The child from the apartment upstairs fell from the 12th floor, landing on my window awning. I grabbed her hand and held on for dear life. For forty agonizing minutes, I clung to her until the firefighters finally pulled her to safety. Only then did I let go. But afterward, the girl’s parents demanded I pay compensation because her arm was dislocated. “The doctor said the ligament and joint capsule damage is severe. She’s going to have chronic dislocations for the rest of her life.” “This is your fault! Why are you trying to shift the blame?” During the argument, they shoved me. I lost my balance and fell from my own balcony. The little girl didn’t die from her fall. I died from mine. When I was reborn on the day of the rescue, I, a natural homebody, decided to go out for the entire day… 1 My phone buzzed on the table, the screen flashing with the caller ID: “Jenna Miller – Apt 1201.” Once. Twice. Three times. I sat in a corner café, leisurely stirring the foam of my latte, with no intention of answering. I knew exactly why she was calling. And I knew that right now, she must be frantic. Just a short while ago, I had been reborn. In my previous life, on this very afternoon, I was napping at home when I was jolted awake by a series of piercing screams and a sickening thud from outside. I rushed to my balcony to find my neighbor Jenna’s five-year-old daughter, Lily, dangling from the edge of my stainless-steel awning. Half her body was suspended in mid-air, a hair’s breadth from a fatal plunge. Without a second thought, without even putting on shoes, I scrambled barefoot through my balcony’s security bars, stepped onto the narrow awning, and seized Lily’s hand. The girl’s body was heavier than I expected. The downward momentum sent a searing pain through my shoulder, feeling as if it were being torn from its socket. “It’s okay, Lily, I’ve got you! Don’t be scared…” I soothed her, pulling upwards with every ounce of strength I had. But for a woman of my slight build to pull a fifty-pound child back to safety from a dead hang was a near-impossible task. All I could do was hold on, gritting my teeth, feeling the muscles in my arm shred and my bones groan under the immense strain. Time stretched into an eternity. A crowd gathered on the street below. A cacophony of gasps, murmurs, and shouts to call 911 rose from the ground like boiling water. Ten minutes later, Jenna finally realized what was happening. She leaned out of her window, her voice a desperate wail, begging me to hold on. “Ms. Price! Please, I’m begging you, hold on to my Lily!” “I’m coming! Don’t you dare let go!” Her voice was so sincere, so desperate. And I believed her. I thought I was saving a family’s hope. I stared into Lily’s small face, twisted with terror, as sweat and tears blurred my vision. “Auntie… my hand hurts…” Lily cried. “Just a little longer, sweetie. The firefighters are on their way.” My voice was a hoarse whisper, as much to comfort myself as to comfort her. My arm had gone numb, a dead weight I could no longer feel, held in place by sheer willpower. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty… My mind was a blank slate. My vision began to tunnel, the world turning black at the edges. The only sounds were my own ragged breaths and the frantic hammering of my heart. I was at my limit. Each breath felt like it could be my last. Just as I was about to fail, a firefighter appeared from my apartment window. Strong, capable hands took Lily from me. The child was safe. My body went limp, and I practically rolled off the awning and back onto my balcony. Forty minutes. My right arm hung uselessly at my side like a broken branch. I couldn’t even lift a finger. Jenna clutched her daughter, safe at last, and showered me with gratitude. I thought that was the end of it. I had done a good deed. It was hard, but it was worth it. I never imagined it was only the beginning of a nightmare. 2 The next day, Jenna and her husband showed up at my door with a medical report. Not to thank me, but to condemn me. “Hannah Price, look what you’ve done!” Jenna threw the doctor’s report in my face. “The doctor says Lily has severe ligament and joint capsule damage! She has chronic dislocation! The slightest bit of force, and her arm will pop out of its socket for the rest of her life!” I was stunned. “But… that was from the rescue…” “It was your fault!” her husband snarled, jabbing a finger in my face. “We asked Lily. She said you were squeezing her hand so hard it hurt! You’re an adult! Couldn’t you have been more gentle? Did you have to be so rough? Were you trying to hurt her?” I couldn’t believe my ears. I had risked my life to save their child, and now they were blaming me for an unavoidable injury that occurred during the rescue. “I was losing my strength! I was lucky to even hold on to her! How could I possibly control the pressure? Could you have done any better in that situation?” I trembled with rage. “How do we know you didn’t do it on purpose? Maybe you’re just jealous because we have a child and you don’t!” Jenna spat, her words turning venomous. The argument escalated. They demanded I pay for all of Lily’s medical bills, future care, and emotional distress—a total of fifty thousand dollars. I refused. “It was your wife who wasn’t watching her own child! That’s why she fell! I saved her, I didn’t harm her! The fact that you’re not thanking me is one thing, but to try and extort money from me? How dare you!” My words pushed them over the edge. “You still won’t take responsibility!” her husband roared. The argument grew more heated. They started shoving me, screaming insults. In the chaos, from the very same spot on the balcony, they pushed me. Then, a dizzying, weightless plunge. The wind roared in my ears. The screams of the pedestrians below became distant and blurry. I fell from my sixth-floor balcony like a broken doll. In my last moment of consciousness, I had only one thought: How absurd. The girl who fell from the twelfth floor survived. But me, the hero who saved her, was pushed from the sixth and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the day it all went wrong. The sun was shining. It was noon. For the first time in years, I, a notorious homebody, got dressed, put on a little makeup, and left my apartment. I went shopping, saw a movie, had afternoon tea… I did everything I would normally never do. I had to be far away. I had to be unreachable. 3 My phone started buzzing again, relentlessly. This time, it was an unknown number, likely the fire department or the police. I ignored it. Some parents deserve to pay the price for their own negligence and stupidity. And in this life, I had no desire to be the hero. I just wanted to live, for myself, for once. I slowly sipped the last of my coffee. It was about time. I opened an inconspicuous app on my phone, one I had installed a few days ago. It connected to my smart doorbell camera. A clear video feed popped up. A group of people was clustered outside my apartment door. A frantic Jenna, a few curious neighbors, and several grim-faced firefighters. The fire captain was explaining the situation to Jenna. “Ma’am, the child is on the sixth-floor awning. We’ve assessed it from below. The structure seems stable for now, there’s no immediate danger of collapse.” “However, due to the building’s unique design, the awning extends too far out. We can’t perform a rescue from the fifth or seventh floors. The only way is to go through the sixth-floor apartment, cut through the security bars, and pull the child in.” “Then what are you waiting for?! Break down the door!” Jenna shrieked. “We can’t do that,” the captain said, his tone firm. “This is a private residence. We do not have the legal authority to force entry without the owner’s presence and consent. We’ve had our team set up an airbag on the ground, but from this height, it’s a long shot.” “Legal authority? A child’s life is on the line! If anything happens to my daughter, are you going to take responsibility for that?!” Jenna railed. “We are doing everything we can to contact the resident. Please be patient.” Jenna’s voice rose to a shrill retort. “She has to be home! This Hannah Price is a total recluse! She never goes anywhere! She must be ignoring my calls on purpose!” The fire captain’s brow furrowed. “Ma’am, please calm down. First, you are the guardian. It is your responsibility to supervise your child. Second, we are doing our jobs. Please do not interfere.” Jenna was momentarily silenced but remained defiant. She pulled out her phone and dialed my number again. Through my doorbell camera, I watched her face, contorted with rage and anxiety. I could hear her curses, picked up clearly by the device’s microphone. “That damn Hannah! Is she deaf or dead? Why won’t she pick up the phone?!” “I swear, when they get Lily down, I’m going to skin that heartless bitch alive!” Her words, her tone—it was all so familiar. The same venom she had spat at me in my past life as she pushed me towards the edge. Only this time, I was watching from a place of perfect safety, enjoying her panic like a show. 4 I calmly watched the timer on my phone screen. In my last life, I held on with all my strength for forty minutes. In this life, I would make them feel every second of that same forty-minute agony. The moment the timer hit “10:00,” I answered the call. “Hello? Jenna?” I feigned confusion, my voice laced with the perfect amount of bewilderment. “What’s going on? You’ve called so many times. I was in a movie, my phone was on silent.” Jenna’s voice, sharp and strained, crackled through the phone, a desperate attempt to sound polite while seething with rage. “Hannah! You finally answered! You have to come back! Lily… Lily fell onto your awning! The firefighters are waiting to get into your apartment to rescue her!” “What?!” I let out a theatrical gasp, my voice filled with shock and concern. “How did that happen? Is Lily okay? Don’t worry, Jenna, I’m on my way! I’ll grab a cab, I’ll be there in twenty minutes, tops!” Just before I hung up, I heard her say to the firefighter, “She’s on her way! Of all the days for that jinx to crawl out of her hole!” I smirked, left the café, and hailed a cab. “The Veridian Apartments, please.” As the car pulled away from the curb, I thought to myself: Saving a life isn’t so easy, is it? On the way, Jenna called again. “Where are you? Why aren’t you here yet?!” “Almost there, Jenna! There’s a bit of traffic, I’ve asked the driver to hurry!” I placated her, but I was in no rush. By the time I casually strolled up to my building’s entrance, a full thirty minutes had passed. Coincidentally, I saw a notice taped to the door: “ELEVATOR UNDER MAINTENANCE.” Perfect. And even more perfect was the bright pink child’s walker parked right in the middle of the lobby entrance. I recognized it. In my last life, Jenna would always leave Lily’s walker and other junk in the hallway to save herself the trouble of carrying it upstairs. The neighbors complained, but Jenna was so aggressive that everyone eventually gave up. I looked at the walker, and a flawless plan instantly formed in my mind. It seemed fate was on my side.

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My terminally ill boyfriend was the illegitimate son of a wealthy New York dynasty. And I was just a girl who ran a grill at a street food market. Joseph Mendel was frail and sickly, and while I supported him, I always gave him the very best of everything I could afford. But when his family’s twelve Rolls-Royces pulled up to our rundown apartment building to welcome him back into the fold, he abandoned me and took my roommate instead. When a reporter asked him, “Who is this young lady to you?” Joseph replied, “Just the maid who’s been taking care of me.” Later, he became the revered Mr. Mendel, a titan of New York finance, and I turned around and married his arch-rival. On my wedding night, Joseph had me abducted. “Why would you marry that scar-faced monster?” he demanded. “Because he never treated me like a maid.” Joseph sneered. “Is that all you aspire to be?” I nodded. “Yes. That’s all.” 1 The day the Mendel family came for Joseph, twelve Rolls-Royces lined the narrow street to my building. Reporters armed with cameras and microphones had formed a media circus, blocking the entire entrance. I had to abandon my food cart after my shift and walk the rest of the way. My neighbor, Vanessa, saw me and grabbed my arm excitedly. “Stella, you’ve hit the jackpot! Your Joseph is actually a Mendel heir!” “The old man sent a whole fleet to bring him home! You’re going to be living in luxury!” As I stood there, stunned, Joseph emerged from the building, flanked by a crowd of men in dark suits. I had never seen him like this. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that made him look tall and commanding, exuding an air of aristocratic privilege. He looked like a CEO straight out of a romance novel. And walking beside him was my roommate, Sienna. When Joseph’s eyes met mine, the warmth I once knew was gone, replaced by the cool disdain of a superior. A sharp-eyed reporter pointed his microphone at him. “Mr. Mendel, can you tell us your relationship with this woman?” Joseph’s gaze slid off me, his voice flat and detached. “Just the maid who’s been taking care of me.” A collective gasp rippled through my neighbors. They had all seen me buying things for him, helping him with his physical therapy. They all knew he was my boyfriend. In an instant, every eye was on me, a mixture of pity and scorn. I froze. I looked down at my ten-dollar t-shirt, my twenty-dollar canvas shoes, and felt the bone-deep weariness of my life settle over me. I supposed I did look like a maid. But I had cared for him for five years. Even if he’d just called me his neighbor, I wouldn’t have been so utterly humiliated. He walked toward the lead car. After opening the door for Sienna, he paused as if remembering something and turned back to me. “You took care of me for a long time. Is there anything you want? I can grant you a reasonable request.” Vanessa nudged me. “Quick! This is your chance! Tell him to take you with him!” But I didn’t move. I numbly held up the paper bag from the pharmacy in my hand. “Since you’re not dying, how about you settle the bill for all the medication I bought you over the years? Oh, and living expenses.” “The total is… ninety-eight thousand, six hundred dollars.” I pulled out my phone, my fingers flying across the calculator as I announced the number. A wave of snickers went through the crowd. They were mocking my shortsightedness. With Joseph’s new status, what was a mere hundred thousand dollars? I could have asked for millions, and he would have given it. Joseph frowned, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but he quickly instructed his assistant to write me a check. I glanced at it. One hundred thousand dollars. He’d even thrown in a little extra. Sienna, now clinging to his arm, looked at me with a triumphant smirk. “Stella, Joseph is being very generous. But from now on, you two belong to different worlds. I hope you won’t be saying anything… inappropriate about him to anyone.” Joseph’s gaze was hard. “I don’t want anyone to know you and I were ever connected.” I understood. He was ashamed of me. He was afraid I’d tell the media he was my boyfriend. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t. Having a heartless, backstabbing boyfriend isn’t exactly something to brag about. Joseph left. The crowd dispersed. Only Vanessa remained, fuming on my behalf. “Stella, are you an idiot? What are you going to do with a hundred grand? You can’t even buy a decent down payment with that in this city!” My face was pale. “But that’s all he owed me…” Loving him was my choice. Taking care of him was my choice. I had loved the wrong person. I would accept the loss. Vanessa sighed, poking me in the forehead and calling me a fool. Back in the apartment, all of Joseph’s things were gone. So were Sienna’s. The place was a wreck, as if a tornado had torn through it. After working all night at the cart, then making an early morning run to the pharmacy for Joseph’s “medication,” I was exhausted. I collapsed onto the sofa, unable to move. “Meow…” Fatty, my rescue cat, nudged my leg and looked up at me with his big, round eyes. I dragged myself up to feed him, then started cleaning the apartment. That evening, I went back to work as usual. Without Joseph, my expenses were minimal. A hundred thousand dollars could last me for years. But I wanted to buy a home, a place of my own. My grill was the most popular spot in the food truck alley outside the university. The college kids loved my food. That night, a man in an impeccable suit approached my cart. “Five lamb skewers, ten spicy chicken wings…” I was used to serving bright-faced college students. It was the first time a man who so clearly radiated wealth had come to my humble cart. I couldn’t help but stare. He was tall, at least six-foot-three, with a lean, powerful build. He was handsome, with a high-bridged nose and deep-set eyes that gave his face a striking, chiseled quality. A silver Cayenne was parked at the end of the alley, its lights on, a driver waiting inside. My romance-novel-addled brain immediately concocted a story: a powerful CEO buying a late-night snack for his young college student girlfriend. I grinned. “You got it! For here or to go?” I assumed it was to-go and grabbed a take-out container. “Here,” he said, and to my surprise, he found an empty plastic stool and sat down. He ordered over a hundred dollars’ worth of food. I grilled and served, my hands flying. By the time I was finished, I was slick with sweat, and he had devoured every last bite. “This is good,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “How are you with actual cooking?” I blinked, pointing to myself. “Me?” “I’m a decent cook. I went to culinary school before I started this cart.” The man immediately pulled a business card from his suit pocket and handed it to me. “Interested in being my private chef?” I looked at the card. Adrian Hunt, CEO, Hunt Dynamics. My gaze turned wary. “Mr. Hunt, you’re not trying to… you know… hire me, are you?” “Fifteen thousand a month.” “Of course, I know a man like you would never do such a thing! Fifteen thousand, you said? I can start tomorrow!” It wasn’t that I was weak. It was that the offer was too good to refuse. To buy a place in New York City on a food cart vendor’s income? I’d be working until I died. The next day, I went to the address on the card, a sprawling mansion in the suburbs. Adrian Hunt himself answered the door. He was in a gray sweatsuit, clearly just back from a run. He unlocked the wrought-iron gate and led me inside. He was all long legs and broad shoulders, and I had to jog to keep up. The estate was massive. It took us nearly ten minutes to walk from the gate to the main house. I scanned my surroundings, preparing myself for any… unwanted advances. Thump. I walked straight into his back. The impact made my nose throb and my eyes water. “Sorry, Mr. Hunt! I didn’t mean to!” He turned, a look of exasperation on his face. “Do you honestly think I’m going to do something to you?” I looked at him, my voice full of disappointment. “You’re not?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. He raised a hand as if to strike me, then stopped himself. “And stop calling me Mr. Hunt. Take a good look. Do you know who I am?” I squinted at his face. “Nope. Never seen you before.” “Tsk…” “Seriously. I’m a girl who grills meat for a living. How would I know someone like you? You must have me mistaken for someone else.” So that was it. The job was too good to be true. The powerful CEO had mistaken me for someone else. Adrian’s jaw clenched. A dangerous smile touched his lips. “Stella Lane. Say you don’t know me one more time. I dare you.” When a man like that gets angry, the air turns to ice. I shrank back, my eyes fixed on his handsome face. An image flashed in my mind: another face, years ago, ravaged by fire, covered in scars. If you were to remove those scars… The realization hit me like a physical blow. I knew who he was. I turned and ran. The next second, a hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me back. My back hit the wall, and Adrian’s face was inches from mine. He pinned my wrists above my head, his body caging me in. “Run, Stella. I’d love to see you try.” I couldn’t move. The difference in our strength was too great. Before Joseph, there had been someone else. The summer I was seventeen, a new student transferred to our class. His name was Leo Song, and his face was covered in burn scars. The other students were afraid of him. They ostracized him. No one would sit with him in the cafeteria. They called him “Scarface” behind his back. His deskmate demanded a new seat, saying that looking at Leo’s face gave her nightmares. The teacher, at a loss, asked if anyone would be willing to sit with him. His long fingers dug into the edge of his desk, betraying his anxiety. As the silence stretched, I slowly, hesitantly, raised my hand. The class erupted in laughter. “Let Stella sit with him, teach!” “The Trash Girl and Scarface. A perfect match!” Back then, my grandmother, who had adopted me, was still alive. She supported us by collecting recyclables. To help her, I would go through the school’s trash cans after class, collecting bottles. My classmates ostracized me too. They said I smelled. Since the beginning of high school, I had always sat alone. The teacher knew my situation and scolded them, but it was no use. They still called me “Trash Girl.” Now, ignoring their jeers, I clutched the hem of my shirt and asked Leo nervously, “Leo, would you… would you be okay with me being your deskmate?” I was afraid he would be disgusted by the way I smelled. But he nodded emphatically. “As long as you’re not scared of me, I’d love that.” We became friends. He was brilliant, always at the top of our class. He tutored me, and I brought him my grandmother’s homemade rice dumplings. When bullies from another school cornered him, I grabbed a baseball bat and fought them off. When I had no money for lunch, he shared his allowance with me. In our senior year, he asked me to be his girlfriend. He asked me to apply to the same Ivy League school as him. I said yes. But the night before the application deadline, I was working as a waitress at a five-star hotel. I saw Leo there with his family. And with them was a beautiful girl who sat next to him. As their parents went to the restroom, I overheard them talking about how the girl would be accompanying Leo abroad that summer for his reconstructive surgeries. And when they returned, they would be engaged. I felt a crushing wave of inferiority. I went home, changed my university application, and sent Leo a single text: I’ve fallen for someone else. We’re breaking up. Then, I blocked his number and all his social media accounts. No one knew where I went to college. And I never heard from Leo Song again. “If I hadn’t seen you in the background of that news report about Joseph Mendel, I still wouldn’t know you were back in New York,” Adrian said, his voice tight with anger. “The ‘someone else’… it was Joseph, wasn’t it?” I never thought he would remember the lie I told him all these years. I struggled against his grip. “It doesn’t matter who it was. I broke up with you, remember?” “Am I a dog you can just throw away?” he roared. Just then, the front door opened. A beautiful girl in a designer dress walked in. She looked like a princess. I recognized her. She was the girl from the hotel, all those years ago. The girl their parents wanted him to marry. So, he had a fiancée and he was still harassing me? Did everyone think I was a pushover? “Stella Lane?” the girl exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Adrian, you finally found her!” Adrian? What was their relationship? Adrian nodded, gesturing to the girl. “This is Clarissa Mendel. Joseph’s sister.” “And Stella,” he began, but Clarissa had already skipped over and linked her arm with mine. “I know! Adrian’s girlfriend!” I froze. He had told everyone I was his girlfriend? When I was with Joseph, he had been healthy. Then he was in a car accident. He became convinced that the matriarch of the Mendel family was trying to eliminate him, so he started faking his illness to appear non-threatening. I didn’t know. I saved every penny to pay for his check-ups, his medication. Thousands of dollars at a time. I felt that as his girlfriend, it was my responsibility to take care of him, no matter what. But it was all a lie. He was welcomed back into his family, and he told the world I was just his maid. A surge of emotion washed over me as I looked at Adrian. Had I misunderstood him all those years ago? Clarissa leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Adrian may like you, but I’m the one the Hunt family chose to be his fiancée. Take a look at yourself. Do you really think you’re good enough for him now? He’s not the ‘Scarface’ he used to be. But you’re still the girl who stinks of grilled meat.” I flinched and pulled my arm away. Clarissa immediately stumbled backward and fell to the floor, her eyes wide and innocent. “Stella, why did you push me?” My head snapped toward Adrian. This was it. The classic scene from a novel where the innocent heroine is framed by the scheming rival. But just as I braced myself for his anger, Adrian looked down at Clarissa with a complicated expression. “Do you think I’m blind?” he said, his voice flat. “Stella didn’t even touch you. What’s with the drama? I told you not to come here. Now you’re putting on a show in front of my girlfriend?” He took my hand and pulled me into the house, leaving a stunned Clarissa on the floor. The mansion was staffed with servants, but none of them gave me a second glance. Adrian poured me a glass of water himself and told me to sit. “Stella, tell me. That text you sent me all those years ago… it was a lie, wasn’t it? You weren’t in love with someone else.” Yes, and no. The text was a lie. But I did fall in love with someone else later. Joseph pursued me, but I cared for him for five years. There were feelings. I wouldn’t deny what I did, even if it turned out to be a mistake. Clarissa was Joseph’s half-sister. Adrian was not engaged to her. It was all just wishful thinking on their parents’ part. I ended up staying at the mansion as Adrian’s private chef. He gave me a room right next to his. I was a little suspicious. That night, I discovered that the bed in my room had no blankets. I went to find the housekeeper. “Everything for you is arranged by Mr. Hunt personally,” she said, her face impassive. “You’ll have to ask him.” I reluctantly knocked on Adrian’s door. “Come in.” I pushed the door open. He wasn’t in the bedroom, but I could hear the shower running. He was in the shower and he told me to come in? Just as I was about to leave, the bathroom door opened. Adrian walked out, a towel slung low on his hips, his upper body bare and glistening with water. I couldn’t help but stare. I wasn’t a pervert, but his physique was incredible. His chest was broad, his abs were sharply defined, and the lines of his hips tapered down in a way that was almost indecent. And to make matters worse, he was looking at me with a predatory, fox-like gaze. After years of being single, I was not equipped to handle this level of temptation. My nose started bleeding. Adrian was startled. He rushed over, tilted my chin up, and sat me down on the edge of his bed. He grabbed some tissues and gently plugged my nose. “You’re pathetic,” he said, a note of disgust in his voice. “Weren’t you living with Joseph for five years? You’ve never seen this before?” “He wouldn’t let me touch him,” I mumbled, humiliated. It was ironic. Joseph had pursued me, but he treated me like I had the plague. Especially after he got “sick.” No matter how well I treated him, he was always cold. But he was incredibly attentive to Sienna. Once, he kept texting me in the middle of the night, asking me to order him a specific brand of bubble tea. It was expensive. Later, I saw Sienna post a picture of the exact same drink on her social media. I realized he was ordering it for her. I was furious. I came home from work to find Sienna curled up against him on the sofa, both of them playing a video game. I pulled her away and confronted him. “Why do you flinch whenever I touch you, but you let her get so close? Who is your girlfriend, me or her?” Joseph covered his nose. “You come home smelling of grease and smoke every day. It’s disgusting.” “Stella, don’t misunderstand,” Sienna added sweetly. “Joseph and I are just friends. He thinks of me as one of the guys.” That morning, I took the longest shower of my life. I even considered quitting my job. But then Joseph texted me: The medication this month is a thousand dollars. Transfer the money. I was heartbroken. I didn’t send it. He texted again: I knew it. You think I’m a burden. You don’t want to pay for my treatment anymore. Fine. I’ll just go die. I panicked, closed up my cart, and rushed home, only to find the Mendel family’s representatives there to take him away. The reason was simple. The Mendel family heir, Joseph’s older brother, had died of bone cancer. Joseph was now the only male heir of his generation. His grandfather would not allow him to remain an outcast any longer. I thought Adrian would mock me when he heard the story. But instead, his eyes were full of pain for me. He pulled me into a tight embrace. “Stella,” he whispered. “Tell me everything that’s happened to you.” There wasn’t much to tell. I had changed my university choice and gone to a school as far from New York as I could get. In my sophomore year, I met Joseph. He came from a single-parent home and lived on a meager allowance. While his roommates wore designer sneakers, he had worn the same ten-dollar pair for two years. I was already working part-time, not only supporting myself but also sending money home to my grandmother. I was an orphan, abandoned as a baby. My grandmother was the only family I had ever known. Then, one day, she was gone. She was hit by a car while collecting recyclables and died at the hospital. My world collapsed. I had sworn I would give her a life of comfort. She had promised me she would live a long life. How could she break her promise? It was Joseph who took time off school to go with me, to help me with the funeral arrangements, to encourage me to keep going. My grandmother’s settlement was thirty thousand dollars. It all went into my bank account. When we returned to school, Joseph started pursuing me.

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One wrong move and I was sucked into a dark romance novel. The System said I could go home once the Heartbreak Meter was full. I nodded thoughtfully. Just as my wife, Lily, was about to ask for our heirloom watch for her childhood sweetheart, I cut her off. “Sophia visited today,” I said casually. “She accidentally broke the wishing jar in our bedroom.” I waved dismissively. “It was an accident, so don’t make a fuss. She’s like a little sister to me. I even gave her that limited-edition fountain pen set from my study to cheer her up.” The jar was Lily’s 20th-birthday gift to me, filled with 999 hand-folded stars. The pen set was our custom wedding anniversary gift. Lily’s face went pale with shock. The System screamed in my head, until it saw the Heartbreak Meter tick up by one notch. The System: ? I smirked. “You never said I had to be the one getting hurt. Breaking the villainess works just as well, doesn’t it?” 1 Lily’s lips parted, her voice choked with emotion. “Why was Sophia at our house? Why was she in our bedroom?” I put on an air of complete indifference. “She just flew back into the country, so I picked her up from the airport. I invited her over, gave her a little tour. We were neighbors as kids. It’s normal, isn’t it?” “But she broke the gift I gave you!” she shot back, her voice a low growl of suppressed fury. I rubbed my ear, annoyed. “I know. Why are you shouting?” “It was just a glass jar. It broke. So what?” “If it bothers you that much, I’ll buy you a new one.” Lily’s hands clenched into tight fists. “Do you think it’s about the jar? It was filled with 999 lucky stars I folded myself! Every single one had a love note to you written on it. Does that mean nothing to you?” She took a step closer, her voice rising. “And you gave her our anniversary gift? What is going on between you two?” “Ethan, do you even see me anymore?!” Oh, she was getting mad now. Excellent. I adopted a disapproving tone. “Alright, that’s enough. Don’t be so petty. I told you, we’re just friends from way back.” “I only see her as a sister. If something was going to happen between us, it would have happened ages ago. Why else would I have married you?” The words rolled off my tongue, and a wave of pure satisfaction washed over me. I’d always wanted to use one of these classic lines from the genre. It felt damn good. After scolding her, I immediately switched gears, plastering a gentle, caring expression on my face. “Honey, you’re overthinking this. You know you’re the only one for me.” “Now stop making a scene. Be good. I’m a little tired, I’m heading to bed.” Ignoring the thunderous look on Lily’s face, I turned to leave. Suddenly, her hand shot out and gripped my wrist. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes searching my face for… something. A crack in the facade, maybe. I held my expression perfectly still, a calm sea in her storm, and let her look. After a long moment, she let out a slow breath, banking the fires of her anger. “Fine. Just be more careful in the future.” She changed the subject. “Caleb has that big corporate gala tomorrow night. Could he borrow that vintage watch your father left you? It would really help him make an impression.” Here it comes. The villainess finally makes her move. 2 “The watch? Oh, no! Why didn’t you say so earlier?” I exclaimed, my voice laced with panic. “What do you mean?” “Sophia’s having her first solo art exhibition in the city tomorrow night. Her father is attending and they’re doing a joint interview. He didn’t have any decent accessories, so I already lent it to him.” Lily stared, stunned. “You lent it out?” “Yeah.” “That was your father’s! You just gave a family heirloom to a stranger like that?!” See? She knew it was my father’s legacy, yet she was perfectly fine with me handing it over to her boy-toy. The twisted logic of these characters was something else. “What are you talking about? Mr. Hayes is hardly a stranger. He was my dad’s best friend. What’s wrong with me lending it to him?” “Besides,” I added, twisting the knife, “he’s Sophia’s father. When she asked, how could I possibly say no?” Lily’s face was a mask of cold fury. She looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. “Sophia again. You did this… for her.” She opened her mouth to say more, but her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and her lips tightened. She looked up, gave me one last, deep look, then turned and walked out onto the balcony. Must be Caleb, checking to see if his little mission was a success. Too bad for him. I shrugged and headed into the bedroom. 3 When I first arrived in this world, I was so desperate I wanted to strangle the System. This was the most cliché, angst-filled novel imaginable. The hero and heroine fall in love, share six years of dating and four years of marriage, only for their perfect world to be shattered by the arrival of her childhood sweetheart. For him, the heroine, Lily, lowers her standards again and again, letting him frame the hero for things he didn’t do, pushing the hero into a deep depression until he finally jumps off a building. Only after he’s dead does she feel a shred of remorse. The heroine of this story was, to put it bluntly, a total mess. You could say she loved the hero, but she was constantly torn, always siding with her childhood flame and making the hero suffer endlessly because she knew he was devoted to her. And you could say she didn’t love the hero, but after he died, she completely lost it, tormenting her childhood sweetheart until he was a shell of a man, wishing he could join the hero in death. Her whole deal was not cherishing what she had until it was gone, then wallowing in regret. And for some reason, readers ate it up. But the one saving grace was that in this kind of story, the villainess truly does love the hero—me, Ethan. Which meant that when I started treating her exactly how she was supposed to treat me, it would actually break her. So I thought, why should I be the one suffering to rack up heartbreak points? I wasn’t about to put myself through that kind of hell. My new motto: Protect myself at all costs and drive everyone else insane. I’d just beat her to the punch. System: {Damn.} Me: {Never mind that. What’s the Heartbreak Meter at?} {10%. When you defended Sophia just now, she genuinely felt a pang of pain.} I smiled, a wide, brilliant smile. {Oh, we’re just getting started. There’s a whole lot more pain where that came from.} 4 A villainess is a villainess because she’s completely oblivious to how inappropriate her actions are. Without my vintage watch to show off, Lily gave Caleb a different set of accessories for the gala: an imperial emerald brooch she’d won at a high-end auction, complete with matching cufflinks and a tie clip. Caleb, a spoiled heir who coasted on his family’s connections, became the center of attention with that set. He was the talk of the town overnight. After the gala, Lily personally drove him home. Unfortunately for them, they were snapped by the paparazzi. Suddenly, rumors of a love affair between the spoiled heir and the beautiful CEO were everywhere. Caleb’s fame shot up another notch. In the original story, Lily’s explanation was lazy, a simple dismissal of the rumors as a “misunderstanding.” The hero was so angry he couldn’t sleep all night. I figured she was planning to give me the same tired excuse. But she couldn’t find me. Because while she was dropping Caleb off, I was at Sophia’s art exhibition. Sophia was a renowned painter, a graduate of a prestigious art school abroad with a string of successful exhibitions to her name. In the art world, her reputation dwarfed that of a trust-fund brat like Caleb. After her exhibition, I took her to a romantic dinner, and a picture of us was “accidentally” taken by a bystander. And because of the angle, the way I was leaning in to talk to her… it looked exactly like we were kissing. The photo went viral the moment it hit the internet. The buzz completely overshadowed the gossip about Lily and Caleb. And just like them, neither Sophia nor I bothered to issue any clarification. The whole situation was wonderfully chaotic. When I got home, slightly buzzed, Lily was sitting on the sofa in the dark. An ashtray on the coffee table overflowed with cigarette butts. I frowned, waving a hand through the acrid, stale smoke. “It’s late. What are you still doing up?” Thud. She tossed her phone onto the table. The screen was lit up with the picture of me and Sophia, caught in our “kiss.” “Care to explain this?” I calmly set my keys down. “We were having dinner. It’s called socializing.” “Socializing involves kissing now?” Lily shot up from the sofa. “Ethan, do you think I’m an idiot?” I looked up. Her lips were trembling, her breathing ragged. The corners of her eyes were red, as if she was on the verge of tears or rage. “It was just the angle of the photo,” I said, my tone puzzled. “We were just talking. The media is blowing this way out of proportion. Why are you taking it so seriously?” “Honestly, can’t you stop being so sensitive?” Her eyes widened. “Sensitive? My husband is trending online for kissing another woman, and you call me sensitive?!” “Well, yeah,” I said smoothly. “It’s just like those rumors about you and Caleb, isn’t it? Wild speculation.” The mention of her childhood friend stopped her cold. Her face stiffened. I felt a thrill of victory. Pissing off a narcissist was just so satisfying. I softened my voice. “You know Sophia just got back. We’ve known each other forever. It’s only natural I’d go support her exhibition.” “Getting photographed was an accident. It’s not what it looks like. Don’t get the wrong idea.” Lily’s lips were pressed into a thin, white line. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she stared at me, speechless. I walked over to her and, suppressing my disgust, wrapped my arms around her. “Alright, stop it. No more fighting.” “Your birthday is in a couple of days. I’ve already planned the whole party.” “And I got you a special gift. I know you’ll love it.” You had to keep them on the hook, after all. Otherwise, the real fun couldn’t begin. Lily stared at me for a long moment, then asked, her voice tight, “You and Sophia… there’s really nothing going on?” I raised my hand in a solemn oath. “Absolutely nothing.” After a heavy silence, she sighed, the fight draining out of her. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She rose unsteadily and walked toward the bedroom, her silhouette lonely in the dim light. I pulled up the System panel. Heartbreak Meter: 20%. Nice. 5 I planned Lily’s birthday party exactly as it was laid out in the novel. Grand, elegant, no expense spared. On the day of the party, I stood at the entrance in a custom-tailored suit, greeting guests. I glanced back to make sure everything was in place. The six-tier cake and the champagne tower were positioned exactly where they needed to be. The distance between them was perfect. Flawless. It wasn’t long before I heard a sickeningly cheerful voice. “Lily! What do you think of my suit? It matches your dress perfectly, don’t you think?” Caleb, dressed in a sharp navy blue suit, strode up to Lily and casually draped an arm around her waist, drawing stares from everyone around them. “You’re a grown man now, stop being so clingy,” Lily said with a soft smile, gently tapping his arm but letting him stay pressed against her side. He looked less like a guest and more like the host of the party. “Oh, oops, I almost forgot to say hi to Ethan. Hey, Ethan!” he said with a fake smile. “Thanks for throwing such an amazing party for Lily. You must be exhausted. You’ve really outdone yourself.” I didn’t get angry. I just crossed my arms, a smirk playing on my lips as I looked him up and down. “Why are you looking at me like that, Ethan? Did I say something wrong?” Caleb asked, his lip trembling in a pathetic attempt at innocence. Just as Lily was about to defend him, I cut in. “Of course not. I was just admiring your suit. It looks great on you.” A real shame you’re about to ruin it in a pile of cake. Suddenly, a clear, melodic voice called out from behind me. “Ethan.” I turned to see Sophia. Lily’s face froze. “You invited her?” “I did. Is that a problem?” I flashed a brilliant smile and eagerly went to greet her. Right in front of Lily and Caleb, I opened my arms and gave Sophia a huge hug. And I didn’t stop there. I leaned in and affectionately pressed a kiss to her cheek. Instantly, a hand clamped down on my wrist. A powerful force yanked me back several steps. Lily’s relaxed composure was gone, replaced by a mask of sheer disbelief, her brow knitted in a tight, furious knot. “Ethan, what the hell are you doing?!” 6 “What am I doing?” I asked, feigning confusion. “You’re all over another woman right in front of me, and you still claim there’s nothing going on between you? You…” “That’s enough, Lily,” I cut her off, my voice sharp. “Can you stop being so crude? This is just a normal greeting, a custom from her time abroad. Don’t twist it into something ugly.” “And another thing—this is your birthday party. Are you really trying to make a scene and embarrass yourself in front of all these people?” My harsh words stunned her into silence. Her lips trembled, and her voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. “I’m being crude? Show me one wife who would be okay with her husband getting all touchy-feely with another woman! Do my feelings mean nothing to you?” “What’s the big deal?” I scoffed, my eyes flicking pointedly to where Caleb was still standing far too close to her. “If we’re going down that road, what about you and him? You two have been attached at the hip all night. Did I say a word?” That shut her up. After a long pause, she awkwardly pushed Caleb away. “That’s different. Caleb sees me as a big sister.” “And I see Sophia as a little sister. So what’s the difference?” She was speechless. Seeing his chance, Caleb sidled back up, taking Lily’s arm again and speaking in a high, mocking tone. “Don’t be angry, Lily. Ethan was just saying hello. I’m sure a respectable man like him wouldn’t have an affair, right?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm, but I played along. “See? Even Caleb is more reasonable than you are. I really don’t know what you’re so worked up about.” Caleb, who clearly hadn’t expected me to agree with him, was momentarily stunned. Lily was even more furious. She shot me a glare, shook off Caleb’s hand, and stormed off without another word. Pathetic. Once Lily was gone, Caleb dropped the act. He leaned in close, his voice a low whisper only I could hear. “I thought you had some special power to keep Lily interested. Turns out you’re nothing special at all.” “Tell me,” he sneered, “who do you think she cares about more? You, or me?” I laughed lightly. “Is that even a question? She’s crazy about me. Look, I just said hi to someone and she’s already green with envy. Can’t be helped.” My words twisted Caleb’s smile into a grimace. He gritted his teeth. “Is that so? We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” With that, he straightened his tie and hurried after Lily. Sophia stepped up beside me. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” I picked up a champagne flute and swirled the golden liquid. “The show is about to begin.” 7 Every trashy romance novel needs a scene where the rival frames the hero. And tonight’s party was the main event, the climax of the hero’s suffering in the original story. The plot was old and tired: a fake push, a feigned injury, a plea for sympathy, the heroine’s rage, and a forced apology. I knew the script by heart. And I was ready. Lily was chatting with some friends across the room when Caleb sauntered over to me. “Ethan, Lily hasn’t said a word to you all night. Looks like she’s really mad,” he taunted. “You think she’s starting to hate you?” I raised an eyebrow, silently daring him to continue. “And what if she found out you were bullying me? Would she hate you even more?” he whispered. “Should we find out?” Before I could answer, Caleb’s expression changed dramatically. He let out a cry of alarm and pretended to be pushed, stumbling backward toward the massive birthday cake. I just watched. I didn’t try to catch him. I didn’t move. Just as he was about to make contact with the cake, Sophia appeared at his side. She slammed her body into his, knocking him upright. The force sent him stumbling away from the cake, but the momentum carried her in the opposite direction—straight toward the champagne tower. With a tremendous crash, the tower of glasses collapsed, shattering into a thousand pieces on the floor. Sophia fell among the broken glass, a long, deep gash opening up on the back of her hand. “Sophia!” I cried out, my face a mask of worry. I rushed toward her, deliberately shoving past Lily who was on her way to check on Caleb. Seeing the blood pouring from Sophia’s hand, my fists clenched, and I turned on Lily, my voice trembling with rage. “When did you become so vindictive? I told you there was nothing between me and Sophia, but you still had to pull a cheap stunt like this?” My accusation left both Lily and Caleb completely stunned. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, I did this?” Lily stammered. “Don’t play dumb! You put him up to it, didn’t you? Caleb has no reason to hurt Sophia, so why would he push her? It’s because you can’t stand her, so you had him do your dirty work!” I pressed, my voice rising with righteous fury. The long-silent System suddenly piped up: {…You’re a special kind of genius. You’ve mastered the art of flipping the script.} I hummed a cheerful little tune in my head. {You know it.} On the floor, Sophia grabbed my arm with her blood-soaked hand. “Ethan, don’t blame them. I’m fine. It was my own fault for not being careful.” “How can you be fine?” I snapped, my face etched with panic. “Your hands are your livelihood! You’re a painter! How are you going to hold an exhibition with an injury like this?” Caleb, completely blindsided by this turn of events, could only stammer that he hadn’t pushed her. I whirled on him. “Shut up!” Then I turned my glare back to Lily, my voice cold and hard. “Apologize to Sophia.” System: {Damn. Heartbreak Meter is skyrocketing.} Lily’s face was pale, her expression one of utter disbelief. “I didn’t do anything. You want me to apologize to her?” “Ethan, this is my birthday party. You want me to apologize to your childhood friend… at my own party?” My face was a mask of impatience. “When you do something wrong, you apologize. Is that really so hard for you to understand?”

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Three years after my best friend vanished, eighteen skeletons were found under Riverbend City’s streets. One victim had 180 stab wounds. In her hand was a folded note: “Don’t be afraid. I’ve just gone home. If you can’t hold on, you can come home, too.” The System’s alarm blared: [Affection meters for Family/Romance at 10%. Recommend immediate self-termination.] That night, I put on my wedding dress and sent my suicide note to the family group chat. My fiancé, comforting my adoptive sister, replied: “Insane?” My actress mother screamed calls: “Apologize to your sister!” My cop brother accused: “You’re tormenting Lucy by wearing that dress!” No one mentioned the suicide note. They didn’t know I wore the dress not to marry Dan, but to lure the serial killer who murdered my best friend—to escape this 25-year prison of a world. Only my lawyer brother guessed: “Vera, you figured it out. That body… it was Thea’s. Her note was for you, wasn’t it?” I didn’t reply. Clutching my best friend’s photo, I walked toward the hotel, plainclothes officers trailing behind. 1 I sat in the back of the wedding limo, the officers disguised as my bridesmaids and groomsmen looking at me with complicated expressions. “Are you absolutely sure about this? To draw out the ‘Bridal Butcher,’ you could die.” “I know Captain Shaw’s career is on the line with this case, but you don’t have to risk your life…” “This has nothing to do with Leo,” I said, my voice flat. They didn’t look convinced, assuming I was still angry with my brother. One of them offered, “I should give the Captain a call. A situation this dangerous, he should be here with you.” I watched him dial, a faint, bitter smile touching my lips. When the call connected, he started, “Captain, Vera is going in as bait for the Butcher today. It’s going to be extremely dangerous, you should…” He was cut off. The line went dead. A moment later, my own phone began to ring. I answered, my face a blank mask. Leo’s voice, raw with fury, exploded from the speaker. “I used to think you were just spoiled and selfish. I never thought you’d stoop this low, that you’d throw away all your morals just to force a wedding.” He was breathing heavily, his teeth clenched. “Not only are you pushing your own sister to the brink, but now you have the nerve to get my colleagues to lie for you, to say you’re acting as bait? You’re trying to make us feel sorry for you, to guilt us into letting you marry Dan, is that it?” “Vera, you’re just like your birth mother—a manipulative slut who only thinks about men! How dare you use a case this important for your own sick games!” His voice was a blade of ice. “Get over here right now and get on your knees and apologize to your sister! Tell everyone that you and Dan are over. That you’re a desperate homewrecker trying to steal your sister’s fiancé!” I listened, my hand tightening into a fist. When he compared me to my birth mother, the world went dark for a moment. He was the one who had read the case files. He had seen how she stood by and did nothing while my adoptive father, Mark, snuck into my room night after night. He knew that when I had screamed and fought and threatened to call the police, she had smashed a vase over my head, leaving a permanent scar above my eyebrow. Back then, his hands had trembled as he gently traced that scar, his eyes red. He had sworn to me in that same fierce tone, “Vera, I’ll make every single person who ever hurt you pay.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “My birth mother,” I said calmly, “is Lucy’s biological mother. According to you, she should be the one who inherited those traits. After all, she’s the one pretending to be crazy to steal her sister’s fiancé, isn’t she? And you’re all just helping her do it.” Silence on the other end, then the sound of Lucy’s frantic sobs. “Vera, I didn’t mean to… I’m sick, I don’t remember everything, I didn’t know about you and Dan…” “Mom, Leo, Dan… I didn’t know my illness would make Vera so unhappy. Maybe it would be better if I just died…” Then, my mother’s voice, sharp and furious. “That’s enough, Vera Shaw! If you have a shred of decency left, you’ll get over here and apologize this instant! If you don’t, we are done! We will disown you!” There was a commotion, and the phone was snatched away. It was Dan. His voice was cold, impatient. “Vera. Cancel the wedding. Get over here and kneel before Lucy and apologize. If you don’t, I’m calling off the engagement.” I lowered my eyes, my voice perfectly steady. “Alright.” Then I hung up. The officers in the car exchanged uneasy glances. No one suggested calling my brother again. The limo pulled up to the hotel. The moment I opened the door, a sickening stench hit me. Eggs, rotting fruit, and some unknown liquid splattered across my white dress. I stumbled backward, nearly falling as hands shoved me. “Slut! Stealing your own sister’s fiancé! And you have the nerve to force a wedding! Using the Butcher case to get sympathy? We’ll teach you a lesson today!” “Her own mother, a beloved actress, was driven to tears by her! A daughter like this should be beaten to death!” It hit me then. My mother had livestreamed our phone call. They were pulling my hair, kicking me, trying to force me to my knees. Someone was tearing at my dress, holding up a camera to capture my humiliation. “Apologize to your sister and your mother!” “And this dress! You think a filthy woman like you deserves to wear this? Rip it off her! That’ll teach her to steal another woman’s man!” My fingers were trembling with pain, but I lifted my head and shouted, “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” The crowd roared, but then my brother’s and mother’s bodyguards pushed through, forcing them back. Leo’s voice shook with rage. “You still dare to say you’ve done nothing wrong? I told you not to use your relationship with Dan to upset Lucy! Why did you insist on this farce of a wedding? Why are you so desperate for attention?” But as he got closer and saw me clearly, he froze. My dress was in tatters, barely covering me. My body was covered in bruises and scrapes, my forehead and skin smeared with the stinking filth they had thrown. He instinctively reached out, trying to wipe the mess off me. He turned to our mother, his voice low, struggling for control. “How could you livestream that call? How could you lead these fanatics right to her? What if Lucy had gotten dragged into this?” For a second, there was a flicker of pity in my mother’s eyes. But at the mention of Lucy, her face hardened. “She brought this on herself. She deserved it.” I took two steps back, avoiding his touch. “I didn’t come here to force a wedding,” I said evenly. “Whether Dan wants to break our engagement or marry Lucy has nothing to do with me. I’m here as bait. To catch the Butcher.” My mother’s face went pale. Before she could speak, my brother’s hand cracked across my face. His expression was a storm of fury and something else—panic. “I warned you not to use this case, a case involving the lives of dozens of girls, as a ploy to manipulate us!” He took a deep breath, his expression turning to ice once more. “You’re just like your friend Thea—no conscience, no morals!” “She betrayed my brother, took his money, and ran. And when she got scared of being caught, she planted that fake note on a real victim’s body, trying to fake her own death! I keep telling Liam that body isn’t Thea, but that idiot actually believed it. He’s been drinking himself into a stupor instead of working the case!” The crowd started jeering again. “Thea? Wasn’t she that gold-digger who ran off with all that money a few years back? I remember her nudes were all over those shady marketplace sites, selling for less than a dollar, hahaha!” “A bitch like that, obstructing a murder investigation. She should be dead.” My fists clenched, my heart feeling like it was being ripped apart. Three years ago, Thea had found proof that Lucy was faking her amnesia. But before she could give it to me, she disappeared. Right before she vanished, those photos of her were posted online. I remember her crying, begging my brother Liam, her fiancé, to help her sue. But Liam, the golden boy lawyer who had never lost a case, just sat there in court, silent, and let her lose. As they left the courthouse that day, he had dropped his charming facade and sneered, “This is what you get for messing with Lucy. This time it’s just photos. Next time, you’ll be on a black market auction block, a toy for some men in a third-world country.” That night, Thea cried in my arms for hours. The next day, she was gone. I spent three years searching for her, while Liam just scoffed whenever I brought it up. “She’s just playing games, trying to get me to chase her. Let her play. We’ll see how long she can hide.” Until… the bodies of the Bridal Butcher’s victims were found in that abandoned basement. And the System in my head finally delivered the news of Thea’s death. My Thea. Murdered by the Butcher. The System had also delivered my verdict. My decade-long quest to win the affection of my family and my fiancé was a complete failure. It told me to kill myself, to leave this world immediately. But I chose a different path. I would use my death to get justice for those poor girls. … Dan strode toward me, his face grim. “If you insist on defying us, then fine. As you wish. The engagement is off.” I nodded, took out my phone, and posted a public statement. —My engagement to Dan Croft is hereby terminated.— I held up the phone for them to see. “Is this good enough for you?” All three of them were stunned into silence. Dan stared at me in disbelief. Then he gritted his teeth. “Fine. Then you’ll get rid of the baby, too. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll cause with it later.” I touched my stomach, a sad smile on my face. “The baby’s already gone.” The words had barely left my lips when Dan lunged, grabbing my shoulders. “What are you talking about? How could you? How could you get rid of our baby without even talking to me?” He had every right to be shocked. He had seen how much I wanted this child. My pregnancy had been high-risk, and I had endured countless hormone shots that left my stomach bruised and purple. I had forced down bowl after bowl of bitter medicine to fight off the nausea. I, a doctor who believed in science, had even placed a statue of a fertility goddess in our bedroom, praying to it every day. I wanted this child because, in my other life, I was an orphan. I had always yearned for a family, for someone connected to me by blood. But I also knew that if this child was born into a world where it was unloved, just like me, its life would be a torment. Dan, in his shock, assumed I’d had an abortion. His eyes were shattered. He forgot completely why he had come here, grabbing my hand and trying to drag me to a hospital to confirm it. Just then, a cry came from behind us. It was Lucy, her voice high and shrill. “Dan, isn’t this supposed to be our wedding day? Why are you holding her hand? Why is she wearing a wedding dress?” “Vera, did you call me here just to show me Dan betraying me? I hate you! I hate you both!” She turned and ran, sobbing, straight into the street. My brother shouted her name. My mother slapped me again. “What did you call her here for? Are you not happy until you’ve driven her completely insane? If anything happens to Lucy today because of you, we are finished!” “Dan, stop her!” Dan threw my hand away. I fell backward, the gravel tearing through what was left of my dress, scraping my knees raw. I sat on the ground, a bitter smile on my face, and watched them all run after Lucy. I had seen their backs turned to me like this so many times before. When I first came to this family, there had been a brief, beautiful time. Mom would cook for me, smiling. Leo would buy me ice cream after school. Liam would pull me into his room to play his favorite video games. Everything changed the day I started dating the boy next door, Dan. Lucy started having episodes. She would cry and scream that I was threatening her, that I was going to send her back to my abusive adoptive parents. “Vera said it’s not fair!” she would wail, tears streaming down her face. “Why should she have to suffer while I get to live her good life? She said she’s going to make my life a living hell, too!” At first, they would try to soothe her. Mom would say, “That’s not possible, darling. Vera would never say that.” Leo would defend me. “She’s a good kid.” Liam would add, “You must have misunderstood her, Lucy.” But over time, my mother and youngest brother started to side with her. During Lucy’s tantrums, they would turn on me, their faces cold. “When are you going to stop? Do you enjoy tormenting her like this?” “We never should have brought you back. You’ve ruined this family.” Back then, Leo would still stand up for me. He told them about my volunteer work, helping girls who had been abused. “How could a kind person like Vera say something so cruel? Mom, you’re being unfair!” He would take me out of the house, away from the tension. Once, on my birthday, Lucy threw a massive fit, forbidding me from celebrating. Leo just came and picked me up. He bought me a cake and used his own money to buy me a white dress. “It’s your birthday tomorrow,” he said, ruffling my hair. “I’m taking you to Disneyland. Don’t think about any of that other nonsense. I will always believe you, Vera. I’ll always be on your side.” But it all ended the next day. I had taken the day off from work to surprise Leo. On my way home, my adoptive father, just released from prison, cornered me in an alley. It was a dark, damp place that smelled of peeling paint and mold. He dragged me into the shadows, snarling, “You little bitch. You dared to call the cops on me. I’ll teach you a lesson.” I struggled, but he kicked me to the ground. He snatched the cake box from my hands and stomped on it, the cream and frosting mixing with the grime on the pavement like a pool of blood. He beat me until I was dizzy, tearing my new dress. In that moment, I felt like I was back in that hell I had escaped from. When I came to, I ran to find my brother, clutching my wounds. He was sitting outside a hospital room. I threw myself at him, crying, “Leo, help me…” Before I could finish, he slapped me. It was the first time he had ever hit me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the hospital room, forcing me to my knees in front of Lucy’s bed. “I can’t believe how good you are at pretending,” he spat, his voice laced with disgust. “You actually paid that animal to attack your own sister!” Tears streamed down my face. “No… it wasn’t me…” But he didn’t believe me. He just looked at me with cold disappointment. “I can’t believe they turned you into this. Now Lucy’s had a complete breakdown because of you! You will spend the rest of your life atoning for this, Vera. You will live with this guilt forever.” My mother stood by, her face blank. Even Dan looked at me with cold eyes and said, “I’m so disappointed in you.” After that, he spent almost every day with Lucy, saying he was making amends on my behalf. For the longest time, I thought my adoptive father had lied to get revenge on me. Until Thea overheard Lucy on the phone with a friend. She was laughing. “Of course I’m fine! It was all an act. A little bit of money and that old drunk was happy to play along. I told you, she’s nothing. All I have to do is cry a little, and the whole family believes me.” When Thea told me, I just went numb. … I snapped back to the present. I pushed myself up from the ground and started walking toward the hotel. I’d only taken a few steps when Leo ran up and grabbed my arm. “You did this on purpose!” he roared. “You called Lucy here just to trigger her! She almost got hit by a car, and now she’s fainted from shock! You’re coming to the hospital with us, and you’re going to kneel by her bed and beg for forgiveness! We’ll decide whether to let you go when she wakes up!” I struggled, but he was too strong. He dragged me to his car. A voice in my earpiece crackled to life. “Target’s gone dark. Stand down for now. No need to enter the hotel.” I let out a long sigh. “Roger that,” I whispered, and turned off the device. They took me to the emergency room where Lucy had been admitted. Leo pushed me toward the door. As it swung shut, I spoke, my voice quiet. “Leo, I never told anyone I was going to the hotel in my wedding dress. I didn’t call anyone to meet me there. And I certainly didn’t call Lucy.” “This time, will you believe me?” He just frowned, pushing me impatiently. “Enough with the excuses. Just do as you’re told and apologize. If Lucy forgives you, Mom and I will let this go.” A bitter smile touched my lips, the last flicker of hope inside me extinguished. I turned and walked into the ER. The moment the door closed, a sharp pain shot through my neck, and the world went black. When I woke up, I was tied up in a musty warehouse. The air was thick and smelled of mildew. Lucy was lying next to me. Her eyes fluttered open, and she immediately started cursing. “Mark, you old fool! Are you senile? I told you just to knock her out! Why did you drug me too?” She tried to sit up but found she was tied. “I told you it was just an act! You were only supposed to tie her up! Why am I tied up? This manicure cost me three grand a nail! If you mess it up, can you afford to pay for it, you old bastard?” As she was ranting, something was thrown into the room. Lucy’s eyes focused on it, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream. It was a body, hacked to pieces. It was my adoptive father, her biological father, Mark. A stooped figure emerged from the shadows, a sinister smile on his face. The System’s voice was cold in my head. [This is the Butcher.] Just as Lucy started begging for her life, the doors burst open. A team of armed police officers stormed in. “Release the hostages, or we’ll shoot!” My brother was at the front, his eyes blazing. “Let my sister go!” he roared. “And I’ll make sure they leave your body in one piece!” Dan heard Lucy’s cries and shouted, “I’ll give you three hundred million! Just let Lucy go!”

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1 I was the real heiress, switched at birth. In my past life, I died in a staged car crash. Before losing consciousness, I saw Vivian Forte—the girl who stole my life—watching from a distance. Then I understood the terrible truth. I had endured every insult, believing my birth family would someday accept me. But it was all a one-sided delusion. Reborn, I faced my “parents” again, hearing the same hollow words: “Erica, we’ve come to take you home.” I smiled coldly and slid a ledger across the table. “First, let’s settle the bill: 18 years of expenses—$385,000 owed to my real parents. Cash or transfer?” … The air in our little diner froze. A collective gasp rippled through the neighbors and customers crowded around. My adoptive parents looked like they’d seen a ghost. Mom snatched the ledger from my hands, her own trembling as she waved them off. “No, no, Mr. and Mrs. Forte, please, she’s just a kid, talking nonsense! We never wanted any money, not a single penny!” My dad chimed in, forcing a nervous laugh. “That’s right, that’s our Erica. Always joking around.” As he spoke, he was jabbing me frantically in the ribs behind his back. I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the two people who were supposed to be my real family. William Forte’s face was as dark as thunder. This was clearly not the heartwarming reunion he’d envisioned. As for his wife, Victoria, the flicker of guilt in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a deep, undisguised contempt. “Erica, we know you’ve had a difficult life. We understand you’re resentful,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. She retrieved a platinum credit card from her Hermès bag and placed it on the table with a theatrical sigh. “There’s fifty thousand dollars on this. A little something to compensate you. The PIN is your birthday.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now, stop with these cheap theatrics. Come home with us, and don’t make things difficult for your adoptive parents.” Her words were a slap in the face, a charity handout meant to shut me up. As if my demand was just a pathetic ploy for attention from a girl who’d never seen real money. In my last life, this very card was all it took to buy their way out of eighteen years of gratitude. And I, like a fool, had accepted it with tears in my eyes. This time, I just laughed. I slid the card back across the table. “Mrs. Forte, you’ve misunderstood.” “First,” I began, my voice steady and clear, “my life hasn’t been difficult at all. My parents love me. We may not have much money, but we’re happy.” “Second, this isn’t compensation; it’s a transaction. You want your daughter back? You pay the price. There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world.” “And third, if you think three hundred eighty-five thousand is too much, that’s fine.” I paused, letting my words hang in the air before delivering the final blow. “You don’t have to acknowledge me at all. I’ve managed for eighteen years without you. I think I’ll be just fine.” My words struck them like a physical blow. The Fortes, William and Victoria, stared at me in disbelief. They had probably never imagined that their immense wealth and status, the very things they used to control the world, would mean absolutely nothing to me. William’s lips trembled with rage. “You… You’re being utterly unreasonable!” Just as the standoff reached its peak, the door of their Bentley opened, and a girl in a white sundress emerged. Vivian. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed as she drifted timidly to Victoria’s side. “Dad, Mom, please don’t pressure her,” she whispered, her voice a fragile, honeyed thing, brimming with manufactured kindness. “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, my sister wouldn’t have suffered so much.” She turned to me, her expression a perfect mask of empathy. “We should be more understanding.” She approached my counter, her eyes wide and pleading. “Sister… my name is Vivian. I know you must hate me right now, but… I’m so, so happy you’re back.” “From now on, I’ll share Mom and Dad’s love with you. I’ll give you half of everything! No, I’ll give it all to you! I’ll treat you like my real sister. Can’t we please be a family?” It was a masterful performance. The onlookers were completely captivated, their expressions softening with sympathy and admiration. Look at her, their faces said. So kind, so generous. A true lady. And then there was me. The cold, calculating monster, shaking down my long-lost family for cash. In my last life, that innocent act had fooled me completely. I’d truly believed she was just a sweet, naive little sister. Now, it just made me sick. I slammed my metal spatula down on the hot griddle. CLANG! Hot oil spat, and Vivian flinched back with a tiny yelp. I met her gaze, my lips twisting into an ice-cold smile. “Let me guess,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “You’re terrified I’m going to come back and take everything from you, aren’t you? Your fiancé, your inheritance, this perfect little life you’ve built. So you came running over here to play the part of the loving sister, just to feel out how much of a threat I am.” The color drained from Vivian’s face. I slapped a menu down on the counter in front of her. “Stop the act. It’s exhausting to watch.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Order something, or get lost. You’re holding up my line.” 2 Tears welled in Vivian’s eyes, spilling over and tracing glittering paths down her cheeks like perfect, practiced pearls. She looked so utterly wounded, you’d think I was the one who had wronged her. “Sister, I… I didn’t…” she choked out, turning a desperate, pleading gaze to William and Victoria. Victoria immediately wrapped a protective arm around her. “Erica, that’s enough!” she snapped, her voice sharp with fury. “Vivian is trying to be kind to you! What is this attitude? Have you no manners at all?” I almost laughed out loud. Manners? In my last life, after they took me “home,” they forced me into etiquette classes I hated and dresses I couldn’t breathe in. They tried to sand down every rough edge, to erase every habit I’d ever learned. If I slipped up, even once, they’d say it: “See? You can take the girl out of the gutter, but you can’t take the gutter out of the girl.” Their idea of “manners” was just another word for a leash. “The only manners I know are the ones my parents taught me,” I shot back, my voice ringing with defiance. “You treat people with respect, and they’ll treat you with respect. You try to screw them over, you get what’s coming to you.” The great family reunion ended right there, with William Forte storming away in a cloud of impotent fury. They dragged the sobbing Vivian with them, leaving a wake of chaos. I thought that would be the end of it. But I had underestimated their need for control. The next day, my dad’s supervisor called him into the office. He was being “temporarily” laid off due to “restructuring.” Soon after, the supermarket where my mom worked let her go, citing “overstaffing.” Then, an anonymous complaint was filed against our diner. A sudden health code violation. We were forced to shut down pending an investigation. In the blink of an eye, every source of income we had was gone. My parents were beside themselves with worry, their faces etched with anxiety. That night, we sat in the suffocating silence of our living room. My dad finally let out a long, weary sigh and slid a credit card across the coffee table toward me. “Erica,” he said, his voice heavy. “This is… from your birth parents. They had someone drop it off. It’s the fifty thousand.” His eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions. “They said… as long as you agree to enroll at Northwood Preparatory Academy, our lives can go back to normal.” Northwood Prep. The most elite private high school in the state. The school where Vivian and her older brother, Ethan Forte, were students. I stared at the card, a bitter cold seeping into my bones. So, this was their game. They never cared about what I wanted. They only cared about forcing me into the life they’d chosen for me, all under the guise of “what’s best.” They thought that by cutting off our livelihood, they could starve me into submission. Force me back into their gilded cage, where I could finally play the part of their obedient, grateful long-lost daughter. In my last life, it worked. My parents, heartbroken but not wanting to hold me back, had tearfully put me in the Fortes’ car. This time, I wouldn’t let them win. I pushed the card back. “Dad, Mom, don’t worry about this,” I said. My heart ached seeing the despair on their faces, but my voice was unwavering. “We can find new jobs. We can move the diner. We can start over.” I looked from one to the other, my resolve hardening. “But if you lose your daughter, she’s gone for good.” “I don’t want to go to Northwood Prep. And I don’t want to go ‘home’ with them. The only place I want to be is right here, with you.” Tears streamed down my mother’s face as she pulled me into a fierce hug, sobbing too hard to speak. My dad’s eyes were red, and he slammed his fist on the table. “That’s right!” he declared, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re not going! To hell with them and their money! I’ll go work construction if I have to! I can still provide for my family!” A profound warmth spread through my chest. Having parents like them was the greatest treasure I could have asked for, in this life or the last. But I knew this wasn’t over. Hiding wouldn’t solve anything. I had to go on the offensive. The next day, I put on my faded public-school uniform, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and walked straight through the gilded gates of Northwood Preparatory Academy. 3 Northwood Prep lived up to its reputation. Even the front gates were gold-plated, gleaming ostentatiously in the morning sun. My worn, slightly-too-small blue and white uniform stood out like a sore thumb in a sea of custom-tailored blazers and luxury cars. Nearly every eye was on me, filled with a mixture of curiosity and undisguised disdain. The Fortes’ network was ruthlessly efficient. Before I’d even set foot on campus, the story of my “legendary” origins had already made the rounds. I was the long-lost heiress from the wrong side of the tracks, the charity case desperate to claw her way into a world she didn’t belong to. I ignored the whispers and stares, heading straight for the administration office. But I was intercepted before I could even round the first corner. A clique of girls blocked my path, with Vivian Forte, of course, at its center. When she saw me, her face lit up with a look of feigned, delighted surprise. “Sister! You really came! This is wonderful!” She rushed forward, reaching to link her arm with mine. I took a sharp step to the side. Her hand froze awkwardly in mid-air. The color drained from her face, and her eyes immediately welled with tears. “Sister… are you still angry with me?” One of her friends instantly stepped forward, jabbing a finger in my direction. “Hey! Who do you think you are? Vivian was just trying to be nice to you. What’s with the attitude?” Another girl chimed in. “Yeah, I heard you were Vivian’s long-lost… sister? She’s the sweetest person here. You better not be planning on bullying her.” Vivian quickly intervened, playing the part of the gracious peacemaker. “Don’t say that! It’s not her fault. My sister… the place where she grew up was… a lot simpler. She’s just not used to this environment. We should be patient with her.” With just a few carefully chosen words, she had painted me as the jealous, uncivilized rube from the sticks, while she remained the kind, benevolent princess, suffering my brutishness with a saintly grace. The crowd of onlookers grew, their whispers turning into a low hum of judgment. “So that’s the real heiress? She looks so… cheap.” “Right? Compared to Vivian, she’s like a different species.” “God, how embarrassing. If I were her, I’d just leave.” I stared at Vivian’s perfectly crafted mask of innocence, feeling nothing but a profound sense of boredom. In my last life, her little games had worked perfectly, isolating me until I became the paranoid, bitter person everyone already believed I was. This time, her high-school theatrics were just pathetic. Just then, the crowd parted, and a tall, handsome boy strode through. He wore the student council uniform, the president’s badge pinned neatly to his chest. His expression was one of innate, casual arrogance. It was her older brother, Ethan Forte. The moment he appeared, Vivian’s tears overflowed. “Ethan…” she whimpered, scurrying to hide behind him like a frightened kitten. Ethan didn’t even glance at me. He just frowned, patting Vivian’s shoulder with practiced concern. Then, his cold eyes finally found mine. “You. Come with me.” He led me to the deserted rooftop. The wind was strong, whipping at the hem of his perfectly pressed blazer. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing to get into Northwood, but you need to understand something,” he said, his voice low and menacing as he looked down at me. “Vivian is the most precious person in this family. She’s pure, kind, and incredibly sensitive. If you do anything to hurt her, I swear, I have a hundred ways to make your life a living hell here.” It was the exact same speech he’d given me in my past life. Word for word. Back then, his threat had terrified me. I’d stammered and tried to explain, but he hadn’t listened. But now… I lifted my chin, meeting his icy gaze without flinching. “Are you done?” I asked calmly. Ethan blinked, thrown off balance. This was clearly not the reaction he’d expected. I took a step closer, closing the distance between us. My voice was quiet, but every word was a shard of ice. “First, I’m not here for you, or for Vivian, or for the Forte family. So you can take your self-important warnings and shove them.” “Second, her being ‘pure and kind’?” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “That’s not kindness. That’s because you’re blind.” “And finally,” I said, watching his face slowly turn crimson with rage, “you need to control your little sister. Tell her to stay away from me.” “Because if she tries anything again, I can’t guarantee that precious, innocent little mask of hers will stay in one piece.” 4 Ethan’s face went from red to a deep, mottled purple. He’d probably never been spoken to like that in his entire privileged life, especially not by someone he considered to be nothing more than trailer trash. He lunged forward, radiating a palpable fury. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?” “Who am I?” I met his rage with unnerving calm. “You’ve already had me thoroughly investigated, haven’t you? I’m Erica Harris. Eighteen years old. Your biological sister. And the single greatest threat to your precious Vivian’s fairy-tale life.” Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him seething on the rooftop. I could hear his enraged shout behind me, but I didn’t look back. There was no point in reasoning with people like this. They only understood one thing: power. The only way to make them feel anything was to systematically dismantle everything they held dear, piece by painful piece. In the days that followed, I became the laughingstock of Northwood Prep. Under Ethan’s direction, no one dared to speak to me. My desk was regularly filled with trash, and my homework would mysteriously disappear. Vivian, meanwhile, followed me around with her entourage, constantly putting on a show of sisterly affection that only made me look colder and more ungrateful. I ignored it all. I was just biding my time. Soon, it was time for the school’s annual Arts Festival. The grand finale, as always, was a piano solo by the one and only Vivian Forte. When I saw the program and the title of her piece—a composition she was claiming as her own, retitled “Awakening”—a sharp, familiar pain lanced through my heart. The song’s real name was “Echoes of Home.” My adoptive mother had once been the most promising student at her music conservatory, with dreams of becoming a composer. But she had given it all up. To adopt me, to pay for my childhood medical bills, to give me a chance at a good life, she and my dad had abandoned their stable careers to run a small diner, working themselves to the bone day and night. Her dreams were ground to dust by the harsh realities of life. She never touched a piano again. “Echoes of Home” was the only complete piece she ever wrote—the embodiment of her lost youth, her sacrificed dreams. She had only ever taught it to me, and the hand-written score was the most precious gift she had ever given me. This time, I had locked the score away in a hidden drawer. I never thought Vivian would find it. But she had. She hadn’t just stolen my mother’s dream; she was about to use it to build her own pedestal of fame and glory. I would not let that happen. The night of the festival, the auditorium was packed. William and Victoria Forte sat in the front row, center stage, their faces beaming with pride. Vivian, dressed in a flowing white gown, floated to the Steinway grand piano at the center of the stage. The spotlight followed her, making her look ethereal, almost angelic. She gave a graceful bow, her eyes flickering for a split second in my direction where I stood in the shadows. Then she sat, her slender fingers caressing the keys. The familiar, haunting melody filled the hall. When she finished, the auditorium erupted in thunderous applause. The host rushed onto the stage, breathless with excitement. “That was simply breathtaking! Vivian, I heard that you composed this piece, ‘Awakening,’ yourself. Can you tell us about your inspiration?” Vivian took the microphone, a perfect, practiced smile on her face. She was just about to speak when I emerged from the darkness and walked onto the stage. Every head in the auditorium turned. Every spotlight swung to find me. The smile on Vivian’s face froze. “Sister? What are you—?” I ignored her. I took the microphone from the stunned host’s hand and faced the audience. “A beautiful performance,” I said, my voice ringing out with perfect clarity. I paused, my gaze sweeping over the shifting, uneasy faces of the Fortes before landing squarely on Vivian’s ghostly pale one. “Too bad it’s not original.” “In fact,” I continued, my voice dropping into a deadly calm, “it was stolen. By a thief. From my home.” A shocked gasp swept through the crowd. Before anyone could react, I pulled a folded document from my pocket and held it up for the stage cameras to capture. “This song’s real name is ‘Echoes of Home.’ And its copyright,” I announced, letting the words sink in, “was officially registered three days ago. By me, Erica Harris.” I brandished the copyright certificate, my voice sharp and clear. “Vivian Forte, what you’ve just committed is not just plagiarism. It’s breaking and entering, theft, and copyright infringement.” My eyes locked onto hers. “So, what will it be? Shall we settle this privately… or should we see each other in court?”

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Isabelle, our class queen bee, kept a public ranking of her suitors on Instagram, updating it daily. People jokingly called it the “Simp List.” I privately complained to a friend, “What self-respecting guy would tolerate that?” When Isabelle heard, she sweetly agreed, “Scarlett’s right. A man needs dignity.” Days later, she flaunted a new relationship with the department’s richest guy. One of her top suitors snapped, blaming me. He kidnapped and locked me in a storage closet, hissing, “You ruined my chance with her. Now die.” I woke to find myself back in time, watching Isabelle announce to the class: “I’m starting a list—a fair ranking of all my suitors!” 1 The classroom erupted. Some guys looked excited, others scoffed, but most were just morbidly curious. Isabelle lifted her chin, basking in the attention. “I’m not some shallow girl who only cares about money,” she declared. “I value a genuine heart. I’ll post about everything you guys do for me on my socials, completely fair and square. Everyone can see it, rate it, call out the fakers!” That just whipped the room into a bigger frenzy. In my last life, I’d heard those words and sneered, “What a classic mean girl hiding behind a sweet-and-innocent act.” Later, when guys were tripping over themselves to get a higher spot on her list, I’d mocked them too. “Have some self-respect. Any guy who’d throw their dignity on the floor for a girl to stomp on isn’t exactly a catch.” What I didn’t know then was that the list was never about those guys. It was all a calculated performance to catch the eye of one person: Jason, the undisputed king of our department, heir to a tech fortune. Jason was constantly surrounded by beautiful women. Isabelle knew she needed a gimmick to stand out. So she turned the dating game into a public spectacle, a testament to her own irresistible charm. This time, I just lowered my gaze, shut my mouth, and pretended to read my textbook. But Isabelle’s voice cut through the noise. “Scarlett! How about you be on my judging panel?” Half the class turned to stare at me. I suppressed a surge of rage and calmly turned a page, ignoring her. “Come on,” Isabelle pressed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “You’re the best judge of character I know. My future happiness depends on you!” The memory of the storage closet flashed in my mind. This time, I just wanted to stay as far away from her as possible. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Someone in the crowd jeered, “Don’t be so modest, Scarlett! The queen herself said you’re perfect for the job.” “Yeah, you’re roommates! You’d have the most objective opinion.” I finally closed my book, putting on a look of awkward embarrassment. “I really can’t.” “I’m… not a good judge of men.” I took a deep breath. “Because… I like women.” 2 Within a few hours, two pieces of gossip were tearing through campus. The first was Isabelle’s “Simp List,” which had just gone live on her Instagram. The second was my very public coming out. Of course, my news was just a minor ripple. The real tidal wave was the list. The students had officially christened it the first “Simp List” in school history. To my surprise, way more guys participated this time than in my last life. “I can’t believe how many friend requests I’m getting!” Isabelle shrieked from her bed in our dorm room. Our other roommate, Maya, watched her with a toxic mix of envy and admiration. I tried to focus on my homework, but I couldn’t help but feel a grim sense of foreboding. Isabelle was so wrapped up in her own drama that she was completely oblivious to the silent fury building among the other girls on campus—girls whose crushes were now publicly debasing themselves for a spot on her list. Isabelle lounged on her bed like a queen on her throne. The tablet in her hands, the plush rug by her bed, the expensive skincare products on her desk… all gifts from her new legion of admirers. “I thought you said you weren’t materialistic,” Maya muttered, her voice sour. Isabelle immediately tapped out a new post. [IsabelleSterling]: Apparently, accepting a few small gifts means I’m a gold digger now? lol. Am I just spoiled, or are some people just not used to being shown affection? The picture was a cartoon bear with a single tear rolling down its cheek. A moment later, Maya’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and her face flushed. She snatched up her phone and hurried out of the room. She returned a few minutes later, her eyes red and puffy. “What’s wrong?” our fourth roommate, Zoe, asked. Maya just bit her lip, pulled her bed curtain shut, and a moment later, we could hear the sound of muffled sobs. Isabelle, meanwhile, was cooing into her phone. “Oh, I’m not mad at all! Is that your genuine heart you’re offering? Because I’ve got a lot of genuine hearts to choose from right now… Really? Yours is more sincere?…” My pen froze for a second, but I kept my head down. It wasn’t until later that evening that Isabelle addressed the room. “Hey, the guys are taking us out for karaoke tonight! Everyone should come!” “The guys,” of course, meant the simps. Maya didn’t answer. I wrinkled my nose. “I think I’ll pass. Too much testosterone in one room for me.” No matter how much she wheedled, I refused. Finally, she gave me a long, speculative look, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You know, Scarlett, I never would have guessed you were into girls. Are you sure you’re not just… jealous?” I looked up, genuinely confused. “Jealous of what?” Isabelle ticked the points off on her fingers. “One, that I have so many guys after me? Or two, maybe the guy you like is on my list, so you couldn’t handle it and just decided to swear off men altogether?” I gave her an epic eye-roll. “Please. I’m not into guys. And besides,” I added, my voice dripping with disdain, “I’m attracted to brains.” Isabelle’s face flushed, then paled. When she left for karaoke, she didn’t ask me or Maya again. 3 Later that night, Maya’s voice came from behind her curtain. “Scarlett, have you seen Isabelle’s latest post?” I shook my head and pulled out my phone. “What now?” Her new post was a candid shot of me, sitting at my desk, engrossed in a book. The caption read: [IsabelleSterling]: My super-smart roomie says she’s only attracted to guys with brains… Ugh, does that mean she thinks I’m shallow? The comment section was already flooded with her defenders. isnt she a lesbian? why is she suddenly interested in guys? if she was so smart she’d be at an ivy league school, not here lol Don’t listen to her Izzy, you’re perfect! I was shaking with rage. “You need to be more careful what you say around her,” Maya whispered from her bed. “She’s… not a good person.” It took several deep breaths to calm my racing heart. I was too agitated to study, so I just climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Why did you provoke her? Haven’t you learned your lesson? Just stay away! From that night on, I made a conscious effort to avoid Isabelle. I gave one-word answers to her questions. If I had to speak, I chose my words with surgical precision. I started a countdown in my journal. 47 days. 47 days until she and Jason made their relationship official. Then, I would finally be free. While I was walking on eggshells, Isabelle’s life was getting better every day. She was true to her word, publicly ranking the guys’ efforts. Every day, she’d post a nine-photo grid on her Instagram, showcasing the top contenders. Thanks to them, life in our dorm room got a major upgrade. Three gourmet breakfasts, three artisanal bubble teas, three fresh fruit platters, all delivered daily like clockwork. One of the guys even bought all three of us access to a hyped-up new video game after Isabelle casually mentioned wanting to play it. “You guys are lucky you’re my roommates,” she’d say with magnanimous flair. “I don’t mind sharing the perks.” I refused everything. I was either on my period, had a stomachache, or was suddenly allergic. As for the game, I was too busy studying to even think about it. The memories of my last life were burned into my soul. I wanted nothing to do with Isabelle Sterling ever again. 4 The countdown was at 33 days when it happened. Jason, the rich kid, was hanging out in the hallway with a few of his friends. I tried to walk past them without being noticed. One of the guys pointed at me. “Hey, aren’t you in the same class as that girl with the Simp List? What’s-her-name?” Jason glanced over, a bored expression on his face. “Tsk. That’s Scarlett. Top three in their class.” He raised his voice. “Scarlett.” I didn’t answer, just gave a curt nod and quickened my pace. I could feel their eyes on my back, could hear them whispering and laughing. I finally made it to the classroom and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. But when I turned, I saw Isabelle staring at me from across the room, her eyes dark and unreadable. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I shot her a questioning look, but she just gave me a tight, humorless smile before turning away. For the next two nights, I barely slept, waking up from nightmares in a cold sweat. “You keep having nightmares,” Maya said, her face etched with concern. “You’re mumbling in your sleep, something about ‘it’s not my fault.’ Is everything okay?” I didn’t answer, just stared at a new water bottle on Isabelle’s desk. Maya followed my gaze and grimaced. “I don’t know what her deal is. Normally she only accepts designer brands, but today she came back with that cheap thing.” An icy dread washed over me. I knew who gave her that water bottle. 5 In my last life, the pool of guys competing for Isabelle’s attention wasn’t that big. It was mostly the same five or six guys. One of them, however, was in a league of his own. He claimed to be truly in love with her and showered her with attention every single day. He was also the one I despised the most. His name was Leo. He had the highest entrance exam score in our entire department. He was tall and handsome, but he came from a poor family. I’d heard his dad was disabled and his mom was chronically ill. They were barely scraping by. Yet he was utterly infatuated with Isabelle. To get a good ranking on her list, he worked himself to the bone at part-time jobs just to buy her gifts. In my last life, I had nothing but contempt for him. He was supposed to be his family’s only hope, and here he was, wasting his time and energy on a rich girl’s cruel game. “He’s pathetic,” I’d said dismissively when my classmates were gossiping about him. Later, after Isabelle and Jason got together, no one hated me more than Leo. He was the one who came up with the idea to kidnap me. He was convinced that my comments had turned Isabelle against him, that I was the reason she’d chosen Jason. That water bottle was the first gift Leo had ever given her. But this life was different. Leo’s name had never once appeared on Isabelle’s list. Why was she suddenly paying attention to him? I was still puzzling over it when Isabelle walked in, a bright, false smile on her face. “Scarlett, you have to come to the cafeteria with me today,” she said. “I have a surprise for you.” I was about to refuse, but then I saw the malicious glint in her eyes. Better to face the devil you know, I thought. It was just the cafeteria. What could she possibly be planning? Seeing that I’d agreed, she practically bounced with excitement, pulling out her phone and starting to record. “Just filming a little day-in-the-life vlog,” she explained as she led me to the second floor of the cafeteria. I immediately saw him. Sitting alone at a four-person table by the window. Isabelle dragged me over, her voice practically vibrating with suppressed glee. “Surprise! I searched the entire campus to find the perfect guy for you! Someone with a brain to match yours! Come on, Scarlett! How do you know you only like girls if you’ve never even tried being with a guy?”

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At the end of the year, while closing the books, I noticed something was wrong. After pulling several all-nighters to fix it, I found the company account was off by a single cent. I spent another three sleepless nights re-doing the books from scratch, only to discover that the new secretary had been depositing one cent into the company account every single day. When I confronted her, she tearfully explained, “I just saw you staying late every night, struggling with the numbers, and I wanted to help.” My boss chimed in, “Vivian was just trying to be nice, Chloe. You don’t have to be so aggressive.” Under a chorus of accusations, I was branded a workplace bully. I was fired. Then Vivian started a livestream to smear my name online. I was tormented until I fell into a deep depression and took my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my desk, staring at the accounting error. 1 Seeing that single, extra cent on the balance sheet again, my mouse met the desk with a sharp crack. I spun around in my chair, my voice echoing across the open-plan office. “Who the hell is depositing one cent into the company account every day?” I yelled. “Do you have any idea how expensive things are? Save that penny! Put it towards your own damn coffin!” Jaws dropped. My colleagues stared at me, frozen. It was the kind of collective shock that only happens when the quietest person in the room finally explodes. After a moment of stunned silence, Leo, a colleague, burst out laughing. “Chloe, who lit a fire under you? Struck out on another date? Don’t take it out on us!” Leo, with his three years at the company, fancied himself the office comedian. My failed attempts at dating were his favorite punchline. My face was a stone mask. “Was it you, Leo?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “It might only be a cent, but it throws off the entire financial statement. If the audit comes back messy because of this, none of us are getting a quiet holiday season. Do you understand?” I was exaggerating, I’ll admit. But the mere mention of accountability wiped the smirk right off his face. “Hey, not me, Chloe. Nothing to do with me.” I ignored him, my gaze sweeping across the room, meeting each person’s eyes. “Whoever did this knows exactly who they are. Don’t make me go through the transaction logs. I’ll give you three seconds to come forward and admit it. Otherwise, when this blows up, you’ll be the one who screwed over the entire company.” I had barely started my countdown when Vivian, the new secretary, burst through the door, flustered. “Chloe, I-I’m so sorry! It was me. I deposited the money.” As she apologized, she was already handing out coffees she’d brought with her. “I figured everyone was sick of the free stuff in the breakroom. My treat, don’t be shy!” It’s hard to stay mad at someone offering you a latte. As my colleagues took the cups, their expressions softened into smiles. “How much was it? I’ll Venmo you.” “You’re too much, Viv! You’re always bringing us coffee, I almost feel bad taking it.” “Vivian, you must be loaded. There’s no way your intern salary covers all this!” Vivian just waved her hand with a sweet smile. “It’s no fun drinking alone! It’s better when we all enjoy it together. And don’t worry about my wallet, it can handle it.” In less than a month, Vivian had won over the entire office with these small acts of generosity. She navigated the social currents like a fish in water. Leo took a sip of his coffee and shot a look in my direction. “You know, Vivian, if only everyone was as easygoing as you. Some people have been here five years and still haven’t managed to fit in.” Vivian blinked her wide, innocent eyes. “Who? Is it someone I know?” she asked, a masterclass in feigned ignorance. A few people nearby stifled their laughter. It was a scene that had played out a thousand times in my previous life. 2 On Vivian’s first day, Leo was assigned to show her the ropes. The two of them hit it off immediately, bonding over their shared hobby: making my life difficult. In my past life, when I discovered the accounting error, I worked myself into the ground for three days straight, nearly tearing my hair out trying to find the source. It was only then that I found Vivian’s daily one-cent deposits. When I confronted her, she broke down. “I just saw you staying up all night, struggling with the numbers,” she sobbed. “I wanted to help.” My colleagues all rushed to her defense. “She’s new, she’s still learning. Vivian is trying her best.” Even my boss, Mr. Harrison, stepped in. “Vivian was just trying to be nice, Chloe. You don’t have to be so aggressive.” And just like that, I became the villain, the office bully. The company used it as the perfect excuse to kick me to the curb. No severance package, and they even withheld my last month’s salary. Then came the online smear campaign. Vivian started a livestream, and my boss and former colleagues appeared as “witnesses,” confirming her stories. The “workplace bully” label stuck. At that exact moment, my mother, back in my hometown, fell gravely ill. She needed a huge sum of money for treatment, fast. But I had been doxxed. I sent out hundreds of resumes, and every single one vanished into a black hole. Without enough money, my mom missed the best window for treatment. She passed away. My father, lost without her, followed not long after. I was tormented into a deep depression, and I took my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at that long string of numbers on the screen, with that one extra cent at the end. And this time, I snapped. You either explode, or you die in silence. This life, I was choosing to explode. And I was taking Vivian, Leo, and the rest of those venomous people down with me. 3 After handing out the coffees, Vivian realized she was one short. She clasped her hands together and came over to my desk. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Here, you can have mine.” I took her by the arm and gently pushed her down into my chair. “Here you go,” I said with a thin smile. “Whoever made the mess can clean it up. It’s time for you to learn about accountability.” Vivian stared blankly at the complex accounting software on my screen, her eyes welling up with tears. “Chloe, I’m an admin major… I don’t know how to do any of this…” “That’s okay,” I interrupted smoothly. “You can learn. Since you were so interested in our finances that you made daily deposits, I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time.” I stretched, cracking my back, and began clearing my personal items off the desk. Leo frowned. “Chloe, this is just bullying a new employee. You can’t just hand off important work like this. What if she messes something up?” He sounded so righteous. But I knew him for what he was: a professional pot-stirrer. And the best way to deal with someone like him is to drag them into the mud with you. I slid his chair over next to Vivian’s. “Leo, aren’t you Vivian’s mentor? This is a perfect opportunity for you to teach her. You two can figure out the problem together.” Vivian’s eyes reddened. “Chloe, I know you don’t like me,” she said, her voice trembling with manufactured strength. “I’m new, I haven’t even finished my probation, so I know I can’t fight back when you bully me. But Leo is a senior employee! He has his own work to do! How can you just dump your responsibilities on him? I can work overtime every day, but Leo has a child at home! He needs to be with his wife and kid. Can’t you just leave the people around me out of this? If you have a problem, take it out on me!” Her brave facade immediately earned her the sympathy of the room—and drew their ire towards me. “Chloe, you can’t just throw your weight around because you’ve been here longer. This is unfair to Leo and Vivian!” “Yeah, I can’t stand it! She just sits in the corner with that sour look on her face all day. You’d think the company owes her a million bucks. Such a killjoy.” “Everyone’s busy. Even the new girl has a ton on her plate. Now someone’s using that as an excuse to palm off her own work. What a slick move.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a faint smirk touch Vivian’s lips. In my previous life, I never would have irresponsibly handed my work to someone else. But I would never forget the ugly look on my boss’s face when he fired me for “bullying,” all to avoid paying me a proper severance. A company like that didn’t deserve another ounce of my energy. “Fine,” I said, my voice ringing with challenge. “Since you’re all so eager to defend them, you can do the work. I’ve worked nineteen straight days of overtime on these books. I nearly died from exhaustion. And it was all because she thought it would be ‘helpful’ to deposit a single cent every day, throwing everything off. I’m not a saint. I can’t just forgive someone for a stupid act that almost put me in an early grave. Don’t stand there talking. If you support them so much, come on over and help re-check the accounts!” I rolled up my sleeves, ready for a fight. “What is all this noise? Don’t you people have work to do?” Mr. Harrison, the boss, appeared, his face a thundercloud. Vivian’s eyes filled with tears. “Mr. Harrison, it’s all my fault. Chloe assigned her work to me as a sign of her trust in my abilities. I shouldn’t have refused.” The others immediately chimed in, painting a perfect picture of me as the villain who bullied the new girl. I waited patiently for them to finish. “You all mention me giving her my work, but why does no one mention the fact that she deliberately sabotaged my work by making daily deposits? This is a workplace, not her mommy’s house. When you make a mistake, you take responsibility and you fix it. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?” After getting the gist of the situation, Mr. Harrison reverted to his usual role of conflict-smoother. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Chloe, I know you’ve been working hard. I’ll give you a half-day off sometime.” Three consecutive weekends of unpaid overtime, and this cheapskate offers me half a day. Before I could even react, Vivian jumped in. “Mr. Harrison, Chloe has worked so hard. Please give her more time off! I’ll cover her work while she’s gone!” The boss beamed, praising her as the most dedicated employee he’d ever seen. He didn’t miss the chance to throw some shade at certain “senior employees” with poor work ethics. Vivian smiled and turned to the others. “None of you need to come in this Saturday. It’s just sending out some materials to clients. I can handle it all.” The others made a show of refusing, but she persisted. “I’ve been interning for a month now! Think of it as a test. I want to prove myself. Please, just give me this chance!” Mr. Harrison waved his hand magnanimously. “Approved.” After he left, my colleagues swarmed Vivian, showering her with praise. Leo declared she was a literal angel. Vivian took out a small notebook and dutifully jotted down everything they needed her to do. She then circled back to my desk. “Chloe, do you still need my help checking the accounts?” she asked. Leo scoffed. “Help her? Be careful. If anything goes wrong, she’ll pin it all on you.” I looked at him calmly. “So, you won’t blame her?” Leo looked at me as if I were an idiot. “Of course not. She’s offering to help out of the goodness of her heart. Regardless of the outcome, you have to appreciate the gesture.” Mark, one of Leo’s buddies, chimed in. “Exactly. Not like some people who won’t even grab a package for you when they’re heading out.” Vivian looked so moved she could have cried. She swore to them all that she would do her absolute best. I had to suppress a laugh. A weirdo who had enough free time to deposit a cent into the company account every single day? I wasn’t holding my breath. Now, it was time for them to experience the full extent of Vivian’s “kindness.”

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1 On my wedding eve, scandal broke. My fiancé Ross Vance had gotten his mistress Stella Reed pregnant—five months along. He called, cold and dismissive. “It was an accident. Just ensure the engagement party goes smoothly. Canceling would humiliate both families, and your grandfather’s health is fragile.” After hanging up, his social media updated: a photo of him listening to Stella’s belly, captioned, “Awaiting our little one.” That night, he skipped our party. On our video call, he was reading a fairy tale to Stella’s stomach. “She needs prenatal bonding. You handle things. The Vance heir is precious—we’ll send the child abroad after birth; you can play mother on holidays. The title of Mrs. Vance is still yours.” I noticed the diamond ring on his finger and laughed coldly. “Ross, we’re done.” “Don’t be childish,” he warned. I hung up and dialed Conrad Vance instead. “Mr. Vance, I heard you’re seeking a new wife. Consider me—the Sterling women are known for fertility. I can give you all the sons you want. One heir is so lonely; let’s give him brothers.” … On the other end of the line, Conrad Vance’s voice was hoarse with shock. “Seraphina? What nonsense are you talking about?” “Nonsense?” I chuckled, the sound laced with mockery. “You’ve seen the news about your precious son and his five-months-pregnant canary, haven’t you? I find him… utterly filthy. I’m serious, Mr. Vance. I’m trading up.” A few seconds of silence, then his voice, trembling slightly, “We can’t discuss this over the phone. I’m coming over now.” “Wonderful,” I purred, my eyes glinting like shards of glass. “I’ll be waiting.” Conrad Vance was barely thirty-five, in the prime of his life. But a cruel twist of genetics had made it impossible for him to have children of his own. After years of failed IVF treatments, he had adopted Ross from a distant branch of the family. The Sterling family’s alliance with the Vances was built on one thing: the legendary fertility of its women—a trait passed down through generations. We were a dynasty’s guarantee. No matter my grandfather’s health, this marriage was a necessity both families understood. But I never imagined Ross, the man I had loved for three years, would knock up his mistress right before our wedding and expect me to swallow my pride and play stepmother. I, Seraphina Sterling, do not suffer in silence. Conrad arrived faster than I expected. He stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. “Seraphina, you…” I didn’t let him finish. I reached out, grabbed his tie, and yanked him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Rising onto my toes, I silenced his questions and doubts with a kiss that left no room for argument. My fingers deftly undid the first button of his shirt, my touch slipping beneath the fabric with an undeniable authority. My actions were my declaration. There was no shyness, no hesitation, only the raw, unyielding finality of someone burning all their bridges. I could feel his body tense, a war raging within him. But in the end, the dam of his reason shattered against the flood of raw, primal need. After the storm passed, Conrad held me close, his voice a gravelly whisper. “I have urgent business overseas. I have to leave tomorrow, and I might be gone for a while. Wait for me.” “And… the wedding?” I asked, looking up at him. 2 He met my gaze, his eyes dark and intense. His tone was absolute. “It will proceed as planned. I’ll be back in time. You are the only daughter of the Sterling family, and you are the matriarch the Vance family needs.” He rose and dressed, leaving me with that promise before departing as quickly as he had come. The moment he was gone, my phone began to vibrate violently on the nightstand. It was Ross, his voice laced with its usual entitlement and a new thread of impatience. “Seraphina, get over here. Stella’s morning sickness is bad; she has no energy. Come keep her company. It’ll be good practice for you on how to care for a pregnant woman. I’m taking her to an art exhibit to lift her spirits.” He wanted me to babysit Stella? To learn how to care for a pregnant woman? The absurdity was so profound it was almost funny. “Ross, I am not your nanny. You have the wrong number,” I said, my voice like ice. He sighed, as if I were being difficult. “Stella is carrying a Vance heir. It’s hard work! As the future matriarch, it’s your duty to learn these things.” The twisted logic of it all drew a sharp, cold laugh from my throat. “Ross, your heartfelt speech is truly touching. We’re done. Who you have children with, and who you hire to wait on them, has nothing to do with me. Stop harassing me.” I hung up. Lying back on the bed, I couldn’t shake the knot of rage in my chest. I picked up my phone, hoping for a distraction, only to have a news alert pierce my eyes like a poisoned needle: VANCE HEIR DOTES ON MYSTERY WOMAN AT ART GALA, BABY BUMP THE MAIN ATTRACTION! I clicked the link. The high-resolution photo was a slap in the face. Ross was carefully guiding a visibly pregnant Stella, his head bent to look at her belly with a look of tender adoration I had never once received in our three years together. My heart seized, a pain so sharp it stole my breath. Three years. My birthday gifts were always last-minute luxury items picked out by his assistant. When had he ever shown me an ounce of this kind of thoughtfulness? Love follows the heart, and his heart had never been with me. I had to get out. I needed a change of scenery. I decided to go for my final fitting for the custom wedding gown that held all my shattered dreams. But when I pushed open the doors to the bridal salon, the sight before me made my blood run cold. There, in front of the gleaming floor-to-ceiling mirror, was Stella Reed, her five-month baby bump straining against the seams of my priceless, hand-embroidered wedding dress—the one that had taken six months of painstaking work to create. The waistline of the gown had been crudely pinned, making it look tight and misshapen. A look of dissatisfaction was on her face as she pointed to her stomach and complained to the shop assistant, “This is too tight! You need to let out the waist entirely, at least three inches! And the bust… it’s a bit constricting here, too. Loosen it up.” That dress represented every beautiful fantasy I ever had about my marriage. Fury erupted, white-hot, in my mind. I took a deep breath, trying to contain the rage that threatened to tear me apart. I strode forward, my voice as cold as a glacier. “Take it off. That is my wedding dress.” Stella flinched, clutching her belly as if I had struck her. She scurried behind Ross, who had turned at the sound of my voice, her eyes welling with tears. “Seraphina!” Ross’s brow furrowed, his tone a mixture of sharp reprimand and anxiety. “Could you keep your voice down? You’re scaring Stella and the baby!” I almost laughed. “Ross! That is my custom-made gown! Six months of work, every single stitch! What right does she have to wear it? To have it butchered like this?” Ross’s eyes flickered, but then his expression hardened. “Of course she has the right. She is the bride. This dress is for her. And what’s wrong with altering the waistline? Her situation is… unique.” I froze. “What?” “You and I will get the marriage license. The alliance between our families remains,” he said, his gaze softening as he looked at Stella. “But Stella is carrying my child. She’s been through so much. I can’t let her be sidelined. So, the wedding ceremony… Stella will be the one at the altar. It’s the least I can do to give her the recognition she deserves.” “What… did you just say?” A tremor ran through my entire body. If this happened, my family and I would become the laughingstock of the entire city. But he thought his plan was perfect. His voice was firm. “Seraphina, I know it’s not fair to you. But Stella has had a difficult time. For the sake of the Vance heir she’s carrying, please, just try to be understanding…” 3 “Understanding?” My voice rose, drawing stares from others in the salon. “Ross! You want me to play a part in this circus? I’m the one you marry legally, but she’s the one who gets to stand on the altar with her baby bump, basking in everyone’s blessings? Is she the one who gets the wedding night, too? And then you expect me, your legal wife, to raise your bastard child? What do you take me for, Ross? Some beggar on the street you can mold and discard as you please?” Right on cue, Stella began to sob softly, her hand stroking her belly. “Miss Sterling, please don’t be angry… I know my status is low… I just wanted to wear a wedding dress once… I know I don’t deserve it… but the baby is innocent…” Ross’s eyes turned to ice, a clear warning in them. “This is how it’s going to be. If it weren’t for my father, do you honestly think I would marry you at all?” I stared at him, the last flicker of affection in my heart dying, replaced by a cold, sharp hatred. It seemed Conrad hadn’t told him about the change of grooms yet. “Fine,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, my voice devoid of all emotion. We’ll see who’s being replaced on the wedding day. Ross’s frown deepened. He clearly hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. A flicker of surprise crossed his face. Behind him, Stella subtly lifted her head, her hand tightening on her pregnant stomach, a triumphant glint in her eyes. Over the next few days, photos of Ross and Stella’s “maternity-style” wedding shoot dominated the headlines. The media, playing along with the “Vance-Sterling merger” narrative, presented the pregnant woman in the photos as the true Sterling heiress. Worried calls from my closest friends poured in. The whispers and rumors in our social circle were like poisoned needles, mocking me as a pathetic doormat who’d “lost everything,” who’d even “let a pregnant mistress take her place.” I ignored it all, focusing my energy on the hospital. Grandfather’s heart condition had suddenly worsened. The doctors had issued a critical notice; he needed 24/7 monitoring. I stayed by his bedside, day and night, carefully shielding him from any news about that despicable pair, terrified that any hint of the scandal would be the final blow to his fragile health. But some things, you can’t guard against. Stella, arm in arm with Ross, brazenly walked into my grandfather’s private ICU room. I was just outside the door, carrying a thermos, when I heard her sickly sweet, theatrical voice. “Grandpa Sterling,” she cooed. She was holding a copy of a high-fashion magazine, pointing to a full-page spread of her and Ross’s maternity wedding photos, deliberately angling her swollen belly towards the bed. “Look at our wedding pictures! Don’t Ross and I look wonderful? You have to be at the head table on the big day to see your great-grandchild!” My grandfather’s face turned a deathly shade of purple. His chest heaved violently, his hands clawing at the sheets, his lips trembling as a guttural sound escaped his throat. The heart monitor began to shriek. “Grandfather!” I screamed, the thermos crashing to the floor. I lunged into the room, slamming the emergency call button. “Miss Sterling, don’t be upset…” Stella began, her voice dripping with fake concern. I shoved her aside. “Get out! Get out with your bastard!” A doctor yelled, “Prep for resuscitation!” A nurse forcibly pulled me away as I watched, helpless, while they wheeled my grandfather into the emergency room. Ross tried to steady me, but I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me! You animal! You knew about his condition, and you still came here to torment him!” Stella hid behind him. “We just wanted to invite him to the wedding…” “Seraphina! Calm down! If you hurt Stella or the baby, can you take responsibility for that?” he roared, grabbing my wrist. “Calm down? You’re killing my grandfather!” I struggled against his grip. “It was an accident!” he snapped, shielding Stella. “The world thinks Stella is the Sterling heiress. If no one from your family is at the wedding, her cover will be blown, and the Vance family will lose face! Having your grandfather there makes everyone happy!” A smile, more painful than tears, twisted my lips. “Ross, are you blind or just heartless? You know exactly what Stella is. Since when is she a Sterling? She’s nothing but a parasite who slept her way to the top, a shameless homewrecker flaunting a bastard child!” 4 CRACK! Ross’s face darkened like a thundercloud. He swung his hand, slapping me hard across the face. The force of the blow sent black spots dancing in front of my eyes. A ringing filled my ears, and my cheek went numb with a searing, hot pain. “Even if you’re the one I’m legally marrying,” he snarled, taking a step closer, his eyes like poisoned daggers, each word a blow to my heart, “the only woman I, Ross Vance, will ever recognize as my wife is Stella! And the baby in her belly is my rightful heir! So, you will show her some damn respect!” His words were a blunt knife, twisting in my chest, and the hatred inside me boiled over. Three years… a full three years. And this is what I was worth to him. Nothing. “You don’t need to come to the wedding,” he said, his voice flat and laced with a final warning. “Stay here with your grandfather.” He gestured down the hallway, and several bodyguards surrounded me. “Watch her. Don’t let her leave this floor,” he commanded, before guiding Stella away. My eyes burned holes into their retreating backs. I could taste blood in my mouth. Ross, you think you can lock me in here and have your picture-perfect wedding with Stella? Dream on. I stroked my still-flat stomach, feeling the quiet strength of the new life secretly growing within me. Under the watchful eyes of the guards, I slowly pulled out my phone and dialed a number… On the day of the wedding, Stella sat before a lavish vanity, her fingers tracing the diamond-studded fabric of the gown that had been altered to accommodate her pregnant belly. She gazed at her reflection, a triumphant, almost twisted smile on her lips. So what if Seraphina was the great Sterling heiress? The darling of high society? Today, she, Stella Reed, was the one wearing her dress, using her name, and carrying the “golden heir” of the Vance family. She was the one about to become the envied Mrs. Vance. As for Seraphina? She was just a pathetic creature trapped in a hospital, watching over a dying old man. Everything that was once hers would now belong to Stella. Meanwhile, in the banquet hall downstairs, Ross was greeting guests, but a knot of anxiety was tightening in his stomach. He had sent out hundreds of invitations. Given the Vance family’s standing, the hall should have been overflowing. But as the ceremony time approached, the vast room was still sparsely populated, so empty you could hear the echo of your own footsteps. The grand scene of glittering high society he had envisioned was nowhere to be found. Beneath the elaborate floral arch, only a handful of reporters from minor outlets were fiddling with their cameras, their flashes seeming weak and unenthusiastic. “Ross…” Stella waddled over, one hand on her belly, her eyes wide with worry. “Why are there so few people here?” The anxiety in Ross’s gut grew into a monster. He summoned a senior staff member. “Get our head butler, Mr. Gable, and the event coordinators here now!” The staffer returned quickly, but he was followed only by a young, unfamiliar man in a standard-issue uniform. Ross’s anger flared. “Where is Mr. Gable? Why isn’t he here?” he demanded. The young servant flinched. “S-sir… Mr. Gable… he’s busy, sir… with the Master’s wedding… He said he couldn’t get away… He said if you needed anything… to… to ask me…” “My father’s wedding?” Ross’s voice was sharp, his face draining of all color. “With who? What are you talking about?” The servant was even more terrified now. “W-with… with the Sterling heiress… Miss Seraphina Sterling…” Ross’s mind went blank, as if struck by a sledgehammer. He grabbed the servant’s arm, his voice a ragged, broken whisper. “Say that again.” The servant winced in pain, but stammered, “J-just now… on the top floor… in the Crystal Ballroom… The Master is marrying Miss Seraphina Sterling… The ceremony… it should be starting any moment…” 5 In that instant, Ross’s world collapsed. He staggered backward, his face ashen, his lips trembling as he muttered, “Impossible… impossible…” Stella rushed to his side, clutching her belly, her voice choked with tears. “Ross, what’s going on? How could Seraphina be with your father? Is she doing this to get back at us?” Ross didn’t answer. His mind was consumed by a single thought: Seraphina and Conrad were getting married. He shoved the servant aside and stumbled towards the elevator. “Ross! Wait for me!” Stella cried, struggling to keep up with her large belly. The elevator doors closed mercilessly in her face. Outside the top-floor Crystal Ballroom, Ross peered through a crack in the partially open doors and saw a sight that shattered his soul. The hall was bathed in brilliant light, filled to the brim with guests. The very same business tycoons and socialites who were absent from his own wedding downstairs were now mingling, champagne flutes in hand, smiling and laughing. Beneath a massive crystal chandelier, Conrad Vance, dressed in a sharp white tuxedo, was leading me—draped in a breathtaking white gown—down the aisle. It wasn’t the dress Stella had defiled. This one was even more magnificent, a flawless haute couture creation that clung to my body perfectly, its train glittering under the lights like fallen starlight. The way Conrad looked at me… it was with a tenderness that could melt glaciers. “And now, will the groom please place the ring on the bride’s finger,” the officiant’s voice echoed clearly. Conrad gently took my hand, sliding a dazzling diamond ring onto my finger. BOOM! Ross slammed the doors open. The loud crash silenced the entire hall. Every head turned towards the entrance, and a wave of whispers rippled through the crowd. “Ross Vance? What’s he doing here?” “Isn’t he the one getting married downstairs?” “I heard that pregnant woman is his mistress…” Ross staggered towards the altar, his eyes wild, his voice hoarse. “Dad! What are you doing?!” Conrad’s expression was calm, almost amused. “I’m getting married. Seraphina is the wife I have chosen.” “But she was my fiancée!” Ross cried, his voice breaking. “This is… this is incest!” I let out a small, cold laugh. “Ross, our engagement became void the moment I learned Stella was carrying your child. Have you forgotten?” I paused, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Besides, aren’t you having your own wedding downstairs? What happened, did you call it off?” Ross’s face was a deathly white. He swayed on his feet. “Seraphina… you can’t do this… you can’t marry my father…” “And why not?” I asked coolly. “You, Ross Vance, were free to betray our love, to get your mistress pregnant, and to demand that I raise your bastard child. Why can’t I choose a better man?” Conrad stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my waist in a clear display of ownership. “Ross, Seraphina is my wife now. You will respect her.” “No!” Ross roared. “You can’t be together! If you get married, my reputation…” “Oh, so now you care about your reputation?” I cut him off with a sneer. “When you had Stella wear my dress and steal my name for your sham wedding, did you ever stop to think that this day would come?” The murmuring from the guests grew louder. Some were already pulling out their phones to record the drama. 6 Ross’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. He opened his mouth to argue but found he had no words. Just then, Stella finally arrived. She was clutching her large belly with one hand and her chest with the other, panting for breath in the doorway. “Ross—” she called out weakly, then her eyes took in the scene and her face went chalk-white. The gazes of every guest in the room fell upon her. “Is that the pregnant mistress?” “Wow, she actually showed up…” “Wearing a wedding dress with a baby bump like that… does she have no shame?” Stella felt the weight of their scorn and curiosity. She began to tremble. She had never imagined that the perfect wedding she had orchestrated would devolve into this public humiliation. “Stella!” Ross rushed to her side. “Why did you come up here? You need to rest!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I was worried about you… Ross, what is happening? Why is Seraphina with your father…” She didn’t finish, but everyone understood. Conrad’s expression hardened. His voice boomed with an authority that could not be questioned. “Enough! This is my wedding, not a stage for your melodrama!” He looked at the officiant and nodded for him to continue. The officiant cleared his throat. “And now, will the bride please place the ring on the groom’s finger.” I took the custom platinum band from its box and, under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, slowly slid it onto Conrad’s finger. “NO!” Ross screamed, lunging forward, only to be blocked by several security guards. He struggled against them, his eyes red with fury. “Seraphina! You can’t do this!” I turned to look at him, a smirk playing on my lips. “Didn’t you say I wasn’t good enough for you? Well, I suppose your father will have to do.” A wave of stifled laughter and shocked whispers went through the crowd. Ross’s face contorted with rage and shame. Stella, fighting through her discomfort, stumbled forward. “Miss Sterling, how can you do this? What about your grandfather? He’s still in the hospital…” “That’s enough!” My voice was suddenly sharp as a razor’s edge. “Stella, you have the audacity to mention my grandfather? If it weren’t for you two animals deliberately provoking him, would he be on his deathbed?” I advanced on her, each step heavy with purpose. “You thought putting on my dress would make you a Sterling? What are you? A shameless, pathetic mistress who dares to play the victim in front of me?” Stella’s face was ashen. She backed away, shielding her stomach. “I… I didn’t…” “No?” I sneered. “Then where did that bastard in your belly come from? An immaculate conception?” “Seraphina!” Ross roared. “Watch your mouth! That’s my child!” I turned my gaze back to him, my eyes full of contempt. “Ross, you’re the one who needs to watch his mouth. From this day forward, I am the matriarch of the Vance family. You will address me with respect.” His face turned an even darker shade of purple. At that moment, Conrad stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. “Today is the wedding of myself, Conrad Vance, and Miss Seraphina Sterling. Thank you all for coming to witness our joy. I hope you all have a wonderful time. Let the celebration begin!”

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Three months pregnant, and Will sent me to prison himself. Before I signed the confession, I asked him one last time if there was any other way. “You’re pregnant,” he said, his voice calm, rational. “You can apply for probation, serve your sentence outside. It won’t be so bad. But Quinn… she’s not like you. She’s fragile. Prison would kill her.” He leaned in, his words a soft poison. “Think of it as an act of grace, for our child. I promise you, Sage, the moment you get out, we’ll get married.” I looked him in the eye. “You once said I owed her a life. After this, are we even?” Will nodded, swearing he would be grateful to me forever. I signed the confession. Before I went to prison, I terminated the pregnancy. Later, Will went insane, screaming at me, demanding to know how I could have gotten rid of his child. “I will not let my child have a mother in prison and a father who’s a monster. The past, right or wrong… I was just a fool. From this moment on, Will, we’re even.” 1 No one came to pick me up on the day of my release. The prison guard walked me to the gate. She glanced at the empty street beyond and asked how I was getting home. I didn’t have a cent to my name. The bag in my hand held the only clothes I owned, and it felt as light as a feather. Just like my life. Weightless. I squinted against the bright sunlight and managed a smile. “I’ll find a way. I may not have money, but I have feet.” The guard hesitated, her hand moving toward her wallet. “No, thank you. My place isn’t far. It’s a quick walk,” I said, refusing her kindness as I stepped onto the road home. I’d known no one would come, so before I was incarcerated, I had studied a map. From the prison to my apartment was a two-hour, seventeen-minute walk. Not too far, really. The city hadn’t changed much in a year and a half. The stadium that was under construction when I went in was still only half-finished. While waiting at a crosswalk, my eyes drifted to a baby stroller next to me. The mother noticed my gaze and offered a warm, friendly smile. I smiled back. “How old is your little one?” “One year.” “So cute,” I said, bending down to make a silly face at the baby. The infant gurgled, waving tiny fists in the air. The light turned green. I straightened up and disappeared into the surging crowd. I finally reached my apartment just as night began to fall. The old security door was coated in a thick layer of dust. I found the spare key in the mailbox and let myself in. On the shoe cabinet sat a framed photograph. I picked it up, used my sleeve to wipe away the grime, and allowed a faint smile to touch my lips. “Mom,” I whispered. “I’m home.” 2 It took me some time to reintegrate. With a criminal record, finding a job was a nightmare. To make ends meet, I took a position sorting packages at a delivery warehouse. A week later, I collapsed on the warehouse floor and was rushed to the hospital by my coworkers. The abortion, followed by the harsh realities of prison life, had taken a toll. I hadn’t been able to recover properly, and my body was wrecked. The days of pushing myself to the limit were over. I had to quit. I registered as a food delivery driver, planning to save up for a couple of years and maybe start a small business. A college degree isn’t worth much these days. A college degree with a prison record is worth even less. The delivery job was grueling, but it was better than the warehouse. The freedom of being on the road suited me. I’d had a good day, and just before signing off, a big order came through with a high delivery fee. It was far, and I glanced nervously at my e-bike’s battery indicator. But I couldn’t bring myself to pass up the money. I accepted the job. The address was an exclusive, notoriously expensive private club. I called the client upon arrival, and he told me to bring it directly to his private room. The delivery box was huge. I struggled with it down the hallway, found the room, and knocked. “Hello, your delivery. Please sign here.” “Just leave it there.” The voice was familiar. My eyelashes trembled. I silently did as I was told, placing the box in a corner. The room was alive with the boisterous energy of a dozen men and women. The corner was piled high with shopping bags from luxury brands. In the center of the room, a magnificent three-tiered cake sat on a table. I was about to leave when a voice stopped me. “Hey, delivery girl, wait a second.” I froze. “It’s my birthday today,” the woman said, smiling. “Please, have a slice of cake. Thanks for bringing this all the way out here so late.” I looked up. My face was mostly hidden by my helmet, so no one recognized me. The woman standing before me had a delicate, captivating face. She held out a slice of cake. Her name was Quinn. She had once been my friend. A sharp pain, hot and piercing, shot through me, so intense it almost stole my voice. I took the cake, my voice raspy. “Thank you.” As I turned to leave, I didn’t see the figure that had appeared behind me. It was too late to dodge. I could only watch as the slice of cake splattered across his chest, smearing cream all over his pristine white shirt. Will looked down at the mess, then up at me. He didn’t say a word. The room had fallen silent. Someone snickered. “Well, that shirt’s a goner. It’s a ten-thousand-dollar shirt. Think you can afford to replace it?” “It’s okay, don’t be scared,” Quinn said, rushing over. She soothed me with a gentle voice while grabbing napkins to wipe Will’s shirt. “It was an accident. We won’t make you pay. You can go.” Will didn’t move. His eyes were locked on me. Then, he reached out and yanked the helmet from my head. 3 No one looks good after wearing a helmet for hours. The room was now utterly silent. Even the music had stopped. I tried to smooth down my messy hair, then held out my hand to Will. “Are you done staring? Can I have my helmet back?” “Sage? Is that you? You’re out of prison? So soon? I thought you were sentenced to three years.” Someone in the room finally broke the silence. I ignored them, my eyes fixed on Will. “Sage,” Quinn said, grabbing my wrist. “Why didn’t you call me when you got out? There’s so much I want to tell you.” I pulled my arm free, my only goal to retrieve my helmet. But Will wouldn’t let go. After a brief struggle, I finally wrenched it from his grasp. “If you don’t mind, a five-star review would be appreciated,” I said, forcing a smile. I put my helmet back on and walked out. “Sage,” Will’s voice stopped me at the door. “Don’t you have anything to say?” I turned, my gaze falling on Quinn. My voice was flat. “Happy birthday, Quinn.” On the way home, just as I’d feared, my e-bike died. I got off and started the long, slow push home. In the dead of night, luxury cars sped past me, but I kept my eyes on the road, carefully navigating around potholes, focused only on the task at hand. It was past midnight when I finally got back. I cooked myself a bowl of plain noodles and sat by the window, eating in the dim glow of the streetlights outside. When I was done, I wasn’t sleepy. I took out my mother’s photograph and began to talk to her. “Mom, are you doing okay over there? Did you get the money I sent you? “Have you met my baby? Is he cute? “Please, help him find a perfect mother next time. Don’t let him be so unlucky as to end up with me again. “Mom… I miss you.” 4 That night, for the first time in a long time, I dreamed of the past. The year and a half in prison had smoothed away the last of my sharp edges. I rarely thought about my life before. Prison was a routine: wake up, work, eat, sleep. The beginning was hell. I would sit on my cot, eyes wide open in the dark, counting the seconds until dawn. But eventually, I adapted. And then, I stopped thinking at all. It’s too painful to live with such clarity. It’s better to be numb. If you can’t feel happiness, at least you don’t feel too much pain. But the girl in my dream was so vibrant, her smile so full of life. When I woke up, a wave of sadness washed over me. How had I become this person? The woman in the mirror had empty, lifeless eyes. I tried to force a cheerful smile, but it felt alien on my face. A knock at the door startled me. I was still wearing that strange, practiced smile when I opened it. It was Will. The smile froze on my face. He broke the silence. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” “I’d rather not,” I said, my hand tight on the doorknob. “What do you want?” He held out a business card. “Call this number. He’ll arrange a job for you.” “Thank you, but I don’t need your help.” He let out a short, condescending laugh. “Sage, don’t push your luck.” I just stared at him, saying nothing. He looked away. “I know you got rid of the baby without talking to me, but what I said back then still stands.” It took me a moment to remember the promise he’d made before I went to prison. The moment you get out, we’ll get married. A real smile finally touched my lips. Will visibly relaxed. “Stop being angry. Quinn said she’s grateful to you, too. We should all get together sometime…” “Will, that was a one-sided promise. It doesn’t count,” I interrupted, watching the relief drain from his face. My voice was soft. “I’m not so pathetic that I would marry a man who doesn’t love me, a man who has never once respected me. “All I ever wanted was for us to be even. “Even if it meant sacrificing my future.” 5 Will left. His parting words were, “Sage, don’t regret this.” I soon understood what he meant. During the dinner rush, I came out from a delivery to find my e-bike gone. Along with it, a dozen orders I hadn’t yet delivered. I stood on the sidewalk, clutching my phone, staring blankly at the street. People rushed past, their faces intent on their own lives. I had to call each customer, one by one, to apologize and refund their money. Then I filed a police report. The officer told me the security camera on that block was broken. They would try to find my bike, but they couldn’t make any promises. I walked out of the station and looked at the string of one-star reviews and complaints on my delivery app. I took a deep, shaky breath and forced a weak smile. I had enough money left to buy a new bike. But what if that one was stolen, too? I crouched on the sidewalk for a long time, lost in a daze, until a little girl with a backpack gently tapped my shoulder. “Miss, are you okay?” I smiled at her. “I’m just a little tired, so I’m taking a rest.” She thought for a moment, then pulled a piece of candy from her pocket and offered it to me. “Here, this will help.” “Thank you.” Fueled by that small act of kindness, I found the strength to go home and start working on my resume. No reputable company would hire me, but there were always smaller businesses with lower standards. But my criminal record was a constant barrier. In every interview, the question was inevitable. “You’ve been to prison?” I would nod. “Yes.” “For a hit-and-run?” “Yes.” “But… you don’t have a driver’s license?” “That’s correct.” Then, the polite dismissal. The HR manager would hand back my resume and say they would “consider” my application. I remembered Will telling me that Quinn was too weak for prison. He never considered that without a license, the charge of driving without a license would be added to my sentence, making it even longer. But that was to be expected. You can’t ask someone who never cared about you to see things from your perspective. Every application I submitted vanished into a black hole. To stop myself from burning through my savings, I started applying for waitress jobs. I never imagined that even those doors would be closed to me. As I left the last restaurant, a heavy rain began to fall. I stood under the awning for a moment, then walked out into the downpour. It wasn’t hard enough to blur the world around me, but my vision clouded over anyway. It was the kind of pain that comes when you’re drowning in misery, but there’s no one in the world you can tell. 6 Will was waiting for me under my apartment building, holding an umbrella. I saw him from a distance and stopped, unwilling to get any closer. He spotted me and started walking in my direction, stopping a few feet away. “Have you accepted reality yet?” he asked. I looked at him, my voice steady. “Will, you said you’d be grateful to me for the rest of your life.” “And?” “This isn’t gratitude,” I said. “You can’t do this to me.” The rain must have soaked my brain. My words were so weak, so powerless. Of course he could do this to me. I had nothing. No powerful family, no wealth, not even friends or relatives to support me. He could humiliate me, slander me, pin any crime he wanted on me. I just never realized he hated me this much. That he wouldn’t even let me live. He closed the distance between us. The umbrella blocked the pouring rain. It also blocked out all the light. In the sudden darkness, he reached out and touched my cheek. This, he told me, was the price I had to pay for wanting us to be even. “So what do you want from me?” I whispered. “You don’t want my love, and you won’t let us be even. So… the only choice I have left is to die, isn’t it?”

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I used to think love was Drew’s week-long silent treatments and my constant apologies whenever he walked away. It wasn’t until he left me for someone else and returned expecting forgiveness that a quiet boy stepped in. “She said let go. Didn’t you hear?” A punch landed. Watching Drew on the ground felt like waking from a nightmare. I finally saw: while I was stuck in that toxic cycle, he’d been there all along—defending me at contests, waiting quietly at my work, taking me home safely when I was drunk. I thought he was out of reach. I never knew that on a feverish night after his accident, he’d murmur in his sleep: “Emily… could you not hate me so much?” That’s when I understood: real love isn’t a cage of rules. It’s someone stepping in front of you, shielding you from the world’s cruelty. 1 I was just drifting off to sleep when my phone buzzed. It was a message from an unknown number. I opened it. There was only a single photo. A picture of two hands, tightly intertwined. I recognized one of them instantly as Drew’s. The other, clearly, belonged to Mia. Their fingers were laced together like vines that had grown into one another. It was the exact same way they held hands in their childhood photos. The message read: “Hey, do you really think a newcomer stands a chance against a childhood sweetheart?” I stared at the screen, my face blank, for a few seconds. I didn’t reply. I just saved a screenshot, then blocked the number permanently. Later that night, his best friend sent me another screenshot. It was a new post from Drew’s social media. “The little girl next door is all grown up.” The caption came with two pictures, spanning nearly two decades. One was an old photo of him and Mia as children, holding hands, their smiles innocent and bright. The other was a recent shot of them together. They weren’t holding hands, but the way they looked at each other was filled with the same warm affection. Mia had left a playful comment: “Am I cuter now than I was back then? ;)” Drew had replied: “Still a little piglet who loves to eat. You haven’t changed a bit.” His friend added a message of his own: “See? I told you, he really just sees her as a little sister.” “He only posted this to clear the air, so people wouldn’t get the wrong idea.” I didn’t write back. I just let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh. Drew wasn’t explaining anything to me. He was just doing damage control for Mia, proving to the world that she wasn’t a homewrecker. After I washed up and dried my hair, my eyes fell on the box of photos I kept with Drew. I pulled the album from the back of my drawer and gathered them all together. I decided I would find a place tomorrow and destroy every last one of them. 2 It all started on a sweltering summer day, but Drew’s expression was as cold as ice. His handsome face was a frozen mask of impatience, his eyes filled with weariness. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Mia is just a friend I grew up with.” “In my eyes, she’s just a little sister. I’m just used to looking out for her.” “Can you, for once, not be so dramatic and jealous? It’s exhausting.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t burst into tears like I used to, the drops falling like broken pearls. And I certainly didn’t rush to explain or defend myself. I just felt a profound sense of futility, as if this argument was a wheel we were doomed to spin on forever. Seeing me silent, my head bowed, Drew’s tone suddenly softened. “Alright, alright.” “I know you get jealous easily. I’ll try to contact her less from now on, okay?” The bitterness in my heart overflowed like a breached dam. I couldn’t hide it anymore. My eyes reddened. Maybe he was right. Maybe their bond was purely platonic. Just like he’d insisted, time and time again. If he was really interested in Mia, why would he have pursued me in the first place? But then, Drew’s tone shifted again. “But you have to promise me something, too.” “Because of your jealousy, people were calling Mia a homewrecker to her face.” “You understand how damaging that is to an innocent girl, right?” The buzzing of the cicadas outside seemed to amplify a thousand times. My heart plummeted. I looked at the face before me, so familiar yet so strange, and felt like I didn’t know him at all. “What do you want from me?” “You should find a chance to publicly clear up the misunderstanding for her.” “She was crying her eyes out over it just yesterday…” “No,” I cut him off, my voice sharp. Drew froze, then anger flared in his eyes. “What did you just say?” “I said, no. That’s impossible.” My nails dug into my palms, but my voice held steady. “Fine,” Drew said, a cold smile touching his lips. He pulled out his phone and, with a few swift taps, deleted and blocked my number. “Emily,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine. It was the peak of summer, but his eyes were chilling. “Don’t you come begging me to take you back.” 3 The next morning, I went straight to the local incinerator. I fed every photo, every letter, and every gift Drew had ever given me to the flames. As I watched our past turn to ash, I went to the school administration office and officially changed my university preference. Only when everything was settled did I open my social media again. My best friend had sent me the location for that night’s party. After graduation, the parties had been non-stop, a frantic celebration of freedom. The venues were always the same old places. I had barely stepped through the door when I ran into Drew’s crew. The moment they saw me, their faces lit up with mischief. “Emily! You’re here for Drew, right?” “Perfect timing, he just got here. He’s waiting for you inside.” “I told you! That seven-day rule is a joke. You couldn’t even last one day.” “Drew’s the man. One word from him and he’s got you completely wrapped around his finger.” “I’m not here to see him.” I frowned, a wave of disgust washing over me. I was so tired of hearing things like this. But this time, it felt unbearable. “Oh, come on, Emily, don’t play coy. We all know…” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I turned to leave. Their taunts stopped, replaced by confusion. “Are you really leaving?” “She’s just trying to act tough. Ten bucks says she’ll be back tomorrow, begging him to take her back.” I let out a cold laugh and glanced back at them. “Don’t hold your breath.” 4 Drew watched his friends walk in, his eyes instinctively scanning the space behind them. His expression darkened. He had distinctly heard someone mention Emily’s name, but she was nowhere in sight. A strange irritation began to bubble up inside him. He thought Emily had been completely unreasonable lately. Starting fight after fight, and all because of Mia. Couldn’t she understand? He and Mia had known each other since they were toddlers. If he’d ever had feelings for Mia, would Emily have even had a chance? As he stewed, his phone vibrated. Drew snatched it up and swiped the screen open. A new message. A small smile played on his lips. It had to be a friend request from Emily. But the name on the screen was Mia. “Drew, can you come pick me up?” A flash of annoyance crossed his face. “It’s not that far, why do you need a ride?” “I hurt my leg.” Mia immediately sent a picture. Blood was trickling down her shin. The cut looked deep. But what caught Drew’s eye was a sliver of a blue skirt in the corner of the photo. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was Emily’s skirt. He recognized it. Almost by reflex, he shot to his feet and strode toward the exit. 5 “Drew, it hurts so much…” The moment Mia saw Drew rushing toward her, her face crumpled and she started to sob. “What happened?” Drew knelt to examine the wound on her leg. “It looks like it’s just a surface wound. You won’t need stitches.” He let out a breath of relief and comforted her for a few moments. Only when her sobs had subsided into sniffles did he turn his cold gaze on me. “You did this to her, didn’t you?” “I don’t know how many times I have to say it.” “Mia is just my sister.” “You can’t even tolerate this?” “Drew…” Mia gently tugged on his sleeve. “You’ve misunderstood. I… I just tripped. It had nothing to do with Emily…” She said it in a tiny, careful voice, her eyes filled with tears, her whole body shrinking as if in fear. Anyone watching would have thought she was lying to protect herself from further harm. And I, Emily, was the villain who had hurt her in secret. “What are you afraid of her for?” Drew helped Mia to her feet. She winced, sucking in a sharp breath as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Drew instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist. “Lean on me. I’ll take you to the hospital.” “But what about Emily?” Drew’s eyes, cold as ice, landed on me. “Emily, apologize to Mia, and we’ll call it even.” I was so furious I had to laugh. “Why don’t we call the police? Let them check the security cameras and find out what really happened.” “That’s not necessary.” “I’ve known Mia for years. She never lies.” His gaze was like frost on my skin. “But you’re different, Emily. You have a history of hiding things. You lie.” 6 Drew was referring to our third silent treatment. After that argument, he had deleted and blocked me before storming off. We were out of town for a Math Olympiad, in a city I didn’t know. After he abandoned me, I had to find a taxi back to the hotel by myself. But I was quickly surrounded by a group of sketchy-looking drivers from an unlicensed cab service. Just as panic set in, a boy from the same competition stepped in and got me out of the situation. He personally walked me all the way back to the hotel to make sure I was safe. Drew had always been intensely possessive about my interactions with other guys. He’d get moody if I even exchanged a few pleasantries with someone. So, I didn’t tell him about the incident. But at the award ceremony, the boy, whose name was Julian, came over to congratulate me on winning. The color drained from Drew’s face. I had no choice but to explain what had happened. On the surface, he seemed to accept it, acting as if it were no big deal. But ever since, he’d brought it up in every single fight. He’d call me a liar, someone who couldn’t be trusted. I used to be devastated by it, desperately trying to explain, begging for his forgiveness. Now, hearing him bring it up again, it was just… pathetic. Was it that he truly didn’t trust me, or was it that, deep down, he always favored Mia? But I no longer had the energy to defend myself. “Think whatever you want.” I turned and walked away. But Drew called out again. “Emily…” I didn’t look back. From behind me, I heard Mia’s whimper. “Drew, it’s bleeding again. It really hurts…” “I’m taking you to the hospital.” “Okay. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” “Can you walk?” “I… I don’t think so.” “Then I’ll carry you.” “Won’t that be… awkward?” “It’s an emergency. Stop talking nonsense.” “Drew, you’re so good to me.” “I remember you used to carry me on your back like this when we were little.” “I feel like I owe you so much.” Their voices faded into the distance, swallowed by the buzz of the cicadas and the thick summer heat. I slowly came to a stop. It felt like a jagged hole had been torn open in my chest, a slow bleed soaking my entire heart. First love always burns the brightest. You can’t just extinguish it in an instant. But at least now, I knew I would never shed another tear for Drew. My phone vibrated again. Another message from a new unknown number. “The childhood sweetheart always wins. You’ve already lost.” 7 From that day on, Drew and Mia were inseparable. Mia’s social media became a constant stream of their time together, a public performance of their budding romance. My best friend even found her secret blog, filled with gushing posts about her crush. It was surprisingly popular, with thousands of comments encouraging her to confess her feelings. Mia had pinned a post to the top of the page: “I’m going to tell him how I feel in three days. Wish me luck!” Three days from then was the end of the seven-day deadline Drew had set for me. He had made it clear, countless times, that seven days of silence was an automatic breakup. For the past year, that threat had hung over my head like the sword of Damocles. I’ve always been a one-track-mind kind of girl. When I love someone, I love them completely. Drew was my first love. He was the one who helped me through the fallout of my parents’ divorce. He was the one who pulled me through the stress of our final year of high school. I cherished what we had, and so I was always the one to bow my head, to compromise, to beg for reconciliation. But I had forgotten a simple truth: When you place yourself in a position of weakness, they will inevitably start to see you as less. I left every group chat I shared with Drew. I deleted all of his friends from my contacts. I made a point to avoid any place he might be. No one, except the school counselor and my best friend, knew that I had changed my university choice. The seven-day deadline was fast approaching. The night my friend and I went to a karaoke bar, I deliberately chose one in the most remote part of the city. But somehow, we still ran into Drew’s entire crew. It was as if they had been waiting for me. The moment they saw me, they swarmed. “Emily.” They surrounded me, blocking my path. I had no choice but to stop. 8 “Drew’s not mad anymore, you know.” “You know how he is. He acts all tough, but he’s a total softie.” “He’s been waiting for you to come and apologize.” “If you keep being so stubborn, he’s really going to break up with you, and then you’ll be sorry.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Then let him. That would be great.” “Emily?” “Why are you still pretending? Don’t you see how serious this is?” “I heard Mia is planning on confessing her feelings to him.” “You’re going to get your man stolen right out from under you, and you’ll have nowhere to cry.” “So you all knew she was after my boyfriend.” I looked at them, a cold, mocking smile on my face. They exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, one of them spoke up. “Emily… Drew really does only love you.” “Just go see him. He’s at that place you two always go to. He really misses you.” “It’s just his pride. He’s too stubborn to admit he was wrong.” “He’s still hung up on that thing with the guy, Julian. He gets really jealous…” I stood there in silence, feeling the absurdity of it all. It was so tragic I couldn’t even laugh. If this twisted game was what he called “love,” this constant need to humiliate me, to force me to my knees… Then I didn’t want it. He could hold a grudge for months over a simple “congratulations” from a boy I barely knew, and I was expected to be understanding. But when he was the one flirting with Mia, playing the doting big brother, was he ever concerned about my feelings? Did he even know what jealousy felt like? But this was just the beginning. Let’s see what happens next. 9 It was almost eleven o’clock. The day was nearly over. Drew chugged his beer, but a restless energy coiled in his gut. He kept glancing at the door to the private room. Every time it opened, his heart would skip a beat. But as the final minutes ticked away, the door remained shut. His phone was just as silent. He’d never felt this way before. For the past two days, every notification had sent a jolt through him. He’d snatch up his phone, his heart pounding, only to feel a crushing wave of disappointment when it wasn’t a friend request from Emily. He had gotten used to her. He was spoiled by her affection. He couldn’t handle this sudden void. Drew unlocked his phone again. His lock screen was a photo of them together. He was stealing a kiss on her cheek, her expression a perfect mix of surprise and delight. A smile touched his lips without him realizing it. A wave of tenderness washed over him. Fine. For the past year, she had always been the one to make the first move. This time, what was so wrong with him being the one to apologize? He opened his social media app and sent her a friend request. “Emily. The old spot. Before midnight.” After sending the message, Drew let out a long breath. He felt a strange sense of relief, a lightness he hadn’t felt in days. Emily loved him so much. She was so good to him. She would accept his request instantly and rush over. After all, she was terrified of losing him. Their silent treatments had never lasted more than three days before she’d show up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, timidly asking if they could get back together. She cared so much. She adored him. A pang of guilt hit him. He knew he’d gone too far, deliberately using Mia to provoke her. The truth was, there was nothing between him and Mia. They hadn’t seen each other in years. After they reconnected, he had just been enjoying the novelty of it, basking in her open admiration. Boys his age were all a little arrogant, a little vain. Having two pretty girls fighting over him had been a massive ego boost. But these past few days, with Emily completely silent, Drew finally realized who he truly wanted. A friend clinked his bottle against Drew’s. He took a distracted sip, his eyes glued to his phone. But after he sent the request, his phone remained stubbornly silent. A knot of unease began to form in his stomach. He sent another request. “Emily, the seven-day deadline is almost up.” Still nothing. Drew’s brow furrowed. He stared at the blank screen, motionless, like a statue. The noisy room had somehow quieted down around him. The air grew thick, and even breathing seemed to require effort. Suddenly, the door to the room swung open. The abrupt noise made everyone look up. A classmate rushed in, breathless and excited. “She’s here, she’s here! Drew, she’s downstairs!” “She looks amazing tonight, you should go see!” The tension in Drew’s face immediately melted away. He leaned back in his chair, a lazy, confident smile spreading across his face as he looked at his friend. “Go tell Emily,” he said. “It’s after midnight. It’s too late. I’m pissed.” “If she wants to make up, she’s going to have to try harder than that.” 10 The classmate stared at Drew, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?” “What Emily? What making up?” “This has nothing to do with her.” “It’s Mia!” “Mia came all this way just to see you!” The classmate shot Drew a knowing wink. “I won’t spoil it for you, but you need to get down there. I promise, it’s a huge surprise!” The room erupted in cheers and whistles. Fresh out of their final exams, everyone was eager for a bit of romantic drama. But Drew didn’t move. The smile on his face vanished like a ripple on still water. At his age, he couldn’t hide his emotions. They were written all over his face. Anyone could see that he was far from happy. In fact, he looked absolutely miserable. The boisterous crowd gradually fell silent. Only the classmate at the door was still confused. “Drew, aren’t you going down?” Drew let out a sudden, cold laugh. “Why would I?” “Mia is downstairs waiting for you.” “And?” “But… she likes you, and you like her. Everyone knows that, right?” “When did I ever say I liked her?” “Unless I’m mistaken, I’ve only ever said she was like a sister to me. Isn’t that right?” “But… you two have been so close these past few days…” Drew didn’t answer. He just unlocked his phone again. The friend request was still pending. And the time was now well past midnight. He exited the app and dialed Emily’s number. A mechanical voice answered. Emily had blocked him. Drew’s expression grew darker. He turned to a female classmate, borrowed her phone, and dialed again. It rang a few times, and then someone picked up. “Hello? Sarah? What’s up?” Emily’s voice. It was the same familiar sound. Soft and warm. Drew’s chest tightened. He really did miss her. “Hello? Are you there?” “It’s me, Emily. It’s Drew.” The moment the words left his mouth, the line went dead silent. A moment later, the dial tone buzzed in his ear. He tried calling back, but she didn’t answer. Drew handed the phone back to the girl. He sat in silence, his face an unreadable mask. He cracked open another beer and downed it in one go. Then he looked at the classmate still standing at the door and said calmly, “Weren’t we going downstairs? Let’s go.” “Drew?” A smile played on Drew’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t let a girl embarrass herself.” “She went to all this trouble. It would be rude not to show up.”

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