On my college graduation eve, my CEO fiancé Adrian gave me a lavish engagement party and a supplementary card, saying, “Spend whatever you want.” I avoided using it, which angered him. He insisted spending his money proved my love, so I ordered cheap takeouts to humor him. But when treating him to a fancy lunch, the card declined. I later found it had a $500,000 limit. Assuming he’d forgotten his own spending, I waited for next month’s reset. Instead, he confronted me at work, waving statements and calling me a gold digger for “maxing out half a million in three days.” He demanded the engagement broken and his money back. I handed him a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep the change. Buy yourself a nice coffin.” He threatened his attorney, but left green-faced after we settled. 1 “Willow Reed! What is the meaning of this? You run up a bill and now you won’t own up to it? You’re cursing me to die?” Adrian didn’t take the hundred-dollar bill. His face was flushed with rage. I shrugged and pulled out another one. “In total, I used your card for two meals. The grand total was $29.99. You march in here demanding half a million dollars, and I haven’t called the cops on you for extortion. I’d say that’s generous.” “What, is this not enough?” I added, holding out the second bill. “Take this, and please, get out of my sight.” He was too furious to believe I’d spent less than thirty dollars. He slapped the credit card statement onto my desk. “Stop playing dumb! Do you think the bank makes mistakes? Look at what you bought! I have never met a woman so fake and materialistic in my life!” The long receipt fluttered to the floor. I didn’t even bother to glance at it. A particularly nosy coworker picked it up. Her eyes went wide, and she shot me a look of disbelief. “Willow, you spend money like you’re eating it!” The statement was passed around, and I heard the items being read aloud. Luxury boutiques, jewelry stores, five-star hotels… Over a dozen transactions in three days. The $500,000 limit had been wiped clean. I snatched the statement back, my eyes scanning the page until they landed on the last two items. “These two charges for takeout are mine,” I said, pointing. “The rest has nothing to do with me.” Adrian laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “Willow, I never took you for this kind of person! The card was in your possession, the signature on the receipts is yours, and you’re telling me it wasn’t you? Who was it then, me?” “I’m a CEO. I sign deals worth more than that every day. Why would I need to scam you out of your pocket money?” That was a question I wanted to ask him, too. So I did. My question pushed him over the edge. He yanked at his tie and raised his voice, addressing the gawking crowd of employees. “I know you shouldn’t air your dirty laundry in public, but some people just don’t know when to quit! So I’ll ask all of you to be the judge!” “As you know, Willow and I have been betrothed since we were kids, a pact made by our grandfathers. When she graduated, I honored that promise. I threw her a grand engagement party, and to show my love, I gave her a supplementary card to use as she pleased. At first, she refused to spend a single penny, manipulating me into begging her to use it. And then—” He waved the statement, his voice dripping with ice. “—as you can see, she blew through $500,000 in three days. All on luxury goods!” “I could own a mountain of gold, and she’d still manage to spend it all!” Adrian was the boss—handsome, wealthy, and universally adored by his staff. In a situation like this, they were naturally on his side. The same colleagues who had been fawning over me minutes before, the CEO’s fiancée, were now looking at me with undisguised contempt. “Mr. Hayes, she’s just putting on a pure and innocent act. Refusing your money was just a tactic to make you beg her. That way, when she got caught, she’d have an excuse to blame you!” “Exactly! That has to be it!” “I couldn’t spend half a million in three years, and she did it in three days! And she’s not even officially Mrs. Hayes yet. Imagine what she’d do after the wedding!” “Poor Mr. Hayes, stuck with a fiancée like that…” “Honestly, just call off the engagement! These old-fashioned pacts are ridiculous anyway!” Adrian’s assistant, Isabelle, shot me a disdainful look and clung to his arm. “Mr. Hayes, some people just can’t handle temptation. Think of it as spending $500,000 to see her true colors. If you’d actually married her, you might have lost the whole company. We’d all be out of a job…” Spoken like a true loyal employee. The backhanded compliments and sharp insults slithered into my ears like venom. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the pen in my hand. Adrian, pleased with the outpouring of support, wrapped an arm around Isabelle’s shoulders. “Willow, if you needed money, you could have just asked. Why sneak around and max out my card? Now, you have two choices. Pay the money back immediately…” He paused, his eyes glinting with scorn. “Or we break off the engagement, and you pack your things and get the hell out of my company.” The office was silent. Everyone was waiting for my response. I met his gaze and smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. The engagement is off. But as for the money… I won’t be paying you a single cent.” 2 A collective gasp went through the room at my audacity. Isabelle’s eyes lit up with excitement as she added fuel to the fire. “Oh my god, how can anyone be so shameless? Thank goodness Mr. Hayes’s little test exposed you for what you really are!” “If you’d actually gotten married, you would have bled him dry, you materialistic leech!” I ignored her and pulled up the order confirmations for the takeout on my phone. “I’ll say it again,” I stated calmly. “I spent $29.99 of your money. If you think you can use this to extort me, you’re dreaming.” “As for this pathetic job, I’m not interested.” “Adrian, you’re fired. By me. And my last two weeks of salary? Keep it. You’ll need it for takeout when your company goes under.” I took a screenshot of the orders, dropped it in the company group chat, promptly left the chat, and grabbed my bag. Adrian’s face darkened as I turned to leave. He grabbed my wrist. “Willow! Don’t think you can just walk away from this! This isn’t over until you pay me back!” I pulled my hand free. “Mr. Hayes, I’ve sent you the proof. Take a good look at it before you come looking for me again.” Then, I walked out without a backward glance. I thought that would be the end of it. But I was wrong. Adrian took the story public. He connected my name to my university, turning it into a full-blown witch hunt. Soon, the scandal was trending online. #HonorStudentExposedAsShamelessGoldDigger #WhoWouldMarryThe500KIn3DaysGoldDigger #HandsomeCEOUsedAsATMByChildhoodFiancée The comments were a deluge of hate. As my personal information was leaked, my phone exploded with vitriolic messages. “How could your parents raise someone like you? You’re a disgrace! Just die already and stop tarnishing your school’s reputation!” “Proof that a degree has nothing to do with character. A woman like you isn’t worth a damn thing!” Someone even dug up my student ID and my thesis advisor’s information, demanding the university expel me to “cleanse its ranks.” The next day, my academic advisor called. “Willow, the university administration is taking this very seriously. Your honorary title of ‘Outstanding Graduate’… they might have to revoke it.” My hand tightened around the phone, my throat suddenly dry. “Professor, I didn’t make those purchases…” He sighed. “I know, but the public outcry is too much. The school’s reputation is on the line, and there’s pressure from… other parties.” I understood immediately. Adrian’s company was about to partner with the university’s research lab, creating a direct pipeline for graduates. This was a crucial time for job seekers. My personal scandal couldn’t be allowed to jeopardize everyone else’s future. I accepted the outcome calmly. The title didn’t matter much to me. At least the university wasn’t crazy enough to revoke my actual degree. But Adrian wasn’t finished. He used his industry connections to blacklist me. Every resume I sent out vanished into a black hole. I couldn’t even get an interview. Meanwhile, Adrian was making public appearances with Isabelle on his arm at every major industry event. On social media, Isabelle posted a photo of a limited-edition Hermès bag with the caption: So grateful for the boss’s generosity~ The location tag was a top-tier private club. Adrian liked it and commented: You deserve the best. That night, I received a text from him: “Willow, if you still want to be a CEO’s wife, here’s the deal. Pay back the $500k, sign a prenup, and promise me three kids in five years after we’re married.” “Be a good girl, and I’ll make sure you’re set for life, dripping in luxury for all to see.” “Otherwise, you’ll never find a job in this city again.” I stared at the screen and started to laugh. Adrian clearly had no idea that marrying me would have been the biggest upgrade of his life. Even if I never worked a day, I could live a life of carefree luxury he could only dream of. I didn’t bother with a lengthy reply. I just sent him a single word: Pathetic. I never imagined he would show up at my apartment that night with four bodyguards in tow. 3 The doorbell was being mashed with frantic energy. I opened the door slowly to find Adrian standing there, his face a thundercloud, flanked by four menacing bodyguards. “Willow Reed, you think you can just hide in here and it’ll all go away?” He sneered, pushing past me and barging into my apartment. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and watched him case the joint like a common burglar. His eyes swept over the jade carvings, the antique porcelain, and the classical calligraphy hanging on the walls. His expression grew uglier by the second. “Hah. Now I see how you had the guts to max out my card. You’ve had plenty of practice with your other sugar daddies!” He gestured at the priceless artifacts. “How many men did you have to swindle to fill this place up?” I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He walked over to the coffee table, picked up a blue-and-white porcelain cup, and scoffed. “So this is your game. You fill your apartment with fakes to look the part.” “I’ll give you this, the replicas are pretty convincing. But the glaze is too new. A dead giveaway.” I couldn’t help but smile. “You have a keen eye, Mr. Hayes.” It was, in fact, the only replica set in the entire apartment. He took my comment as sarcasm, and his gaze turned colder. “Willow, I don’t have time for your games. Today, you’re either paying back the $500,000 and signing these agreements, or our engagement is officially over.” “When your dream of marrying into wealth is shattered, don’t come crying to me!” “And don’t forget, your parents don’t have pensions. I won’t be taking care of them when they’re old…” Before he could finish, one of his bodyguards spoke up in a low voice. “Sir, does that look like the centerpiece from the Sotheby’s auction last week?” Adrian followed his gaze to the porcelain vase on the mantelpiece. It was a Song dynasty Guan ware vase. My father bought it for me at auction because he knew I’d think it was pretty. Adrian stared at it for a few seconds, his expression shifting, before letting out a dismissive laugh. “Willow, you certainly know how to pick your fakes. You even have the nerve to replicate the hottest item from a recent auction?” Looking at this man, a whole five years my senior, I felt a wave of profound relief that I wasn’t yet of legal age to marry. According to our grandfathers’ pact, I would have been his wife by now. To be tied to such a petty, conniving, and clueless man would have been the stain of a lifetime. I sighed and decided to show him the door. “Adrian, I can forgive your ignorance, but I won’t stand here and let you embarrass yourself in my home. It’s time for you to leave.” His face darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you really think I’m desperate to marry you?” “Let me tell you something. I built my success with my own two hands. I despise women like you who get by on their looks and their bodies instead of honest work!” “Your reputation is in the gutter. Besides me, who else would have you? If it weren’t for the promise between our grandfathers, I wouldn’t be wasting my breath on you!” I was done explaining. I walked over to the vase, picked it up, and turned it over to show him the bottom. “Look closely. This is the Sotheby’s authentication number. It’s one of a kind. The final price was eighteen million dollars.” “Do you really think I need your half a million?” “Out of respect for our grandparents, I could have just given you the money. But as it happens, I have a thing against moochers who expect handouts.” “So here’s the deal. You and your goons get out of my sight right now and never show your faces again, and I’ll consider dropping the matter of you slandering and harassing me online.” Adrian’s face froze. One of the bodyguards sucked in a breath. “Sir, she sounds very confident. Could there be a misunderstanding? And that vase… I think it might be real.” Adrian’s face was ashen. He snatched the vase from me, turning it over and over, his expression growing more panicked the longer he looked. He pulled out his phone and called Isabelle. “Izzy, doesn’t your brother work at Sotheby’s? Have him check who bought that centerpiece from the last auction, the one that caused that huge bidding war!” “And on your way over, bring my lawyer. The best one I have on retainer!” “She’s still denying she spent the money. I’m going to make her admit it today! If I don’t put her in her place now, what’s to stop her from walking all over me after we’re married?” If Adrian was that determined to be humiliated, I was more than happy to wait. Ten minutes later, Isabelle arrived with the lawyer and the information he’d requested. 4 “Mr. Hayes, I asked. That vase was bought by the richest man in the country. He gave it to his daughter to use as a flower vase.” Adrian’s face relaxed into an I-told-you-so smirk. Isabelle picked up the vase, examining it with a critical eye before sneering at me. “Willow, you really spare no expense to keep up appearances, do you? This is a very convincing replica.” The lawyer, however, took one look at the vase and his whole demeanor changed. He rushed forward, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses for a closer look. But before he could, Isabelle raised her hand— CRASH! The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the living room. The eighteen-million-dollar Song dynasty vase lay in a thousand pieces on the floor. I was stunned. Adrian, after a moment of shock, shot Isabelle a disapproving look. “Izzy, what are you doing? Even as a replica, that was worth a lot of money!” Isabelle’s lip trembled, tears welling in her eyes. “Mr. Hayes, it’s obvious Willow is never going to pay you back. I was just smashing one of her fakes to stand up for you. Why are you blaming me?” In front of me, Adrian’s tone softened as he gently wiped her tears away. “I’m not blaming you. I was just hoping we could get that money back so I could buy you a little condo to call your own.” “My most valuable employee deserves nothing but the best.” He shot a pointed look in my direction. “I hope some people understand the difference between them and you, and just sign the agreements. The line of women waiting to be my wife wraps around the city, you know.” I rolled my eyes, looking at him as if he were an idiot. “Adrian, maybe you should figure out who actually spent that $500,000 before you start making promises. Because the line of people trying to empty your bank account might be just as long.” A flicker of guilt crossed Isabelle’s face, and the tears started flowing freely again, sending Adrian into a fluster. I had no interest in watching their little soap opera. “Mr. Hayes,” I interrupted coldly, “since you’re so concerned with her feelings, I assume you’ll be covering the eighteen-million-dollar cost of that vase?” Adrian scoffed and moved to stomp on the shards. “Pay for a fake? Why would I? What’s the matter, you upset? I thought you said it was real. I thought you said you were rich. Why don’t you just go buy another one?” Isabelle’s tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smirk. The lawyer suddenly dropped to his knees, just barely managing to block Adrian’s foot. “Mr. Hayes, if I’m not mistaken… I believe this vase… is real.” Adrian and Isabelle froze. I had to admit, the lawyer Adrian had hired actually had a decent eye. But a second later, Adrian shoved him aside and ground the porcelain fragments under his heel. “Mr. Zhang, you’re a high-powered attorney, not an art appraiser. You heard her brother—the real one was bought by the richest man in New York for his daughter. How could it possibly end up here?” Isabelle gasped dramatically. “Unless… Willow was bold enough to steal it from his mansion?” “Or maybe,” she added with a sly look, “she’s sleeping with him, too?” Their ignorance was almost funny. “Alright, fine, I’ll come clean,” I said with a sigh. “The richest man in New York… he’s my dad.” Adrian and Isabelle exchanged a look and then burst out laughing. “Oh, god, Willow, I know exactly what your family is. ‘The richest man is your dad’? You mean your sugar daddy, right?” “But you know what? Since you’ve managed to snag a whale like that, I’ll be generous. We don’t have to call off the engagement. And you can forget about the $500,000.” “All you have to do is sign these agreements, and make sure your ‘dad’ sends some business my family’s way every year. I’ll be more than happy to help you keep up the charade.” I couldn’t believe his audacity. What did he take me for? A bargaining chip? If it hadn’t been for this whole credit card fiasco, I might have actually been fooled by his charming facade. Adrian took out the prenuptial agreement and scribbled his new conditions onto the page. “Willow, sign it.” Isabelle immediately protested. “Mr. Hayes, how can a promiscuous woman like her be your wife?” “Besides, if she really had a connection to someone that wealthy, do you honestly think she’d be eating cheap takeout? No way!” “I’m telling you, she’s just using his name to intimidate you, to trick you into marrying her! Don’t fall for it!” Adrian hesitated. He sighed, a look of profound resignation on his face. “Izzy, whether she’s a gold digger or not, once she signs this, she’ll be under my thumb.” “Besides, you know my father. If I don’t marry her, he’ll never give me control of the company.” So that was it. His willingness to marry me was just another business transaction. And Isabelle’s desperate attempts to stop the marriage… I was starting to suspect that supplementary card had something to do with her. How else could a junior assistant afford to be decked out in the latest designer collections? There was a good chance she was the one who had maxed out the card. I took the agreement from Adrian’s hand. “I’ll sign it,” I said slowly. “But first, let’s get to the bottom of that $500,000 bill.” The lawyer, Mr. Zhang, had used the time to discreetly survey the other treasures in my apartment. The look in his eyes had shifted from contempt to something bordering on fear. He knew. He had figured it out. He probably even believed me now. Good. Then he could be the one to deliver the final blow. I glanced at him, and he immediately cleared his throat. “Mr. Hayes, you hired me today to verify this statement. I will not be involved in any other matters.” A flicker of unease crossed Adrian’s face, but he waved a hand dismissively, giving Zhang the go-ahead. As Zhang began to cross-reference the items on the statement, Adrian’s bodyguards started searching my apartment for the purchased goods. And to their credit, they actually found two of the items from the list. Zhang’s expression shifted again, and Isabelle looked smug. “Adrian,” I said suddenly. “How many supplementary cards do you have?” He answered immediately, without hesitation. “Just the one I gave you.” But I saw the flicker of panic in Isabelle’s eyes. I knew she had one, too. In a flash, I snatched her purse and dumped its contents onto the floor. And there it was. A credit card, identical to the one Adrian had given me. Isabelle panicked and lunged for it. I slapped her across the face, hard, and handed the card to Zhang. “Check this one,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “I have a feeling the truth is about to come out.” “As long as you maintain your professional integrity, Mr. Zhang, I can guarantee your career will go much, much further.”

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When I left Adrian Schwimmer, everyone thought it was a tragedy. After all, I was the woman who had been by his side the longest, the one with the best chance of marrying him. I had even given him twins, a boy and a girl. The day I told him I was leaving, Adrian was lounging on the sofa, rattling a toy to amuse the babies in their crib. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never see these two little ones again,” he said, his voice casual. “You’d better be sure.” I nodded. “I’m getting married. He doesn’t mind that I’m older, that I’m not a beauty, and he doesn’t care about… you and me. I want to marry him.” The rattling stopped. A long moment passed before a slow, careless smile spread across his face. “Fine,” he said. “Be my guest.” He was so utterly unconcerned. That’s why later, when he systematically destroyed my husband’s company, forced me into a divorce, and stood before me with our children in his arms, begging me to just give him a scrap of affection… I couldn’t believe it was the same man. 1 I was the Schwimmers’ ward, raised from childhood for one purpose: to be Adrian’s wife. As a little girl, I was lovely. But as I grew up, my looks settled into a quiet plainness. Among the parade of stunning models and socialites Adrian dated, I was a clumsy, homely shadow. He didn’t love me. But I had been with him for many years. A fixture. So, he allowed me to carry his children. The twins were doted upon by his parents, the most cherished grandchildren of the Schwimmer dynasty. Everyone whispered that it was only a matter of time, that I was destined to marry Adrian. Until the day I chose to leave. 2 It was a late autumn evening. The villa was bathed in a warm, golden glow, a fortress against the encroaching chill. Adrian was on the plush sofa, a silver rattle in his hand, teasing the infants in their cradle. I placed a platter of sliced fruit on the coffee table in front of him. And then I told him I wanted to go. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never see these two little ones again,” he said, his tone light. “You’d better be sure.” “I am.” I twisted my fingers together. “I’m getting married. He doesn’t mind my age, or that I’m not beautiful, or… my history with you. I want to build a life with him.” The motion of his hand froze. A beat of silence, then a lazy, almost amused smile touched his lips. “Fine. If you’ve made up your mind, then go. Whatever you want.” He was the picture of nonchalance. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Men of his stature often possess a terrifying possessiveness. The women they mark as their own, loved or not, are rarely allowed to leave. Thankfully, Adrian wasn’t like that. I dried my damp hands on my apron. He had already turned back to the twins, the rattle dancing in his hand again. “Mommy doesn’t want you anymore,” he cooed in a singsong voice, dripping with mock pity. The babies’ startled cries erupted, filling the room with piercing wails. My body went rigid. I turned and fled. 3 When the news got out, a procession of people came to reason with me. Adrian’s mother flew back from Europe. She held my hands, her voice a soft, persuasive melody. “You have his children, Kate. You have a lifetime of history together. Who could possibly compare to that? These women he sees now… they’re just pretty faces. They don’t have a fraction of the connection you share. The title of Mrs. Schwimmer has always been meant for you. You’ve waited a decade, my dear. Why give up now?” I kept my head down, silent. I had heard these words, or variations of them, a thousand times. From the day I turned eighteen, through my pregnancy, and after the twins’ first birthday. Adrian’s girlfriends came and went like seasons, yet the “inevitable” wedding I was waiting for remained a distant, ever-receding horizon. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Schwimmer,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, finally looking up to meet her gaze. “I’m done waiting.” I pulled a vibrant, crimson-colored envelope from my purse. An invitation. “I’m getting married next month. I hope you can be there. As my mother.” Her lips trembled, but she took it, sighing. She had brought me from the orphanage, raising me as her own. She was the only mother I had ever known. “Of course, I’ll be there. But please, think about it one more time. Adrian cares for you, truly. He just… has a terrible way of showing it.” She continued to sing his praises until her throat was dry. She reached for her tea, but the invitation was snatched from her hand. 4 Adrian had just returned, a gust of winter air clinging to his overcoat, his cheeks flushed with cold. He flipped open the invitation with a condescending grace. A low chuckle escaped him as he examined the cardstock—cheap, with rough edges. “Has your taste really fallen this far?” he murmured, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Even if you weren’t with me, you didn’t have to throw yourself away on the first man who’d have you.” “It wasn’t like that,” I whispered, clutching the hem of my dress. “He was my friend at the orphanage. He’s brilliant and he’s so good to me. He just doesn’t have money right now… but I know he’ll do great things.” A dismissive smile played on his lips. With a sharp, deliberate motion, he tore the invitation in two. CRACK. “Adrian!” his mother gasped, a mixture of shock and anger in her voice. “What are you doing?” He ignored her, his gaze fixed on me. “If you’re leaving, you leave with nothing. The jewelry, the clothes, the penthouse my mother gave you last year, the shares… you leave it all behind. If you’re so eager to struggle with another man, you won’t do it carrying a single shadow of the Schwimmer family. Understand?” I had expected this. I nodded. “I know.” “And if I recall correctly,” he drawled, his eyes slowly raking over my body, “the dress you’re wearing… I bought that for you too.” He gestured lazily toward the front door. “Take it off. And get out.” 5 The blood drained from my face. Mrs. Schwimmer shot to her feet, ready to argue, but she withered under the icy glare Adrian shot her. A butler appeared, respectfully but firmly escorting her from the room. Her lips trembled as she looked back at me, her eyes filled with apology. She had no real power over him, not anymore. “Don’t you dare go too far, Adrian,” was all she could manage to say as she was led away. Adrian only smirked. He leaned back against the sofa, spreading his legs in a posture of complete dominance. “Well?” he taunted. “Why aren’t you undressing? Weren’t you so determined to leave? What’s the hesitation? Second thoughts? Missing the money already? Or is it me you can’t bear to leave?” His voice dripped with condescending poison. “If you want to stay, just say the word. No one’s forcing you out—” His words caught in his throat. Because, with tears blurring my vision and my hands trembling uncontrollably, I had risen to my feet and begun to unbutton my dress. Piece by piece, the clothes fell to the floor, pooling around my bare feet. His expression hardened, turning darker with every item I shed. His eyes burned as they scanned my body, and then he let out a harsh, guttural laugh. “You have some nerve!” The mask of indifference was gone. He was furious. With a roar of rage, he swept the tea set from the table, shattering porcelain against the marble floor. He strode toward me, snatched a cashmere throw from the back of the sofa, and roughly wrapped it around my trembling body. He pointed a shaking finger toward the door. “Get out!” he bellowed. 6 Snow was falling outside, thick and silent. The wind howled, a mournful cry that cut through the air. I sat on the top step of the porch, the thin blanket the only thing covering my naked skin. My teeth chattered violently. I was waiting for the man I was going to marry to come and get me. The lights were on in Adrian’s second-floor study. Through the sheer curtains, I could see his tall, imposing silhouette. He was standing at the window, watching me. Unmoving. I could almost imagine the faint glow of a cigarette between his fingers. The cold was seeping into my bones, a deep, numbing ache that made my blood feel like slush. I closed my eyes and curled into a tighter ball, refusing to show any weakness. I knew what he was doing. He was waiting for me to break, to come crawling back and beg for forgiveness. His earlier indifference was a facade. The reality of my departure had finally sunk in, and his pride was stinging from the perceived betrayal—the audacity of his possession wanting to leave. This was his act of mercy. A chance for me to repent. All I had to do was turn around. A low rumble cut through the silence as tires crunched on the gravel driveway. A battered black van pulled up to the gates, its paint peeling, one of its taillights dark. It was as out of place in this neighborhood of pristine luxury as a weed in a rose garden. The driver’s door flew open and a man scrambled out, his face etched with panic. When he saw me, his eyes reddened instantly, shimmering with unshed tears of pure anguish. “Kate!” He rushed forward and swept me into his arms. A hot tear fell from his cheek and landed on my chest, a stark contrast to the freezing air. “I’m here,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to take you home. We’re going home.” 7 His name was Leo. We had known each other as children in the orphanage. Honestly, I had forgotten him completely. Until a few months ago, when he found me. He told me I was the white moonlight of his life, the one pure and beautiful memory he had held onto. He said he would do anything for me. Anything. I let the word echo in my mind, and a bitter smile touched my lips. “Then can you marry me?” His arms, which were supporting me, went stiff. He stared at me, first with stunned confusion, then with an explosion of radiant joy. “Really? I can marry you? Is something this good actually happening to me?” I watched him, my expression unreadable. After so many years with Adrian, I was an expert in deceit and ulterior motives. But looking into Leo’s eyes—so clear, so bright—I could find no trace of falsehood. It was all genuine, heartfelt emotion. But… genuine affection? Was I even worthy of something like that? A woman used and discarded by Adrian Schwimmer, a woman who had debased herself for a life of comfort, who bore his children without ever earning the dignity of his name—I was little more than a high-class prostitute. The thought almost made me laugh out loud. “Are you sure you want to marry me?” I pressed. He nodded without hesitation. “Then go and die.” The words were pure malice, designed to wound and drive him away. I expected him to recoil in anger, to leave me there in the snow. Instead, his eyes widened in disbelief. “Do I… do I have to die to marry you? But then you’d be a widow. Can we not do that? I’m very healthy! I can even help you change lightbulbs!” I was speechless. I learned later that Leo had been adopted by a wonderful couple. He grew up surrounded by love and warmth, a life that was the complete inverse of my own. It had nurtured in him a personality that was a little naive, a little silly, but fundamentally good. When he said he wanted to marry me, he meant it. From the moment I’d said yes, he had been meticulously planning our small wedding. 8 Leo tried to lift me and carry me to his van. He’d barely taken two steps before a wall of men in black suits surrounded us. The Schwimmer family security—all former special forces, built like brick walls, their faces grim and imposing. The head butler, Mr. Henderson, bowed respectfully. “Miss Kate,” he said, his voice polite but firm. “Mr. Schwimmer has instructed me to inform you that if you wish to leave, you must first repay the family for the expenses incurred in your upbringing and care over the years.” He paused. “The total comes to twenty million dollars.” I poked my head out from the blanket. My body was so numb with cold that even a figure that astronomical failed to register as anything more than a distant sound. I glanced back at the second-floor window. Adrian’s silhouette stood there, a dark and powerful presence looking down on the scene below. The aura of oppressive control radiated from him even from that distance. “He really is a heartless bastard,” I murmured. Mr. Henderson’s expression softened with pity. “Miss Kate, if you would just apologize to the master… this would all go away. You know you hold a special place with him.” “Special? What’s so special about being treated with the same ruthless cruelty as everyone else?” I let out a low, humorless laugh. I snuggled deeper into Leo’s embrace, my bare arms wrapping around his neck. “Leo,” I whispered, my voice trembling theatrically, “what do we do? That’s so much money. I’m so scared.” His arms tightened around me, and he gently patted my back. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice a comforting rumble against my ear. “I’m here.” He was nervous; I could feel the tension in his body. His family was comfortable, but a sum like that was beyond his wildest imagination. Yet, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even consider letting me go. He held me closer, took a deep breath, and looked the butler in the eye. “We will pay what is owed,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady. “But you can’t just name a price. We’ll need an itemized list, proof of these expenses.” The butler’s smile never wavered. “Of course. The documentation will be prepared shortly. In the meantime, to prevent Miss Kate from catching a chill, perhaps you would both care to wait inside?” He made a graceful gesture toward the villa. Leo, who had just graduated college and was used to being polite, instinctively started to comply. “Don’t,” I whispered, tapping his arm. I stopped him, then tilted my head back, my eyes finding the shadowy figure in the window. I smiled, a cold, sharp thing. “Mr. Henderson,” I said, my voice carrying clearly in the cold air, “please be so kind as to inform your master that if he does not let me leave today, I will smash my head on these gates until I am dead. And he knows I am a woman of my word.” 9 The butler was gone for a long time. So long that I started to drift off, lulled by the warmth of Leo’s body. He held me without complaint, though I could tell his arms were tiring. He dipped his head, his forehead gently brushing the tip of my nose before he straightened up again, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Kate,” he murmured, “you smell so nice…” A slow, deliberate clapping sound echoed from the villa’s entrance. The sharp click of leather shoes on marble followed. I looked up. Adrian stood there, leaning against the doorframe, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He watched us with a lazy, mocking expression. “All this drama,” he sneered, “just to marry yourself off to someone so… pathetic?” I closed my eyes, refusing to look at him. “Please, Adrian. Just let it go. You have no shortage of women. I’m begging you…” “I was willing to let it go,” he said, his voice turning dangerously smooth. “But there is the matter of the Schwimmer family code. I’m sure you remember it. For those who break a vow to the family… the punishment is thirty lashes. Do you recall?” He looked at me, a glimmer of triumph in his eyes. “The rules are the rules. My hands are tied. Endure the thirty lashes, and I will not stop you again.” For a moment, my mind went blank. I knew the Schwimmers were an old family, bound by archaic traditions and vows. But Adrian was the head of the family now. His word was law. The entire clan depended on his favor. If he chose to ignore a rule, no one would dare question him. He was doing this purely to torture me. The silence that followed his words was absolute, broken only by the howling wind. Mr. Henderson looked at me, then at Adrian, a deep sigh escaping him. “Miss Kate, please, just apologize to him. The master was already making preparations for your wed—” “Silence!” Adrian’s voice was like a whip crack. He cut the butler off, his sharp, fox-like eyes boring into me. Seeing no sign of surrender, he turned his cold gaze back to Henderson. “Open the family hall.” 10 The Schwimmer family’s private hall was a vast, solemn chamber lined with portraits of ancestors, their stern eyes following your every move. It was cold and imposing. I knelt on the freezing marble floor, dressed in clothes borrowed from a maid, a sharp pain already shooting through my knees. The family rules dictated that all members be present to witness a punishment. The room was filled with faces—some I recognized, some I didn’t. Many of them had always resented me, and now their eyes shone with unconcealed glee. “I knew it. I knew Adrian never truly cared for her. So what if she had his children? She’s still just trash.” “It’s a pity, really. Once the mother has been disciplined by the family, her children can never be considered for inheritance.” “Thirty lashes… Will she even survive?” The whispers swirled around me, a cloud of naked, undisguised malice settling on my shoulders. I remembered a time, long ago, when I had witnessed a punishment here. I had clung to Adrian’s sleeve, terrified, and asked if I would ever have to kneel here like that. He had stroked my hair, his smile gentle. “Silly girl. You’re mine. Who would dare touch you? I’ll always protect you. Don’t be afraid.” Now, the man who had promised to protect me was wiping dust from a long, leather whip with a silk handkerchief. He was going to administer the punishment himself. I closed my eyes, my body trembling. The click of his shoes approached. The tip of the whip tapped my shoulder lightly. He didn’t look at me, but at the portraits of his ancestors. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he said, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. A bitter smile formed on my lips. “There’s no turning back for me, Adrian.” “Isn’t there?” He leaned down, his face close to mine. His thumb gently wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “With me by your side, you could set the world on fire and no one would dare question you. Come back. I will marry you. You will be the matriarch of this family. All these people who mock you now will grovel at your feet. Think about it, Kate. Don’t be stubborn.” For a man as proud as Adrian, a man accustomed to being worshiped, these words were the closest he would ever come to pleading. His dark eyes were fixed on me, his intention perfectly clear. He was waiting for me to take his hand. One word, and my future would be paved with gold and glory. I looked up, meeting his intense gaze, my fingertips tingling with a strange, exhilarating thrill. And I heard myself say, “I can’t, Adrian. I’ve fallen in love with him. I’ll marry him or no one.”

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Three years with Ethan Hayes, and our relationship still came with a price list. Dinner: two thousand dollars. A date: ten thousand. One night in his bed: thirty thousand. Then one day, I found out I was pregnant. My brain took a few seconds to reboot. I stared at the man across from me, all aristocratic distance even in a hospital gown, and asked him point-blank: “Ethan, do you have a hundred million dollars?” 1 He was completely baffled. He was wearing an oversized, sterile-white patient gown, but it did nothing to diminish the sharp, handsome lines of his face. His dark eyes, intense and focused, locked onto me. “What’s this about?” “Why are you asking that all of a sudden?” He let a slow, wicked grin spread across his lips, a look that seemed entirely too healthy for a sick man. “What, you want to work your way up to a hundred million?” “Ahem.” I nearly choked on my own spit. “That’s not what I meant, obviously. I mean…” The words what if I had your baby for a hundred million were right on the tip of my tongue, but then his expression shuttered. “If that’s not what you meant, then drop it,” he said, his voice clipped and cold. “There’s nothing for us to talk about.” That familiar, heartless indifference sent a chill through me. Right. How could I forget? Ethan Hayes was a devout member of the no-marriage, no-kids club. We’d agreed from day one: no messy feelings, no talk of love. This was purely a physical arrangement. If he found out about the baby… He’d assume I’d engineered the whole thing, a honey trap to secure a payday. Forget a hundred million; he’d probably demand I pay back every cent he’d ever given me. Better not. I silently tightened my grip on the clinic report tucked in my purse, making sure to keep it hidden behind my back. “Oh. It was nothing, then.” Ethan didn’t press the issue. He never had any real feelings for me anyway. He just needed someone to have dinner with. And to share his bed. But this month had been… inconvenient. His two-hundred-thousand-dollar quota for my time had already been maxed out by the middle of the month. So… As the man pinned me against the stiff hospital bed, his lips tracing a path down from my earlobe, my body went rigid. The moment his fingers grazed the top button of my blouse, a jolt of panic shot through me. I scrambled away from him, putting a good three feet of distance between us. “The monthly limit has been reached!” I announced, my voice a little too loud. “We can’t do… that!” Ethan’s handsome face clouded over with irritation. He stared at me, his voice oozing with the casual arrogance of the ultra-rich. “I’ll pay more.” “No!” Pay more for what? So he could accidentally jeopardize the baby? For the first time in our arrangement, me, the girl who would do anything for money, said no. Ethan’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion in their depths. My heart hammered against my ribs. I blurted out the first lie that came to mind. “I’m… I’m not feeling well this month. And I’m swamped with work. The most I can do is keep you company while you’re sick. Nothing else!” With that, I turned to leave, desperate to get away before he somehow discovered the secret I was hiding on my phone. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His voice was as cold and hard as ever. “So, the only way I can see you this month is if I’m sick?” I thought about Ethan’s year-round gym habit. The man was built like a bull. I nodded decisively. “That’s right! Only when you’re sick!” 2 A shadow passed over Ethan’s deep-set eyes. He looked like he was about to say something else, but just then, the doctor walked in, clipboard in hand. “Mr. Hayes, good news. It’s just a common cold, probably from taking a cold shower in this weather. Nothing serious. You’re clear for discharge.” A cold shower? What kind of maniac takes a cold shower in the middle of winter? Was he nuts? I shot Ethan a look you’d give a complete idiot. I sent a silent prayer to the universe: please, let the baby inherit his father’s looks. But for the love of God, not his brains. “Alright, you heard the man. You can go home,” I said, backing toward the door. “So, let’s just not see each other for the rest of the month, okay? See you next month, Mr. Hayes!” See him next month? Not if I could help it. I fled back to my apartment like a fugitive, frantically throwing a few things into a suitcase. I had to find somewhere to go, somewhere Ethan would never find me while I figured out this whole pregnancy thing. My best friend, Sarah, was stunned when I told her. “You’re… you’re just going to keep it? Just like that?” “Of course!” I said without a sliver of hesitation, stuffing another sweater into my already-full luggage. “You know my story. I grew up with no family, a total orphan. My whole plan was to save up enough money to go abroad, do IVF, and make a family for myself.” I beamed. “Well, look at this! My little family just showed up ahead of schedule!” And with Ethan’s genes, the kid was guaranteed to be gorgeous. My mind made up, I pulled out my phone to book a flight—any flight out of here. Sarah still looked hesitant. “But the month isn’t over yet. What if Ethan gets sick again and calls you?” “Not a chance,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. “The guy’s a beast. He works out every single day. There’s no way he gets sick twice in one month…” Before the words were even out of my mouth, my phone rang. It was Ethan’s assistant. “Ms. Miller, good evening. Mr. Hayes has been admitted to the hospital again. He’s asking if you could come by.” As if sensing my hesitation, the assistant added, “This is, of course, within the terms of your monthly retainer. We would appreciate it if you could come promptly.” Same hospital, same private suite. In the span of one week, I made the trip seven times. Yes. Once a day. Monday, it was a fever. Tuesday, another cold. Wednesday, he broke out in a rash. Thursday, he sprained his ankle… After a full week of this, I stood over the hospital bed, looking at the man who was now covered in a patchwork of bandages and minor injuries. For the first time, I began to seriously question the physical fortitude of this titan of industry. “Ethan,” I began, “do you have an inner-ear problem? Maybe an issue with your motor skills?” How else could a man sprain his ankle three separate times just walking out the hospital doors? And dislocate his shoulder? Ethan’s eyes, cold and sharp, flicked up to meet mine. “Are you questioning my abilities?” “No,” I said, speaking the honest truth. It wasn’t his abilities I was questioning. It was his intelligence. Can stupidity be inherited? I wondered, my eyes scanning him from head to toe. My gaze unconsciously paused on a certain area— Suddenly, his hand shot out and yanked me forward. I stumbled, a gasp escaping my lips as his scent—clean, masculine, and overwhelmingly familiar—enveloped me. Before I could react, he cupped my chin, his mouth crashing down on mine in a brutal, possessive kiss. “Mmph—” The force of it was too much. I’d been fighting off waves of morning sickness for days, and the sudden movement sent a violent lurch through my stomach. I struggled, trying to push him away, but his grip only tightened, pinning me against him. He moved against my lips, his voice a low, guttural growl against my mouth. “You won’t even let me touch you…” “Gag—!” And then it happened. I threw up. A splash of indeterminate liquid sprayed across the front of his pristine white hospital gown. He froze, his face a mask of pure fury. “Zoe Miller! Are you that disgusted by me? You actually threw up from a kiss!” 3 I couldn’t explain. There was no way to explain. Looking at his furious expression, the undisguised revulsion in his beautiful eyes, an idea—a desperate, brilliant idea—flashed in my mind. “Yes!” I declared, my voice shaking but firm. “I’m sick of you! I don’t want to play this game anymore! We’re done!” Ethan didn’t try to stop me. He just stared at me, his gaze cold and piercing, for a long, silent moment. Finally, he asked, his voice low and dangerous, “Zoe, are you sure you know what you’re saying?” The deep, powerful timber of his voice was laced with a pressure that was almost physical. And then… Blech. I threw up again. This time, it was more violent, a series of heaves that felt like I was trying to turn myself inside out. Jeez. Ethan’s temper was explosive, and it looked like the baby had inherited it. I was so consumed by my own misery that I didn’t see the flash of raw hurt in Ethan’s eyes. By the time I could breathe again, he was gone. Only his assistant remained, holding out a sleek, black credit card. “Ms. Miller, Mr. Hayes asked me to give you this. He said it’s a severance payment.” A titan to the very end. Even his breakups were generous. But… As I watched his silhouette—limping slightly, impossibly lonely—disappear down the long, sterile corridor, a strange ache bloomed in my chest. “Honey, you’re in love with him.” Sarah’s voice was matter-of-fact from the passenger seat of the taxi speeding toward the airport. “No way,” I retorted, clutching my stomach as another wave of nausea rolled over me. I took a sip of water, forcing it down. “It’s a business transaction, that’s all! How could I possibly be in love with him?” Sarah just shrugged. “No need to get defensive. It’s obvious he’s into you, too.” “Why else would he give you a black card?” “Because he has more money than he knows what to do with!” My heart gave a painful thud. Ethan likes me? Impossible. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, trying to ignore the sour knot of sadness in my gut. “He’s never been anything but cold to me. How could that be love? Besides, everyone knows about his college girlfriend, the great lost love of his life. They say he’s never gotten over her. He couldn’t possibly fall for someone like me.” I bit my lip, a sadness I couldn’t name welling up inside me. Sarah sighed. “I don’t know what kind of soap opera you two are starring in, but I bet you if you called him right now, he’d come running.” Me, call Ethan? You’ve got to be kidding. In three years, I had never once initiated a call. He was always too busy. He wouldn’t pick up. And besides… I rested a hand on my still-flat stomach. “I’m about to leave this city for good,” I murmured. “We’ll never see each other again…” My words were cut short by the deafening screech of tires and a massive, violent impact. My world tilted sideways, then went black. 4 I woke up in a hospital. As my eyes fluttered open, a young nurse holding a chart beamed at me. “You are so incredibly lucky. It was a huge accident, but you just have a small scrape on your forehead and a minor concussion. No other injuries.” She leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes shining. “Your boyfriend was so worried, though. He insisted we run a full battery of tests. Seriously, where did you find a guy who’s that handsome and that devoted?” Boyfriend? Who? Did I have one of those? I was still trying to process her words when Ethan strode into the room. He looked like he’d been through a war. His usually immaculate overcoat was smudged with dirt, and his deep eyes were locked on me with an intensity that felt like it could pull me under. The boyfriend… she couldn’t possibly mean him, could she? The nurse turned to him. “See? The test results are all back. I told you your girlfriend was perfectly fine.” The test results? A jolt of pure ice shot through my veins. I stared at him, my mind racing. Oh God, please don’t let him know. Please. The tests were for the crash, not for… not for inside stuff, right? I prayed, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. But my hope was shattered by the low, cold timber of his voice. “Zoe Miller, you’ve got some nerve.” He took a step closer, his shadow falling over me. “Thinking you could run away with my child?”

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On my best friend’s birthday, I gave her a wishing system. She had no idea it was from me. Overjoyed, she made a wish of unparalleled cruelty. 【I wish Audrey Prescott becomes a public utility. Something for thousands of people to get in and out of, day and night!】 The good news: As the gift-giver, I could hear her silent wish. The bad news: I’m Audrey Prescott. 1 Today was Jenna’s birthday. I’d invited a few friends over to my place for a small party to celebrate. Jenna and I had been inseparable since middle school, the kind of friends who shared everything. That bond held strong through college, and we were more like sisters than anything else. For her birthday this year, I’d wired her $25,000. But I also had a special surprise just for her. A wishing system. I’d acquired it by chance after my cumulative donations to the Children’s Literacy Fund hit the ten-million-dollar mark. It was a one-time-use item, but it could grant its holder a single wish. The system had its limits, of course. It wouldn’t grant wishes that involved murder, fraud, or anything illegal or morally bankrupt. It was meant for things like winning the lottery or becoming stronger—wishes I didn’t particularly need. So, just a few moments ago, I had discreetly gifted the system to my best friend. 【Congratulations, Host. You have successfully bound to the Wishing System.】 【This system will grant you one wish.】 【Please make your wish.】 The system was now linked to her. Jenna looked completely bewildered, her eyes wide with the kind of panic you see in someone who thinks they’ve just seen a ghost. “What the hell was that!” I turned away, pretending to scroll through my phone, hiding a smile behind my hand. I’d had the exact same reaction when the system first bound to me. But I knew that in a moment, her confusion would turn to absolute ecstasy. Sure enough, a few minutes later, after the system had explained its function, a visible wave of excitement washed over her. Because I was the previous owner, I had the option to listen in on the current holder’s thoughts and the system’s responses. This feature would expire once the wish was granted. 【Can you really grant any wish I make?】Jenna thought, her mind racing. 【Yes!】 【Then I wish…】 【To make a wish, you must clasp your hands, close your eyes, and remain silent. Otherwise, the wish will be invalid.】 The ritual was specific and couldn’t be altered. If she was interrupted or broke the pose, the wish would be voided. But as she looked at me, something in her eyes felt strange. It wasn’t joy. It was closer to gloating. A flicker of discomfort went through me, but I pushed it down. I slid the birthday cake closer to her. “Make a wish, birthday girl!” The lights in the living room dimmed on cue. Jenna closed her eyes, her hands clasped tightly together. I watched the corners of her lips tremble, trying to suppress a smile. I found myself getting excited, wondering what she would choose. She’d talked endlessly about wanting plastic surgery, about becoming a famous actress and making a fortune. I knew she struggled with her appearance and craved wealth. I assumed she’d be torn between wishing for a huge lottery win or a complete physical transformation. But instead, surrounded by her friends, she spoke to the system with a chilling piety. 【I wish for Audrey Prescott to be utterly ruined! I wish her family’s company goes bankrupt! I wish she gets a terminal illness! I wish she would just drop dead right now!】 2 For a second after she made her wish, I thought I was hallucinating. What did she just wish for? Who did she want ruined? Whose company bankrupt? Who terminally ill? Who did she want to drop dead? Me? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It wasn’t until the system responded to Jenna that the reality crashed down on me. 【Host, you have one and only one wish. The current request contains too many wishes. Please make a new wish.】 Jenna was visibly disappointed. 【What? Why only one? It’s so hard to choose! Fine… then just have Audrey Prescott be ruined!】 【I wish for her to be gang-banged!】 What! Did she have any idea what she was saying? Confirming her wish a second time, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I just stood there, frozen. Had she been possessed? This was Jenna—my Jenna. We were sisters. We told each other everything. Why would she do this to me? A slideshow of our life together flashed through my mind, every shared laugh and secret now feeling like a lie. Looking at the slight, triumphant curve of her lips, a deep chill spread from my core. She looked exactly the same as she always did. Had she always been like this? A two-faced monster? All smiles and friendship to my face while secretly wishing for my death? The betrayal from the person I trusted most in the world sent a surge of pure, unthinking rage through me. I was about to raise my hand, to shove her and break the ritual— Then I heard the system’s voice again. 【Wish rejected. Prohibited keywords detected.】 Jenna fumed internally. 【What? You’re a wishing system! What do you care about prohibited words?】 Hearing the system reject her wish, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Thank God for the restrictions. It wasn’t some lawless genie that would grant any twisted desire. But the relief was short-lived. My heart, which had just settled, leaped back into my throat with her next wish. 【Make Audrey Prescott be forced to have sex with multiple men!】 【Detecting 325,478 individuals named Audrey Prescott. Please specify the target.】 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to be forced to have sex with multiple men!】 【Wish rejected. The request displays illegal and criminal intent.】 Jenna! Her eyes were squeezed shut, her brow furrowed, a desperate and distorted smile playing on her lips. I stared at her, my anger boiling. What had I ever done to deserve this level of hatred? I searched my memory, my conscience, and came up with nothing. I had never, ever wronged her. How could she be so vile? And she still had the nerve to call herself my best friend. After being rejected repeatedly, Jenna was getting agitated. And she wasn’t the only one. Our friends were getting restless. “Jenna, it’s been like ten minutes. What kind of wish takes this long?” “Come on, Jenna… it’s just a birthday wish, a tradition. Don’t take it so seriously.” The expressions of our friends shifted from patient amusement to annoyance. Two of the girls who had been standing beside her gave up, rolling their eyes as they walked away from the cake and back toward the media room to sing karaoke. The others waited a little longer, but when Jenna still didn’t move, they exchanged bewildered looks and started to snicker. Jenna heard their laughter. It made her even more anxious and angry. But she couldn’t open her eyes, or the chance would be gone. She kept her face serene, but inside, she was roaring. See! They’re all laughing at me! This is all your fault! You can’t do this, you can’t do that! What kind of useless system are you? The system, however, was indifferent to her tantrum. It replied with its monotonous, mechanical voice. 【Please make a new wish.】 3 Jenna was running out of options. She gave up on the overtly illegal wishes, abandoning her obsession with me being assaulted or violated. But her next attempts weren’t much better. 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to have a promiscuous sex life and contract HIV.】 【Wish rejected. Request violates public order and morality.】 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to fall in love with her own father and have his child!】 【Wish rejected. Request violates ethical and moral principles.】 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to fall from a building and become a quadriplegic!】 【Wish rejected. Request contains uncontrollable variables.】 … I could only laugh. A cold, hollow sound. Each wish was a masterclass in malice, completely rewriting my definition of the word “vicious.” Jenna was truly something else. I never knew she hated me this much. The sheer effort she was putting into crafting my downfall, twisting her own mind into such a dark place—it was almost impressive. Honestly, you’d think I had murdered her entire family. And through it all, she still considered herself my “best friend.” The candles on the cake had burned down completely, leaving waxy, red lumps pooled on the frosting like bloody droppings. It was disgusting. Jenna had been “wishing” for over half an hour now. She just stood there, ignoring everyone. When people tried to talk to her, she’d just shake her head, her brow furrowed, refusing to open her eyes. Her bizarre behavior made everyone uncomfortable, and one by one, they started making their excuses and leaving. As the host, I was the only one left, forced to listen to her dark, venomous fantasies. Now that I knew her true colors, there was no way I was going to let her succeed. The system was a gift and I couldn’t take it back, but I could still disrupt the ritual and make her lose her chance. Just as I moved to do it, the system made a sudden announcement. 【Host’s morality is judged to be corrupt. Wishing eligibility is being revoked.】 Jenna’s strange smile twisted into a mask of pure rage. 【You’re playing me!】 Ha! I never saw that coming. A small laugh escaped me, and I sank back onto the sofa, my hand dropping to my side. 【System unbinding in: 5】 【What? Unbinding? You lying piece of junk! You can’t grant a single wish, and now you want to unbind? You’re useless!】 【System unbinding in: 4】 【I’m sorry! Wait! Wait! I take it back, don’t unbind!】 【System unbinding in: 3】 【Let me try one more time! I won’t wish for that stuff! I’ll phrase it differently!】 【System unbinding in: 2】 【I wish for my best friend, Audrey Prescott, to become a public utility! Something for thousands of people to get in and out of, day and night!】 Heh. She just wouldn’t quit. After all those failed attempts, did she really think a simple change in phrasing would work? Did she take the system for an idiot? 【System unbinding… Wish detected. Request meets criteria. Wish will be granted.】 【Granting wish. Please stand by…】 What! How could it grant a wish that was so obviously corrupt? I had trusted the system, trusted its filters, but somehow Jenna’s wish had slipped through. “No!” I lunged forward, reaching out to push her over, to do anything to stop this. But in the next second, a violent, tearing pain exploded through my body. It was unbearable. I collapsed to the floor, screaming, my entire body convulsing. It felt like something was ripping me apart from the inside, forcing its way into every cell. The pain was too much. I blacked out. And just before I lost consciousness completely, I saw Jenna finally open her eyes. A slow, triumphant smile spread across her face. 【Congratulations, Host. Your wish is being granted…】

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The day my childhood sweetheart urged me to divorce my vampire husband, I started seeing the comments. They floated in the air like ghostly text messages, visible only to me. 【OMG, girlie, no! The second you sign those papers, the main characters are going to sell you off as a blood thrall!】 【Sweetheart, you have no idea. You’re about to abandon a Seventh-Order vampire lord to run off with that manipulative jerk?】 【NOOOO, MY SHIP CANNOT SINK! Can’t the female supporting character just… accidentally eat the divorce papers or something?】 The next second, with my vampire husband watching, I stuffed the entire document into my mouth and swallowed. I offered him a weak, sheepish grin. “I guess I was just… really hungry.” 1 Matthew Malins stared at me, his crimson eyes filled with a quiet confusion, trying to decipher my endgame. I suppose anyone would think I was insane. One second he was signing the papers, the next I was swallowing them whole. I guiltily avoided his gaze, my voice barely a whisper. “If I told you I lost a game of Truth or Dare with a friend, and the dare was to ask for a divorce and then eat the papers in front of you… would you believe me?” A fresh wave of comments erupted in derisive laughter. 【LMAO, she would’ve been better off saying she was sleepwalking.】 【Girl, you can’t just take advantage of the fact that he’s obsessed with you and treat him like an idiot.】 【If he actually believes that excuse, I will personally go wash my hair while doing a handstand.】 I wanted to hide my head under the table, to stammer out another, better excuse. But Matthew simply nodded, his expression calm. His tone even held a trace of guilt. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault for not feeding you enough.” He paused. “What would you like to eat?” Me: “Huh???” The Comments: 【WTF???】 【He is so ridiculously whipped for her!】 【I vote she eats his Adam’s apple!】 【Seconded! Just drink his saliva!】 A rush of blood went to my head, and the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I want to eat… your cooking?” Damn it. Those perverted comments almost led me astray. 2 Without a word, Matthew rolled up his sleeves and walked into the kitchen. The black apron, cinched at his lean waist, gave him an air of domestic charm that was surprisingly potent. I found myself staring, mesmerized by his efficient movements. The summer air was thick and hot, and he casually undid the top button of his shirt. A single bead of sweat trickled from his temple, tracing a path down the elegant column of his throat. I had never realized how devastatingly attractive a man could be while cooking. Gulp. The sound of me swallowing was embarrassingly loud in the quiet room. Matthew’s pointed ears twitched, and he glanced in my direction, a questioning look in his eyes. The moment our gazes met, my toes curled in my shoes with such intense awkwardness I could have excavated a new basement. Just then, my phone rang, saving me from my mortification. It was Alan, my childhood friend. “Elara? I thought we agreed I’d pick you up after you divorced him. Why did you suddenly change your mind? Are you really planning to spend the rest of your life with that… cold-blooded animal?” A loud crash echoed from the kitchen. My heart seized. I frantically lowered the volume on my phone. The comments were unimpressed. 【Why are you bothering? A vampire’s hearing is superhuman. He can hear you even if you whisper.】 【Girl, if you actually listen to this guy, you’re on the fast track to becoming a human raisin.】 【I’m just saying, if she were even a little nicer to him, he wouldn’t have ended up cradling her corpse in his coffin later in the story…】 My fingers tightened on my phone, a chill running down my spine. I raised my voice, making sure Matthew could hear every word. “Don’t you dare spread rumors! My hus-band and I are doing great, thank you very much! Next time, try shaking the empty space in your head before you talk to me. Hearing your whining gives me a headache.” 3 I hung up and, for good measure, blocked and deleted his number. Matthew was standing at the kitchen doorway, holding a plate, a stunned expression on his face. I forced a gentle smile, a stark contrast to my usual cold demeanor. He blushed, the color creeping up from his neck to the tips of his ears. “The green beans… they might be a little overcooked,” he stammered. “It’s fine! If you made it, I’ll love it.” The next second, I was staring at the unidentifiable black objects on my plate, lost in thought. 【Go on, girl, keep smiling. Why’d you stop? You just naturally hate smiling?】 【LMAO, he heard her say ‘husband’ and got so excited he added five extra spoonfuls of soy sauce.】 I gritted my teeth, speared a… bean… with my fork, and swallowed it whole. “Who said, ugh, these are overcooked? Gag. They’re… fantastic.” It turns out, you can’t fight biology. That night, I was struck with a severe case of nausea and stomach cramps. I distinctly remember Matthew staying by my side all night, but when I woke up, he was gone. 【No way, did he blame himself so much his psychic energy went into a feedback loop?】 【I mean, her blood is supposed to stabilize him, right? She should go to the basement!】 【Please, she hates it when he touches her. You think she’d willingly let him drink her blood? He always just endures it alone.】 The more powerful the vampire, the more susceptible they were to these violent psychic instabilities. If they lost control completely, they devolved into mindless, blood-crazed monsters. 4 When I reached the basement, I found Matthew slumped painfully beside an ornate, velvet-lined coffin. The moment he saw me, he flinched and pulled his jacket tighter around himself, looking like a startled animal. I reached out, wanting to stroke his hair. “Don’t touch me.” His voice was cold, sharp, and it stopped my hand in mid-air. In the year we’d been married, Matthew had never spoken a harsh word to me. The sudden distance was a shock. “You… you just snapped at me?” “I’m sorry, I—I just…” He instinctively moved to comfort me, but as he did, his jacket slipped, revealing his true vampire form. His inky black hair had turned a shimmering silver, and his eyes glowed with an eerie red light in the darkness. He quickly shrank back into the shadows, turning his head away. “Don’t… don’t look at me. I’m hideous…” I took a step closer, trying to soothe him. “No, you’re not. You’re beautiful.” The air was still for a moment. He looked up at me, silver bangs falling over his eyes, looking utterly fragile. His voice was low but certain. “You’re lying.” 【Sigh. A while back, she had a nightmare and stumbled in on his vampire form. She freaked out and screamed that he was a disgusting monster. He hasn’t let her see it since.】 【You can’t really blame her. She watched her mother get killed by a vampire. Anyone would have trauma from that.】 【Am I the only one who’s noticed his psychic energy gets unstable every time she wears that one specific perfume?】 【There are good and bad people, and good and bad vampires. I just wish she would stop being so cold to him.】 I fell silent. 5 Seeing Matthew’s pain intensify, I bit my own finger and held it to his lips. He pressed his lips together, resisting, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead from the effort. I cupped his cheek, my voice a low, coaxing murmur. “Be a good boy. Open up.” He stared at my face, a dazed look in his glowing eyes. Seizing the opportunity, I slipped my bleeding finger into his mouth. The moment the blood hit his tongue, his entire body went rigid. A wave of primal excitement washed over him, and he began to lap greedily at the wound. As he became lost in the sensation, a mischievous thought struck me. I slowly pulled my finger away and used it to tilt his chin up. “Say ‘Master’ for me.” He was hovering in a haze between lucidity and delirium. The corners of his eyes were damp, his voice hoarse. “M-Master.” “Good boy.” As a reward, I offered him my finger again. A moment later, comprehension dawned, and he flushed with a mixture of shame and annoyance, the tips of his ears turning a shade of crimson so deep they looked like they might bleed. But he couldn’t stop himself from gently nipping at my fingertip. If only I had a muzzle for him, maybe a leash… the possibilities were… intriguing.

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I had been in love with Addison Vartan for ten years. The moment I found out he loved my sister, I gave up. That night, he was blind drunk. My first instinct was to call my sister. He snatched my phone and threw it out the window. “Still trying to push me away?” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “You’ve gotten bold, kid.” … After the world tilted on its axis, I told him, “Don’t worry. We’re both adults. I don’t expect you to take responsibility.” Addison’s eyes darkened. He pulled me into his arms. “Maybe not. But I need you to take responsibility for me.” 1 Addison Vartan came back the day before my birthday. I went to meet him, my heart soaring. I was a step too late. I saw him with my sister, Aurora, wrapped in an embrace. My childhood friend, Leo, sighed beside me. “I need to tell you something. You should probably brace yourself.” “What?” My gaze was glued to Addison. It had been so long. He’d gotten even more handsome. Aurora was saying something to him; he just listened, his expression coolly detached, occasionally nodding or murmuring a quiet assent. “Your sister is marrying him.” “Who?” “Addison.” The bouquet of roses I was holding slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor. Addison’s head turned, his eyes finding mine across the space. His gaze lingered on my face for a moment, just as blank and unreadable as ever. Leo grabbed my arm. “Hey, did you hear me?” I shook him off. “Don’t talk nonsense!” I loved Addison. My pursuit of him had always been loud, direct, and anything but a secret. My sister adored me. She would never, ever try to steal him away. I launched myself into Addison’s arms. He stumbled back half a step, catching me. I inhaled the faint, familiar scent of tobacco on his coat, my head swimming with delirious happiness. “Addison, did you come back just for my birthday?” “You’ve misunderstood.” He gently pried my arms off him, making me stand on my own two feet. “I have a temporary assignment. A business trip to the city.” I didn’t care about that. I pressed close to him again. “Do you have time tomorrow night, then? Can you come to my birthday party?” “Skye.” My sister’s voice was firm. She pulled at my sleeve. “Addison is very busy. Don’t be a nuisance.” I tilted my head back, my eyes wide with hope, looking only at Addison. “Stay out of this, Aurora. I want to hear his answer.” Our eyes met. His were sharp, a deep, impenetrable black. I couldn’t read a thing. But I knew that ever since we were children, he could never bring himself to refuse me. Except for that one thing: being his girlfriend. As expected, Addison let out a soft sigh. “If I have time, I’ll be there.” “Okay.” I beamed. “I’ll be waiting for you, Addison.” 2 At 11:46 PM, he came. “He’s on the rooftop, talking with your sister,” Leo told me. “Okay!” I was practically vibrating with joy, ready to sprint up the stairs. Leo grabbed my arm again. “Skye, please listen to me. Go on up, fine. But whatever you see, you have to be able to handle it.” “What is there to handle?” I brushed him off, unconcerned. I ran up to the rooftop, the name “Addison” ready on my lips. But the word caught in my throat, a hard, painful lump. I saw my sister, the one who had cherished and protected me my whole life. She reached up and untied the silk bow at her chest. She took Addison’s hand, which was resting at his side, and brought it up, placing it over her heart. “Addison, I’m in love with you,” she said, her voice trembling but clear. “I don’t know when it started, but by the time I realized it, it was too late to turn back. I know this is wrong, I know it’s not fair to Skye, but my feelings for you… they are just as strong as hers.” My own heart leaped into my throat. I prayed silently, fiercely. Reject her! Addison! You’re so good at rejecting people! But heaven wasn’t listening. I watched as Addison raised his hand. His fingers were gentle, deliberate. He took the ribbons of her undone bow and slowly, carefully, tied them back together. Then he opened his arms and pulled her into a hug. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear the words. Of course, I didn’t want to hear them. A tear slid down my cheek, a hot, silent drop that felt like it was falling straight into my soul. The two people I loved most in the world. On my birthday. Betraying me. Together. 3 I ran. Not home, not to school. I spent the next seven days and seven nights drowning myself in bars and clubs. Preston, some trust-fund kid who’d had a thing for me, finally saw his chance and stuck to me like glue. He opened a five-figure bottle of champagne, determined to get me wasted. My head was spinning, nausea rising in my throat. He kept pushing the glass toward me. “Skye, drink! If you don’t drink, you’re disrespecting me!” My hair was a messy curtain over one shoulder. I shot him a glare. “Don’t push your luck. What ‘respect’?” “Hey! If you don’t want to drink, fine, but why the attitude?” He was offended, calling over his buddies to back him up. The door clicked open. Like the hero walking into a movie, Addison’s entrance had an unreal, luminous quality. He stood tall, a cut above everyone else, his presence commanding. He was dressed in black, a palpable chill emanating from his sharp features. The restaurant manager scurried behind him, trying to stop him. “Sir! You can’t just walk in here! Who are you?” Addison ignored everyone. His eyes locked onto me, a storm gathering in their depths. He strode over, grabbed my wrist, and started pulling me out. Preston stepped in his way. “Hey, who the hell are you?” “You dare touch someone who belongs to me?” Addison didn’t say a word. He just lifted his gaze and leveled it at him. It was a look forged in crucibles Preston couldn’t even imagine, and it made the boy flinch. Preston started to bluster, but Addison had already turned to the stunned manager. “My name is Vartan.” “Vartan? As in, the Vartans?” “Holy crap! We can’t afford to mess with him!” “Come on, anyone can say that. How do we know he’s not bluffing?” The whispers rippled through the room, but no one dared to move. Addison let out a cold laugh. “Since you’re Skye’s friends, you’re my friends,” he said, his voice dangerously smooth. “Their tab tonight… put it on me.” He turned back to the now-terrified Preston. “May I take her now?” 4 A classic hero-saves-the-damsel moment. All I felt was that he was being a meddling busybody. Inside Addison’s black SUV, I asked lazily, “Did my sister send you?” He handed me a bottle of water. “What does she have to do with this?” The cap was already twisted open. So thoughtful. Worthy of being my brother-in-law. I didn’t take a sip. I screwed the cap back on and tossed the bottle into the back seat. “Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose.” The car screeched to a halt. I was nearly thrown from my seat. I whipped my head around to glare at him. His own expression was thunderous. “Skye Everett, can you stop with the sarcasm?” “You want me to talk to you nicely?” I sneered. “Fine. Beg me.” Addison would never beg me. He started the car again and drove me home in stony silence. I slammed the car door when we arrived, still ignoring him. He caught my arm, his voice laced with exasperation. “What will it take for you to talk to me properly?” I walked into the house and went straight to my father’s liquor cabinet, reaching for the strong stuff on the top shelf. Too high. I couldn’t reach. I heard Addison sigh behind me. He stepped up, easily retrieved the bottles, and handed them to me. I set them on the table. “Drink all of these, and I’ll talk to you properly.” Addison was allergic to alcohol. He wasn’t supposed to drink, ever. He looked at me, his gaze intense. “You promise?” “Of course.” I’d never seen him drink. The one and only time was on his 18th birthday. He ended up in the hospital. I sat by his bedside all night, crying my eyes out. When he woke up, I made him promise me. “Swear you’ll never drink again!” He was lying there, pale as a sheet, but he still managed a weak smile. He lifted his hand and gently tapped my nose. “I swear I’ll never make our little Skye cry again.” I was only in middle school then. That brilliant smile was seared into my heart. Even today, I couldn’t erase it. 5 Addison had lost his mind. He actually twisted the cap off one of my dad’s expensive whiskeys and started chugging it straight from the bottle. At first, I didn’t care. But then half the bottle was gone, and he still wasn’t stopping. No. Even without the allergy, drinking like that would destroy his stomach. I didn’t want him dying in my house. I snatched the bottle from his hand. “Stop it! You don’t have to drink anymore! I was wrong! It was a joke, okay? I won’t mess with you!” The alcohol had hit him hard. The corners of his eyes were red, the usual intimidating aura around him gone. He just stared at me blankly, murmuring my name. “Little Skye.” He kept saying it, and my own throat felt dry. This was a mistake. A terrible mistake was about to happen. No. Even though I loved him, I had my limits. A moral code. “Just sit here. I’ll get you some water.” I escaped to the kitchen and fumbled for my phone to call my sister. Before the call could connect, the phone was ripped from my hand. I turned to see Addison swaying behind me. He’d thrown my phone out the open window. We lived in a house, thank God. Otherwise, that would have been a crime. “Addison! What is wrong with you? You owe me a new phone!” He just looked at me, a dumb, drunken haze in his eyes. Then he reached out and pulled me into his arms. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. I could hear his heart beating against my ear. His warm breath ghosted over my skin, and his voice, deliberately low and raspy, was intoxicating. It was melting my resolve. “Still trying to push me away?” “You’ve gotten bold, kid.” 6 His kiss was a storm. Overwhelming, passionate. I never knew the perpetually cool Addison Vartan could be so fiery. At first, I resisted. Then, it became a battle of wills. It’s not like I was losing out, anyway. But I was no match for him. I was losing, badly. “Addison,” I mumbled against his lips, still trying to sound tough. “Tell me the truth. You’ve kissed a lot of girls, haven’t you?” He was dizzy, his arms tight around me. “Little Skye,” he slurred, “I’ll take that as a compliment on my natural talent.” Talent, my ass. I bit his lip. He wouldn’t open his mouth. I pinched his side in frustration. He gasped in pain, his lips parting, and I took my chance. And I lost again. I don’t know how it all happened. When I came to my senses, Addison was cupping my face, his handsome features softened with a tenderness I’d never seen before. “Are you going to push me away again?” I turned my head, refusing to answer. He was stubborn, pressing me for a response. He didn’t stop until a broken sob escaped my throat, until tears were streaming down my face. He sighed, as if he didn’t know what to do with me. He gently, tenderly, kissed the tears from my cheeks. “Little Skye,” he whispered. “I’m so in love with you.”

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Broke and starving, I did the unthinkable. I kidnapped Brook Tyler, heir to the Tyler empire. “Five thousand dollars,” I demanded, my voice trembling, “or I’ll have my way with you.” In the dim, cramped space of my studio apartment, Brook was on his knees, his hands bound behind him. He’d been tense, but the number that tumbled from my lips made him burst out laughing. “Five thousand? Who do you think you’re insulting?” he scoffed. “You might as well just have your way with me.” But his wallet only held five hundred dollars. I snatched the cash and bolted. Later, in the basement of his mansion, he tied me up in the exact same way. Suitcases filled with cash were piled before me. “Ava,” he said, his voice a low growl. “That’s fifty million.” “Tonight, you’re having your way with me.” 1 “Five thousand? Who do you think you’re insulting?” Brook’s laughter was sharp, his face flushing from pale to a deep crimson. “You might as well just have your way with me.” I stared at him, my carefully constructed bravado crumbling into panic. Grumble. My stomach betrayed me with a loud, pathetic growl. I hadn’t eaten in two days. If I hadn’t been so desperate, I never would have risked something as insane as kidnapping Brook Tyler. I just didn’t expect him to have so little regard for his own virtue. Given the choice between his money and his body, he’d picked his body. I guess it’s true what they say: the richer they are, the tighter their wallets. All I wanted was enough cash for a meal. Hearing my stomach’s protest, Brook cleared his throat, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Hungry?” I nodded, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me. I was starving, practically on the verge of blacking out. He looked at me as if I were a ticking bomb. He strained against the ropes, but they held fast. Defeated, he let out a sigh of resignation and shifted his hips forward, an absurd picture of a man marching to his own heroic doom. “Well, go on then.” Excuse me? What did he mean, go on? Was he telling me to take the money from his pocket? When I just stood there, frozen, he prompted me, a note of impatience in his voice. “You don’t know how?” he asked. “I can teach you. Just… be gentle.” A slow burn of red crept up the tips of his ears. Just checking his pockets. How hard could it be? I crouched down and my hands scrambled over the pockets of his expensive jeans. He was Brook Tyler, the golden boy of the city. He had to be loaded. I’d definitely picked the right target. The moment my fingers made contact, his entire body went rigid. His face, already flushed, deepened to a shade of scarlet. “Not there…” he rasped, his voice tight. “A little more… to the middle.” Following his lead, I slid my hand deeper into his pocket. I didn’t find a wallet, but my fingers brushed against something hard and searingly hot. I didn’t have time to process it. My vision was starting to tunnel from hunger. All I could think about was food. I must have pressed too hard. A low groan escaped his lips, and his body went slack, slumping against me. A rich, warm scent of coconut and almond enveloped me—a surprisingly sweet, gourmand fragrance. Of all the things for a man like Brook Tyler to smell like, he smelled like dessert. Damn it. Now I was even hungrier. 2 I redoubled my efforts, my fingers digging more frantically. But Brook had gone completely limp, melting into my arms like he didn’t have a bone in his body. It was annoying enough not finding any cash, but now he was making it impossible. His heavy breaths ghosted across my ear, sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I slapped his cheek, harder than I meant to. “What do you think you’re doing, rubbing up against me?!” His eyes were hazy, half-lidded. “Just hurry up,” he pleaded, his voice thick. “Stop torturing me.” Right. Being tied up must be uncomfortable. I could see that from the way he was squirming and whining. I continued my search. Finally, deep in his pocket, my fingers closed around what I was looking for. I pulled it out. Five hundred dollars. I’d hit the jackpot. It wasn’t the five thousand I’d demanded, but five hundred was enough to keep me afloat for a month. I completely ignored the dazed, flushed man at my feet. I ran. I didn’t see him lose his balance as I shot up, tumbling to the floor. And I certainly didn’t see the look on his face as he lay there, seething with a mixture of frustration and unslaked desire. 3 With money in hand, I made a beeline for the first food truck I saw and bought a loaded steak burrito—the kind of meal I only let myself dream about lately. As I ate, hot tears streamed down my face, mixing with the salsa. Two weeks ago, my family’s company had gone bankrupt. Drowning in debt they could never repay, my parents had jumped from the roof of their office building. Every asset we owned was seized. Overnight, the princess everyone envied became a penniless orphan. I left our mansion with nothing but a photograph of my parents. It was winter break, so the university dorms were closed. I’d never been one to save money. When disaster struck, all I had was enough to cover the deposit on a room in a cramped, run-down apartment. I found a part-time job at a 24-hour convenience store, surviving on the free lunch they provided. But two days ago, I’d shown up for my shift to find the store completely gutted, shelves empty. I messaged my boss. His reply came instantly. “Economy’s bad. Had to close up.” “But you haven’t paid me yet!” I typed back, my thumbs shaking. I’d worked there for almost a week. That was nearly eight hundred dollars. “You didn’t even make it through the trial period. What wages?” When I tried to reply, a single red exclamation mark appeared. He’d blocked me. Broke and jobless, my last lifeline was gone. I spent all of yesterday searching for work, with no luck. Today was more of the same. The world was spinning from hunger. And that’s when I saw him. Brook Tyler. I’d only seen him a few times at galas, but his arrogant charisma and infuriatingly perfect face had left an impression. He wasn’t in a tailored suit now, just a grey hoodie, leaning casually against the wall outside a Michelin-star restaurant, waiting for someone. Even dressed down, he drew stares. That face was a public disturbance. But he seemed drunk. His cheeks were flushed, and he swayed on his feet. Watching him, a dark, desperate idea took root in my mind. My life was already in ruins. What did I have left to lose? Taking advantage of his drunken state, I led him back to my apartment and tied him up. 4 It was only after I was full and warm that it hit me: Brook Tyler was still tied up in my apartment. Oh, God. Hunger had clouded my judgment. Now, with a clear head, I realized the catastrophic mess I’d made. Was I tired of living? This was Brook Tyler, a man who could crush me with a flick of his finger. I spent twenty dollars on a fancy boba tea as a peace offering and rushed back, my heart hammering against my ribs. I opened the door, my hands trembling, to an empty room. The ropes lay discarded on the floor. He was gone. Panic seized me. I hadn’t even gotten to apologize. Was he going to call the cops? Even if he didn’t, if he held a grudge, my life was over. My hands shook so badly I could barely pierce the plastic film of the boba tea I’d bought for him. I started to drink it myself. It was already getting cold. Maybe my life was, too. Trapped between the fear of the cops and the terror of Brook Tyler, I cried myself to sleep. 5 The next few days were a blur of anxiety. But thanks to Brook’s five hundred dollars, I survived the worst of it. At this point, I’d almost welcome being arrested. But he never called the police. I managed to find a new job as a caddy at an exclusive country club. The monthly salary was just enough to cover my tuition. If the tips were good, I might even have some money left over for living expenses. I changed into my uniform and waited for the guests I’d been assigned to. When I saw their faces, my blood ran cold. I ducked my head, hoping to become invisible. A group of four or five people strolled toward the green. Leading them was Brook Tyler. Of course. My luck was just that good. And on his arm was Maggie Vance, the daughter of my parents’ biggest business rival. While my family was in ruins, the Vances had been thriving. Rumor had it their families were planning to merge through marriage. That was another reason I’d been desperate enough to kidnap him. Maggie was draped on Brook’s arm like a designer accessory. So, the rumors were true. A bitter taste filled my mouth. I didn’t dare look at them, but as Maggie passed, her eyes scanned me from head to toe. Humiliation and fear made my hands feel clumsy and useless. Then, she smiled, a bright, predatory flash of teeth. “You must be our caddy for today. You look just like a friend of mine.” My voice was a strained whisper. “You… you must be mistaken.” “Hm, you’re right, I must be,” she mused, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “The young lady I know would never lower herself to being a caddy.” In my plain uniform, I was just another face in the crowd. Brook, standing beside her, was a portrait of aloof indifference. He hadn’t even glanced in my direction. The light in my apartment had been dim. Maybe he hadn’t gotten a good look at my face. If Maggie recognized me now, in this state, she would tear me to shreds for sport. But neither of them seemed to know who I was, and my frantic heartbeat finally began to slow. 6 As they played, Maggie deliberately brought up my family. “I heard the Zhou Corporation went under. And Ava’s parents… they actually jumped.” “I haven’t heard anything about Ava since. Do you guys know what she’s doing now?” “Someone said she’s working at a convenience store. Can’t even afford tuition.” Through it all, Brook acted as if he couldn’t hear them, focusing entirely on his game. Each comment was a fresh stab of pain. The Vances and the Zhous had been bitter rivals. My family’s destruction was her victory parade. I kept my head down, focusing on my work, trying to block them out. The entire game was torture. But something was off with Brook. For three solid hours, he didn’t sink a single ball. One of his friends finally ribbed him. “Hey, Tyler, what’s with the off-day? You’re usually a hole-in-one kind of guy.” “Yeah, man, you seem a little distracted.” “It’s gotta be the beautiful Miss Vance. Looks like love has made our golden boy’s hands unsteady.” I risked a glance in Brook’s direction and found myself caught in the pull of his dark, intense gaze. I immediately snapped my head back down, pretending to adjust a club. A low chuckle escaped his lips. “My hands are definitely unsteady,” he said, his voice smooth as silk but laced with ice. “But it might not be love. It could be rage.” A chill went down my spine. Did he recognize me? No, he couldn’t have. He’d shown no sign of it. I glanced at Maggie, who was laughing and chatting with her friends. Maybe the great Brook Tyler was just sulking because he wasn’t the center of attention. His friends, sensing the shift in mood, quickly dropped the teasing and went back to their game. 7 When the game finally ended, I helped Maggie pack up her clubs. As I was going through the inventory with her, she claimed one was missing. A limited edition, she said. Worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. More money than I could ever dream of repaying. I tried to explain, my voice shaking, but she immediately called for the manager. As a VIP member, her word was law. The manager stormed over and, without even asking what happened, turned on me. “Are you an idiot? Do you have any idea how much that club is worth?” he screeched. “We could sell you and not make enough to cover it!” Then, he plastered on a fawning smile for Maggie. “Miss Vance, she’s new, she doesn’t know any better. How about I fire her on the spot? Would that be acceptable?” Panic clawed at my throat. I had just found this job, a job that could actually support me. I couldn’t lose it. I apologized profusely to Maggie, insisting I hadn’t taken her ridiculously expensive club. But her friends all backed her up. No one believed me. Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. Suddenly, Maggie’s expression shifted. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “Ava Zhou. I never thought I’d see the day.” My body went rigid. She’d known all along. She had pretended not to recognize me just to watch me squirm. She had deliberately dredged up my family’s tragedy in front of her friends. And now, when I was at my most vulnerable, she was accusing me of theft. She knew I couldn’t pay. Faced with her blatant sabotage, I was helpless. All I could do was swallow my pride and keep apologizing. Her friends snickered behind their hands. “What do you expect from the daughter of a deadbeat? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Their baseless accusations rained down on me, and I could do nothing but stand there and take it. Brook stood beside Maggie, his face an unreadable mask of cold indifference. Did he think I was a thief, too? A wave of profound injustice washed over me, and the tears I’d been holding back finally fell. If my parents were still here, would any of this be happening? What was I supposed to do now? Life was already crushing me. Without this job, I might literally starve. “Why don’t you get on your knees for me,” Maggie said, her voice dripping with condescension. “Kowtow three times, and we’ll call it even.” The manager shot me a desperate look. “Ava, just do as Miss Vance says! We can’t afford to offend a VIP!” I had no choice. I closed my eyes in despair. If kneeling would let me keep this job, then I would kneel. I bent my knees, preparing to drop to the ground, when a strong hand clamped around my arm, pulling me up. The familiar gourmand scent of coconut and almond filled the air. “If I recall correctly,” a low voice drawled, “we abolished serfdom a while ago. The era of forcing people to their knees is over, isn’t it?” My heart stuttered. That voice… I turned my head and looked directly into a pair of deep, fathomless eyes. It was Brook.

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I’m the gold digger in this story, the woman who uses men to get money, power, and status. My twin sister, Annie, is the story’s heroine: proud, stubborn, and fiercely independent. She despises my methods; I mock her naivete. But when I overheard her deadbeat boyfriend laughing about what a cheap “independent woman” she was, I called her. “Did you hear that, Annie?” I asked, my voice cold. “‘Independent woman’ is a trap. It’s a pedestal they put you on so they can enjoy the convenience of not having to provide a thing.” “If you can use a man to get ahead, that’s a skill. Why wouldn’t you use it?” She said nothing. But the next day, I heard she finally kicked her cheapskate boyfriend of five years to the curb. 1 I became aware of my role in this story when I was very young. I knew I was the infamous gold digger, destined to use my beauty to climb a ladder of men, all for the sake of wealth and status. My sister, Annie Ashton, was the righteous heroine. Taking help from a man was a mark of shame for her; she had to do everything herself. The moment I understood her character design, I understood my own purpose. The author meant for me to be the foil, the dark reflection meant to prove a point: a woman’s life can only be built by her own two hands, never by relying on a man. For a fleeting moment, I was disheartened, just a supporting character in someone else’s narrative. But the feeling passed. So I wasn’t the protagonist. It didn’t mean my life had to be worse. If the author wanted so badly to condemn my choices, then I would show her a different way to live. And so, armed with my own interpretation of what a “gold digger” could be, I began my life within the pages of this story. 2 The differences between Annie and me were obvious even in kindergarten. At five or six, kids are all about playing and making friends, and the currency of friendship was snacks. Because we were identical and pretty, boys were always trying to give us candy. Annie would meet their hopeful eyes with a blank stare and a firm rejection. I, on the other hand, would always accept with a sweet smile. Annie never understood. “Anya, you don’t even like sweets. Why do you take them?” I looked at her and answered seriously. “Annie, they’re giving us snacks because they want to be our friends. They want us to say yes. Besides, their parents gave them those snacks to share. If they don’t give them to us, they’ll just give them to someone else. So why should we be ashamed to accept?” She turned her head away, a flicker of uncertainty on her face. I knew she loved sweets. I knew she wanted to accept. But she was trapped by the role she’d been assigned, the “independent heroine” label she didn’t even know she wore. “Next time someone offers you something,” I urged her, “just take it. Think of it as a gift to start a friendship.” Annie hesitated, then gave a small nod. 3 The next day, after school, a little boy approached Annie, his arms overflowing with snacks. He seemed to have gathered all his courage. “Annie,” he whispered, “these are for you. Will you be my friend?” I watched from the sidelines, curious to see what she would do. Annie looked from the boy to the mountain of treats in his hands. Her mouth opened as if to say no, but the word wouldn’t come out. Finally, a decision seemed to form in her eyes. She reached out to take the snacks. But a sharp voice cut through the air, stopping her cold. “Annie, what are you doing? You can’t just take things from boys!” We both snapped our heads toward the kindergarten gate. Our parents were standing there, their faces masks of disbelief. They hurried over, pulled Annie away from the boy, and began their interrogation. “Annie, how could you take snacks from a boy? At best, that’s just being greedy. At worst, it shows a complete lack of self-respect! A girl does not get things to eat by cozying up to boys!” The little boy, his face burning red, scurried away. Annie stood there, head bowed, as our parents lectured her. Several times, she glanced at me, her lips moving as if to speak, but she said nothing. She was probably wondering how we could have the same parents, yet I didn’t see this as a shameful act of a girl without self-respect. 4 After that incident, Annie became even more guarded. She refused all help and kindness from boys, determined to prove she could do everything on her own. In middle school, we were in the same class. Annie’s grades were good, but her chemistry scores were mediocre, keeping her stuck in the middle of the pack. Her deskmate, Peter Vance, was a chemistry whiz and consistently ranked first in our year. Peter, probably feeling sorry for his deskmate, tried several times to explain the problems she’d gotten wrong. Each time, Annie shut him down. “Thanks, but I can figure it out myself.” After a few attempts, Peter gave up. In a way, Annie was right. In the story, Peter was a total player. Our plotlines were even supposed to intersect. After his crush on my sister went nowhere, he was meant to turn his attention to me, the girl who looked just like her. And I, seeing his good grades and wealthy family, was supposed to fall for him, convinced I’d found a guy with potential. I was supposed to get so wrapped up in the romance that my grades would tank, and I’d end up in a mediocre high school. But a truly smart gold digger would never let that happen. I would take only what was useful from him and never let him distract me from my goals. 5 When Peter started showing interest in me, I didn’t push him away. Instead, I used his crush to my advantage, bringing him lists of problems I didn’t understand every day. After each tutoring session, I’d thank him with a small snack or a soda. One afternoon, after I’d packed up my books, he took a sip of his Coke and finally asked the question that had been on his mind. “Anya, why are you and your sister so different?” I turned his question back on him. “How are we different?” He tapped a long finger against his chin, thinking seriously. “She seems to hate relying on anyone. But you… you’re good at using people.” I smiled as I zipped my backpack. “Peter, ‘using’ is such a harsh word. I prefer ‘leveraging.’ Only the most capable men offer a woman leverage. So, I’m not using you. I’m acknowledging your value.” Peter had a big ego, and my words stroked it perfectly. He was completely won over. “You know, Anya,” he said, a grin spreading across his face, “I don’t mind being used by you. But…” His tone shifted. “When are you going to be my girlfriend?” I dangled a carrot. “When you help me get into Northwood Prep.” He smirked, full of confidence. “Is that all?” 6 As it turned out, for Peter, it was that simple. With his help, six months later I passed the entrance exam for the most prestigious prep school in the state with the second-highest score in the city. The first thing I did was block his number and all his social media accounts. Annie, who had gotten into the same school through her own hard work, was appalled. “You promised him you’d be his girlfriend if you got in. What do you call this?” I just shrugged. “How many girls has Peter played with? Is it only okay for a guy to mess with a girl’s feelings, but not for a girl to use a guy to get ahead?” Annie’s brow furrowed. “Anya, if you keep relying on men to succeed, you’ll regret it one day.” “I don’t mind,” I said coolly. “The grades I got with his help were real.” Annie looked at me like I was a lost cause. Our relationship, while never incredibly close, had been decent enough. But after that, she started to distance herself from me. I understood. She was the story’s independent heroine; of course she’d look down on my methods. We grew more and more estranged. It reached the point where people were shocked to learn we were sisters. “Wait, Anya and Annie Ashton are sisters?” “But they never even talk to each other at school!” It was true. We didn’t speak at school, and we barely spoke at home. 7 At home, Annie was the sun around which our family revolved, thanks to her innate protagonist halo. I was usually just part of the background scenery. Like tonight. Our parents had prepared a feast to celebrate Annie getting first place in her class. That was the only time they’d bring me up. “Anya, look at your sister. You scored higher than her on the entrance exam, but two years later, she’s at the top of the class. And you? Your grades are slipping. You’re not even in the top fifty anymore.” Their words didn’t bother me anymore. I knew that even if I were number one, they wouldn’t spare me a single glance that wasn’t meant for Annie. I was just her foil, after all. Annie, of course, didn’t see it that way. She thought it was all my own doing. Later that evening, as I was heading to my room, she stopped me. Her expression was calm, tinged with the quiet pride of a winner. “Do you see now?” I looked at her, confused. “See what?” “You can’t rely on other people forever. True security only comes from yourself. You used Peter to help you study and get good grades back then, but what about now? Are you going to rely on him for the rest of your life? If you start studying on your own now, it’s not too late.” Her self-righteous sermon gave me a headache. Annie, did you really think I could have gotten those scores if I hadn’t been studying my ass off on my own? How dare you dismiss my hard work just because he helped me? “And you probably don’t know this,” I said, changing the subject, “but I have a boyfriend now. We’re applying to universities abroad together. His family is covering all my expenses.” Annie froze, her face shifting into a look of profound disappointment. “Anya, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Everything has a price tag attached.” I shrugged. “I don’t care.” 8 After that, Annie and I became complete strangers. Honestly, I never wanted our relationship to get this bad. We weren’t in direct competition, and I could understand her protagonist’s pride. Some of her warnings were even born from a genuine concern for me. But we were two extremes in this story, polar opposites, destined to drift apart over our irreconcilable views. It was a shame, but I knew we could never convince each other. Perhaps being strangers was the best we could do. As college entrance exams approached, I was a bundle of nerves, juggling exam prep and my study abroad applications. Everyone was in the final sprint. And that’s when Annie got caught in a relationship. The boy was Ryan Miller, a broke kid from her class with nothing to his name but a pretty face. The news sent shockwaves through the school administration. Annie was the top student in her year, the school’s only real hope for an Ivy League acceptance. They were terrified the relationship would tank her grades but were equally afraid that handling it badly would affect her performance. So, they came to me, asking me to talk to her as her sister. I refused at first. I knew she wouldn’t listen to me. But Annie’s homeroom teacher told me that Annie often asked about my grades and my class rank. She insisted Annie cared about me, that I was the perfect person for the job. So, one day after school, I waited for her outside her classroom. 9 When she saw me, a flash of surprise crossed her face before being replaced by her usual calm mask. “What are you doing here?” she asked. I didn’t beat around the bush. “I heard you have a boyfriend.” She nodded, unfazed. “So?” “I just wanted to see what kind of guy would make you risk everything right before the biggest exams of your life. Annie, is he handsome? Is his family rich? What are his grades like?” My words wiped the calm from her face, replacing it with a look of derision. “His family isn’t rich, and his grades are average. He’s not the type you’d be interested in. But so what? I’m not you. I don’t want anything from him. I believe I can get everything I want on my own, without needing a man.” Her answer was exactly what I expected. The conversation was a dead end. But as I turned to leave, I couldn’t stop myself from looking back. “Annie, the biggest mistake you can make with a man is to want nothing from him. It’s okay for you to have everything, but it’s not okay for him to have nothing.” Her reply was ice-cold. “Thanks for the advice. I don’t need it.”

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My cover of my sister’s original song went viral overnight. After I got my big break, I gave her everything she ever wanted. Designer clothes, sports cars, a penthouse apartment. But when a famous actor sneered that she’d never be as good as me, she started to hate me. The night I was named “Artist of the Year,” my sister stormed into my dressing room and drove a razor blade across my throat. “If you hadn’t stolen my song, you’d be nothing!” she screamed. “That award was supposed to be mine!” After I bled out, she took her own life in despair. But somehow, we both woke up. Back in our freshman year vocal class. This time, my sister scrambled to her feet before I could. She was going to sing her song. “This time,” she whispered to me later, “I’m the one who’s going to be a star. And you? You’re just the footnote in my story.” 1 After a long, suffocating darkness, a voice cut through the void. “Seraphina? Are you with us? It’s your turn.” My eyes flew open. I was in my freshman year vocal class at the Kingswood Academy of the Arts. Our professor stood on the stage, looking at me expectantly. The girl sitting next to me nudged my arm, her eyes wide with excitement. “Sera, snap out of it! Weren’t you going to sing ‘Echoes of Time’? I heard you practicing in the dorm—it was incredible. I’ve got my phone ready to record and everything.” Her hopeful gaze met mine, and a dizzying mix of shock and joy washed over me. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, a blur of white shot past me. My sister, Selene, rushed onto the stage, snatching the guitar from our professor’s hands, her face flushed with a feverish excitement. “Professor, my sister’s not feeling well,” she announced, her voice ringing with false concern. “I’ll sing for her today. Besides, ‘Echoes of Time’ is my song anyway. I can sing it better than she ever could!” Without waiting for a reply, she began to strum the chords, her voice filling the room with a practiced, emotional melody. A wave of dizziness hit me. It wasn’t a dream. I was reborn. In my past life, in this very class, I was the one who sang Selene’s song, “Echoes of Time.” We both came from a family of musicians, but Selene always insisted she was the one with the real creative genius. We both had music channels online, but neither of us had more than a handful of followers. Selene had posted “Echoes of Time” nearly a year ago, but it had gone nowhere. Impatient and hungry for fame, she quickly abandoned her original work, filling her channel with covers of trending pop songs instead. What she didn’t know—what none of us knew—was that this particular class was being secretly live-streamed. 2 After I sang “Echoes of Time” in that class, my life changed. I went viral. The flood of online attention quickly led to an invitation to compete on a national music show. I was supposed to be the unknown underdog, the cannon fodder. But against all odds, I battled my way through the competition and placed second. That was the beginning. I signed a record deal, released albums, and sold out concerts. I became a household name, and I made a fortune. Selene, however, never caught her break. Even when she tried to ride my coattails, her follower count barely budged. Eventually, she gave up and let me support her, her favorite refrain becoming a constant echo in my life: “Sera, if it wasn’t for my song, you’d be nobody. Anyone could have sung it and become famous. I gave you that chance. At least eighty percent of your success is because of me.” “So what if I ask for a little money? You get all the fame, all the fans. You should be thanking me for everything you have.” “Honestly, your talent was never even half as good as mine. If I had sung that day, I would have been the star. Don’t you dare forget where you came from.” Armed with that narrative, she demanded designer bags, luxury cars, and sprawling mansions. Bound by a sense of sisterly duty, I gave her almost everything she asked for. But then, she set her sights on the one thing I couldn’t give her: Leo Vance, the famously untouchable, award-winning actor. She demanded I set them up. For the first time, I said no. So she went behind my back, using my name to get close to him, hoping for a one-night stand that would launch her into his orbit. It was a disaster. Leo had her wrapped in a bedsheet and thrown out of his hotel room. “You think you’re your sister?” he’d sneered, his voice dripping with contempt as she stood humiliated in the crowded hallway. “A woman like you isn’t worth a single strand of her hair.” Selene never forgave the world for that humiliation. But she blamed it all on me. So on the night I won the “Artist of the Year” award, she stormed into my dressing room. Her eyes were wild, her face a mask of madness as she sliced my throat open with a razor blade. Before the police arrived, she killed herself. As my life faded, her face, contorted with hatred, was the last thing I saw. “If you hadn’t stolen my song, you’d be nothing!” she spat, her voice a venomous hiss. “The award, the fame, even Leo… it should have all been mine!” The memory of her vicious snarl blurred and merged with the serene expression she wore now, her eyes closed as she sang. Perhaps my stare was too intense. Her eyes snapped open, locking with mine. And in their depths, I saw a flicker of defiant challenge. In that instant, I knew. She was reborn, too. 3 Selene and I had studied music together our whole lives, but our styles were worlds apart. She focused on technique, on flashy high notes and vocal acrobatics meant to show off. I poured my soul into the melody, saving the technical flourishes for just the right moment to leave the audience breathless. But now, as she sang “Echoes of Time,” she was a perfect imitation of me. Her voice was soft, delicate, weaving a story with every note, just as I had in my past life. She wasn’t even halfway through the song before the live-stream chat exploded. OMG OMG OMG, this is heavenly! Her voice is unreal! I thought Kingswood Academy was just for pretty faces this year, but this girl is a hidden gem. That storytelling quality in her voice… I haven’t heard anything like this in years. Her voice is so healing. I’m screen-recording this to listen to every night before bed. Send me that recording! I need to make it my ringtone. GOOD NEWS, I found her music channel! And this is her original song?! She’s incredible. Instant follow. The viewers flooded Selene’s channel. Quick-fingered fans had already clipped the performance and spread it across every major social media platform. It was all happening exactly as it had for me. When the song ended, Selene set the guitar down and returned to the seat beside me. Before I could say a word, she leaned in, her voice a low, taunting hiss. “You’re furious, aren’t you, Seraphina? Feeling like I stole your thunder? Well, now you know how I felt. Watching you shine under the spotlights while I was trapped in your shadow… every second was torture. Because all of it—all of it was supposed to be mine!” She leaned back, a smug smile playing on her lips. “Don’t blame me. I’m just setting things right. You never had my talent. I was always the better singer. Why shouldn’t I be the one who’s famous? This time, I’m the one who will conquer the music world. And you? You’re destined to be nothing more than the forgotten sister.” 4 Riding the wave of being the “original songwriter,” Selene’s rise was even faster, even more explosive than mine had been. It wasn’t long before she became the first freshman in our class to receive a contract offer from a major record label. I walked into our dorm room during lunch break, carrying takeout, and was met with Selene’s triumphant voice. “Olympus Records is the biggest music label in the country! With them backing me, becoming a star will be a piece of cake.” Hearing that, I frowned, unable to stop myself from asking, “You’re signing with Olympus?” The cheerful atmosphere in the room instantly froze. Selene shot me a defiant look, her lips curling into a cold smirk. “That’s right. Are you jealous? I guess a second-rate influencer farm like VibeFlow Media can’t really compare to a giant like Olympus, can it?” She said it because, in my past life, VibeFlow was the only label that had offered me a contract initially. They were known for social media influencers, not serious musicians, and their reputation in the industry was nothing compared to the prestige of Olympus Records. I met her venomous gaze, pressed my lips together, and said nothing. But Selene took my silence as confirmation, her smugness growing. “It figures. Someone like you, who only got lucky by stealing someone else’s work, could only ever sign with a place like VibeFlow. Olympus doesn’t just let any stray in. I told you, Seraphina. I’m the one with the real talent. I’m the one who was made for this.” Our other two roommates looked confused. “Selene, what are you talking about?” Selene scoffed. “Oh, you didn’t know? My dear sister here was planning to get famous by covering my song. She even has delusions of becoming Artist of the Year. Pathetic, isn’t it?” 5 At her words, both of our roommates shot me looks of pure disdain. “You’re famous because you’re amazing, Selene. If she’s so talented, why doesn’t she write her own songs?” “Seriously, some people will do anything for attention.” “The way she said that, acting so concerned about you signing with Olympus… I thought she had some better offer in mind. Turns out it’s just a trashy company like VibeFlow.” “Don’t listen to her, Selene! Sign with Olympus! With all their Grammy-winning artists, you’re guaranteed to be a star! That’ll show Seraphina!” In this industry, fame is a magnet for friends. Our little dorm room was already proving to be a microcosm of the entire entertainment world. Basking in their flattery, Selene smiled victoriously. “Alright, I’ll sign with Olympus. And since you’ve all been so supportive, there’s a music competition next month. I’ll see if I can pull some strings and get you two spots in the first round.” The competition she was talking about was The Ascent. It was a brutal series of auditions, eliminations, and live shows. In my past life, placing second on that show cemented my career and took me to the next level. The show was open to anyone—amateurs, online singers, anyone with a dream. But if you had a label and connections, you could skip the grueling open auditions and go straight to the televised first round, where the real exposure began. My roommates’ eyes lit up. “Really? Oh my god, Selene, you’re so talented and generous!” “You’re going to be a huge star! Someone like Seraphina, sick with jealousy, will never be on your level!” Selene shot me one last triumphant, mocking smile before heading off to finalize her contract with Olympus Records. I finished my lunch in silence and climbed into my bunk. Lying there, memories from my past life flooded back. It was true that at first, VibeFlow was the only company that would take a chance on me. But after I made a name for myself on The Ascent, Olympus had come knocking too, offering me a lucrative deal. I turned them down. By then, I had heard things about them, about their predatory contracts and how they chewed up and spat out young artists. Seeing Selene’s smug satisfaction, all I could do was wish her good luck. She was going to need it. 6 News of Selene’s contract with Olympus Records spread like wildfire among the freshmen. The same people who envied her also heard the story of my “jealousy” and began to ostracize me, treating me with open contempt. I didn’t care. After years of fighting my way through the cutthroat music industry, I was used to slander and backstabbing. My heart had only ever belonged to one thing: the music. Soon, the open auditions for The Ascent were announced. Kingswood Academy was one of the first to get the news, and our class president stood at the front of the room with a stack of registration forms. “Who else wants to sign up?” Nearly every student at Kingswood was aiming for a career in music, so the entire class registered. I remembered from my past life that several of them had even made it to the top 100. I took a form. As soon as I finished filling it out, I felt Selene’s dark gaze on me. “Seraphina,” she hissed, “don’t tell me you’re still delusional enough to think you can repeat your past life.” I didn’t answer. She sneered. “With what? You have nothing.” I lifted my chin. The confidence forged by years of walking red carpets and commanding stadium-sized audiences created an invisible pressure that made her flinch. “With myself,” I said, my voice ringing with certainty. Someone snapped a photo of that moment. A second later, a shoulder slammed hard into mine. “Who do you think you are, Seraphina? You’re nothing compared to Selene! You’ll just embarrass yourself on that show!” “I heard you only got into Kingswood because of Selene’s help. It’s a disgrace to have someone like you in our class.” “You have no talent! Go home! Without your sister, you’re nothing!” Their words were just echoes of what Selene herself had told me countless times in our past life. “Sera, you only got famous because of my song. Your success is my success.” “You could never have made it on your own. Everything you have, I gave to you. Understand?” Her words had been a poison, brainwashing me until I almost believed them myself. I clutched the registration form in my hand, my knuckles white. This wasn’t just about chasing the award I had almost won. This was about proving to myself, once and for all, that I was enough. No matter what, I would see this through to the end. 7 The open auditions passed in a blur, and just as I’d expected, I made it through to the first televised round. Frankly, it would have been pathetic if I hadn’t. After years of competing against industry titans and seasoned professionals, I could handle a simple audition in my sleep. Two hundred contestants advanced from the auditions. The show’s producers quickly posted the official list of competitors on their social media channels. The roster was filled with popular music bloggers, viral internet singers, and even a few indie artists with albums and tours under their belts. The hype for the show was already building. Selene’s name was all over the comments section. Her acoustic performance video had amassed over five million likes; there was hardly anyone online who hadn’t seen it. Selene! I remember her! The super talented original singer. She’s got a bright future. FINALLY, some fresh blood instead of the same old faces. I’m putting my money on Selene. I bet she makes the top three. Her vocals and songwriting are honestly better than some established artists out there. WHOA, you guys need to see Selene’s latest post. I feel so bad for her. When the show starts, I’m voting for her and boycotting her psycho sister. Who’s her sister? That Seraphina girl! Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from one of The Ascent’s producers, along with a link. His message was blunt. [Is this true?] The link was to a trending news article. The headline was plastered in bold letters: #ViralSinger’sSister Vows to Ride Her Coattails to the Top? 8 The story was based on a social media post from Selene. In it, she tearfully accused me of being consumed by jealousy. She claimed I was trying to steal her spotlight, copying her every move, and that my only reason for joining the competition was to leech off her newfound fame. At first, the public was skeptical. But then, our classmates and roommates began to chime in, one by one, corroborating her story. I can vouch for this. Seraphina totally tried to sing Selene’s original song in vocal class to get attention. I’m their roommate. Seraphina is constantly undermining Selene. She was so bitter and passive-aggressive when Selene signed with Olympus Records. They had a huge fight in the classroom! I saw it! Seraphina was screaming at Selene in front of everyone. It was disgusting. How can someone be so shameless? And then they posted the picture they’d taken—the one of me and Selene in the classroom. The angle was perfect for their narrative. I looked cold and intimidating, my gaze sharp and commanding. Selene looked small, fragile, and innocent. To any outsider, it was clear who the bully was. By the time I saw it, the story had already spiraled out of control. Worse, someone had dug up my audition video, and the comments were flooded with hate. I didn’t believe it at first, but after hearing Seraphina sing, it’s obvious. She’s a total copycat of her sister. Well, they grew up together. She’s a damn good mimic, I’ll give her that. Honestly, if she had sung the song first, she might have gone viral too. Please. A knockoff is a knockoff. Even if she sang it, she’d just be a thief. She doesn’t deserve an ounce of fame. #TeamSelene #CancelSeraphina With the scandal blowing up online, the show’s producers were getting nervous. The show hadn’t even premiered yet, and it was already drowning in negative press. The producer messaged me again: [Maybe you should withdraw. If you appear on the show now, you’re just going to get torn apart by the public. You’ll never build a career this way. You’ll just become a target for their hate.] Looking at the endless scroll of vicious comments, I knew anyone else would have quit. But I had clawed my way through the darkest corners of this industry before. This little storm was nothing. I replied instantly: [I’m not quitting. And don’t worry. I have a way to prove my innocence.] This was my second chance. I wasn’t about to give it up. 9 The day of the first round arrived. Backstage was a chaotic symphony of nerves. The 200 contestants were a whirlwind of activity—some perfecting their makeup, others warming up their voices, every face etched with anxiety. Every face, that is, except for Selene’s. She wore a smile that radiated absolute certainty. A crowd of sycophants had already gathered around her. “Selene, you look so gorgeous and confident today! Can you give us a hint? What are you singing?” “It has to be another one of your originals, right?” Selene tilted her chin up, her gaze sweeping over them with a touch of arrogance. “Of course. And trust me, the song I’m performing tonight will blow everyone away.” Her admirers gasped in unison. “If you’re saying that, it must be incredible! Is it even better than ‘Echoes of Time’?” “I can’t wait to hear it! It’s killing me that we have to wait. If it weren’t for the NDAs, I’d be begging you to sing a few lines right now.” “You’re a shoo-in to advance. You’ll probably make the top ten, easy.” Then, their collective gaze shifted, landing on me as I sat in the makeup chair. Their voices dripped with malicious glee. “Look at her, still bothering with makeup. I guess if you know you’re going to lose, you might as well look good for your farewell performance.” “I can’t believe she still has the nerve to be here. I wonder what she’s planning to sing. A copycat like her is destined to live forever in Selene’s shadow.” Their voices were loud enough for me to hear every word. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my expression blank. I refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Thankfully, the competition started soon after, and we were all herded to the waiting area. A stagehand went down the line, confirming our song choices one last time. Selene was a few spots ahead of me, close enough for me to overhear the staff member confirm her song title: “Dream Fulfilled.” The name was unfamiliar. I wracked my brain, but I couldn’t place it. It wasn’t a hit song, that was for sure. Maybe some obscure track. I dismissed it and confirmed my own song with the stagehand: “Azure Wings.” Just then, the host’s voice boomed from the stage, calling Selene’s name. She stood up, and as she passed me, she shot me a sharp, provocative glance. I frowned, a flicker of unease stirring within me. A moment later, the opening notes of her song filled the backstage area. A gentle, soaring melody… accompanied by a clear, ethereal vocal harmony. It was the intro to my song. My “Azure Wings.”

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The day Richard Lu lost everything, I got engaged to his greatest rival. He had begged me, his voice choked with tears, asking what happened to the love I’d sworn to him. I laughed, my voice dripping with cruelty. “It was just a game, Richard. Don’t tell me you actually fell for it. Can’t handle losing?” On that rainy night, I ground his pride into the mud beneath my heel. Four years later, he returned, more powerful than ever, and dedicated himself to destroying me. But when he finally learned the truth, he broke down, his eyes red with weeping, and begged for my forgiveness once more. 1 Our reunion was anything but glamorous. A torrential downpour had just started, and his car hit me. I was a mess. My pale yellow dress was splattered with mud, and my knee and palm were stinging sharply. Someone helped me into the back of the car. I was about to give the driver a piece of my mind when I saw him, sitting silently in the corner. Richard Lu. He wore an immaculately tailored suit, not a single crease out of place. His brow furrowed the moment he saw me. It was a look of pure, undiluted disgust, the kind of impatience that said even looking at me was an insult, a stain on his vision. He used to reserve that look for his fawning admirers. Now, it was my turn. I caught my reflection in the window. My hair was plastered to my head, my cheek scraped raw. In the five years we were together, even when he was at his lowest, working himself to the bone on construction sites, I’d never looked this pathetic. Richard’s gaze swept over me for a fraction of a second, his lips tightening before he closed his eyes, dismissing me completely. I had no desire to speak to him either. I slowly, deliberately, massaged my injured knee. God, it throbbed. By the time we reached the hospital, the pain was worse, and small blossoms of blood had started to stain my dress. I got out of the car without a word, limping heavily. “And your fiancé?” Richard’s voice, cold and detached, stopped me. “Aren’t you going to tell him you’re hurt?” My hand froze on the car door. I let a small, tight smile touch my lips. “He’s busy. I wouldn’t dream of distracting him.” For a moment, he hesitated, then his mask of indifference fell back into place. I couldn’t help but remember the old Richard. The one who was on call for me 24/7, 365 days a year. A machine gets to recharge, but I often kept him up all night with my whims. The worst time, he stood in the freezing autumn rain for an entire night because he hadn’t managed to buy the roast duck from that one place across town, and I’d threatened to break up with him over it. Everyone said I was impossible, that he should leave me. But he never let go. In our relationship, he was always the one who needed me more. That’s why the day I finally left him, the pain had been so visceral, so absolute. I had shattered his pride, torn it to shreds, and still, he couldn’t believe I didn’t want him anymore. He could have fallen for anyone. But for his first love, he chose a liar like me. 2 When I came out of the hospital, Richard’s car was gone. His assistant was waiting by the entrance to drive me home. My fiancé, Kevin Sterling, saw my bandages and leaned in, his eyes wide with morbid curiosity. “Well, well. You’re hurt. That’s a new one!” His voice grew louder, laced with amusement. “Richard Lu is back, isn’t he? It was him!” Kevin roared with laughter. “Aurora, you are so screwed! Your ex is back for revenge. The way you treated him back then… it was cruel enough to make a devil shake its head.” “Do you want Sterling Construction to go bankrupt?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. The next morning, I woke up to Kevin’s frantic shouting. “Aurora, you’ve ruined me! That lunatic Richard Lu is launching a hostile takeover of Sterling Construction!” He was serious. He’d already acquired a majority of the shares. “I’ll tell him the truth! I’ll tell him why you really left him!” Kevin threatened when he saw my lack of reaction. With a sigh, I dialed a number I knew by heart. I hadn’t consciously thought of it in four years, but my fingers moved with an eerie familiarity. I never expected it to connect. It was five in the morning; he should have been on his morning run. “Hello.” His voice, cool and distant, came through the line. My fingers froze. A second later, I hung up. “Damn it! Aurora, are you insane?!” Kevin yelled in my ear. “It went through! Why did you hang up?!” A moment later, the number called back. 3 Kevin snatched the phone from my hand and answered. “Aurora, I know it’s you.” Richard’s detached voice echoed in the bedroom. My mind went blank. I’d changed my number years ago. “Richard, Aurora wants to see you,” Kevin blurted out. The breathing on the other end of the line hitched. “Is Kevin Sterling with you?” He was jumping to conclusions, but I had no intention of correcting him. “Of course. Is it so strange for me to be with my own fiancé?” Please, Richard, I thought. Misunderstand me. Hate my guts. It’s better for both of us. “Good,” Richard’s voice was a low snarl. “That’s just perfect.” He hung up. I stared at the phone, stunned. Five minutes later, a text message arrived. [If you want to save Sterling Construction, be at the old place. 2 p.m.] When I arrived at the private club, Richard was staring into a glass of whiskey. Sitting beside him was Mia, my old nemesis. She was leaning in, lighting a cigarette for him with a fawning smile. Richard, who was famously obsessed with cleanliness, took it without hesitation. My brow twitched. The old Richard used to speak of Mia with utter disgust. He would actively avoid any place she might be. His reason? A good boyfriend doesn’t entertain other women. He doesn’t give his admirers false hope. He doesn’t give his girlfriend a reason to be jealous or worried. And what had I done back then? I’d smashed a piece of cake in his face. “Richard, get a grip. You think I’d be jealous?” He hadn’t cared about the cream dripping down his cheek. He had just quietly called his assistant and asked him to bring another slice of strawberry cake. 4 I chose a seat as far away from Richard as possible, but the acrid smell of smoke still drifted over, catching in my throat. I couldn’t stop myself from coughing. “Richard,” Mia whined, shooting me a dirty look. “Someone’s here to ruin the mood.” “Then I’ll leave,” I said, grabbing my bag and turning to go without a second glance. CRASH. Richard hurled his glass against the wall. He stalked toward me, each step heavy and deliberate. The closer he got, the more I coughed. He stared down at me for a few long seconds before grinding the cigarette out in an ashtray. “Did I say you could leave?” “Get away from me,” I snapped, covering my nose, my face a mask of revulsion. “You reek of smoke. It’s disgusting.” A cold smirk played on his lips, but he did take a step back. “Richard, have you forgotten how she treated you?” Mia scurried over, clinging to his arm. Richard’s frown was almost imperceptible, but he allowed it. “Don’t let her fool you again,” Mia pleaded. “Then what do you think I should do?” Richard asked, his voice low as he looked down at her. “Punish her, of course,” Mia said, her face lighting up with malicious glee. “I hear the bungee jumping at Crestview Mountain is incredible!” At the mention of bungee jumping, the color drained from my face. A flicker of surprise crossed Richard’s eyes, but he nodded, accepting Mia’s suggestion. “You jump, and I’ll spare the Sterling family.” 5 “Fine,” I said, forcing a smile as I suppressed the terror rising in my throat. Richard’s expression grew even darker as he emotionlessly motioned for the staff to bring the equipment. I clutched my bag. If he had threatened me like this four years ago, I would have slapped him twice, and he would have asked if my hand hurt. Now, the tables had turned. “You regret it now, don’t you, Aurora?” Mia taunted as a staff member strapped the harness around my waist. “Too bad. Richard sees you for what you really are.” “Thank you for being so blind,” I shot back. “Are you done? You seem to love picking up my leftovers.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “I never loved Richard. Not for a second. He’s all yours.” “Richard!” Mia cried out, overjoyed. “Did you hear that? She’s a heartless monster.” “I’ve known that for a long time,” Richard replied, his voice as cold as a winter night. The harness was painfully tight, digging into my waist as if trying to snap my spine in two. But that was nothing compared to the sheer terror of standing on the edge of the cliff. 6 The wind howled in my ears, and the sun beat down mercilessly. I wiped a bead of sweat from my temple and gave a slight nod. The next second, I was pushed. The wind ripped past my lips, my ears, my eyes, a physical force tearing at my chest. Compared to the minor scrapes from yesterday, this was a new level of hell. My ears were ringing, and my head felt like it was being split open with a hammer. After what felt like an eternity, they pulled me back up. My legs were so weak I nearly collapsed. “Tsk. And here I thought you were so tough, Aurora.” Mia leaned in, her voice dripping with scorn. “Look at you, pale as a ghost. Scared, are we? I suggest you stop embarrassing yourself and get lost!” My vision was a blur of gray. I couldn’t make out her words. “Does your promise still stand?” That was all I cared about. “Richard, she only cares about her fiancé!” Mia muttered to someone behind me. I turned my head slightly, my eyes unable to focus. “Richard. Your promise. Does it stand?” There was a long silence before he finally spoke. “Yes.” Relief washed over me. At the same time, a warm trickle ran from my nose. I heard Mia’s gasp. “Aurora, you’re bleeding!” I tried to answer, but my head spun, and the world went dark. Just before I passed out, I caught the clean, sharp scent of pine. “Aurora!” The hands that caught me were trembling. The voice that called for an ambulance was shaking uncontrollably.

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