1 My boss, James Astor, had a ghost. A year after his one true love died, he brought home her replacement. And the replacement was… paranoid. All I did was meet James’s eyes across the dinner table. “I saw that!” she hissed later. “The way you and James were making eyes at each other! I knew you were trouble.” I just stared at her. 2 Everyone in New York’s elite circles knew that its crown prince, James Astor, was haunted by the ghost of a love lost. Her name was Aurora Leigh. Plenty had tried to fill the void, sending him women—and men—who bore a passing resemblance to her. All of them had failed. Until today. Today, James brought home a girl who was a seven-tenths copy of the original. When he walked in, Alfred, the butler, and I were already at the dining table, waiting. The moment we saw the face—so eerily similar to the one we’d lost—we both froze. Our eyes met Leo’s, James’s special assistant, who was trailing a step behind. Leo gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug. James sat down at the head of the long rectangular table without a word. Alfred and Leo took their usual spots to his left. To his right, there was an empty chair, and then me. The woman moved instinctively to sit in the empty chair beside James. Faster than thinking, I grabbed the vase of white lilies from the center of the table and placed it on the chair. “This seat is taken.” Her eyes slid to me, a tight, forced smile on her lips. “Oh? By whom?” I placed a hand over my heart. “In memory,” I said, my voice perfectly serious. She turned, her face crumpling into a mask of wounded innocence for James’s benefit. James stared at the empty chair for a long, silent moment before finally looking away. “Let her sit there, Evelyn.” The woman shot me a look of pure triumph. I could feel my face burning. It was James himself who had decreed that no one was ever to sit in that chair. And now he was breaking his own rule, leaving me to look like a fool. Seeing I had no intention of moving the vase, the woman snatched it herself and unceremoniously dumped it on the floor. My head snapped up. Alfred’s did too. Leo’s. We all stared at James. He glanced at the discarded flowers, his expression unreadable, and then looked away as if nothing had happened. Once seated, the woman smoothed her hair. “Hello,” she said. “My name is Bella.” Alfred summoned his most professional, formulaic smile. “A pleasure, Miss Bella. I am the Astor family’s butler.” The two of them exchanged pleasantries, their voices echoing in the strained silence. I was still recovering from my own mortification. I could feel Bella’s eyes on me, but I refused to look at her. “You must be Dr. Reed,” she said, her voice saccharine. “I hear you’ve been Mr. Astor’s private physician for five years.” I thought for a moment, then gave a curt nod. After dinner, James left the table. He was at the elevator when he seemed to remember something. “Alfred, arrange a room for her on the first floor.” Before Alfred could respond, Bella rushed forward. “James, aren’t I staying with you?” James didn’t answer. The elevator doors slid shut, and he was gone. Bella bit her lip, her eyes flashing with frustration. I caught Alfred’s eye, and Leo’s. All three of us were fighting back a smile. But for some reason, Bella’s anger zeroed in on me. “Dr. Reed, are you laughing at me?” “No,” I said, not bothering to make it sound convincing. Her voice rose, becoming shrill. “Yes, you were!” “Think whatever you like.” “Hmph!” She tilted her chin up. “I’ve heard the rumors about the three of you and James, but now that I’m here…” Rumors? That was three years ago. Was this her attempt at putting us in our place? Alfred waited for her to finish. “Miss Bella, if you’ve heard rumors from three years ago, then surely you’ve also heard about Miss Leigh.” “So what if I have?” Bella snapped. “How can a dead woman compete with the living?” The three of us exchanged a look. Wasn’t a dead love the most impossible rival of all? But Bella had her own logic. “The dead are forgotten, sooner or later. But you three, you’re with him every day. It’s only natural that feelings might develop.” She was supposedly addressing all of us, but her glare was fixed solely on me. Alfred was losing his patience. “You’re overthinking things, Miss Bella. The staff quarters are to the left on the first floor. You may choose any of the guest rooms to the right.” “Aren’t you going to help me choose?” she demanded. Alfred picked up his chopsticks again. “I haven’t finished my dinner.” The three of us immediately buried our heads in our food, ignoring Bella completely. After a few minutes of pointed silence, she huffed off and disappeared into a room. 3 Once she was gone, Leo let out a sigh of relief. “It’s been three years since Miss Leigh passed. How can anyone still think there’s something going on between us and the boss?” Miss Leigh—Aurora. James’s lost love. As for the rumors… a young butler, a handsome assistant, and a young, beautiful doctor, all living in the Astor penthouse. We were a constant presence. Leo usually accompanied James to public functions, but when they both had too much to drink, Alfred or I, or both of us, would have to go and retrieve them. The gossip started itself. But all of that had died the moment Aurora Leigh entered the picture. The three of us just shook our heads. “Where did he even find her?” Alfred wondered aloud. “She looks so much like Miss Leigh. Is he really trying the whole replacement thing?” Leo, who would know best, shook his head. “She’s an intern. Hasn’t even been with the company a week.” He paused, thinking. “I just don’t see Mr. Astor as the type to find a substitute.” “But he let her sit in Aurora’s chair,” Alfred pointed out. “And he didn’t even flinch when she put Aurora’s favorite flowers on the floor.” We fell into a contemplative silence. 4 Bella settled into the Astor residence and never went back to the office. Her new full-time job was fawning over James. And James, to our astonishment, seemed to welcome it. He even started working from home. He had never been particularly gentle with Aurora; he’d even been known to shout at her when his temper flared. But with Bella, he was a different person, almost unbelievably tender. Bella casually mentioned that some of her clothes were pilling. The next day, the entire new season’s collection from a dozen designers arrived. Her first-floor suite’s walk-in closet was filled to bursting. She decided she wanted to cook for him and promptly cut her finger. James took my medical kit, personally bandaged her wound with painstaking care, and forbade her from ever setting foot in the kitchen again. Bella beamed. She tried to pick up Mango, and the cat scratched her. James ordered me to keep Mango locked in my room from now on. I stood there, holding the fluffy orange cat, utterly stunned as I watched them walk away together. “What did he just say?” I asked the empty air. Alfred adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. “He said to keep Mango in your room.” Mango was Aurora’s cat. James’s own brother was severely allergic, and even then, James had refused to lock Mango away, opting instead to take his brother out for dinner. And now he was banishing the cat to my room? Alfred stroked Mango’s head, and the cat purred, rubbing against his hand. “It’s probably for the best. The way he’s treating Miss Bella, who knows what will happen the next time Mango scratches her. He might get rid of him altogether.” He had a point. 5 I was in the small rooftop garden, watering the flowers, when I saw Bella clinging to James’s arm. “James, darling,” she cooed. “I love roses. Can we plant some roses here? Please?” Their relationship was progressing at lightning speed. She was already calling him ‘darling.’ But roses? James would never… “Alright,” James said. And just like that, he called for Alfred and told him to procure the finest rose bushes available. My jaw dropped. Was this for real? This garden was almost entirely filled with lilies, which Aurora had planted and tended to herself. He was going to replace them with roses? James left to handle some business, but not before giving me a strange, flickering glance. I was still trying to process it when Bella suddenly loomed over me. I was sitting on a bench, and from my angle, all I could see was her chin. “See? I told you the dead are easily forgotten.” Her voice was smug, but it quickly sharpened into an accusation. “And I saw you just now. You and James were making eyes at each other! I knew you were trouble!” I stood up. I was slightly taller than her. She took a wary step back. It was dusk, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. In this light, if her face were just a little thinner, she would have been the spitting image of Aurora. But their personalities were night and day. My eyes fell to her neck, where the high collar of her sheath dress seemed to be digging into her skin. “Is that dress comfortable?” I asked. “Of course it is!” she snapped. “Good to know,” I said, and turned to go back inside. It was time for dinner. Alfred was efficient. The roses were planted the very next day. I raised an eyebrow at the result. Bella wasn’t pleased. “James, can’t we plant more?” Aurora’s patch of lilies remained untouched. The roses had been planted in a small, adjacent plot. Compared to the sea of lilies, the roses looked sparse, but they were undeniably more eye-catching. James was watering the lilies, gently tending to their petals. “This is fine for now,” he said. 6 A major acquisition was underway at the company, which meant James was swamped with meetings. He barely came home, even for lunch. We only saw him in the evenings. As I was coming back from the garden, I saw Bella cornering the chef by the service entrance. He was holding bags of fresh groceries, clearly just back from the market. “Does James like cake?” she was asking. Cake? Oh, right. James’s birthday was coming up. The chef looked deeply uncomfortable. It was a loaded question. When he saw me, his face lit up with relief. I gestured for him to head to the kitchen. Bella glared at me. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Miss Leigh once made a cake for Mr. Astor,” I said flatly. “He didn’t eat it.” He’d done more than not eat it. He’d thrown it in the trash. Bella scoffed. “That was her. He’ll eat it if I make it.” She marched into the kitchen, full of misplaced confidence. I saw the same pained expression on the chef’s face that he’d worn when Aurora had asked for baking lessons. It was almost comical. “What’s going on?” Alfred asked, peering over my shoulder. “She’s making a cake.” We watched for a moment. “To be fair,” we agreed, “she seems to have more talent for it than Miss Leigh did.” Before James got home, Bella commanded us not to say a word about the cake until his birthday. We readily agreed. 7 James’s birthday arrived. Bella’s cake was, admittedly, a masterpiece. She admired her own handiwork with a satisfied smile. “Mr. Astor isn’t a huge fan of cake,” I offered, a small act of kindness. “Don’t be too upset if he doesn’t eat it.” “I made it,” she said confidently. “He’ll eat it.” Well, good luck to her. When James arrived home, Bella launched into a breathless rendition of “Happy Birthday” and presented him with a gift. When she brought out the cake, his expression faltered for a fraction of a second. She placed her hand over his, guided the knife to cut the first slice, and held a forkful to his lips. James looked at her, and then, slowly, he opened his mouth. I stared. Alfred stared. Leo stared. We were in a state of collective shock. He only took one bite, but in life, context is everything. He had thrown Aurora’s cake away. While we were still reeling, James, holding the gift box Bella had given him, glanced over at us. “Where are my presents?” We scrambled to hand them over. I’d chosen an earring for him—a subtle nod to a rebellious phase in his youth. The box was small. As I placed it in his palm, his fingers closed around it, and for a moment, it felt like he was holding my hand. I looked up and met Bella’s murderous gaze. Great. 8 James’s indulgence had given Bella a sense of entitlement that was growing by the day. After someone let it slip that James had eaten her cake after rejecting Aurora’s, she became utterly insufferable. With Leo at the office with James all day, it was often just Bella, Alfred, and me in the penthouse. And she seemed convinced that something was going on between James and me. She was constantly looking for ways to torment me. “Evelyn! The floor is dirty. Mop it.” I was sprawled on the sofa. “Miss Bella, I’m a doctor. That’s not my job.” “James is never sick!” she snapped. “Are you just here to collect a paycheck for doing nothing?” “Pretty much,” I agreed. As a doctor, my current job was a sinecure. When Aurora was alive, her fragile health was a full-time concern. My primary duty was managing her condition. James, under my strict orders, hadn’t dared to touch her. Now, Bella was as healthy as a horse, and since James wasn’t touching her either, my medical skills were entirely superfluous. Alfred adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Astor signs our paychecks, Miss Bella. And there are professional cleaners who handle the household chores. You needn’t concern yourself.” As if on cue, a housekeeper appeared with a mop. Bella was determined to make me do something. “I’m craving macarons from La Belle Pâtisserie. Go buy me some.” “You know you can have them delivered, right?” “I don’t want them delivered! I want you to go get them!” After years of working together, Alfred was protective of me. “Miss Bella…” “Fine, fine, I’ll go,” I sighed. Of course, I had no intention of actually going. I’d take a walk, enjoy the afternoon, and come back and say they were sold out. Alfred stood up. “I’ll go with you.” Once we were out, he readily agreed to my plan. We ended up at the mall. While I was waiting for Alfred to use the restroom, a display of sheath dresses in a boutique window caught my eye. One of them was very similar to a dress Aurora used to wear. “You’ve never worn a dress like that,” Alfred remarked, having returned. He looked me up and down. “I think it would suit you.” I shook my head. “Not my style.” They were too restrictive. As we were about to head back, I saw a familiar black car flash by on the street below. “What is it?” “I’m not sure,” I said. “I think I just saw Mr. Astor’s car.” Alfred followed my gaze, but it was already gone. 9 When we got back to the penthouse, Bella was in the middle of tattling to James. “James, darling! Dr. Reed and Alfred were so disrespectful to me!” Leo shot us a sympathetic look. When Bella saw we were empty-handed, she pounced. “They promised to get me macarons! I’ve been craving them all day!” James’s gaze fell on us, dark and unreadable. “My apologies, Miss Bella,” Alfred said smoothly. “They were sold out.” “Really?” she challenged. “La Belle is a thirty-minute walk from here at most. An hour round trip. You’ve been gone for three hours!” Alfred and I bowed our heads in mock penitence. “If it’s that close,” a low voice cut in, “why didn’t you go yourself?” We both peeked up. The words had come from James. Bella’s mouth opened and closed. Her beautiful eyes filled with tears of disbelief. “They have their own duties,” James continued, his voice calm but firm. “They are not your errand runners.” My own guilt pricked at me a little. The words weren’t harsh, but for Bella, who had been coddled and protected for weeks, they were a devastating blow. She burst into tears and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. I glanced at the clock. Dinner time. “Where did you two go this afternoon?” James asked quietly. “Just for a walk,” Alfred replied. After a moment of silence, James stood up. “Let’s eat.” Alfred went to the kitchen to bring out the food, and Leo dutifully went to coax Bella out of her room. For a moment, it was just James and me at the table. “I am your only employer,” he said, not looking at me. “You don’t have to listen to her.” I nodded. I hadn’t been. “Next time,” he added, “you can come to me.” I nodded again, a flicker of unease running through me. That sounded… a little too intimate. Leo returned with a report. “Mr. Astor, Miss Bella says she’s not eating.” James thought for a moment, then looked at me. “Prepare a tray for her.” I nodded. It was a familiar routine. Whenever Aurora refused to eat, I was the one who would take a tray to her room. But as I was about to pick up the tray I’d prepared, James took it from me. “I’ll do it,” he said. “You two go ahead and eat.” As I ate, I kept glancing toward her room. He knocked, but Bella wouldn’t open the door. I saw him take out a key.

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1 On my wedding day, the charity case my fiancée sponsored crashed in, bloodied and weeping. “Claire, don’t! He’ll destroy your family!” Furious, I demanded, “Jack, what nonsense is this?” “I’ve been reborn—I know the truth!” he pleaded. “He and his parents planned the accident that killed your parents! Search his house now!” Claire gave me an icy look and made the call. Her men found a detailed plan to seize her family’s fortune and eliminate her parents. Enraged, she slapped me repeatedly, then had her security break my legs. “You heartless monster,” she hissed. The wedding was canceled. Within a month, my family’s company was bankrupt, and my depressed parents died. Claire tortured me to death, hanging my body from a helicopter. When I reopened my eyes, I was back to the day Claire brought Jack home to work at our company. … My eyes flew open, a cold sweat drenching my back. It wasn’t until I heard Claire’s clear, bright voice beside me that I realized the impossible had happened. I had been reborn. “Ethan, what do you think about making Jack my new executive assistant? His grades were fantastic, and he won a ton of scholarships.” Jack sat across from us, a harmless, almost cherubic smile on his face. My fingers dug so deep into my palms that my nails drew blood. In my last life, that very smile had been the prelude to the complete annihilation of my world. “Ethan? Are you alright? You look pale,” Claire asked, her voice laced with concern as she gently touched my forehead. I forced down the tidal wave of hatred rising in my throat and managed a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night.” I extended a hand toward Jack. “Hello. I’m Ethan Rhodes, Claire’s fiancé.” Jack took my hand, his grip surprisingly firm. He gave me a shy, unassuming grin. “It’s an honor, Mr. Rhodes. You’re just as impressive as Claire always says.” My blood ran cold. In my past life, his first words to me were, “I’ve heard so much about you.” “Have we met?” I asked, pulling my hand back with practiced ease. “Only through Claire’s stories,” Jack answered smoothly, his smile never wavering. I didn’t press him. After a few more minutes of small talk, I pulled Claire aside. “Are you sure about this? He’s fresh out of college, no real-world experience.” Claire’s brow furrowed slightly. “Jack was president of the student union. He’s brilliant. I’m sure he can handle it.” “Alright,” I said after a moment’s pause, feigning concession. “Let’s bring him on as my intern assistant first. It’ll keep the office gossip to a minimum.” Her eyes lit up. “Really? Oh, I knew you’d come around!” She looped her arm through Jack’s affectionately. “Jack, what do you say? Go on, thank Ethan.” As Jack bowed his head in gratitude, I caught the fleeting, triumphant smirk that ghosted across his lips. Claire turned back to him, her tone softening. “By the way, Jack, have you found a place to live yet?” Jack looked down, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. “Not yet, Claire. I… haven’t found anything suitable.” “Well, that settles it,” she declared with a cheerful clap of her hands. “You’ll stay with us! The guest wing is empty, and you can ride to work with Ethan every day. It’s perfect.” My fists clenched at my sides, my knuckles turning white. That was it. That was the decision that, last time, gave him the key to my home, the opportunity to plant the fabricated ‘murder plot’ and frame me. “Claire,” I said, my voice carefully neutral, “he just got here. Wouldn’t it be a little awkward having him stay with us? I can arrange a corporate apartment for him near the office.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, Ethan, don’t be so formal. Jack’s like a little brother to me. It’ll be nice to have him around.” Right on cue, Jack beamed with gratitude. “Thank you, Claire. I promise I won’t be any trouble.” The next morning, Jack was already waiting in the garage when I came down. I tossed him the car keys. “Can you drive?” He fumbled with the keys, a look of distress on his face. “Mr. Rhodes, I… I don’t have my license. I keep failing the practical exam.” I stared at him, a wave of dark humor washing over me. Two lifetimes, and the man still couldn’t pass a simple driving test. How in God’s name did I let myself be destroyed by this person? Claire plucked the keys from Jack’s hand and pressed them back into mine. “Honestly, Ethan. Jack’s been so focused on his studies, when would he have had time to get a license? Besides, you’re perfectly capable of driving.” With that, she ushered a grateful Jack into the back seat. I didn’t argue. Once we got to the office, I walked Jack through his responsibilities. “So, the workflow is pretty straightforward. If you have any questions…” “Don’t you worry, Mr. Rhodes,” Jack interrupted, a confident smile spreading across his face. “I’m very familiar with the work.” Familiar? My eyes narrowed. After dismissing him, I called in a few of my most trusted team members and instructed them to watch Jack’s every move. I was going to find out if he really was this so-called ‘reincarnator’. Just like in my past life, Jack assimilated into the office culture within days. He was charming, efficient, and surprisingly adept at his job. Claire was practically glowing with pride. “See? What did I tell you? My judgment is better than yours, isn’t it?” I had to admit, with Jack handling the minutiae, my workload did lighten considerably. But that only made me more vigilant. “Mr. Rhodes,” Jack said, stepping into my office one afternoon. “There’s a venture capital negotiation next Monday that you and Ms. Fairchild need to attend. Also, Sunday is her birthday. I overheard her mentioning she was craving cake the other day.” My hand froze, the pen hovering over a contract. My fingertips began to tremble. This was it. This was the moment it all started to unravel last time. Claire was severely allergic to mangoes. On her birthday, Jack had secretly told her that the cake I’d bought was a mango cake, a deliberate attempt to put her in the hospital so she’d miss the negotiation. Aura Innovations was a company Claire and I had built from the ground up, a testament to our ambition outside our family legacies. Jack exploited that, twisting the narrative to make it seem like I was trying to sideline her, planting the first seeds of distrust between us. I looked up at Jack’s smiling face and nodded slowly. “Right. Thanks for the reminder. You can go.” On Sunday morning, I drove to La Belle Pâtisserie, the high-end bakery Claire loved. “The usual, Mr. Rhodes?” the owner greeted me warmly. “Strawberry cream with a vanilla bean filling?” “That’s the one,” I confirmed, sliding an ornate gift box across the counter. “But I need you to use this box for it.” As I left the shop, I made a call. “Keep a close eye on Jack. I want a report of his every move.” At three in the afternoon, my phone buzzed with a message and a photo from my surveillance team: [Jack just went to ‘The Sweet Haven’ bakery on the west side. He’s carrying a cake box.] Moments later, a text from Jack himself arrived: [Mr. Rhodes, I’ve already picked up the cake and brought it home, so you don’t have to make the trip.] A cold smile touched my lips. So this was the master plan of a ‘reincarnator’? That evening, our villa was ablaze with lights and filled with guests. I placed the cake on the crystal table in the center of the grand hall. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack watching the box, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. He thought he had already won. “Happy birthday, Claire,” I said, offering her the cake knife with a smile. Just as she was about to make the first cut, Jack lunged forward. “Claire, wait!” The entire party turned to look at him. His face was a mask of worry. “The cake Ethan bought… it isn’t a mango cake, is it?” Claire laughed lightly. “Of course not. Ethan knows I’m allergic to mangoes.” I feigned surprise. “Jack, what are you talking about? Why on earth would I buy a mango cake when Claire is allergic?” He shook his head, his voice firm with conviction. “Mr. Rhodes, I know you’ve been wanting more control over the company, but you can’t play with Claire’s life like this!” A flicker of doubt crossed Claire’s face. Her hand trembled slightly. I sighed dramatically and lifted the lid of the box. Inside sat a beautiful strawberry cream cake, perfectly intact. “Jack, are you sure you’re feeling alright?” I asked, my voice calm but my gaze sharp. The color drained from Jack’s face. His lips quivered. “No… that’s impossible… I saw…” “You saw what?” I took a step closer. “You seem awfully certain I was going to buy a mango cake.” Claire frowned. “Jack, maybe you’ve been working too hard lately.” He shook his head frantically. “Claire, I… I was just worried about you!” I let out a cold laugh and took out my phone. I played a security video on the large screen in the hall. The footage showed Jack sneaking into ‘The Sweet Haven’ bakery and placing a cake box in the trunk of his car. “I spoke with the staff. It was you who picked up a mango cake from their shop this afternoon,” I said, my voice dropping to an icy tone as I held up the text message he’d sent me. “The evidence is all right here. So tell me, Jack, who is really trying to harm Claire?” Claire’s expression hardened. A wave of shocked murmurs rippled through the crowd of guests. “Oh, Ethan,” Jack sighed then, shaking his head with a look of profound disappointment. “I really did give you a chance.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. “I took that cake to St. Jude’s Home for Children,” Jack said, pulling out his phone to show a series of photos of himself sharing a mango cake with smiling orphans. Then his eyes locked onto mine. “And Ethan… are you absolutely sure the filling in your cake is vanilla?” At his words, Claire snatched the cake knife and sliced straight down through the center of the cake. Beneath the layer of pristine vanilla cream, a thick, bright yellow spread of mango puree was revealed. “That’s not possible!” I shot to my feet. Jack’s face was a portrait of heartbreak. “Claire… even after I knew his plan and tried to switch the cakes to a safe one… I can’t believe he still managed to…” Claire’s face was a storm of fury and betrayal. Her hand flew up and cracked across my face with a resounding slap. “Ethan Rhodes! How could you?! If it wasn’t for Jack, I could be…!” Her voice broke. “I think we need to seriously reconsider our relationship!” I stood there, stunned into silence. How was this possible? The accusations erupted from all corners of the room. “A grown man resorting to such pathetic tricks! Has he no shame?” “He looks so polished on the outside, but inside he’s just rotten!” “How did Claire ever get involved with a man like that?” … Late that night, I was in my study, furiously rewatching the surveillance footage. Finally, in a tiny, almost unnoticeable corner of the screen, I saw it: Jack exchanging a discreet handshake and an envelope with the very man I had hired to watch him. He had been bought. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. Could it be? Was Jack actually a reincarnator? But if that was true… then why could he anticipate my every move when I, too, had been reborn? Over the next month, the chasm between Claire and me grew wider. We were rarely seen in the same room. In the executive boardroom, the beam of the projector cut a sharp blue line through the dim light. I stood before the screen, pointing to the latest market analysis. “The renewable energy storage project. The technology is 90% mature, with a projected ROI of 238%. We could monopolize the market within three years.” The board members murmured amongst themselves, many of them nodding in approval. Suddenly, Jack cleared his throat, a hesitant look on his face. All eyes turned to him. Claire frowned. “Jack, do you have something to add?” He stood, his expression grave. “Ms. Fairchild, I know it’s not my place to speak in a meeting like this, but I have to say something. This project… it’s a complete and utter fraud.” The room fell silent. Jack produced a file. “According to my investigation, three months from now, the project’s core technology team will walk out en masse. The patent will be declared invalid.” He looked at Claire, his voice heavy. “If we invest, our losses will be… at least two billion dollars.” Claire’s fingers tapped restlessly on the mahogany table, a nervous habit of hers. “Ethan,” she said, her gaze shifting to me. “Did you run a risk assessment on this?” I calmly opened my laptop. “The entire tech team has signed five-year non-compete agreements. The patent has been registered in thirty-seven countries.” I pulled up another notarized document. “And this is their patent guarantee. The penalty for breach of contract is three times our investment.” Jack interjected sharply. “Mr. Rhodes, how can you be sure those documents aren’t forgeries?” “Jack! Remember your place!” I snapped. Claire’s eyes darted between the two of us. I initiated a video call. The project lead’s face appeared on the screen. “Ms. Fairchild, I can demonstrate the stability of the core technology for you right now…” “That won’t be necessary,” Claire said, raising a hand to cut him off. Her voice was flat. “This project is on hold indefinitely.” I stared at her, the anger finally boiling over. “Why?!” “There is no ‘why’,” she returned, her voice devoid of emotion. “Claire…” “Enough!” She shot me a withering glare before turning to Jack. “The overseas acquisition you mentioned before. How are the preparations coming along?” A smile bloomed on Jack’s face as he instantly produced a new proposal. “The Singapore logistics venture. The ROI is only 35%, but it’s a rock-solid investment.” “Good.” “Thank you for your trust, Ms. Fairchild,” Jack said, his eyes flicking to me, his smile widening. I sank back into my chair, silent. That night, I secretly registered an offshore company: Keystone Capital. Through a three-tiered structure of shell corporations, no one could trace it back to me. The next day, under the banner of Keystone Capital, I made the first investment into the renewable energy project. At the same time, Aura Innovations began funneling millions into the Singapore project Jack had recommended. In Claire’s office, Jack handed her a stack of papers. “Claire, take a look at this. It’s just as I suspected. Ethan has changed.” Claire’s face tightened as she read the name. “Keystone Capital?” Jack pointed to a record of emails. “Exactly. It’s a new firm that just surfaced. They’ve invested in the same renewable energy project Ethan was pushing. And look at these emails… it appears Mr. Rhodes has been secretly transferring our company’s proprietary tech data to them.” Her fingers curled into a fist. “Can you trace who’s behind Keystone?” Jack shook his head. “They’ve hidden it well. It’ll take time. But there’s no doubt Mr. Rhodes is involved.” “This can’t be happening…” Claire slammed her fist on the desk. “I know you don’t want to believe it,” Jack sighed, “but the facts are the facts.” A week later, Jack turned his laptop screen toward Claire. “Claire, I found it. Look at the ownership structure for Keystone Capital…” On the screen, a complex web of offshore entities ultimately led to a single name: Ethan Rhodes. Her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. Her voice was a choked whisper. “It really is him.” Jack sighed again, the picture of sorrowful duty. “Claire, the proof is right in front of you. I’m afraid Mr. Rhodes has been planning his exit strategy for a while. Once the Singapore deal bankrupts Aura, he can use Keystone Capital to buy up our core assets for pennies on the dollar.” Claire shot to her feet. “I’m going to ask him myself.” She threw open the door to my office, her eyes as cold as a winter storm. I looked up from my work. “Claire?” She didn’t speak. She just threw the ownership documents onto my desk. “Explain this.” I glanced down, paused for a moment, then met her gaze. “I registered it.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped her lips. “At least you’re not denying it.” I frowned. “It’s not to undermine Aura. It’s to…” “To what?” she cut me off, her voice rising. “To use my money and my resources to build your own private company while I’m facing a crisis?!” “Claire, listen to me,” I pleaded, standing up to face her. “The Singapore logistics deal is a trap. Kronos Industries is behind it. The renewable energy project is the future of Aura. I was only trying to—” “Enough!” she screamed. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her voice was sharp enough to cut glass. “With the cake, you said Jack framed you. With the project, you said he was lying to me. What about now? Now that we’ve found a company registered in your own name, are you still going to try and blame someone else?!” I stood frozen, a crushing weight settling on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Claire stared at me, her words hitting like bullets. “Ethan Rhodes, as of this moment, you are suspended pending a full investigation. All your corporate access is revoked, and your accounts are frozen. We’re going to find out exactly how much you stole from this company.” I stood outside the towering glass facade of our building as the rain began to fall, plastering my hair to my forehead. My phone lit up with notifications: all my accounts frozen. Even my private email had been remotely wiped by Aura’s IT department. A final message came through from my assistant: Mr. Rhodes, Ms. Fairchild has sealed your office. They even took your computer… I’m sorry. That evening, Claire’s parents arrived at my home. Her father sat across from me, his voice cold. “Ethan, for the sake of the long friendship between our families, we’re giving you one last chance to walk away from this with some dignity.” He slid a document across the table. Voluntary Stock Transfer Agreement. Claire’s mother sighed softly. “Just sign it. Transfer your shares in Keystone Capital to Claire, and we can put this all behind us.” I stared at the document, then I started to laugh. “You really think I set up that company to steal from Aura? Where’s Claire?” “She doesn’t want to see you. The evidence is irrefutable. Are you still trying to deny it?” I slowly looked up, my eyes meeting his. “If I truly wanted to steal from you, why is it that I didn’t take a single file related to the core technology of the renewable energy project? Because from the very beginning, the only thing I have ever tried to protect is the future of Aura Innovations.” I picked up the pen and signed my name. “She can have the shares,” I said, my voice flat. “But Claire Fairchild… she’ll go to her grave never knowing what she threw away.” Inside the Fairchild mansion, the atmosphere was suffocating. My father, leaning heavily on his cane, bowed deeply to Claire’s. “My friend, it is my failure as a father that has caused you so much trouble.” My mother took Claire’s hand, her voice pleading. “Claire, dear, Ethan can be stubborn, but I know he still loves you.” Claire let out a cold laugh, her nails digging into her own palm. “Loves me? Is that what he was thinking about when he was setting up Keystone Capital behind my back?” My father sighed. “The boy… he was just trying to save the renewable energy project.” “Enough!” Mr. Fairchild slammed his hand on the table. “What good does any of this do now? Thanks to Ethan’s little stunt, Aura’s stock has plummeted by ten percent! How does the Rhodes family intend to take responsibility for that?” My mother pulled a folder from her purse. “This is a transfer agreement for thirty percent of the Rhodes Corporation’s shares. On one condition…” She glanced at Claire. “That the two of you reconcile and proceed with the wedding as planned. It would be best for both our families.” Mr. Fairchild took the folder, his silence heavy. He looked at his daughter. “Claire, what do you think…?” She scoffed and stood up, walking out of the room without another word. … Late that night, Claire burst into my room. “Five years,” she stated, her voice trembling slightly. “We’ll divorce in five years. I’ll return the Rhodes shares, and your shares in Aura, in full.” I stood by the window, smoking one cigarette after another. After a long moment, I nodded, the bitterness a sharp taste in my mouth. “Fine.” Her voice shook with repressed fury. “Separate rooms. We don’t interfere in each other’s private lives. We can pretend to be a happy couple in public, but in private, you are not to touch me.” I nodded again. “Alright…” A week later, the wedding march echoed through the grand cathedral. I stood at the altar, watching Claire walk down the aisle on her father’s arm. She wore the gown I had picked out for her, and she was breathtakingly beautiful. But her eyes were glacial, as if she were approaching a business merger, not a marriage. Just as the priest began the vows, the great oak doors of the cathedral were thrown open with a deafening crash. “Claire! You can’t marry him!” Jack stumbled in, covered in blood. His white suit was soaked in crimson, and he staggered before collapsing in the center of the aisle. “After everything he’s done… how can you still marry him?!” “Jack! What are you doing here? What happened to you?!” Claire’s face was a mask of horror and concern. She rushed down from the altar to help him. Jack seemed to steel himself, his hand trembling as he held up a manila envelope. “Claire, do you want to know how I could predict everything Ethan was planning? It’s because I’ve been reborn! I know everything! In our past life, he and his parents hired someone to run your mother and father off the road, to kill them so they could steal your family’s company and leave you with nothing!” He coughed up a spray of blood, his performance so convincing I almost wanted to applaud. “The cake, the investment… I knew all of his schemes! I was only trying to save you!” “I thought… I thought you wouldn’t marry him,” he gasped. “But you compromised for the sake of the company. I couldn’t bear to see you suffer the same fate again, so I…” He fumbled with the envelope, spilling its contents onto the floor—a stack of photos detailing her parents’ daily routines and travel routes, with several high-risk accident locations circled in red. “I found these… in a hidden safe in Ethan’s study…” Jack squeezed his eyes shut in mock agony. “I was trying to get the evidence out… but his men caught me…” Claire’s head snapped up, her eyes locking on me, burning with a rage so intense it felt physical. She clutched the forged photos, her voice a cold, shaking whisper. “Ethan Rhodes. What do you have to say for yourself now?” Her father was apoplectic. He snatched the photos and threw them in my face. “The wedding is off!” he roared. “From this day forward, the Fairchild and Rhodes families have nothing to do with each other! Get out!” The guests erupted in a chorus of outrage and condemnation. “I can’t believe the Rhodes heir is that kind of monster!” “He’d kill his fiancée’s parents just for their fortune? He’s less than human!” “Poor Claire, she almost married a viper!” I stood my ground, my gaze sweeping over their furious faces before finally settling on Jack. His lips were curled into a faint, triumphant smirk, his eyes glinting with victory before he quickly schooled his features back into a mask of pain, slumping weakly against Claire as if he had truly risked his life to save her. I let out a soft laugh, my eyes flicking to the seats where my parents should have been. They were empty. Of course. They never came. Slowly, I began to clap, the sound echoing unnervingly through the silent cathedral. “Brilliant,” I said, my eyes fixed on Jack, a cold smile twisting my lips. “Truly brilliant, Jack. An excellent performance. But this time, you’ve picked the wrong opponent.”

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On the day the holiday bonuses were announced, I was crucified on Mercy General’s internal employee forum by the deceptively sweet new intern. The post claimed that as the head of cardiothoracic surgery—the hospital’s “top scalpel”—I was greedy for taking a $100,000 bonus all for myself. What they didn’t know was that the hundred grand wasn’t a simple holiday bonus. It was the annual performance dividend for every high-risk, life-or-death procedure performed at this hospital—procedures that only I was qualified to execute. But context didn’t matter. The entire hospital was calling my integrity into question, accusing me of being shamelessly avaricious. So, I decided to give the people what they wanted. I submitted a formal request to the administration: [To foster departmental unity, I voluntarily request that all my scheduled high-complexity surgical cases be reassigned to other qualified physicians.] When the notice went out, the hospital practically ground to a halt. The senior department heads mobbed the entrance to my office, begging me to take it back. … I had just stepped out of a grueling twelve-hour aortic dissection repair when my assistant, Jenna, handed me her phone. Pinned to the top of the hospital forum was a trending post: [Let’s talk about Dr. Evelyn Reed from Cardio. A $100,000 bonus? Isn’t that a little… shameless?] The author was anonymous, but the avatar was a fluffy pink bunny. I recognized it instantly. It was Chloe, the new intern. The post was simple: a screenshot of the bonus distribution list, my name and the figure “$100,000.00” clearly visible, though other details were blurred. The caption dripped with passive aggression: [‘Tis the season of giving! I thought we might get some candy canes or something, but Mercy General decided to make it rain. Except, Dr. Reed alone walked away with a hundred grand, while the rest of us nurses and junior docs are killing ourselves for a few hundred bucks. Lol, I guess poverty really does limit your imagination.] She conveniently failed to mention that this “bonus” was the annual payout for all “Tier-4” surgical procedures. And in the entire cardiothoracic department—no, in the entire hospital—the only surgeon capable of independently performing ultra-complex Tier-4 operations like Type-A aortic dissections or giant ventricular aneurysm resections was me. The comment section was a dumpster fire. [A hundred grand?! Why doesn’t she just rob a bank?] [We in the ER work like dogs every single day, and my entire yearly bonus isn’t even a fraction of hers. How is that fair?] [They call her the hospital’s top scalpel. Looks like she’s the top earner, too.] I scrolled through the venom, my face a blank mask. The life I had just spent half a day saving suddenly felt a little less precious. Back in my office, the atmosphere was thick with tension. I could feel the change in the way people looked at me. A group of nurses who usually chattered away fell silent the moment I walked in, scattering with poorly concealed expressions of disdain and envy. My mentor, Dr. Harrison, the head of the department, called me into his office. He sighed, the sound heavy with fatigue. “Evelyn. How do you plan on handling this?” “Sir, you know it’s not a holiday bonus.” He nodded, then shook his head. “I know. But they don’t. And you can’t silence a mob.” I understood his unspoken suggestion: I should give some of the money back, take a step down to appease the masses. Just as I was about to respond, there was a knock on the door. Dr. Mark Carter, the associate chief of surgery, walked in, with Chloe trailing behind him. Mark was a few years my senior and always carried himself as if he were my long-suffering superior, despite the fact that I consistently outperformed him in the OR. The sour stench of his jealousy was palpable whenever I won another award. He immediately adopted the air of a mediator. “Dr. Harrison, Dr. Reed. Chloe here is young and acted foolishly. I brought her to apologize.” He gave her a little nudge forward. Chloe’s eyes were red-rimmed. She bowed stiffly, her voice thick with fake tears. “Dr. Reed, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just… I saw the number and I was so shocked. It felt unfair, and I wanted to ask on behalf of everyone. I didn’t have any malicious intent.” “On behalf of everyone.” “Didn’t mean to.” Her apology was sharper than a winter wind. Mark smoothly picked up the thread. “Evelyn, you see? Chloe was just thinking about department morale. And really, this isn’t all her fault. The bonus structure is a bit problematic; it’s bound to cause misunderstandings.” He looked at me, a glint of triumph in his eyes. “How about this? You take a portion of the money, treat the whole department to a nice dinner, and we’ll build some goodwill. We’ll let this whole thing blow over. She’s just a kid, after all. We should be the bigger people here.” The way he said it made it sound like I had taken money that wasn’t mine and now needed to buy my way back into everyone’s good graces. I watched their perfectly choreographed performance and let out a cold laugh. “You’re right, Dr. Carter. My perspective was too narrow. I was so focused on the surgeries that I didn’t consider everyone else’s feelings.” Mark’s smile widened, thinking I was capitulating. Chloe lowered her head, her shoulders shaking slightly in a display of contrived remorse. I ignored them and turned to Dr. Harrison. “Sir, the root of this problem is that my skillset has created a monopoly. I’m taking up too many resources, leaving no room for my colleagues to grow.” “To promote unity, and to give excellent mid-career physicians like Dr. Carter more opportunities, I’ve decided to submit a formal request to the administration.” I paused, watching the blood drain from Mark’s face, and enunciated each word with perfect clarity. “I am voluntarily relinquishing my privileges for all Tier-4 surgical procedures. I will transfer the entire caseload to other qualified surgeons in this department. From now on, I will only perform routine Tier-1 and Tier-2 operations.” Dr. Harrison shot to his feet, his face pale with shock. “Evelyn! Are you insane?!” Mark Carter looked like he’d seen a ghost. He had probably imagined a thousand ways to undermine me, but he never dreamed I would take the crown jewel everyone coveted and hurl it—throne and all—directly at him. Tier-4 surgery represented the pinnacle of the profession. It also carried the highest risk. Succeed, and you were showered with prestige and money. Fail, and you faced lawsuits and the end of your career. He had the gall to be envious, but did he have the skill to take the reins? I didn’t give him a chance to process it. As I walked out of the office, I paused beside Chloe. “Congratulations,” I whispered. “You got everyone the fairness they were asking for.” Her face went completely white. My request hit the hospital’s leadership like a bomb. The hospital president himself called me, his tone graver than I’d ever heard it. “Evelyn, who are you trying to punish with this stunt? Do you have any idea what this request means?” “Mr. President, I’m not punishing anyone,” I replied, my voice calm. “I am simply responding to the will of the staff. I don’t want to be the cause of any more division over bonus pay.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. He knew better than anyone that the most advanced operating rooms and equipment in the cardiothoracic wing were essentially reserved for me. He knew how many high-profile patients—politicians, CEOs, complex cases from around the country—specifically requested me by name, generating millions in revenue and prestige for the hospital. And now I was walking away. He, the president, was the first one who couldn’t afford that. “Just calm down. I’ll hold onto your request for now. I’ll have our IT department take care of the forum.” “That won’t be necessary, sir,” I interrupted. “If my presence here undermines fairness, then I will step back. I’m confident the hospital will function perfectly well without me.” I hung up. A few minutes later, Jenna burst into my office, her eyes wide with panic. “Dr. Reed, it’s bad. The forum is exploding again!” I pulled it up. A new post had shot to the top. [Insider Info! Dr. Reed is threatening to go on strike over bonus dispute!] The poster was anonymous again, but the tone was far more inflammatory. [She’s holding the entire hospital hostage just because she’s good at her job. Is this a physician’s compassion, or a physician’s greed? The ego on this woman is unbelievable.] A comment right below it, heavily upvoted, was from an account I recognized as one of Mark Carter’s burners. [I’ve always heard she was difficult, but I never imagined she lacked this much perspective. The operating room isn’t her personal stage. The world keeps spinning without her.] Chloe, however, went all in, posting under her real name with a paragraph of carefully crafted, fire-stoking “objectivity.” [As an intern, I’ve seen how tirelessly our senior doctors work for their patients, but I’ve also seen imperfections in the system. I believe our hospital is a compassionate community, and personal feelings should never be placed above a patient’s life. I hope certain individuals can cool down and not do something that will disappoint us all.] She had successfully rebranded herself as a concerned, noble whistleblower. I laughed out loud, the sound bitter and sharp. Just then, my phone rang. It was the ER. The head nurse’s voice was a frantic blur. “Dr. Reed! A trauma patient just came in, suspected Marfan syndrome with an acute Type-A aortic dissection rupture! He’s in shock! We need you down here now!” A ruptured Type-A dissection. The mortality rate was measured in minutes, not hours. It was the Mount Everest of cardiac surgery. I grabbed my white coat and sprinted out the door. But as I reached the ER triage desk, a middle-aged woman blocked my path. She was the patient’s wife. Her eyes were red and swollen, but her face was a mask of suspicion and distrust. She was clutching her phone, the screen displaying the very forum post that had put me on trial. “You’re Evelyn Reed?” she demanded, her eyes raking over me. “You’re the one who’s going on strike over money?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it hit me like a sledgehammer. The family’s accusation was a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. The adrenaline, the battle-ready focus I’d been summoning, shattered into a million pieces. I looked at her, then past her to the trauma bay where a man’s life was draining away by the second. The sheer absurdity of the situation was overwhelming. I wanted to explain, but I knew that in the face of manufactured outrage, logic was useless. “I am not on strike.” She didn’t believe me. She took a step back, as if I were a venomous snake. “I don’t care what you are or aren’t doing! I will not let a doctor with no ethics operate on my husband!” she shrieked. “Get me someone else! Surely you have other experts in this hospital?” The ER chief rushed over, his face turning a sickly green when he heard her demand. “Ma’am, please, calm down! Dr. Reed is the only surgeon in this hospital who can perform this operation! If we delay any longer, no one will be able to save him!” “I don’t care! I want a different doctor!” she screamed, her voice cracking. At that moment, Mark and Chloe arrived on the scene. A flicker of satisfaction crossed Mark’s face before he replaced it with a look of deep concern. He approached the woman, his voice a gentle balm. “Ma’am, please, don’t be upset. We understand you’re emotional, but saving your husband is the priority. Dr. Reed’s technical skills are, at least, reliable…” His words, seemingly supportive, only served to validate her belief that my ethics were questionable. Chloe, ever the empath, handed the woman a cup of water. “Ma’am, please try not to worry. Or, perhaps we could ask Dr. Carter? He’s also a brilliant specialist in our department.” That single sentence was all it took. The woman’s eyes lit up with a new, desperate hope. She grabbed Mark’s arm like a drowning person clutching a life raft. “Doctor, you’ll do the surgery! I trust you!” Mark made a show of hesitating. “Well… that’s not exactly protocol. Dr. Reed is the attending surgeon of record…” But his eyes kept darting in my direction, filled with undisguised provocation. The hospital president and Dr. Harrison, having been alerted, came rushing down, looking panicked. The president took one look at the standoff and dragged me aside, his voice a low, pleading whisper. “Evelyn, for God’s sake, a man is dying! Just give in this once. Apologize to the family, smooth things over!” Apologize? For what? For the bonus I earned with my skill? For the scalpel in my hand that could save a man’s life? I looked at the president’s frantic face, at the smug curl of Mark’s lip, at the toxic innocence in Chloe’s eyes. And I suddenly felt so incredibly tired.

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As the Stark family’s sole heiress, I was kidnapped three times before turning ten. My father assigned a hundred bodyguards; even school required a three-car bulletproof motorcade. “Choose a husband to protect you day and night,” he said. I picked Ian Taylor, the gentlest of his protégés. But on our wedding day, he withdrew all my security. Tied to a rooftop chair with a knife at my throat, I heard his cold sneer over the phone: “Sent thugs to harass Lily, and now playing victim? I just reassigned your guards to protect her for twenty-four hours. Wanted you to know fear.” With each toll of the distant clock, they took a finger. After twenty-four hours, I bled out. When I reopened my eyes, I was back to choosing a husband. My father held the same eight photos. This time, I skipped Ian’s face, pointing to the reckless grin in the corner. But my father said, “That man is already dead.” 1 I stared at the eight photographs in my father’s hand. My finger traced a path over Ian Taylor’s chiseled, gentle face and landed squarely on the man at the very bottom—the one with the sun-kissed skin and the cocky smile. My father froze. “Sierra? I thought Ian was your favorite. Why choose Kai Donovan?” My hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into my palm. Kai Donovan. A star athlete since childhood, he was also the most notorious playboy in our elite circle. His skin was tanned from countless hours on the racetrack, his nights spent in clubs with a rotating cast of glamorous women. My father despised him, eventually shipping him off to manage a dead-end project in some remote, godforsaken mountain range. But I remembered. In my last life, as I bled out on that rooftop, the last thing I saw before I threw myself over the edge was Kai, his face a mask of raw terror and heartbreak, sprinting toward me as if he could outrun death itself. “Him,” I said, my voice trembling. My father frowned and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He stopped, a flicker of awkwardness on his face. He didn’t even have Kai’s number saved. How ironic. All eight men were his adopted “sons,” his wards, yet Kai wasn’t even worthy of a contact entry. His executive assistant called back within minutes. “Sir, Kai Donovan was killed last month in Redstone Canyon. There was a mudslide.” My father sighed. “Sierra, just pick someone else. Ian is—” “Then I choose no one.” I shot to my feet, my throat tight. “If I can’t have him, I don’t want anyone.” In my past life, the other so-called “brothers” had either fawned over Ian’s cousin or watched my suffering with cold amusement. If I had to live again, I would rather be alone than be stabbed in the back by their false kindness. I stumbled out of the office, Kai’s final expression burned into my mind. If even he was dead, who in this world would fight for me? Suddenly, a cold hand clamped around my wrist. I looked up. It was Ian. And standing beside him, her slender frame leaning against his, was Lily Reid. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had suffered a terrible injustice. Ian’s expression was gentle, but his words were hard. “Sierra, Lily isn’t well. Your mountain spa is just sitting empty. Let her go there to recuperate for a few days. She hasn’t been sleeping, and her cough is getting worse.” The old me would have melted, would have agreed instantly. This time, I just gave them a detached glance. “No.” I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant. “Lock the gates to the estate. Don’t let any trash wander in.” Ian’s face darkened. “Sierra!” He tightened his grip on my wrist, the pressure painful. “She’s my cousin. She’ll be your family soon too. Can’t you be a little more understanding?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, and ripped my arm from his grasp. “Who said anything about being family with you?” His eyes widened as if I’d struck him. “What has gotten into you? Is this because Lily wore your hairpin that one time? You have rooms full of jewelry. What’s the big deal if she borrows one thing?” On cue, Lily began to sob, tears clinging to her lashes. “Ian, it’s okay… Miss Stark looks down on me. I… I was never worthy…” I had no patience for this melodrama. I turned to leave. “I said no. That’s the end of it.” Back in my suite, I threw myself under the covers and slept. The dizzying sensation of rebirth still echoed in my head, a disorienting hum that was only broken by the shrill ring of my phone. “Miss Stark!” my assistant’s panicked voice cried. “Mr. Taylor and Miss Reid forced their way into the estate! I couldn’t stop them! All the guards listened to him…” I shot upright in bed. The memories of my kidnapping flashed before my eyes. The bodyguards who were supposed to protect me had done the same thing then, abandoning me without a second thought on Ian’s command, leaving me to the mercy of my captors. When I stormed into the spa, one of the guards actually had the audacity to block my path. “Miss Stark, Mr. Taylor gave orders that no one is to disturb them.” Crack. The sound of my hand striking his face echoed in the marble hall. “You eat my family’s food, and you take orders from him?” I was shaking with fury. “Get out of my sight. Now.” I threw open the doors to the main thermal pool, and the scene before me made my blood run cold. 2 Through the rising steam, Lily Reid was draped over the edge of the pool, her body languid, her cheeks flushed with an unnatural, feverish pink. “Ian… I feel so dizzy…” Before the words were even out of her mouth, she went limp, sliding bonelessly beneath the water’s surface. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ian dove in and swept her into his arms. Water streamed down his sharp jawline, dripping onto her bare shoulder. “Ian,” I said, my voice cutting through the humid air. “I told you. You are not welcome here.” He froze, and in his arms, Lily’s eyelashes fluttered. “Sierra!” Panic flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by anger. “Do you have to be so aggressive? She almost fainted! Can’t you have a shred of decency?” Suddenly, Lily struggled out of his embrace and fell to her knees before me with a splash, her forehead hitting the stone floor with a sickening thud. “Miss Stark, I’m sorry! It’s all my fault!” Blood trickled down her pale cheek. She lunged forward, grabbing my legs, but in the next second, she recoiled as if shoved, tumbling back into the pool. She thrashed wildly in the water. “Help! My leg is cramping…!” Ian dove in again, scooping her up. When he emerged, his eyes were filled with disgust. “You’ve gone too far, Sierra!” He lunged forward and shoved me hard. I fell backward into the pool, my arm slamming against the stone wall with a sharp crack of pain, a deep bruise already forming. “If you ever bully Lily like this again,” he said, cradling the shivering girl in his arms, his voice like ice, “I will not marry you.” As I watched them leave, I dragged myself out of the water, bruised and humiliated. “Everyone who let them in today is fired! Get them off my property!” I was changing when my assistant rushed in. “Miss Stark! We found a lead on Kai Donovan!” I drove through the night to Redstone Canyon, the storm-ravaged mountain roads a treacherous river of mud. I had just checked into a small motel in the nearest town when a large hand grabbed me from behind, pulling me into a dark alley. A warm palm clamped firmly over my mouth. I looked up in terror and met a pair of eyes that shone like stars in the darkness. “Kai?!” He snatched his hand away, his face flushing crimson beneath his mask. “Miss Stark, what are you doing in a place like this…?” “You’re not dead?” My voice was a shaky whisper. He scratched his head awkwardly, revealing a charmingly crooked canine tooth. “There was a traitor in my division on this project. The mudslide was the perfect cover to fake my death and smoke him out.” “You know how to do things like that?” I asked, surprised. His bright smile dimmed. “Is that a disappointment? Did you… did you always think I was just some idiot?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I grabbed his hand, my grip desperate. “Listen to me! You have to be back before the 8th, for the wedding!” His body went rigid, the light in his eyes extinguished. “Right. Your wedding. I’ll be there.” “You idiot,” I stomped my foot in frustration. “It’s our—” “Boss! The traitor is making a run for it!” a voice shouted from down the alley. Kai took a frantic step back. “Miss Stark, it could be dangerous here. Please, go back! I promise I’ll be at the wedding!” And just like that, he was gone, his figure vanishing into the darkness. I stood there, a thousand thoughts swirling in my mind. In my past life, he was the one I paid the least attention to. Everyone said he was all brawn and no brains, a simpleton who was only good for nightclubs and extreme sports. Not like Ian, always impeccably dressed in a tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses, a master of strategy. But it was always Kai who was sent to handle the most marginalized projects, the most difficult clients. Thinking back now, those “marginalized projects” involved dealing with the most unsavory, dangerous characters. How could anyone handle that without being cunning and extraordinarily capable? On the drive back, I had my assistant create a new digital wedding invitation and send it to Kai. It was well past midnight when my phone finally lit up with his reply. “Miss, you wrote the groom’s name wrong. You should fix it.” The “typing…” bubble flickered for a long time before another message appeared. “Don’t worry. I’ll definitely be there to see you get married.” I couldn’t help but smile. He wouldn’t believe anything I said now. I would just have to explain it to him in person when he returned. My phone buzzed again and again with messages from Ian. “Lily deserves an apology from you.” “Stop being so childish.” I opened our chat and, without a second thought, deleted him. 3 Knowing Kai was not only alive but far more brilliant than I had ever imagined filled me with a sense of hope I hadn’t felt in two lifetimes. I began to throw myself into the wedding preparations. One afternoon, I pushed open the glass door of the bridal boutique, only to be assaulted by a wave of cheap, cloying perfume. “Ian~ Do I look beautiful in this?” Lily’s saccharine voice made my skin crawl. She was standing in front of a mirror, admiring herself in the custom-made wedding gown my mother had designed for me. Ian gazed at her, his voice soft. “Lily, you look beautiful in everything.” “Oh, stop~ You always know just what to say~” she cooed, twirling around and sending another noxious cloud of perfume into the air. I forced down my rage and walked toward them. The moment Ian saw me, his face went rigid. He instinctively stepped in front of Lily, his voice a carefully constructed mask of gentleness. “Sierra, don’t misunderstand. Lily’s health… she might not… she might not live to see her own wedding day. She just wanted to feel what it’s like to wear a wedding dress.” Lily began to cough delicately. “Take it off,” I said, my voice ice. Lily’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Miss Stark, I’m so sorry. I was just so envious of you.” She clutched at Ian’s sleeve, her body trembling. “It’s all my fault, don’t be angry with Ian…” Ian’s expression hardened. “You’re going to marry me anyway. What does it matter if she tries it on? Can’t you just let her have this one moment of happiness?” “I said, take it off,” I repeated, each word a shard of glass. I turned my glare on the terrified shop assistants. “When did my bespoke gown become available for anyone to try on?” The two assistants scrambled to help Lily out of the dress, leaving red marks on her pale arms. Lily was sobbing hysterically now. “I’m sorry! I’m worthless! I don’t deserve to wear something so beautiful!” She suddenly went limp, her knees buckling. Ian lunged forward to catch her, then turned to me, his voice a furious roar. “Are you satisfied now, Sierra?” “Disinfect it three times,” I said, my nose wrinkled in disgust. “I don’t want a trace of that smell left on it.” Lily covered her face and ran out of the shop. Ian glared at me, his face a thundercloud, before slamming the door behind him. That evening, my assistant sidled up to me, her eyes sparkling with gossip. “Miss Stark, you’ll never guess what happened! That frail little flower, Lily Reid, got hit by a car today! I heard she broke her leg!” She gestured excitedly. “If you ask me, it’s karma! Everyone knows Ian is your fiancé, but she’s always clinging to him, acting all innocent. It’s disgusting!” I swirled the red wine in my glass, a cold smile touching my lips. “Who told you Ian was my fiancé?” My assistant’s eyes went wide, the fruit platter in her hands nearly tumbling to the floor. “Miss Stark, are you saying…?” “Have the wedding planner change the groom’s name on the invitations,” I said, taking a sip of wine. “To Kai Donovan.” “Yes!” my assistant cheered, clapping her hands. “That Ian guy seems nice enough, but he has no boundaries! He and Lily are always together. He’s such a flirt.” I had to smile. Even my assistant could see it so clearly. How had I been so blind in my past life? Love, it seemed, was truly a blinding force. I sighed at the thought. The next morning, as I stepped out of the company headquarters, something was thrown over my head, plunging me into darkness. A burlap sack. “Who are you?! Let me go!” I struggled, but my attackers were rough, shoving me into a car. My back slammed against the door, and I gasped in pain. A familiar, paralyzing fear washed over me. The memories of my past kidnappings came flooding back. “Please! I’ll give you whatever you want!” My voice trembled uncontrollably, tears soaking the rough fabric over my eyes. The only response was a suffocating silence. Then, a familiar scent drifted into the small space. The sharp, clean smell of Ian’s signature cologne. My heart sank like a stone. “What… what do you want from me…?” “Someone wants me to teach you a lesson,” a voice said, low and intentionally disguised. Even though I had already decided never to marry him, the fact that he was doing this, that he was capable of this, shattered something inside me. THUD. An iron bar slammed into my leg. The pain was so intense my vision went black. A tearing agony ripped through my chest, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to let him know I recognized him. I curled into a ball in the corner of the trunk, my silent tears soaking the sack. The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was his cold, dispassionate voice. “Remember this lesson.” 4 The iron bar landed with a sickening thud. Once, twice, three times… Fifteen times. I could hear the crack of my own bones. The pain finally dragged me into unconsciousness. I was dumped like trash at the gates of the Stark estate. The antiseptic smell of the hospital was overwhelming. From the VIP suite next to mine, I could hear Lily’s voice. “Ian, you’ve been here with me every day. You must be so exhausted!” My heart felt like it was being crushed. Ian. To get revenge for Lily, you were capable of this. “My daughter!” My father rushed in and hugged me, his voice shaking. “Who did this? I swear, I will make them wish they were never born!” “Dad, it’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile through the pain. “Just… hire me a new security team.” I took a breath. “And by the way, Kai is alive. When we get married, he’ll protect me too.” After my father left, I hobbled to the window on my crutches. In the garden below, Ian was spinning Lily around in his arms. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made the tips of his own turn red. He was smiling, a tender, genuine smile I had never once received. The day before the wedding, Kai arrived, looking like he’d just stepped out of a dust storm. He carefully pulled a smooth, warm piece of jade from his pocket. “Miss Stark, a wedding gift!” “The groom is finally here,” I said with a smile, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Kai froze, his eyes instantly turning red. His lips trembled, but no words came out. My assistant quietly informed me that Ian hadn’t been seen for days. I scoffed. He was waiting for me to break, for me to come crawling back and beg him to marry me. He was in for a disappointment. That night, my phone buzzed. It was a video from Lily. The shaky footage showed her and Ian, tangled together in bed. It was disgusting. A moment later, the video was deleted. “Pathetic,” I muttered, turning off my phone. Their games were laughable now. From my window, I saw Kai standing alone under the stars, looking up at my room. He gave me a small wave, his smile warm and steady. In that moment, a profound sense of peace settled over me for the first time. On the morning of the wedding, my phone rang. “If you apologize to Lily right now, I will come and marry you,” Ian said, his voice as arrogant as ever. “Not necessary,” I replied, hanging up without another word, a cold smile playing on my lips. At the venue, the guests were whispering amongst themselves. “Where is Ian Taylor?” “Is the wedding going to be canceled?” I ignored them all, taking Kai’s arm and walking down the aisle. His bicep was tense, but he held me so gently, careful not to hurt my still-healing leg. “Let us congratulate Mr. Kai Donovan and the heiress of the Stark family!” the officiant’s voice boomed. At that exact moment, the grand doors to the hall were thrown open. Ian stood there, his face as white as a sheet. The bouquet of flowers in his hand fell to the floor with a soft thud. I smiled, and under his stunned, disbelieving gaze, I pulled Kai closer and kissed him.

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After two years away on a private wellness retreat, I received a selfie from my daughter. She was on a milk delivery truck, dressed in a drab work uniform. “Mom, are you coming home soon? I miss you so much.” My heart softened. My daughter, Lily, was finally growing up, learning the value of starting from the ground up. I was about to type a few words of praise when I looked closer. Her skin was darkened by the sun, and the shirt she wore under the uniform was one I’d bought for her three years ago. It was pilled and worn thin, yet she hadn’t thrown it away. My daughter, the heiress to a billion-dollar fortune, experiencing life? This seemed a bit too real. I zoomed in again. Her shoes were falling apart, a gaping hole at the toe. The more I looked, the more a cold unease crept over me. The next second, I was scrolling through my adopted daughter’s Instagram. It was a highlight reel of male models and supercars. On her wrist, she wore my limited-edition, full-diamond bracelet—one of only a handful in the world. But what truly made my blood run cold was the Rolls-Royce that appeared most frequently in her photos. That was the graduation gift I had bought for Lily. How did it become hers?! … I nearly crushed my phone in my hand. I swiped through photo after photo until I saw it. The locket around Jessica’s neck. My breath caught in my throat. That was our family heirloom. It had been passed down through the Geller family for generations. How could it be hanging around the neck of an outsider? I remembered it perfectly: on Lily’s eighteenth birthday, I had placed it around her neck myself. My hands shaking, I found the number for my daughter’s university and called the registrar’s office, demanding to know about Lily Geller’s academic standing. The woman’s answer almost stopped my heart. “Lily Geller? She dropped out months ago.” Dropped out? My daughter… dropped out? The world tilted on its axis. My head started to buzz. I immediately video-called my husband, Michael. He answered, freshly dressed after a dip in his private hot tub, a towel around his neck. His expression was utterly nonchalant. “It’s just a locket, Amelia. Jessica liked it, so I let her borrow it for a few days. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? They’re sisters, it’s normal for them to share.” Normal? Had he forgotten what that locket represented? I fought to keep my voice steady. “Why isn’t Lily in school?” “She didn’t want to go. What was I supposed to do?” Michael replied dismissively, then hung up. I trembled with a rage so intense it felt like fire in my veins. That man’s indulgence of our adopted daughter knew no bounds. Looking back, even before I left for my retreat, Michael had been growing more and more distant with Lily. When she was little, he’d treated her like a princess, spoiling her rotten. But two years ago, after Jessica arrived, he suddenly put Lily on a strict vegetarian diet, claiming it was for her health. Meanwhile, Jessica was feasting on steak and lobster in our own home. I’d even joked about it at the time, asking if every bite Lily didn’t eat would magically end up on Jessica’s plate. He’d called me petty, saying we could certainly afford it. Now I see it. I was so blind. I tried calling Lily again, but the line was busy. The poor girl was probably out on her delivery route. I dialed my neighbor. We were close; she would know something. When she answered, her voice was hesitant. “Amelia, thank goodness you called! It’s… well, it’s not really our place to say, but… Lily’s had a really rough couple of years.” I pressed for details, but she refused to say more. Next, I called our housekeeper, Mrs. Evans. I didn’t waste any time. “Our household expenses have tripled in the last two years. Why did Lily drop out of the prestigious university she worked so hard to get into? Why was I kept in the dark about all this? Tell me, who has all that money been spent on?” Mrs. Evans, who had always been meek and respectful, suddenly found a spine. “Miss Lily didn’t want to go to school. She said being there gave her headaches. Delivering milk makes her happy.” Happy? My daughter was a born academic. Her entire life had been about her studies. I knew better than anyone how much blood, sweat, and tears she’d poured into getting into that university. The more I thought about it, the more I was certain something was deeply wrong. I opened Michael’s Facebook page. Not long ago, he’d taken Mrs. Evans, our driver, and Jessica on an overseas vacation. And at that exact same time, my poor daughter had been rushed to the hospital and treated for severe heatstroke. The wellness center called to ask if I wanted to renew my membership. Renew it? To hell with that. I couldn’t wait another second. I had my assistant book the first flight back. I was going home. I needed to see for myself what in God’s name had happened to my family. 1 That night, the company’s executive chat was on fire. Rumors of my return were flying, with everyone speculating I was coming back to clean house. After all, I had stepped away two years ago when the company was at its peak, choosing a quiet retreat over the boardroom. For two years, I thought of my daughter every single day. I’d ignored every message from my top executives. The moment my plane touched down, I felt an urgent pull homeward. It was late when I finally arrived. Lily had just gotten home from her route. I rushed forward and took her hands in mine, my heart sinking at the touch of rough, heavy callouses that had no business being on the hands of a girl her age. She threw her arms around me, her voice trembling. “Mom, you’re back. You’re not leaving again, are you? You’ll stay home this time?” A chill went down my spine. My daughter was twenty years old, yet she sounded like a frightened child. Her entire demeanor was timid, all her former spark and energy gone. I led her into the courtyard, wanting to show her my surprise. But as we walked, she began to tremble, like a startled animal. When I pulled the cover off the limited-edition custom motorcycle, Lily’s expression remained blank. There was no flicker of excitement. I remembered how obsessed she used to be with motorcycles, so different from other girls. How could she have changed so much in just two years? A wave of sorrow washed over me. “Lily, sweetheart. Tell me what’s been happening.” Before she could answer, the gate screeched open. Jessica roared in behind the wheel of a sports car, parking with an arrogance that suggested she owned the place. Her eyes immediately locked onto the new motorcycle, and they lit up. “Mom! You’re back! And you brought me such an amazing present!” She started to swing a leg over it. I stepped in her way. “This isn’t for you. It’s for Lily.” “Oh, come on. We’re sisters. What’s yours is mine, right, Lily?” Jessica said with a saccharine smile, looking at my daughter. Lily kept her head down, silent. She quietly picked up a bucket and cloth and began to wash Jessica’s car. I stared, dumbfounded. I grabbed Lily’s hand. “What are you doing? Let the staff wash it, or send it to the dealership. Why are you doing this?” “It’s okay, Mom. I’m used to it,” Lily mumbled. In that moment of distraction, Jessica had already started the motorcycle. With a deafening roar, she sped off into the night. Watching my daughter move like a puppet on strings, my fists clenched. Before, she would have chattered away for hours, telling me everything. Now, she wouldn’t say a word about her own life. And Jessica’s entitled attitude, as if everything that belonged to Lily was hers by right—it was all completely, horribly wrong. I decided I would get to the bottom of it. That night, I went to Lily’s room to sleep with her. “Why did you drop out of university? You were so thrilled when you got in. I never imagined you would just quit. Did something happen?” I tried to keep my voice gentle. Lily clutched the blanket, turning her face away. “I just don’t like crowded places. I wanted to be alone.” Her answer made no sense. My daughter had always been a social butterfly with a hundred friends. Since when did she prefer solitude? Later that night, Jessica’s motorcycle screeched into the driveway like a wild animal, crashing into the main gate with a deafening bang. Lily shot up in bed, terrified. I quickly pulled her close, stroking her back to soothe her. She seemed hypersensitive to sound, which only deepened my confusion. I did a quick search online. Anxiety disorders. Sufferers were often easily startled by loud noises, which could trigger traumatic memories. And through all of this, my husband, Michael, had never said a single word to me. 2 That first night back, I called Michael relentlessly. Not only had he not met me at the airport, he was now completely ignoring me. His behavior was getting more outrageous by the minute. When I first walked into the house, I’d noticed that the living room walls were covered in framed photos of Jessica. There wasn’t a single picture of Lily. What was this? Had a cuckoo taken over my nest? Our family portrait was gone, too. The audacity was staggering. I remembered the day Michael first brought Jessica home two years ago. She was dressed in shabby, ill-fitting clothes, clearly from the countryside. Michael explained that he’d been in a car accident; his car had plunged into a river, and Jessica had heroically saved his life. He said she was a kind, good-hearted girl, the same age as Lily. He wanted to adopt her, bring her into our home to be a companion for Lily and to “strengthen the family.” I had been firmly against it. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful. I was happy to support Jessica financially, to provide for her in every way. But to have her move in with us, to live under our roof? It felt wrong. But Michael was insistent, claiming a “fateful connection” to Jessica. When I refused, he went on a hunger strike, accusing me of being heartless. Eventually, I gave in, figuring I could find an excuse to send her away after a while. I never imagined that in just two years, Jessica would be acting like this was her own home. In the early hours of the morning, I was woken by shouting in the courtyard. I pulled back the curtains. And there was Jessica, holding a meeting with a group of our security guards. The way she postured, you’d think she was planning a coup. My temper flared. Since when did our household security answer to her? I was going to find out what this girl was up to. I hurried downstairs. As I passed Jessica’s room, I caught a glimpse of the gifts I’d brought back from my trip—piles of them, many still in their original packaging, all stacked in her room. Before I could process that, Jessica’s voice, sharp and commanding, drifted up from downstairs. I quickened my pace. Jessica stood there, chin up, playing the part of the young mistress perfectly. “My mother is back. From now on, you all need to watch what you say. I want security tightened around the entire property. No unauthorized personnel, no gossip, and if you have any useless opinions, you can keep them to yourselves. Do you understand?” Her imperious tone, the way she commanded them—she sounded like she’d been in charge for years. You’d think she was the true head of this household. I suppressed my rage and stepped out in front of the group. “What is all this?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “When did Jessica become the one in charge here? Why wasn’t I informed?” The head of security, a woman who had always been my most trusted guard, visibly relaxed when she saw me. I turned my cold gaze on Jessica. “Jessica, you need to learn your place. If there is a next time, you can pack your bags and get out.” I had humiliated her in front of everyone. Her face turned a blotchy, furious red. “Mom, I… I was just excited you were back,” she stammered. “I wanted to help out…” “That’s enough,” I cut her off. “Why are Lily’s gifts in your room? And this designer outfit—where did you get it? Who bought it for you? This jacket alone costs twenty thousand dollars. Who gave you permission to spend money like that?” Jessica lowered her head, her voice shrinking. “Dad… Dad bought it for me. He said it was a reward for studying so hard.” “Take it off. Now. I’m cancelling all your credit cards. If I find you being this extravagant again, you are out of this house for good.” But instead of backing down, she snapped back at me. “You can’t tell me what to do! I’m spending my dad’s money, not yours!” 3 Her defiant entitlement was so absurd it was almost laughable. What truly infuriated me, though, was that when she raised her voice, all the guards lowered their heads. They were clearly used to being bullied by her. Just as I was about to lose it, Michael walked in. He immediately sensed the tense atmosphere. “Amelia, what are you doing? Why are you picking on a child? It’s not like we can’t afford it. What’s the big deal if Jessica buys a few nice things?” The moment Michael spoke, Jessica’s chin lifted. She shot me a look of pure, triumphant defiance. So that was it. The pretense was over. “I’ll eat what my dad provides and spend what my dad gives me. It has nothing to do with you!” she spat. “From now on, you manage your daughter, and stay out of my business!” She spun around to head upstairs. I lunged forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her back so hard she stumbled. “You don’t get to make the rules in this house! Pack your things and get out. Now!” Jessica glared at me, then turned to Michael, expecting him to intervene. But this time, he just waved a dismissive hand. “Alright, that’s enough. Just go get ready for school.” Just then, Lily came downstairs, ready to leave on her three-wheeled delivery bike. I stopped her, pulling the work vest off her. “You’re taking the day off. You’re not going. We’re going to settle this now, while everyone is here.” “Mom, if I don’t go, they’ll dock my pay. The whole week’s work will be for nothing,” Lily said, her voice filled with anxiety. One of the loyal guards quickly stepped forward, taking the bike and the delivery list from her. “Miss Lily, I’ll cover your route today. You take a rest.” I turned to my personal assistant and told her to bring every security guard from my corporate office over to the house—triple the number we had on site. Before long, the entire estate was surrounded. Not even a fly could get in or out. “No one leaves this property today without my permission.” I had my most trusted guard pull up the security footage from the house servers. The color drained from Michael’s face. “Amelia, you still don’t trust me! We agreed—no cameras in the house! You installed them behind my back!” I ignored him and had my assistant set up a large screen in the courtyard. “You can’t show that!” Jessica screamed, lunging forward to stop them. My guards immediately intercepted her. An image appeared on the screen. The very first frame sent a bolt of pure fury through me. I spun around and slapped Michael across the face. The crack echoed through the courtyard. “This is how you act like a father!”

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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?”

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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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