I found it by accident. A password-protected blog linked to my husband’s email, an account I never knew he had. We’d been married for ten years. For ten years, I thought I knew everything about Ethan. The blog was a digital scrapbook, meticulously documenting a love story. Their love story. My fingers trembled as I scrolled to the very last entry, a knot tightening in my stomach. But then, the dates started looking… familiar. **[May 20, 2015]** *He said yes. He put my ring on his finger.* That was the day Ethan proposed to me. **[January 20, 2016]** *Can’t wait to meet the new life we created.* That was the day I found out I was pregnant. Ethan was so ecstatic he lifted me up and spun me around right in front of the hospital entrance. We lost the baby, a heartbreak that haunted us for years, a result of my own health complications. **[May 21, 2016]** No text, just a single photo: a massive bouquet of 999 red roses. That was the surprise Ethan arranged for our first wedding anniversary. My frantic heartbeat began to slow. Relief washed over me. This wasn’t about another woman. This was just Ethan’s private way of chronicling our life together. How sweet. And then, just as I was about to close the laptop, the page refreshed. A new entry appeared, posted seconds ago. **[Tonight]** *Hubby says he’s making his special coconut curry chicken for me and our son.* Before I could even process the words, Ethan’s custom ringtone—a clip from our wedding song—blared from my phone. “Hey, baby,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “Listen, Mark’s back in the country, just for a night. A few of us are taking him out to celebrate.” “Don’t worry, I won’t drink too much,” he continued, pre-empting my usual concern. “But it’s going to run late. I’ll probably just crash at a hotel downtown so I don’t wake you. Okay?” It was the usual considerate check-in. The usual Ethan. Any other day, I wouldn’t have thought twice. But now, with that blog post burned into my mind, his sudden night away felt like a deliberate deception. Mark was Ethan’s best friend from college, a guy who’d been working in London for years. I immediately called him. The sound of deafening club music blasted through the speaker before I could even say hello. “Mia! Checking up on your man?” Mark yelled over the noise. “Don’t you worry, he’s right here with me!” I forced my voice to sound steady. “Okay. You guys have fun.” I waited up until 2 a.m. As I suspected, the blog updated again. This time, there was a photo. A little boy, maybe eight years old, was beaming next to a homemade cake. The caption read: **Leo is eight! He and Daddy made a cake together today.** In the second photo, a man’s arm was wrapped around the boy. I’d know that arm anywhere. On his wrist was a woven cord bracelet, a one-of-a-kind piece I’d bought for him at a street fair during his “golden birthday” year. I’d tied it on him myself. There was only one in the world. My hands shook so violently the phone nearly slipped from my grasp. My fingertips were white from gripping it so hard. An eight-year-old boy. Calling him Dad. Proposed to on the same day as me. A pregnancy discovered on the same day as mine. Even their anniversary seemed to fall on the same date. The whole thing was so absurd, so utterly insane, I almost laughed. A piercing alarm pulled me from my stupor. I’d been sitting there all night, staring into space. I shut off the alarm—the one I set to remind me to make Ethan a hangover-cure smoothie on mornings like this. After washing the dried tear tracks from my face, I looked at my red, swollen eyes in the mirror and dialed the number for a private investigator. Thirty minutes later, I was parked outside a pristine suburban house not ten miles from our own. “Mrs. Hayes,” the investigator said over the phone, “this is the address Mr. Hayes has visited most frequently over the past decade, aside from your home and his office.” “Last night, he stopped at a bakery supply store, then a supermarket where he bought a fresh chicken and coconut milk. He went into this house and never came out.” Baking. Chicken. Coconut. It all clicked into place. The blood in my veins turned to ice. In the rearview mirror, my face was a ghostly white. The perfect, enviable love story I was so proud of was nothing but a complete and utter fraud. I didn’t have to wait long. Just after 8 a.m., Ethan walked out the front door, dressed for work. A woman, holding a sleepy little boy, came out to see him off. “Bye, Daddy,” the boy mumbled. Ethan bent down and squeezed his cheek affectionately. “Be good for your mom, buddy.” The scene of this perfect little family was a dagger in my eyes. I watched, torturing myself, staring so hard I could taste the metallic tang of blood from biting my lip. “Okay, I’m off,” Ethan said to the woman. “I’ll see you guys next time.” As he turned to leave, the woman dropped the boy’s hand and lunged forward, trying to hug him. Ethan sidestepped her smoothly. I saw a flash of annoyance cross his face before he quickly masked it. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low. The woman froze, her smile faltering. “Right,” she managed, her voice tight. “I promised.” I watched as Ethan got into his car and immediately picked up his phone. A second later, mine rang. His voice was thick with feigned exhaustion and longing, the same performance he gave after every late night out. “Baby, I feel awful. I could really use one of your smoothies right now.” A pause. “It’s been twenty hours since I saw you. I miss you so much.” Ethan had always been demonstrative. He’d declared he would be my boyfriend in front of the entire student body during his valedictorian speech. The day we started dating, he called his parents and announced he’d found their future daughter-in-law. At our wedding, he cried from morning till night, so much that his groomsmen kept their distance. Even my own parents were in awe of him, often asking me, “Are you really that special? How did you land a man who worships you like this?” Until yesterday, I believed it, too. Now, all I felt was a wave of nausea. When I didn’t respond, he must have thought I was mad about him staying out all night. “I promise, I’ll never drink that much again. No old friend is more important than my wife. Please don’t be angry, Mia.” I’m not good at hiding my feelings. His soft, coaxing voice broke through my resolve, and I was about to demand where he’d really been. Just as I opened my mouth, a sharp tap on my car window made me jump. It was her. The woman from the house, holding the little boy by the hand. She had on a full face of makeup, her red lips curved into a smirk. She mouthed the words: “Let’s talk.” I mumbled a quick excuse to Ethan and hung up. I followed her to a nearby coffee shop. “My name is Sarah,” she said, sliding into the booth opposite me. “I’m Ethan’s legal wife.” My hand, hidden under the table, clenched into a fist. The sharp sting of my nails digging into my palm was the only thing keeping me upright. I would not fall apart in front of her. “What a coincidence,” I said, my voice surprisingly level. “Because I also have a marriage license, and a wedding, that says I’m his legal wife.” I expected shock. Anger. Some sign that she was another victim in this. But her expression was calm, almost smug, as if everything was going according to her plan. She pulled a folded document from her purse and laid it on the table. A marriage certificate. The date, the city official—it all matched mine. Except for the photo. Hers was next to Ethan’s. “Look familiar?” Sarah asked with a slight smile. “That’s because Ethan had a perfect, high-quality forgery of this one made just for you.” My throat tightened. “What are you talking about?” “Your marriage certificate,” she said, her voice dripping with condescending pity. “It’s fake.” The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. Every part of me ached. Sarah watched me, savoring my reaction. “I’m sure you’ve already had me investigated,” she continued, “and you’ve decided I’m the homewrecker who stole your husband. How are you planning to get rid of me? Money? Your family’s influence?” She picked up her certificate and tucked it back into her purse, her smile turning into a triumphant sneer. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m the legal Mrs. Hayes. You,” she said, leaning in, “are the other woman. The one he keeps in the dark.” I fought to control my breathing, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. The little boy, who had been playing quietly nearby, ran over to our table. He pointed a small finger at me. “Mommy, is that the pretty lady from Daddy’s phone wallpaper?” I knew Ethan kept our wedding photo as his lock screen. But I never imagined he’d be so brazen as to let his own child see it. What shocked me more was Sarah’s reaction—or lack thereof. She clearly knew about me all along. She wanted me to find that blog. She wanted this confrontation. “What do you want?” I whispered. Instead of answering, Sarah pulled another document from her bag. A DNA test. It stated, in clear, clinical black and white, that Ethan Hayes shared no biological relationship with the child, Leo. I sat in that coffee shop until the sky went dark. My dad called, his voice laced with annoyance. “Are you fighting with Ethan again? He’s worried sick, says you’re not answering your phone.” There was a pause. “You’re thirty-two years old, Mia, not a child. When are you going to grow up?” The lecture continued. “Ethan runs the company flawlessly, so your mother and I don’t have to worry about a thing. On top of all that, he has to take care of you. And the second you have a disagreement, you pull a disappearing act. Can’t you be more considerate? Stop being so dramatic. With your inability to do anything practical, who else would put up with you if you manage to run him off?” The mountain of betrayal I was carrying was too heavy to explain. In their eyes, I was the clueless heiress, and Ethan was the perfect son-in-law who held our world together. My entire future depended on him. “But Dad,” I choked out, “what if he doesn’t love me?” “Impossible,” he said, without a hint of doubt. He was right. Everyone could see how much Ethan loved me. Even I had believed it. I pulled myself together, deciding to play along, to pretend I knew nothing. So what if one piece of paper was fake? Our life, our friends, our family—everyone knew me as his wife. And the boy wasn’t his. We could have our own child. When I got home, Ethan rushed to me, wrapping me in a desperate hug. I told him I’d gone to a movie and put my phone on silent. I felt his body relax, a silent sigh of relief against my chest. I dug my nails into my palms again, forcing down the suspicion. Later that night, after my shower, I put on a silk slip I’d bought years ago but had always been too shy to wear. Taking a deep breath, I walked up behind Ethan and wrapped my arms around him. He seemed surprised and pleased by my forwardness, but when I whispered that I wanted to try for a baby again, his whole body went rigid. He was silent for a long moment before gently removing my arms. “Why are you suddenly thinking about that?” he asked. The rejection was so clear it felt like my heart had dropped into my feet. My voice trembled. “You don’t want to?” He looked at me with the kind of patient exasperation one reserves for an unreasonable child. “Mia, you know what the doctors said after the miscarriage. Your body can’t handle another pregnancy. It would be dangerous for you. If something happened to you… what would I do?” My mind flashed back to that day, to the feeling of being alone, bleeding, and helpless. “Besides,” he added softly, “kids are so noisy. They cry all the time, they’d ruin our time together. I don’t like kids, you know that.” He ended up sleeping in the guest room, saying we both needed some space to “cool off.” Every word was a carefully crafted defense, painting me as the one making an impulsive, irrational demand. At 2 a.m., my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. Then another, and another. A dozen videos flooded in. They were all of Ethan with Leo. The first was from October 2016. Ethan was cradling a newborn, pacing back and forth, rocking him gently. That was the same time Ethan told me he had to fly to Europe for three months to handle a crisis at the international branch. Another lie. More videos followed. Every birthday. Ethan holding Leo’s hand at Disneyland, at the aquarium, building a model airplane together. There was even a clip of him at a parent-teacher conference. In every video, Ethan was smiling. A deep, genuine smile of pure happiness. A look I had never seen on his face before. He told me he didn’t like kids. Another lie. But then why… why had he spent so many nights back then, sitting alone on our balcony, silently crying while holding the tiny baby clothes I had bought? It was as if he was trying to make up for something. For the next few weeks, Ethan was a model husband. He left work early and came home on time. He spent every free moment with me, turning down all invitations and pushing all his networking duties onto his assistant. “I need to be home with my wife,” he’d say proudly into his phone. “Yeah, I’m a whipped husband. So what?” Just as I started to think our life was returning to normal, that Sarah and Leo were just a nightmare I’d had, Ethan shattered the illusion himself. The company was on annual leave, and Ethan had planned a surprise trip for us to Iceland to see the Northern Lights—something I’d always dreamed of. We were at the airport, about to check in, when he took a call. The color drained from his face. “It’s an emergency at the office,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Baby, I’m so sorry. We’ll have to do this another time.” I stared at his face, a mask of practiced regret. I had to know. “Is it really the office, Ethan?” He stopped walking, turning back to me with a flicker of confusion. The old me would have just nodded and accepted it, always putting his work first. “Of course it’s…” My last shred of patience snapped. I held up my phone, showing him the text that had arrived three minutes earlier. It was from Sarah. **[Leo has a 100-degree fever. Let’s see if his daddy will abandon you for him.]** Ethan froze, a look of pure panic and disbelief flashing in his eyes. “Who do you choose?” I asked, my voice flat. He reached for me, but I pulled away. Through his phone, I could hear the faint, pained cries of a child. “Daddy… I don’t feel good… I want you…” Ethan’s hand tightened around his phone. He looked at me, his eyes dark with a conflict I couldn’t decipher. “You don’t have a child, Mia,” he said, his voice strained. “You don’t understand how terrifying it is when they get sick. We can see the Northern Lights anytime. If you really want to go, just go ahead. I’ll fly out and meet you when this is over.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll explain everything later,” he threw over his shoulder. In ten years of marriage, I had seen Ethan run towards me countless times. This was the first time I had ever seen him run away, a desperate, frantic sprint in the opposite direction. An airport attendant offered me a tissue, and I realized my carefully applied makeup was streaming down my face. A dull, constant ache in my chest made it hard to breathe. My phone vibrated again. A text from Sarah. **[I told you. You’re the other woman. Why won’t you just leave him?]** On that day in the coffee shop, after she showed me the DNA test, I had asked her what she wanted. She’d smiled brightly. “To take back my rightful place as Mrs. Hayes, of course.” I turned off my phone, ignoring her taunts, and headed for the airport exit to catch a cab. I absentmindedly pressed the wrong button in the elevator and ended up in the deserted underground parking garage. As I turned to go back, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind, and I was dragged into a windowless van. My hands and feet were bound, my mouth gagged. “You move, you make a sound, and I’ll gut you,” a gruff voice hissed, pressing the cold steel of a knife against my side. I huddled in the corner, trembling, trying not to make a sound. “Call Ethan Hayes,” the man ordered his partner. “Tell him if he doesn’t back off the Southridge deal, he’ll never see his precious wife again.” The Southridge deal. Ethan had told me about them. A rival firm he was trying to acquire, a group that was fighting back tooth and nail. “We’ll just wait them out,” he had said. “Starve them until they give in.” They used my phone. The first call went to voicemail. The second. The tenth. Each unanswered ring felt like a drop of ice water on my heart. “Dammit!” the man yelled. “I thought this guy was obsessed with his wife! Call him again!” This time, he answered. His voice, crackling with suppressed fury, filled the small van. “Mia, what the hell is your problem? Why do you have to take it out on a child?” He didn’t even let me speak. “So you miss one trip, but a little boy is sick! Do you have any compassion at all?” He was practically shouting now. “You know what? You could never be a good mother. Deciding you shouldn’t have our baby was the rightest decision I ever made.” My breath hitched. “What did you just say?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384903”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Before the final SAT exam, my genius boyfriend’s mom got hit by an electric scooter right in front of the testing center. He was a complete mess when he saw me. “Tori, can you please take my mom to the ER?” I was about to say yes without a second thought, but then a few lines of text flickered into existence in front of my eyes: 【The male lead was planning to dump the side character right after the test anyway. He only stayed with her for a few more years because she saved his mom.】 【Just say yes! He’s freaking out. Yesterday, he intentionally bombed two major problems on the math section just to lower his score enough to get into the same college as the female lead. If he misses the reading comprehension section today, he won’t even get into a top-tier school!】 The words, like comments from a livestream only I could see, left me stunned. It took me a moment to find my voice. “No.” Even if he had the potential to be a National Merit Scholar, that wasn’t a good enough reason for me to throw away my own future for him. … Ethan couldn’t believe I’d refused. He got agitated. “Tori, my mom raised me all by herself. She’s the most important person in my life. I can’t just leave her here and go take a test.” Mrs. Davis was unconscious on the pavement, and the kid who hit her with the scooter looked like he was about to faint. “You’re really not going to help me?” Ethan’s voice rose, sharp and accusing. “You talk a big game about loving me, about wanting me to succeed, but it’s all just talk, isn’t it? The second something real happens, I see who you really are. You’re just selfish.” I looked down, my voice barely a whisper. “The reading section is first. If you miss it, you’ll have to guess on the whole thing. And they lock the doors fifteen minutes after it starts.” He let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Like it makes a difference for *your* score? What, you think acing the reading section is suddenly going to get you into a UC school?” My breath hitched. I couldn’t believe those words came out of Ethan’s mouth. Ethan was always number one in our class. I knew how much this test meant to him. I was the one who stood in the long lunch line for him every day so he’d have more time to study. I was the one who asked my cousin at a rival magnet school to sneak me their test prep materials for him. But seeing those floating comments—that he’d *deliberately* tanked part of his math score—made it hard to breathe. “Isn’t that the valedictorian? What’s going on?” “We’ve got twenty minutes till the doors close. C’mon, let’s go.” Other students were whispering as they hurried past. In the distance, I could hear a siren getting closer. 【What’s wrong with this side character? The simp won’t even help? She’s going to ruin everything for him.】 【The female lead is here! Oh no, please don’t make our girl Chloe take his mom to the hospital. Don’t let it mess with her test!】 “Ethan? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I snapped my head up and saw Chloe’s cool, composed face. So *she* was the “female lead” the stream was talking about. Ethan’s voice was weak. “My mom… she got hit. She’s unconscious.” “Oh my god, what are we going to do? The test is about to start.” Ethan seemed to pull himself together. “It’s okay, I’ll figure it out. You should go get to your seat. Don’t worry about this, just focus and do your best.” The stream chat exploded again. 【See? The difference between love and not-love is so obvious. He’s panicking but still tells the female lead not to worry. Such a man!】 【Yeah, our girl Chloe has to do well! Go get into the same college as him!】 I watched the glowing text scroll by and silently took two steps back. The ambulance arrived. I moved forward to help lift the stretcher, but Ethan shoved me away. “We don’t need your fake sympathy.” Before he climbed into the ambulance, his eyes skipped over me and landed squarely on Chloe. “Don’t worry. Go on. Do great.” Sitting in the exam room, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. I listened to every single word of the proctor’s instructions with laser focus. I didn’t let myself relax until the very last second of the exam. When I walked out, it was no surprise that Ethan wasn’t there. My best friend, Maya, grabbed my arm. “We’re free! The class president is having a huge bonfire at the beach tonight. Are you and Ethan coming together?” I shook my head. I didn’t even know if he’d made it back in time for the test. “Hey, isn’t that Ethan over there?” I followed Maya’s finger and saw him standing under the big old oak tree with Chloe. He flagged down a cab, held the door for her with his hand over the frame so she wouldn’t hit her head, and then slid in beside her. “Where are they going? Wait, why isn’t he waiting for you?” Maya immediately realized how awkward and sad I must have looked and shut her mouth. “They’re probably going to the hospital,” I said. I told her what happened before the test, leaving out the part about the weird, magical comments. Maya was furious on my behalf. “Why should *you* have to take his mom? Is he the only person whose future is on the line today? So what if he’s number one, he can’t just expect his girlfriend to sacrifice her own SATs for him.” I thought about the comment saying he was going to dump me anyway and gave a weak, bitter smile. Maybe it was for the best. Better to get it over with now than be strung along for a few more years. I skipped the bonfire. After dinner, I just locked myself in my room. I opened my chat with Ethan. I typed and deleted, typed and deleted, and finally just sent: *How’s your mom doing?* The class group chat was blowing up with thousands of post-exam messages, but my chat window with Ethan was silent. I felt like a prisoner with a bag over my head, waiting for the executioner’s axe to fall. Eventually, I couldn’t resist opening Instagram. Chloe had just posted a new story. 【First time seeing you like this. It’s okay, I’m here.】 The picture was a silhouette of a guy under a streetlight, his shadow stretched long on the pavement. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew Ethan’s profile anywhere. The only thing I didn’t recognize was the cigarette between his fingers. Even as a shadow, I could feel his despair. My throat tightened. I wanted to call him. But then the comments popped back up. 【He’s totally broken. He’s never done this badly on a test in his life. Chloe, our baby, go hug him! Don’t let him be sad all alone!】 【Yes! Run your fingers through his hair and then reward him with a kiss! Don’t wait until he’s at the altar with the side piece to finally make your move!】 【How can she not see it? His eyes are screaming ‘I’m vulnerable, please comfort me!’】 My eyes widened at the text. *At the altar?* I immediately canceled the call I’d just started. So even if we somehow made it to our wedding day, he would still leave me for her? Why should I bother fighting to be a supporting character in their story? I waited all night. I didn’t get a reply, and I didn’t get a breakup text. The next day, the news about Ethan’s mom had spread. A few mutual friends planned to go visit her at the hospital. We walked into the room with a bouquet of flowers and were met by an exhausted-looking Ethan. He glanced at me, his voice ice-cold. “What are you doing here?” “I’m sorry I didn’t take your mom to the hospital yesterday. I…” “Tori, you can drop the act. I see exactly what kind of person you are now.” From the bed, Mrs. Davis’s voice was weak. “Ethan, what’s going on?” “Your classmates are here to see you, Mom.” He stepped aside to let everyone else in, but he physically blocked me from entering. Our friends froze, not knowing what to say. I stared at him, stunned, and quietly held out the flowers to him. He shoved them back at me. “I will never forgive you,” he hissed, then turned and shut the door in my face. Tears blurred my vision, but the floating text became sharper than ever. 【Smart move by the ML. His mom was only won over by the side character’s constant, perfect care. By not giving her the chance to do that now, his mom won’t pressure him to stay with her later.】 【But wait, why hasn’t he broken up with her yet?】 【Yeah, for real. Shouldn’t he just dump her? Why keep such a selfish girlfriend around?】 Reading that, I felt a surge of anger. If I helped him, I was a doormat. If I didn’t, I was selfish. Did anyone in this stupid “narrative” care about *my* future? For the next few days, I didn’t bother texting Ethan. Instead, I called my dad, who had moved to California a few years ago when his company expanded. We talked about college options out there, and he offered to help me find an internship for the summer. I’d always planned on staying in-state for college—not at Ethan’s Ivy League choice, obviously, but at least in the same city. But now that we were ending, the farther away the better. Before the scores were released, our class president organized a big grad party at a local pizza place. When I got there, Ethan had already arrived. Chloe was sitting right next to him. They were both wearing clothes in the same shade of blue, looking for all the world like a couple. I had just sat down when Maya slid in next to me. “What is going on with you and Ethan? Did you break up?” I gave a grim smile. “Basically.” “What do you mean, ‘basically’? Are they wearing matching outfits? That’s so messed up. Does he have to rub it in your face the second you break up?” I hadn’t thought about it, but now that Maya mentioned it, I felt like everyone at the table was whispering, waiting to see me fall apart. Someone at the table started talking about another class. “Did you guys hear about the senior couple from Mr. Henderson’s homeroom? They broke up.” “No way! They were so solid. The principal even called their parents in, and it didn’t change anything. Why break up after graduation?” “Their scores were just too different. Reality hits, you know? It was bound to happen eventually.” I kept my head down and sipped my soda. But then Chloe laughed. “People really break up over test scores? I thought guys just liked pretty girls. I mean, look at our class, at least half the guys have a crush on Tori.” My head shot up at the sound of my name. I met Chloe’s taunting gaze. Then Ethan chimed in from beside her, his voice casual. “What’s the point of being pretty if you’re a selfish person?” Ethan’s friends started piling on. “Seriously, man, if I were there, I would’ve driven your mom to the hospital for you, no questions asked. I’d never let you miss your shot at a school like Princeton.” “I’d be pissed too if I were you.” Maya muttered, just loud enough to be heard, “Wasn’t Chloe there, too?” The table went dead silent. The quiet was broken by a rowdy cheer from across the restaurant. The other senior class was having their party here, too, and Liam, their class heartthrob, was walking toward our table. Our class president called out, “What do you want, Liam? Here to start a turf war?” Maya nudged me. “I think he’s coming for you,” she whispered. I looked up and met Liam’s eyes. He was clearly a little drunk, the tips of his ears bright red, but his voice was sincere when he stopped in front of me. “Tori, can I get your number?” The question was followed by a chorus of whistles and catcalls from both tables. I was totally flustered, but before I could respond, Ethan’s voice cut through the noise. “What are you doing asking for my girlfriend’s number?” Liam looked at Ethan, then glanced at Chloe in her matching blue shirt. “I don’t want your girlfriend’s number. I’m here for Tori’s.” The cheering got even louder. “We’ve been in the same grade for four years, and I’ve always wanted to get to know you,” Liam said to me. “Just adding you on Snap isn’t a crime, right?” It wasn’t. I pulled out my phone and let him scan my code. He grinned. “Talk to you later,” he said with a little wave, and walked away. From across the table, Ethan stared daggers at me and chugged his entire glass of beer. The stream chat lit up. 【Why is the ML so mad? And look at the FL’s face, she’s so upset.】 【Drink up, drink up! Get drunk and tell Chloe how you really feel. I bet we’ll see some real progress tonight!】 【What kind of progress? 😉 I’m excited. They’re both eighteen, after all.】 The comments were making my head spin. Suddenly, someone yelled, “Chloe, are you okay?” Sometime in the last few minutes, Chloe had gotten herself completely drunk. She swayed in her seat and collapsed right into Ethan’s arms. Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her stand up. “I’m gonna take her home.” As he was leaving, he looked back at me. “You and Maya get an Uber together later, okay? Don’t go home by yourself.” Maya couldn’t help herself. “Is he for real? One minute he’s calling you his girlfriend, the next he has his arm around another girl and is taking her home. What a psycho.” Our class president tried to smooth things over. “He’s probably just still mad at you, Tori. You guys should just talk it out. It doesn’t have to be this dramatic.” Watching them leave, I laughed without any humor. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” Ethan hated public displays of affection. He’d lecture me if I even tried to secretly hold his hand in the school hallway. Being held that intimately? That was something new. Angry or not, the person he liked was never me. While we were waiting for our ride, my phone buzzed. It was a DM from Chloe. 【Sorry. I don’t think he likes you anymore.】 Attached was a picture. It was dark, clearly taken in a car, but it was unmistakably Ethan, and she was kissing him. Maya, who had been reading over my shoulder, exploded. “What is WRONG with her? Is she proud of kissing someone else’s boyfriend? She has to send you a picture to gloat? And Ethan is a total scumbag! I swear, I want to slap them both! This is insane!” Listening to Maya use every curse word she knew, I felt my own tears dry up before they could fall. “It’s for the best,” I said, my voice hollow. “Better to face reality now than get dumped at my own wedding, right?” “You and your silver linings,” Maya grumbled, but she pulled me into a hug. “If you want to cry, just cry. Don’t hold it all in.” I watched the stream comments fly by, all of them celebrating. 【Our girl Chloe is so brave! They don’t have to waste all those years apart anymore!】 【Yes! Finally! I was so tired of watching the genius ML with a dumb girl who he has nothing in common with.】 【Seriously, geniuses should be with other geniuses. That’s a relationship of equals.】 I didn’t cry. I just felt numb, thinking about all the years I had wasted. On the way home, I sent one last text to Ethan. 【Ethan, we’re done.】 As expected, he didn’t reply. The next day, the SAT scores were released. I did a little better than I expected—good enough for a great university in California. Without hesitating, I accepted my spot, then booked a flight. My dad had already set up an internship for me at a friend’s tech company. It was time to get a taste of the real world. Right before the plane took off, my phone rang. It was Ethan. “Tori, where are you applying? Did you score high enough for State U? It’s closer to my campus. Send me your scores, I’ll help you figure out which school is the best fit.” It took me a few seconds to process what he was saying. “Ethan, we broke up. You don’t need to worry about where I’m going.” “Tori, come on. I was just giving a friend a ride home. You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.” The flight attendant announced that all electronic devices needed to be turned off for takeoff. I hung up the phone and switched on airplane mode.

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I was using the new smart fridge my husband, Julian, had just installed, trying to put together a shopping list for the weekend. Suddenly, a shared family account he’d forgotten to log out of popped up on the screen. It only had one other user profile, one I didn’t recognize. I tapped on it. A list titled “Rose Care Guide” was staring back at me. *Rose is allergic to shellfish, avoid spicy food.* *Rose gets emotional, buy her favorite white chocolate to calm her down.* *Rose gets cold easily, keep the thermostat set to a constant 78 degrees.* I scrolled down with a cold smile, my eyes landing on the last item, a bolded calendar reminder: **“Next Wednesday, take Rose to pick out a wedding gown.”** My face was a mask of calm as I closed the list and picked up my phone to call him. “Darling,” I said, my voice sweet, “does your Rose prefer a classic or modern wedding dress? I’d love to help you pick one out.” … On the other end of the line, my husband Julian’s breath caught for a fraction of a second. “Ava, what kind of joke is this?” His voice, the same warm, magnetic tone I’d known for eight years, was perfectly steady. “What rose? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He let out a low chuckle, his words dripping with practiced affection. “The only rose I have is you, sweetheart.” I clutched the phone, my eyes scanning the dark night outside the window as a smirk played on my lips. “The one from your shared list. The rose who’s going to be trying on wedding gowns.” His voice immediately relaxed, a hint of manufactured realization in his tone. “Oh, *that*. That’s for Mark. He’s getting ready to propose to his girlfriend, and he asked me to help him plan the wedding details.” “You know how he is, a total mess with this stuff. I’ll have to chew him out later for syncing his lists to my account and making my Ava jealous.” It was the perfect excuse. Mark was his best friend from childhood, the best man at our wedding. He was certain I’d never doubt it. “That’s just Mark for you,” he continued smoothly. “Always dumping his problems on me. I’m sorry he made you worry, honey.” “Is that so?” I asked lightly. “You two must be close if he needs you to help him choose his fiancée’s wedding dress.” Julian went right along with it. “You know it. We’ve been brothers since we were kids. Honestly, the way he spoils his girlfriend, I’m almost jealous.” “Ava, don’t overthink this. You’re the only one for me. Is your dress for the gala tomorrow night ready? I can have the driver pick it up.” “No need,” I said. “I’ve already made my own arrangements.” I ended the call, tossed my apron aside, and took a complete screenshot of the list. The lock turned. Not even fifteen minutes had passed before Julian was home. He walked in and immediately wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin in the crook of my neck. He smelled of the cool night air. “Ava, I was still worried. I cancelled the rest of my meetings and came straight home.” He cupped my face, his deep eyes filled with sincerity and concern. “Have I been too busy lately? Have I been neglecting you, letting your mind run wild like this?” “Your voice on the phone… it didn’t sound right. My heart just sank. No business deal is more important than you.” “It’s all my fault. I haven’t been thinking about your feelings these past few weeks.” He took all the blame, shouldered all the responsibility, painting me as the hysterical, paranoid wife seeing ghosts. I stared at the face I had once been so completely lost in, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “No, it’s not you. I think I’m just tired lately.” He let out a quiet, audible sigh of relief. “You silly girl.” He brushed his fingertip against my nose. “Alright, stop worrying. I’ll go run you a bath.” He shrugged off his custom-tailored suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a chair. I watched him walk into the bathroom, then reached for the jacket to hang it in the closet. A thick, gold-embossed card fell out of the pocket. I picked it up. It was a collection voucher from a private couture atelier. The name of the custom gown was “Starry Night Rose.” The listed materials and labor hours indicated a price tag that was astronomical. At the bottom, in handwritten script, was the recipient’s information. It wasn’t me. And it wasn’t Mark’s fiancée. Clutching the thin card, I dialed my best friend, Zara. She was a shark—the top divorce lawyer in the city, with a network that was frankly terrifying. “Zara, I’m sending you a name and an address. Find out everything you can. I want to know her connection to Julian.” For the next few days, Julian was the picture of devotion. Kisses in the morning, embraces at night. He started driving me to and from work and even began looking up recipes, cooking elaborate meals for me. He was playing the part of the perfect husband, wracked with guilt over a near-misunderstanding and desperate to make amends. On Tuesday afternoon, Julian’s grandfather called. The old man asked about my health before changing the subject. “Ava, you and Julian have been married three years now. It’s time you started shifting your focus more toward the family.” “A man is in the prime of his career. He needs a supportive wife at home.” “Our Julian is a capable man, and he adores you. You need to make sure the home front is secure for him.” Every word was a nail wrapped in cotton candy. Not fatal, but it pierced deep. I gave a few noncommittal answers to get him off the phone. Julian walked in with a bowl of soup, sitting down next to me. “Grandpa giving you another lecture?” I nodded. He sighed, pulling me into his arms. “Don’t listen to him. He’s from a different era.” “You just do what makes you happy, Ava. I’ll support you no matter what.” He said all the right things. I nestled against his chest, inhaling the sour, rotten scent of fermented lies. On Thursday, Zara called. “I’ve got it all,” she said, her voice cold as ice. “The woman at that address is named Rose Miller. Twenty-three years old. She started at Croft Enterprises three months ago.” “She has that innocent, girl-next-door look. Calls him ‘Jules’ in front of everyone.” “And here’s the kicker. I had someone pull the security footage.” “The day before yesterday, Julian personally took her to the atelier. He was there for the entire fitting, helping her choose the style, watching them take her measurements.” An invisible hand squeezed my heart. Zara scoffed. “It gets worse.” “I got into her private cloud storage. The password was Julian’s birthday.” “It’s filled with photos of them together.” I hung up and opened the folder of photos Zara had sent me. Rose’s album was titled *My Knight*. The most recent picture was posted two days ago. *【J says this gown is all mine, just like he is.】* *【He’s going to give me the title I deserve at the family gala next week.】* The photo was of a breathtakingly beautiful gown, the exact same design as the one on the collection voucher. The fabric was a rare, one-of-a-kind silk that Julian had recently purchased at a high price from a master artisan—a bolt of fabric he told me was for my wedding anniversary gift. I scrolled down. *【On a night when I was falling apart, J drove across the entire city to be with me. He brought me my favorite white chocolate and held me all night.】* *【He said that from now on, he’ll never let me be hurt again.】* The photo was of Julian’s sleeping profile, his brow slightly furrowed, one of his hands tightly gripping Rose’s. The picture was taken in our bedroom. In our marital bed. The home I had poured my heart and soul into designing, a place filled with our memories. I scrolled again. *【My new car from J! He even had the interior customized in my favorite color! He said it’s my own private pumpkin carriage, and one day it will take me to a castle.】* The photo was a selfie of her in the driver’s seat, smiling at the luxury car logo on the steering wheel. It was the new car Julian had brought home last week. The phone slipped from my numb fingers, the screen shattering on the hardwood floor. I sank into the sofa, every ounce of strength draining from my body. Eight years. Eight years from high school sweethearts to husband and wife. All the promises he’d made, all the things he’d done for me, now felt like red-hot branding irons searing my heart over and over again. He said he loved me, yet he held another woman in our bed. He said he was in a late meeting, but he was comforting another woman’s fragile emotions. He said I was his only rose, but he had already prepared a wedding gown and a new title for someone else. A wave of nausea washed over me. I ran to the bathroom and threw up until I was dizzy. Why? What did I do wrong? Julian, how could you do this to me? My heart was torn to shreds, the pain so intense I couldn’t breathe. I leaned against the cold tile, crying until no more sounds would come out. And then, somewhere in the middle of the silent sobs, I started to laugh. I stood up and splashed cold water on my face. My pain wouldn’t earn his guilt. My tears were worthless. *You want to give her a title, Julian? Fine. I’ll help you make it a night to remember.* Just then, Julian pushed the door open. Seeing my state, his expression changed instantly. “Ava, what’s wrong? Why are you so pale?” He rushed over, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. I looked up at him, my eyes red and swollen from crying. “Julian, I don’t think… I can do this anymore.” He froze, his face a perfect mask of concern and heartache. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? We’re going to the hospital, right now.” He started to grab his coat. “No,” I said, grabbing his wrist. “It’s just… my heart. It feels so heavy.” Julian stopped. He knelt before me, taking my hands in his, his face a portrait of regret. “It’s all my fault. I’ve been so focused on work, I’ve completely ignored how you feel.” “Ava, listen to me. The business doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Only you.” “I’m clearing my schedule tomorrow. We’ll go to Aspen, just like you’ve always wanted. We’ll go see the snow. How does that sound?” He was so earnest, as if all my pain stemmed from his neglect, not his betrayal. I looked at him and, to his surprise, I smiled. “Okay,” I whispered. “Whatever you say.” The family gala next week was actually the Croft Foundation’s annual charity ball. The Crofts were one of the city’s founding families, and the event was a massive affair held at their sprawling country estate. As the most brilliant heir of his generation, Julian was naturally the center of attention. He looked impeccable in a tailored black tuxedo, moving through the crowd of socialites and billionaires with an easy smile. My mother-in-law, dripping in jewels, stood beside him, her face beaming with pride. His grandfather, the patriarch of the Croft empire, sat at the head table, leaning on a dragon-headed cane, his presence commanding the room. “Ava, come here.” The old man beckoned to me. I walked over, and he patted the empty seat beside him. “Sit.” “Tonight’s guests are all very important people. Don’t walk around with such a long face. People will think the Croft family mistreats you.” “Julian is out there building an empire. You need to learn to be the woman behind him. Be softer. More supportive.” “And another thing, it’s about time that belly of yours showed some activity!” His words were gentle, but they carried the weight of an order. I lowered my eyes and said nothing. He seemed ready to continue his lecture, but Julian appeared with a glass of champagne. “Grandpa, are you scolding Ava again?” He stood naturally behind me, resting a hand on the back of my chair and smiling at his grandfather. “Ava hasn’t been feeling well lately. I’ve told her to rest and not to worry about a thing.” He was always like this, flawlessly protecting me in public, giving me the ultimate appearance of respect. The old man grunted and turned to speak to someone else. Julian leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Don’t listen to him. I love you just the way you are.” I smiled, my gaze drifting over his shoulder, where I saw a face that had no business being here. Rose. She was wearing a pale pink slip dress, a white silk shawl draped over her shoulders. Her long hair was curled, her makeup was light and dewy, and her expression was a mixture of timidness and poorly concealed triumph. Her hand rested unconsciously on her lower abdomen. She was standing near one of Julian’s cousins, pretending to be his date. Julian’s eyes flickered in her direction. It was only for a second, but I saw it all: the joy, the possessiveness, the certainty of a man who believes he has won. Halfway through the evening, it was time for the old man to give his speech and announce the company’s major plans for the coming year. As the heir apparent, Julian was called to the stage. He took the microphone and began by reporting on the year’s successes. Then, his tone shifted. His eyes swept across the room before finally landing on me. “I want to thank my grandfather, my uncles, and all of our partners. But most of all, I want to thank my wife, Ava Croft.” Every eye in the room turned to me. “However,” he paused, “tonight, I must also announce a difficult decision.” His gaze finally moved away from my face, becoming cold and unfamiliar. “I, Julian Croft, will be seeking a divorce from Ava.” A wave of gasps and murmurs rippled through the hall. “What? A divorce?” “What’s going on? I thought they were the perfect couple.” “My God, announcing a divorce at the family gala? Is he insane?” His grandfather’s face darkened. He banged his cane on the floor. “Julian! What is the meaning of this nonsense!” Julian ignored him, his voice as cold as a tombstone. “This isn’t nonsense.” “Ava and I have irreconcilable differences. Our marriage has been over in all but name for years.” “For too long, she has been consumed by her own career, neglecting her duties to me and to this family. She has failed to provide the support and care that a wife should.” “That is, until I met a girl who is willing to put family first. A girl who is willing to build a home with me.” “And she is carrying my child. I have a responsibility to her, and I intend to give her the title she deserves.” He turned and extended his hand toward Rose. “Rose, come up here.” With tears streaming down her face, Rose lifted the hem of her dress and, in the dead silence, walked step by step onto the stage. She went to Julian’s side, and he pulled her into his arms. He bent his head, tenderly kissing a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered into the microphone. “I’m sorry you had to endure this.” Then, he looked up, his eyes fixing on me with the air of a judge delivering a sentence. “Ava, for the sake of the years we spent together, you can leave now with your dignity intact. We can keep this civil.” “I will provide you with a settlement generous enough to ensure you live comfortably for the rest of your life.” “But if you choose to make a scene, the only person you will humiliate is yourself.” He had planned it all perfectly. In this place, in this way, he would nail me to a cross of public shame. He wanted everyone to know that it was me, Ava, the barren wife, who was selfishly clinging to the Croft name. And he was just the victim, a man fighting for true love and the family he so desperately wanted. I looked at the two actors on the stage. I looked at the old man at the head table, his face shifting from rage to disappointment. And I smiled. Step by step, I walked onto the stage. I took the other microphone from the stunned emcee. In an instant, every camera, every pair of eyes in the entire estate, was fixed on me.

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On the day of our hospital’s winter holiday party, the new intern, a master of passive aggression, posted about me on the internal employee forum. She claimed that as the head of cardiothoracic surgery, I was greedy for taking a $100,000 holiday bonus all for myself. What she didn’t mention was that the “bonus” was the annual payout for performing all of the hospital’s most complex, high-risk surgeries—surgeries that only I was qualified to do. The result? The entire hospital staff was calling me a greedy monster. So, I decided to give the people what they wanted. I submitted a formal request: 【To promote departmental unity, I voluntarily request to transfer all high-risk surgical cases to other qualified physicians.】 The moment the memo went out, the hospital nearly ground to a halt. The department heads camped outside my office, begging me to take it back. … I had just finished a grueling twelve-hour aortic dissection repair when my assistant, Chris, handed me his phone. Pinned to the top of the hospital’s internal forum was a trending post: 【Let’s talk about Dr. Zara Khan in Cardiothoracic. A $100,000 holiday bonus? Isn’t that a little much?】 The poster was anonymous, but the profile picture was a pink bunny. I recognized it. It was the new intern, Lily Chen. The post was simple: a screenshot of the bonus distribution list, my name and the number “100,000.00” clearly visible, though other details were blurred out. The caption was dripping with sarcasm: 【Happy Holidays! I was hoping for some cookies or maybe a hot chocolate bar, but I guess the hospital decided to just make it rain cash. It’s just… Dr. Khan gets a hundred grand, while the rest of us nurses and junior doctors are working ourselves to the bone for a few hundred bucks. Lol, I guess my imagination is limited by my poverty.】 She conveniently left out the fact that this wasn’t a holiday bonus. It was the annual performance payout for all “Level IV” surgical procedures. And in the entire cardiothoracic department—no, in the entire hospital—the only person capable of independently performing ultra-complex Level IV surgeries like Type A aortic dissections or giant ventricular aneurysm repairs was me. The comment section had already exploded. 【WTF! A hundred grand! She might as well just rob a bank!】 【We in the ER are running around like headless chickens 24/7, and our year-end bonus isn’t even a fraction of hers. How is that fair?】 【They call her the hospital’s top surgeon. Looks like she’s the top earner, too.】 I scrolled through the comments, my face a blank mask. The life I had just spent twelve hours saving suddenly felt a little less precious. Back in my office, the atmosphere was tense. People looked at me differently. A group of nurses who usually chatted by the water cooler fell silent the moment I walked in, their faces a mixture of contempt and envy they couldn’t quite hide. My mentor, Dr. Evans, the department chief, called me into his office. He sighed. “Zara, how are you going to handle this?” “Dr. Evans, you know that wasn’t a holiday bonus.” He nodded, then shook his head. “I know. But they don’t. You can’t silence a mob.” I understood what he was implying. He wanted me to back down, to return some of the money to appease the masses. Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door. Dr. Mark Sloan, the associate chief of cardiothoracic surgery, walked in with Lily in tow. Mark was a few years older than me and always acted like he was my senior, but his surgical skills were consistently a step behind mine. He’d watched me win award after award, and the sour look in his eyes was palpable from across the room. He entered with the air of a peacemaker. “Chief, Dr. Khan. Lily is young and didn’t know any better. I brought her here to apologize.” He gave Lily a little push forward. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she bowed to me, her voice choked with fake tears. “Dr. Khan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was just… I was so shocked when I saw the number, and it felt unfair. I just wanted to ask on behalf of everyone. I didn’t have any bad intentions.” She kept repeating “I didn’t mean to,” and “on behalf of everyone.” Her apology felt sharper than a scalpel in winter. Mark smoothly picked up where she left off, his tone patronizing. “Zara, you see? Lily was just thinking about department morale. And really, you can’t blame her entirely. The bonus structure is a bit problematic. It’s bound to cause misunderstandings.” He looked at me, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. “How about this? You take some of that money and treat the whole department to a nice dinner. We’ll build some camaraderie. We’ll just let this whole thing blow over. She’s just a kid, we should be more understanding.” The way he said it made it sound like I’d taken money I didn’t deserve and now needed to buy my way out of trouble. I watched the two of them, their performance perfectly synchronized, and let out a cold laugh. “You’re right, Dr. Sloan. My perspective has been too narrow. I’ve been so focused on surgery that I haven’t considered everyone else’s feelings.” Mark thought I was giving in. His smile widened. Lily lowered her head, her shoulders shaking slightly in a display of remorseful fragility. I ignored them and turned to Dr. Evans. “Chief, the root of this problem is that I have a monopoly on these skills. I’m taking up too many resources and leaving no room for my colleagues to grow.” “To promote departmental unity, and to give talented mid-career surgeons like Dr. Sloan more opportunities, I’ve decided to submit a formal request to the hospital administration.” I paused, watching the color drain from Mark’s face, and said, word by word, “I am voluntarily transferring the scheduling for all Level IV surgical procedures to other qualified surgeons in the department. I will limit my work to routine Level I and II surgeries.” Dr. Evans shot up from his chair, his face pale. “Zara! What are you doing? This is madness!” Mark’s face was as white as a sheet. He had probably imagined a thousand ways to undermine me, but he never, ever imagined that I would take the prize everyone was so jealous of and just… throw it at him, pot and all. Level IV surgeries represented the pinnacle of the profession, but they also carried the highest risk. Success meant glory and a huge payout. Failure meant lawsuits and a ruined career. He had the guts to be jealous, but did he have the skill to take over? I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I walked out of the office, pausing beside Lily. “Congratulations,” I said softly. “You got the fairness you were fighting for.” Her face went completely bloodless. My request hit the hospital administration like a bomb. The hospital president, Mr. Harrison, called me personally, his voice graver than I’d ever heard it. “Zara, who are you trying to prove a point to? Do you have any idea what this request means?” “Mr. Harrison, I’m not trying to prove a point,” I said calmly. “I’m simply responding to the will of the people. I don’t want to be the cause of any more division over bonuses.” There was a long silence on the other end. He knew better than anyone that the most advanced equipment and operating rooms in the cardiothoracic wing were essentially for my exclusive use. He knew how many high-profile patients—politicians, CEOs, complex cases from all over the country—specifically requested me as their surgeon, generating millions in revenue and prestige for the hospital. Now that I was stepping back, he was the first one to feel the heat. “Just calm down. I’ll hold onto your request for now. I’ll have the IT department take care of the forum post.” “There’s no need, sir,” I interrupted. “If everyone feels my presence is creating an unfair environment, then I will step aside. I’m confident the hospital will continue to function perfectly well without me.” I hung up. A few minutes later, Chris rushed in, looking panicked. “Dr. Khan, it’s bad! The forum is blowing up again!” I opened it. A new post was trending. 【Insider Info! Dr. Khan is threatening to go on strike over unfair bonus distribution!】 The poster was anonymous again, but the tone was even more inflammatory. 【Using her skills to hold the entire hospital hostage. Is this a doctor’s compassion, or a doctor’s greed?】 A comment from one of Mark’s sock puppet accounts, which I recognized, was getting a lot of upvotes. 【I’ve always heard she was difficult, but I never thought she lacked this much perspective. The operating room isn’t her personal stage. The world keeps spinning without her.】 Lily had even waded in with her main account, posting a comment that was carefully crafted to sound objective but was really just fanning the flames. 【As an intern, I’ve seen the tireless dedication of our senior staff, but I’ve also seen flaws in the system. I believe our hospital is a compassionate community, and personal feelings should never be placed above a patient’s life. I hope certain individuals can calm down and not do something that will disappoint us all.】 She had successfully painted herself as a concerned whistleblower. I had to laugh. Just then, the ER called. The head nurse’s voice was frantic. “Dr. Khan! Ambulance just brought in a trauma patient, suspected Marfan syndrome with an acute Type A aortic dissection rupture! The patient is in shock! We need you now!” A ruptured Type A dissection. The mortality rate is measured in hours. The surgery is the Mount Everest of cardiac procedures. I grabbed my white coat and ran. But as I reached the ER triage desk, a middle-aged woman blocked my path. She was the patient’s wife. Her eyes were red, but her face was filled with suspicion and alarm. She was clutching her phone, the screen displaying the very forum post that had put me on trial. “You’re Zara Khan?” she asked, her eyes raking over me with distrust. “Are you the doctor who’s going on strike over money?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it hit me like a sledgehammer. The family’s doubt was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. The fighting spirit I had just mustered was shattered in an instant. I looked at her, then at the patient in the trauma bay behind her, a life rapidly slipping away, and the whole situation felt absurd. I wanted to explain, but I knew that in the face of inflamed emotions, any explanation would be useless. “I’m not on strike.” She clearly didn’t believe me. She took a step back, as if I were a monster. “I don’t care if you are or not! I won’t let a doctor with no ethics operate on my husband!” “I want a different doctor!” she yelled. “Don’t you have any other experts in this hospital?” The ER chief rushed over. Hearing her words, his face turned green. “Ma’am, please calm down! Dr. Khan is the only surgeon in this hospital who can perform this surgery! If we wait any longer, it will be too late!” “I don’t care! I want someone else!” the woman shrieked stubbornly. At that moment, Mark and Lily arrived. A flicker of satisfaction crossed Mark’s face before he replaced it with a look of deep concern. He approached the woman, his voice gentle. “Ma’am, please don’t be upset. We understand how you feel, but saving your husband is the priority right now. Dr. Khan’s skills are still very reliable…” His words seemed to defend me, but they only served to confirm her belief that my ethics were questionable. Lily, ever the thoughtful one, handed the woman a cup of water. “Ma’am, please try to calm down. Or, perhaps we could ask Dr. Sloan. He’s also a very talented surgeon in our department.” Her suggestion immediately gave the woman a new ray of hope. She grabbed Mark’s hand like a lifeline. “Doctor, you do the surgery! I trust you!” Mark feigned reluctance. “Well… that’s against protocol. Dr. Khan is the attending surgeon…” But his eyes kept darting in my direction, full of challenge. Mr. Harrison and Dr. Evans, having heard the news, came rushing down. Seeing the standoff, the president looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. He pulled me aside, his voice a low, desperate plea. “Zara, I’m begging you. A life is on the line! Just back down for now. Apologize to the family, calm them down!” Apologize? What was I supposed to apologize for? For the bonus I earned with my skills? For the scalpel in my hand that could save a man’s life? I looked at the president’s frantic face, at the smug curl of Mark’s lip, at the innocent, venomous eyes of Lily Chen. And I suddenly felt so tired. I turned to the president and said calmly, “Sir, since the family and my colleagues have so much faith in Dr. Sloan, let him be the lead surgeon. And that transfer request I submitted? Please approve it as soon as possible.” Without another look at anyone, I turned and walked back to my office. Behind me, I heard Dr. Evans’s furious roar, “Zara! Is this a mutiny?” And the president’s weary concession, “…Fine. Sloan, you’re lead. Khan, you’ll supervise.” I didn’t turn back. Supervise? A master teaching a novice? I was afraid he wouldn’t understand the instructions. I locked myself in my office. Through the door, I could feel the controlled chaos of the hallway. Nurses rushing, equipment carts rattling, Mark’s confident voice barking orders, playing the part of the savior. Chris knocked and came in, his eyes red. “Dr. Khan, are you really not going to do anything? That patient… he’s not doing well.” I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and said nothing. My phone vibrated. A text from an unknown number. 【Dr. Khan, I’m the patient’s daughter. My mother is very emotional, but we looked you up. We trust you. Please, I’m begging you, save my father.】 My heart lurched. But what could I do? Mark had already taken the case. If I stormed in now, would I be trying to prove he was incompetent, or trying to steal his glory? In the eyes of people already blinded by prejudice, everything I did would be wrong. I picked up the unapproved request from my desk and signed my name. Time ticked by. One hour. Two hours. Suddenly, my office door was thrown open. Dr. Evans burst in, his face ashen, his lips trembling. “Zara! Something’s happened!” My stomach dropped. I stood up. “Mark… he can’t find the tear! He can’t dissect the vessels of the aortic arch, and now there’s massive bleeding! We can’t get a blood pressure reading!” I had expected this. The most critical and dangerous step of a Type A dissection is reconstructing the three branch vessels of the aortic arch under deep hypothermic circulatory arrest. The vessels there are as thin as a cicada’s wing, the anatomy is complex, and the slightest mistake is catastrophic. Mark’s skills were nowhere near that level. “They need you in there now!” Dr. Evans grabbed my arm, his hand shaking violently. “Hurry! Any later and it will be too late!” I looked at him and asked slowly, “Chief, if I go in there now, what am I? Am I saving a life, or am I cleaning up Dr. Sloan’s mess?” “If the patient lives, the credit is his. He was the ‘lead surgeon,’ and I was the effective ‘supervisor.’ If the patient dies, the blame is mine, because I ‘intervened’ at a critical moment and disrupted his rhythm.” “Either way, he comes out of this unscathed. And me?” Dr. Evans froze. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was right. He was asking me to go, but what guarantees could he offer me? Just then, my phone started ringing frantically. It was the president. I put it on speaker. On the other end, his voice was cracking, on the verge of tears. In the background, I could hear the shrill alarm of a heart monitor and the panicked shouts of nurses. “Zara! For God’s sake! I’m begging you! Get in here! The patient is crashing! Mark has completely lost it!”

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During a life-or-death resuscitation, I used trauma shears to cut open a male patient’s underwear. My fiancé then posted a video of me treating the patient’s wound online with the caption: “I know you’re saving a life, but doesn’t the patient’s privacy matter?” “And the way your hands were all over him down there… it just makes me, your fiancé, really uncomfortable.” The story blew up online. To quell the public outrage, the hospital chose to make an example of me. I was demoted, my entire annual bonus was revoked, and I was given a severe disciplinary warning. After seeing my dedication to saving lives rewarded with the reputation of a predator, I decided to just give up. I wasn’t going to save anyone anymore. And that’s when the entire hospital started to panic. *** 1 “Stella, let this be a lesson to you. We’re about to get married. Even if you’re a doctor, you need to act with a certain decorum!” I stared at him, at the man I was supposed to marry. “Are you done?” Mark froze. “What… what kind of attitude is that?” “You still don’t think you’re wrong?” “Whatever,” I said. With those three words, I felt something inside me shatter completely. Mark’s face flushed a deep red, as if I had just deeply insulted him. “Fine! ‘Whatever’! Stella, we’re through!” “The wedding is off!” he yelled, grabbing his phone from the table and storming out. Dr. Evans, the department head, frowned and tapped her pen on the desk. “Look what you’ve done! Look how upset you’ve made Mark!” “To mitigate the damage, you will write a formal, detailed apology. You will read it aloud at next week’s all-staff meeting and admit to your inappropriate conduct.” I looked at her, saying nothing. Her eyes flickered away for a second before regaining their authoritative glare. “That’s an order. And it’s the only chance you’re getting.” The next day, a formal disciplinary notice was posted on the hospital’s internal network and on the main bulletin board. The wording was harsh: “Improper medical procedure,” “lack of sufficient humanistic care for the patient,” “Dr. Stella Reed is hereby demoted and will forfeit her entire annual performance bonus, as a warning to others.” Every word felt like a public execution. An intern, Chloe, secretly texted me: *Stella, we all believe you. We know you were just trying to save him. But… you should probably just lay low for a while. Dr. Evans is furious.* I turned off my phone. I could have guessed. Dr. Evans’s niece, a recent Ivy League grad named Lauren, had just started last week. Dr. Evans had been looking for a way to promote her, to give her my attending physician position. Mark’s little stunt had given her the perfect excuse. I went back to my desk and silently opened my computer. I organized, printed, and filed all the medical records, surgical notes, and post-op follow-up plans for every critical patient under my care. Then, I formatted the personal drive on my work computer, erasing all of my research data and draft papers. A week later, at the all-staff meeting, Dr. Evans stood at the podium, her voice booming. “…In light of Dr. Stella Reed’s improper conduct, the hospital has decided to revoke her attending physician status.” The room was silent. “And now, please join me in giving a warm welcome to the newest addition to our cardiothoracic surgery department, a Master’s graduate from Johns Hopkins, Dr. Lauren Hayes!” A young woman in a crisp new white coat, her hair perfectly styled, stood up and gave a prim nod to the audience. Dr. Evans looked at her with satisfaction. “Starting today, Dr. Hayes will officially be taking over Dr. Reed’s duties.” I sat in the corner, my face a blank mask. 2 Lauren walked up to my desk and tapped her manicured nails on the surface. “Hey. You can move your stuff now.” Her chin was tilted up, her expression one of undisguised contempt. “Your new desk is over in that corner, where the residents belong. And you’ll need to leave your work computer. I need to check it to make sure you haven’t taken any confidential department files.” I looked up at her, said nothing, and started packing my few personal belongings. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for her. “Oh, and by the way,” she added, “from now on, let’s try to maintain a certain level of professionalism in the department. Try not to act like some back-alley paramedic.” I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. “In that case, could you please enlighten me on the diagnostic criteria and key differential points for Takotsubo cardiomyopathy?” Lauren’s expression froze. She stammered, “Well, of course… that depends on the specific findings of the EKG and echocardiogram… it’s a type of…” I ignored her and went back to my packing. Realizing she was making a fool of herself, she huffed and walked away. I thought back to three years ago, when the hospital’s former president had personally come to the ICU at the state’s top medical center to recruit me. She had held my hand and said, “Stella, come work for us. I’ll give you the most autonomy possible. Your advanced CPR techniques can save so many more lives here.” Thinking about it now, it was a joke. As a resident, my workload was significantly lighter. I was no longer involved in any emergency resuscitations. I followed the resident’s protocol to the letter: rounds, charting, writing orders, signing out on time, and leaving at the end of my shift. Yesterday, a critical patient came in from a car accident. A nurse, out of habit, called for me. I took one look and calmly told her, “Go find Dr. Hayes. She’s the attending.” “But Dr. Hayes is in her office!” the nurse said, panicked. “She said she’s working on an important academic paper!” I didn’t say another word and walked out of the room. After my shift, for the first time in years, I didn’t go to the hospital library to read journals. I went to a fencing club. I put on the heavy protective gear, the helmet, and gripped the cold hilt of the foil, channeling all my anger and frustration into the bout. The next day, Lauren posted a file in the department’s group chat. The file was titled, “A Trial Implementation for Optimizing Departmental Charting Standards and Aligning with International Best Practices for Medical Documentation.” It was a ten-page PDF filled with complex charts and definitions, outlining a brand-new charting template. It required all medical terminology to be written out in its full, official name as designated by the American Medical Association, prohibiting the use of any common abbreviations. It also added numerous sections for data analysis and literature citations. The group chat went dead silent. A few seconds later, my phone started blowing up with private messages from my colleagues: *Stella, what is this woman doing? Writing a patient chart like it’s a PhD dissertation?* *Is she insane? We’re here to treat patients, not create fancy paperwork.* *During rounds today, she insisted a nurse say ‘cardiac pulsation frequency’ instead of ‘heart rate.’ It’s ridiculous!* *This isn’t ‘aligning with international standards,’ it’s just creating unnecessary work for us! By the time we finish one of her charts for an ER patient, the patient will be dead!* *She’s a total PowerPoint doctor. All theory, no practice.* I looked at Lauren’s condescending announcement in the group chat and said nothing. An older colleague messaged me privately, asking what some of the “standardized terms” in the document meant. I quietly explained them to him and then turned off my phone. My complete “slacking off” and Lauren’s clueless micromanagement created a stark contrast in the department. I used to be the backbone of the team. No matter how complex the emergency, everyone felt at ease when I was there. Now, whenever a critical case came in, the department descended into chaos. Lauren would just stand on the sidelines, barking orders using the “standard terminology” from her new guidelines, but never lifting a finger herself. The resentment among my colleagues grew. People started reminiscing about my efficiency and leadership. I knew what they were waiting for—for a real crisis to hit. 3 I submitted my vacation request to Dr. Evans—a full thirty days, the vacation time I had accumulated over five years. Her face darkened the moment she saw the form. “Stella, what is the meaning of this?” She threw the paper at me. “The department is short-staffed right now. Are you taking this much time off just to spite me?” She lowered her voice, her tone threatening. “Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re a resident. You have a long career ahead of you! If you piss me off, I have plenty of ways to make sure you never work in this industry again! If you keep this up, it won’t just be a demotion. Do you believe I’ll just fire you?” I didn’t say anything. I took out the results of a recent physical exam from my pocket and placed them on her desk. “Dr. Evans, I’ve been having heart palpitations lately. My doctor recommended I take some time off to rest.” My voice was calm. “Long-term, high-stress work isn’t good for the heart. As a senior physician, you should understand that better than anyone.” She picked up the report, her face turning shades of red and white, but she couldn’t find a reason to argue. “Hmph!” She snorted and angrily signed my vacation form. As I was about to leave, Mark appeared, holding Lauren’s hand. “Well, well, if it isn’t Dr. Reed,” he said sarcastically. “What, a little setback and you’re running away?” Lauren added smugly, “Some people just can’t handle the pressure. In the programs I came from, they would have been weeded out long ago.” Mark chimed in, “Don’t think the department can’t function without you. Let me tell you, Lauren is way better than you. She’s a real professional.” I didn’t bother responding and walked out of the office. The head nurse stopped me at the end of the hall. “Dr. Reed.” She pressed an apple into my hand. “Do you remember that male patient you saved the other day?” I nodded. “He’s the only son of the chairman of Apex Corporation. The chairman sent someone to ask about you. He wanted to thank you personally.” The nurse sighed. “Unfortunately, Dr. Evans intercepted them. She said it was a team effort, and that your supervisor, Dr. Hayes, provided excellent guidance. You’re just too honest, Stella. You don’t know how to fight for yourself.” I just nodded, thinking to myself, *You can’t handle that thank you.* I boarded the train back to my hometown. Just as the train started moving, Chloe, the intern, called, her voice on the verge of tears. “Stella! It’s bad! Something terrible has happened! The chairman of Apex Corporation just had a massive heart attack and was brought to our hospital!” My stomach dropped. “Lauren is the attending. She looked at the EKG and diagnosed it as an acute MI, but the patient has a history of a rare drug allergy, so she’s afraid to use the standard thrombolytic drugs! She’s been staring at her tablet for half an hour, muttering about ‘evidence-based medicine,’ but she won’t make a decision! And she’s too scared to risk an emergency angioplasty, so now she’s trying to get the family to sign a transfer consent form!” Chloe’s voice was choked with sobs. “Stella, it’s an acute MI! Every minute counts! How can they transfer him now?” Just then, my phone rang again. It was Dr. Evans. I hung up on Chloe and answered. Dr. Evans’s roar came through the phone. “Stella Reed! You get your ass back here right now! If anything happens to the chairman of Apex, I’ll have your license!” I held the phone away from my ear until she was done screaming, then replied calmly, “Dr. Evans, first, I am currently on vacation. Second, I am just a resident. I am not qualified, nor do I have the authority, to handle a patient of this severity. Isn’t the highly-educated, Ivy League graduate Dr. Hayes the expert in handling these kinds of complex cases?” Then, I hung up. 4 Chloe texted me again, her words filled with terror: *Stella, the chairman’s condition worsened in the ambulance during the transfer! His heart even stopped once!* *The family is going crazy! They called the hospital president directly and are threatening to hold the hospital fully responsible!* *The whole hospital is in an uproar! The president and all the vice presidents are in our department now!* A moment later, another text came through: *Dr. Evans is spreading a rumor that you deliberately withheld the Apex chairman’s special case file to sabotage Lauren! She’s saying you hid a key allergy report, which is why Lauren couldn’t make the right call! She’s telling everyone you knew about the chairman’s condition and kept quiet just to watch Lauren fail!* I looked at the screen and laughed coldly. Her ability to shift blame was truly an art form. As if that wasn’t enough, another critical patient in the department, who had just undergone a bypass surgery, suddenly went into ventricular fibrillation. The monitor’s alarm blared. Chloe’s “live stream” continued: *Lauren is frantically ordering the nurses to bring the defibrillator. They’ve shocked him several times, but there’s no response! She even set the energy level wrong! A nurse tried to correct her, and she yelled at them!* *The head nurse is saying they need to put him on ECMO immediately! It’s the last hope!* ECMO, extracorporeal membrane oxygenation. The top-of-the-line machine our department had spent millions on, imported from Germany. It was known as the “ark of life.” *Lauren went to start the ECMO, but the machine failed to initialize and kept alarming! The head nurse was yelling, ‘Only Dr. Reed is familiar with the startup procedure and calibration parameters for this machine! She’s the only one who ever operates it! Don’t touch it!’* *But Lauren just pushed her aside impatiently. ‘I’ve used these machines in Europe. The principles are all the same! What does a nurse know? The previous settings must have been wrong, not up to the latest international standards!’* *She forced a reboot of the machine and tried to directly modify the core operating parameters!* *Stella, it’s bad! The ECMO is smoking!* With Lauren’s forceful manipulation, the ECMO machine let out a piercing screech, the screen flashed, and then went black. The smell of burning plastic filled the air. The multi-million dollar “ark of life” was completely fried. Two critical patients. One, whose golden hour for treatment had been wasted, was now clinging to life. The other, who had lost his last line of support, was about to flatline. The cries and curses of the family members, mixed with the blaring of the monitors, turned the entire cardiothoracic department into a scene of utter chaos. The hospital president’s face was ashen. She looked like she was about to faint. With a trembling hand, she personally called the ECMO manufacturer’s engineer in Germany for help. The German on the other end, in broken English, regretfully informed her that the nearest engineer was in Europe and it would take at least two days for them to fly over. A sense of despair settled over everyone. Just as the president was about to hang up, the German engineer added, “Perhaps you could contact the team of Professor Anderson, who assisted us with the initial device calibration. I remember he had a brilliant protégé, a Dr. Reed, I believe. I think she works at your hospital.” The president’s hand froze in mid-air. She whipped her head around and stared at Dr. Evans. The color drained from Dr. Evans’s face, leaving it paler than a corpse. She knew better than anyone that the brilliant protégé of the nation’s leading expert in cardiopulmonary medicine, the Dr. Reed the engineer was talking about, was the very person she had just driven out of the hospital, the person who was currently on a train, on vacation—me, Stella Reed.

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After I started college, my mom suggested I use a credit card for my living expenses, promising to transfer me the money to pay it off at the end of the month. But when the bill was due, she claimed she hadn’t been paid yet and told me to figure it out myself. Panicked, I was searching online for the consequences of a late credit card payment when I stumbled upon a forum post. 【My daughter started talking back to me after she went to college. How do I get her back in line?】 Someone in the comments had a suggestion: 【Simple. Cut off her allowance and make her use a credit card.】 【Trust me, when the bill is due at the end of the month, just drag your feet on giving her the money. She’ll be begging you. She’ll be more obedient than a dog.】 1 I got back to my dorm, exhausted, after cleaning my cousin’s apartment. Earlier that day, I had asked my mom for the money to pay my credit card bill. She hemmed and hawed, saying she was short on cash. She told me to go clean my cousin’s place—he worked in the same city—and my aunt would pay me the market rate of a hundred bucks. With that, she said, she could probably scrape together enough to send me. I hated the idea, but I was desperate. I took a cab across town to my cousin’s apartment, which hadn’t been cleaned in two weeks, and threw out a mountain of old takeout containers. When I got back to the dorm, I asked my mom when she was sending the money. She was evasive again. A sense of dread washed over me. The day before yesterday, she said, “Don’t worry about it.” Yesterday, she said, “Just wait a little longer.” Today, it was the same story. The bill was due in two days. Gritting my teeth, I searched online for the consequences of a late credit card payment. That’s when a forum post caught my eye. 【My daughter started talking back to me after she went to college. How do I get her back in line?】 I clicked on it instinctively. The original poster explained that her daughter had always been sweet and obedient, but after going away to college, she had become “wild” and had even talked back to her. She wanted to know how to make her daughter apologize. A user named “IronHeart” offered some advice: 【Simple. Cut off her allowance and make her use a credit card.】 【Trust me, when the bill is due at the end of the month, just drag your feet on giving her the money. She’ll be begging you. She’ll be more obedient than a dog.】 Hundreds of people were flaming her in the replies. 【Are you raising a child or a dog?】 【If you couldn’t afford a kid, why didn’t you just buy a condom?】 【Treat your kid like that and don’t be surprised if she jumps off a bridge one day.】 But the original poster, “HappyFlower,” was genuinely asking: 【Does this really work?】 IronHeart: 【Of course. I’ve been doing it to my daughter since she was a freshman. She’s a senior now and wouldn’t dare say no to me.】 【Kids with no financial independence are the easiest to control. If you don’t get a handle on her now, it’ll be too late once she starts earning her own money.】 【And who is she trying to threaten by jumping off a bridge? The more you indulge her, the more arrogant she gets. Are you going to let your own child walk all over you?】 【If she really jumped, it would just prove she wasn’t worthy of being my child. If she died, I’d scatter her ashes in a sewer.】 The words were shocking, monstrous. I felt a pang of sympathy for this stranger’s daughter. But it was clear that HappyFlower was taking the advice to heart. She had even “liked” the comment. After that, the two of them stopped interacting, but other users kept bumping the thread. I checked the timestamp on HappyFlower’s original post. It was from exactly one month ago—the same time my mom and I had a huge fight. A terrible feeling started to grow in the pit of my stomach. A month ago, my mom had called and screamed at me, accusing me of being a thief, of eating her food and using her things and then stealing from her. She said I was destined for a life in prison. Then she hung up. I was completely bewildered. After a few frantic calls, I found out from my aunt that my mom’s new gold necklace was missing, and she was convinced I had taken it. But I had been at school, over a thousand miles away. How could I have possibly stolen it? I was furious and humiliated. For the first time in my life, I refused to back down. I argued with her, telling her she was being unfair and accusing me without any proof. Later, my mom found the necklace somewhere. She called to apologize, saying she had misunderstood. Then, her tone shifted. She started talking about how she was getting old, how her company was struggling and her paychecks were late. She asked me to use a credit card for my living expenses for a while, and she would pay it off at the end of the month. Her voice, full of weariness and despair, weighed on me like a stone. I was overwhelmed with guilt, so I agreed. But now, a month later, when I asked for the money, she kept changing her story. We weren’t rich, but we were comfortable. And there was the settlement money from my dad’s accident. My mom had said she was saving it for my college education. There was no way she couldn’t come up with eight hundred dollars. 2 I still didn’t want to believe that HappyFlower was my mom. She was strict and controlling, yes, but she loved me. She would eat ramen for a month just to afford my expensive tutoring sessions. She wouldn’t do something like this to hurt me. But… my rational mind told me it couldn’t be a coincidence. The time of the post and the user’s IP address both matched my mom’s. With trembling hands, I opened my messaging app and typed a tentative message to her: 【Mom, my credit card bill is due in two days. If it’s late, it will affect my credit score.】 【Can you please just send me the $800 to pay it off? If things are really tight, I can get a part-time job next month and earn my own living expenses. Is that okay?】 I don’t know what I said that set her off. 【Jessica, are you trying to use your ‘poor college student’ act to manipulate me?】 【Have I ever let you go hungry? Have I ever let you go without?】 【Don’t you dare even think about getting one of those ‘improper’ part-time jobs. How long do you think you can sell your youth for?】 【How could you do this to me? How could you do this to your father’s memory?!】 … The stinging words made me feel like my mom was right there, screaming in my ear. My head was buzzing. I felt a rush of blood to my head and almost fainted. Why did she automatically assume that any job I got would be “improper”? Is it normal for a mother to talk to her daughter like that? And she was the one deliberately withholding my living expenses to control me. I couldn’t hold back my anger anymore: 【Then what do you want me to do? I have no money. How am I supposed to pay the bill?】 【I just started college! I don’t want to be labeled a deadbeat!】 My mom: 【I never said I wouldn’t pay it. I just said things are tight right now. Can’t you be a little more understanding?】 【You don’t earn a single penny, all you do is ask for money. Do you think it’s easy for a single mother to support a college student?】 A deep sense of guilt and self-loathing washed over me again. I knew it wasn’t easy for her. After I graduated high school, I got a summer job to try and help out. But when she found out, she mocked me, saying I was too stupid and would just cause trouble for my boss, and she’d have to clean up my messes. I tried to explain that my boss had praised me for being a hard worker, that he really liked me. The look in my mom’s eyes changed then, but she didn’t say anything more. The next day, I found out she had broken her leg in a fall and was in the hospital. I had to quit my job to take care of her. I wanted to get a job in college, but my schedule was packed with classes, and I had club activities and labs on the weekends. I clutched my phone, feeling a profound sense of helplessness. My mom sent another message: 【Jessica, instead of fighting with me over $800, you should take a good, long look at yourself!】 A good, long look at myself? I let out a bitter laugh as tears streamed down my face. 3 I didn’t reply. I just put my phone on silent. All I wanted was to escape the drama with my mom, the fear of becoming a defaulter, the shame of being broke. I just wanted to climb into bed and sleep. I hoped the world would end tomorrow so I could just disappear. My three roommates could tell something was wrong. They all moved around the room quietly. I was touched, but I didn’t even have the energy to say thank you. That night, I had a series of nightmares. In one, I was a child and had done something wrong. My mom pushed me out of the house, screaming that if I was so independent, I shouldn’t spend her money or live in her house. I defiantly started to walk away, but she grabbed me and told me to give her back the life she had given me. In another, we were at the zoo. She asked me what animal was in the cage. I just said “ape,” instead of giving its full scientific classification. She got angry and said she had spent money to bring me here to learn, not to have fun. In another, we were on the street and a trivia show was filming. She pushed me onto the stage to participate. When I couldn’t answer a question, she was so embarrassed that she blended into the crowd and went home without me. A kind woman eventually brought me home, and my mom yelled at her for being a busybody, then mocked me for having the nerve to come back. In another, I was in a college classroom, and someone burst in and demanded I pay them back. All my classmates and the professor were staring at me. I woke up feeling exhausted. The world hadn’t ended. The eight-hundred-dollar debt still hung over my head like a guillotine, waiting to fall. The irony was, I didn’t have a single relative or friend I could borrow eight hundred dollars from. If I asked a relative, I knew my mom would find out in a second. And as for friends… in middle school, my mom only allowed me to shower and wash my hair once a week, because it would “waste study time.” My phone lit up. A text from the credit card company, reminding me that my payment was due tomorrow. And the forum post had been updated. HappyFlower had replied to IronHeart: 【I used your method. For the past two days, she’s been doing whatever I tell her to.】 【She’s always been a pushover. It won’t be long before she comes crawling back to me.】 Her smugness was palpable. I let out a small laugh and, for the last time, I swallowed my pride. I sent a calm message: 【Mom, what do I have to do for you to give me the money?】 The reply came almost instantly, as if she had been waiting for me to surrender. 【Write a 5000-word self-criticism essay, and record a half-hour video reflecting on why you yelled at me the other day. And you have to promise to stop your old habit of stealing. If I’m satisfied, I’ll give you the money.】 My old habit of stealing? My eyes stung. During winter break in elementary school, I fell and scraped my knee. My teacher took me to the clinic and paid for the medicine. When I got home, I asked my mom for twenty dollars to pay her back. She snapped at me, saying it was just a small cut and didn’t need any medicine, and that the teacher should have paid for it. I was mortified. After a long internal struggle, I took twenty dollars from her wallet. She caught me in the act. Not only did I never pay the teacher back, but from then on, at every family gathering, she would tell the story as a funny anecdote. After that, whenever something went missing in the house, she would accuse me of having a relapse. And if something went missing at a relative’s house, they would call my mom and subtly ask if I had taken anything home with me. I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. The last glimmer of hope died. I blocked her number. The extreme panic of being in debt made my stomach cramp. I ran to the bathroom and retched, but only bitter bile came up. I splashed cold water on my face and looked at the dark circles under my eyes in the mirror. I started to think about how I could possibly make eight hundred dollars in two days. 4 It was the weekend. My roommates were still asleep as I quietly left the dorm. It was early. I walked down the street, looking at the “help wanted” signs in the shop windows. My heart sank with each one I read. The highest daily wage for a part-time job was no more than eighty dollars. It was impossible to make eight hundred dollars in two days. And my family’s financial situation didn’t qualify me for student aid. But there was no time to waste. I walked into a fast-food restaurant and asked the manager if they were hiring students. He looked me up and down, saw my desperation, and agreed. I threw myself into the work, not even stopping to eat, trying to ignore the crushing weight of the number hanging over my head. When I got back to the dorm at nine o’clock that night, I noticed a strange atmosphere among my roommates. But I was too tired to care. My bones ached. I scarfed down the leftovers I had brought back from the restaurant, the hunger hitting me all at once. My phone started ringing. It was my mom. She had probably been waiting all day for my essay and video confession. When they didn’t arrive, she must have tried to message me and realized she was blocked. I stared numbly at the name on the screen, switched my phone to silent, and dragged my heavy body to the bathroom to get ready for another day of work. When I came back, the calls had stopped, replaced by a flood of text messages. 【Jessica, you think you’re so grown up now, giving me the silent treatment?!】 【I guess I’ve been too nice to you, and now you don’t know your place.】 【If I had known you were going to be such an ungrateful brat, I would have strangled you at birth!】 But the vicious curses that used to cut me to the core no longer had any effect. … The next day was the same. I left early and came back late. No matter how hard I tried not to think about it, the deadline was approaching. There were four hours left until the payment was due. I looked at the one hundred and sixty dollars in my bank account. My body went numb. I sat in my chair until the lights went out, until my roommates had all gone to bed, and I didn’t move. My mom had been sending me angry texts all day. I hadn’t responded to a single one. Finally, she went back to the forum to ask IronHeart for help: 【This method isn’t really working!】 【My daughter’s credit card bill is due tonight, but she’s blocked me and won’t reply to anything.】 IronHeart: 【Stay strong. This is a battle of wills. If you give in now, all your previous efforts will be wasted, and you’ll have to give in forever.】 HappyFlower: 【But I’ve invested so much in raising her. What if she really defaults? Will it affect her future career?】 IronHeart: 【You win some, you lose some. If she can’t get a job at a big company, she can just come back to your small town and find a job near you.】 【And kids these days are so sensitive about their reputation. Just blow it up…】 I was wondering how my mom was going to “blow it up” when there was a knock on our dorm room door. Several of my class officers and my academic advisor were standing outside, out of breath. “Is Jessica in her room?” “Her mom said she can’t get in touch with her!” “She said Jessica stole something and is in debt, and that she’s working an ‘improper’ job to pay it off!”

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I was reborn on the day the most popular guy in school was caught stealing from my family’s convenience store. This time, instead of pulling him into the back room to talk, I called the police. My childhood friend and high school heartthrob, Leo, was detained for fifteen days. I used those fifteen days to cut off all contact with him. From then on, if he organized a class event, I was suddenly deathly ill. If he went to the coast for vacation, I went to the desert. Basically: if he was at a party, I was sick. If he was home, I was out of the country. If he was in school, I dropped out. I avoided any and all situations where we might cross paths. In my past life, I loved him for twenty years. But in those twenty years, he never once looked at me with anything but contempt. It wasn’t until our house caught fire that I finally understood. I shielded him and our daughter from the flames, pushing them out the window to safety. They were unharmed. I was burned beyond recognition. But my daughter, the child I had raised with all my heart, turned to the other woman—his first love—and said, “She deserved it. She’s the one who broke you and Dad up. She should have died.” My husband stood beside them, his eyes wet with tears. “I was so afraid I’d never see you again,” he whispered to the other woman. I died consumed by hatred. Reborn, I decided that if he loved his first love so much, I would let them have each other. 1 “Take out what’s in your bag!” “I didn’t steal anything.” “We saw you on the security camera! Don’t make us call the police.” … The shouting woke me up. I forced my eyes open, and the scene before me made me freeze. It was my family’s convenience store, from over a decade ago. The store that held so many of my childhood memories, the store my parents had sold to buy me a house in the city so I could marry Leo. I looked toward the commotion. Two cashiers were yelling at a boy in a school uniform. And that boy was my former husband, Leo. But this time, I didn’t step in to save him. I just dialed 911. “Hello? There’s a shoplifter here.” The police arrived quickly. After reviewing the security footage and taking statements, they took Leo away. He hadn’t stolen much. The officer said he’d probably be held for about fifteen days. Even one of our oldest employees, Mr. Henderson, thought I had gone too far. “Mia, don’t you think that’s a bit much? He’s just a kid. A good talking-to would have been enough. How is he supposed to go to school now?” “It’s for his own good, Mr. Henderson,” I said. “If he steals things when he’s young, he’ll steal people when he’s older.” Without another word, I left the store. Walking down the familiar streets, I couldn’t help but think about my past life. Leo’s family was poor. When I found out he was stealing, I took him to the back room and asked him what was going on. I told my parents, and they felt sorry for him. They ended up sponsoring his education all the way through college. I took care of him like a little brother for years. After we graduated, his disabled mother pushed us to get married. I never would have dreamed that the man I shared a bed with secretly believed I had forced him into marriage, that I had torn him away from his true love, a girl named Chloe. He even turned our daughter against me, making her believe I was a villain. So much so that when I was dying from the burns I sustained protecting them, they were lamenting the fact that they had almost lost Chloe. In my final moments, I just wanted my husband and daughter to be with me, but all I got were their cruel words. “If you hadn’t broken up Dad and Aunt Chloe, none of this would have happened. Stop clinging to him. He deserves to be happy.” “Why don’t you just die already? You’re always using your ‘sacrifices’ to guilt-trip me. I’m so sick of it. Chloe was the one who made me realize that this fire was just another one of your pathetic attempts to get attention, wasn’t it, Mia?” The two people I loved most in the world, saying those things to me as I lay dying. Anger, despair, sadness… it all faded into a numb emptiness. I watched them run to another hospital room to take care of Chloe, who had a cold. And then, I closed my eyes for the last time. But fate had given me a second chance. And this time, I wasn’t going to get involved. If he was hungry, the detention center served three meals a day. 2 During the days Leo was in detention, I systematically eliminated any possibility of our paths crossing in the future. In my past life, we had ended up at the same university. This time, I changed my application and went to a school in New York City. I meticulously planned out every other detail to ensure we would never meet again. My plan was to have everything settled within the fifteen days and then go on a trip with my parents. But four days later, at a class reunion, I saw him again. I guess the police, considering he still had to apply for college, had just given him a warning and let him go. But the news that he had been arrested for shoplifting had already spread. At the reunion, most of our classmates were giving him strange looks. Not that it had anything to do with me. But when I saw the hatred in his eyes, I knew. Leo had been reborn, too. Our classmates were excitedly talking about their college plans. The food hadn’t arrived yet when the door to our private room was thrown open. A girl with a rebellious streak and a defiant look in her eyes stormed in. “Mia, what the hell is your problem!” It was Chloe, Leo’s first love, a girl who had never cared much for school. I glanced at her, not bothering to answer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leo’s face light up. I couldn’t help but remember the twenty years of my past life, how Leo had always looked at me with such coldness. No matter what I did for him, for our family, he never showed me a shred of warmth. Even on the day our daughter was born, his eyes were filled with resentment. I never understood it then. I thought it was just his nature, that his difficult childhood had robbed him of the ability to be happy. So I tried everything to make him smile. I’d buy him gifts with my bonuses, I’d plan family outings. But all I ever got was, “What’s the point? I’d rather just be alone.” The indifference in his eyes cut me to the core. My silence seemed to infuriate Chloe. She grabbed a handful of my hair. “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” “Leo’s family is struggling! His mom hasn’t eaten in three days! If you’re so worried about the money, I’ll pay you back!” “We’re all classmates! How could you be so cruel? He only took a little food because he had no other choice! And you had to get him a criminal record? Are you even human?” Chloe’s eyes were red with anger. Her words sent a wave of whispers through the room. “I heard Leo’s dad left and his mom is sick. I guess that’s why he did it.” “Still, you can’t just steal things.” “What would you do if your mom was starving and you had no money?” … Listening to them, I just felt a cold emptiness. They didn’t understand. In my past life, I had felt sorry for him, so my family had supported him for years. It wasn’t until I was engulfed in flames that I finally realized: not everyone is worth saving. I ignored their whispers and said, “Fine. Pay me back.” 3 The room fell silent. Chloe was speechless. Leo’s face paled, and he quickly stood up and came between us. “Mia, I’m sorry about what happened. Please, let’s just drop it. We won’t be seeing each other again anyway.” I glanced at him, saying nothing. The way he emphasized that we wouldn’t be seeing each other again confirmed it. He had been reborn, too. That was fine with me. Twenty years of his coldness had taught me that some hearts can never be warmed. And not only was his heart cold, but he had a way of making everyone around him cold, too. In my past life, our daughter, whom I had cherished, had come to despise me because of his words. Chloe had won her over with a simple birthday cake. But my daughter was allergic to too much cream. They didn’t care about that. All they cared about was that I had “torn them apart.” Fine. This time, I wouldn’t interfere with their love story. “Leo, you don’t have to be afraid of her,” Chloe said. “Let everyone see what a heartless person she is. Anyone who wouldn’t help a classmate whose mother is starving… I wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like that. Who knows when she’ll turn on us.” She looked around the room. The other students were now looking at me with disapproval. Leo’s eyes were filled with contempt and resentment. “Leo is so strong. I always knew his family was struggling, but he never said anything.” “Leo, you should have told us. We would have helped you.” “Don’t worry, Leo. You’re a great guy. Things will get better.” “Don’t listen to her, Leo. She has no compassion. We’re all here for you. No one will misunderstand you.” … The other students were now all on his side, as if I were the villain. But in my past life, I had supported him for four years and taken care of him for twenty. What had I done wrong to deserve such an end? A single tear rolled down Leo’s cheek. “Thank… thank you, everyone.” A flicker of emotion crossed his face, an expression I had never seen before. No matter what I did for him in our past life, he had always been a block of ice. I didn’t watch their performance. I didn’t want to have anything to do with them anymore. After this dinner, the past would be the past. But some people just couldn’t let it go. “Mia, you still have the nerve to sit here and eat?” Chloe said, annoyed. I was getting tired of the drama. “So, you’re saying that stealing is okay?” “Are you a monster? Don’t you have a heart? Stealing is wrong, but look at Leo’s situation! And you’re still acting so high and mighty!” It wasn’t just Chloe anymore. Other students were standing up and defending him. “Mia, I always thought you were a decent person. But you’re just like all those rich people. You have no heart.” “Yeah, Mia. You’re a monster. Your family is the wealthiest in our class, but you wouldn’t even help a classmate in need.” “And you got him a criminal record! What’s he going to do now? I’m disgusted to have been in the same class as you.” … I took a deep breath and looked at Leo. His eyes were filled with a smug pride. Now that he had people on his side, he wasn’t afraid anymore. I put down my chopsticks. “Alright, let me say something.” “What do you have to say? You don’t deserve to speak.” “Let’s just hear what kind of nonsense this heartless person has to say.” I looked around the room, my gaze finally resting on Leo. He flinched, but then Chloe took his hand, and he seemed to regain his composure, staring back at me defiantly. I shook my head and decided to just tell them everything. “When Leo was taken away, I brought his mother rice, flour, oil, and groceries.” “For years, whenever his mother came to our store, I never charged her. I would even find excuses to give her extra things.” “And Leo has been taking things from our store without paying since middle school. My family never said a word.” “But he got greedy. He started taking more than just school supplies and food. Sometimes, he would even take small pieces of jewelry.” “Like the necklace Chloe is wearing right now.” “Since Chloe offered to pay, we have security footage and evidence. You can come to the store and settle the bill.” “And the reason I called the police is because he’s going to college soon. He can’t keep this habit.” “Since you all think I did the wrong thing, then from now on, let’s just not see each other again.” “Especially you, Leo. I hope you and Chloe have a good life.” With that, I stood up and walked out of the room. 4 The room was silent. The information I had just dropped was too much for them to process. They didn’t dare to think that I was lying, because everything I had said could be easily verified. If I had made it all up, I would look like a fool. And I had mentioned security footage. Leo’s eyes were red with a hatred he couldn’t conceal. Chloe’s face was a mask of fury. But none of that mattered to me anymore. I had only said those things to change their perception of me. Connections are always useful, no need to throw them all away. In a few months, I would be in New York City. As for Leo, I hoped he and his little rebel would be happy together. Chloe’s family wasn’t much better off than his. She had no ambition, no drive. It was unlikely they would have a good life. But for some reason, Leo believed that Chloe was the only one who understood him, that she was his soulmate. He had held onto that belief for twenty years. This time, I was curious to see where his “soulmate” would lead him. The next few days were quiet. As I had expected, Chloe didn’t come to the store to pay. But while Leo and Chloe were nowhere to be seen, Leo’s mother showed up. “Mia, I heard that Leo has been taking things from your store without paying.” Leo’s mother was a small, frail woman with a limp. She looked down, her whole body hunched over, the picture of misery. She carefully took out a wad of crumpled bills from her cloth bag. “Mia, Leo is not a bad boy. It’s my fault I can’t provide for him. How much does he owe you? I’ll pay you back.” Seeing her, the woman who had been so kind to me in my past life, my heart ached. No matter how Leo had treated me, his mother had always been loving and supportive. Whenever I came home to visit, she would wake up early, limp to the market, and spend hours cooking a feast for me. The thought that I might never see her again was painful. I didn’t know how this woman, who lived on welfare and the little money she made from sewing, would survive. I quickly helped her up. “Mrs. Davis, you don’t have to do this. It’s not a lot of money. I’m not worried about it. It’s just that Leo is going to college soon, and he can’t keep this habit.” “There are work-study programs in college now. If he works hard, he might even be able to help you out. You’ll have a better life soon.” I went and got the bags of rice, flour, and oil I had already prepared for her. “To celebrate Leo getting into college, let me help you carry these home.” I had packed a lot, knowing she wouldn’t be able to carry it all herself. “No, no, Mia. I can’t take your things for free.” She backed away, waving her hands. I sighed. Mrs. Davis was a good, grateful person. How had she raised a son like Leo? After much persuasion, I finally convinced her to let me help her carry the groceries home. I had intended for this to be our last interaction, but when we got to her apartment, we ran into Leo and Chloe, holding hands. When Leo saw me with his mother, his eyes turned to ice. He quickly walked over, pulled his mother behind him, and said hostilely, “What are you doing here?” Seeing him like this, I felt nothing. The past twenty years had taught me exactly what kind of man he was. His opinion of me no longer mattered.

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During Amber Lin’s darkest year, campus tyrant Rex Shannon assaulted her and posted the video online. I stopped her from jumping off a campus rooftop. She spent five years devouring law books, becoming a brilliant attorney. At the peak of her success, she publicly proposed to me. The media called us the perfect couple. But at City Hall, Rex pulled up in a sports car, kissed her possessively, and smirked at me. “Thanks, buddy. Couldn’t have gotten this top-tier girlfriend without you. You can be our wedding witness.” My blood froze. Amber lowered her eyes—her silence said everything. In that moment, I understood. 1 Rex’s hand was still on Amber’s waist, a clear declaration of ownership. I stared at her, the last five years of my life flashing before my eyes, a dizzying montage that ended with the image of her pale, haunted face on that rooftop. “Leo,” she had whispered that day, “if I’m going to live, I’ll live only for you.” Now, she wouldn’t even give me the courtesy of a glance. Her attention was fixed on the hem of her dress, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle. It was the dress I had picked out for her. She’d said getting the license should still feel special. The irony was a physical blow. “Leo, don’t make a scene,” she finally said, her voice unnervingly calm. “Let’s just go inside and get this over with. Don’t give people a reason to talk.” Her words made Rex laugh. He reached into the pocket of his ridiculously flashy jacket, pulled out a stack of photographs, and fanned them into my face. They fluttered to the ground around my feet. Each one was a picture of them from the night before, in a hotel room. On the sprawling bed, Amber, wearing a scandalously flimsy slip dress, was kissing Rex with a raw, desperate passion I had never seen. A bomb went off in my head. I remembered last night. Amber, who rarely drank, had gotten completely wasted. She came home and kissed me with a wild, frantic energy, clinging to me as if she were drowning. “Leo, I love you, I only love you…” she’d repeated over and over, as if trying to convince me, or maybe herself. In the middle of it, her phone had buzzed. The moment she saw the caller ID, the color drained from her face. She shoved me away. I reached for her, my voice hoarse. “What’s wrong?” She avoided my eyes, her voice laced with panic. “We’re getting married tomorrow. I’m… I’m just a little nervous. I need to be alone for a bit.” She had fled our apartment and never came back. It wasn’t nerves. She was rushing to keep an appointment with another man. I bent down, my movements stiff, and picked up every single photograph. I walked over to Amber. She instinctively took a step back. A bitter laugh escaped me. I tore the photos into a thousand tiny pieces. Then, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. Inside was the diamond ring I’d spent three months’ salary on. As Amber’s pupils contracted in shock, I took two steps back and tossed the box into a nearby storm drain. The soft splash was the final, definitive end to our five years. “Leo!” Amber’s face was now ashen. “What do you think you’re doing?” “What am I doing?” I repeated, the words choking me. “You’re asking me what I’m doing?” Rex stepped in front of her, jabbing a finger in my face. “Don’t push your luck, kid. If you ruin my day, you won’t be walking away from here.” I ignored him. My eyes were fixed on Amber, the girl I thought I had pulled back from hell itself. I was wrong. She’d never left. She’d just found a new way to live in it, in a gilded cage Rex had built for her. I turned, reached into my briefcase, and pulled out another file. This was the real wedding gift I had prepared for her. A comprehensive dossier detailing Rex Shannon’s history of campus bullying, business fraud, rape, and bribery. For five years, while I worked myself to the bone to pay for her education, I had been quietly gathering every scrap of evidence. I had thought that letting her be the one to put this monster behind bars would be the ultimate catharsis, the final act of her rebirth. But now, she was standing with the monster. I walked straight to a police officer who was handling a minor traffic dispute nearby. Under Amber and Rex’s stunned gazes, I handed him the heavy file. “Officer, I’d like to file a report.” I pointed first at Rex, then at Amber. “Against Rex Shannon. For bullying, rape…” Amber’s composure finally shattered. She rushed toward me, trying to snatch the file from my hands, but the officer blocked her way. She looked at me, her eyes void of guilt or remorse. There was only a cold, burning hatred. Then, without a backward glance, she got into Rex’s obscenely red sports car. The sound of sirens filled the air as I was escorted into the back of a police cruiser. Through the window, I watched the red car carrying my fiancée disappear down the street. My bride had run off with her rapist. And I, on my wedding day, was on my way to jail. 2 “The chain of evidence is weak, and too much time has passed. It’ll be very difficult to build a case.” In the sterile interrogation room, a young officer shook his head as he looked through the file I’d given him. I sat on the cold metal chair, the words not registering. My mind was a relentless loop of the last five years. To send Amber to the best law school overseas, I’d worked three jobs a day. Construction sites in the morning, washing dishes at a restaurant at night, and food delivery in the dead of morning. She suffered from severe PTSD. Nightmares would rip her from sleep, and she’d wake up screaming. I would hold her, night after night, whispering, “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe.” I thought I had pulled her from the abyss. I never imagined she would willingly jump back in. The door to the room creaked open. Amber walked in, flanked by a high-powered legal team. Her makeup was flawless, her expression unreadable. She looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. A ridiculous spark of hope ignited in my chest. Was she here to help me? Did she still care? My delusion was shattered a second later. She placed a crisp legal document on the table in front of me, her voice as cold as the steel table. “Leo, I am Mr. Rex Shannon’s legal counsel. I am formally requesting that you retract your baseless accusations and issue a public apology to my client. Your actions constitute slander and false accusation.” I stared at the document. The words “legal counsel” burned into my retinas. I looked up at the face I had loved for five years, my voice trembling. “Amber, have you forgotten what you said to me on that rooftop? You said you would make monsters like Rex pay. You said you would use the law to protect people like you. Have you forgotten all of it?” Her expression didn’t flicker. A small, mocking smile touched her lips. “You have to look forward, Leo.” She sat across from me, crossing her legs elegantly. “I just want to survive. To live a better life. You can’t hold my future hostage with your cheap pity and our so-called past.” She paused, her face softening into a look of condescending pity. “Rex’s father has promised to invest thirty million dollars into my new law firm if I make this go away. Do you know what that means? It means I’ll be instantly catapulted to the top of my field.” I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice. “So, your idea of success is being his dog?” SLAP! The sound cracked through the quiet room. A fiery sting spread across my cheek. Amber’s hand was shaking, her chest heaving. My words had clearly struck a nerve. “What do you know?” she hissed. “This is a shortcut! A shortcut you, who will spend your entire life crawling in the dirt, could never understand!” She pulled a black credit card from her Hermès bag and threw it on the table. “There’s half a million dollars on this. Consider it repayment for the last five years. As of today, we’re even.” Half a million. She was buying my five years of devotion, of sacrifice, of love, for half a million dollars. I looked at the cold, plastic card and started to laugh. I laughed until tears pricked my eyes. I picked up the card between two fingers. As Amber watched, stunned, I snapped it in two. The pieces clattered onto the floor, a perfect metaphor for my shattered heart. I stood up, my voice low and steady. “Amber. We’re not even. You are in my debt. And I will make you pay it back. With interest.” Just then, the officer returned. “We’ve accepted your report,” he said. “As for the counter-accusation of slander against you, there’s currently insufficient evidence. You’re free to go. We’ll be in touch.” I pushed my chair back and walked out of the station without looking back. The moment I was outside, I deleted every trace of her from my phone. In my world, there was no more Amber Lin. There was only a debt, written in blood. 3 I went back to our “home”—the apartment I had renovated with my own blood and sweat, the place I thought would be our marital home. All of Amber’s things were gone. All that remained was the mess she’d left behind and the echoing emptiness of the rooms, mocking me. On the wall, our favorite photo was still hanging. In it, she was smiling, nestled in my arms, looking like she had the whole world. I took it down and threw it, along with every other memory of her, into the dumpster outside. My father was a respected judge, a man of unwavering integrity who had worked himself into an early grave. I had planned to visit his grave today, to show him our marriage certificate. I bought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and went to the cemetery. From a distance, I saw a group of people clustered around my father’s headstone. As I got closer, my feet froze. It was Rex and Amber. Rex was slowly pouring a bottle of expensive red wine over my father’s tombstone. The dark liquid snaked down the cold stone, staining it. “You old bastard,” he sneered. “You just had to go after my dad for that little issue, didn’t you? Cost our family a fortune. And look what happened. The star student you were so proud of ended up in my bed anyway.” He continued his vile tirade, and Amber… Amber just stood there. She held a file in her hands, her expression blank, her eyes empty, completely unmoved as my father’s final resting place was desecrated. Rage, pure and white-hot, flooded my senses. “Rex! I’ll kill you!” I shoved past his bodyguards and slammed my fist into his face. He staggered back, spitting blood. I lunged at him again, but his two massive bodyguards grabbed me, pinning me to the ground. The taste of dirt and grass filled my mouth. I struggled, my eyes locked on Amber. “Amber! Look at him! He’s insulting my father! The man who helped you! He’s insulting everything you once believed in! You said you wanted to be like him!” Amber finally moved. She walked over and crouched down in front of me, showing me the file in her hands. It was a collection of withdrawal applications. A list of names, all victims in the same case—a business fraud case against Rex’s father from years ago. My father had been the presiding judge, the one who had pushed for a full investigation against immense pressure. Now, Amber had used her legal prowess to intimidate or bribe every single victim into dropping their claims. It meant the case my father had died fighting for would be buried forever. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. Her voice was a whisper. “You have to look forward, Leo. Reopening old wounds doesn’t help anyone.” Rex wiped the blood from his lip and swaggered over. “Hahaha!” He wrapped an arm around Amber’s waist, his eyes glinting with triumph. “You hear that? Your old man was a stubborn fool. And now, your girlfriend has used everything he taught her to plug every legal hole for my family.” He leaned down, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper only I could hear. “You know, last night, she used that same clever mouth to please me. I wonder what your dad would think if he knew. Would he crawl out of his grave?” “I’ll kill you!” I lost control, lunging again. My fist never connected. His bodyguards slammed me back onto the ground. Rex placed his foot on my right hand and slowly, deliberately, began to grind his heel into it. “Aaargh!” The sound of my own bones cracking echoed through the cemetery, followed by my agonized scream. Pain exploded through my hand, radiating up my arm. My body convulsed, a cold sweat drenching my shirt. Just before I blacked out, I forced my head up to look at Amber. She just stood there, watching, a cold, indifferent spectator. The last thing I heard before the world went dark was her voice, speaking to Rex. “Don’t kill him. Keep him alive. He’s still useful.”

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1 A morning call from The Sterling Grand shattered my peace. A manager informed me an intimacy kit from my suite last night had been charged to my account. I froze mid-sip. I’d been working all night at the lab—nowhere near a hotel. I turned to my husband Ethan, the only other person with my account details. “Explain this.” He looked up from his phone, feigning innocence. “Why would I pay for that hotel? It must be a glitch.” He scoffed. “I’ll complain tomorrow.” I didn’t bother arguing. My best friend Vivian owned the hotel chain. I called her directly. “Find out who Ethan checked in with. I’m exposing a cheater.” His excuse was absurd. Vivian had given me a lifetime Founder’s Card—untraceable and exclusive to me. Yet the hotel claimed I’d stayed in the Presidential Suite and used minibar condoms. They confirmed three times: the guest was registered under my name, Chloe Sutton. Rage surged through me. I remembered Ethan mocking me when I first wanted to use the suite. “Isn’t our house enough? Always wasting money.” But it was my gift—why shouldn’t I use it? Furious, I drove straight to the hotel. With the holidays approaching, the lobby was a chaotic sea of tourists checking in. I waited nearly half an hour for the crowd at the front desk to thin. “Hi, I’m Chloe Sutton. You called me this morning,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. The receptionist glanced up, her expression shifting to one of confusion. “Ms. Sutton? But… you’re already back in your room, aren’t you? You specifically requested no housekeeping services.” My face hardened. She continued, oblivious. “Just ten minutes ago, a ‘Ms. Sutton’ called down to activate the ‘Do Not Disturb’ service for the suite.” I was trembling with fury. That little tramp had the audacity to use my name. “I am the real Chloe Sutton,” I said through gritted teeth. The receptionist gave me a condescending once-over. “Ma’am, if you don’t have a reservation, I’ll have to ask you to leave. We’re very busy today. Please don’t make a scene.” Her voice dripped with disdain. “The real Ms. Sutton checked in with her husband using a Founder’s Card. I may not have seen her, but Mr. Vance is a regular guest of ours. There’s no mistake.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. My husband. Someone else’s husband. The irony was suffocating. Just then, the elevator chimed open. A young woman walked out, draped in a new-season Chanel suit. Around her neck was the Cartier diamond necklace I’d won at a charity gala auction for over a quarter of a million dollars. I recognized her instantly. Mia Foster, a fresh-faced intern from Ethan’s office. The receptionist looked at her like a savior. “See? This is Ms. Sutton,” she said, gesturing toward Mia. “The lady of the suite is right here. I suggest you leave before you cause any more trouble.” Mia’s face paled when she saw me, but she quickly plastered on a fake smile. “Chloe! What a coincidence! Are you staying here, too?” I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me, Mia. I think you owe me an explanation. Why are you checked in under my name? Why am I being charged for your condoms?” My voice rose with every question. “And while we’re at it, why are you wearing my shoes? And since when is my husband your husband?” My voice echoed across the grand lobby. The bustling crowd fell silent, and every eye turned to Mia. She glanced around, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “Chloe, what are you talking about? My husband got me this hotel card because he felt bad I was working so hard. He bought me these shoes, too.” She lowered her head, feigning a blush. “And as for the… condoms… is there a problem with me using them with my own husband?” Suddenly, she looked at me with pity. “Chloe… has Ethan been treating you badly? Are you under a lot of stress? I can help you find a good therapist if you need one.” Her performance sparked whispers in the crowd. “Look at her, she looks so worn out. I bet her husband doesn’t touch her.” “That Founder’s Card costs at least fifty grand just to open. She doesn’t look like she could afford that.” “They really let anyone into these high-end places now, don’t they?” I was just in a simple blouse and jeans, hardly the mess they were describing. I ignored them, a cold smile touching my lips as I looked at Mia. “I never realized you were such a talented actress.” I turned back to the receptionist. “When this ‘Ms. Sutton’ checked in, did you verify her identification?” The woman stammered, “Well, she said she didn’t have her ID, but Mr. Vance is a regular, so…” “So you decided to violate hotel policy?” I cut her off, my voice sharp as glass. “Your security protocols are a joke.” The receptionist fell silent. Mia jumped in, playing the peacemaker. “Chloe, she’s just doing her job, why are you making things difficult for her? You know what they say, people stay where they belong. Stop making a scene.” The insinuation was clear: I didn’t belong here. Just then, her phone rang. The screen lit up with the caller ID: My Husband. “Answer it,” I sneered. “Put it on speaker. I want to hear what new lies Ethan has cooked up.” Mia, looking smug, answered the call and immediately switched to a tearful, panicked voice. “Honey, you have to get to the hotel! There’s a crazy woman here claiming I’m not your wife! She’s trying to get me thrown out…” She sobbed theatrically. On the other end, Ethan’s voice exploded with rage. “What crazy woman dares to mess with you? Don’t worry, baby, I’m on my way!” Crazy woman. So that’s what I was to him now. The onlookers stared at me with open disgust. Someone even stepped forward to comfort Mia. “Don’t mind her, dear. You can’t reason with crazy.” Mia offered a soft ‘thank you’ before turning back to me with a look of feigned concern. “My husband’s on his way. He has a bit of a temper. You should probably go.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He gave me this fifty-thousand-dollar card without a second thought. That’s how much he adores me. I can’t imagine what he’ll do to you when he gets here.” It was a threat disguised as advice. I was shaking, clenching my fists to stop myself from tearing that smug, deceitful mask off her face. Ethan arrived faster than I expected. He stormed into the lobby, and the moment his eyes landed on me, they turned venomous. He shoved me aside, a brutal, unexpected force, and pulled Mia into a protective embrace. “It’s okay, I’m here now,” he murmured, stroking her hair with a tenderness that made my stomach churn. The polished marble floor offered no friction. I stumbled backward, my hip slamming hard into the arm of a velvet sofa. If it hadn’t been there, I would have collapsed. Mia, meanwhile, stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around Ethan’s neck, and pulled him into a wet, sloppy, performative kiss right in the middle of the lobby. “Oh, baby, you’re the best,” she said, breathless and cloying. “You have to set this woman straight. She doesn’t believe a word I say!” Only then did Ethan look at me. There was no guilt in his eyes, only pure, unadulterated loathing. He released Mia and strode toward me. Without warning, he raised his hand, and the crack of his palm against my cheek echoed in the suddenly silent lobby. “Mia Foster! Have you no shame?” he roared, his voice filled with righteous fury. “Just because I turned you down for that promotion, just because I refused to sleep with you, you’ve held a grudge all this time?” He gestured wildly between us. “And now you have the nerve to show up here and harass my wife!” I cradled my stinging, swollen cheek, staring at him in disbelief. This man was a stranger. Before I’d left the house, he’d played the part of the concerned husband on the phone, patiently telling me not to overthink things. Now, he was standing here, spinning a web of lies without a flicker of remorse, even hitting me. He had always been two-faced. The memories clicked into place. The way his eyes would light up when I bought him the latest gaming console, but glaze over with contempt when I talked about my research breakthroughs, which he called “a pile of useless scrap metal.” His concern was never for me, only for my bank account. Maybe he never loved me. Maybe he never even tried to know me. A chilling calm settled over my rage. I lowered my hand and met his gaze, my voice so steady it surprised even me. “Ethan. Say that again.” “Tell me,” I continued, “who am I? And who is she?” A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but it was quickly buried under a new layer of aggressive bluster. “Are you deaf or just crazy? I said it loud and clear! She,” he said, pointing a dramatic finger at Mia, “is my wife, Chloe Sutton! And you,” he spat, “are Mia Foster, a bitter intern who couldn’t take no for an answer!” He raked his eyes over me, his tone dripping with scorn. “Take a look at yourself, lady. You’ve got to be, what, pushing forty? Do you really think I’d marry someone like you? Get a grip.” The crowd erupted in a fresh wave of murmurs. “Tsk, can’t find a husband so she tries to ruin someone else’s happiness.” “I told you she was nuts. Delusional, too. Scary.” “That poor couple, having to deal with this psycho.” I stood in silence, watching their pathetic drama unfold. He was going to protect Mia at all costs, even if it meant burying me in filth. But did he really think he could rewrite reality with just his words? Slowly, I reached into my purse and pulled out my passport and our marriage certificate. “I believe these will clarify who I am.” Ethan and Mia’s faces froze. Mia’s eyes went wide, and she tugged frantically at Ethan’s sleeve. He lunged forward, snatched the documents from my hand, and without a glance, flung them out through the revolving doors. “Are you ever going to give up?!” he bellowed, a vein throbbing in his temple, his performance reaching a fever pitch. “Last time it was a fake ID, and now this? Forged passports and marriage certificates? Have you no shame, Mia? I swear to God, I’ll call the cops right now and have you arrested for harassment and forgery of federal documents!” The crowd’s looks of scorn had morphed into genuine anger. “Call the cops!” someone shouted. “Get her out of here!” I had to admire his quick thinking. The second I presented evidence, he branded it a forgery. At that moment, I almost wished it was. Mia, visibly relieved, snuggled back into Ethan’s arms. She looked at me, her voice dripping with venomous pity. “You know, Chloe—I mean, Mia—that abusive husband of yours has clearly given you some serious issues. I can recommend a great psychiatrist. And a top-notch divorce lawyer.” She enunciated the word “divorce” with relish. Once I was out of the picture, she could finally be the real Mrs. Vance. Ethan sealed her performance with a kiss on her forehead. His gaze, when it returned to me, was glacial. “Get out. Now. Or I’m calling the police.” He then barked at the receptionist. “Get security down here and remove this lunatic! Who knows what she’ll do next? What if she hurts one of the other guests?” The crowd, now a mob, chimed in. “Get her out of here, or we’ll all file complaints against the hotel!” The receptionist scrambled to call security on her walkie-talkie. Two large guards appeared and grabbed my arms, dragging me toward the exit. I struggled, my elbow scraping painfully against a pillar in the scuffle. In the chaos, Mia drifted closer, unnoticed. Then, just as I was off-balance, she expertly stuck out her foot. I went down hard. “Oh my god!” Mia shrieked, feigning shock. “Are you trying to scam us now? I was just trying to help you, and you threw yourself on the floor to blame me!” A golf-ball-sized lump immediately formed on my ankle. My knee was a mess of raw, scraped skin, blood already seeping through my jeans. The pain was blinding. I tried to stand, but my leg wouldn’t hold my weight. Ethan just watched, his expression cold and detached, as if I were a complete stranger. My heart, in that moment, turned to ice. There was nothing left to hope for from him. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for my phone to call 911. But as soon as the screen unlocked, Ethan lunged, snatching it from my grasp. “What do you think you’re doing? Calling the cops?” he sneered, twisting the narrative. “Everyone here saw you fall on purpose. You’re not pinning this on my wife or this hotel.” “I have a bleeding disorder,” I gasped through the pain. “Call an ambulance.” He didn’t move. Instead, he hurled my phone across the lobby, where it skittered under a concierge desk. The receptionist, terrified of getting involved, just stood there, wringing her hands. I was utterly alone. Gritting my teeth against the waves of agony, I started to drag myself across the floor, using my good leg to push. Suddenly, a sharp stiletto heel ground into the back of my hand. Mia loomed over me. “Sign a statement,” she whispered, “admitting this was all your fault, and I’ll call an ambulance for you. Otherwise…” She pressed down harder. An excruciating pain shot up my arm, mixing with the throbbing in my knee and ankle. It was so intense I nearly passed out. I couldn’t speak, could only tremble from the pain and rage, my vision starting to blur at the edges. Just as I felt myself slipping into darkness, the sharp, rapid click-clack of high heels echoed from the entrance. My best friend, Vivian Sterling, was striding into the lobby like a storm. “Chloe, I checked the records! That bastard Ethan really is cheating! He’s used this hotel more in the past year than you have in your entire life!” Her voice was a thunderclap. “And he dared to give my Founder’s Card to his little tramp? I’m going to skin him alive today!” Vivian, flanked by several senior hotel executives and a new security team, marched toward the scene. Her furious tirade came to an abrupt halt when she saw me, crumpled and bleeding on the floor. The arrogant receptionist, who had been sneering moments before, turned white as a sheet. “Ms… Ms. Sterling…” she stammered.

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The year I turned twenty-eight, Sienna became the uncrowned queen of Port City. She had eliminated the last of the men who’d ever laid a hand on me. She commanded thirty-seven of the city’s docks and eighteen satellite casinos. Millions flowed into her coffers every day. She held the city in the palm of her hand. It was also the year I found our son, Leo, who had been missing for a decade. Our family, our empire—it was all finally coming together. But just as I was about to share the good news with Sienna, I got a call from the flagship casino in the middle of the night. “Nate,” her manager’s voice was strained. “Can you come down here?” “There’s… someone making a scene. He’s telling everyone the boss… that she forced herself on him.” I assumed it was a rival trying to stir up trouble and rushed over. But when I arrived, the only person I saw was a beautiful young man. He wore a wedding band on his finger—the exact same design as mine. But his face held an arrogance I’d never possessed. When he saw me, he shot me a defiant look and then deliberately ground the memorial photo of my daughter, Lily, under his heel. “Sienna was supposed to be here at midnight for my birthday,” he pouted. “If she’s not, then I’m going to make a scene. I’ll make a huge scene!” 1. The memorial table was a disaster. Lily’s photo was covered in shoe prints, and the offerings were scattered across the floor. The once-deafening roar of the casino floor had fallen silent. Even Sienna’s most seasoned capos didn’t dare breathe too loudly. They were all bowing and scraping, trying to placate this petulant boy. “Who is he?” I asked. The manager hesitated, stammering for a moment before he finally managed to get the words out. The young man’s name was Julian. He was a college student, not even twenty, and Sienna was… very fond of him. I was about to ask what “fond of him” meant when a shoulder slammed into mine, shoving me aside. When I looked up, Sienna was already showing me the answer. She draped her own coat over Julian’s shoulders, her face melting into a fond, indulgent smile. “My little trouble, what are you doing out here in the cold?” she murmured. “I wanted to be with you, but today is the anniversary of Lily’s death…” She sighed, stroking his hair. “Okay, okay, it’s all my fault. You can hit me, you can scream at me, just don’t catch a cold.” When they called, I’d been terrified something had happened to Sienna. I’d run out of the house in just a thin shirt. Now, the night wind cut through the fabric, a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. I hesitated, then finally called her name. “Sienna.” She flinched, only then realizing it was me she had shoved. But the flicker of recognition lasted only a second before it was replaced by a careless smile. “Nathan? What are you doing here?” she asked. “Did our little troublemaker call you? Don’t mind him. He’s young, just loves to cause drama.” She gave Julian a playful pat on the backside. “Go back to the room and wait for me,” she whispered, then turned back to me. “You go home, too. I’ll be back in the morning.” She said it so casually, as if betrayal was the most natural thing in the world. When I didn’t move, Sienna stepped forward and brushed a few snowflakes from my shoulder. “Be good, Nate. Don’t stoop to his level.” The light overhead flickered, and for a moment, I was thrown back in time. To the year we were most in love, when Sienna had grabbed my hand under these same city lights and sworn an oath. Till death do us part. I will never betray you. If I do, may I die a dog’s death. My lips tightened. I snatched a heavy crystal vase from a nearby table and smashed it over her head. A collective gasp filled the room, punctuated by Julian’s shrill scream. He scrambled into Sienna’s arms like a startled fawn, whimpering that he was scared. Blood was trickling down Sienna’s temple, but her first instinct was to shield Julian’s face, to protect him from the sight of her own weakness. Her voice, when she spoke to me, was sharp with annoyance. “Julian is sensitive. He can’t handle things like this,” she said. “Go home, Nathan. Don’t make this any uglier than it has to be.” I looked at the blood-stained shard of glass in my hand and laughed, a cold, empty sound. Then I hurled it at her again. “You think this is ugly?” I snarled. “Remember the time I took eighteen stab wounds for you? My intestines were spilling out. You held them in with one hand and carried me on your back for miles, leaving a trail of blood the whole way. That was ugly.” At the mention of our bloody past, the boy in her arms trembled. Sienna immediately covered his ears, her brow furrowed. “That’s enough! Don’t talk about that in front of him,” she snapped. “He’s not like you. If he gets scared, he won’t be able to sleep.” Of course, he wasn’t like me. At his age, if I had seen someone lay a hand on Sienna, I would have grabbed the nearest blade and fought to the death. Perhaps worried about what other secrets I might reveal, Sienna sighed and waved her men over to escort Julian away. The boy was clingy, clutching her jacket, refusing to let go until Sienna cooed and promised him the world. Only when we were completely alone did she finally sit down across from me. She lit a cigarette, the smoke veiling her face. All I could hear was her voice, steady and devoid of any emotion. 2. “You’re a grown man, Nathan. Why are you picking a fight with a kid?” “I’ve told you, you’re the only one I love. But I’m still human. I have needs.” Sienna casually tapped the ash from her cigarette. Her gaze lingered for a second on the raw, red skin of my chest, chapped from the cold, before quickly looking away. “Look at those scars on your body. They’re terrifying,” she said. “Every time you take your clothes off, I see them… all of them… and I just feel… so…” She paused, then delivered the final blow with chilling precision. “Disgusted.” With that, she stood up. She took the signet ring from her finger—the one she’d killed for, the symbol of her power—and pressed it into my hand. “But don’t worry,” she said, her voice softening into a hollow imitation of comfort. “No matter what, I’ll always love you. No matter who I’m with, no one will ever take your place.” “It’s just… I’ve fought and bled my whole life to get here. Now that things are finally stable, I just want to enjoy myself.” For years, that’s what she’d always told me. Just wait, Nate. Wait until I control all the docks. Wait until I’m at the very top. Then I’ll go straight, and we can finally have a real life. For that promise, I had been beaten, cursed, and stabbed until my body was a roadmap of scars. I never thought of letting go. But my idea of a “real life” was a quiet home with our two children. Hers, apparently, was keeping a pretty young boy on the side. I took a deep breath, looking at the woman before me. She was so familiar, yet a complete stranger. The Sienna who swore she’d paint the city red for me was gone. The Sienna who found me in an alley, a street kid digging through trash, and promised me a home… she was a ghost. My thumb traced the cool steel of the gun tucked in my waistband. I took one last look at her and said, “Let’s get a divorce.” If I were nineteen again, I would have burned this place to the ground. I would have carved up this cheating pair and thrown them into the harbor for the sharks. But now… I touched the locket I wore, a picture of my children inside. A bitter wave of grief washed over me. It was in this very casino, a decade ago, that Sienna and I were hiding from our enemies with our children. Our son, Leo, was lost in the chaos. And our daughter, Lily… I smothered her with my own hands. We were crammed into a shipping crate, trying to escape. To stop her cries from giving us away, I held my hand over her mouth. I held it there until she stopped breathing. The sound of Sienna’s screams that day could be heard across the entire city. She cut off her own pinky finger, swearing an oath on Lily’s body that she would avenge our child. And I prayed. I swore that if Lily could ever forgive me, if Leo ever came back to me, I would dedicate my life to peace. I would never kill again. Now, Sienna was the queen of Port City, the master of this casino. She could reattach her finger and forget her vows. She could let her lover desecrate our daughter’s memory. But I couldn’t. I had to live for my children now. I had to leave this life of blood and betrayal behind. And take my son somewhere safe, somewhere we could finally live in peace. 3. Sienna didn’t agree to the divorce. Not because she couldn’t bear to let me go. It was because her new boy toy called, whimpering that he was afraid of the dark. She rushed out so quickly she didn’t even hear what I’d said. That impatient little brat couldn’t wait to rub it in my face. A video message popped up on my phone. In a penthouse apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows, Sienna was kneeling on the floor, washing his feet. I knew that building. When we first came to Port City, broke and dreaming, we used to stand on the street below and stare up at it. We promised each other that one day, we’d stand together in one of those windows, looking out at the city we’d conquered. A life with my love, sharing that view… it was all I ever wanted. Now, Sienna could afford to buy the entire building. But the person living there with her wasn’t me. Decades of shared blood and battle couldn’t compete with a pretty face and a gentle touch. I tried to let it go. I really tried. But I couldn’t. I carefully cleaned Lily’s photograph, lit a stick of incense, and made a phone call. The next morning, a gift box was delivered to Sienna’s desk. Inside, resting on a bed of silk, was Julian’s severed finger. The blood was still wet, a shocking crimson against the sparkle of his wedding band. Sienna was livid. She had the man who did the job dragged before me, his face a bloody pulp. “Nathan, you’ve gone too far,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “Julian is just a kid.” A kid? The word was a dagger in my heart. I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. Our Lily was buried in the cold earth. Our Leo was still lost somewhere in this cruel world. Every night I spent missing them, every night Sienna was gone, I was sick with worry. Worried our enemies would find me. Worried Sienna was in danger. Worried I would lose her the same way I lost my children. And where was she? In Julian’s arms, probably laughing at the pathetic fool who loved her so much it made him weak. I clenched my fists. “Sign the divorce papers,” I said, my voice hoarse. “And I’ll leave your little lover alone. Otherwise, I don’t care where you hide him. I will find him.” “I’ll cut off his fingers, his ears, his nose. One by one,” I promised. “Let’s see what you run out of first: his body parts, or your time.” Sienna just smiled, radiating absolute confidence. “You won’t,” she said. “I know you, Nathan. You love me too much. You’d never tear us apart over some outsider.” Before she could finish, a soft moan came from the phone she was holding. Her face softened, her thoughts already with Julian. With a swift, clean motion, she slit the throat of the man kneeling on the floor. Then she left, hurrying back to her lover. After that, Sienna kept Julian under even tighter guard. So I went after her empire instead. In seven days, I hit all thirty-seven docks and eighteen satellite casinos. Every single place Julian had ever set foot in, I tore it apart. One afternoon, as I was personally wrecking the main casino floor, one of my men called. “Nate, it’s bad! Someone’s at the cemetery! They’re trying to dig up Lily’s grave!” “What?” My blood ran cold. I floored it, racing towards the cemetery. As I neared the entrance, a car, driving recklessly on the wrong side of the road, slammed directly into me. 4. In the split second before the pain hit, I saw the license plate. A-927. The date Lily died. There was only one person in Port City who would dare use that plate. Sienna. Sure enough, I heard Julian’s cloying voice drift from the other car. “Oh no, Sienna! I hit someone! Are they going to arrest me? I’m so scared! I don’t want to leave you!” Sienna kissed his cheek, her voice a soothing murmur. She didn’t even glance in my direction. She just had one of her men toss a stack of cash onto my crumpled car. Using the power I helped her build to trample on my dignity. A white-hot pain tore through my abdomen, spreading like fire. I clutched my stomach, gritting my teeth as I looked up. Through the shattered windshield, I could see them. Sienna’s men were digging up Lily’s grave. Julian snuggled against Sienna, looking up with wide, innocent eyes. “Sienna, do you think Nathan will be mad about this? What if he comes after me again? He’s so scary…” Sienna stroked his hair, unconcerned. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’m here to protect you. I own this city now.” Julian, emboldened by her devotion, pouted. “Really? Then after all I’ve been through for you, just giving me that theme park isn’t enough. I want you to get on all fours and let me ride you like a horse!” Sienna just smiled and nodded. He pressed his advantage. “And I want you to bake me a birthday cake. And watch the stars with me. And set off fireworks.” “And, and! I want us to have lots and lots of babies together!” Sienna’s smile grew wider. This woman, who had clawed her way to the top through a sea of blood, was now simpering like a lovesick girl. She pulled Julian into a tight hug, nodding again and again. “Yes, yes, of course. Anything you want, my love. Anything!” No matter how outrageous his demands, she agreed without hesitation, that doting smile never leaving her face. The roar of the excavator was the symphony to their love story. And the small body buried in the ground was just a prop. The prayer beads on my wrist were stained with my own blood. The last shred of mercy in my heart burned away, leaving only a pure, cold need for vengeance. I pulled out my gun and, without a second’s hesitation, fired. The moment the shot rang out, Sienna instinctively threw her body over Julian, shielding him. In the next instant, dozens of guns were pointed at me. The pain in my gut intensified. It was as if Lily herself was crying out from her disturbed grave. I stared at Sienna, my voice a venomous hiss. “You’d disturb our daughter’s eternal rest for this… this piece of trash? Sienna, you are no mother.” Sienna frowned. “Calm down, Nathan. Our child is dead. The living are more important.” The living are more important? No. The new toy is more important than the old love. I fought through the waves of pain and raised my gun again. But before I could pull the trigger, Julian stepped out from behind Sienna. He was holding Lily’s urn. With a smirk, he hurled it to the ground. The container shattered. The ashes, everything that was left of my daughter, scattered in the wind. Lily was gone. Again. “LILY!” I lunged forward, a raw, animalistic scream tearing from my throat. The rage was so immense it completely eclipsed the pain. Only after I had desperately scooped what little I could of the ashes into my arms did I realize. My old wounds had torn open. My pants were soaked through with fresh blood. The world tilted, and I fell. I woke up in a hospital. One of my men was pacing by the bed, looking at me with an expression of pure agony. He opened his mouth to speak several times, but couldn’t. Finally, Dr. Evans came in and told me. “Nathan… your son, Leo… he’s gone.” “Someone leaked his location. By the time your men got there, our rivals had already… they’d already taken him apart.” I closed my eyes, a profound, soul-crushing despair washing over me. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. My daughter, her ashes scattered to the winds. My son, dismembered by my enemies. Ten years ago, I was too late. Ten years later, I was still too late. Seeing the utter devastation on my face, the doctor sighed. “Sienna… she thought you were faking it. She refused to leave Julian’s side to come here. She still doesn’t know about Leo.” I said nothing. My grief was hardening into a cold, unbreakable resolve. There was no point in sorrow. Every single person who had a hand in my children’s deaths would pay. In blood. When I returned to the villa, it was in chaos. Julian was directing the staff to throw all of my belongings into the street. He smirked when he saw me. “Thanks for that bullet, Nathan. Sienna said I was so traumatized that I needed to move in here to recover.” Sienna shook her head and called him a little devil, but there was no anger in her voice. She just waved a dismissive hand. “Julian didn’t mean to break the urn. I’ve already hired a master to find a new, better burial plot. Let him stay here for a while. He’ll be good, he won’t get in your way. And he’ll never take your place.” No one in Port City could take my place. Not even Sienna. I ignored them both. I took the ashes of my children and went straight to the airport. As the plane climbed high above Port City, the timers on the bombs in the villa reached zero. I looked down at the glittering, familiar landscape below and whispered, “You once made a vow, Sienna.” “If you ever betrayed me, you would die a dog’s death.” You couldn’t keep your promise. So I’m keeping it for you. … In the villa, just as Sienna was about to tumble into bed with Julian, she got a call from Dr. Evans. The doctor’s voice was sharp with blame. “Sienna, Nathan has suffered so much for you over the years. I can understand you not showing up when he was in the hospital. But Leo… how could you not even ask about Leo? He was your son, too!” “Lily is gone. And now Leo is dead.” “If Nathan ever finds out the truth about what happened back then… he will never, ever forgive you.” Leo is dead? When? A shiver went down Sienna’s spine. Nathan’s pale, bloodless face flashed in her mind. A deep unease settled in her gut. She glanced in the direction he had gone. Before she could ask another question, the world exploded.

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