I was back at the Cavill Enterprises tech showcase. I knew Tristan would storm the stage crying plagiarism, but this time, I did nothing. Last time, his accusation wiped out ten percent of Cavill’s market value instantly. I was the one who stepped up, turned the scandal into a triumph, and boosted the company’s reputation. My reward? My fiancée Isabel framed me with fake evidence and had me imprisoned. The project I’d bled for was handed to Tristan on a silver platter. I screamed, demanding to know why. She looked at me with sickeningly sweet guilt. “Tristan came from nothing,” she said. “He needs this chance. I’ll marry you when you get out.” I appealed from my cell until I was beaten to death by inmates. This time, with no hero to save them, I watched as panic swept Isabel’s face. “Leo, do something!” she cried. 1 “Leo, did you hear me?” I was still frozen, the ghost of suffocation still clawing at my throat. Isabel’s hand clamped down on my arm, her nails digging into my flesh, and the sharp pain finally yanked me back to the present. The familiar scene of the launch event swam into focus, with Isabel’s frantic expression filling my vision. “Leo, the data was leaked! We’re being accused of plagiarism. You have a solution, right?” she pleaded, her voice a desperate hiss. “You managed this project from the ground up! You have to fix this!” I ignored the chaos erupting around us and forcefully shook her hand off my arm. “I managed the timeline,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “I don’t know the first thing about the science. What could I possibly do?” I let my gaze sweep across the panicked faces in the room. “Besides, only a handful of people had access to the final data. Who, exactly, was in a position to leak it and create this mess?” Isabel’s eyes darted away for a fraction of a second before she locked them back on me, her lower lip trembling. “Who leaked it doesn’t matter right now! What matters is surviving this nightmare. The marketing department has been pushing this for three years! We have contracts signed, partnerships on the line! It’s all turning to dust!” She mumbled on, her body trembling uncontrollably. The polished smile she wore for the cameras was now a grotesque, frozen grimace, drawing worried stares from everyone nearby. I watched her unravel, not with concern, but with a cruel, satisfying thrill. On stage, Tristan was in his element, radiating passion and conviction as he laid out his “stolen” research. He looked every bit the rising star of the tech world, a stark contrast to the woman who was slowly losing her mind in the front row. Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. In my last life, when Tristan had pulled this same stunt, I was the one who charged the stage. I debated him for nearly an hour, point for point, until I finally produced the original experimental drafts, proving him a fraud. We didn’t just avoid disaster; we ended up closing three more major deals that night because of the “drama.” But later, as the crowds cleared, Isabel had looked at me with pure disgust. “Tristan was giving the performance of his life, and you had to jump up there and turn it into a street brawl. Red in the face, shouting… you had no class at all, Leo.” A client had pulled me away before I could process her words, and I’d missed the simmering, intimate look she exchanged with Tristan. By the time my night was over, I found myself being sued by my own company for leaking proprietary data. Isabel stood against me in court. She produced documents I’d never seen—forged agreements, falsified bank transfers—that sealed my fate. When my appeals failed, she visited me in private. “Leo,” she’d whispered, her eyes wet with tears, “Tristan came from nothing. He needs this. Technically, I was the one who leaked the data. You’d go to prison for me, wouldn’t you?” Her tone was casual, as if asking me to pick up groceries, but her eyes were filled with a terrifyingly convincing devotion. “Don’t worry. The moment you get out, we’ll get married.” “You can forget it,” I’d spat back. “I’m not pleading guilty to anything.” Her expression had hardened instantly. She looked at me like I was an unruly child. Before I knew it, her security team had me bound and dragged away, claiming I was a flight risk attempting to flee the country. Just like that, I was in prison. And to add insult to injury, she transferred ownership of every project I had ever worked on to Tristan’s name. My entire career, my life’s work, became a footnote in his story. A joke. I refused to let it end like that. But my fight for justice ended with a shiv in a dark corner of the prison yard. It was only as I bled out that I learned the worst of it: my parents, trying to clear my name, had died in a “car accident.” Rage was the last thing I felt. White-hot, all-consuming rage. I had saved her company, and for a man she had known for less than three months, she had destroyed me and my entire family. So now, without me to ride to the rescue, I wondered: did she still find Tristan so dazzling? “Wait!” A shaky voice cut through the noise. “Tristan’s accusation of plagiarism is baseless!” I snapped back to the present. Isabel, her face pale as a sheet, was now on stage, dragging the lead researchers with her. For a moment, panic flashed in Tristan’s eyes, but he quickly replaced it with righteous fury. “Ms. Cavill! Are you going to lie to the very end? Every byte of that data, every single equation, came from my own two hands!” he boomed. “I have the original drafts right here! Your family’s money can’t buy my genius or my integrity!” He theatrically slammed a stack of yellowed papers onto the lectern, covered in a frantic scrawl of equations that captivated the audience. Isabel, speechless with fury, shoved one of her lead scientists forward. “Prove it! Prove to them this project was ours from the start!” But it was a fool’s errand. For efficiency, the project had been siloed. Each team worked on a separate module, completely ignorant of the others’ work. They were no match for Tristan, who, armed with my complete dataset, could speak with flawless authority on every single detail. Within ten minutes, her experts were stammering, defeated. The contrast was damning. A wave of murmurs and snickers rippled through the press corps. “Cavill Enterprises is a joke. A three-year hype train for a stolen project. How embarrassing.” “They couldn’t even hire a decent actor to defend them. Look at him, he can’t answer a single question. I’m cringing.” “I heard they leveraged this project to secure massive new contracts. That’s all going up in smoke now.” Camera flashes strobed across Tristan’s face, fueling his performance. He was the crusader, the righteous victim. Isabel just stood there, trapped in the spotlight, her face shifting between shades of crimson and ghostly white. Her research team had already slunk off the stage, abandoning her completely. Watching the beautiful disaster unfold, I felt a profound sense of release. Isabel and I had been inseparable since childhood, our engagement a forgone conclusion. I once believed that even if love wasn’t there, two decades of history had to count for something. But she had stabbed me in the back without a moment’s hesitation. Her eyes found mine across the room, pleading. I could see the stubborn pride in her posture, the way her body trembled on the verge of collapse. The old Leo would have rushed to her side. The new me simply gave her a slow, deliberate shake of my head, then stood up and walked out of the conference hall. On the way home, the news was already breaking, painting Cavill Enterprises as the laughingstock of the tech industry. I watched their stock ticker plummet in real-time on my phone’s screen, and without a second thought, I made a call. “Hello, I need to speak with my asset manager. I want to freeze everything under my name. Yes, all of it. As soon as possible.” Just as I hung up, my phone rang again. It was Isabel. I let out a sigh and answered. “Leo, honey, where are you?” Her voice was thick with unshed tears. “I need you. You’re the only one who can save me now!” “I’m on my way home,” I said, my tone flat, offering zero comfort. Her sobbing stopped for a beat, replaced by a surge of relief. “Okay! I’ll meet you there! Wait for me! Don’t you dare go anywhere!” By the time I’d finished my arrangements and arrived home, Isabel was already waiting on the couch. Sensing this was my chance, I pretended to answer a text, but secretly started a video recording on my phone. The moment she saw me, her impatient frown vanished, replaced by a dazzling smile. She jumped up, pulled me to the couch, and shoved a document into my hands. “Honey, sign this,” she said, her voice breathy. “You won’t let me go down for this, will you?” The words on top screamed at me in bold letters: CONFESSION AGREEMENT. I stared at the document in silence. I waited, letting the silence stretch until the smile on Isabel’s face began to crack. Then, I picked up the pen and signed my name. Relief washed over her face, though she quickly replaced it with a mask of worried devotion. “Don’t worry, Leo. This time, you’re taking the fall for me, but I’ll take care of everything. I’ll get you the best lawyers. And the moment you get out, we’ll get married!” She paused, adding, “And your parents, I’ll look after them…” “Don’t,” I cut in sharply at the mention of my parents. She carefully folded the agreement, her expression still a perfect picture of concern. “I promise, this will stay between us. It won’t be submitted until the hearing in three days.” Then, her tone shifted. “Leo… Cavill is in a really deep hole right now. I might need to… liquidate some of your assets to cover the losses.” “Do whatever you want.” It was all frozen anyway. She could try, but she wouldn’t get a dime. Overjoyed, she lunged forward to hug me, but I sidestepped her embrace. I was done with the charade. “I’m exhausted,” I said, faking a yawn. “I’m going to bed.” I turned to leave, but a man’s voice called down from the top of the stairs. “Bella, darling, I’ve got all my stuff set up!” I looked up. It was Tristan. He was standing there in one of my silk robes, a smug grin plastered on his face as he looked at Isabel. Isabel flinched, then quickly composed herself. “Tristan is getting swarmed by the press, Leo. It’s not safe for him out there. I told him he could stay here for a while,” she explained, her voice a little too high. “Besides, we need his cooperation to navigate the company through this. You understand, right?” Tristan sauntered down the stairs and wrapped an arm around Isabel’s waist, pulling her close. His eyes, fixed on me, were gleaming with open provocation. “Bella, I really don’t like the decor in this house. I’ve already drawn up some new designs. We can start renovating tomorrow.” This house… we bought it with the first real paycheck we ever earned. We had furnished it piece by piece, every item holding a memory. It was supposed to be our sanctuary. Isabel hesitated, glancing at me before shrugging. “You’re right, it’s outdated anyway. Whatever you want, Tristan.” The heavy scent of Tristan’s cologne was making me nauseous. I didn’t want to watch them anymore. I turned and headed upstairs. But when I pushed open the bedroom door, I froze. Everything was gone. All of my belongings had vanished. In their place were piles of luxury brand shopping bags and gadgets—all clearly belonging to a younger man. The large, framed engagement photo that hung above our bed was gone, replaced by a cheap, blown-up selfie of Isabel and Tristan. And tossed on the bed were several pieces of lingerie I had definitely never seen before. The air was thick with a cloying, unfamiliar scent. I lifted my phone and silently recorded everything. Just as I pocketed it, I heard footsteps approaching. “Leo, honey, your things are in the guest room,” Isabel said from the hallway. “You don’t need to sleep in the master…” She trailed off as she saw the state of the room, her eyes widening in feigned surprise, as if she had no idea what Tristan had done. Her gaze flickered to where our engagement photo used to be, a flash of awkwardness crossing her face before she coated it with that same, suffocating affection. “Leo, this was all Tristan’s idea. I just… given that he’s now the public face of the project, I thought it was best to…” Her voice dwindled under my dead, silent stare. I let out a short, humorless laugh and gestured to the lingerie on the bed. “Was this his idea, too?” Isabel’s face went white. “Leo, I swear, I didn’t know about this!” she insisted. “I’ve been running around all day trying to save the company! I just gave him a key! I had no idea he’d do all this! If you don’t want him here, I’ll tell him to leave right now!” “Don’t bother,” I said coldly, my eyes fixed on the fresh, angry-red hickey on the side of her neck. I went to the guest room. My belongings were dumped in a heap on the floor. Important company files were scattered about, some trampled with muddy footprints. Isabel followed me, with Tristan trailing lazily behind her. He saw the mess and a flicker of triumph crossed his face before he draped himself over Isabel, the picture of remorse. “Oh, Bella, I’m so sorry. I’m just terrible at organizing. I didn’t mean to make such a mess of Leo’s things,” he cooed. “But you know, coming from a small town, I’ve never even seen stuff this fancy before. I honestly didn’t know what to do with it.” His words melted her instantly. She hugged him back, stroking his hair. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll buy you new things. Leo’s a good guy. He won’t mind, will you, Leo?” The last part was less a question and more a threat. I looked at the scattered files—all sensitive Cavill Enterprises business—and almost laughed. I walked to the door, and under Isabel’s wary gaze, I shut it in their faces. I pulled out my phone and checked the video. Perfect. It had captured everything. I couldn’t show my hand just yet. Untangling my family’s assets from Cavill Enterprises would take time. And I had to warn my parents, to make sure the tragedy of my past life would never be repeated. Around two in the morning, a video call came through. It was Isabel. I enabled screen recording before answering. The first thing I heard was her breathy, exaggerated moans. It was obvious what they were doing. Then came Tristan’s smug voice. “Does it turn you on, Bella? Knowing your fiancé is right next door?” “He loves me so much,” Isabel purred back. “He wouldn’t say a thing even if he knew.” “You’re a genius, getting him to take the fall for you like that. But… after he gets out of prison, are you really going to marry him? What about me?” “Hush, baby,” she crooned. “I was just saying that to keep him quiet. The moment he’s behind bars, I’ll be the one calling the shots out here…” “Hehe, I knew you’d take care of me, Bella.” I had what I needed. I ended the call. I immediately packaged the evidence and sent it to my parents with a detailed explanation, telling them to prepare for the storm. Once I knew they were on board, I pulled a worn business card from my wallet and dialed the number. “Ava? It’s Leo. I need your help. Can we meet?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385105”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 On our third anniversary, Caleb sent me $5.20. He sent his first love $520,000. When I refused the pittance, he accused me of being a gold digger. “I sent Chloe money because she’s struggling, not because I care about her,” he sneered. “Isn’t my mother’s support enough? This was your final test. You failed, Mia.” So I left. He proposed to Chloe the next day. Five years later, we crossed paths at the Grand Harbor Hotel. His company was nearing its IPO, and Chloe—elegant in couture—clung to his arm. He saw me, covered in mud, digging through a trash can, and frowned in disgust. “Mia Lin. You once looked down on five dollars. Now you’d be lucky to find that much in ten bins,” he said contemptuously. “Don’t think playing pitiful will make me take you back.” I ignored him. My son’s favorite seashell—a treasure his father had thrown away—was somewhere in that trash, and I had to find it. … In the hotel lobby, Caleb Grey made his entrance with Chloe Shen on his arm. His immaculately tailored suit accentuated his tall frame, and he moved with the easy confidence of a man who owned every room he entered. He was instantly recognized. “Mr. Grey! What a surprise to see you at the Financial Summit! To take a company public just five years after taking over… truly remarkable!” “I imagine you’re also here to meet with the investor, then?” Caleb gave a slight, knowing nod. Most of the people here were after the same legendary, elusive investor. Someone’s gaze shifted to Chloe, their voice slick with flattery. “And this must be the lovely Mrs. Grey! A perfect match!” Chloe pressed closer to Caleb, her smile demure. “We’re not married just yet. We’re planning the wedding for after the IPO. We hope you’ll all be able to join us then.” Caleb’s expression tightened for a split second before he forced a smile. “We’ve both been so focused on our careers. We’re already committed to each other; a piece of paper can wait.” The crowd murmured their congratulations. I was surprised. They weren’t married yet? Five years ago, the day after our breakup, he had proposed to her. Their engagement was a high-profile spectacle. He loved her so much; I’d assumed he would have married her immediately. How could work have delayed it this long? Especially when I knew how desperate his mother was for a grandchild. Just then, a hotel attendant marched toward me, his face a mask of disapproval. “Ma’am, this is a five-star resort hotel. It’s not a place for just anyone to wander into.” His eyes raked over me, his disgust unconcealed. “And digging through the trash is strictly prohibited. Please leave at once.” I had just come back from the beach with my son. I was covered in mud, my hair a tangled mess. I certainly didn’t look like a guest. “I’m so sorry,” I explained quickly. “Something of mine was thrown away by accident. I’ll be back in my room as soon as I find it. I’ll clean up any mess…” “With the way you’re dressed, there’s no way you’re a guest here,” he interrupted impatiently. “Leave now, or I’m calling security.” His voice was loud, drawing looks from the surrounding crowd. That’s when Caleb glanced over his shoulder. Our eyes met. He froze. “Mia?” The attendant looked at him, surprised. “Mr. Grey, you know her?” Caleb’s composure returned in an instant. His tone was glacial. “She was a charity case my mother used to sponsor. We’re not acquainted.” He looked away, as if another glance was a waste of his time. It was the same cold indifference he’d shown me the day we broke up. Taking his cue, the attendant shoved me. “Get out of here! I’ve seen your type before. Just because someone helped you once doesn’t mean you can leech off them forever.” I dodged his hand. “I told you, I’ll leave when I find what I’m looking for. I’ll pay for any damages.” He sneered. “Pay? You?” He pointed to the ornate bin. “Do you have any idea what this is? It’s a custom piece from an Italian designer. It costs ten thousand dollars. Can you afford that?” he scoffed. “Don’t make empty boasts. You can’t even imagine the value of a single object in a place like this.” He reached for me again. “That’s enough.” Caleb, who had already reached the elevators, turned and walked back. His face was a blank mask. “What are you looking for? Tell me how much it’s worth, and I’ll give you the cash.” His eyes were cold. “Stop trying to get my attention like this. It’s pathetic. I have zero interest in you.” Chloe tightened her grip on his arm, her smile gentle but condescending. “Mia, we’re getting married. I know you were bitter about the breakup, but you can’t force these things. I hope you can find some dignity.” I offered them a small, genuine smile. “I wish you both a long and happy life together.” Then I ignored them, crouching down to continue my search. “What will it take for you to leave?” Caleb’s voice was sharp with irritation. “Or are you still hung up on that half a million I gave to Chloe?” He impatiently pulled out his phone. “Fine. I’ll transfer it to you now. Take the money and disappear. Never show your face to me again.” He didn’t look up from his screen. “Chloe was always the one I loved. Those years with you were just me running away from my feelings for her. This money is enough for you to start over. Find a man who’s actually in your league and stop wasting your time on me.” Suddenly, his thumbs stopped moving. “Your card was declined. Are you a defaulter now?” I understood immediately. He was trying to send money to the old bank account my scholarship was paid into. I hadn’t used it in years. Since I got married, I’d only ever used the black card my husband gave me. Of course the old one was frozen. It seemed his opinion of me hadn’t improved. I’d graduated from gold digger to broke, and now, to a deadbeat. “I don’t need money,” I said, too tired to explain. His voice turned colder. “You’re reduced to digging through garbage, and you still won’t accept help?” I frowned, confused. “We broke up five years ago. We’re strangers. Why would I need your help?” I added, “And please, don’t send any money. I don’t want it.” If a certain someone found out another man was sending me money, he’d interrogate me for weeks. And if he ever dug up my history with Caleb, the resulting jealousy would last for a month. Caleb was taken aback, then let out a short, mocking laugh. “Mia, you’ve misunderstood. The only reason I’m offering you money is out of pity. Don’t worry, I have absolutely no other intentions toward you.” He stared at my disheveled appearance for a long moment, his expression growing complicated. “Seeing you like this… maybe the breakup hit you harder than I thought. I suppose I do bear some responsibility for that. Is that why you won’t take the money? You want me to feel guilty forever?” Chloe jumped in, stroking his arm soothingly. “Caleb, darling, she was a top student at medical school. She’s perfectly capable of getting a job and supporting herself. The only reason she’s like this is because she’s lazy and has no ambition.” Her voice was sweet poison. “You could see it back then. Her family was poor, but instead of getting a part-time job for tuition, she just accepted your mother’s charity. It just goes to show what kind of person she is.” “Chloe!” I snapped, my voice sharp. “I paid back every cent of that scholarship, with interest. Watch what you say.” Chloe flinched, then tugged on Caleb’s sleeve. “Forget it, Caleb. She’s too proud. Your kindness is just an insult to her. Let’s just go.” “My affairs are none of your concern,” I said coldly, turning back to the trash. Suddenly, I saw it: a small bag filled with colorful seashells. A wave of relief washed over me. I had just grabbed it when Caleb’s hand shot out and clamped around my wrist, yanking me violently to my feet. “Mia Lin! You turned your nose up at five dollars back then, and now you’re digging through trash for shells? Tell me, are they worth more?” His voice was a low growl. “Even as a beggar, don’t think for a second that playing pathetic will make me take you back.” I was speechless. After all these years, he still thought I broke up with him over five dollars? That year, Chloe had left for overseas without a word, a sudden breakup that had nearly destroyed him. Caleb’s mother asked me to look after him, and out of gratitude for her sponsorship, I stayed by his side while he healed. Eventually, we fell into a relationship. But the moment Chloe came back to the country, he grew distant. He stopped answering my calls, ignoring my messages. On our third anniversary, he sent me $5.20. It was a clear, insulting message: get out of my life. The most pathetic part? I still hadn’t wanted to let go. Not until I received that text message from Chloe. That was what truly killed my love for him. How could he not know? I looked down at the hand gripping my wrist. “Caleb,” I said calmly, “I’m doing very well now. I have never, not for a moment, thought about getting back together with you. You can rest easy.” I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip was like iron. “You’re the one who said it, remember? ‘Don’t come crying back to me after we break up.’ I’ve remembered that every day.” He narrowed his eyes. To dispel any lingering doubt, I added, “I’m married now. My husband has a bit of a temper. If he saw us like this, it wouldn’t be good for anyone.” He snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned. His face was a mask of shock. “You dared to get married behind my back?!” His brow was deeply furrowed. “Where is this husband of yours? What kind of man lets his wife end up looking like this?” I didn’t answer. He suddenly let out a bitter laugh. “I almost fell for it. What, you’re trying to make me jealous by pretending you’re married? You could tell me you have kids and I still wouldn’t care.” He didn’t need to say it. I knew better than anyone that his heart had only ever had room for Chloe. But he was the one who confessed his love to me first. I had asked him again and again if he was truly over her, and only when he swore he’d forgotten her did I agree to be with him. Now, in his version of history, I was the desperate one who wouldn’t let go. I shrugged. “Think whatever you want.” Chloe took a theatrical step back. “Caleb, the smell here is awful. Let’s go. She clearly doesn’t appreciate your concern.” But Caleb’s gaze remained locked on me. He wasn’t moving. Chloe shot me a cold glare. “So stubborn. Fine. We’re meeting our investor today, and we happen to need someone to serve tea. If you’re willing, I can pay you fifty thousand dollars.” She smirked. “That should be enough for someone like you to live on for a whole year, right?” Caleb finally stirred. “Mia, you’re just too proud. You won’t take a handout, but you can accept money you’ve earned, can’t you?” I almost laughed in their faces. “Are you two that bored? I don’t have time to play a part in your twisted little charity game. Please, leave me alone.” I had canceled several major surgeries just to get three days off to spend the summer holiday with my son. And they wanted me to serve them tea? It was ludicrous. My repeated refusals made Caleb’s face darken. Even the ever-composed Chloe couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. The crowd around us began to whisper. “Mr. Grey, that woman is not only poor, she’s stubborn. You’re really going to let her serve your VIP guest?” “I think you should forget it. What if she offends the investor? It would ruin the day for all of us.” The attendant was now in a full-blown panic. “Security! Get her out of here! The investment showcase is about to start! The guest in the presidential suite could come down at any moment!” He glared at me. “Ma’am, the most influential people in Port City are here today! Especially the young master of the Thorne family from Helios City! He even brought his wife and child. This hotel has never hosted an event of this caliber!” he hissed. “Normally, I might turn a blind eye to you digging in the trash. I might even give you some cardboard to sell. But not today! You’re making a scene, and it will destroy this hotel’s reputation! I can’t be responsible for that! Please, I’m begging you, just go.” Security guards moved in, grabbing me roughly. “I can walk myself!” I shouted, shaking them off. Seeing that I was finally leaving, a collective sigh of relief went through the lobby. “Wait!” Caleb’s sharp voice stopped me in my tracks. His eyes were fixed on the bag of shells in my hand. His fists were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. “Mia,” his voice was hoarse, raw with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Why don’t you understand? I don’t need these shells anymore.” I looked down at the shells in my palm, and a memory surfaced. The year he and Chloe broke up was the year his family started sponsoring me. Caleb was a ghost back then, spending his days sitting by the sea, not speaking, not eating. A walking corpse. His mother, worried sick, asked me to keep an eye on him. I took her request to heart. I would sit with him on the beach for hours, day after day. One time, a rogue wave pulled him under, and I dragged him back to shore with every ounce of strength I had, collapsing from exhaustion myself. He held me and cried like a child. In my daze, I grabbed a seashell from the sand and pressed it into his hand. “Caleb,” I’d whispered, “from now on, every time I give you a shell, you have to smile for me. Okay?” He’d nodded, a tearful smile breaking through his despair. After that, I collected shells for him constantly, just to see him smile. It had been so long. If he hadn’t brought it up, I would have forgotten all about it. Seeing my silence, Chloe laughed out loud. “Caleb threw out that box of shells years ago. You can’t possibly think you can win him back with such a childish trick, can you?” she mocked. “It was just a game to him back then, something to humor you. You can’t tell me you actually took it seriously all this time.” Caleb looked at me, his tone flat. “Mia, Chloe and I are getting married. There’s no possibility for us anymore. It’s over.” I had nothing left to say. I turned and walked toward the elevator. Just then, my phone rang. As I reached for it, the attendant snatched it from my hand. He looked the expensive, latest-model phone over with suspicion. “How could you possibly afford a phone like this? Did you steal it?” I froze, forcing my anger down. “That. Is. My. Phone,” I said through gritted teeth. Chloe chuckled as if watching a play, and motioned for the attendant to give it back. “If it’s yours, then unlock it and prove it.” I tried the fingerprint scanner, but my muddy hands wouldn’t register. Face ID failed too, blocked by my messy hair. Just as I was about to type in the passcode, the hotel manager, who had rushed to the scene, snatched the phone away. “Take this to the front desk. Contact our guests immediately and see if anyone has lost a phone.” He then turned to security. “Call the police.” “Wait,” Caleb cut in suddenly. “For my sake, let’s just drop this.” Chloe immediately backed him up. “I’m a lawyer. Theft of an item of this value carries a sentence of at least two years. And as you can all see, she’s not mentally stable. She probably just got confused…” “I didn’t steal anything,” I interrupted. “Since you’re a lawyer, you should know that false accusation carries the same sentence.” My defiance only strengthened the manager’s resolve. He ordered security to restrain me while he dialed the police. At that exact moment, the elevator doors slid open. A three-year-old boy with a tear-streaked face saw me and ran out, his arms outstretched. I knelt down to give him the shells, but Chloe suddenly slapped them out of my hand. The bag scattered across the marble floor. “Mia! Are you insane? Kidnapping a child in front of all these people?!” The boy, startled and scared, burst into terrified sobs. Chloe immediately scooped him up, her voice a soothing murmur. “It’s okay, sweetie. She’s a bad woman, not your mommy. Auntie will help you find your real mommy.” But my son struggled wildly in her arms. “I want Mommy! I want my mommy!” Seeing his red, crying face, my heart felt like it was being shredded. “Let go of my son!” I fought against the guards, trying to get to him, but they held me fast. The lobby filled with ugly, jeering voices. “She’s crazy! Just grabbing any kid and calling him her son! Someone call the police and get her locked up!” “You can’t let a psycho like that run free! She’ll probably burn someone’s house down next!” “Mommy… Mommy…” My son reached for me, his little voice hoarse from crying. I choked back a sob, trying to soothe him even as I struggled. “Don’t cry, baby, Mommy found your shells. I’ll give them to you right now…” I was almost close enough to touch his hand when a guard twisted my arms violently behind my back, preparing to tie them. Caleb sighed deeply and pulled me away from the guards. “I’ll handle this. You go wait outside. I’ll find you after the showcase.” He started dragging me toward the exit. “Let go of me! Caleb, don’t make me hate you!” I screamed, twisting to look back at my son, who was watching me, his little lip trembling. Caleb ignored my pleas, his grip unyielding. Ding. The main elevator doors opened again. A tall, commanding figure stepped out. A perfectly tailored cream-colored suit draped his powerful frame, and he radiated an air of innate, aristocratic authority. “Mr. Thorne,” the crowd murmured in unison, their voices filled with awe. My eyes met his, and my vision blurred with tears.

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For Thanksgiving week, my parents shelled out a fortune for a brand-new RV to take the family on a road trip through the national parks. My mom pinged the family group chat: **”Departure time is imminent! Princesses, get ready! 👑”** I replied with a thumbs-up emoji, just like my older sister Ashley and my younger sister Brooke. Then I finished my last DoorDash delivery and rode my electric scooter back to campus to wait by the main gate. The first stop was Brooke’s dorm. She posted a boomerang on her Instagram story, holding up a slice of watermelon and flashing a peace sign. The caption: **”Parents who spoil you are the best parents! 🤩 Off to Yellowstone for a week of RV life with the fam! #blessed”** The second stop was Ashley’s off-campus apartment. She filmed a short video, panning between two small but stylishly decorated beds in the back of the RV. **”Thank god my parents don’t play favorites. Even in an RV, my sister and I get our own custom beds. 😉”** Staring at the clean, dreamy, Pottery Barn-esque interior on my phone, I tugged self-consciously at my own sweat-soaked DoorDash t-shirt. Hours passed. The campus gates were about to be locked for the night when a new video popped up in the group chat. It was from Brooke. **”Ugh, look how gross Cameron looks. She doesn’t actually think we’re taking her with us, does she?”** The video was shot from inside the RV as it drove right past my campus gate. I was in the frame, still in my bright red delivery uniform, squatting on the curb like a stray dog someone had left behind. A second later, the video was deleted. My legs were stiff as I forced myself to stand up. I muted the family group chat and sent a text to my shift manager at DoorDash. **”Hey Mark, I’m not taking the week off after all. Is the holiday bonus for perfect attendance still on the table?”** If I worked every shift this month, I’d finally have enough saved up for the study abroad program in Finland. I didn’t have a family. But I still had a dream worth chasing. 1 Mark called me back immediately. “I thought you were excited about the trip with your parents,” he said, concern in his voice. “Just suck it up and apologize for whatever it was, Cam,” he advised. “You’re a young woman. Why make your life harder than it has to be?” I curled my fingers into a fist, my voice tight. “They never came… I’m not going.” “They’re busy people,” I added, the familiar excuse tasting like ash in my mouth. “Next time, maybe.” *Next time.* That was the phrase I’d heard my entire life. When I was born, they were in the middle of launching their start-up. They dropped me off with my grandmother upstate, and every holiday, every school break, their promise over the phone was always the same: *We’ll see you next time, sweetie.* When I graduated from middle school, I won the award for top student in my class. I ran to the nearest payphone, clutching my certificate. “Mom! I got first in my cl—” For the first time ever, my mother’s voice was sharp, cutting me off like a knife. “Cameron! Your father and I are in the middle of a huge deal! When will you ever learn to stop being so needy?!” “They say children are a blessing, but you… you feel like a curse!” My dad got on the line, his tone just as harsh. “We are working ourselves to the bone out here to provide for you, Cameron. When are you going to grow up?” “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even our child. You’re such a disappointment.” That was the last time I ever called them. They finally seemed to remember I existed when I got a scholarship to a prestigious high school in the city. After I moved in with them, I realized just how successful they’d become. They lived with Ashley and Brooke in a beautiful suburban house. Both my sisters had their own perfectly decorated “princess” rooms. I was given the guest room on the first floor. For a while, I held onto a secret hope that they would see how much they had neglected me. But compared to Ashley, who they’d always raised, and Brooke, the baby of the family who’d never known anything but comfort, I was just the awkward, unaffectionate middle child. The spare part. That neglect curdled into resentment the year we all took the SATs. I scored high enough to get into Brooke’s dream school. She didn’t. They were furious with me, as if I had stolen her spot, cursed her with bad luck. A notification on my phone screen pulled me from my thoughts. My mom had sent me $100 via Zelle. The message read: **”This month’s allowance. Spend it wisely.”** A hollow, teary laugh escaped my lips. It was the last day of the month, and she was just now remembering to send my allowance. One hundred dollars. That was the budget they had set for me. During my freshman year, I tried to gently explain that $100 a month wasn’t enough. It barely covered my meal plan at the dining hall, let alone textbooks or basic necessities. I even made a little video diary of my daily expenses to show her. Her response was a furious phone call. “You grew up with your grandmother on a farm, Cameron! Where did you learn to be so wasteful with money?” “Do you have any idea how hard we work? We don’t ask you to contribute, but the least you could do is be a little more considerate!” My eyes burned with shame. I quit all my clubs. I started buying the cheapest, generic brand of tampons. Asking my parents for money became the most humiliating act I could imagine. So when my professor recommended me for the fellowship in Finland, my first feeling wasn’t joy. It was anxiety. I spent sleepless nights calculating the costs, trying to figure out how I could possibly earn enough money. The minute this semester started, I began delivering for DoorDash in every spare moment I had. On my very first day, I got lost, worked too late, and missed the dorm lockdown. I ended up squatting by the campus gate, just like tonight, debating whether to spend my meager earnings on a cheap motel room. That’s when I saw Brooke’s post. It was a screenshot of her Postmates order history. The caption: **”OMG just realized I spent over $10k on food delivery last semester! My parents truly refuse to let me suffer lol.”** Ashley had commented below: **”You’re ridiculous! At least I’m saving my allowance to go backpacking through Europe after graduation.”** It was in that moment that I finally understood. My parents had plenty of money. It just had nothing to do with me. 2 When I didn’t immediately accept the Zelle payment, a second text from my mom came through. **”Brooke didn’t mean to call you gross. She’s young and she speaks without thinking. Didn’t you see her apologize in the chat? Don’t make a big deal out of this.”** I clicked back into the muted group chat. After deleting the video, Brooke had sent a flurry of messages. **”Oops wrong chat lol. Cameron didn’t see that did she?”** **”Why isn’t she responding? She’s not mad at me is she??”** **”I’m sorryyyy, I didn’t actually think you’d see it.”** Ashley had chimed in right after: **”Aren’t you busy working anyway? You don’t need to waste your time on a family vacation with us.”** A few half-hearted, joking “apologies,” and because her precious baby was “upset,” my mom immediately came running to scold me. I wiped the tears from my face and typed back, my fingers cold and steady. **”I work because my allowance is $100 a month.”** **”Unlike Brooke, who has $10,000 to spend on Postmates.”** **”And unlike Ashley, who has you to bankroll her trip around the world.”** **”I was never really part of this family, was I?”** **”It’s fine. But I’m never going to forgive any of you.”** I ignored the explosion of angry calls and texts that followed and got back on my scooter. I was focused on my phone, trying to claim a new delivery order, when a speeding sedan shot out of a side street. The world became a blur of screeching tires and shattering plastic. I was thrown from the scooter, and the pavement rushed up to meet me before everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, a searing, throbbing pain radiated through my entire body. Before I could even speak, a hand cracked across my face. My father was standing over my hospital bed, his eyes blazing with fury and disappointment. “Cameron, how could we have raised something so heartless!” he roared. “You were jealous we were leaving without you, so you cooked up this whole drama, didn’t you?!” Ashley stood off to the side, taking off her glasses to dab at her dry eyes. “She did it on purpose,” she sniffled. “She saw my text in the group chat about my friend Sarah picking me up. She crashed into Sarah’s car on purpose!” “She just wanted to embarrass me in front of my friends, to make sure everyone knows my sister is a delivery driver!” My mother wrapped a protective arm around Ashley, cooing at her. Brooke plopped down on the edge of my bed, her weight landing directly on my injured leg. A bolt of white-hot pain shot up my side, but she didn’t seem to notice. She poked me in the chest with a perfectly manicured finger. “You’re so twisted, Cameron,” she said. “Don’t air our dirty laundry in public. We were nice enough to let you work your stupid job, and you repay us by trying to humiliate us?” The scrapes and bruises covering my body were nothing compared to the dull, crushing ache in my chest. No one had asked me where I was hurt. They only cared about their own image. I closed my eyes, my voice a choked whisper. “How is delivering food humiliating?” “How is earning my own living an embarrassment to you?” A hot rush of tears and anger flooded my senses, and the question I had buried for twenty years finally broke free. “Why was I born into this family if it was going to be a mistake?!” “If you didn’t love me, why did you even have me?!” The room fell into a suffocating silence. When I opened my eyes again, only my mother was left. She sat on a chair across the room, her expression cold and appraising. She let out a short, bitter laugh, as if remembering something hateful. “Do you know why we named you Cameron?” she asked, her voice flat. “Because when I was about to get an abortion, some quack doctor told us you were a boy. So your father and I decided to keep you. We gave you a boy’s name, hoping.” “We have fed and clothed you all these years. What right do you have to complain?” My mind went blank. I clutched the thin hospital blanket. “When I start earning real money, I’ll pay you back for everything—” “With what?” she cut me off. “Your DoorDash tips?” “Your father and I would just be grateful if you stopped trying to take things that don’t belong to you. That’s all we ask.” I let my eyes fall shut, exhausted. I had no more words left. 3 My parents signed me out of the hospital against medical advice. The nurses urged me to stay a few more days, but I didn’t have the money to pay for it anyway. As we were leaving, I overheard one of the doctors sigh. “That family looks like they stepped out of a magazine. Why do they treat their middle daughter like she’s a criminal?” I pressed my lips together and said nothing, just hobbled along behind them. When we got to the RV, Brooke turned around. “Why are you still following us? You think pulling that little stunt actually earned you a spot on this trip?” I started to walk past them, toward the main road, but my mother grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the RV door. “Get in the car. You think you can go back to work covered in bandages?” I looked at her, shocked. She avoided my gaze, but I could see a faint redness in her eyes. A bitter, unfamiliar warmth pricked at my heart. It was the first time in my life I had felt even a sliver of twisted, reluctant concern from her, and I found myself unable to refuse. Inside, my parents took the front seats while Ashley and Brooke lounged on their beds, scrolling through their phones. The whole interior was decorated in shades of pink and rose gold. I stood there awkwardly in my dirty, torn DoorDash uniform, feeling completely out of place. My father shook his head in exasperation. “Can one of you just let her sit down for a minute?” Ashley put in her AirPods. “I’m busy explaining to my friends why my sister throws herself in front of cars for attention. I’m so over this.” Brooke sat up and threw a pillow onto the floor. “No way,” she whined. “She’s disgusting. I don’t want her dirt on my bed!” My father glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression a mix of pity and annoyance. “Cameron, just go use the shower in the back.” “You’re a young lady. How can you let yourself get so filthy?” I clenched the hem of my shirt, took off my shoes, and walked to the tiny bathroom. The warm water felt incredible, washing away the grime and some of the exhaustion. Outside, I could hear Brooke’s whining. “Mom, look! She got her gross footprints all over my favorite bath mat!” “This is so annoying! Can’t we just drop her back at her dorm?” Ashley chimed in. “Seriously, it’s like having a stranger with us. It’s so awkward.” My mother cut them off. “Alright, that’s enough. It’s just a bath mat. I’ll wash it for you, and when we get back, I’ll buy you ten new ones, how about that?” My father’s low voice rumbled in agreement. “And didn’t we promise you that condo for graduation? You can cover the whole floor with them then.” Suddenly, the warm water in the shower turned ice-cold. The shock of it made me gasp. My mother was outside, washing the bath mat, using up all the hot water, completely forgetting I was in here. Just like they discussed my fate as if I couldn’t hear them. I was used to it. But still, the tears came, hot and silent, mixing with the freezing water. Hidden by the sound of the shower, I finally let myself cry for twenty years of accumulated loneliness. 4 I stepped out of the bathroom, shivering, wrapped in a towel. Brooke’s head snapped up. She let out a shriek and lunged at me, trying to rip the towel away. “Who said you could use my towel?! This is from Neiman Marcus! You’re not worthy of touching it!” My face flushed with humiliation as I clutched the towel tightly. “My clothes are wet! I’ll change as soon as they’re dry!” “I’m sorry, Brooke, I’ll wash it for you as soon as I can, okay?” She dug her nails into my arm. “Now! Take it off right now!” My mother came over and pulled us apart, rubbing her temples. “What is it now? Can you two go five minutes without fighting?” Brooke’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Mom, she stole my birthday present! This towel has my monogram on it! I haven’t even used it yet!” My mother’s glare was ice. “Cameron, we let you manipulate your way onto this trip. Why do you have to keep causing problems? Does it make you happy to make everyone else miserable?” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and silently picked up my still-damp, dirty clothes. “I’ll change right now.” I hung the freshly washed designer towel up to dry and found a small corner of the floor to curl up on. I hadn’t slept in what felt like days, and between the accident and the brewing fever, my head felt like it was full of cotton. I just wanted to close my eyes. The RV hit the highway as night fell. Ashley stepped over me to get to the bathroom. A moment later, I heard a piercing scream. She stormed out, her hair dripping wet, and slapped me hard across the face. The force of it knocked me from my sitting position onto the floor. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?!” she shrieked, pointing at me with disgust. “You turned the water heater off! You want me to get sick so you can take my spot on this trip? In your dreams!” My mother rushed over with a dry towel and started rubbing Ashley’s hair. “Sweetie, are you okay? Does your head hurt? I’ll make you some hot tea, don’t you worry.” Ashley clung to our mother, her voice filled with venom. “She’s a psycho, Mom. She’s been trying to ruin this trip from the second she got on. If she’s here, none of us are going to have any fun!” This time, my mother didn’t yell at me. She just looked at me with a cold, weary expression, as if I were a complete stranger she was tired of dealing with. “Tonight,” she said, her voice flat, “you’re sleeping at the truck stop.” “Don’t you dare ruin what little bit of family feeling we have left, Cameron.” They pulled into a desolate, 24-hour truck stop and pushed me out the door. I heard the lock click behind me. Through the window, I could see them setting up the projector to watch a movie. My mother was making hot chocolate for Ashley. Inside, it looked like a cozy, loving home. Outside, I squatted in my damp clothes, shivering in the cold. I waited until all the lights inside went out, but the door never opened. There was no motel, so I curled up on a metal bench, clutching my phone. The balance of my savings account was my only source of warmth. If I could just survive this week, I could go back to campus and finally be free. For the next few days, my fever came and went. I begged to stay and rest in the RV, but Brooke threw a fit. “If you stay here alone, who knows what you’ll steal!” So I became their pack mule. I carried their souvenirs, their backpacks, and I was the designated videographer for their happy, four-person family moments. The last stop on their seven-day trip was Lake Jenny in the Grand Tetons. As a “reward” for being so obedient, they let me come with them on the tour boat. Before we boarded, my father pulled me aside. “Your sisters have actually been in a good mood the last few days,” he warned, his voice low. “You keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told, and tonight, I’ll let you sleep in the RV.” My fever-addled brain could barely process his words. I just nodded numbly. He looked at my weak, unsteady posture with disgust. “Who are you trying to guilt-trip with that pathetic act? Your mother and I are not the kind of people who let one person’s mood ruin a vacation. Don’t think for a second we’ll cut this trip short for you.” Out on the sparkling water, the tour guide offered to take a family photo. I instinctively took everyone’s bags and started to step away, but my mother grabbed my hand and pulled me back. “You behave,” she hissed, “and I’ll still acknowledge you as my daughter. Got it?” She positioned me on the very edge of the group, just barely in the frame. As the camera shutter clicked, I felt a hard shove from behind. My body tilted, tipping uncontrollably over the side of the boat. A desperate survival instinct kicked in. Just before my strength gave out completely, my hand shot out and clamped down on a piece of clothing. *SPLASH!* *SPLASH!* Two bodies hit the water. The boat erupted in screams. I had pulled my mother in with me. As the icy water closed over my head, a strange sense of peace and release washed over me. Acting on pure instinct, I used my last ounce of strength to push her upward, toward the surface. I felt her being pulled from the water by other hands. Then, I lost consciousness completely.

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Chloe has a guy best friend, Leo. Their relationship is the kind where they can share an ice cream cone, crash on the same bed, and think nothing of it. I told them they needed to create some distance. Her response was impatient. “Ethan, if something was going to happen between us, it would have happened years ago. Can’t you just give us a little trust?” Fine. So I went out and got a girl-bro of my own. 1 The last time Chloe stayed out all night with Leo, my reaction was… nothing. I was calm. She got home around noon, carrying a box of pastries from that new artisan bakery downtown. Seeing me, she offered a rare, unprompted explanation. “We haven’t all hung out in forever. We had a few too many drinks and just crashed at a hotel. But it wasn’t one bed this time,” she emphasized. “I took the floor.” She stressed that last part because the time before, it had ended in a massive fight. I accused her of having no boundaries for a married woman and demanded a confrontation with Leo. Leo was the guy they all grew up with in their wealthy, gated community. He’s the kind of loud, life-of-the-party guy who treats everyone like his buddy. I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen him casually pull one of the girls from their friend group onto his lap or share a drink from the same glass without a second thought. In the beginning, Chloe was patient with my concerns. But eventually, she got fed up. “If something was going to happen, it would have happened long before I married you,” she’d snapped before storming out. The funny thing was, her friends all took her side. “You just don’t get Leo,” one of them told me. “We’ve known him our whole lives. That’s just his personality. Chloe basically sees him as a kid brother.” A kid? He was twenty-five years old. The whole thing made my skin crawl. I told her if they couldn’t learn some discretion, I wanted a divorce. After that, she did keep her distance from him for a while. But the result was that Leo started making passive-aggressive digs at me whenever I was around. “Hey man, see? I’m not even sitting next to Chloe.” “Chlo, you should probably skip the after-party with us. Don’t want to make the husband angry.” “The old Chloe is gone, guys. She’s on a leash now. Can’t get too close.” He always said these things in front of the whole group, creating this awkward, tense atmosphere. Before long, my reputation was sealed: I was the petty, jealous, unreasonable husband. My relationship with Chloe has been strained and distant ever since. I snapped back to the present. I looked at the box of pastries in her hands. They used to be my favorite. Now, I felt nothing. Chloe noticed my indifference. She set the box on the counter and wrapped her arms around me from behind, her voice a soft, placating purr. “Honey, you’ve been wanting to see that new action movie, right? I took the day off. We can go see it, just the two of us.” I had been waiting for that movie for months. The day it came out, I’d asked Chloe to go. She said she was busy. A few days later, I saw Leo’s Instagram story. A picture of two movie tickets. No faces were shown, but the delicate hand in the corner of the shot was unmistakable. So was the simple, elegant wedding band on her ring finger. I could smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke on her—not her brand. I gently untangled myself from her embrace. “No thanks,” I said, my voice flat. I went back to packing my suitcase. “Ethan,” Chloe said, her voice sharpened with anger. She saw what I was doing and grabbed my arm. “Are you really going to pull this again? Running away? I already told you, nothing happened between me and Leo.” “I know,” I said, calmly pulling my arm free. “You’re just besties.” That seemed to shut her up. She looked uncomfortable, dropping her hand. “Then what is all this about?” “It’s a business trip.” Her expression soured even more. She stared at me, searching my face for any sign of a lie, any crack in the facade. But there was nothing. I was perfectly calm. Because I just didn’t care anymore. Who she saw movies with, who she stayed out all night with, who she went on dates with… Whatever. 2 The fact that I wasn’t angry seemed to make Chloe even angrier. Convinced I was just being difficult, she decided to double down on her peace offering. She pulled out her phone, ready to buy the movie tickets right then and there. I watched her frantically scroll through the app. Finally, I couldn’t help it. “That movie’s not in theaters anymore,” I said softly. Her fingers froze on the screen. For a split second, I saw a storm of emotions cross her face—shock, guilt, frustration. A heavy silence filled the space between us. The pastries on the counter were getting cold. I bent down, zipped my suitcase shut, and stood it by the door. … After that day, Chloe’s attitude toward me changed. She was suddenly… attentive. For the few days I was on my trip, she texted me good morning and good night, asking exactly when my flight was getting back. I told her. The day I returned, I saw her car as I walked out of the airport terminal. A sleek, black Porsche Cayenne, parked at the curb. She got out as soon as she saw me and walked over, naturally taking my suitcase from my hand. But as I followed her to the car, I saw him. Leo. Lounging in the passenger seat. He had one leg propped on the dashboard, an arm hanging out the window. He grinned when he saw me. “Ethan, my man! Just catching a ride. I’ll give you your seat back in a sec, dude.” He was all smiles, but he didn’t move an inch. Chloe came back after putting my bag in the trunk and saw me standing there. “He was just in the area,” she said, her tone a little defensive. “I figured we could give him a lift. He gets carsick, so I let him sit up front for this part of the ride.” During one of our earlier fights, I’d brought up the fact that Leo *always* claimed the passenger seat whenever he was with us. Before I could say a word this time, Leo leaned his head out the window. “Seriously, man, Chloe was a lifesaver. It’s impossible to get an Uber out where I was. You can check the group chat if you don’t believe me.” *The group chat.* The one all her childhood friends were in. The one I wasn’t invited to. “Of course,” Leo continued, pretending to throw a playful punch at Chloe’s shoulder, “if she’d left me stranded, I would have had to tell her parents on her!” He stopped his arm mid-air, then glanced at me with a performative wince. “Whoa, sorry, man. Force of habit. Meant nothing by it.” Ever since our big fight, Leo’s tactic had changed. He’d gone from being casually, thoughtlessly physical with her to being performatively, “oops-I-forgot” physical. It was a subtle way of framing the narrative: *Ethan is so controlling that I have to constantly watch myself around my best friend.* But if he was really so conscious of keeping his distance, why was he still crashing at hotels with her? Why the one-on-one movie dates? I could see the challenge in his eyes, a flicker of smug victory. This little game used to drive me crazy. But now… I was just tired. I couldn’t even be bothered. As Chloe started to tell Leo to get out of the seat, I just waved my hand and opened the back door. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’ve got a friend with me anyway. We’ll just ride in the back together.” “A friend? Where?” Chloe asked, confused. Before she could finish, someone called my name. I turned, and my expression instantly changed. A stunning woman with curves in all the right places, dressed to kill, was rushing toward us, pulling a small roller bag behind her. She stopped right in front of me and pouted. “Ethan! You just disappeared on me! I turn around for one second to grab my bag, and you’re gone.” Then she wrapped her arm around mine, leaning against me with a playful sigh. “I’m in a brand-new city. You can’t just abandon me. You have to take responsibility for me.” 3 Chloe and Leo both stared, frozen. Chloe recovered first, pulling me away from the woman. “This is your ‘friend’?” she asked, her voice laced with ice. Her brow was furrowed so tightly you could have parked a bike in it. “That’s right,” the woman said, stepping forward and extending a hand to Chloe with a dazzling smile. “I’m Ethan’s bro, Maya.” Maya shook Chloe’s hand, then casually put her own suitcase in the trunk, hopped into the back seat, and waved at me excitedly. “Ethan, come on, get in!” I started to get in, but Chloe blocked my way. “Honey,” she said, her voice low and tight, “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be sitting back there with… another woman.” She was standing so close I could practically hear her teeth grinding. “Why not?” I asked, feigning confusion. “We’re just bros.” I glanced over her shoulder at Leo, still comfortably installed in the passenger seat. For once, Chloe was speechless. … The entire ride, Maya and I chatted and laughed in the back. The front of the car was eerily silent. It wasn’t that Leo wasn’t trying. He’s a born chatterbox. Usually on these rides, he and Chloe would go on and on about old inside jokes, gossip from their neighborhood—topics I could never participate in. But today, no matter what conversational bait Leo threw out, Chloe’s responses were clipped and cool. The thirty-minute drive felt like fifteen. After we dropped them both off, she got out and opened the front passenger door for me. “You can sit up front now.” I gave her a quizzical look but didn’t move. “I’m good back here,” I said mildly. “I’m tired. Let’s just get home.” I closed my eyes, feigning sleep. The sound of her slamming the car door was louder than I had ever heard it before. 4 Chloe stalked into the house, her face a thundercloud. I had just kicked off my shoes when I saw her sitting on the living room couch, arms crossed, her expression a mixture of anger and confusion. “What is your relationship with that woman?” she demanded. I looked at her, my voice even. “I told you. We’re sisters.” “A grown woman is your ‘sister’? Ethan, was your whole business trip just an excuse to go away with her? You spent days alone with another woman…” Her anger grew as she spoke, and she shoved my suitcase, making it tip over. That finally got a reaction out of me. I righted the suitcase and faced her. “My work partner is either going to be a man or a woman. She happens to have a great personality. We get along. What’s the problem with being bros?” “Of course there’s a problem! She’s a woman! A woman can’t be a bro!” “Why not?” I shot back. “You can have a guy bestie, but I can’t have a girl-bro?” That stopped her cold. I had never seen so many conflicting emotions on her face at once: shock, frustration, and a deep, simmering resentment. Finally, she forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Leo is different. We grew up together. If something was going to happen—” “And Maya and I are different,” I cut her off, using her own words against her. “Can’t you just give us a little trust?” 5 Chloe was furious. For the next few days, she gave me the silent treatment. The tense peace was broken when her parents invited us over for dinner. At the table, they could immediately tell something was wrong. “Chloe,” her mother said gently, “Ethan moved all the way out here for you, leaving his own family behind. You need to treat him right.” Chloe and I met in college. I was an only child, and the plan had always been for me to move back home after graduation. But for her, I stayed. Her parents’ words seemed to soften her. As we were leaving, she reached for my hand. “Ethan, I…” Before she could finish, an arm slung around her neck. “Chlo! I can’t believe you were back in the neighborhood and didn’t say anything! We’re all getting together, you have to come!” It was Leo. Once again, shamelessly draping himself all over her. But this time, Chloe didn’t laugh it off. She stiffened, pulling his arm away and glancing nervously at me. Leo noticed me and made a show of it. “*Tsk, tsk.* Oh, the husband is here?” he said, winking at the group of friends who had followed him. He took a dramatic step back, bumping into the others. “Chloe, you sneak!” one of the girls exclaimed. “If Leo hadn’t seen you, you would have gotten away!” “Yeah, everyone’s here,” another chimed in. “Come hang out!” The excitement on Chloe’s face was obvious. But unlike every other time, she didn’t immediately agree. She looked at me, her eyes asking for permission. The whole group noticed. They had always treated me like an outsider, the awkward appendage to their tight-knit circle. They could never really let loose when I was around, thanks in no small part to Leo. “Do you want to go with them?” Chloe asked me hesitantly. The air grew thick. I could feel the tension. Leo was practically glaring at me, shooting looks at the others. They were all waiting for my answer. They didn’t want me to come, but they wanted me to let Chloe go. I gave them exactly what they wanted. I gently pulled my hand from hers. My voice was calm and soft. “You go ahead,” I said. “I’ll just get an Uber home.” No one spoke. The silence was heavy, awkward. Finally, Chloe looked both relieved and guilty. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll… I’ll try to be home early.” It was an empty promise. I just smiled and walked out of her parents’ driveway. As I turned my back, I heard one of them say, “Whoa, did Ethan have a personality transplant? He’s not jealous of Leo anymore? He’s actually letting you come out with us?” 6 At 11 PM, Chloe wasn’t home. I didn’t text her. I didn’t call. Because I was out with Maya. We were at the city’s loudest, most crowded club with a group of friends. The bass vibrated through the floor, a pulsing, hypnotic beat that made you want to forget everything. We found a big booth and the drinks started flowing. After a few rounds, one of my friends nudged me and pointed across the room. “Damn, check out that table over there. They’re going wild.” Everyone turned to look. I followed their gaze. And I saw them. It was Chloe’s crew. The whole childhood gang. The table was littered with empty bottles. Chloe was in the center of the booth, looking down at her phone. As I watched, Leo snatched the phone out of her hand. Then he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping an arm around her waist as he held up a bottle of tequila. The rest of the table erupted in cheers. “Looks like they’re playing a drinking game,” someone next to me yelled over the music. “A dare, maybe. Mouth-to-mouth shot?” “That guy is nuts!” another friend shouted. “A minute ago they dared him to take his belt off, and he whipped it out and put it around some girl’s neck like a leash! The guy has no fear.” “I’ve seen one guy with seven girls before, but never the other way around,” someone laughed. They were all laughing. I wasn’t. Because I watched as Chloe, in the middle of all the cheering and shouting, tilted her head back. I watched as Leo took a mouthful of tequila, leaned in, and she parted her lips to receive it.

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“I was helping my daughter with her homework, and I pronounced ‘forte’ as ‘for-tay’ when talking about someone’s strength. My wife, Claire, corrected me. ‘It’s pronounced ‘fort,’ Leo.’” So I asked for a divorce. Claire looked at me, completely baffled. “Over a single word?” I was about to nod when a series of comments suddenly materialized in the air in front of me, like a Twitch chat overlaying my vision. 【Here we go! This is the part where the loser side-character gets all pedantic about a word and tries to divorce the main character!】 【I feel so bad for her. Everyone knows it’s pronounced ‘fort’ when it’s a strength. Is it her fault he doesn’t know that?】 【NGL, we gotta thank this guy. If he didn’t throw this tantrum, she’d never realize how confident and charming the *real* male lead is and get her happy ending.】 【LMAO, he has no idea. He thinks he’s making a point, but he’s just handing his wife over on a silver platter. Later, he’s gonna be on his knees begging, but she won’t take him back. Even his own daughter will disown him!】 My face went rigid. I instinctively glanced at my daughter, Chloe. Her brow was furrowed in pure, unfiltered disgust. “Godfather Ethan says people who don’t know that are basically illiterate.” She scowled. “Daddy, you can’t get mad at Mommy just because you’re illiterate.” So the pop-up comments were real. The “male lead” had already woven himself into our lives, and I’d been completely oblivious. I turned and went to pack a bag. “That’s right,” I said, my voice cold. “Over a single word.” 1 The love letters Claire wrote me? I left them. The anniversary gifts she’d given me over the years? Didn’t want them. Even the matching hoodies we bought in college, the ones she used to love wearing? I left them in the closet. I packed only the absolute necessities into a single carry-on suitcase. When I wheeled it out of the bedroom, the warm yellow light of the living room was still on. Claire was half-turned towards me, the other half of her body swallowed by the shadows. She was wearing a thin silk robe, lounging on the couch with her laptop open. She was in a meeting, but there were only two people in the video call. Her. And the man my daughter Chloe called “Godfather Ethan.” He was in a crisp white shirt, a cigarette held between his long, elegant fingers. His voice was deep, detached. “The project is on track. Let’s move on from business, shall we? Chloe called me earlier, said she wanted my help with her homework. What’s going on? Where’s her dad?” I was rolling my suitcase toward the front door as Claire answered him. A small smile played on her lips. Her eyes met mine, and she raised an eyebrow, a clear glint of challenge in her gaze. “He says he wants a divorce.” She paused for effect. “Because I corrected his pronunciation.” I opened the front door, my voice flat. “Claire, I’m leaving.” “Fine,” she shot back. “When do you want to go to City Hall?” “Tomorrow. 2:30 PM. I’ll meet you there.” I pulled the door shut, closing off the look of sudden shock on her face, sealing it in another world. The comments in front of my eyes exploded. 【??? Wait, what? He’s not following the script! Isn’t he supposed to see them in a private meeting and throw a massive, jealous fit?】 【Dude, c’mon, stick to your role! You have one job! We need your unreasonable tantrum to highlight how calm, cool, and collected our leading man is! Go back in there and start a fight! A huge one!】 【Y’all need to chill. You know what a drama queen this side-character is. He packed a tiny carry-on and left all the ‘important’ stuff behind. He’s just putting on a show. He totally thinks he’ll be back. It’s a classic manipulation tactic.】 【I’ll bet you twenty bucks he comes crawling back in less than three days.】 【You’re giving him too much credit. I bet he doesn’t even last the night!】 I closed my eyes, my hand gripping the handle of my suitcase so hard my knuckles turned white. They didn’t know. I didn’t leave those important things because I planned on coming back. I left them because they weren’t important to me anymore. 2 To get me to go out with her, Claire wrote me 99 love letters in college. Back then, I wasn’t interested in dating. I was a scholarship kid from a small town, laser-focused on getting into a top-tier grad program, joining my professor’s research lab, and dedicating my life to astrophysics. But she was persistent. It was like she brought every romantic movie cliché to life right in front of me. For a guy like me, who’d only ever known textbooks and late-night study sessions, it was a whole new world. Fireworks over the Magic Kingdom at Disney World. Watching the stars from a boat in the middle of the ocean. A ridiculously over-the-top declaration of love on a trip to the desert. After I’d turned her down again and again, she’d just smile, her eyes sparkling. “Leo, I can wait. Whenever you’re ready to look my way, I’ll be here.” In the end, I couldn’t resist. We started dating. Those were the three happiest years of my life. I, the guy who never cared about appearances, even bought us matching hoodies. Claire would pretend to complain about my taste while preening in the mirror. “This way, the whole world knows you’re mine, Leo.” Everyone said we were perfect. I was the “genius campus heartthrob,” and she was the “stunningly rich and popular girl.” They’d say, “If you two don’t make it, I’m giving up on love forever.” So, when we graduated, she proposed to me. Saying yes meant giving up my spot in the PhD program in Boston. It meant moving with her to a new, unfamiliar city—Seattle—and starting from scratch to find my own way. I didn’t hesitate. I found a job in Seattle, and my work ethic got me promoted to department manager in record time. Starting with our first anniversary, Claire always got me a gift. Every year, she’d pick out something perfect, something that spoke right to my soul. With a great career and a loving marriage, I naively thought that even without my research, I could build a meaningful life. Then Claire got pregnant. I was so excited I picked her up and spun her around, but I stopped when I saw the strained smile on her face. A flash of disappointment crossed my own. “I know,” I said softly. “This is a huge time for your career. If you don’t want to… it’s okay.” She forced another smile, but as she turned away, I heard the faint, involuntary sigh escape her lips. I stayed up all night. As the sun came up, I gathered all her anniversary gifts, the love letters, the matching hoodies, and put them in a box. I sealed it shut, and with it, I sealed away the ambitious, bright-eyed young man I used to be. A year later, after a difficult birth, our daughter Chloe was born. My life became completely anchored to our family. I traded my suits and dress shoes for sweatpants. I gave up my three-times-a-week gym sessions and my bi-weekly hikes. I became a full-blown stay-at-home dad. The first time I realized something was deeply wrong was late one night. Claire came home drunk, sliding into bed next to me. Her hands slipped under the waistband of my pajama pants. As I leaned in to kiss her, she suddenly seemed to sober up. In the dark, she instinctively turned her head away, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Leo… have you gained weight?” Yeah. I had. I had no time for the gym anymore. I ate whatever was fast and easy while taking care of Chloe. My metabolism had slowed to a crawl. Over time, the pounds had crept on silently. When I sat down, my stomach folded into three distinct rolls. I wasn’t the same brilliant, dazzling Leo anymore. I didn’t say anything. But then Claire got out of bed, walked to the balcony, and lit a cigarette. The cool moonlight mixed with the smoke. I couldn’t see her face, but I saw her shoulders relax. She was thinking of someone. She flicked the ash off the end. “I’ll transfer you some money. Go buy yourself some decent clothes tomorrow,” she said, her voice distant. “Ethan was saying that the new collection at Nordstrom is pretty good. You shouldn’t just be cooped up at home in pajamas all day.” That was the first time I’d ever heard her mention the name Ethan. I didn’t think anything of it. Not until tonight, when I saw him for the first time in that private meeting with my wife. 3 Taking care of Chloe consumed my entire life. I trusted Claire completely, so I never asked about her work. As a result, I learned everything I knew about Ethan from the pop-up comments. He’d been brought into her company as a senior executive three months ago. At first, no one was impressed, including Claire. But in ten days, he’d won everyone over. They all called him “Ethan,” said he wasn’t just handsome but brilliant. A true “leading man.” I looked at my own reflection in the window. 190 pounds, wearing a stretched-out t-shirt and cargo shorts, with rough skin and dry, unkempt hair. Of course Claire and Ethan would end up together. I wasn’t surprised at all. She always did love people who shined. And I, worn down to a numb shell by domestic life, had almost forgotten… I used to shine, too. I found my old professor’s number and called him. We hadn’t parted on the best of terms when I chose to leave. I had a Plan B ready. But to my surprise, the moment he heard my voice and my idea about coming back, he sounded genuinely excited. “Leo, it’s not too late,” he said. “Compared to tomorrow, today is never too late.” I gripped the phone tighter, taking a deep breath. “Okay, professor. I’ll book a flight to Boston as soon as I can to discuss it with you in person.” After I hung up, the comments were scrolling so fast I could barely read them. 【Is this guy for real? A stay-at-home dad who’s completely out of touch with the world wants to go back to academic research? Is he crazy, am I crazy, or is the whole world crazy?】 【No, guys, you’re missing the point. He’s just jealous of our boy Ethan. A handsome, successful, powerful rival shows up, and suddenly he feels threatened. So now he has to ‘improve himself.’ Pathetic.】 【LMAO, I can’t. Where does he get the nerve? Our boy Ethan is the main character. What makes this washed-up, passive-aggressive side-character think he can even compete?】 【I think he should just go kneel and apologize to Claire right now. It’s probably his only chance to save his marriage.】 【Too late! Remember last night? Ethan comforted Claire all night after their fight. She’s already falling for him! She even brought him a homemade sandwich for breakfast this morning.】 My hand on the doorknob tightened. I suddenly remembered a time, long, long ago, when Claire, who couldn’t cook to save her life, learned how to make sandwiches just for me. “If you like them,” she’d said, “I’ll make them for you forever. Just for you.” But at some point, she’d stopped. Her excuse was always that she was too busy in the morning. But one time, when I pressed her, she snapped, the truth slipping out. “Leo, can’t you just eat less? Do you know how many calories are in a sandwich?” So, her disgust with me started that long ago. It had been there all along. And somehow, I’d just… taken it. For years. I had to ask myself: was this really me? Was this the Leo I was supposed to be? 4 Before going to City Hall, I got a haircut. The comment-stream was a wall of mockery. 【LOL, told you so! All you guys who bet against me yesterday, pay up! He’s getting all dressed up to go beg for forgiveness.】 【Ugh, so cringey. Couldn’t even last 24 hours. What a simp.】 【No wonder she fell out of love with him. Who wants a whiny, manipulative loser like that?】 I ignored them, a phantom buzzing in my ears, and just focused on my plan. At 2:30 PM, I arrived at City Hall right on time. Claire was ten minutes late. A sleek, unfamiliar Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down, and Ethan was behind the wheel. He looked me up and down, a smirk playing on his lips. “Leo. Good to meet you.” Claire got out of the passenger seat. “Sorry, a meeting ran long,” she said coolly. I smiled faintly. “Another private two-person meeting?” She frowned. “Leo, you don’t have to be like this.” “Ethan got his JD/MBA,” she explained, gesturing back at the car. “Since we’re getting divorced, we need to be clear about the division of assets, and also…” Her gaze shifted to the back seat. “Chloe’s custody.” The comments seemed to sense my hesitation. 【Here it comes. The side-character is gonna lose it now. His daughter is his whole world. No way he gives her up.】 【Too bad for him, Chloe is already Team Ethan. When you have a cool, handsome, generous godfather, who wants to live with their broke, ugly, loser dad?】 Even with my god-like view of the situation, the comments didn’t completely control me. Chloe is seven. For the past seven years, I’ve poured every ounce of my energy and my heart into raising her. She was my everything. The thought of letting her go was a physical pain. But just as I was about to speak, Chloe clutched Claire’s jacket, hiding behind her. She peeked out at me, her eyes wide with what looked like fear. “Mommy,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “Daddy doesn’t even know how to pronounce words right. How is he supposed to raise me?” Something inside me snapped. All my hesitation vanished. I let out a short, bitter laugh and turned towards the entrance of the building. “Fine,” I said over my shoulder. “You can have her. I don’t want her.” 5 When it was time to sign the papers, the clerk did her due diligence. “Are you two sure about this? Divorce is a major life decision. You shouldn’t sign just because you’re angry about something trivial.” Claire, holding the pen, leaned back in her chair. A smirk touched her lips. “Did you hear that, Leo?” she drawled. “It’s just one word. Don’t be so petty.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Your entire life has revolved around Chloe for years. Are you sure you can live without her?” Her tone was so dismissive, so utterly confident. Even here, sitting at a table with divorce papers between us, she still thought this was all just a game. A tantrum I was throwing to get attention. It was only then that I realized how long we’d been together. So long that it wasn’t just me who had lost sight of the person I used to be. Claire had forgotten, too. She had no memory of the man I was before I became just… her husband. Chloe’s dad. Without a moment’s hesitation, I uncapped the pen and signed my name.

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Liam refused to change his profile picture to a matching one with me. Again. But he had no problem letting that pretty new girl in his lab start a rumor that he was her boyfriend. I gave him an ultimatum: either clear it up, or we’re done. Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice tired through the phone. “She only said that to get some creepy guy to leave her alone, Chloe.” He sighed. “I just spent ten hours on a plane to get back. Are you sure you want to fight about something so insignificant right now?” That was Liam’s go-to move. Matching profile pics? Insignificant. Posting a photo of me on his Instagram? Insignificant. And now, letting someone else call him their boyfriend and not shutting it down? Also, somehow, insignificant. What he really meant was that *I* was insignificant. I let out a long, slow breath, my voice surprisingly calm. “I don’t want to fight either, Liam. That’s why we’re breaking up.” 1 I always thought that when I finally said the word “breakup,” I’d be a sobbing mess. But I wasn’t. The tears had already run out during all the nights he’d ignored my calls and left my texts on ‘read’. “I don’t agree to this breakup,” Liam said flatly over the video call. His voice was cold, detached. He was multitasking, typing out an email on his laptop while he talked to me. His eyes never once met the camera. “Stop being dramatic, Chloe. You’re not thinking clearly. We’ll talk when I get back to campus.” *Stop being dramatic.* His favorite three words. I took a deep breath. “What’s the point, Liam? You and Ava look more like a couple than we do.” He finally paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. His eyes, for the first time, flicked up to the screen. “Why would you say that?” Ava. The new girl in Liam’s grad program. While I was lucky to see Liam for a quick dinner once every couple of weeks, Ava spent ten hours a day with him in the lab. The university’s homepage even had a featured story on outstanding research students with a picture of the two of them, side-by-side, smiling. Me and Liam? We had nothing. No matching profile pics, no tagged photos on Instagram, nothing. I only knew Liam was back in the country from his conference in Geneva because of Ava’s Instagram story. The night before, she’d posted a selfie of them at a café near the airport. The caption read: *So excited for my new mentor to show me the ropes! Big things coming! 😉* The comments section was a flood of “OMG you two are so cute together! ❤️” and “Finally!! 🙌” Seeing it felt like a punch to the gut. My head just about exploded. I blew up his phone, calling and texting, but got nothing but silence. When I finally tracked Ava down on campus, she was laughing with a group of friends, looking shy and pleased. I asked her what the hell her post was about. She just blinked at me, playing dumb. “Chloe, what are you talking about?” I pulled up the post on my phone. Ava smiled, her voice a syrupy sweet. “Oh, *that*? Liam’s just agreed to be the lead on my new project. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you’d take it the wrong way.” “The comments,” I said through gritted teeth. “People think you’re a couple.” “I can’t control what people assume,” she said with a little shrug. “It’s not like I forced them to write that.” I felt like I was punching a pillow. “Then please, clarify it. Tell them they’re wrong.” Ava flicked her hair over her shoulder, looking bored. “I’m super busy right now. Liam is waiting on my data for his paper, so I don’t really have time to police my comments section. Besides,” she added, her eyes sweeping over me with a look I couldn’t quite decipher, “I’m a victim of this rumor too, you know. Why are you attacking me?” She paused, then delivered the final blow. “Honestly, if people were so quick to believe it, maybe you should think about why that is.” That night, I cried until my eyes were swollen shut. It wasn’t just because of Ava, but because of Liam’s suffocating silence. How busy could a person possibly be that they can’t find ten seconds to reply to a text? When he finally answered my video call, he had the look of a man dealing with a hysterical child. “She did it to get some clingy guy off her back.” “She could have called campus security,” I insisted, my voice thick. “Why did she have to do *that*?” Liam sighed, the sound crackling through the speaker. “Because it was complicated and a waste of time. The professor’s deadline is breathing down our necks, and finishing the experiment is what’s important. I told Ava to delete everything. Can we just drop it now?” This was a person I’d loved for nine years, since we were dumb kids in high school. I tried one last time to be vulnerable, to crack myself open and show him how much he was hurting me. “Liam, it’s about your attitude. I just… I just need to feel secure.” The clacking of his keyboard started up again. His attention was already back on his laptop. “What I say doesn’t matter. Facts matter. And security isn’t something I’m supposed to give you. It’s something you should give yourself.” I was just so tired. I didn’t have the energy to argue about who was right or wrong anymore. I didn’t want to be that screaming, hysterical girl he saw me as. I sniffled, forcing back the lump in my throat. “Just change your profile picture to the one I sent you. We’ll drop it after that, okay?” I could hear the soft, rhythmic tapping of his finger on his desk. He was thinking. Not about me, but about how to word that email. The email he’d been focused on since the start of our call. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke. “Only the truth matters. And the truth is, I’m with you. What other people think doesn’t change the fact that you’re my girlfriend.” But I didn’t want the “truth.” I wanted all the stupid, meaningless, superficial things he looked down on. I wanted the proof. I was about to hang up when a new voice cut through from his end. A girl’s voice. Ava’s voice. “Liam, is she giving you a hard time again? I already explained everything to her the other day when she ambushed me. I can’t believe she’s still going on about it. I don’t get why she’s so insecure.” I froze. My blood ran cold. It felt like I was standing naked in the middle of a crowded street. Ava was right there. Next to him. Which meant she’d heard every single word I’d just said. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Liam, why is it that the first person you see after you land isn’t me, but her?” Before Liam could answer, Ava’s smiling face squeezed into the frame. “Chloe, don’t misunderstand—” I slammed my laptop shut. 2 The next day, Liam found me outside my lecture hall. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked exhausted. He probably flew back, dumped his bags, and went straight to the lab to work all night. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice flat. “That new Italian place you wanted to try is open. I’m free today. Let’s go.” He started walking, then realized I wasn’t following him. He turned, looking back at me with a slight tilt of his head. It was his signature move—a quiet, unshakeable confidence that I would always, eventually, walk toward him. Any other time, I probably would have run and thrown my arms around him. But today, I turned and walked in the opposite direction. I heard his footsteps behind me, and then his hand was on my wrist. He rubbed his forehead. “Don’t be like this, Chloe. I didn’t go to see Ava. She showed up at the airport to pick me up. There was some urgent data we had to go over, so we just talked in the lounge for a bit.” He held out a small paper bag. “I got you these on my layover in Brussels. They’re chocolates.” Last month, after another conference, he’d brought me the exact same box of chocolates. I’d specifically, carefully, told him then. “Please, no more snacks. I’m not a huge fan. If you want to get me a gift, maybe some jewelry? Like a handmade bracelet, or even just a cute hair tie would be great.” He had mumbled “okay.” I thought he’d actually heard me. The bag hung in the air between us. He must have seen the look on my face, because his brow furrowed slightly. “Open it.” “I told you I don’t like sweets. Did you forget?” Liam looked blank for a second. I managed a small, humorless smile. “Did you get these for me because no one else wanted them? Or did you remember, but decided it was just easier to buy the same gift for everyone to save time?” Silence stretched between us. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he started to speak, but a cheerful, sing-song voice cut him off. “Liam, there you are! The professor just posted in the group chat about dinner tonight. You’re the only one who hasn’t RSVP’d!” Ava bounced over, positioning herself right next to him as if she belonged there. Her eyes landed on the bag in his hand. She gasped, covering her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my god, Liam, are you giving those to Chloe? I thought I told you, you don’t give a girl chocolate.” She held up her wrist, showing off a delicate silver chain that caught the sunlight. “Little things like this are so much better. I love mine.” She smiled sweetly. “But hey, if Chloe doesn’t want them, I’m starving. Mind if I take them off your hands?” She was already reaching for the bag, her fingers about to close around it, when Liam jerked his hand back. Ava’s smile faltered. Liam didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on me, his tone stubborn. “They’re for you. Take them.” I took the bag from his hand. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. “I’m sorry,” he started, “I just saw them and thought you might like—” I ignored him and turned to Ava with a bright smile. “You wanted these, right?” Ava’s expression flickered, but she nodded, her smile returning. “Well, if you don’t mind… Of course, if you want them, I would never take your gift.” “Oh, I don’t mind at all.” With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the entire bag into a nearby trash can. Ava froze, her eyes widening as they started to well up with tears. I gestured with my chin toward the garbage. “Since you want them so badly, feel free to go get them. It would be a shame to waste your dear Liam’s thoughtful gift.” Liam took a half-step forward, then stopped himself. He looked at me, and his expression was a complicated mess of confusion, exhaustion, and a deep, profound weariness I’d never seen before. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Do you have to be so damn aggressive all the time?” And in that moment, all I could do was laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Liam could remember Ava’s preferences and see her crocodile tears, but he couldn’t remember a single promise to me or see my own hands clenched so tight my knuckles were white. I took a deep breath. “That box of chocolates was your apology gift. I don’t want it, so I threw it away. Who exactly am I hurting?” Liam just frowned and turned to leave. “We’ll go to dinner when you’ve calmed down.” 3 A full week went by. Liam didn’t call. He didn’t text. He probably thought this was just another one of our usual fights. Me throwing a tantrum, him going silent, and then me, after I’d cooled myself down, coming back to him like nothing had happened. And he was right about one thing. I did go find him. I walked right up to the door of his lab. Several heads turned in my direction, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and speculation. One guy with a loud voice and a friendly face came over. “Hey, can I help you? You looking for someone?” “Liam,” I said. He let out a low whistle. “Damn. Another one. Our boy Liam is in high demand, huh?” He puffed out his chest. “You know, it’s a real mystery. I’m a catch, too. How come no one ever shows up here looking for Leo?” He was annoying. I tried to step around him. “Whoa, hey, don’t go,” he said, blocking my path, his expression turning a little more serious, though the grin never left his eyes. “For real, though, I’m just giving you a friendly heads-up. Liam’s already taken.” He nodded his head in Ava’s direction. “But hey, if you need someone to talk to, I’m way more fun than he is.” Just then, Ava looked up and saw me. Her friendly demeanor vanished, replaced by a guarded, hostile look. She walked over to me. “Chloe. What are you doing here?” I smiled. “Since nobody else seems willing to clear things up, I figured I’d do it myself.” Leo looked confused. “Clear what up?” Ava cut him off, her voice suddenly small and timid. “Leo, can you give us a minute? This is kind of a private thing.” After he shrugged and walked away, Ava looked at me, her eyes pleading. “I told you, I only said those things to get that guy to back off so it wouldn’t mess with my lab work. And… I honestly thought your relationship with Liam was so strong that no one would actually believe it. I guess… I guess I was wrong.” She bit her lower lip. “Maybe… maybe I just got lucky. Or maybe… maybe it’s because you and Liam are never really public about your relationship, so people just filled in the blanks? I mean, if you two were really solid, it wouldn’t matter what anyone else said, right?” Suddenly, a sly, knowing smile curved her lips. “You know, Chloe, I’m actually kind of jealous of you. You’ve been by his side for so long. But… if a relationship is so fragile that a little rumor can shake it, is that kind of company even worth having?” She immediately looked down, her voice getting louder, projecting for an audience. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean it like that. Yell at me if you want. Just please don’t be mad at Liam.” Right on cue, I heard his voice from behind me. “What’s going on?” I didn’t have to turn around to know he was frowning. I looked around the lab, at all the curious faces watching us. I clapped my hands together once, sharply, getting everyone’s attention. Then I held up the small digital voice recorder in my hand. “You know what, Ava? You’re right. I don’t think it is worth it.” I looked straight at her, my smile unwavering. “So let’s make things a little more interesting.” As her eyes widened in horror, I pressed the play button.

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The text confirming my canceled flight popped up just as I was heading to the airport for the graduation trip Chloe and I had been planning for years. As I stood there, dumbfounded, glowing text boxes started to float in front of my eyes. 【Here we go! This is the part where the FMC, feeling bad that the MMC has never been on a plane, cancels the best friend’s ticket and gives it to him. Then the best friend totally loses his mind and they have a huge fight.】 【Even when the best friend buys a train ticket and rushes to meet them, the FMC and MMC have already had a super romantic day together. They’re inseparable, and she barely even notices the best friend is there!】 【Yep, this is the trip that makes the FMC realize how dramatic the best friend is. Every fight they have just makes her see another one of the MMC’s good qualities. Eventually, they drift apart, and the FMC and MMC get their happily ever after. I ship it!】 【OMG, look! The best friend is about to text the FMC! The plot is starting, people! Get your popcorn!】 I was still hesitating, wondering if I should text Chloe to see what was going on, when a message from her lit up my screen. 【Hey Leo, Ethan has never been on a plane before, so I refunded your ticket and gave it to him.】 【You can just buy a train ticket and meet us there. We’ll be waiting for you in Zion!】 When I didn’t reply right away, another one came through. 【Are you mad? I know you’re not used to roughing it. You can be a little sensitive.】 【But Ethan can handle anything. Why is it such a big deal for you?】 I stared at the messages on my phone. The floating text boxes were right. It was all real. I pursed my lips, opened a travel app, and bought a train ticket. Only the destination wasn’t Zion. It was Denver. 1 After changing the cab’s destination to the train station, I put my phone away. 【Uh, weird. Why isn’t the best friend freaking out on her? If he doesn’t cause a scene, how is she supposed to get annoyed with him and see how amazing our MMC is? Ugh, he’s not following the script!】 【Right? Not only is he not fighting, he’s not even texting her back. And he bought a ticket to Denver? He’s totally trying to make her jealous! What a drama king. No wonder she doesn’t like him. Childhood friends means nothing!】 【The best friend is so manipulative. Not like our MMC. Ethan might not have money, but he’s independent and strong. Total main character energy, hehe.】 【This stupid side character needs to get with the program! Doesn’t he know he’s just an NPC? His only purpose is to move the plot forward. If he doesn’t cooperate, how is everyone supposed to see how great our boy Ethan is?】 【OMG you guys, look at the other feed! The main couple just checked in for their flight! In a few hours, their sweet love story officially begins! So excited!】 My hand holding the phone tensed. Ever since Ethan had transferred to our school, I couldn’t count the number of times Chloe had put me second for his sake, always calling me “sensitive” or “spoiled.” She said Ethan was independent and resilient, a real fighter despite his tough background. I, on the other hand, was privileged and didn’t know how good I had it. We’d make plans to see a movie on a Saturday, and she’d bail at the last minute. “Ethan said a single ticket is over fifteen dollars,” she’d text. “That’s like three hours of work at his part-time job. He’s not going.” “You can go by yourself, Leo. I agree with him. We shouldn’t waste our parents’ money.” This, from the girl whose parents had just bought her a fifteen-hundred-dollar laptop. Lunch for two became lunch for three. The steak and salmon I ordered would somehow end up on Ethan’s plate. “Leo, you should eat more salads,” she’d say. “It’s good for you.” I’m six feet tall and a hundred and eighty pounds. I’m not exactly overweight. The list goes on. Eventually, she even bailed on my eighteenth birthday party. I stubbornly waited for her to show up before I would blow out the candles. But eleven o’clock came and went. Then midnight. Not a single text from Chloe. I told myself she must have gotten held up, that something important came up. Then I saw it on someone’s Instagram story: a video of her and Ethan, joyriding late at night, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as they laughed on some empty suburban street. It wasn’t until the next afternoon that she finally texted, saying she completely forgot it was my birthday. Our two-person world had been invaded by Ethan. And now this. This graduation trip was something Chloe and I had promised each other three years ago, back when we were freshmen. Her grades weren’t great, and I was on track for a top-tier magnet school. She begged me, practically in tears, to go to the same public high school as her. I caved. As a thank you, she promised me that when we graduated, we’d go to Zion National Park together. She said that’s where she was going to officially ask me to be her boyfriend. We’d go to the same college, get married after graduation. I believed her. I spent the next three years tutoring her, pulling her grades up until she was getting the same scores as me. But the moment Ethan showed up, it was like I became invisible. It was all about tutoring Ethan, helping Ethan, doing all the things with Ethan that *he’d* never done before. 2 She did well on her SATs, but not quite well enough for the top out-of-state universities. She just assumed I’d stick to our old plan, that I’d stay in-state with her. She didn’t know I’d already accepted my admission to UCLA. Honestly, I regretted giving up that magnet school for her. After being left behind so many times over the past couple of years, I wasn’t the same guy who put Chloe first anymore. My original plan was to tell her on this trip, to let her know that I was moving to California. But she left me behind again. For him. 3 It was Chloe who broke our promise first. 4 Flights to Utah in the summer are a nightmare to book. After Chloe canceled mine, there was no way I was getting another one on short notice. Even the train was sold out. Luckily, I used a booking app and paid a little extra to snag a last-minute ticket to Denver. A private roomette, even. I had just settled in when a text from Chloe came through. 「Leo, you’re taking the train, right?」 「Ethan said the seats are uncomfortable and it takes like two days to get to Zion.」 「But the scenery is incredible! You can’t see this stuff from a plane. You totally lucked out!」 I let out a bitter laugh and put my phone away without replying. After the initial shock of the canceled ticket, I did wonder if I should just scrap the whole trip. But after thinking about it, I decided to go anyway. The decision to see Zion wasn’t just about Chloe. It was a step in a plan I’d made for myself, and I wasn’t going to give it up for her. And stopping in Denver wasn’t so bad. I’d always wanted to see the Rockies. This worked out perfectly. Still, she knew how long and tiring the train ride was. But she went ahead and canceled my ticket without even asking, using my money and my time—not to mention my anxiety about traveling alone for the first time—all to give Ethan his “first flight experience.” Even though I had decided to let her go, there was a dull ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away. The floating text boxes appeared again. 【Hehe, you gotta admit, the side character really does love the FMC. Even after being ditched countless times, he still follows her without a second thought. He doesn’t even care that he has to go to Denver first, tsk tsk!】 【This is great! I was worried the main couple’s romance wouldn’t move as fast without the best friend there as a catalyst, but look at him, he’s following the plot anyway! A little detour, but he’s still chasing after her. Perfect!】 【Seriously though, this guy has no shame. Ditched so many times and he still sticks to her like glue. What a pathetic simp, hahaha!】 I glanced at the comments and then looked away. 5 The roomette was quiet and peaceful. It was more expensive, but watching the landscape transform outside my window, the knot in my stomach slowly started to unwind. The next day, I got off in Denver. I bought a map, circled a few spots I wanted to see, and looked up some travel guides online. It was already late when I arrived, so I booked a hotel near a scenic overlook I wanted to visit in the morning. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I saw Ethan’s new Instagram post. 【Had to give up the last room to a cute couple, so I guess I’m stuck sharing with this one… 😉】 The picture was of their hotel room. He wasn’t aiming the camera at the bed, but you could clearly see Chloe’s reflection in the window, leaning against the pillows on the *one* bed in the room, scrolling on her phone. My hand tightened on my own phone. At the same moment, it buzzed. It was Chloe. 【Where are you? Ethan said the views on the way are amazing, send me some pictures.】 When I didn’t answer, a single【?】followed. I scoffed. I set my alarm for the morning, turned off my phone, and went to sleep. 【Ooh, look at him, playing hard to get. Does he really think ignoring her is going to make her worry?】 【And he’s looking up tourist stuff? Like he’s planning to stay in Denver for a few days? What is wrong with this guy? Doesn’t he know the main couple is waiting for him in Zion? So selfish, only thinking about himself!】 【Yeah, didn’t you see? Chloe was totally distracted when he didn’t text back, she was barely listening to Ethan. Can this side character stop being so extra? Will he die if he doesn’t try to ruin their relationship? Such a jerk!】 【Whatever, let him be dramatic. By the time he gets to Zion, the main couple will have already fallen for each other, hahaha. Let’s see how he feels then!】 【Right? It’s so annoying seeing him all relaxed and happy. The more of a brat he is now, the more heartbroken he’ll be in Zion. Can’t wait.】 【Let him have his fun. We’ll get to see him lose his mind soon enough, lol!】 I ignored the comments and closed my eyes. 6 After a fantastic day exploring Denver, I finally opened my phone to book my next train ticket. There were plenty of options to get to Utah from here. But I didn’t buy a ticket to Utah. I bought one to Flagstaff, Arizona. In the meantime, Chloe had tried calling me since I wasn’t answering her texts. I fumbled my phone and accidentally answered. “Leo? Where are you?” Hearing her voice on the other end, I paused. “What’s up?” I asked, my tone flat. There was a silence on the other end. She must have noticed my coldness. She tried to sound cheerful. “Leo, where are you? I can come pick you up from the station.” “No need,” I said. “You guys have fun.” Predictably, she exploded. “Leo, what is that supposed to mean? ‘You guys have fun’?” “Wasn’t it your dream to come to Zion? I canceled my trip to Florida with my friends to come to this godforsaken desert with you, and now you’re giving me an attitude?” When I still didn’t say anything, her anger seemed to cool slightly. “Leo,” she asked, her voice uncertain, “are you actually mad? Just because I gave Ethan your plane ticket?” Before I could answer, she let out a cold laugh. “Leo, that’s enough! How long are you going to keep this tantrum up?! I already told you, I just wanted to help Ethan fulfill his dream of flying on a plane! You’re really going to hold a grudge over that?! You are so impossible! No one else would ever put up with your terrible attitude!” I listened to the dial tone, and sighed. My terrible attitude? She was the one who abandoned me. I hadn’t even said a single rude thing to her. 【Hahaha, look at the side character, he’s so confused. He really thought she’d keep coddling him, especially with our understanding and kind MMC as a comparison.】 【Acting all high and mighty, deliberately staying in Denver, now going to Arizona! He really thinks he’s that important to her, lmao!】 【Tsk, tsk, doesn’t this guy know when to quit?】 I ignored the floating text and spent three days in Arizona, then took a bus up to the Grand Canyon. The scenery was something I could never have imagined back home in Illinois. The vast, sweeping canyon and the endless sky were breathtaking. I even took a tour to see the ancient petroglyphs. It was absolutely worth the trip. After another three days there, I finally boarded a shuttle bus to Zion. The strange thing was, over the past week and a half, I had barely thought about Chloe. It was like the moment I decided to let her go, she really did fade from my mind. I read an article once that said it only takes twenty-one days to break a habit. I think they were on to something. Even in the quiet of the night, she rarely crossed my mind. After that angry phone call, Chloe hadn’t contacted me again. Her Instagram, however, was a different story. She posted constantly. It was all her and Ethan. They were sharing a room. Making heart shapes with their hands in front of the cliffs. Posing at all the famous trailheads. They even took pictures in matching hiking outfits. Eight posts a day, and every single one was a photo of the two of them. But when I saw them, I felt surprisingly… nothing. In fact, I thought they looked pretty good together. 7 The moment I got a cell signal in Zion, a text from my mom came through. 「Leo, your acceptance letter from UCLA arrived!」 「By the way, Chloe’s mom just called to ask if we wanted to do a joint graduation party. Does Chloe not know you’re going to California?」 I was trying to figure out how to reply when someone slapped me hard on the shoulder. “Leo! It’s really you!” Standing in front of me were Chloe and Ethan. Chloe’s eyes lit up when she saw me, and she started to walk toward me. I gave them both a brief, indifferent glance and headed to the lodge’s front desk to check in. Ethan, seemingly oblivious to my cold shoulder, followed me. “Dude, what took you so long? Zion is awesome! Chloe and I have seen almost everything. Where do you want to go next? I’ll have Chloe take you.” I got my room key and started walking toward the elevators with my suitcase, ignoring him. As I passed Chloe, she grabbed my arm, her grip tight. She was frowning, her face clouded over. “Leo, are you done with your little tantrum? I’ve been deliberately ignoring you for days. Haven’t you figured out what you did wrong yet?” Her voice grew sharper. “What is your problem? Didn’t you hear Ethan talking to you? Or do you think you’re too good for him?” Ethan suddenly looked frightened, waving his hands and trying to defend me. “Chloe, don’t yell! You’re being so mean to him!” Then he looked at me sheepishly. “Leo, don’t get the wrong idea. She’s like this with everyone… except me. She doesn’t have much patience. I know you guys are childhood friends, and I know I can’t compare to you in her heart. I would never try to get in the way of your relationship, I promise!” He reached out to grab my arm again. But as I pulled my arm back, he stumbled backward dramatically, falling to the ground in a heap. “Ethan!” A hard shove sent me staggering. I lost my balance, and my suitcase and I went down with a crash. “Leo! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Chloe shrieked, standing over me. “You’re going to bully him right in front of me?! After he spent all this time worrying about you, wondering when you’d get here? If I’d known you were this toxic, we would’ve left days ago! Who cares what happens to you!” A sharp, fiery pain shot through my knee. I took a deep breath and pushed myself up. When I looked up, Chloe was cradling Ethan in her arms, glaring at me with pure disappointment. “Leo, apologize to Ethan. Right now.” Her voice was ice. “Otherwise, you can forget about us having a joint grad party.” I froze.

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During the press junket, a reporter from *Variety* leaned into her mic. “Mr. Hayes’s new film has some very intimate scenes with his co-star. As his wife, what are your thoughts on that?” I gave her my best media-trained smile. “I think it looks sweet.” The reporter blinked, thrown for a loop. “And you don’t think that will affect your relationship with Mr. Hayes? Especially since he’s famously never taken on romantic roles before.” “It won’t.” “Why is that?” “Because we’re already divorced.” The interview went viral. And my phone blew up. A voice, tight with fury, crackled through the speaker. “What the hell are you talking about, Ava? Since when are we divorced?” I knocked on his hotel room door, divorce papers in hand. “Since right now.” 1 **#EthanHayesAvaReedSplit** **#EthanHayesScarlettMay** **#ScarlettMayHomewrecker** The interview exploded, dominating the top three trending topics on Twitter. My phone was having a seizure from the non-stop calls and texts. I finally switched it to Do Not Disturb and leaned back in the black SUV, trying to breathe. On the tablet next to me, a steamy BTS clip from Ethan’s new movie played on a loop—him and Scarlett May, locked in a kiss so intense it practically melted the camera. My agent, Jen, stared at me, her mouth agape. “You’re divorced? When did this happen?” “He cheated,” I said, my voice flat. Jen instantly understood. She shut off the tablet, and the car fell silent, the only sound my own ragged breathing. She sighed, wanting to comfort me but not knowing how. “Ava, you and Ethan have been together for seven years. Everyone knows you’re Hollywood’s golden couple. Are you sure there isn’t some kind of misunderstanding?” I didn’t answer. I just lowered the tinted window, letting the cold city air rush in to dry the tears threatening to spill over. Last night, I got a text from a trusted source with a photo. Ethan and Scarlett May, checking into a hotel. I’d spent hours sobbing, my body convulsing with a grief so deep it felt like it was tearing me apart. Then, I called my lawyer and had him draw up the papers. It’s precisely because we were together for seven years that the betrayal was so unforgivable. 2 When I arrived at the hotel, I finally answered Ethan’s call. “Ava, what are you doing?” he hissed, his voice a chaotic mix of panic and rage. “When did we get divorced? Why am I finding out about this from a TMZ alert?” He only ever used my full name when he was furious. The last time was when I’d thrown a glass of red wine in Scarlett May’s face. “Right now,” I said, and knocked on his door. It swung open. There he was, phone in hand, our eyes locking. He was shirtless, with only a white hotel towel wrapped around his waist. I could see every cut of his six-pack, the sharp V of his hips, and the faint, fresh scratch marks on his arms. “What are you doing here?” I ignored him, pushing past into the suite and tossing the divorce papers onto the marble coffee table. “Sign them.” Ethan picked them up, glanced through them, and then tossed them onto the couch. He let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his perfectly messy hair. “Is this because of the movie? The scenes with Scarlett? It’s acting, Ava.” He sighed, the picture of exhaustion. “Look, I’m tired. Can you please not be dramatic right now?” “Ethan,” I said, my voice low, “no intimate scenes. That was the deal we made when we got married.” Ethan’s possessiveness was legendary. Any script that came my way with so much as a kiss, he’d either turn it down on my behalf or force the director to rewrite it. Once, during a scene, my co-star got caught up in the moment and improvised a kiss on my cheek. The next day, the actor was replaced. He hasn’t worked since. Ethan Hayes has always been a possessive, controlling monster. But now, for another woman, he had broken his own sacred rule. He gave Scarlett a privilege he’d always denied me. That was all the proof I needed. His expression hardened for a moment before melting back into a practiced smile. He stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my waist and nibbling on my earlobe. “This was a one-time thing. It won’t happen again, okay? As for this divorce nonsense, I don’t want to hear another word about it, understand?” I was about to push him away when a saccharine, girly voice drifted from the other room. “Ethan, honey, I think the shower drain is clogged…” “Oh! Ava! What are you doing here?” Scarlett May stood in the doorway, wearing a silk slip that barely covered her. Her long hair was damp and tousled, and a constellation of fresh hickeys dotted her neck. Noticing my gaze, she nervously tugged at the hem of her slip, a gesture that only made her look guiltier. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink. She bit her lip, the picture of innocence. “Ava, it’s not what it looks like between me and Ethan…” Ethan instinctively reached for the suit jacket on the couch, about to cover her up. I was faster. I whipped out my phone, the camera flash firing several times. “Sign the papers,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “Or these photos go straight to every gossip blog in the country. Let’s see… ‘Hollywood’s Golden Boy Caught in Hotel Tryst with Rising Starlet.’ How does that headline sound?” He let out an irritated hiss. “She got drunk at the wrap party last night. It wasn’t safe for her to go home alone, so I brought her here. Nothing happened.” I ignored his pathetic excuse. “You have three seconds.” “Three.” “Two…” He snatched the papers off the couch, scrawled his signature across the line, and threw them at me. “There. Are you done playing games?” I nodded, picked up my copy, and turned to leave. “Ava,” he called out from behind me, his voice laced with a weary frustration. “You never used to be like this. When did you become so unreasonable?” I froze. It was the exact same thing he’d said the first time I met Scarlett. 3 Scarlett May was the new actress his agency had signed. She bore a passing resemblance to me, which had earned her the nickname “Baby Ava” online. At first, Ethan was indignant about it. He’d hold me and whine, “Baby Ava? My wife is one of a kind. That girl couldn’t hold a candle to a single strand of your hair.” He was always complaining about her riding my coattails. When she copied my style, he called it a cheap knock-off. When she copied my makeup, he called it tacky and pathetic. What he didn’t seem to notice was that he was talking about her more and more. This “unimportant” person was becoming a constant presence in our conversations. Even at dinner, he’d bring her up with feigned disgust. “Scarlett hates cilantro, too,” he’d scoff. “So unoriginal.” But how would he know she hated cilantro if they weren’t eating together? I finally snapped, slamming my fork down. “Are we ever going to have a conversation that doesn’t involve her name? What is it with you, Ethan? Do you have a thing for her or something?” He immediately swore his loyalty, even deleting her number from his phone right in front of me. A few days later, at an industry party, a sleazy producer started pressuring Scarlett to drink with him. In front of everyone, Ethan smashed a bottle over the guy’s head. He ignored me, standing there in shock, and wrapped a protective arm around Scarlett’s shoulders, his face dark with rage. “The talent at my agency,” he snarled, “doesn’t do ‘drinks’.” I went to the restroom to splash cold water on my face. When I came back out, Ethan was standing there with Scarlett, her cheek red and swollen. His voice was sharp. “If you have a problem, you take it up with me. Why did you hit her?” “Ava,” he said, his voice dripping with disappointment, “when did you become so unreasonable?” He didn’t come home that night. After a few days of silence, he showed up with a one-of-a-kind vintage diamond necklace from a London auction house. “Don’t be mad, baby,” he cooed. “Seeing her in that situation… it just reminded me of what happened to you, all those years ago. I lost my head.” He couldn’t protect the me from seven years ago, so he would protect the Scarlett of today. He fastened the necklace around my neck and cleared his schedule to spend time at home with me. I smiled for him, and he thought the chapter was closed. What he didn’t know was that I had found Scarlett’s finsta. It was filled with pictures from the three-day “work trip” they’d taken to Vegas together. 4 The way Ethan and I met feels like a scene from a movie. Back then, I was just another struggling actress in L.A., working as an extra. He was the heir to a hotel empire, defying his family to chase his own Hollywood dream. His parents, determined to teach him a lesson, had cut him off completely and were actively sabotaging his career. I saw him for the first time on a street corner at 2 a.m. I had just wrapped a night shoot and was eating a hot dog from a street cart. I felt a pair of eyes on me, and when I turned, I saw a pair of hungry, glowing green eyes staring back from a dark alley. I bought him a hot dog. We squatted there on the curb together, and he told me he was just another transplant trying to make it in the business. We talked all night, feeling that instant, electric connection of two souls who understood each other. After that, we met at that same spot every night, sharing stories from our miserable days on set. Inevitably, we fell for each other. We moved into a tiny, cramped studio in the Valley. In that room that always smelled like stale takeout and mildew, on that rickety metal bed frame, we loved each other with the desperate intensity of two people with nothing else to hold onto. For three years, we were a team. We had each other’s backs, pulling each other up as we clawed our way through the industry. The night he won his first major award, everything changed. He finally got his parents’ approval, and he finally told me who he really was. I was devastated by the lie. I locked him out of our apartment. To win me back, he stood outside in a torrential downpour all night until he collapsed from a fever and was rushed to the hospital. The first thing he did when he woke up was try to rip out his IV to come find me. My heart melted. He gave me a fairy-tale wedding and went public with our relationship at the peak of his career, giving me everything I could have ever wanted. Everyone called it a Cinderella story. After a while, I think even Ethan started to believe it. He slowly began to forget those three years of struggle, poverty, and pain in that tiny, moldy apartment. 5 Leaving the hotel, I checked my phone. The trending topic about Scarlett being a homewrecker had already been scrubbed from the internet. Ethan had posted a clarification on his Instagram: **[No divorce. The wife is just mad at me. Currently in the doghouse and trying to make it up to her.]** The comments were a flood of praise for what a doting husband he was, but there were plenty of people attacking me, too. 【*Seriously? All this over a movie role? Ava is so possessive it’s actually terrifying. Ethan has been a saint for her on screen for years. Her control issues scream ‘desperate for love.’*】 【*Ava is so embarrassing. She hit the jackpot with a rich, famous husband and she should just be grateful. He has to walk on eggshells just to do his job. You can take the girl out of the gutter, but you can’t take the gutter out of the girl.*】 【*My poor baby Scarlett is just a girl from a small town with a big dream. She gets a chance to act with a top star because she’s talented, and Ava bullies her for it. My heart breaks for her!*】 【*Unpopular opinion but… does anyone else think Scarlett and Ethan have way more chemistry?*】 【*OMG YES! Thank you for saying it! Honestly, if Scarlett does take her place, it’s Ava’s own fault for not being able to keep her man. Useless!*】 Normally, Ethan’s PR team would have deleted comments like these in a second. This time, probably to teach me a lesson, he let them stay. He even “liked” a few of them. Jen was on the phone, trying to get our own team to do damage control. I was too exhausted to care. I fell asleep in the back of the SUV. When I woke up, it was almost midnight. I had dozens of unread messages. As I started to scroll through them, a call from Ethan came in. “Ava, where are you? Why didn’t you come home?” I stayed silent. After a few seconds, I could hear his heavy breathing on the other end. He sighed. “Ava, you don’t really think that piece of paper means we’re actually divorced, do you? I was just playing along with your little game. Now be a good girl and come home.” He was right. Divorcing an heir to the Hayes fortune wasn’t that simple. In his eyes, those papers were meaningless. This whole day had just been him indulging the tantrum of a pet who had dared to show its claws. My voice was steady when I replied. “Ethan, you don’t really think there’s an ‘us’ after this, do you?” The papers might not be legally binding yet, but they were a declaration of war. It was over between us. Even if it got ugly, even if I had to burn everything to the ground, this marriage was ending. He let out a cold, lazy chuckle. “Ava, don’t joke like that. You know what happens when I get angry.” I could hear the rhythmic *tap-tap-tap* of his finger against a desk. He was serious now. I smiled, a real smile this time. “I can’t wait to see.” Before he could respond, I hung up. My reflection in the dark window stared back at me—hair a mess, face pale with exhaustion. This was the last time. The last time I would waste a single second of my life on a broken man and a rotten love. I knew how low and disgusting Ethan could be when he was angry. But I wasn’t afraid. And I would not back down. I would be the one left standing at the end of this. I had to be. 6 Ethan didn’t wait long to make his move. The lead role in a major historical epic I was set to star in was suddenly recast. The new lead? Scarlett May. With Scarlett’s star on the rise and her “brand” being so similar to mine, plus the pressure from Ethan, the director didn’t put up a fight. Ethan showed up on the first day of shooting. As the main investor, no one dared to ignore him. He was immediately surrounded by assistants holding umbrellas, portable fans, and handing him iced coffees. During a break, Scarlett perched cozily next to him, chattering away about her ~acting process~. Ethan just gave her noncommittal grunts, his dark eyes fixed on me across the crowded set. I ignored him, standing under an awning and reviewing my script. My assistant fanned me, whispering, “Isn’t Mr. Hayes here to see you? Why aren’t you sitting with him? You guys aren’t avoiding each other in public now, are you?” There was an empty chair right next to him. She didn’t know the whole story, and just assumed he was there on a surprise set visit. I knew he was offering me an olive branch, a chance to come crawling back. But if he was serious about reconciling, would he be letting Scarlett sit that close to him? Not to mention the fact that he’d stolen my role. Threatening my career was a low blow. Unforgivable. Sensing my irritation, Ethan waved over an assistant. “Scarlett loves that plum juice from the cafe down the street,” he announced loudly. “Get one for the entire cast and crew.” The crew immediately started fawning over them, cooing about how sweet their relationship was. Scarlett blushed prettily. She fluttered her eyelashes and glanced my way. “Oh, you guys, stop. Ava is right there.” Everyone suddenly remembered that the actual wife was present. A mortified silence fell over the set. 7 The atmosphere was thick with tension, and it only got worse when we started shooting the next scene. It was a confrontation where the heroine discovers the supporting female character (my new role) has been sabotaging her, and slaps her across the face. It was supposed to be a major, satisfying moment for the audience, so the slap had to look real and hard. I got into character, my eyes filled with hatred as I looked at Scarlett. “So you know it was me,” I sneered. “What are you going to do about—” Before I could finish my line, Scarlett’s hand cracked across my face. The force of it sent me stumbling back. My cheek immediately started to swell and turn red. Scarlett’s eyes filled with tears as she bit her lip. “Oh my god, Ava, I’m so sorry! Your performance was just so powerful, I got lost in the moment…” The director yelled, “Cut!” My assistant rushed over with an ice pack, glaring at Scarlett. “If you were so ‘in the moment,’ why didn’t you finish the scene?” I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I just covered the redness with some powder and told the director I was ready to go again. Over the next hour, Scarlett either “forgot” her lines, “messed up” her performance, or “improvised” new dialogue, slapping me a grand total of six more times. I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Scarlett just stood to the side, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I know you’re a professional, but I’m still new to this. I just need a few more takes to really get the emotion right. Thank you for being so patient with me.” The director just laughed nervously. In his eyes, I was the investor’s wife, and Scarlett was the investor’s rumored girlfriend. He couldn’t afford to piss off either of us until he knew who the real winner was. “Uh, you know what? Let’s move on to the next scene for now. Maybe we can tweak this one a bit.” But Ethan, who had been silent this whole time, cleared his throat. He caught my eye and raised a single, challenging eyebrow. He was waiting for me to surrender. I looked away from him, back to the director. “Let’s keep going.” The director glanced at Ethan’s thunderous expression. “Well, maybe… maybe we can just fake the slap? Use a different camera angle?” After a few tense seconds of silence, Ethan spoke, his voice dangerously smooth. “No need.” The director breathed a sigh of relief, but then Ethan added, “We don’t need camera tricks. An actress as dedicated as Ms. Reed wouldn’t want to resort to such unprofessional methods.” He had backed me into a corner. I suddenly remembered a rumor I’d heard a few weeks ago—that Scarlett had been “accidentally” slapped by an actress on another set and had cried for hours. Ethan had stormed onto the set, dragged her into the actress’s dressing room, and made her slap the other girl back. He had said something similar to me once. Years ago, a director had slapped me to “get a better reaction.” That night, Ethan had gently pressed a warm cloth to my swollen cheek, his jaw tight with rage. “Don’t worry, Ava,” he’d gritted out. “One day, I’ll help you slap him back.” He did more than that. He not only returned the slap, but he also made sure that director never worked in Hollywood again. The memory was a sharp, painful sting. It was okay, Ava, I told myself. You never needed him to fight your battles for you. It was just a matter of time. Just like now. As Scarlett prepared to slap me yet again, using a forgotten line as her excuse, a new sound cut through the tense silence on set. The sharp, rhythmic *click-clack* of expensive heels on concrete. A cool, drawling voice echoed through the soundstage, dripping with disdain. “Where in God’s name did you find this talentless hack, and why is she pretending to be the lead in my production?”

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My brother and the fifty-something man from next door were in the middle of it when I walked in. My mother completely lost it. She broke a chair over the old man’s groin, permanently ending his fun. And for that, my brother hated me. He drugged me, stuffed me in a sack, and left me at an abandoned construction site to be used and discarded by strangers. I died. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on that same day, right before I opened the door to my brother’s room. This time, I quietly turned the lock. Let them have their fun. 01 “Ugh… Are you sure it won’t hurt? Be gentle… I’ve… I’ve never done this before…” Hearing my brother’s voice from behind the door, I realized I was back. Reborn. In my last life, it was this same sweltering afternoon. I was taking out the trash when I heard strange noises coming from my brother’s room. On a whim, I crept closer. The door wasn’t fully closed. Through the crack, I saw my brother, pinned to the bed by Mr. Henderson from next door. They were in a… complicated position. A rush of blood went to my head. I thought my brother was being assaulted. Mr. Henderson was my dad’s best friend of over twenty years, for god’s sake. I screamed and threw the door open. My mother heard the commotion and came running. The sight made her snap. She grabbed a wooden stool and brought it down on Mr. Henderson, again and again. In a symphony of screams, his future as a man was destroyed. And my nightmare began. My mother blamed me for everything. “If you’d kept a better eye on your brother, this pervert would have never gotten to him!” They pulled me out of school and made me go with my brother to therapy. With professional help, he eventually started showing interest in girls again. Everything seemed to be back on track. But my brother never forgave me. He put something in my drink, stuffed me in a burlap sack, and dumped me at an abandoned construction site. That day, my fingernails were torn from their beds. I heard the sickening crack of my own bones. Fists, cigarette butts, beer bottles… I was a broken doll, torn apart again and again. I died in agony. As my consciousness faded, I saw my brother standing a short distance away, recording it all on his phone. “You bitch,” he sneered. “You ruined my life. You deserve this.” After I died, my mother shed a few tears. Then she sighed. “You were always unlucky, sweetie. I’ve already lost you. I can’t lose your brother, too.” Because I had died a “dirty” death, a disgrace to the family name, I wasn’t even allowed to be buried in the family plot. My mother sold my body for a pittance to be the “ghost bride” for some old bachelor who had died young. She used the money to bribe a third-rate college to accept my brother. “Oh… Mr. Henderson…” “Relax, kiddo. Just let it happen. I promise you’ll love it…” The grotesque sounds from the room pulled me back to the present. I crept forward and quietly, firmly, locked the door. This time, let him have all the fun he wants. 02 The second I walked back in the house, my mother grabbed my ear and twisted, her voice a sharp hiss. “Where the hell have you been, you useless girl? Taking out the trash isn’t an all-day affair! Always looking for a way to slack off!” Her eyes were filled with impatience. “What are you standing there for?” She gave me a hard shove. “Go make dinner! Your brother is a growing boy. If he goes hungry, I’ll skin you alive!” On the couch, my dad sat with his feet up, smoking. As I passed, he blew a cloud of smoke in my face. “Told you girls don’t need an education,” he drawled. “Fills their heads with nonsense. My buddy Rick’s daughter, she dropped out of middle school to work in a factory. Sends her old man three hundred bucks a month, regular as clockwork. Rick just found her a husband, too. Guy paid twenty grand for the dowry!” I tuned him out and went into the kitchen. On the cutting board was a mountain of fiery habanero peppers. My brother loved spicy food. I was severely allergic. Even a drop of the juice would make my skin break out in painful, blistering welts. But in this house, for as long as I could remember, there was never a single dish on the table I could eat. I’d tried to protest once. My mother had just scoffed. “Allergic? You’re just being dramatic. Fine, don’t eat. You’re fat as a pig anyway.” I looked down at my arms. My wrist bones jutted out, sharp and skeletal. I was five-foot-one and weighed ninety pounds. I thought about what I had just seen. Mr. Henderson was a gym teacher, all muscle and sinew. My brother’s frail frame… His first time was probably not going to be a gentle experience. Tearing was a definite possibility. A wicked idea began to bloom in my mind. A slow, cruel smile spread across my face. So, you like it spicy, do you, dear brother? Well, tonight, your big sister is going to treat you. You’ll eat until you’re full, until it hurts, until you never forget it. I turned on the faucet, the water rushing. I pulled on a pair of gloves and grabbed a handful of peppers, three times the usual amount. The sharp, acrid smell filled the kitchen. 03 This time, since they weren’t interrupted, my brother didn’t get home until seven. The whole family was already at the table, waiting for him. He was walking strangely, his legs held stiffly apart, each step a pained, awkward shuffle. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead. The moment my mother saw him, she shot out of her chair, her face a mask of concern. “Honey! What’s wrong? What happened?” “N-nothing…” my brother stammered, waving a weak hand. “I just… I fell.” “You fell?” My mother’s voice shot up an octave. “Where did you fall? Let me see! Is it bad?” She reached for his waistband, ready to inspect him right there. My brother flinched back in horror. The sudden movement clearly sent a jolt of pain through him. He sucked in a sharp breath, the sweat on his forehead beading up. He was mortified, and his voice was practically a shout. “Mom! I’m not a kid anymore! Stop trying to pull my pants down all the time!” My mother froze, then replied, bewildered. “You’ll always be my baby! There isn’t a part of you I haven’t seen! Now let me look, or I’ll worry myself sick!” Trapped, my brother had no choice but to pretend he was fine. “I’m really okay, Mom! It doesn’t hurt anymore!” “Really?” she asked, her eyes still glued to his rear end. “Really! Look!” To prove his point, he clenched his jaw and managed a couple of small, stiff hops. With each landing, his face twitched uncontrollably. He quickly changed the subject. “I’m starving, Mom! Can we eat now?” The word “starving” was the magic password. My mother’s attention immediately shifted. “Yes, yes, of course! We can’t let my baby boy go hungry!” She bustled him to the table and pushed him down onto a hard wooden chair. I watched, impassive, as his body went rigid the moment he made contact with the seat. He subtly shifted his weight, perching precariously on the very edge of the chair, most of his weight supported by his legs. My mother, oblivious, was already piling food onto his plate. “Here, honey, your favorite spicy chicken gizzards! I told your sister to add extra peppers, just for you! And the fried intestines! Eat up! Everything is extra hot and spicy tonight!” My brother stared at the volcanic mound of food on his plate, his hand trembling as he picked up his fork. He slowly, painfully, brought a bite to his mouth. With every swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbed in agony. The sweat never stopped trickling down his face. But the slower he ate, the more my mother piled on. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You don’t like it? Is it where you fell? Does it hurt?” He could only shake his head, forcing out a muffled “I’m fine” before shoveling another fiery mouthful into his mouth. I sat quietly across the table, eating my plain boiled vegetables, hiding my smile behind my bowl. 04 That night, just as I finished the dishes, there was a knock at the door. It was a delivery. Curious, I opened the package. The contents were… educational. A tube of ointment for treating tears and abrasions. A bottle of personal lubricant. And a small, uniquely shaped toy. The note read: “Loosen up. It won’t hurt so much next time.” Mr. Henderson was so thoughtful. I had just put everything back in the bag when my brother shuffled out of his room, clutching his backside. He glared at me. “Emily! Who said you could touch my stuff? Keep your grubby hands to yourself!” He snatched the bag and limped back to his room, slamming the door. I have to say, the ointment worked wonders. The pain subsided quickly. Now, my brother heads next door every day, claiming he’s “working on his core” with Mr. Henderson. My parents, unbelievably, bought it. My mother even started making him special “strengthening” soups when she noticed the faint red marks on his neck. This went on for almost a month before my mother finally got suspicious. Deep in the back of the bathroom cabinet, she found the half-empty bottle of lube and the toy, still sticky with a faint yellowish residue. She exploded. 05 “Emily!” My mother stormed into my room and slapped me across the face. My ears rang, my vision swam. When I could finally focus again, I looked up at her, my eyes stinging. “Mom, what did I do now?” “Don’t play dumb with me!” she shrieked, her body trembling with rage. She threw the items at my face, her disgust absolute. “You disgusting slut! How dare you buy this filth and hide it in my house! Tell me! How many boys have you been with? I knew I should have smothered you in your crib!” Right. My birth. She just had to bring that up. When she was pregnant with me, all the signs pointed to a boy. She was ecstatic. Then I came out, a girl. Her first instinct was to abandon me at the hospital. It was my grandmother who stopped her, claiming a fortune teller had said I was a “brother-bringer,” that having a daughter first would ensure a son would follow to be cared for. That’s the only reason I’m here. And sure enough, a year later, my brother, Evan, was born. From that moment on, my only purpose in life was to take care of him. My mother even made me start school a year late so we would be in the same grade, so I could look after him. I got the highest score in the city on the high school entrance exam, but I had to go to a private school. The principal had promised that if I enrolled, they would accept my brother, despite his abysmal grades. And for that, I was grateful. If I hadn’t been useful in that way, I probably would have been forced to drop out and get a job. I stared at her, my voice hard. “Mom. That’s not mine.” Her face turned purple with rage. She raised her hand to hit me again. “Only girls use this stuff! If it’s not yours, is it mine? You’re still going to lie when the evidence is right here? I’ll beat the truth out of you, you little whore!” This time, I dodged it. Her hand froze in mid-air, her face a picture of shock. It was the first time I had ever defied her. In the past, the slightest hint of rebellion would be met with the threat of being pulled out of school. And for the chance to escape this house one day, I had endured it. For years. But I’ve already died once. What was there left to be afraid of? I met her stunned gaze, my voice steady. “I said it’s not mine. There are other people in this house. Why am I the first one you suspect? And…” I glanced at the items in her hand, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “do you really think I could afford to buy this?” 06 In this house, my brother’s daily allowance was five dollars. Mine was five dollars a month. We weren’t allowed to have leftovers. To save money, I skipped breakfast, chugging water to quell the dizziness from hunger. I used the cheapest, no-name brand tampons, carefully rationing each one. I’d thought about collecting cans after school, but between the endless chores and tutoring my brother, there was barely enough time to sleep. And still, my mother called me an “ungrateful brat.” That lube and toy didn’t look cheap. It would probably take me a year to save up enough to buy them. Her expression shifted. She knew I was right. Her eyes darted around as a new, horrifying thought occurred to her. “That bastard, John!” she snarled. “He’s been bringing his cheap whores into my house! I’ll kill them both!” She stormed into the kitchen. I followed silently. She rummaged through the junk drawer until she found a tube of industrial-strength superglue. She swapped the lube for the glue. Then, she took a habanero pepper from the fridge and meticulously coated the toy, inside and out, a cruel smile on her face. “You wanna mess with my husband, you little tramp? I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” She put the items back in their hiding place. When she turned and saw me, she pointed a finger in my face. “If you breathe a word of this to your father, I’ll rip your tongue out and throw you out on the street! Do you hear me?” I nodded obediently. “Don’t worry, Mom. My lips are sealed.” Oh, dear mother. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re the one who just destroyed your precious son. 07 My brother came back from next door, smelling of sweat and something else I didn’t want to identify. But this time, Mr. Henderson was with him. “Hey, Sarah,” he said to my mom with a folksy grin. “Sorry to bother you so late. My power’s out. The repairman can’t come ’til morning.” My mother was all hospitality. “Don’t be a stranger, David! Evan’s been doing so well since he started training with you. He looks stronger, taller even. You’re staying here tonight! Emily!” she barked at me, “you’re sleeping on the couch. Get your room ready for your uncle.” Before I could say anything, Mr. Henderson jumped in. “Oh no, Sarah, don’t trouble the girl. It’s not right.” He slung an arm around my brother’s shoulders. “I’ll just bunk with Evan. We can talk strategy before bed, right, sport?” My brother’s face turned beet red. “Yeah, Mom,” he mumbled. “Let Uncle David stay with me. Don’t make Sis sleep on the couch.” My mother saw nothing wrong with this. “Alright then! That’s settled. Come on, sit down, dinner’s ready.” She turned and saw me still standing there, and her good mood vanished. She pinched my arm, hard. “Emily! What are you waiting for? Get your uncle a plate!” I bit back a cry of pain and went to the kitchen. When I came back, the scene under the table was… illuminating. Mr. Henderson’s foot was rubbing against my brother’s calf, slowly, inch by inch, making its way up his pant leg. My brother was rigid, his ears bright red, his head bowed low over his plate. Mr. Henderson’s toes finally reached their destination. “Ah!” My brother shot up from his chair. “Honey! What’s wrong?” my mother asked, alarmed. “N-nothing!” he stammered. “Just… just a leg cramp!” Mr. Henderson smoothly retracted his foot. “Don’t worry, Sarah. Probably just overdid it with the core exercises this afternoon. I’ll give him a good stretch and massage in the room later. That’ll fix him right up.” My mother was overjoyed. “Oh, David, you’re too good to him! You take better care of him than I do!” Mr. Henderson shot a meaningful look at my blushing brother. “Well, Sarah, Evan’s like a… son to me. Who else am I going to spoil?” My mother just beamed and put another chicken leg on my brother’s plate. “Eat up, sweetie! You need your strength!” Then she tossed the greasy chicken skin into my bowl. “What are you staring at? Eat! And then go clean up your brother’s room.” I picked up my chopsticks and started eating, a small smile playing on my lips. Tonight was going to be a long night. 08 In the middle of the night, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from my brother’s room.

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We had been secretly married for five years. Her life was a revolving door of tabloid rumors, but she would never, ever publicly acknowledge me. On the set of a late-night talk show, the host playfully asked if I was dating anyone. Even she, my wife, chimed in with a laugh. “Leo, I know so many wonderful, single women. Should I set you up?” In my past life, that was my breaking point. I pulled out my wedding ring and held it up for the cameras. A young, rising star named Dylan Croft, who was also on the panel, burst into tears and ran off stage. My wife, the award-winning actress Claire Sterling, said nothing, but from that day on, she grew colder and colder. When a sudden illness landed me in the hospital, bleeding out and needing emergency surgery, she was at a Michelin-star restaurant, celebrating Dylan’s birthday. When Dylan hired thugs to assault me and I called her, begging for help, she just watched, her expression blank. It was only then that I understood. In her heart, I was nothing more than a dirty secret, a piece of furniture to be kept in the dark. Reborn into this life, I just smiled at the host. “I am, actually. She’s not in the business. We’re getting married at the end of the month.” 1 A collective gasp went through the studio audience. No one had expected me to announce my relationship on live television. Claire’s face darkened. Her hand tightened around her water glass, the plastic crinkling under the pressure. She started to say something, but Dylan, sitting next to her with his boyish charm, jumped in first. “Whoa, Leo, you’ve been holding out on us! If you hadn’t lost that round of ‘Truth or Dare,’ were you just going to keep it a secret forever?” The show was broadcasting live, and Dylan’s comment sent the online chat into a frenzy. 【*Leo Vance’s fans must be devastated! Your man is officially off the market!*】 【*Hehe, at least our Dylan is focused on his career! No time for girls!*】 【*??? Devastated? Leo is an actor. He has a whole shelf of Oscars. He’s allowed to have a personal life. Unlike some people who still haven’t managed to book a decent role.*】 【*Besides, Leo has always said he would settle down when the time was right.*】 I smiled politely. “It might be a secret, but at least I’m not the other woman.” In my past life, I thought Dylan was an innocent victim, that he didn’t know about me and Claire. But just before I died, he had visited me, gloating about how much Claire adored him. He knew from the very beginning. Dylan’s face flickered for a second, but the other guests didn’t notice. They were all leaning forward, curious. “Come on, Leo, who is she? You have to show us a picture!” “She’s not famous? I’m dying to know who could snag Leo Vance!” I shook my head with a small smile. “She’s very private. I’ll introduce you all when the time is right.” Just as I finished speaking, a derisive snort came from Dylan. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with a challenge. “Leo, are you sure this person even exists? Or did you just make her up? I mean, you’re not getting any younger. It would be pretty embarrassing if you were still single at your age. Right, Claire?” He fluttered his eyelashes at her, a cocky, youthful grin on his face. My hand clenched into a fist under the table. To my horror, Claire gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Dylan’s grin widened. A bitter laugh welled up in my throat. For a second there, I had actually hoped for something different. The other guests tried to smooth things over. “Don’t mind Dylan, Leo, he’s just kidding around!” “It’s his personal life, guys, we shouldn’t pry.” I was about to say something, but a woman’s voice cut through from the studio entrance. “Excuse me, is Leo Vance here? I’m here to pick him up.” 2 All heads turned. A young woman was standing just outside the studio doors. She had stylishly tousled dark hair, sharp, intelligent eyes, and a calm, confident air about her. When her eyes met mine, even I was taken aback for a second. She smiled at me. “Leo. Ready to go?” The live chat exploded. 【*OMG OMG IS THAT HIS GIRLFRIEND?! SHE’S GORGEOUS!*】 【*HOLY CRAP, I thought he was making it up! She came to pick him up from work!*】 I stood up and nodded to the other guests. “Well, that’s my cue.” The moment I stood, I felt a pair of eyes burning into my back. I didn’t turn around. Just as I reached the door, Claire’s cold voice stopped me. “Leo.” I paused and looked back at her. “Yes, Claire?” Her face was a mask of displeasure. Dylan chimed in with a saccharine smile. “It’s my birthday party tonight. Claire is throwing it for me. Are you coming?” I glanced at Claire. She said nothing. “No,” I said, turning to leave. “Happy birthday, Dylan. I have other plans.” 3 The feeling of being watched didn’t go away until I was safely in the back of her car. I turned to the woman beside me. “Thank you for that, Maya.” Maya Torres smiled. “No problem, Professor. I was watching the show live. Just happened to be in the neighborhood.” I didn’t press her for more details. She didn’t ask any questions, just said, “Where to? I’ll give you a ride.” I gave her the address of the house I shared with Claire. When we pulled up, she held up her phone. “Hey, can I get your number?” I hesitated for a moment. She laughed. “You never know, I might need a favor from you one day, too.” On that, I nodded and we exchanged numbers. As she drove off, I walked into the house. We had bought it before we got married. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was filled with memories. We used to spend our days off here, playing video games and binge-watching shows. I never wanted to move. But now, Claire was rarely here. The moment I stepped inside, my agent, Ken, called. “Leo, you need to see this. Check Twitter. Now.” 4 **#ClaireSterlingXDylanCroftOfficial** **#HollywoodsNewItCouple** I thought that in this new life, I would be immune. But seeing those words on the screen still felt like a punch to the gut. **[Claire Sterling V: So excited to introduce you all to my boyfriend. The one and only. @DylanCroft]** **[Dylan Croft: Here’s to a long and happy future together, my love. ❤️]** Five years of dating, five years of marriage. Ten years I had waited for her to acknowledge me. And now, she had given it to someone else without a second thought. Ken’s voice was still buzzing in my ear. “There have been rumors for weeks that Dylan was a homewrecker! She’s doing this to protect him! That little bastard *is* a homewrecker! You and Claire have been married for years, she can’t just—” “Ken,” I interrupted, my voice quiet. “How’s that visa application coming along?” He went silent. “Are you sure you want to do this, Leo? Quit the business, move abroad?” I nodded to myself. “I’m sure.” Ten years ago, I gave up my dreams for Claire. I wasn’t going to let her ruin the rest of my life. 5 Claire and I grew up together. My parents died when I was young, and I was a shy, introverted kid living with relatives who didn’t want me. The neighborhood kids used to pick on me relentlessly. Claire was always there, a tiny, fierce protector, fighting my battles for me. When we were fifteen, her parents’ business went bankrupt. They both jumped from a bridge, leaving her orphaned and buried under a mountain of debt. She was devastated, suicidal. I was the one who held her, who told her we would get through it together. We were each other’s lifelines, two broken kids clinging to each other in the dark. When we were eighteen, I was accepted to Juilliard. It was my dream school. The day the letter came, Claire just held my hand, her eyes red, and stood with me in silence all night. The next day, I turned down my acceptance and signed with a talent agent. I was going to pay off her parents’ debt. She was too young, too brilliant to have her future crushed by it. But Hollywood is a brutal place. I worked around the clock, taking any role, any gig I could get. I drank so much at “meetings” with producers that I ended up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. But five years after my debut, a hit TV show finally gave me the break I needed. I paid off every last cent of her family’s debt. People asked me if it was worth it. And at the time, watching Claire cook for me in our tiny apartment, her presence a warm, steady comfort, I thought it was. But now… A notification on my phone pulled me from my thoughts. A call from Claire. I hesitated, then answered. Her voice was cool. “Quite the performance tonight, Leo. Found another woman to play your little games with. Trying to make me jealous? It didn’t work. I know how much you love me.” I stayed silent. In the background, I heard a familiar voice. “Claire, babe, come cut the cake!” “Coming!” she called back, then said to me, “Dylan and I have a new movie coming out, you know that. We’ll ‘break up’ after the press tour is over. Don’t overthink it. Be a good boy and wait for me at home. I’ll bring you back your favorite takeout.” 6 My mind drifted back. Claire had gotten into acting by accident. She had come to visit me on set one day, and a director had spotted her and offered her a role. I had immediately said no. Her dream was to be a research scientist. Acting would derail everything. But she went to the director behind my back. Later, she had held me, her eyes filled with tears. “Leo, I don’t want you to have to struggle for me. I want to make a lot of money so you can have a good life.” And just like that, Claire gave up her dream for me and threw herself into the industry. We saw less and less of each other. The first time a tabloid linked her with a co-star, she flew five hours to see me, held me, and swore it was a misunderstanding, that she would handle it. I suggested we go public with our marriage. She said it would hurt our careers, that the fans wouldn’t understand. Not yet. But she promised me that I was her only husband, her only one. I believed her. I let it go. And then… Dylan Croft appeared. He was the innocent young actor, being harassed by a powerful producer at a party. He ran, fell into a pool, and Claire jumped in and saved him. A beautiful, tragic hero, soaked and shivering in her arms. The next day, they were on the cover of every magazine. This time, Claire didn’t say a word. 7 By the time I came back to myself, Claire had already hung up. I didn’t dwell on it. I called my lawyer and told him to draft the divorce papers. Before I left the country, I was going to sever every tie to her. But that night, she came home. And she brought Dylan with her. He peeked out from behind her, his cheeks flushed, and bounced over to me. “Ta-da! Leo, we brought you leftovers from my birthday party! You have to try the cake!” Claire stood by the door, a look of weary indulgence on her face. “Slow down, Dylan, you’re drunk. You’re going to fall.” She paused, then looked at me. “He had too much to drink. It’s not safe for him to go home alone. He’s staying here tonight.” She added, “Oh, and you make a great hangover cure, don’t you? Go make him a cup.” My ears were ringing. My hands started to tremble. She was cheating on me, and now she was bringing him into our home? And asking me to take care of him? “He has assistants, doesn’t he?!” I snarled. Dylan never went anywhere without a team of at least three people. “He can get a hotel!” Claire frowned. “Leo, when did you become so petty?” My voice shook. “This is my home! Get out!” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, her tone softened. “Okay, Leo. Fine. I’ll call someone to pick him up.” She pulled out her phone, but at that moment, a loud cry echoed through the house. Dylan had tumbled down the stairs. Claire’s face went white. She dropped her phone and ran to him. The calm, elegant actress was gone, replaced by a frantic, terrified woman. “Dylan!” He lay in her arms, his eyes closed. Claire’s face was a mask of fury. She glared at me. A cold dread washed over me. “It wasn’t me…” But her hand was already connecting with my face, the slap echoing in the silent house. “Are you saying he threw himself down the stairs just to frame you, Leo? He’s an actor! You know how much his face means to him!” The blow stunned me. And with it, the last flickering light of hope in my heart was extinguished. She was helping Dylan up, ready to rush him to the hospital, when I stopped her. “Wait.” I held out the divorce agreement. “Sign this. Or you’re not leaving.” She shot me a look of pure hatred. In the past, whenever we fought, I would make her buy me something, make her sign the bill as a way of making up. She must have thought this was another one of my games. Without even looking at it, she scribbled her name across the bottom. Then she carefully helped Dylan out the door. Just before they disappeared, Dylan looked back at me and smirked. 8 The news that Dylan was in the hospital was everywhere. The photos showed him looking pale and fragile, a bandage on his forehead, with Claire by his side, tenderly caring for him. The internet was flooded with posts praising their beautiful, devoted relationship. Ken, who had been my agent since day one and knew everything, was livid. He came over and cursed Claire’s name. “Is the visa ready, Ken?” He nodded. “You can pick it up in three days.” I spent those three days quietly getting my affairs in order. On the third day, another headline exploded online. **#Exposed: Oscar-Winner Leo Vance Stalking Claire Sterling, Attacks Rival Dylan Croft!** The articles were accompanied by two photos. The first was of me, arriving home the night of the incident. The second was of Claire and Dylan, arriving at the same house shortly after. The comments section was a war zone. 【*WTF is going on? Why are all three of them at the same house?*】 【*OMG I have a friend who works in the industry, and he said Leo has been obsessed with Claire for years! He snuck into her house and pushed Dylan down the stairs!*】 【*Why would Leo Vance sneak into Claire Sterling’s house? This is so weird!*】 【*That’s bullshit! Why would Leo need to sneak into anyone’s house?*】 Then, a new comment shot to the top. **[Leo Vance doesn’t have a secret girlfriend! He made it all up! He’s been in love with Claire for years. When she and Dylan went public, he got jealous and attacked Dylan! I have proof! Look at this screenshot! Leo used to be the president of her fan club!]** When Claire was just starting out, she didn’t have many fans. I used to visit her on set, and I even ran her official fan account under a secret identity, creating content and defending her online. It was a secret only she and I knew. And now, here it was, exposed for the world to see. My hand was shaking as I called her. She didn’t pick up until the fifth try. “It was you, wasn’t it?” The photos, the fan club information… it could only have come from her. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, she spoke. “You deserved it, Leo.” “Your comments on the talk show made people think Dylan was a homewrecker. It damaged his reputation. I went public with our relationship to protect him, to fix the mess you made. I thought you would see your mistake. But then you pushed him down the stairs.” I started to laugh, a broken, hollow sound. “So this was all for my own good?” “What is he, if not a homewrecker? An innocent, pure-hearted boy who just happened to charm a famous actress?” “Leo, you are being so childish!” she snapped. “Look, I don’t want this to escalate. Just apologize to Dylan. He’ll publicly forgive you, and we can all move on.” Move on? As if it were that simple. As if she had never been a part of this brutal industry. I was about to say something else, but I heard a voice in the background. “Claire, Dylan is awake. He’s asking for you.” “I’ll be right there,” she said quickly. When I looked at my phone, she had already hung up. 9 As Claire rushed to Dylan’s room, she paused and turned to her assistant. “Did you buy that necklace I asked you about? The one Leo mentioned he liked.” The assistant nodded. “Have it sent to him,” she said. She knew Leo was proud. Forcing him to apologize to Dylan would be a blow to his ego. But he had made a mistake, and he had to face the consequences. Besides, Leo was easy to placate. A little gift always did the trick. “Oh,” she added, “and wasn’t there a matching bracelet? Give that to Dylan.” 10 The necklace arrived while Ken and I were watching Dylan’s live hospital-bed interview. In the video, Claire was gently tucking him in. “Dylan,” a reporter asked, “have you seen the news? Is it true that Leo Vance attacked you?” Dylan put on a brave face. “It’s not Leo’s fault. Claire is an amazing woman. It’s only natural that a lot of men are in love with her…” “So it is true?” the reporter pressed, outraged. “That’s disgusting! He’s no better than a stalker! How can he call himself an Oscar winner?” Dylan just smiled weakly and closed his eyes, looking exhausted. The reporter noticed the watch on his wrist. “Is that the vintage Cartier that was just up for auction? The one that was part of a set with a matching necklace?” Dylan glanced at Claire, and the reporters all understood. “Claire and Dylan’s love is so strong! No one could ever come between them!” Ken couldn’t take it anymore. He started cursing at the screen. He threw Claire’s assistant, and the necklace, out of my house. The production company I was signed with wasn’t going to take this lying down. I lived in that house. The security guards had seen me come and go every day for years. They released a statement, along with stills from the security footage. **[This house is Mr. Vance’s primary residence. He is seen here on a daily basis. Ms. Sterling, however, is rarely seen on the premises.]** **[Two photos of three people entering the same house is not proof of an attack. We urge the public not to jump to conclusions.]** The tide of public opinion started to turn. But then, Claire posted again. **[It appears Mr. Vance has been using my absence to secretly enter and case my home.]** The post was accompanied by a photo of the deed to the house. 11 I felt the blood rush to my head. Before I had paid off her family’s debt, we had lived in a tiny, cramped apartment. After, to make sure she felt secure, I had bought this house and put it in her name. “Leo,” she had said at the time, smiling, “you don’t have to do that. I trust you. I trust us.” And now, that trust was a knife she was twisting in my back. Ken exploded. “The marriage license! Show them the marriage license, Leo!” “She has it,” I said quietly. All of our important documents were kept by her. The day we got married, she was so happy, she had kissed the license over and over, saying she was going to have them framed and preserved forever. Ken was silent for a long time. “Leo,” he finally asked, “were you two really together for ten years?” A bitter smile touched my lips. My phone buzzed with a text. **[Need some help?]** It was from Maya. **[Thanks, but I’m okay.]** I turned off my phone and handed Ken a USB drive. “Ken,” I said. “Leak this.”

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