freshman orientation. He was the complete opposite of Nathan. Nathan was the boy my parents always used as a benchmark for my own achievements, the rival I’d been pitted against since we were kids. We’d had a massive fight over who got to play the emperor during a game of make-believe, and from that day on, we were sworn enemies. Unfortunately, our lives seemed to run on parallel tracks. We were always in each other’s orbit, competing over everything. I took up piano; his parents bought him a new Steinway. I started oil painting; he took up charcoal sketching. I said I wanted to go to Columbia; he said he could get into Yale. In the end, he scored thirty points higher than me on the SATs and ended up at the exact same university. I called him a ghost I couldn’t shake. He said it was just my bad luck. On campus, we finally went our separate ways. I was quickly swallowed by the anonymous crowds. One day, feeling adrift, I turned and saw him. Nathan’s height and striking features made him stand out like a lighthouse in a storm. I opened my mouth to call his name, but a girl with flushed cheeks beat me to it, shyly asking for his number. He looked down at her, the afternoon sun catching in his eyes, turning them gold. The word died in my throat. I turned away, never knowing if he gave her his number that day. And that was when I met Adam. He smiled at me, a gentle, warm smile. “Hey, freshman. What’s your major?” He was nothing like Nathan. I confessed my feelings for him after a club outing. We went to an amusement park, and I challenged him to an archery game at one of the stalls. They were giving away little stuffed animals as prizes. “I bet I can win more than you,” I declared. As night fell, the park lights softened everyone’s edges. The evening breeze rustled his hair. He just smiled. “You’re definitely going to win in the end.” “Why’s that?” “Because all of my prizes… are going to you.” I froze. It had never occurred to me that someone would so easily concede, just because they knew I wanted to win. That night, I told him how I felt. And he said yes. Adam was a wonderful boyfriend. He’d bring me breakfast, and he never showed up for a date without a bouquet of my favorite flowers. Even when his pre-med schedule had him practically living in the lab, he always found time to surprise me. If it weren’t for what happened later, perhaps Nathan and I would never have ended up together. Thinking of it now, I can’t help but glance at Nathan’s profile beside me. My silence is a form of confirmation. When I don’t deny it, Nathan lets out a quiet, defeated “Mm.” “I see,” he says. I’m so used to seeing him arrogant and defiant. This wounded, submissive version of him is making me soft. “Look, actually, you—” “I know,” he cuts me off, his voice flat. “I’m just the other man. I have no right to ask so many questions.” He turns his head ninety degrees to stare dramatically out the window, the picture of melancholic despair. 5 You have to hand it to Nathan; his ability to adapt is first-class. Barely a week after his name was mentioned, Adam Bell returned from abroad. He was leading a research team that was partnering with my company. When I saw him at the office, the last traces of his collegiate awkwardness were gone, replaced by a polished, mature elegance. He takes a sip of his coffee, his voice as gentle as I remember it. “Evelyn, I’ve always felt I owed you an apology.” Back then, I was too young to understand his choice. When he told me he was leaving the country for a research fellowship, I insisted on going with him. He had looked at me, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Evelyn, I don’t want you to change your life for me.” “Why can’t I go with you, but Rachel can? You two are always in the lab together, and now you’re leaving the country together. Have you fallen for her?!” “Because this is her path, Evelyn,” he’d said patiently. “This was always part of her plan. But it’s not yours. Don’t make this kind of decision for my sake. I can’t bear that weight.” The younger me was stubborn and absolute. “Either let me come with you, or break up with me.” The rest is history. He went across the ocean with the girl who shared his ambitions. For a long time, I hated him for it, convinced he’d left because he’d fallen out of love with me. But looking back, I understand. It’s a heavy burden to carry someone else’s entire life on your shoulders. Adam’s choice wasn’t wrong. I smile and shake my head. “Don’t apologize. I was being childish.” He looks at me, his eyes shining. “Have you been happy all these years?” I nod. His gaze drops to my wedding ring. “I mean… are you truly happy?” My mind flashes to a certain someone at home, who had been clinging to me, begging to come to the office, only to shrink back onto the bed like a scolded puppy when I refused. “You’re right,” he’d said mournfully. “I’m the other man. I can’t be seen in public.” A small smile touches my lips. “Very happy.” A shadow of disappointment crosses Adam’s face before he speaks again. “I heard the news, you know. That you were getting married, just two months after we broke up. I thought about coming back for you, but it was too late. I’ve always felt like I was the one who pushed you into such a rash decision. Maybe…” He pauses, looking up at me, his clear eyes holding a mixture of hope and resolve. “Maybe it’s not too late to fix our mistake.” His words fluster me, and my hand jerks, knocking over my coffee cup. The scalding liquid sears my skin, and I gasp. The back of my hand is instantly red and swollen. Adam shoots to his feet and grabs my hand. Clang. The sound of something metal hitting the floor comes from the doorway. Peeking through the crack of the open door is a devastatingly handsome face. Oh, hell. It’s my amnesiac, unfortunate husband.

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I’ve been reincarnated as the male teacher in a trashy romance novel. My gender: female. My current gender: male. If I’ve committed a crime, let the law punish me. What is this, painless gender reassignment? Now, when I’m tutoring the female lead, she “accidentally” falls into my arms, eyes glistening with tears, the picture of helpless beauty. “Oh… Mr. Hayes… are you alright?” Is this some kind of cosmic joke? Also, you’re currently crushing my crotch. So, no, I’m not alright. Smile. 1 This whole story is a mess, and now I’m the one sane person stuck in the middle of it. In class, I’m explaining to the students that one plus one equals three. They’re all listening intently, applauding from time to time to encourage me. I’m so moved… Not! Me, a girl who barely passed high school math, is now a math teacher in a steamy novel. I feel my soul ascending to a higher plane, like I can see my great-grandma waving at me from the afterlife. Thanks, Gram-Gram, but I’ll pass on the ghostly tea. This is just too ridiculous. Mixed in with the scattered applause are… other sounds. Indescribable ones. “Mmm… don’t, not here.” “They’ll hear us… Mr. Hayes will find out…” “So? Wouldn’t that be more fun? You were practically draped all over him yesterday.” Hold on. How did you see that? I thought your character lived in the building across from hers, not in her house. Do you have binoculars? X-ray vision? You’re a creep. The soft whimpers wash over me like a wave, leaving me stranded and spiritually dead on the shore. “Shhh…” “Who’s better? Him… or me?” You, me, him—everyone’s a winner in the game of life, right? Hello? Am I invisible? I’m right here. I scan the classroom. Okay, it seems every student here is conveniently deaf and blind. Perfect. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun, even if it means my eyes might start bleeding from the second-hand embarrassment. 2 All jokes aside, the moment the bell rings, I decide I need to see the school nurse about my eyes. The handsome nurse, Dr. Cole, has a strange flush creeping up from under his glasses. “Well… you seem fine. Just get some rest. And…” He trails off, hesitating. He glances at me, then down at the eye drops he’s handing over. “You need to… exercise some self-control.” Excuse me? Control what? What did I do now? Behind him, the privacy curtain is pulled almost completely shut. I look down. Next to the leg of the cot are a pair of shoes. Sophie’s shoes. … Oh, no. I am not taking the fall for this. I dare you to look me in the eye and say that again with a straight face. Those are prescription lenses you’re wearing, buddy, not rose-colored glasses. Something is not right here. You, my friend, are acting very suspicious. 3 In a novel where any guy with a halfway decent face is a potential love interest, a handsome school nurse is a prime candidate. So why are you blushing at me? Hard pass. I just escaped a weirdly sapphic subplot; I’m not diving into a gay romance. Maybe you should be more concerned about the girl behind the curtain? If she keeps shaking like that, she’s going to vibrate the entire cot to pieces. 4 Honestly, this is my life now. By day, I’m forced to listen to the live, unabridged audio version of human procreation. By night, I have to star in the movie. As the male lead, no less. The first time, Sophie opens the door and trips, falling into my arms. “Oh, Mr. Hayes! I’m… I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” The second time, she’s walking up the stairs and tumbles right into my chest. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Hayes, I didn’t mean to…” The third time, she’s just trying to pick up a textbook and, you guessed it, lands in my arms again. “Sob, Mr. Hayes, I just don’t understand this problem…” The fourth time… Enough! I don’t know if I’m okay, but you’ve clearly got a problem! If you have balance issues, see a doctor! Why do you keep launching yourself at me? Even if I were interested, which I’m not, my body can’t take this abuse. I’m tired. Let the world burn. I’m pretty sure civilization will continue to turn without me teaching high school math. To make it worse, Sophie’s mom brings us a plate of sliced fruit, turns on a little desk lamp, and closes the bedroom door behind her with a knowing smile. “Thank you so much for all your hard work, Mr. Hayes.” I’m touched, but I’m too terrified to move. If you weren’t looking so sincere, I’d swear you were being sarcastic, you little devil. 5 Leaving Sophie’s house, I feel like my life force has been drained by a succubus. I can’t take it anymore. Hey, you, the pervert in the building across the street—instead of just watching, why don’t you come over and rescue me? I can’t go on like this. It’s not just that I have no idea how to tutor her; with the way she throws herself at me three times a minute, she’s not learning a damn thing anyway. After careful consideration, I take her mother’s hand in mine, my expression the epitome of sincerity. “Mrs. Gable, Sophie’s academic progress has been… astonishingly fast.” She clasps my hand back, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Really? That’s all thanks to you, Mr. Hayes.” “Yes, exactly! Which is why I believe her performance has stabilized. She no longer requires any additional tutoring.” “But…” she begins, hesitant. I press on. “No buts. You have to trust her. She’s going to be a pillar of our nation one day!” Probably not if I keep teaching her, but we’ll gloss over that. “So, starting tomorrow, I won’t be coming over anymore.” Standing behind her mother, Sophie looks at me, her expression so wounded she seems on the verge of tears. I, on the other hand, can barely contain my grin. I feel like a new man. “Well, I should be going. Goodbye.” “Oh, of course. Thank you again,” her mom says, still beaming. “Mr. Hayes, you’re a wonderful teacher.” Bye-bye now! 6 Good news puts a spring in your step, and my steps take me straight to a bar. One drink in, and the room is spinning. You have got to be kidding me. This body is a total lightweight! One-star review. Definitely leaving a one-star review. The bar’s dim lighting swims before my eyes, and I nearly pass out. “Are you okay?” A voice, and a hand steadying my waist. “Thanks, I’m f— mmph.” Before I can finish, a powerful wave of nausea hits me. I clamp a hand over my mouth, push the stranger away, and stumble toward the men’s room. “Blech…” … Phew. After emptying my stomach, I feel much clearer. Then, a rustling sound from the next stall. “Don’t… not like this…” Huh? That voice sounds familiar. I listen closer. “Like what? Like this?” A sharp slap, followed by a gasp from the girl. “Mmm, you little thing…” The air thickens with a raw, undeniable desire. I’m sorry, I just puked. I really can’t handle this right now. And who the hell are you, dude? “But… someone’s in here…” “Doesn’t that make it more exciting? Huh?” And once again, I’m an unwilling audience member to a live performance. Where am I? What am I doing with my life? Hey, author? Writing the same scene over and over again is not going to do you any favors. 7 I stumble out of the restroom, wondering what I did to deserve this curse. Why does every hookup in this universe require me to be listening from behind a wall? A figure approaches, silhouetted against the light. “Feeling any better?” The voice is like a cool breeze. The man is tall and well-built, with handsome features. His black button-down shirt hints at a gym-toned body, and his tailored slacks are… ahem. Realizing this is the good samaritan who saved me from face-planting earlier, I thank him, while an inappropriate thought crosses my mind. That’s a seriously hot outfit. I feel two warm trickles from my nose. His eyes widen. “You’re having a nosebleed! Are you okay?!” I hastily cover my nose, forcing a laugh. “Just… been a little stressed lately, haha. How embarrassing.” I take the napkin he offers and thank him again. He chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you come sit down for a bit? I didn’t think one of my drinks would knock you out that fast.” “Huh?” I ask, confused. He points to the bar. “I was the one who made your drink.” “Oh.” I nod, mortified. I waltzed in here like I owned the place, only to be taken down by a single cocktail and then get a nosebleed from checking out the hot bartender. Note to self: find a new planet to live on. As if sensing my humiliation, he smiles again. “Let me make you something to help with the hangover. Consider it my apology for not warning you.” “Haha, you don’t have to do that. It’s fine.” “Come on.” …Back at the bar, I finish the non-alcoholic drink, listen to a few jazz numbers, and decide it’s time to go. The last thing I need is to run into Sophie on her way out of the bathroom. I get up and turn to Liam—my savior’s name is Liam. “You’re busy, I should get going.” Liam looks up at me. “Wait, I’m about to close up. Want to walk out together?” “…Sure.” I mean, honestly, who could say no to a handsome guy with a smile in his eyes asking you so gently? Even if I am technically a guy right now. Doesn’t matter. If I can’t have him, I can at least look. 8 I wait for Liam by the back door of the bar while he finishes up. “Sorry for the wait,” his voice says from behind me. I turn around. “No problem at—!!!” My world screeches to a halt. Can someone please tell me why Sophie is also using the back exit? And is that Bathroom Bro dragging her along by the hand? My gaze drops. Wow. He’s certainly… hands-on. I spin around quickly, but I turn too fast. Some degenerate left a banana peel on the ground—a banana peel!—and just as I’m about to become intimately acquainted with the pavement, Liam’s reflexes kick in and he catches me. My hero! My absolute hero! I would propose on the spot. “You okay?” Liam asks, his voice laced with concern. One of his arms is wrapped around my waist, the other holding my hand, pulling me securely against his chest. I shake my head slowly, clutching my heart as it hammers against my ribs. “Ah!” A sharp gasp shatters the strange, charged moment between us. “Mr. Hayes?” I freeze. Sophie’s eyes dart between me and Liam, her expression a cocktail of shock, dawning realization, and finally, utter heartbreak. “Does… does this mean…” Mean what? Don’t you dare finish that sentence. We’re completely innocent here! Then, in a tone one might use to condemn a cheating lover, she adds, “No wonder…” No wonder what?! Look at the guy whose hand is still attached to you and think before you speak! I haven’t done a single thing with you! Sophie lets out a little whimper, covers her face, and runs off crying. Bathroom Bro—Vince, I guess—shoots me a death glare. “Hmph. You made Sophie cry. I’ll make you pay for that.” Then he chases after her.

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For nine years, the heir to the Rhodes family fortune pretended he was poor. For me. He even had our son in on the secret, hiding the truth of their lives from me. When a voice in my head—a System, it called itself—told me I could finally leave this world, I thought it was the perfect ending. The heir would get the wife he was always meant to have, someone of equal standing. Our son would get a new mother he would adore. And I would get to go home. My real home. But a short time later, the System delivered a notification that made my blood run cold. “Host, they have been granted an opportunity to find you.” My question was sharp, immediate. “Did you give it to them?” “No,” the voice replied. “They begged for it.” 1 The world came back into focus with the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic. I’d blacked out on the subway, a dizzying spell brought on by low blood sugar. Now, I was in a hospital bed. “Mom, why do you always have to make a scene?” Noah’s little face was pinched with an annoyance that was too big for his seven years. “Dad and I were about to go to the… the park.” The word “park” hung in the air, a clumsy lie. A wave of ice water washed over me, and the words I wanted to say froze in my throat. Noah crossed his arms over his chest. “You can get home by yourself later, right? Dad and I are busy.” I managed a numb nod. As soon as he left, I discharged myself. The exhaustion that settled deep in my bones felt more psychological than physical. I collapsed onto our small sofa, the worn springs groaning in protest. Suddenly, a strange, static buzz crackled in my mind. Bzzzt— Connection established. Host, I’ve finally found you. Before I could process it, a torrent of information flooded my thoughts. My apologies, Host. A critical error during transmission caused me to lose contact with you. Your original mission was to capture the heart of Ethan Rhodes, the heir to the Rhodes family fortune. “Ethan Rhodes?” I whispered to the empty room. The voice continued, oblivious. Well, what do you know? It seems you’re already well on your way! Your progress is at 89%, and you even have a child together. So, the man I had rescued from the street, the man I had built a life with, was an heir to one of the most powerful families in New York. 2 When I first arrived in this world, I had nothing. No memories, just five hundred dollars and a driver’s license in a name that felt like a stranger’s. To survive, I took any job I could find. I handed out flyers in Times Square, washed dishes in the greasy kitchens of late-night diners. I learned the city from its underbelly. I was working as an aide at an assisted living facility in Queens when I found him. He was unconscious in an alley behind the building, looking even more destitute than I was. Not a single dollar in his pockets. But his face, even bruised and pale, had a refined quality—the kind of bone structure that money creates over generations. A wild thought sparked in my mind: if I saved him, maybe this was my ticket out. My one-in-a-million shot at a different life. Because God, I was so tired of working three jobs just to stay afloat. But it didn’t play out like a fairytale. When he woke up, Ethan told me he was homeless, with no one to turn to. Maybe it was loneliness, or maybe I was just captivated by his movie-star looks. For reasons I couldn’t quite articulate, we ended up sharing my tiny studio apartment. Looking back now, I see it clearly. His entire life with me began with a lie. 3 Host, I can’t believe he’d keep this from you for nine years. He’s got to be the cheapest billionaire heir I’ve ever encountered, the System noted, its tone laced with digital sympathy. It was a good system. It just came nine years too late. I had no appetite to cook lunch. Instead, I ordered all my favorite takeout dishes from a place down the street, a small indulgence I rarely allowed myself. Our life together had been built on small things. The casual intimacy that grows between two people sharing a small space, a shared future. We’d split a single order of Pad Thai to save money, worn matching five-dollar t-shirts from a street vendor. I used to fantasize about the cozy, loving home we would build, a fortress against the world. Then, after one reckless, beautiful night, came Noah. There was no wedding. The simple silver bands we wore? I paid for them with my savings. Ethan held me tight that day, promising he would make it all up to me, that I just needed to wait a little longer. After Noah was born, our financial situation mysteriously improved. The cramped studio was replaced by a two-bedroom apartment. I assumed Ethan’s freelance graphic design work had finally taken off. He said he’d handle childcare so I could pick up more shifts at the restaurant, my nights and days blurring into a constant cycle of work. By the time Noah was three, Ethan was barely home. He was always taking our son on “outings,” but he was always vague about where they went. If I pressed, Noah would snap with a frustratingly adult impatience, “You wouldn’t get it, Mom.” He must have known by then. He must have known his father was a Rhodes. The family wouldn’t have let their heir’s son live in squalor. Noah had probably been welcomed into the fold years ago. And me? I was working weekends, killing myself to earn a little extra cash, my entire monthly salary probably not even enough to cover the cost of one of Ethan’s tailored shirts. The sound of the front door opening shattered my thoughts. It was Ethan and Noah. There was no concern on their faces, only surprise at finding me home so early. Seeing the takeout containers on the coffee table, Noah wrinkled his nose and tugged on Ethan’s pant leg. “I don’t want Mommy’s food. I already…” “Noah!” Ethan’s voice was sharp. He turned to me, his expression softening into a familiar, placating mask. “Mia, don’t worry so much about things like this. I’ll take care of him.” I remembered all the times Noah had thrown a tantrum at the dinner table, refusing to eat the food I’d made. Ethan would always play the part of the strict father, scolding him. I would then rush in to soothe Noah, who would be blinking back crocodile tears. I was so naive. I thought Ethan was defending my feelings. Now I realize he was just terrified our son would slip up and reveal the truth. Just like in the hospital this morning. Noah didn’t mean to say “park.” He meant to say “the office,” didn’t he? It was all there, all along. I just never let myself see it. I stood and began gathering the empty containers. “I have to get back to work. There’s a lot to do.” The moment the System told me Ethan was just a mission objective, a strange sense of relief washed over me. It meant my investment wasn’t a total loss. At least I’d get something out of this. I wouldn’t walk away with absolutely nothing. Ethan’s eyes narrowed, sensing the shift in my mood. “Noah and I will pick you up after your shift.” “Okay,” I said. 4 Host, do you want to exit this world? I can file a request for early mission completion. Due to our technical error, you’ll receive your full reward plus a compensation package. Of course, you can also choose to stay. I walked down the quiet street, thinking. “Why was I brought here in the first place?” You saved a drowning child in your original world. “What happened to her?” She’s in an orphanage. She’s physically fine, but her emotional state is… fragile at times. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the oak trees, dappling the sidewalk in patterns of light and shadow. The breeze felt free. In that moment, for the first time in a long time, I felt like myself. Ethan was supposed to pick me up after work. I waited for over half an hour, but there was no sign of him. No reply to my texts. My legs started to ache from standing, so I decided to duck into the nearby high-end mall for a drink and a place to sit. The ground floor was a glittering expanse of luxury brands. As I passed a jewelry counter, a child’s voice, high and excited, cut through the quiet hum of the store. “Sloane, you look like a real princess with that on!” It was Noah. “You’re just saying that to be sweet,” a woman’s musical voice laughed. “What do you think, Ethan?” “It’s nice,” Ethan’s voice was smooth, casual. “Didn’t I just have a custom piece made for you last week?” “A girl can never have too many pretty things.” I saw them then. The woman was stunning, dressed in an elegant dress that clung to her frame, her aura bright and untouched by the grime of the world. Noah orbited her, his eyes shining with an adoration I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. When did he stop looking at me like that?

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I am a capybara. I look like a guinea pig, but with a more stoic, rectangular face. You can picture it. I love to zone out. I love to soak. If I can zone out while soaking, even better. Because we’re so chill, we get along with everyone in the animal kingdom. A duck using my head as a perch? I’ll just zone out. A pelican trying to nibble on my face? Zone out. A crocodile giving me a ride on its back? Zone out. There’s a certain aesthetic to it—a vibe that’s somewhere between living and dying, and not particularly concerned with either. Until I woke up in the body of a C-list actress in America. The contract termination fee is astronomical, so for now, I’m stuck in showbiz. Of course, this isn’t permanent. I’ve already found a great way to make money: playing a corpse. It’s a hundred and fifty bucks a day, and craft services are included. At this rate, I should be able to buy out my contract in… roughly a century. I’m perfectly content with this plan. My agency, however, is not. 1 Today’s performance did not go smoothly. I was playing dead in a cluster of bushes. Maybe I was lying a little too flat, blending in too well with the scenery, because the male lead stepped right on me. It was a war scene. The man was wearing over twenty pounds of prop armor. I nearly coughed up a lung. He seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second, then continued on with his lines. The pain was so intense, I passed out. When I came to, another extra was wandering around with my phone, trying to find me. The shoot had wrapped hours ago. I’d slept so long no one had even noticed I was missing. I slowly pushed myself up, startling him. “Penny? What are you still doing here?” The extra handed me my phone. “Hey, you missed a call.” It had gone to voicemail long ago. I glanced at the screen. It was my agent. Seeing me just staring into space, the extra prompted, “Aren’t you gonna call back?” “They’ll call again,” I said. He looked at me with a sort of weary helplessness. “You can’t be this zen all the time, Penny. You fell asleep on set again, and they already paid out the extras for the day. You worked for free. C’mon, let me buy you dinner or something…” I yawned. “It’s okay. I’ll just come back tomorrow.” The extra, who had been about to offer again, just sighed. “…Right. You should probably go get some sleep, then.” “Bye,” I said, rubbing my eyes. He looked at my drowsy face, and for a moment, his expression softened. As I was leaving, I saw the male lead pacing around the set, a deep frown on his face. I overheard someone say he was looking for someone to apologize to. I wiped off my corpse makeup and walked right past him on my way out. I was woken up by a ringing phone. It was my agent, Brenda. A video call. The moment I answered, her exasperated face filled the screen. “I am so done, Penny! Even if you’re a nobody, you’re my nobody, and the network is forcing you onto that reality show to be Sienna Croft’s foil!” I blinked slowly. “What’s a foil?” Brenda looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. “It’s the oldest, trashiest marketing trick in the book, and you don’t even know it? They want you to play the part of a good-for-nothing, totally incompetent train wreck to make Sienna look hardworking and beautiful by comparison.” I nodded in understanding. “Oh. That’s me, then.” Good-for-nothing. Totally incompetent. “…” Brenda went silent. I think she wanted to scream at me, but in the end, she just waved a dismissive hand, all the fight gone out of her. “Fine. Whatever. Just go.” “And for God’s sake, brush your hair before you leave the house. It looks like a small, furry explosion went off… you’re a grown woman, how do you still have a cowlick that intense?” She muttered a few more things under her breath before hanging up. I continued to zone out. I kind of wished Brenda were here. She always hates my bedhead; she would have brushed it for me. 2 I joined the cast on location. It was one of those grueling, back-to-basics survival shows. The livestream started the second we stepped out of the van. Sienna and I were guest stars for the week. There were five permanent cast members: four men and one woman. The guys were: an A-list actor, a boy band idol, a rock singer, and a pro athlete. The female cast member was a famously outspoken actress. Sienna had worked with most of them before and was immediately part of the group, laughing and hugging everyone. Being a total unknown, I just stood off to the side. The live chat was blowing up with comments about how gorgeous they all were. The few times I was mentioned, it was with pure confusion. [Who is that? Never seen her before.] [Ugh, must be someone the producers snuck in. So annoying.] I started to zone out. Until Sienna suddenly called out, “Oh, I almost forgot about Penny! What are you doing just standing over there, silly? Come say hi to everyone!” I had no choice but to go down the line, shaking hands. “Hi, I’m Penny,” I said four times. It wasn’t until I met the A-list actor’s gaze that I paused. I frowned. “You.” He was the one who had stepped on me. He looked momentarily confused, then offered a polite, professional smile. “I’m Ethan Cole.” The implication being, he had no idea who I was. Which was fair. My face had been caked in fake blood at the time, and who remembers what a corpse looks like anyway? The live chat, however, exploded. [Is she seriously trying to start drama with Ethan Cole? The nerve.] [Lmao my man does not care AT ALL.] [Ethan: Don’t even try it.] I saw the undisguised annoyance in his eyes and figured he’d gotten the wrong impression, but I didn’t bother to explain. I just went back to zoning out. That first night, we had to earn our dinner by competing in games. Because I’d been in a daze for most of the explanation, by the time my turn came, the only option left was archery. Sienna asked with exaggerated concern, “Penny, do you know how to do that?” I nodded. When you play a corpse, sometimes they give you a little fight scene before you die. The stunt coordinator once told me I had a knack for it, so whenever an arrow had to actually hit the lead actor’s armor, I was the one who fired it. Of course, the lead actor never died. Only I did. The smile on Sienna’s face froze. “Are you sure?” she pressed. I paused. Right. My assignment from the agency. I was supposed to be completely useless. So, I shook my head. The live chat filled with mockery. [This Penny girl is such a poser. Says she can, then immediately backs down when Sienna calls her out.] [So annoying. The rest of the cast is amazing, why did they have to bring in this dead weight?] [Guess her rich dad couldn’t buy her talent. If you can’t hack it, just go home.] Sienna feigned hesitation. “Well, how about this? I can take your turn.” “I took archery lessons for a role once,” she added, beaming. “I’m actually pretty good.” I remained silent. Awkwardly, I had also been in that movie. I played the assassin in that scene. Sienna, brimming with confidence, had insisted on doing the shot for real. After eight failed takes, they gave up and used CGI. I, on the other hand, had to get “beaten up” by her eight times before I was allowed to gloriously die. Still, I just nodded. “Okay.” But a producer chimed in. “Sienna, you already competed in the Pictionary game. If you want to take Penny’s turn, you’ll have to accept a penalty.” Sienna agreed immediately, her face a mask of determination. The live chat flooded with a mix of outrage and pity. The original game was just to shoot an orange off a post. The penalty, it turned out, was for me to balance the orange on my head while Sienna tried to shoot it. Live Chat: [LMAOOOOO. Serves her right.] [Isn’t that dangerous? What if something actually goes wrong?] [Relax, Sienna said she knows what she’s doing. Besides, Penny is so useless, she’ll probably make a crew member stand in for her anyway.] I sighed and silently placed the orange on my head. Sienna was as confident as ever, ready for her big moment. But ten arrows later, nine had missed completely, and the final one grazed my cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Sienna’s eyes instantly welled up. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was so scared of hitting you that I couldn’t aim properly. I was trying so hard to be careful.” The other cast members rushed to comfort her, and the chat was a waterfall of sympathy, all of them blaming me for being difficult. A few comments popped up asking if I was okay, but they were quickly buried. I snapped out of my daze and touched my cheek. It came away bloody. The movement dislodged the orange, which tumbled to the ground and landed in the dirt. I squatted down, picked it up, and looked at a nearby crew member. “I’m sorry, I got it dirty,” I said. “Do you still want it?” The crew member gave me a complicated look and shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize for that.” I didn’t quite hear the rest of what he said, only that they didn’t want it anymore. So, I quietly peeled the orange and ate it. It was really sweet. These are, like, eight dollars a pound at the store this time of year. Score. Live Chat: [Okay, but her face is actually bleeding. An actress’s face is her livelihood, this feels like it went too far.] [I thought she was going to cry or get mad, but she just… picked up the orange and ate it?] [I mean, I don’t like her, but you have to admit, her emotional stability is on another level.] After I finished the orange, I stood up and clapped the dust off my hands. “I’ll do it.” I had no idea if the agency would dock my pay for this, but if this dragged on any longer, I was going to fall asleep standing up. 3 I placed the orange peel on the ground and picked up the bow Sienna had discarded. I drew the string, nocked an arrow, and closed my eyes for a second. Thwip. The arrow pinned the peel to the dirt. Live Chat: [OMG, she’s littering! How could she!] I walked over and picked up the peel. I looked around. No trash can. As a rodent, I take environmentalism very seriously. I would never do something so uncivilized… maybe I should just eat the peel? I lifted it towards my mouth, but then my eyes met Sienna’s. She was glaring at me, furious that I had failed so spectacularly at being a failure. Great. She was going to complain to the network, and my pay was definitely getting docked. Getting yelled at didn’t bother me—it goes in one ear and out the other—but still. The tear tracks were still visible on Sienna’s face. I hesitated, then slowly walked over to her and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry. It was my fault.” It was a trick the extra from the other day taught me. When in doubt, just apologize. After apologizing, I turned and left to collect our team’s prize: a basket of ingredients. Live Chat: [Am I crazy or was that kind of… tender?] Sienna: “AHHH! Penny, did you just put a dirty orange peel in my pocket?!” Live Chat: […Yep. I was crazy.] I snuck a bite of a lettuce leaf from the prize basket and closed my eyes in satisfaction. Two problems solved at once. Perfect. Sienna must be feeling much better now. The next day, we were on our own for lunch. I was paired with Wyatt, the pro athlete, and our task was to catch fish. We made our way to the riverbank. It was lined with tall reeds, swaying in the breeze. A capybara’s buffet. Unfortunately, this human body would probably get sick if I ate wild plants. I regretfully stuck a reed in my mouth to chew on, cast my fishing line, and settled down on the bank to zone out. Wyatt, a swimmer by trade, had already stripped off his shirt and was splashing around in the river, trying to catch fish with his bare hands. He was in his early twenties, all lean muscle and boundless energy, and he thrashed around for ages without a hint of fatigue. He scared away all the fish that had been nibbling at my bait, then grinned at me, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. “Penny, come on in! The water’s great!” Live Chat: [Those abs. I am looking respectfully.] [But he’s scaring all the fish away. He’s like an overexcited golden retriever. The fisherman in me is raging.] [Abs. drool. But dude, read the room, you have a task to do. drool.] […Can the person above me wipe their chin? You’re dripping on me.] I put down my fishing rod and slowly got up. The live chat thought I was about to tell him off. The excitement was palpable. “Okay,” I said. I love a good soak. And since he invited me, the agency couldn’t accuse me of slacking off, right? I sat down in the shallows and began to zone out. Wyatt called, “Hey Penny, let’s race!” “Your goal is that big rock! I’ll swim to that tree way over there! First one there wins! On the count of three… GO!” He finished his countdown and shot off like a torpedo. I had been on the verge of sleep. His shout startled me awake, and I blinked in confusion. Huh? Where did he go? Oh, well. Back to sleep. Live Chat: [LMAOOOO someone please tell me they clipped that.] [Wyatt didn’t see Penny move, so he got out on the other side to check on her and is now completely lost.] [I’m dying. Penny literally just looked up, saw he was gone, and went right back to sleep. She looks so tired all the time.] 4 By the time the production crew found Wyatt and brought him back, the morning was almost over. He was distraught. “We didn’t catch any fish. What are we going to tell Ethan and the others?” As he spoke, he looked down at me in the water and fell silent. Live Chat: […I was just in Wyatt’s stream, can someone explain what’s happening here? Why is there a duck on Penny’s head?] [I think it’s the duck Wyatt scared onto the bank earlier.] [If you’re new here, just wait. It gets weirder.] I had been zoning out again and Wyatt’s voice pulled me back. He looked utterly shocked, pointing a trembling finger at my head. “You… there’s a duck on your head.” “Oh,” I said. Back when I was a capybara, I’d often have three or four ducks visiting at once. My human head is smaller, though, so it can only fit one. I glanced at the sun, realizing I couldn’t soak any longer, and slowly began to stand up. The duck squawked and flew away, but something else, hidden in my explosive bedhead, tumbled down as I moved. I instinctively reached out and caught it. It was… an egg? Live Chat: [???] [I thought things couldn’t get any weirder.] [I really thought it couldn’t.] [It got weirder.] [Weird.] I thought for a moment, then, under Wyatt’s “my-brain-is-melting” gaze, I handed him the egg. “For lunch.” Wyatt’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh my god, Penny, you’re the best.” I looked at him, confused. I eat grass, so I had to give it to him. What’s so great about that? I gathered a large bundle of reeds to take back with me. I told everyone I just liked them as decoration, but secretly, I planned to snack on them later. The rest of the cast was thrilled about Wyatt’s egg, crowding around and asking him how he got it. Sienna, however, directed her attention to me. “It’s fine that you didn’t catch any fish, but this was a team effort. It’s not really fair for you to just go play in the water all morning and come back with a bunch of weeds, is it?” “I’m sorry,” I said. Then, with a pained expression, I offered, “You can have some.” Sienna: “…” The internet: “…” [I’m sorry Sienna, but I absolutely lost it.] [Go ahead and laugh. I’ll take the karma hit for you.] [Borrowing the karma from the user above me. LMAOOOO.] Over by the fire, Ethan and the others had finally gotten the whole story out of Wyatt. Ethan cleared his throat. “It’s okay, Sienna. Penny was the one who got the egg, she… uh…” He struggled for words, apparently unable to summarize the origin of the egg, and finally just looked at me with a grave expression. “You worked hard.” I yawned and drifted off into a daze.

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My sister got married at twenty and had my nephew at twenty-one. I’m twenty-seven and can’t seem to get a man to stay. Over the years, I’ve brought home a string of boyfriends. But every time things start getting serious, my father invites them into his study. I don’t know what he says in there, but when they come out, they’re like different men. Strangers. Their eyes filled with a terrifying coldness, some looking at me like they wanted to wring my neck. My latest boyfriend swore he wouldn’t let my dad intimidate him. But after he stepped out of that study, his face was a mask of fury. He broke up with me on the spot, sealing it with two vicious slaps across my face. What is the real reason they all leave? What dark secret is hidden in my father’s study? 1 “You’re a disgusting little tramp! Don’t you have any shame?” “Next time, I’ll just let your boyfriend kill you. Maybe then you’ll finally learn your lesson.” The moment my boyfriend was out the door, my father’s face twisted into a dark scowl. The curses began. To be honest, I was on my fifth boyfriend, and they all ended the same way: ugly. And every single one of them had walked into my father’s study a loving partner and walked out a monster. It was a transformation so sudden, so complete, it felt impossible. Yet, it happened every time. I stared at my father, my cheek still stinging, hoping for an apology that I knew would never come. The look in his eyes wasn’t just anger; it was a chilling regret that my ex-boyfriend hadn’t just finished the job and strangled me. He’d always favored my sister, showering her with affection while I was barely an afterthought. When I first wanted to date as a teenager, he forbade it. Yet, the moment my sister turned twenty, the legal age, he practically pushed her down the aisle. I watched with a hollow ache in my chest as my brother-in-law moved in, doting on my sister, their life a perfect picture of marital bliss. All I ever wanted was that—to be with someone I loved. But if my father caught me looking at them for too long, he’d kick me to the floor, snarling that marriage was a dream I should never dare to have. When my sister and her husband went on their honeymoon to Europe, he made me kneel in the living room for hours as punishment for my “improper thoughts.” He even had my sister call me, her voice laced with pity, telling me not to get married, not to “ruin someone else’s life.” I never imagined my own father could be so cruel. For a while, I even wondered if I was adopted. A private investigator confirmed the bitter truth: I was his biological daughter. Desperate for answers, I posted my story on an online forum. The responses poured in, a torrent of theories from strangers. [Maybe you were born on the day he was supposed to close a huge business deal. Your birth made him lose a fortune, and now that he’s struggling, he’s taking it out on you.] [I bet you look like his mistress. Your mom hates you for it, so your dad does too.] I did some digging. My dad was a teacher; he’d never been in business. And by all accounts, he was a faithful husband. No mistress. The reason remained a mystery, a dark cloud that hung over my life. I was beautiful, men fell for me easily, but it never mattered. My father was a wall I couldn’t get past. Finally, I begged my uncle for help. He was furious when he heard, telling me it was insane for a parent to wish loneliness upon their own child. He stormed over to our house, ready to confront my father. “What is wrong with you?” he shouted. “Your daughter found someone she loves! Our job as parents is to support them, not to sabotage them! Have you lost your mind?” My father said nothing. He just stared at my uncle with cold, flat eyes, then grabbed his arm and pulled him into the study. 2 When my uncle came out, the warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a venomous glare. He didn’t say another word about my right to find love. Instead, he kicked me hard in the stomach. “You filthy mutt,” he spat. “Still thinking about dating at your age? Who do you think you are?” Just then, my aunt arrived, looking for him. She saw what he’d done and started screaming at him. But then my father led her into the study. When she came out, her face was grim. She warned me that if I ever thought about getting married again, she would personally poison me. I couldn’t understand it. What was in that study? What could possibly cause such a complete, chilling transformation in everyone who entered? Even my sister, who I’d been so close to growing up, now insisted I was better off alone. She’d secretly burned all my photos with ex-boyfriends and deleted their numbers from my phone, forbidding me from seeing them. The mystery consumed me, keeping me awake night after night. Through it all, my mother was my only ally. She owned three bustling restaurants and worked from dawn till dusk, so she was rarely home to see the worst of it. But she was on my side. After each breakup, I’d cried, screamed, pleaded. Nothing worked. The disappointment carved a hole in my chest, a gaping void that let the cold winds of despair howl through me. My father shot me a look of pure contempt before settling onto the sofa to watch TV. I walked over and stood directly in front of the screen. “Dad, just tell me. Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you? Can’t we just talk about it instead of… this?” We were family. Surely, we could resolve this. He didn’t even glance at me, his eyes fixed on the television. “I’ve told you. No dating, no marriage. If you disobey me again, I will kill you.” His eyes slid to the side, pinning me with a look of pure malice. A shiver of primal fear ran down my spine. He wasn’t joking. He stood up, walked to the kitchen, and came back with a cleaver. His face was contorted in a mask of rage as he lunged at me. I screamed, scrambling back into my room and locking the door. I fumbled for my phone and called my best friend, Maya, begging her to call the police. They arrived quickly, with Maya right behind them. A female officer tackled my father, sending the cleaver skittering across the floor. Only then did I dare to creep out of my room. “Mr. Morgan, you’re under arrest for suspicion of attempted murder. You need to come with us to the station.” Even in handcuffs, my father looked completely unfazed, a smirk playing on his lips. Maya saw the gash on my arm from the cleaver and her face went pale. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she lunged forward and punched my father’s shoulder. “What is wrong with you? That’s your daughter!” she sobbed. “You’d rather kill her than let her get married?” She buried her face in her hands, her body shaking with sobs. I knew if the police weren’t here, she would have fought him herself to defend me. In a world of enemies, she was my one true friend. The police questioned my father, but he remained silent, a mask of unrepentant defiance on his face. 3 Maya stepped forward, holding up her phone. “I have proof. Monica has had five boyfriends since she was twenty, and her father instigated every single breakup. He even told them to hit her! I have photos of all her injuries. These men need to be punished!” A low, guttural laugh escaped my father’s lips. His expression was terrifying. He gestured for the officers to loosen their grip. “Fine, I’ll go with you,” he said, his eyes glinting. “But first, I need to get some important evidence from my study. If you’re afraid I’ll run, you can all come with me.” The air left my lungs. I threw myself in front of the study door, my body trembling, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. “No! None of you can go in there!” I knew what would happen. If they went into that room, they would come out changed. They would become like all the others. Maya wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Monica, it’s okay. The police are here. He can’t hurt you now.” She looked at me with such concern, but I just gripped the doorknob tighter, refusing to move. My eyes were wide with a terror the officers couldn’t understand. Two of them gently pried my hands from the door. “It’s alright, Monica. We’ll be right with him. He won’t be able to do a thing.” I shook my head wildly, tears splashing onto the floor. “No, please. You can’t go in there. Please.” My frantic reaction only made them more suspicious. One officer ordered me to stay put while the others followed my father inside. Maya was the last to enter. “It’s the end of the line for you,” she spat at my father. “You can play whatever games you want, but you tried to kill your own daughter. You’re going to prison.” She turned back to me, giving me a reassuring smile and a wink. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” I stood there, my heart a tangled mess of hope and dread. Maybe Maya was stronger. Maybe she could resist whatever poison was in that room. But I was a fool to hope. Through the crack in the door, I saw her face shift from confidence to confusion, then to sheer terror. Finally, it settled into a mask of cold, hard fury. She let out a scream of rage and smashed a teacup on the floor. My father just watched, a smug, knowing look on his face. When they came out, Maya calmly smashed her own phone on the ground. She turned to the police with a polite smile. “My apologies, officers,” she said. “This was all a misunderstanding. Mr. Morgan was just having a… spirited discussion with his daughter. He never intended to harm her. It was my mistake.” The officers’ faces hardened as they turned to me. “Don’t you ever file a false report again! You get a warning this time. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.” I collapsed to the floor, all the strength gone from my body. It was over. I had lost my last chance for help. Maya jabbed a finger at my forehead, her nails digging in. “Did you hear that? If you hadn’t lied about your dad trying to kill you, I wouldn’t have made a false report! You need to think about what you’ve done!” They all glared at me with contempt. The police uncuffed my father and left. As the front door closed, Maya’s face morphed into a cruel sneer. 4 She stormed into the kitchen, came back with two more cleavers, and thrust them into my father’s hands. “Uncle, you were right. Monica is a worthless tramp,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “She has a good life, and all she can think about is chasing men. If she’s going to be so disobedient, you might as well just kill her.” “A waste of oxygen like her is better off dead!” Hot tears streamed down my face. I stared at her, my world tilting on its axis. “Maya, what are you saying? You’re my best friend!” She shoved my hand away. “I’m saying what I mean. You brought this on yourself.” My heart felt like it was being ripped in two. This was the girl I’d grown up with, the one who’d sneak me warm pretzels when my dad punished me by withholding dinner. The one who swore she’d always be there for me. Just a few weeks ago, we were walking together, and I’d asked her, “What if I never get married?” Her eyes had shone with fierce loyalty. “Then you won’t! I bought a house, remember? You can move in with me. I won’t get married either. We can adopt a kid and be a family, just the two of us.” She was the one who told me those men weren’t worth my tears, that their sudden change of heart proved they never truly loved me. And now, she was one of them. The pain was a physical blow, a heavy weight crushing my chest. The suspicion in my mind was a thorny vine, tightening its grip until I could barely breathe. What was the magic in that room that could turn love into hate so completely? After that day, Maya and I were strangers. The physical wounds healed, but the psychological damage was deep. I started seeing a therapist, trying to claw my way back to some semblance of normalcy. My father and sister continued their campaign of control and cruelty, uncaring. Finally, my mom came home for her annual vacation. Every year, she took a few weeks off to spend with family. When she found out I’d been in therapy, she was overwhelmed with guilt. She came into my room and found me staring blankly at the wall. Tears streamed down her face as she wrapped me in a tight hug. “Monica, my baby, it’s all my fault. I’ve tried to talk to your father so many times, but he’s just so stubborn.” The pain in her eyes was real. I knew how hard it was for her. If it weren’t for her love, I don’t think I could have survived. She had always been my shield, the one person who would stand up to my father’s tyranny. But her work kept her away, and in her absence, the house had become my prison. Still, knowing she loved me was my lifeline. 5 I’d thought about moving out, but my father watched me like a hawk. He made it clear that if I tried to leave and secretly marry someone, he would find me and make me suffer in ways I couldn’t imagine. The image of the study flashed in my mind, and I shuddered. I wrapped my arms around my mom’s. “Mom,” I whispered, “you’ll listen to me, right? No matter what?” She stroked my hair. “Of course, sweetheart. You’re my precious daughter. I’ll always listen to you.” I looked at her, my eyes pleading. “Then promise me you won’t go into Dad’s study. Can you do that?” “Is there something in there?” “I don’t know! Just… please don’t go in. Promise me.” “Okay, okay, don’t get upset,” she soothed. “I promise. I won’t go in.” “You’re the best, Mom.” “I’ll always be here for you,” she said, her expression serious. I believed her. As long as she stayed out of that room, she wouldn’t be brainwashed. She would still love me. She even told me she’d arranged a date for me with a wonderful man from a matchmaking site, muttering that no decent parent would ever stop their child from getting married. A wave of relief washed over me. I agreed to meet him on the weekend. The next day, she told me the date was off. We were supposed to get breakfast together that morning, but she didn’t wake me. I slept until noon. When I finally emerged from my room, thinking she’d been called into work, she picked up a bowl from the dining table and hurled it at my head. Pain exploded across my forehead. Blood trickled down my face, dripping onto the floor. My father stood there, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Sleeping all day, you lazy good-for-nothing! Why don’t you just die in your sleep so I can bury you!” Terror and disbelief washed over me. Tears fell like broken pearls. At the table, my mom was calmly eating a plate of barbecue ribs, not even glancing in my direction. My father grabbed a leather whip and brought it down across my back. The pain was white-hot, electric. I screamed. “Dad, what did I do? For years you’ve ruined my life, and now you’re going to beat me to death?” His nostrils flared. “That would be for the best!” he roared. “Just looking at you makes me want to skin you alive! You want to get married so badly? When you’re dead, I’ll find you a groom in the morgue!” The whip whistled through the air again and again, splitting my skin. The agony was blinding. I thrashed and screamed until my voice was raw. Through a haze of pain, I could hear my mom laughing at a video on her phone, completely indifferent to the fact that her husband was beating her daughter to a pulp. I scrambled over to her, grabbing her leg. “Mom, make him stop! He’s going to kill me!” I expected her to leap up, to shield me with her body. But she didn’t move. She just gave me an annoyed look. “Well, you shouldn’t have provoked him. You’re getting what you deserve.” My mind went numb. My arms trembled. She had been in the study. She had to have been. “You went into the study, didn’t you!” I shrieked, my voice cracking. “You promised me you wouldn’t! You promised we would go on that date! Did you forget?” My mother slammed her chopsticks down on the table. “Will you shut up! Of course I didn’t go in the study! A pathetic creature like you wants to get married? If you don’t learn to behave, I’ll have your father choke the life out of you myself!” She was gone. The mother I knew was gone, replaced by another monster. Now, everyone in my life wanted me to either be alone or be dead. My sister and her husband walked through the living room, dressed to go out. They saw me, bruised and bleeding on the floor, and didn’t even flinch. They just walked out the door. My father’s fists rained down on me until he was finally satisfied. Then he left, my mom clinging to his arm as they went into their bedroom. My body and soul were shattered. I couldn’t understand it. I was a normal girl. Why couldn’t I have a normal life? It was the middle of summer, but my heart was frozen solid. My mother was lost to me. If I stayed in this house, I would die. That night, I waited until the house was silent. I packed my essential documents into a backpack, ready to escape. As I tiptoed through the dark living room, I saw a light on under the study door. I crept closer and peered through the keyhole. My father was sitting at his desk. On his face was the most terrifying smile I had ever seen, a grotesque grin stretching nearly to his ears. My body went rigid, ice flooding my veins. And in that single, horrifying moment, I finally understood why my father would never let me marry. Why he would never let me leave.

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Everyone in the city of Crestfall knew that Asher Howard lived and breathed for me. At a high-profile auction, he’d dropped a fortune on a pair of matching, priceless rings, just for us. For my eighteenth birthday, he rented out an entire private island. This was the man who adored me. And yet, when my sister was bullied to death, he did nothing. Worse, he protected the one who did it. I knelt before him, tears streaming down my face, begging him to get justice for my sister. He gently wiped my tears away, his voice a soft caress. “Elara,” he murmured, “I would give you the world. But this… this one thing I cannot do.” “Aria is my sister. I can’t be the one to send her to her ruin.” 1 Asher’s voice was a velvet whisper, but his words were a dagger to my heart. He held out a legal settlement. “Be a good girl and sign this. I’ll make sure your family is well compensated.” “Elara, you know I spoil you. Just this once, please? For me?” I took the document, my eyes scanning the cold, printed words. My voice trembled as I read them aloud. “Following an investigation, the death of Sienna Moore has been ruled as natural causes. Aria Howard is considered an innocent party. The plaintiff agrees to this settlement, absolving her of all wrongdoing. The defendant agrees to pay the plaintiff twenty million dollars in compensation. Both parties consider the matter resolved.” “Well?” Asher asked, his tone expectant. My hand shook, and a tear splashed onto the page, blurring the ink. I looked up at him, my voice raw. “Asher, are you even human? My sister was bullied to death by Aria. How can you call that ‘natural causes’?” He reached out, his thumb brushing away a tear on my cheek. “Elara, Aria is only sixteen. She’s just a child.” “She didn’t know what she was doing. Can’t you find it in your heart to give her a second chance?” Sixteen. What a pathetic excuse. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “And wasn’t my sister sixteen? Who’s going to give her a second chance? You think saying ‘she didn’t know what she was doing’ erases what she did?” “Elara!” His eyes flashed with a warning. I knew that look. It was the one that always made me back down. But not this time. Not with Sienna. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “So, you’re not going to help me. Is that it?” “I would do anything else for you, Elara. You know that. But not this.” His voice hardened. “And twenty million is more than enough to cover your sister’s entire life. Even if she had lived, graduated, gone to college, gotten a job… even if she made a hundred thousand a year, she would never have earned this much. It’s the same thing, Elara.” “What did you say?” My heart stopped. I stared at the man in front of me, a complete stranger. Was this the same man who cherished me, who would move mountains to see me smile? I stood there, frozen, letting the tears fall unchecked. A chill crept over me, deep and unsettling. Asher’s expression softened again, his voice dropping to a coaxing purr. “Come on, Elara, don’t be difficult. Once this is all over, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll get you something special. Okay?” A sob caught in my throat. “And what about my sister? She adored you. She used to follow you around, calling you ‘big brother.’ Is this how you repay her?” The pain in my chest was so intense I could barely breathe. “I’m devastated about Sienna’s passing too,” he said, his voice laced with false sympathy. “But we can’t bring her back. There’s no need to ruin another life. Aria is young. She can’t have this stain on her record. Elara, please try to understand.” Ruin another life? A bleak emptiness spread through me. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find a lawyer myself.” I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. His face was cold. “Elara, are you sure you want to do this?” “Yes.” My voice was unwavering. “I can guarantee,” he said, his tone dropping to a deadly whisper, “that if you walk out that door, not a single law firm in this city will touch your case. You know I don’t make idle threats.” My breath hitched. I ignored him and walked out. 2 He was right. For days, I went from one law firm to another, covering every corner of Crestfall. No one would take my case. The moment they saw me, their faces would close up, their doors would shut. “Miss Moore, please, don’t put me in this position. Mr. Howard gave specific orders.” “You should try somewhere else, Miss Moore.” “Miss Moore…” I sat on a park bench, the file of evidence for my sister’s case heavy in my lap. I pulled out my phone, and a new social media post popped up. It was from Aria. The caption read: [My brother’s sending me abroad! Yay! ~] Below it was a selfie of her posing with a new Chanel bag. A moment later, a “like” appeared on the post. From Asher. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. Blood rushed to my head, and the image of my sister’s broken body flashed in my mind. Aria had pushed her from the fifth-floor window of their school. The coroner’s report detailed multiple injuries sustained before the fall. Just hours before she died, Sienna had texted me, promising to bring me a cupcake after school. By the time I got there, her body was gone. Under pressure from Asher, the school claimed the security cameras were broken. Aria had looked at me with smug triumph. “So what if my brother spoils you? When it comes to my future versus your sister’s life, there’s no comparison.” Rage coursing through my veins, I decided to go to the most prestigious law firm in the city. They were powerful. Surely, they wouldn’t bow to Asher’s influence. I went to the bank and withdrew every penny I had—a million dollars in cash. I walked into the law firm, ignored the receptionist’s protests, and dumped the entire bag of money on her desk. “I need to file a lawsuit. Is a million dollars enough?” The receptionist recognized me and fell silent. A moment later, a partner came out. “Miss Moore, I’m afraid we can’t…” “If a million isn’t enough, then take this.” I ripped off my emerald earrings—the ones Asher had bought for ten million at that auction—and threw them on top of the cash. That had to be enough. The partner just shook his head. “Please, Miss Moore, you’re making this very difficult.” “Still not enough?” I tore the diamond necklace from my neck and the bracelet from my wrist, thrusting them at him. “How about now?” “I… I can’t accept these,” he stammered. Suddenly, his eyes flickered to something over my shoulder. “Mr. Howard. Miss Howard.” My heart plummeted. I turned around. It was Asher and Aria. Aria smirked at me, a look of pure victory on her face. The memory of my sister’s death choked me. Asher strode forward, his brow furrowed, and grabbed my arm. “Elara, are you trying to give away my gifts?” he demanded. I wrenched my arm free. “Yes. Do you want them back?” “You…” He looked furious, but then seemed to collect himself. He pulled me into his arms. “Elara, stop this tantrum. I told you, no one will help you without my permission. Why can’t you just be reasonable? Sign the settlement, and all of this will be over.” “I even brought Aria here to apologize to you.” He pushed Aria in front of me. She bowed her head, her expression a mask of perfect contrition. “Elara, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for it to happen. Sienna and I were just playing around, I didn’t think…” She went on and on, then leaned in close, grabbing my hand. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You should have seen the look on her face when I made her drink toilet water. That little bitch. She kept crying for her big sister while I was hitting her. You really are a good sister, aren’t you, Elara?” 3 Her eyes were dancing with amusement, locked on mine. A demon whispering in my ear. The horrific images of Sienna’s last moments played on a loop in my head, tearing me apart. “Enough! Stop talking!” I shoved her away and slapped her hard across the face, twice. “Elara, what are you doing?!” Asher lunged forward and yanked me back. I lost my balance and fell, my head cracking against a large ceramic planter by the door. A starburst of pain exploded behind my eyes. The world spun. I staggered to my feet, leaning against the wall for support. Aria was already nestled in Asher’s arms, her face a mask of terror. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Brother, I’m so scared. I don’t know what happened, Elara just attacked me.” Seeing her performance, a fresh wave of hatred burned through me. I lunged for her, but Asher threw me aside again. I landed in a heap on the floor. “Elara,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “sign the settlement and apologize to Aria. I won’t ask again.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Asher, are you insane? She provoked me! Is a human life really worth less than Aria’s reputation?” “I told you, you will be compensated,” he said, his voice like ice. The man who had once promised to love me forever was a stranger. Aria peeked out from behind Asher’s shoulder, a triumphant smirk on her face, as if to say, See? Compared to me, you’re nothing. Rage and grief intertwined in my heart. I clenched my fists. “You want me to sign that settlement? In your dreams.” I pushed myself to my feet and looked past him, directly at Aria. “Murder is murder,” I said, my voice ringing with conviction. “You can’t hide it. Even if no one in this city will take my case, I won’t give up.” If I couldn’t find a lawyer in Crestfall, I’d go somewhere else. There had to be someone in this world who wasn’t afraid of Asher Howard. “Elara, are you sure you want to do this?” His eyes were cold with warning. I met his gaze without flinching. “I will never stop fighting for my sister.” “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He took Aria’s hand and left. A few minutes later, the law firm threw me out. I knew Asher’s threats were never empty. I just didn’t expect him to move so quickly. The story of my sister’s death was suddenly all over the internet. But it was a twisted version. She was painted as a home-wrecker, a teenage seductress who had been chased down at school and pushed to her death by a scorned wife. They posted her photo, alongside doctored images of her with strange men, checking into hotels. The internet exploded. The comments were a torrent of hate. “So the victim wasn’t so innocent after all. Figures.” “Wow, only sixteen and already stealing husbands. What kind of family raises a girl like that?” “A bitch like that deserved to die. You mess with someone’s family, you pay the price.” “I hate homewreckers more than anything. Good riddance!” 4 In the court of public opinion, my sister had gone from victim to villain. Her photo was turned into cruel memes, spreading like wildfire. Then, I got a text from Aria. [See how powerful my brother is? Get over here and beg for my forgiveness, and maybe I’ll call off the dogs.] [Or else.] A moment later, a video came through. It was a picture of my sister’s funeral portrait, with the word WHORE scrawled across it in red, being scattered like confetti on a busy street. An icy rage consumed me. I ran. When I got to the location from the video, a swarm of reporters surrounded me. “Are you the sister of the girl who was killed for having an affair? What’s your take on your sister’s death?” “Is it true that no lawyer in the city will represent you?” “They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Do you agree?” They pushed and shoved, their cameras flashing in my face. Over their heads, I saw Aria on a second-floor balcony, watching with a smug smile. This was a trap. I tried to push my way through the crowd to get to her, but someone blocked my path. A large, furious woman marched up to me and slapped me across the face. Before I could react, she grabbed a handful of my hair. “You bitch! So you’re the one who’s been sleeping with my husband!” I was stunned. “What husband? I don’t—” “Don’t you dare lie to me, you whore!” Another slap. My head was spinning. The crowd grew larger, phones held high, recording everything. “No wonder the sister was a homewrecker. It runs in the family.” “A whole family of sluts. Are they that desperate for men?” “I can’t stand women who break up homes. Her sister got what she deserved, and now it’s her turn!” The woman yanked my hair, the pain searing. I tried to speak, to defend myself, but the crowd surged forward. “Let’s get her! It’s our civic duty to punish a homewrecker!” I was pushed to the ground. Fists and feet rained down on me. I instinctively curled into a ball, covering my stomach. “Stop,” I gasped. “Please, I’m pregnant. Don’t kick my stomach.” That only seemed to fuel their rage. “What? You got pregnant with another woman’s husband?” “We can’t let that little bastard be born!” “Get her!” A heavy boot slammed into my abdomen. A wave of agonizing pain washed over me. I felt a warm gush of liquid, and a pool of blood began to spread beneath me. I clutched my stomach, the pain unbearable. But they didn’t stop. They kept kicking, over and over. Through the forest of legs, I saw him. Asher, walking away, flanked by bodyguards, with Aria by his side. I tried to push through the mob, to crawl toward them.

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After seven years of marriage, my husband—a decorated police captain—still can’t recognize my face due to his prosopagnosia, or face blindness. He relies on my signature crisp apple blossom perfume to “know his wife by scent.” If I forget to wear it, his voice turns to ice: “Excuse me, who are you?” or “Ma’am, please leave. My wife will be home soon.” Living like this is its own kind of hell. Even in bed, I worry that if I sweat too much and the scent fades, he’ll shove me away as a stranger. Still, I found a twisted comfort: if Robert can’t remember my face, at least he’d never cheat. A husband who couldn’t even recognize another woman. That illusion shattered when I found his hidden sketchbook. Page after page, drawn in his own hand, was a woman’s face, rendered with vivid tenderness. Judy. His first love. And I finally understood: the reason he could never remember my face was because his mind had room for only one. But now, as that very same first love—now a hardened criminal—holds a knife to my back, his gun hand is starting to shake. Robert… can you see my face now? 1 A man’s body was found on the riverbank at dusk. By the time I arrived with my M.E. kit, the crime scene was already wrapped in a triple layer of yellow tape. My husband, Robert Hayes, is the captain of the Homicide division. He was surveying the scene, his focus absolute, the shoulders of his uniform pulled sharp and straight over his tall frame. He cut an impressive figure. I was in such a rush that I’d forgotten my official lab coat and credentials. The moment I ducked under the tape, a hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice, forcefully shoving me back. “Civilian! Stay back! You’re contaminating the scene!” My husband’s voice was as cold and hard as frozen steel. I looked up into his eyes. All I saw in their depths was professional vigilance, not a single flicker of recognition. The other detectives froze. A younger one, Mike, scratched his head and muttered, “Uh… Captain? That’s Dr. Hayes. Leah. Your wife?” Robert’s grip vanished. A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck as he struggled for an explanation, for a way to justify the absurdity of a man not recognizing his own wife. “I…” I’m a medical examiner. Perfume is a strict no-go at work. Usually, Robert identifies me by my lab coat and ID badge. Without them, I was just another anonymous face, another potential threat. I quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “It’s fine. Captain Hayes has been burning the candle at both ends. It’s dark, I’m in street clothes… he’s just in the zone.” I set my kit on the ground and crouched, pretending to organize my tools. The truth was, I was hiding my face, willing the burning in my eyes not to turn into tears. Seven years. We’ve been married for seven years. The face blindness started in the third year of our marriage. It was sporadic at first, then became more and more frequent. Once, he’d mistaken me for a burglar as I was cooking in our own kitchen and put me in a takedown hold. My shoulder was dislocated. He has prosopagnosia. A peculiar kind that only affects his ability to recognize women’s faces. Men, he can distinguish just fine. But it’s a dangerous condition, not just for our marriage, but for his career. Department regulations are clear: any severe cognitive impairment is grounds for suspension. He was terrified of being benched, of it torpedoing his career, so he begged me to help him hide it. As his wife, what else could I do but agree? The sun was beginning to stain the horizon by the time I finished my preliminary examination. I climbed into Robert’s car for the ride back to the precinct. He kept his eyes fixed on the road, his voice low. “Thanks. For back there.” He paused. “That was a close call. They almost figured it out.” I turned to look at his rigid profile. 2 “Robert, we can’t keep doing this. Your face blindness is getting worse. Sooner or later, the whole department is going to know.” My voice was pleading. “You need to see a doctor.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. His tone dropped several degrees. “Treat what? So I have face blindness. Has it stopped me from closing cases? Do you want me to get suspended? Shuffled off to a desk job in Logistics?” His voice rose, thick with frustration. “I’m a homicide detective, Leah! My whole life is about solving these cases!” It was always like this. The moment I brought it up, he’d explode. “I’m just worried about you, Robert. I don’t want to see you crash and burn.” I tried again, my voice softer now. “That sting operation last month… you almost shot our female informant because you thought she was the suspect. If I hadn’t screamed your name…” “Enough!” he snapped, cutting me off. “I know what I’m doing. I don’t need you to manage me. Ninety percent of the perps in my cases are men. I don’t see how not recognizing a woman’s face is some critical flaw. It’s not like I’m working Vice!” The conversation died. We drove the rest of the way to the precinct in a heavy, suffocating silence. He went to his office; I went to the M.E.’s lab. Another long day bled into another long night. When I finally got home, Robert wasn’t there. Not unusual. A fresh murder case meant overtime was the new normal. Despite being exhausted after more than twelve hours on my feet, the wifely duties still called. I went into his study to tidy up, gathering the work notes he’d left scattered on his desk. As I picked up a leather-bound notebook, a loose piece of drawing paper fluttered to the floor. It was the profile of a woman. Delicate features, the corner of her mouth lifted in a gentle smile. The lines were drawn with such care, such obvious repetition, that it was clear the artist knew this face by heart. I froze. He couldn’t remember women’s faces. There was a painful familiarity in her features. I rushed to the bookshelf, pulling out our old photo albums. There, in his Police Academy graduation photo, I found her. It was his first love. The academy’s golden girl, Judy Sterling. So, it wasn’t that he couldn’t recognize women. He just couldn’t be bothered to remember me. His face blindness had one exception, and her name was Judy. I stood there, the sketch clutched in my hand, my own foolish words echoing in my head. “At least he’ll never cheat…” What a pathetic joke. I’d been lying to myself for years. He hadn’t cheated on me. To cheat, you have to be on the same path in the first place. Robert had never even been on my track. I knew the story, or parts of it. She was in his graduating class, a beauty who got a cushy public relations job at the main department office. Then, she’d abruptly resigned, saying she was moving abroad to live with relatives. People said Robert was a wreck for months after she left, before he channeled all that broken energy into his work. He became a machine, closing case after impossible case, climbing the ranks until he made captain by thirty. That’s when I met him. A driven detective and a rookie medical examiner. We were like something out of a TV crime drama, the classic pairing. I used to think it was the most romantic thing in the world—partners in life, partners in justice. Now I just saw it for what it was: a fantasy I’d built all by myself. Robert came home around 11 PM, looking drained. He saw me sitting in his study and his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Is that the new cleaning lady? It’s late, why are you still here? I told you, living room, kitchen, and bathroom only. Don’t touch anything in my study!” He didn’t recognize me. Again. “Robert,” I said, my voice level and calm. “It’s Leah. Your wife.” 3 He blinked, processing, then set down his briefcase. “Sorry. It’s been a hell of a day.” He sniffed the air. “Did you change your perfume? You know I only recognize the apple blossom.” My job means I’m surrounded by the smells of death and decay. In my off-hours, I love perfume. My personal favorites are floral—rose, jasmine, lily. But ever since Robert’s condition worsened, he’d made me promise to only wear that one specific apple scent. I’d never thought much of it. Until today. Until I saw her face sketched from his memory. “Robert… was apple blossom Judy’s scent?” My voice was quiet, but it sliced through the air. “You can’t remember my face, so you make me smell like your first love. What does that make me to you? A substitute? A scented doll?” He stiffened, his expression turning cold. “Leah, I’m exhausted. Can we not do this? Why are you suddenly bringing up Judy? That was over a long time ago.” He wouldn’t admit it. But we were both in law enforcement. We dealt in evidence. I was done with pointless arguments. I held up the sketch, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize someone with face blindness could be such a talented artist. It’s as absurd as a mute becoming an opera singer.” His face darkened. He snatched the drawing from my hand, his voice accusatory. “Who gave you permission to go through my things?” “Go through your things?” The bitterness in my laugh felt corrosive. “My own husband can’t remember what I look like, but he can draw his ex-girlfriend from memory with photographic precision! We’ve been married seven years, Robert. For five of those years, I have covered for you, lied for you, put my own career at risk to protect yours. And this is how you repay me?” He was silent for a long moment before he finally gave a slow, defeated nod. “Yes. I never forgot her. She left so suddenly… I never got closure. I know it’s not fair to you, Leah, but I can’t help it. Her face is the only one my mind can hold on to. It’s a prison for me, too. I hoped you could understand.” Understand? What woman on earth could understand that? This wasn’t about love anymore. This was about dignity. About my very existence as a person. “Robert, let’s get a divorce.” His head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Leah, you want a divorce over this? I haven’t seen Judy since the day she left! You’re jealous of a memory?” “She’s not just a memory,” I said, shaking my head. “She is a part of our present. And you’re right, I’m not just jealous of a memory. I’m furious that you’ve made me live with her ghost.” I held up a hand to stop his protests. “What you call a beautiful memory, Robert, is a whip you’ve been lashing me with for years. I will not spend another day with a man who has so little respect for me.” Seeing the resolve in my eyes, he let out a long, weary sigh. “Alright. I’ll agree to a divorce. I know I’ve wronged you.” He hesitated. “But can we wait until this case is closed? You know the pressure we’re under—a homicide case has to be cleared. I’m up for the Deputy Chief position, and a divorce right now… it wouldn’t look good. Once this murder is solved, I’ll sign whatever you want.” My mind flashed back seven years. I was a fresh-faced intern out of the academy, on my first real crime scene—a brutal gang fight. One of the thugs, high on adrenaline and cornered, made a run for it, charging right at me with a bloody knife. I was too green, too scared to move. It was Robert who threw himself in front of me, taking the blade in his left shoulder. The scar is still there. That was how we began. 4 A wave of something soft and tired washed over me. “Fine,” I said, taking a deep breath. “We’ll wait until your case is closed. But we sign the divorce agreement now, post-dated for one month from today. If the case isn’t solved in a month, the agreement goes into effect anyway. I can’t wait forever.” I rarely go shopping, but that weekend I went to the mall, desperate for a distraction. I found a beautiful cream-colored dress, and after trying it on, I paid for it at the register. When I went back to the counter to pick up my purchase, a glamorous woman was berating the sales clerk, clutching the very dress I had just bought. “I want this dress. Tell the other customer she can’t have it!” she snapped, her voice shrill and arrogant. “I’ll pay double!” It was Judy. She was back. She looked nothing like a former cop; she carried herself like a spoiled mob wife throwing a tantrum. My husband, I could let her have. The dress was another matter. “Excuse me,” I said, stepping forward. “I believe that’s mine. I’ve already paid for it.” Judy whirled around and, without warning, slapped me across the face. The force of it made my ears ring. “Who the hell do you think you are, trying to take something from me?” I am not the same inexperienced rookie from seven years ago. I’ve seen the worst of humanity laid out on a steel table. I’ve been through combat and self-defense training. I no longer needed a man to protect me. I could handle myself. CRACK. My own hand flew, connecting with her cheek in a slap that was just as hard. “I may not be anyone special, but I’m not someone you can just assault.” The slap was immensely satisfying. A red handprint blossomed on her perfect, porcelain skin. “What the hell are you doing?!” A furious voice cut through the air. It was Robert, dressed in plain clothes, storming towards us. His face was a thundercloud of rage as he pointed a finger at me. “What is wrong with you? Assaulting someone in broad daylight? You think you’re above the law?” His voice was a low growl. “You’re coming with me to the precinct for questioning. This is at least seven days in a holding cell!” He turned his back on me, his voice instantly softening as he fussed over Judy. “Judy, are you okay? Did she hurt you?” “Don’t worry,” he murmured, all protective concern. “I won’t let her get away with this.” Judy, the raging harpy from moments before, transformed into a damsel in distress, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. “I’m fine, Robert. I just wanted to buy a pretty dress to wear for you… I didn’t know she was so violent.” “You’re not fine, your face is already swelling,” Robert fretted, his expression full of pain on her behalf. He turned back to me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Well? What are you waiting for? ID! Where do you work? This is absolutely unacceptable!” The sales clerk tried to intervene, to explain that Judy had started it, but Robert silenced her with a glare. “I wasn’t talking to you! Stay out of it! This is official police business!” Watching my own husband play the white knight for another woman, I felt no sadness. Only a profound, liberating sense of absurdity. “Officer,” I said, my voice steady, “am I allowed to contact my family? If I’m being detained, I think my husband should know.” Robert launched into another tirade. “Fine! Call your husband! I’d love to have a word with him! What kind of man lets his wife run around acting like a common thug? He needs to learn how to control you!” I met his furious gaze, my own calm and clear. I bit my lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood, but I felt no pain. “My husband’s name is Robert Hayes,” I said, each word a carefully placed stone. “He’s the Captain of the Homicide Division for the city. And not only does he fail to ‘control’ me… he can’t even recognize my face.”

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My parents were murdered and dismembered in our home, and the family company was collapsing. I begged my fiancée Ginger for help, but she married a man named Finn in a lavish “wedding of the century.” At my lowest point, Ginger’s sister Eleanor—a police captain—proposed to me at my parents’ funeral. She vowed to find the truth and be my support. I said yes. The case eventually went cold and was closed. Grieving, I let Eleanor handle everything: my parents’ affairs, my debts. She brought me into her home. Five years into our marriage, I overheard her talking to a colleague: “Eleanor, there was only one real suspect in the Grant case: Finn. Why did you bury it? How can you live with yourself, letting Caleb stay under the same roof as his parents’ killer?” “Finn is innocent,” Eleanor insisted. “He was just in the wrong place. I believe him.” Then she added, “I may have betrayed my badge, but I’ve been true to my heart. Even if he didn’t choose me, I’ll make sure he’s happy.” The gift I held for her burned in my hands. My parents’ killer had been beside me all along, and the woman I loved had protected him for five years. This marriage was built on a lie—and it was over. 1 Through the door, I could hear Eleanor gazing at a photograph on the wall, her voice thick with the sorrow of unrequited love. “Since Finn didn’t choose me, the only thing I can do is clear the path for him, remove every obstacle. As for Caleb… I’ll keep a close eye on him. He’ll never find out the truth.” Her colleague sounded disappointed, almost pleading. “You’ve been on the force for eight years, your commendations could fill a wall. Why throw it all away for Finn? He doesn’t love you! And his presence at the Grant house that night was no coincidence!” “If this ever comes out, you’ll lose your job, your reputation, everything. You could even go to prison. Are you insane?” Eleanor let out a soft, dismissive laugh. “Insane? Maybe. Love doesn’t follow logic. The case is closed. Don’t bring it up again.” “And what about Caleb? You brought him here, made him face his parents’ killer every single day. Have you ever thought about him? He loves you so much, and you—” Eleanor’s voice turned to ice. “That’s enough. I said, Finn is not the murderer.” A pause. Then, quieter. “If someone has to pay for this, then I’ll give him my life.” “I just don’t get you… You have motive, you have evidence… Fine. If you think this is right, then so be it.” Footsteps were approaching. I scrambled back to my room, a fugitive in my own home. The images from five years ago flooded my mind—the blood, the horror. The company’s collapse that followed. Eleanor had been my salvation, pulling me from the wreckage, paying off every debt, welcoming me into her life. I thought I had found true love, drowning myself in a bliss I never thought possible. But it was all a meticulously crafted lie. She hadn’t brought me into her home out of love; she’d brought me here to keep me under her thumb. To monitor me. To protect Finn. Our marriage, these five years of affection, were nothing but compensation born from her guilt. And I, like a fool, had paraded my gilded cage to the world, showing off the scraps of her pity as if they were treasures. The irony was a blade in my gut. The front door clicked shut; her colleague was gone. Moments later, Eleanor stumbled into our room, a little unsteady from drink. She cupped my face, her eyes, hazy with alcohol, full of a familiar tenderness as she kissed my forehead. “Why are you standing by the door?” “It’s nothing,” I lied. “I was going to get you some water, but I spilled it.” “Let the housekeeper handle that. You’ve been so tired lately. You need to rest. It breaks my heart to see you like this.” She leaned in and kissed my lips, her touch as gentle and loving as it had always been. But this time, I felt no warmth. Only a profound, chilling cold. To think a person could go to such lengths for someone else. As I closed my eyes, a single tear escaped and traced a path down my cheek. I helped her to the bed and tucked her in. She was asleep in minutes. Sitting beside her, I reached for her phone. The password was Finn’s birthday. Typing it in unlocked a secondary, hidden system on her device. The desktop was clean, except for a single, overflowing photo album. She had photographed the entire case file of my parents’ murder. A thousand images. And on every page, one name appeared again and again: Finn. From his motive to the evidence against him. There was even a still from a security camera video showing him at the gate of our villa that night. It was all there. But the final page was stamped with a single conclusion: UNSOLVED. She had taken the physical file home, afraid her colleagues would grow suspicious, leaving only this digital copy for herself. A secret she alone could see. Her bias, her protection, laid bare. The sight was a punch to the stomach, leaving me breathless with a sour, burning pain. Eleanor had always been a principled, decisive detective. It was one of the things I’d fallen in love with. I never imagined she would cast aside every principle for him. There was another folder, a private, locked album. I clicked on it. It was filled with pictures of Finn. Ten thousand photos documenting his life over the past five years, after he had married her sister, Ginger. Every public appearance, every family gathering—Eleanor had saved them all. And in every single group family photo, my face had been neatly cropped out. The implication was brutally clear. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I couldn’t look anymore. I took pictures of everything with my own phone. Then, I booked a flight out of the country, for three days from now. And I began the process of canceling my identity, every official document, every tie to this life. I didn’t sleep. At dawn, as I was in the bathroom, my phone buzzed with an official notification. Eleanor’s voice, laced with confusion, came from the bedroom. “Caleb? Why are you canceling your ID?” I hurried back, taking the phone from her hand, my voice even. “It’s nothing. It’s about to expire, so I scheduled an appointment to get it renewed.” I changed the subject. “Don’t you have training today? You should get going.” She didn’t press, just wrapped her arms around me, nuzzling against my neck. “Honey, are you planning a surprise for me?” I froze. She reached up and playfully tapped my nose. “I saw the new necklace you bought. You can’t hide anything from me, you know. I can read you like an open book.” She grew serious, her voice soft. “It’s almost the anniversary of your parents’ death. We should visit their graves, tell them we’re married. We could have a family dinner, too. Ginger hasn’t been home in a while.” I managed a weak smile, saying nothing. She hugged me tighter, spinning me around in a circle, excited. For five years, she had constantly tried to mend the rift between me and her sister. I’d always thought it was a sign of her love for me. Now I saw it for what it was. A calculated move. An excuse to see Finn. This five-year charade had to end. The moment she left for work, I left the house. I went to a lawyer and had a divorce agreement drawn up. I finalized the cancellation of my identity. With the original case file hidden by Eleanor, going to the police now would be useless. Leaving was my only option. When I went to her precinct to drop off the papers, I overheard some of her colleagues talking. “Is that Captain Hayes’s husband? He looks familiar… Oh, right! The Grant family massacre five years ago!” “Do you want to get assigned extra drills? Shut up. The Captain said he’s not the killer. Don’t start rumors, she’ll lose it if she hears you. She’s fought with the Chief over this case more times than I can count.” “Look at him, though. Dressed head to toe in designer clothes, probably worth a fortune. I heard he just got back from overseas. A guy that rich wouldn’t need to kill someone, right? And the way the Captain looks at him… she’d have arrested him herself if he was the one.” My nails dug into my palms. I stood outside her office, frozen by the familiar voices inside. “Has she been good to you these past few years?” It was Finn. “You know your own sister,” Eleanor’s voice was laced with a bittersweet ache. “When she heard I was coming back, she insisted on buying me a private jet. She’s just like that… married for five years and still acts like a child…” Eleanor’s voice was heavy with a sorrow she tried to suppress. “That’s good. Then I can rest easy.” “Sister,” Finn said, his tone smooth as silk, “I have to thank you for what you did back then. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be rotting in prison right now.” He sighed dramatically. “I probably shouldn’t come to the family dinner tomorrow night. It’ll just upset Caleb. Every time he sees me, he’s reminded of his parents. I don’t want him to cause a scene…” Classic Finn. He had gotten everything he wanted, and still, he couldn’t resist taking a passive-aggressive jab at me. I remembered sneaking a look at the case file years ago. I knew he was the only suspect. At Ginger’s wedding, I had publicly accused him, tried to have him taken into custody. But everyone, my own fiancée included, had turned on me, calling me a disgrace. Only Eleanor had stepped in to defend me. She had been my only salvation. And now, she was the one who had cast me into the abyss. Inside the office, Eleanor forced a smile and pulled a small ceramic sculpture from her drawer. “I made this myself. It’s not as fancy as what you can buy in a store, but it’s from the heart. I heard Ginger is pregnant. Think of it as a gift for the baby.” Finn accepted it with a triumphant grin. My hand trembled, rattling the door slightly. Eleanor glanced up and saw me through the glass partition, her expression instantly tightening. “Caleb? What are you doing here?” She rushed to the door. “Don’t misunderstand. Finn just got back in the country and came to say hello. We were just talking about the dinner tomorrow.” “Caleb, long time no see,” Finn said, rising from his chair. He was dressed in the latest bespoke suit, making me feel like a beggar off the street. I forced a nod, swallowing the bitterness. “It’s fine. I was just passing by. If you’re busy, I’ll head home.” Thinking I was angry, Eleanor followed me out, explaining all the way to the car. “Caleb, don’t overthink it. Ginger’s pregnant, and I was just asking him for some advice so we can start trying.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “You’ve always wanted a child of our own, haven’t you? I’m ready now.” Looking at her feigned concern, I almost laughed. She would violate her oath to protect Finn, even sacrifice her own marriage. Now that she had what she wanted, who was this performance for? “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice hollow. “The past is the past. You said it yourself, it was all a misunderstanding. I’m not that petty. You two catch up. I’ll wait for you at home.” She breathed a sigh of relief and personally walked me to my car. As I drove away, I saw the looks of pity from her colleagues. I ignored them, pulling over to make final edits to the divorce agreement on my phone. Back at the house, I gathered everything Eleanor had ever given me over the past five years and set it all on fire in the hearth. As the last flame died, the doorbell rang. It was a delivery. The package was purchased by Eleanor, but the recipient was Finn. I signed for it. Inside, it was filled with high-end baby products. A moment later, a text from Eleanor arrived. “Caleb, I had some office supplies accidentally delivered to the house. Don’t open it, I’ll pick it up when I get home.” I sent back a simple emoji and resealed the box. I was already leaving. I had no energy left to unravel her clumsy lies. That night, Eleanor called to say she was working late on a case. A few hours later, Finn posted on his feed for the first time in ages. His location was tagged at a luxury downtown hotel. In the photo, a woman’s police uniform epaulet was clearly visible on a chair. On the table, her hand, with the ring removed, showed a pale, untanned mark on her finger. In the reflection of a wine glass, a woman was smiling beautifully, a man gazing at her with adoration. I gave the post a ‘like,’ just as he wanted. Then I packed my bags. The next afternoon, Eleanor texted, telling me to meet at her parents’ estate. When I arrived empty-handed, my in-laws’ faces immediately soured. “Eleanor is working herself to the bone, and you can’t even be bothered to bring a small gift for us? Who are you trying to intimidate with that long face?” A nearby relative chimed in. “It’s been five years. Do you still think you’re the golden boy of the Grant family? Wake up! The Grant empire is dust! If Eleanor hadn’t used her life savings to pay off your debts, you’d be selling yourself on the street right now!” “We’re your wife’s parents. With your own gone, we’re the only parents you have. Have you no manners? People will think our Eleanor was desperate to marry you!” Just then, Finn appeared at the door, his arms laden with expensive health supplements. My in-laws’ faces lit up, and they rushed to greet him. “Finn, you’re here! The flight must have been exhausting. Your brother-in-law will cook later, you just go upstairs and rest.” “You always bring so much! We’re old, we don’t need any of this. You and Ginger should save your money.” “See? Finn is so thoughtful. Not like some people who show up looking like we owe them money. His parents have been dead for five years and he still can’t let it go. Such bad luck.” Despite her words, my mother-in-law eagerly took the gifts. Finn, beaming, linked his arm with hers. “Mom, don’t say that. The Grant case is still unsolved after five years, it’s only natural for Caleb to be upset. He’s been through enough, let’s not rub salt in the wound. We’re all family now.” He winked. “Besides, Ginger is pregnant, and I hear Eleanor is trying, too! It’s a double blessing for our family today! So please, don’t make my brother-in-law cook. You know how sister gets when she comes home and finds him in the kitchen.” At the mention of Eleanor, my mother-in-law’s smile faltered. “A daughter married is a daughter lost! And here I am, worrying about her day and night.” If this were the past, I would have believed Eleanor stayed away to protect me from her family. But knowing the truth, I felt nothing. She didn’t want to come home because she didn’t want to face Finn as his sister-in-law. She didn’t want me to bring up the murder and make him uncomfortable. The crowd of relatives fawned over Finn, praising how well he looked. I was left forgotten by the door, a cold wind whipping around me. Just then, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. It was Eleanor, finally arrived. She gently tapped my nose. “Why are you standing out here? Did Mom and Dad give you a hard time again?” Seeing her daughter, my mother-in-law’s tone softened. “How would I dare scold the great Grant heir? He’s far too precious. You’d better get him upstairs to rest.” Finn stepped in, playing the peacemaker. “Mom, I’ve already ordered catering from the hotel. It’ll be here soon. You should rest, too. Don’t stress over these things.” The relatives immediately started praising Finn again, and I was once again forgotten. Eleanor guided me to a guest room to rest, then went back to explain to her mother that I was feeling unwell. The family’s chatter and laughter drifted through the closed door, the sound suffocating me. I decided to step out for some air, but Finn was suddenly standing in front of me, a smug smirk on his face as he looked at my pale complexion. “Old classmate. Long time no see. What’s wrong? You don’t recognize me after five years?” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, I should really thank you. If you hadn’t brought me home that night, I never would have found my real enemy.” My fists clenched. “Enemy? What are you talking about? What did my parents ever do to you? Why did you have to murder them, to… to cut them into pieces?” He dropped the act, his eyes turning vicious. “What did they do to me? You should ask what they didn’t do! Because of them, my father’s company went bankrupt! He was driven to jump off a building! Your family destroyed mine, and now you can’t handle a little payback?” He leaned closer, his voice a venomous hiss. “How does it feel? Seeing your parents’ killer standing right in front of you, living his best life, while you can do nothing? You know, I have to thank your fiancée and your wife. Without them, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” He grinned. “Your father was crying for you before he died. I even recorded a little video of him begging. Want to see it? Get on your knees and ask me nicely.” The image of my parents’ mangled bodies flashed before my eyes. A red rage blinded me. I swung, my fist connecting hard with his jaw. He grunted, but instead of anger, he smiled. He let my momentum carry him, collapsing dramatically to the floor. Before I could react, Eleanor was there. She kicked me squarely in the chest, the force of a trained officer sending me sprawling. She rushed to Finn, cradling him in her arms, her eyes blazing with fury as she looked at me. “Caleb, what are you doing? Are you insane? Finn came up here to call you for dinner, and you attack him?” The family rushed in, their glares like daggers. Finn, clinging weakly to her shoulder, sobbed. “Ellie, I’m so sorry. I was just trying to apologize to Caleb for the misunderstanding five years ago, I didn’t think he would just… attack me.” He sniffled. “It’s okay. Ginger broke off the engagement, we wronged him first. Let’s just call it even. Please don’t be mad at Caleb.” A sharp pain shot through my chest. A broken rib. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. “Misunderstanding? How dare you call it a misunderstanding?” I looked past him, at my wife. “Eleanor, what really happened five years ago? Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she held her ground. “I am still investigating that case. I told you it has nothing to do with Finn. Why do you insist on blaming him? I am a police officer. Don’t you trust me?” Her voice hardened. “You had no right to lay a hand on him. Caleb, apologize to Finn. Now.” My mother-in-law stormed forward and slapped me across the face. “You lunatic! Still trying to frame Finn! Everyone knows how good my daughter is at her job! If she says he’s innocent, he’s innocent!” Her voice dripped with contempt. “You’re just an orphan whose parents are dead. Who do you think you are? If my daughter hadn’t saved you, you’d be selling your body in some hotel to pay off your debts! Your parents were crooks, and they got what they deserved!” She turned to Eleanor. “Ellie, forget him. Let’s get Finn to the hospital.” Eleanor didn’t give me a second glance. She helped Finn up and left. Five years of my life, gone, in a single moment. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. That night, my in-laws threw me out of the house. A passerby found me and took me to the emergency room. A broken rib, just a centimeter from my heart. Late that night, I got a text from Eleanor. It was full of placating words. “Caleb, don’t overthink what happened tonight. I know you didn’t mean it. Finn is my brother-in-law, I have to answer to Ginger. How about this, once he’s stable, I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant to apologize? Please don’t be angry. My parents were just upset, they didn’t mean what they said.” So, she remembered she had a husband. A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips. “Okay. I’ll wait for you.” “Thank you for understanding, honey.” That same night, Finn posted a photo from his hospital bed. In it, a woman was asleep in the chair beside him, her face etched with worry even in her dreams. The next morning, I checked myself out of the hospital. I took my luggage and went straight to the airport. On the way, Eleanor sent me the location of the restaurant. “Honey, I have a surprise for you. I’ll be home to pick you up soon. Wait for me, okay?” I opened Finn’s social media feed. He had posted a video two minutes earlier. In it, Eleanor was carefully feeding him spoonfuls of porridge, her eyes filled with a tenderness I had never seen before. I quietly liked the video, then deleted their numbers and blocked them. As I boarded the plane, I sent an anonymous, formal complaint to the chief of police, attaching all the photos of the case file I had taken from Eleanor’s phone. I mailed the signed divorce agreement to her office. At the restaurant, Eleanor was busy directing her colleagues, helping them set up for her surprise. Rose petals covered the floor. She kept checking her phone, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach as my messages went unanswered. She was about to call me when a uniformed officer rushed in, his face pale. “Captain Hayes, it’s bad! You need to get back to the precinct, now! Someone filed an official complaint about the Grant case, and the Chief is looking for you everywhere! And… and there’s been an incident with Mr. Grant!”

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After my best friend got a boyfriend, she became a phone addict. One night, her 47th call made me miss a critical work alert, costing me my job. Yet she accused me of being jealous of her happiness. The next day, she “surprised” me by showing up with her boyfriend at my job interview, getting me disqualified. When my mother had a heart attack, her incessant calls caused my phone to crash—I missed the hospital’s update and never saw my mother alive again. At the funeral, she sobbed louder than I did, claiming it was her fault. Driven to despair, I jumped off a rooftop. When I woke up, I was back at the day she started dating him. 01 The name ‘Chloe’ glowed on my phone screen. Memories from my past life flooded back like a tidal wave. This was the first day she started dating him, and the first day of my nightmare. Taking a deep breath, I answered. “Anna!!! I have the most amazing news!” Her familiar shriek pierced my eardrum. “I’m in a relationship! It’s with Mark! You know, that gorgeous guy from the party last week!” “He just asked me to be his girlfriend! Ahhh, I’m going to lose my mind!” I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white. “Anna, are you listening? Why aren’t you saying anything?” “I’m listening,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm. “You’re not happy for me, are you?” Her tone immediately shifted to wounded. In my past life, this was where it all began. Every reaction, every word, was twisted into an accusation of jealousy. “Congratulations,” I said flatly. “That’s it?” she huffed, dissatisfied. “We’ve been best friends for ten years! Can’t you at least pretend to be a little more excited?” “Chloe, I’m at work.” “Work, work, that’s all you ever care about!” Her voice climbed an octave. “Is your stupid job more important than me getting a boyfriend?” I glanced at the project timeline on my computer. The proposal was due in three days. Last time, her endless calls had made me miss the deadline. “Chloe, can we talk tonight? I’m really busy right now.” “No! I need to share this with you right now!” “Mark just kissed me! In the middle of the coffee shop! Oh my god, my heart is still pounding!” “He said I’m the cutest girl he’s ever met!” “And he wants to take me to the movies!” I silently put the phone on speaker and continued typing. She rambled on for twenty minutes. Finally, I had to cut in. “Chloe, I really have to get back to work.” The line went silent for a few seconds. Then, a quavering, tearful voice. “Anna, you’ve changed.” “You used to be happy for me. Now, all you care about is your job.” “Is it because I have a boyfriend now? You don’t want to talk to me anymore?” The familiar guilt trip. Last time, I would have felt guilty. I would have apologized, dropped my work, and spent hours listening to her. Not this time. “Chloe, I wish you all the best. I’m hanging up now.” I decisively ended the call. The phone immediately rang again. I silenced it and focused on my work. Ten minutes later, a storm of texts. Chloe: “How could you hang up on me!” Chloe: “Anna, you’re being so unfair!” Chloe: “I thought you were my best friend, and this is how you treat me?” Chloe: “Are you jealous of me?” Chloe: “ANSWER ME!!!” I muted her notifications. By the time I left the office, I had 32 missed calls and 156 unread messages. I turned off my phone and went to the hospital to pick up my mom from her check-up. “Annie, you’re so early today!” my mom said, her face lighting up. “The project’s wrapping up. I’m taking you out for a nice dinner.” Last time, I was always late to see my mom because I was too busy managing Chloe’s emotional crises. This time, I was saving my time for the people who truly mattered. At 9 PM, I turned my phone back on. 78 missed calls. Over 300 messages. The latest one read: “Anna, Mark and I are downstairs. Come out and talk to us.” I walked to the window and looked down. Chloe was in a pink dress, nestled in Mark’s arms. The sight of them, so close, was like a needle in my eye. I drew the curtains and texted her back: “I’m asleep.” Her reply was instantaneous: “I can see your lights on! You’re just avoiding me!” “Anna, you get down here right now, or I’m going to keep ringing your doorbell!” Sure enough, the piercing buzz of the doorbell started, sharp and incessant. I picked up the intercom. “Chloe, if you press it one more time, I’m calling the police.” “The police?” Her voice crackled through the speaker, thick with disbelief. “I’m your best friend! You’re going to call the cops on me?” “It’s ten o’clock at night,” I said calmly. “You’re disturbing the peace.” “Disturbing the peace? I just want to see my best friend!” Her voice grew shriller. Then, Mark’s voice cut in. “Come on, babe, maybe she’s really tired.” “She’s not tired! She just doesn’t want to see me!” “I don’t care! She needs to come down here!” Chloe started throwing a full-blown tantrum. The doorbell ringing became more frantic. I disconnected the power to the doorbell and calmly dialed 911. “There’s someone causing a disturbance outside my building.” Ten minutes later, the police arrived. Chloe and Mark were taken to the station to give a statement. As they were led away, Chloe screamed at me, tears streaming down her face, “Anna! How could you do this to me? We’ve been best friends for ten years!” I closed the door, my face a mask of indifference. Ten years of friendship? Or ten years of me being her emotional support animal? 02 The next morning, my phone vibrated violently. A glance at the screen showed 48 missed calls. Chloe had been calling since 2 AM. I turned off the phone and got ready for work. As I opened the door, I found them standing there. Chloe’s eyes were red and swollen, Mark was in a crisp suit. “Anna!” Chloe lunged to hug me. I stepped aside. She stumbled, looking at me with wounded eyes. “Are you still mad?” “I didn’t mean to bother you, I was just so excited and wanted to share.” “We were at the station for three hours last night. I did a lot of thinking.” “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come over so late.” As she spoke, the tears started again. Mark handed her a tissue. “Don’t cry, babe. Anna’s not the type to hold a grudge.” He turned to me. “Anna, Chloe is really sorry. She was worried all night that you were really mad at her. You two have been friends for so long, after all.” I checked my watch. “I have to get to work.” “Wait!” Chloe grabbed my arm. “Have you forgiven me?” “Let go of me first.” “Not until you say you forgive me!” “Chloe, I’m in a hurry.” “Then I’ll go with you!” she insisted, clinging to me. “I’ll drive you,” Mark offered immediately. I wanted to refuse, but Chloe was already dragging me towards the elevator. The whole ride, Chloe chattered nonstop. “Anna, you know what? Mark is so good to me.” “After we left the station last night, he wasn’t mad at me at all.” “He even said it was his fault for letting me go to your place so late.” “He’s honestly the kindest man I’ve ever met.” Mark caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “Which company do you work for, Anna?” “Apex Tech,” Chloe answered for me. “She’s a project manager. She’s amazing!” “Impressive, making it to management at such a young age,” Mark said, his tone layered with something I couldn’t quite place. “It’s a shame she’s too busy to date.” “Anna’s 28 and still single!” Chloe said thoughtlessly. “My mom always says a woman’s priority should be her family. No matter how successful you are in your career, it’s pathetic if you don’t have a man to love you.” I stared out the window, not bothering to reply. As we neared my office, Chloe suddenly said, “Anna, let’s have lunch together!” “My treat, as an apology.” “I have a meeting.” “Then dinner! You have to be free for dinner!” “I’m working late.” “Anna!” She was on the verge of tears again. “You just don’t want to forgive me, do you? You’re still mad!” Mark pulled the car over. “We’re here.” I opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.” “Wait!” Chloe scrambled out after me. “When are you free? I really want to have a proper talk with you. It’s been so long since we just sat and talked.” I turned to face her. “Chloe, we’re adults now. I have my work, and you have your life. We can’t be joined at the hip like we were in school.” “But we’re best friends!” “And because we’re friends, we should respect each other’s lives.” With that, I walked into the building, the sound of her crying echoing behind me. For the next few days, Chloe left me alone. She sent a few texts, but they were just casual updates. I thought she had finally gotten the message. Until Friday afternoon. I was putting the final touches on my proposal when the office door swung open. Chloe walked in, carrying a birthday cake, with Mark trailing behind her. “Surprise!” she yelled. The entire office turned to look. “Anna! Happy birthday!” I froze. It was my birthday. But I never, ever celebrated at the office. “What… what are you doing here?” “Celebrating your birthday, of course!” Chloe placed the cake on my desk. “I remembered you love mango cake!” “Make a wish!” My coworkers started to join in. “Make a wish! Make a wish!” My team lead, Sarah, walked over, frowning. “Anna, what’s this?” “My… my best friend,” I managed, my face burning. “I’m sorry, I had no idea she was coming.” “Well, since it’s your birthday, cut the cake quickly,” Sarah said, glancing at the clock. “Don’t let it interfere with work.” Chloe had already lit the candles. “Hurry, make a wish!” With everyone watching, I had no choice but to close my eyes and pretend. When I opened them, I saw Chloe was livestreaming the whole thing on her phone. “Hey everyone! This is my bestie!” she narrated to her phone. “It’s her birthday, and I came to surprise her! Look! She’s so touched, she’s about to cry!” I snatched the phone from her hand and ended the livestream. “Chloe! What are you doing?!” “I’m capturing a beautiful moment!” she said, completely unapologetic. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime memory! Of course, I have to go live!” “This is my office!” I hissed, keeping my voice low. “You can’t just livestream in here!” “Why not?” she shrugged. “It’s not like I’m filming company secrets.” Sarah’s expression was thunderous. Mark finally stepped in. “Babe, maybe we should go. Anna still has work to do.” “No!” Chloe shook him off. “We haven’t even cut the cake!” She grabbed the plastic knife and sliced into the cake. A glob of frosting splattered onto my keyboard. “Oops, sorry about that,” she giggled.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385137”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 For three years, my soul has been trapped in the ceiling. Tonight, my family hired a paranormal livestreamer to prove I faked my own death. During the broadcast, my mother wrapped her arm around Lily, the girl they raised in my place, and called me a venomous, ungrateful snake. My brother’s voice was cold as ice. “When she was home, all she did was hurt Lily with her pathetic little schemes. Now she’s learned to play dead just to torment us. A monster like that doesn’t deserve to be my sister!” My father nodded in agreement. “Exactly. She’d better be dead for real this time. If not, I want this streamer to drag her out and humiliate her.” Everyone cursed my name, saying the world was better off without me. It made me wonder. If they saw that I was well and truly dead, would they feel even a flicker of sadness? … Deep in the night, a dilapidated, abandoned building stood silhouetted against the moon. A streamer, a camera strapped to his head, pushed open a rust-eaten iron gate, the beam of his high-powered flashlight cutting through the darkness. “What’s up, folks! Daredevil Dave, your number one Myth Smasher, coming at you live.” “Tonight, we’re at a location that’s become a hotspot for ghost hunters over the last three years. The story goes that Clara Ashworth, the heiress who was cast out by her family, threw herself down a well right here, turning this place into a seriously haunted house.” “Yesterday, her family contacted me. They want me to get to the bottom of it. So tonight, we’re going to uncover the secrets of this so-called haunted mansion!” The yard was choked with weeds, and the mournful cries of a few night birds echoed under the chilly moonlight, making the scene feel unnervingly strange. The live chat was already exploding. 【Clara Ashworth? You mean that evil bitch they found and brought back to the family?】 【I heard that after she moved in, she used her ‘real daughter’ status to frame the adopted one, Lily, over and over. Then she tried to poison Lily, but her own father drank it by mistake!】 【Damn, she deserves to rot. The Ashworths should have never taken her back!】 【Almost killing her own dad? She’s worse than an animal!】 Someone else chimed in with more gossip: 【Heard when they kicked her out, she stole a bunch of jewelry and stuff. Probably came here to party and live it up every night…】 【For real? But this place looks creepy as hell. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘party central.’】 【Plus, people say they hear a woman crying here at night. Totally gives me the creeps…】 【What do you know? She was probably scared her family would find her, so she had her ‘fun’ here! Crying? Please. Probably just noises she made while she was getting wild. If you know, you know!】 Watching the fiery debate in the chat, my brother’s voice cut in, low and grim. “We thought she might have learned her lesson, but instead, she’s resorting to these sick games to curse us. Dave, please, show everyone what she’s really up to.” My parents urged him on. “Yes, we can’t let her continue this madness!” The chat went into a frenzy. 【Whoa, so the haunting is fake? She’s still alive?】 【What a psycho! Dave, go in there and expose her!】 Daredevil Dave chuckled. “I’ve said it a thousand times, folks. There are no ghosts in this world. Just people causing trouble.” “Tonight, I’ll show you exactly what kind of game this wicked heiress is playing.” His righteous declaration earned a wave of cheers and a flood of digital gifts in the livestream. Dave raised his flashlight and waded through the tangled weeds into the yard. He stopped at the edge of the old, dry well where I was rumored to have ended my life. A massive stone slab covered the opening. Moss crawled over the stone, and in the ghostly moonlight, you could see several dark, dried bloodstains on its surface. On the video call, Lily clutched her head and let out a pained cry. “That’s it! In my dreams, Clara was there… biting her own finger to write a curse, saying she would trap me in that well for eternity…” My brother comforted her. “Don’t be afraid, Lily. Her pathetic black magic can’t hurt you.” My father spat, his voice filled with rage. “All this hocus pocus! I’d like to see what kind of trick she can pull from the bottom of a well!” Dave found a crowbar and started working on the stone. Ten minutes later, panting, he finally pried the massive slab away. He aimed his flashlight into the abyss. A gasp escaped his throat. “Holy crap! What the hell is this?” The moonlight poured into the well, but instead of the expected glint of water, there was only a pit of impenetrable darkness. A foul, rotting smell drifted up, and Dave pinched his nose, taking a step back. 【Whoa! Did the evil bitch actually jump?】 【I remember three years ago, after they threw her out, she did a livestream, crying. She said she didn’t poison anyone and that she’d prove her innocence with her life!】 【Don’t fall for it! There’s no water in the well. She couldn’t have drowned. How could she kill herself by jumping in? It’s so fake!】 Dave pulled on a mask and tied a rope around his waist. “Only one way to find out! If she really did it, her bones will be down there.” 【Dude, are you insane? What if it’s real? You don’t want to piss off a vengeful spirit…】 Dave pulled out a silver medallion. “Look, I don’t believe in ghosts. But even if there is one, this little baby will send it packing.” The chat erupted in laughter. I managed a bitter smile. These strangers, who had never met me, were filled with such malice, all based on whispers and rumors. They didn’t care about the truth; they only cared about the version of justice they’d constructed in their minds. How pathetic. At the bottom of the well, Dave found only a few animal skeletons. And a strange, yellowed piece of parchment. My mother recognized it instantly. “That’s a hex! That’s Lily’s name and birthdate on it! She’s really cursing my daughter!” The chat exploded. 【Holy shit, she’s pure evil!】 My brother explained that he and my parents had been having nightmares recently, dreams where they could hear me crying. They had considered looking for me, but Lily had tearfully begged them not to. “Clara came to me in my dreams, too,” she sobbed. “She said she’d find a way to make you take her back. And when you did, she promised she’d make my life a living hell!” Her words were enough. My parents and brother promised they would wash their hands of me, leaving me to my own fate. But soon after, Lily started having accidents—a sudden fever, a near miss with a car. Fearing for her safety, the family had decided to call in a paranormal streamer to expose whatever game I was playing. Now, seeing the hex, my brother’s hands clenched into fists. “The police searched this place three years ago. There were no animal bones or hexes in this well then. This has to be Clara’s doing!” My father’s voice was laced with fury. “And she has the nerve to haunt our dreams, claiming she was framed. It’s clear she just wants to make sure we never have a moment’s peace!” “But… if she can visit our dreams, does that mean something really happened to her?” my mother murmured, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. As if to answer her, a cold, unnatural wind swept through the yard. Dave’s flashlight suddenly died. The chat freaked out. 【WHOA DUDE, YOU STILL ALIVE?】 【I’M GONNA PEE MY PANTS, DON’T DO THIS TO ME!】 Before Dave could say anything, the livestream cut out. “Did something… actually happen to Clara?” My parents and brother stared at their phones, a nervous energy filling the room. The comment sections on social media were already buzzing. 【Dave’s been streaming for five years, and his feed has never just cut out like that! Something’s seriously wrong!】 【What if we were wrong about the real daughter? What if she’s actually dead? Oh god, please forgive our ignorance…】 A dark glint flashed in Lily’s eyes. She buried her face in my mother’s arm and cried, “If something really happened to Clara… then who put those things in the well to curse me?” “Maybe… maybe I should just leave the Ashworth family. Then she won’t have any reason to curse you all.” “It’s all my fault,” she whispered. “I made her go down the wrong path…” Any shred of concern my family had for me evaporated, replaced by cold fury. “It was her own petty, jealous heart. How could you possibly blame yourself?” “If she hadn’t been constantly trying to drive you away three years ago, your father would never have been poisoned.” “We kicked her out to stop her from doing something unforgivable! It had nothing to do with you!” At this, my brother slammed his glass down on the table. “I can’t believe she’s still pulling these stunts. She doesn’t deserve to be part of this family!” My mother agreed. “That’s right. We will never let her back in!” My father snorted. “When the stream comes back on, we’re going to make sure the entire world sees her for the monster she is!” Five minutes later, Dave’s stream was live again. He had climbed out of the well and was grinning into the camera. “Positive energy, folks! Just a bad signal. And the flashlight ran out of batteries!” 【You scared the hell out of us! So… are you still gonna check out the house?】 Dave declared that since he was already there, he had to do a full sweep. He walked to the front door of the house and pushed it open. A blast of cold, musty air rushed out, carrying a cloud of dust. The broken windows rattled in their frames. Empty liquor bottles littered a table. 【Damn, she was really living it up in here. Look at all that booze!】 Dave’s flashlight then caught something on the floor—several empty condom wrappers. 【She was definitely sleeping around with a lot of guys here!】 “These things… they were confirmed to belong to Clara. The police documented all of this back then,” my brother stated flatly. As soon as he said it, the chat filled with insults, calling me a slut. “We asked the police to keep it quiet at the time, to protect what little was left of her dignity.” “But now… after being gone for three years, she’s using black magic to harass our family and curse Lily. We’re not protecting her anymore!” 【That’s right! That ungrateful bitch doesn’t deserve to be your family! Dave, find more evidence! Nail her to the wall!】 As the crowd’s anger reached a fever pitch, a scraping sound, like fingernails on wood, echoed from the second floor. 【What the hell was that?! Maybe you should get out of there, Dave. I’m scared…】 “We have to be scientific, folks! I’m going up there to see who’s trying to spook us!” Dave said, his voice a little shaky as he grabbed his silver medallion and headed up the stairs. It turned out to be nothing more than the wind pushing a tree branch against a windowpane. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. But then, a pair of eyes glowed in the darkness. 【AHHH! A GHOST!】 Dave fought to keep his legs from turning to jelly and shone his flashlight toward the glowing eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud. It’s just a stuffed rabbit.” The moment he picked it up, the rabbit spoke. “My family found me at the orphanage today. Mom cried and said she was so sorry, that it was all her fault I was switched at birth at the hospital.” “Dad said he’d never let me suffer again.” “And my brother gave me this little rabbit. It can repeat what you say.” “I’m so happy. I finally have a family.” My own voice, young and hopeful, startled Dave, but he quickly realized what it was. “Is that… Clara’s voice?” My brother’s tone was heavy. “That was my gift to her. I think… I think it had a recording function.” The chat exploded. “Whoa? That must have been recorded like, five or six years ago. Her voice is so young!” Dave quieted the chat and gently pressed the toy again. “There’s another sister at home. She’s dressed like a princess.” “When Mom saw her crying, she held her and comforted her for a long time.” “Dad and my brother told me that her name is Lily, and she’s our family, too. They said thanks to her, Mom wasn’t so sad all those years.” “I understand. I’ll love my sister, too.” … Hearing this, Lily’s voice choked with a sob. “But she didn’t love me. She hated me…” My brother put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and motioned for Dave to continue. “Today, the butler’s son called me a hick. My brother punched him hard.” “The butler almost called the cops, but I said I did it.” “Mom was furious. She sent me to bed without dinner.” “My brother snuck a piece of chicken into my room. He asked me why I took the blame for him.” “I said I was scared the police would take him away. He laughed.” “He said he’d get arrested a hundred times to protect his little sister.” “This is what it feels like to have a big brother. It’s the best feeling in the world.” Dave looked surprised. The chat was scrolling wildly. 【Huh? The evil bitch was once this sweet?】 【Maybe something happened to make her change?】 My brother stared at the rabbit, his mind drifting back. He remembered telling me I was just like that bunny, soft and lovable. What had happened to that gentle, kind sister to turn her into the person she became? Lily tugged at his sleeve, crying. “Clara wasn’t always bad, brother. Please, don’t hate her for this.” As she spoke, she casually brushed her hair back, revealing a deep, ugly scar on her forehead. The sight snapped my brother back to the present. His expression hardened with disgust. “You’re always too kind, Lily. She’s the one who gave you that scar. Don’t you dare defend her.” 【Whoa, that scar is from her? Never mind, can’t trust a word she says!】 Dave frowned and pressed the rabbit again. “My sister didn’t come home tonight. It got really late.” “Dad was about to call the police when she finally showed up, her dress torn, her head bleeding.” “She fell to her knees in front of me and begged for forgiveness.” “She said she knew she was wrong to compete with me for Mom and Dad and brother’s love.” “She begged me to stop sending people to hurt her, and she promised she’d leave home right then.” “My brother was so angry. He wanted to call the police and have me arrested.” “I cried. I told them I didn’t do it… I really didn’t.” “My sister pleaded for me.” “She said we couldn’t let a scandal like that get out, especially since I’d only been back with the family for a year.” “For the first time, my whole family looked at me with disgust.” “They made me move into the storage room. They told me to think about what I’d done.” “I’m so lost. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?” Dave paused again. He was confused. The recordings were filled with Clara’s desperate pleas for her family’s trust. She didn’t sound like someone who would bully her sister. Someone was lying. Noticing his suspicious gaze, Lily buried her face in her hands, weeping. “Why would Clara twist the truth like that? She knows what those people almost did to me…” she wailed. “Would I really use my own reputation, my own safety, to frame her?” The chat was once again filled with rage. 【So this monster started her crime spree way back then!】 【And she has the nerve to record herself playing the victim? Disgusting! Find her and throw her in jail!】 Amid the storm of curses, a thin crack suddenly appeared on the silver medallion in Dave’s hand. Everyone was shocked, asking him what had happened. His face paled, and he shushed the chat, pressing the rabbit again. But the next recordings were just more of my lonely ramblings, my desperate yearning for family, and my terror at the bizarre things that kept happening. Every incident somehow pointed to me, and no one ever believed I was innocent. I sounded heartbroken. “Little rabbit, why don’t Mom and Dad and brother believe me?” I cried in one recording. “Is it because I’m not as perfect as my sister?” So, I channeled my grief into determination. I started studying relentlessly. Finally, I was accepted into a decent state college. I was ecstatic, mainly because the school was far from home. I threw myself into a new life, and the recordings filled with my joy about college and the new friends who actually cared about me. Dave’s expression softened. It seemed that a change of scenery had done me good. But the rabbit’s next words sent a shockwave through everyone watching. “Why won’t they believe me?” “I didn’t seduce my sister’s boyfriend… I swear I didn’t.” “It was New Year’s Eve. We all had too much to drink.” “I just woke up and he was in my bed.” “My sister cried and asked me why I would steal him from her. Mom and Dad and brother called me shameless.” “I begged him to tell them the truth, but he said… he said I dragged him into my room when he got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.” “I didn’t do it. Why would he lie about me?” “My sister didn’t believe me either. She ran out of the house, crying, and was almost hit by a car.” “Dad hit me for the first time. But I really, really didn’t touch her boyfriend…” Hearing my choked sobs, Dave’s brow furrowed. He glanced at Lily on the screen, searching her face for something, anything. The medallion cracking wasn’t a coincidence. Something was very wrong. Lily threw herself into my mother’s arms, whimpering that her leg, the one injured in the accident, was aching again. My brother scoffed. “Her lies might fool a ghost, but not us. We know exactly what she’s like.” My father’s anger flared. “She’s a compulsive liar! She almost poisoned me to death, and you expect anyone to believe her?” Someone in the chat snarked: 【This recording is so fake. So the whole family just misunderstood her over and over again? Yeah, right. I’m not buying it.】 My heart ached, but I couldn’t make a sound. No one noticed the single drop of water, like a tear, that traced a path down the dusty mirror behind Dave. He pressed the rabbit again. “I went to the hospital to see my sister today. I saw her hand her boyfriend a debit card.” “She told him he’d put on a good performance.” “It was all an act to frame me!” “I confronted them, but then Mom and Dad and my brother arrived.” “Her boyfriend threw the card in my face. He said it was from me, that I paid him to keep tormenting my sister.” “I screamed that they were lying, that it was all a setup. My sister threatened to jump off the roof to prove her innocence.” “They believed her. They kicked me out of the house.” “I don’t have a home anymore…” 【Just check whose name is on the card, problem solved, right?】 My brother laughed, a cold, harsh sound. “We checked. The card was in Clara’s name.” 【Well, there you go. What’s she playing innocent for? So gross!】 Dave remained silent, pressing the rabbit one last time. “The dean called again about my tuition and dorm fees.” “I tried to call my brother to borrow some money, but he called me a liar and a thief.” “But I’m not lying. And I didn’t steal anything.” 【What a joke. If she was so broke, how was she partying and living it up here?】 My brother’s voice was dripping with contempt. “She didn’t steal? Then how did my mother’s jewelry and the cash from my father’s safe just disappear?” “If we weren’t trying to spare her some public humiliation, we would have called the cops on her long ago!” Dave noticed another crack spiderweb across the medallion. “It’s been three months since I dropped out of school.” “I was waiting tables at a hotel and saw my family celebrating Christmas Eve with Lily.” “My brother told me to stop making a scene and get lost.” “My dad said if it wasn’t for the family’s reputation, he’d have me thrown in jail.” “But I don’t have money for my treatment. Is it a crime to work?” “The doctor said if I don’t get treatment soon, my stomach cancer will get worse.” “I don’t want to die.” 【She was sick? Why didn’t she tell her family? It’s another lie, isn’t it?】 Dave pressed the rabbit, and it provided the answer. “It’s New Year’s Eve. My sister begged the family to let me come home.” “I was going to tell them about the cancer.” “But after my father drank the juice I poured for my sister, he collapsed. He’d been poisoned.” “The dose was small, thank God. He survived.” “He made a public statement disowning me.” “Everyone called me a monster. I had nowhere left to go.” 【Serves her right. You play with poison, you get burned!】 A desperate, broken wail came from the rabbit. “I tried to go back to get my medical records, but a group of drunk men knocked me out.” “When I woke up, the records were gone. And those men… they had violated me.” “Someone kind called the police.” “But the men they arrested said I was willing, that I did it for money.” “And there was a pile of cash under my bed.” “My parents called me disgusting. My brother told me to stop making up excuses for being a whore.” “He said if I couldn’t handle living, I should just die and stop shaming the Ashworth name.” “Should I? Should I just die?” The recording stopped. No matter how many times Dave pressed it, the rabbit remained silent. 【If she was assaulted, where did all the booze, condoms, and money come from?】 【Jesus. She almost kills her dad, then comes back here to screw around with a bunch of guys? She probably lied about being assaulted because she was scared of getting caught.】 【The police already investigated the scene. She probably faked her suicide, took the money, and ran. This recording is just a pathetic attempt to look innocent.】 【And then, when she got bitter, she came back to put a curse on the adopted daughter!】 【What a psycho! Someone needs to find her and lock her up for good!】 With every comment, the netizens hammered another nail into my coffin. Dave was silent, his jaw tight. He knew this wasn’t the whole story. He turned, and that’s when he finally saw it. On the mirror behind him, streaks of water trickled down the dusty surface. Like tears. The air was bone-dry. Where was the water coming from? He looked up, following the drip to its source, and his eyes widened in shock. “There’s something wrong with this ceiling. I have to break it open.” He dug a hammer out of his bag and, aiming for a crack where the water was seeping through, he swung. With a single blow, the plaster shattered. Something fell from the hole. Instinctively, Dave threw the stuffed rabbit up to block it. 【HOLY SHIT! IS THAT… AN URN?!】 【Why is there a hex nailed to it?! That’s so messed up!】 Dave picked up the small urn and held the parchment with its strange writing up to the camera. My mother saw it and her face went ghost-white. “That’s… that’s Clara’s name and birthdate!” My father and brother stared, their mouths agape in disbelief. Just then, the rabbit—the one that had just been hit by the urn—spoke again. Its eyes lit up, and a triumphant, mocking laugh filled the air. It was Lily’s voice.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385136”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel