To marry Nolan Vance, Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor, I reinvented myself—from a gambler’s daughter to an Oxford-educated heiress. I worked tirelessly to become his equal, and succeeded. We built a life of immense power and privilege. But that illusion shattered when Nolan sabotaged a $100 million deal over a cocktail waitress. As I scrambled to clean up his mess, I overheard his friends in the next room. “Does your perfect wife really think a couture dress can hide where she came from?” one mocked. Then I heard Nolan’s laugh—cold and knowing. He had always known I was a fraud. And so, it turned out, was he. 1 Standing outside that door, a gaping hole tore open in my chest. “I heard her deadbeat dad just got out of prison,” someone mused. “Let’s make a bet. I say three months, tops, before he shows up begging for money. That’s when Mrs. Vance’s carefully crafted high-society image is going to come crashing down.” “I’ll bet one month!” Leo declared. “That whole Oxford story was a nice touch, I’ll give her that. But you can’t hide the poverty in your bones. Have you seen the way she cuts a steak? Like she’s murdering an enemy, terrified of using the wrong form. It’s hysterical.” Nolan’s voice, calm and detached, cut through their laughter. “I’ll bet… a year. She has too much pride. She’ll do anything to keep the lie going, probably try to ship her father back to whatever hellhole he came from. He won’t be a problem in the short term.” He sighed, a sound of weary calculation. “My mother was trying to force me to marry that pig-headed idiot from the Harrison Group. Obviously, I refused. Stella was a convenient alternative. She’s poor, yes, but she’s smart. I needed someone smart to run interference with my parents. While they were busy dealing with her, they’d leave me alone.” He paused. “And watching her try so hard to be elegant every day… it has its own brand of amusement.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. He knew. Nolan knew everything. My relentless effort, the life I had painstakingly built—it was all just a joke to him. A private, pathetic circus act. The room erupted in another round of laughter. Suddenly, Nolan shushed them. Through the crack in the door, I saw a girl. She was curled up on the leather sofa behind him, fast asleep, cocooned in his custom-tailored jacket. She stirred, and Nolan immediately silenced the room. “Keep it down. Don’t wake her. She was working all night. She’s exhausted.” Leo clicked his tongue. “Honestly, Nolan. She’s a nobody from the middle of nowhere. What do you even see in her?” Nolan propped his chin on his hand, his gaze softening as he watched the girl sleep. “Compared to Stella’s fake elegance, I prefer something real. A thirty-dollar t-shirt looks beautiful on her. And the way she carries herself, without a trace of insecurity or apology… that’s what I find captivating.” Just then, the girl rolled over and woke up. She sat up, dazed and disoriented. “How did I fall asleep…?” She carefully folded the jacket and handed it back to Nolan. “Mr. Vance, thank you again for paying for my brother’s surgery. I swear, I’ll pay you back every penny…” “You don’t have to.” “No, I insist.” She bit her lip, her expression full of stubborn pride. “I don’t want to owe anyone anything.” A slow smile spread across Nolan’s face. He reached out and gently tapped the tip of her nose, his touch impossibly tender. “Alright, alright, you win. In that case, how about you come work for me? Be my assistant. I’ll pay you fifty thousand a month.” Her eyes lit up. “But… I never even finished high school. I don’t know anything…” “Don’t worry about that. You’re smart. You’ll be great.” After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. A sharp pain, like a needle, pierced my heart. Nolan Vance’s executive assistant. That position used to be mine. The job posting had explicitly stated the minimum requirement was an Ivy League degree. My background was a lie, but my education was real. I had spent months preparing for that interview. I knew Nolan had a branch in Paris and traveled there often. Terrified he’d find me lacking, I’d thrown myself into French lessons and etiquette classes, running from one tutor to the next. And all of it, in his eyes, meant nothing. For the first time, I understood. You didn’t have to be brilliant to stand beside him. You just had to be… her. Nolan gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “For my assistant,” he said softly, “a high school education is more than enough.” A shy smile bloomed on Tress’s face. Outside the door, my limbs went numb. I stumbled back to my own private room, my legs threatening to give out. The business partner, Mr. Peterson, was still there, determined to make me suffer. He poured a glass, a toxic mix of whiskey and something clear that burned the air. “Mrs. Vance, you drink this, and the issue between me and your husband is forgotten.” He gave me a lewd, knowing smile. I remembered the last time I’d done this for Nolan. I’d drunk so much I ended up in the emergency room with a bleeding stomach, nearly dying on the operating table. I wasn’t going to be that stupid again. I took the glass, and in one smooth motion, poured its contents onto the expensive carpet. “Mr. Peterson,” I said, my voice steady. “Your business with my husband is your own. I have other matters to attend to.” I walked out of the restaurant like a zombie and went back to the Vance mansion. Nolan’s mother was seated before a small shrine in the sitting room, her eyes closed in meditation. She heard me enter but didn’t even bother to look up. “The luncheon with the foundation board is tomorrow. Have you finalized the seating chart?” she asked, her voice cold. “Also, the ancestral rites are next month. I had the butler email you the travel itineraries for your uncles. You are to personally arrange their transport. We brought you into this family to be our public face, Stella. These duties must be performed flawlessly. Otherwise, what’s the difference between marrying you and some illiterate trash from the slums?” Gutter trash. The words were a fresh stab to an open wound. I stood silently in the doorway, then turned and started up the stairs. “Stop! Are you deaf? Or have your manners completely deserted you?” I paused at the landing but didn’t turn back. “Find someone else,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m tired.” A torrent of venomous words followed me up the stairs, but I tuned them out. I slammed my bedroom door shut, the sound a final, satisfying crack that silenced the world. Memories flooded back. The first time I ever saw Nolan Vance. I was a college student, working as a waitress at a gala to pay my tuition. It was my first, terrifying glimpse into the world of the elite. I was so scared, so out of place. I accidentally spilled a glass of champagne on a guest. The woman exploded in fury. Her hand shot out, grabbing me by the throat and shoving me to the floor. She kicked me twice, hard, in the ribs. Pain shot through my body, leaving me trembling. “You little beggar!” she shrieked. “Do you have any idea what this gown is? It’s custom-made by an Italian designer! It costs seven figures—more money than your kind will ever see in a lifetime!” I knelt on the floor like a dog, my hands clasped, begging for forgiveness. She slapped me, and the sting of it mixed with my tears, blurring my vision into a smear of red. Then Nolan stepped in. “It’s just a dress,” he said, his voice light as air. “Is it really necessary to terrorize the girl?” The check he wrote was signed with a hand that was long, elegant, and impossibly beautiful. I can still see it. My heart hammered in my chest. For the first time, I felt the chasm of class that separated my world from his. I was a student at a prestigious university, but because of where I came from, I was nothing more than an ant to be crushed under their feet. But I didn’t want to be an ant. I wanted to be the master of my own life. I wanted that beautiful life, and I wanted the man standing before me. In that moment, a dangerous cocktail of ambition and desire gave birth to an audacious plan. I would fake a past. I would weave a web of lies. All I wanted was an admission ticket to their world. A chance to stand next to him. And in the end, I did it. Only to discover it was all just a game to him. He didn’t love the brilliant woman I had become. He was captivated by a cocktail waitress who never finished high school. All because she was real. What a fucking joke. I picked up my phone and called my lawyer. I told him to draft the divorce papers. It was time to end this. I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Nolan didn’t come home until after midnight. I could hear my mother-in-law’s muffled complaints from the living room before he came upstairs. He smelled faintly of citrus, the same scent that clung to the girl. “Mom said you were rude to her today,” he said, undoing his tie. “Go down and apologize later.” I didn’t move. He gently tapped my shoulder. “What’s wrong, honey? You seem upset.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. The same gentle touch, but now it felt like ice. “I’m fine,” I managed, struggling to keep my voice even. “Just not feeling well.” “By the way, how did things go with Peterson?” “Not well.” He paused. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We can afford to lose the deal. I don’t want you to be put in that position.” I almost laughed. I wanted to ask him who, exactly, he didn’t want to see get hurt. But the words died in my throat. “Okay,” I whispered. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next day at the office, the girl had already started. Her name was Tress. She was even prettier, more innocent-looking, than she had been in the private room. She was also completely incompetent. During the morning meeting, she couldn’t even figure out how to operate the slideshow. Her meeting notes were a chaotic mess. Nolan was notoriously strict with his employees, a ruthless perfectionist. But with Tress, he was endlessly patient. I held my tongue until the meeting was over. When I went to Nolan’s office to discuss a new project, Tress was there to serve tea. Her hand slipped, and a stream of scalding water splashed onto my wrist, instantly raising a cluster of blisters. The project files on the desk were soaked. I finally snapped. “What is wrong with you?” She slammed the teapot down, her face a mask of defiant stubbornness. “Aren’t you going to apologize?” I asked, my voice calm. My composure seemed to enrage her. “It was an accident! Why are you being so aggressive? You think you can bully me just because you have money?” Nolan watched her, a look of pure admiration in his eyes. This was the unapologetic defiance he found so captivating? Before I could say another word, he took my hand. “She’s young, Stella. No work experience. Let me apologize to you on her behalf, okay?” My heart stuttered. I pulled my hand away. The matter was dropped. After we finished discussing work, I was about to leave when Nolan cleared his throat. “I have a dinner meeting tonight. You should go home, don’t wait up for me.” I knew him too well. He always coughed twice before he lied. “Okay.” Back in my office, I found Tress’s social media profile through the HR database. As expected, around 8 p.m., she posted an update. A photo of her and Nolan. They were at a cheap, roadside diner, a table laden with spicy, messy food between them. And two plastic cups from a corner lemonade stand. This was a man who only drank single-origin Yemeni coffee. Now he was drinking four-dollar lemonade. I scrolled through her feed. Almost every post was about him. [My 20th birthday! Mr. Vance bought me my very first pair of high heels! (But I still like my sneakers better hehe)] [Took the big CEO to a hole-in-the-wall for the first time. He looked so serious eating, but he still peeled my crawfish for me!] The more I looked, the tighter the knot in my chest became. Just then, my phone buzzed. A text from an anonymous number. My heart seized. It was my father. The one I’d just heard was out of prison. [Stella. Help your dad out. You think you can just cut me off now that you’ve made it big?] [I’ll drag you back down into the mud with me!] [Don’t forget how you got into the Vance family. Give me five million, and I’ll keep your little secret.] I didn’t reply. My hand trembled as I deleted the message. I thought of the bet Nolan and his friends had made. The bet on how long it would take for my world to implode. My father was a ticking time bomb. Sooner or later, he would detonate. But I was done living in fear. This time, I would be the one to light the fuse. Nolan came home at dawn the next day, mumbling a lazy excuse about an all-night business meeting. But I’d already seen it on Tress’s feed. There was no meeting. He’d spent the night with her, driving out of the city to some remote hill to watch the stars, and then the sunrise. My mother-in-law’s sharp voice cut through the morning quiet. “The annual family banquet is approaching. Stella, it’s time for you to start the preparations.” It was the most important event of the year for the Vance clan, a gathering of every direct and extended relative. “When is it?” I asked, my voice hollow. “The twentieth.” My phone buzzed again. Another threat from my father. [You little bitch! If you don’t answer, I’m coming to your house!] I hesitated for only a second before typing a reply. [You want money? Come to the Vance estate on the twentieth of this month. I’ll be waiting.] The days crawled by. The closer it got to the twentieth, the more the world seemed to split in two. Tress’s social media was a daily diary of her fairytale romance. Nolan skipping work to visit her grandmother in the countryside. Nolan spending a weekend with her, dressed in a goofy mascot costume, handing out flyers on the street. The two of them squatting on a curb, sharing a three-dollar hot dog. Every photo was a poisoned needle, driving deeper into my heart. My father’s texts continued unabated, each one more vile than the last. He called me a whore, a toad trying to eat swan meat. He said I was born for the gutter and that’s where I would die. The locked doors in my mind burst open. Memories I had buried clawed their way out. Him, drunk and raging, beating me until I was covered in bruises. Forcing me to get on all fours and bark like a dog. Tying me up with a rope and hanging me from the rafters. My head felt like it was going to explode. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. I dug my nails into my palms until they bled, clenching my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would crack, just to stay sane. The twentieth was almost here. Money couldn’t save me. The beautiful, fragile dream couldn’t save me. If I was going to crawl out of this swamp for good, I had to do it myself. The day of the banquet arrived. Nolan’s car was waiting downstairs. When I pulled open the passenger door, I found Tress sitting there. “I’m just showing the kid what this world looks like,” Nolan explained casually. He then glanced at Tress. “You should sit in the back. The front seat is for my wife.” Tress bit her lip and tugged on his sleeve. “Mr. Vance, I get carsick… I’ll throw up if I sit in the back.” And just like that, he softened. “Stella, would you mind…?” Without a word, I opened the back door and got in. The ride to the old family estate was silent and suffocating. Tress looked exactly like I had on my first night in this world—timid, overwhelmed, and completely out of her depth. But she was luckier than I had been. Nolan hovered over her like a mother hen, protecting her. When one of his cousins tried to ask her for a drink, a single withering glare from Nolan sent him scurrying away. “Bro, you’re already married,” the cousin teased later. “You planning on making her wife number two?” Nolan shot him a dark look. “And what if I am?” he retorted, then immediately flicked his eyes toward me, checking my reaction. I didn’t care anymore. I just watched the antique clock on the wall, counting down the minutes. Finally, the butler hurried into the room, his face pale. He kept glancing nervously in my direction. “There’s… an uninvited guest at the gate,” he stammered. “He says he’s here to see… the young madam.” My voice was calm. “Let him in.” The man who entered was my father. His face was a roadmap of hard living, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He wore a tattered camouflage jacket and worn-out work boots, the soles peeling away from the leather. Nolan, having investigated my past, knew exactly who he was. “Get him out of here!” he snapped, signaling for security. “Don’t,” I said, stopping them. “…What are you doing?” Nolan’s voice was a low hiss. I looked him straight in the eye. “I brought him here today to tell you all the truth.” The color drained from his face. He tried to stop me, but it was too late. “My entire identity is a lie,” I announced to the silent, stunned room. “My parents are not university professors. I’m not an heiress. I’m the daughter of a gambler. I’ve never even been to Europe. It was all a lie to deceive you.” A wave of shocked murmurs swept through the crowd. My mother-in-law looked like she was having a stroke, her body trembling with rage. “Have you lost your mind?” she shrieked. “No, Mother. It’s all true. If you don’t believe me, ask your son. Nolan knows everything. He knew from the very beginning that I was a fake. He watched me play my part, pretending to be a socialite, clawing my way into your family.” I turned to Nolan, a smile twisting my lips. It felt more painful than crying. “I lied to you, and you lied to me. I suppose that makes us even, doesn’t it?” Before he could answer, my father spat on the floor. “Stella, are you fucking done yet? Save your drama for later and give me the money!” I turned to face him, my gaze locking onto his. “There is no money,” I said, each word a stone. “Not a single cent. Now that they know the truth, you have nothing left to threaten me with. I’m not afraid of you anymore. You come near me again, and I swear to God, we’ll both go down together.” I pulled out the knife I’d hidden in my purse and pointed it at him. The room exploded into chaos. For the first time in my life, I saw fear in my father’s eyes. He stammered a few curses but didn’t dare raise his voice. The butler and security guards swarmed in and dragged him out. Silence fell, thick and heavy, broken only by frantic whispers. “Everyone, be quiet,” Nolan commanded, his voice dark with fury. He rounded on me, his eyes like a predator’s. “Stella, you did this on purpose. What the hell do you want?” I toyed with the knife in my hand. The blade was sharp. It slipped, slicing a thin, deep line across my palm. Blood welled up, dark and red. “I used to dream of your world,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I was willing to lie and cheat just to taste it. But now that I have, all I feel is… empty. There’s no sense of belonging in a world where you don’t belong. And I’m tired. The magic is gone. I just want it to be over.” I looked him in the eye. “Let’s get a divorce, Nolan. I’m done being the cricket in your cage.” I pulled the diamond ring from my finger. It was slick with blood. I threw it onto the marble floor. It landed with a sharp, clean clatter. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped. “Divorce?” he hissed. “After all your lies, you think you can just walk away? You’ll get nothing. Not a penny. I suggest you think this through.” “I already have.” I took the signed divorce papers from my purse and held them out to him. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with rage. He snatched the papers and ripped them to shreds. “You’re not thinking clearly. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.” “I am perfectly calm. And I want a divorce.” I met his furious gaze, my own unwavering. “No matter what, Nolan. It’s over.”

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Three days into our cold war, I ordered a box of extra-thin condoms and had them shipped to my boyfriend’s apartment. Then, after getting dressed to the nines, I knocked on his door. “Liam,” I began, my voice sweet, “I think I might have a package here…” Before I could finish, a cold laugh echoed from above. “Is this really necessary, Ava? Weren’t you the one who slapped me and told me to get lost?” His long arm was braced against the doorframe, blocking my way. He then turned and yelled into the apartment, “Babe! There’s a hot girl trying to seduce me out here! You gotta come chase her off!” 1 I thought he was joking. I rolled my eyes. “So, what you’re saying is, three days into a fight, some random girl just magically appears in your bedroom? Dream on.” I slipped under his arm with ease and, out of habit, opened the shoe cabinet. When I saw the pair of cute, fluffy pink bunny slippers, a laugh escaped me. “Why’d you buy me these? You know I like green…” “Babe,” Liam’s voice, lazy and low, cut me off. I was about to answer him, wondering when he’d gotten so cheesy after a fight. But then I looked up. Standing in the middle of the living room was a girl in a slinky little slip dress. She blinked her big, innocent eyes at me. “Why… are you wearing my slippers?” I froze, my mind struggling to catch up. I could only watch as Liam, my usually aloof and detached boyfriend, shrugged helplessly before walking over and wrapping his arms around her. “She just showed up out of nowhere,” he said, his voice laced with a gentle apology for her. “If I’d known it was my ex, I wouldn’t have even opened the door.” He turned to me, his expression suddenly serious. “You need to explain yourself, Ava.” Before I could get a word out, he was striding toward me, his face a thundercloud. He glared down at the one slipper I’d already put on. “Could you have a little respect for boundaries?” he snapped, his voice sharp. “Who just puts on other people’s slippers?” I braced myself against the wall, my right foot half out of the slipper. I couldn’t even look at him. Humiliation and a raw, stinging sense of betrayal washed over me, and tears welled up, spilling down my cheeks before I could stop them. After a long, agonizing moment, Liam seemed to notice my distress. His posture softened, a reluctant compromise. “Forget it. Chloe’s a bit of a germaphobe. She won’t want them now that you’ve worn them.” He gestured dismissively. “You can have them.” I forced myself to pull it together, pasting on a brittle smile. “My package… I forgot to change the shipping address.” The girl, Chloe, finally seemed to snap out of her daze. She smiled, tapping her head in a cute, self-deprecating way. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look at the name. I just assumed they were Liam’s.” Her eyes crinkled. “I’ll go get them for you right now.” The second she turned her back, I scrambled to change back into my own shoes. Liam was still staring after her, a dazed look on his face. I raised my hand. And I slapped him. Hard. A bright red handprint bloomed on his cheek. He worked his jaw, a slow, deliberate motion, and then a small, humorless smile touched his lips. “You blocked my number, deleted me on everything… that means we’re done, right? You told me to get lost, so I did. Am I not allowed to get lost in someone else’s arms?” He took a step forward, backing me into a corner. His eyes dropped to the lace of my dress, to the rapid rise and fall of my chest. “And now you show up here late at night, dressed like that.” His voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur. “What, did you come to make up?” Before I could answer, his expression went cold. He took a step back, creating a chasm between us. “We’ll call that slap even for everything I did wrong in the past.” He glanced toward the bedroom where Chloe had disappeared. “She’s already a little sensitive about the fact that I’ve been in a serious relationship before. So, it’s better if you don’t show up again.” Just then, Chloe returned, holding the shipping box. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice soft and timid. “I didn’t realize this was yours… I thought Liam bought them, so I opened it and put them away. I’m not sure how many you ordered… do you want to count them to make sure they’re all there?” Before I could take the box, Liam leaned over her shoulder to look inside. The next few seconds stretched into an eternity. When I heard Liam’s low chuckle, I felt like a prisoner finally hearing the executioner’s bell. “Seriously, Ava? It’s been three days,” he said, his words trailing off suggestively. “Are you that… desperate?” He snatched the box from Chloe and shoved it into my arms. “There. All yours. Is there anything else? I’d rather not have my girlfriend get the wrong idea.” Under their combined, scorching gaze, my face burned. I wanted to say something, to defend myself, but the words felt pointless. It was over. I knew, with a gut-wrenching certainty, that this was the last time I would ever see him. So I said nothing. I just turned and walked away. In the elevator, I opened a message from my boss about a transfer opportunity to a branch in South Lake. Without a second thought, I typed back: I accept. The moment I stepped out of the building, I dumped everything in my arms—the box, the condoms, the whole pathetic attempt at reconciliation—into the nearest trash can. Just like Liam, I didn’t want any of it anymore. Back home, I curled up on my bed, staring into space, the acidic ache in my chest threatening to drown me. My best friend’s call was the only thing that pulled me out of the haze. “Ava, you are a legend!” she said, her voice buzzing with excitement. “You went in there and tamed the beast! What happened? Did he see you in your battle armor and surrender immediately?” Before I could answer, she barreled on. “I saw his post! Oh my god, and you said he was too cool for cheesy stuff like amusement parks! But he went! For you! He even rode the merry-go-round! It’s so weirdly adorable. See? A little cold shoulder works wonders. You’ve got him trained…” “Are you sure you saw that right?” I managed, my voice thick. She laughed like I’d told the world’s funniest joke. “Of course! I’ll send you the video!” I opened the link, my heart pounding with a sliver of desperate hope. The moment the video played, it felt like my heart stopped. The reason Liam and I fought was… complicated. In three years together, he had never once posted about me on social media. He avoided taking me to public places, especially on holidays or anniversaries. I would look at his cool, perpetually detached face and wonder, Does he even love me? But whenever we were alone, he was a different person—passionate, attentive, almost possessive. This time, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. At our most intimate moment, I asked the question that had been haunting me for years. “Liam, do you love me?” He was kissing my neck, his lips warm and distracting. “Does it matter?” he murmured against my skin. I didn’t understand. Was it so hard to just say the words? I pushed him away. He left, slamming the door behind him, without ever saying he loved me. My friend had found me drowning my sorrows and told me to give him space, that he was just wired differently. That’s why I had swallowed my pride and gone to his apartment. And now he was with someone else. In the video, he was wearing Mickey Mouse ears, a little lipstick heart drawn on his cheek. He looked goofy and happy and utterly adorable. It was a side of him I had never seen. “He has a new girlfriend,” I whispered into the phone, the words tasting like ash. Apparently, our mutual friends were just as confused. A few minutes later, my friend called back. Liam had deleted the post and re-uploaded it. This time, Chloe’s pretty, smiling face was clearly visible. I didn’t want to hear any more. I hung up and threw myself into researching the South Lake project. Then, at two in the morning, my phone rang. It was Liam. It was an unknown number. By the time I realized it was him, it was too late to hang up. His voice was urgent, laced with a desperation I’d never heard before. There was a raw, broken quality to it, like he was on the verge of tears. “Ava… I know I shouldn’t be calling you this late. But can you… can you please come over?” He paused, his breath hitching. “I’m begging you. Please?” My stomach dropped. I couldn’t imagine what could have happened to make the calm, self-possessed Liam Vance sound like this. A hundred different worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind. My body moved before my brain could catch up. “Okay,” I said, already pulling on a jacket and grabbing my car keys. I drove like a maniac, running two red lights. I even tripped and scraped my knee running up the stairs to his apartment. When I finally reached his door, breathless and frantic, the sight that greeted me stopped me cold. Liam was kneeling on the floor at Chloe’s feet, looking up at her with adoration. The living room was full of our mutual friends. When he saw me, he ignored the blood trickling down my leg and smiled, a wide, relieved grin. “Ava. You finally made it.” He turned back to Chloe. “See? Now can I make my promise?” He raised a hand as if taking a solemn oath. “I, Liam Vance, swear that I will never get back together with my ex-girlfriend, Ava Ross. No matter how she tries to seduce me, no matter how she uses our friends to pressure me, it will never happen! For as long as I am with Chloe, I will only be good to her, I will only love her…” The rest of his words blurred into a dull roar. I couldn’t tell if the pain was coming from my bleeding knee or the gaping hole in my chest. Chloe interrupted him with a playful giggle. “Okay, okay, that’s so cheesy…” She blushed, reaching up to cover his mouth. “Stop it… I know you didn’t mean to post the wrong video… Liam, you’re being so embarrassing. Were you like this with your ex? Just throwing ‘I love yous’ around like they were nothing?” And just like that, I was part of the conversation again. The polite, numb smile I’d been wearing vanished. No one noticed. Liam took her shoulders, his expression earnest. “No. I’ve only ever been like this with you. Ask her if you don’t believe me.” Every pair of eyes in the room turned to me. Pity. Sympathy. And from Liam and Chloe, a bright, eager expectation. “Are you guys done?” My voice was ice, and the cheerful atmosphere in the room instantly chilled. “A good ex is a dead ex. Haven’t you heard?” I had always been the compliant one, the one who deferred to him. When my cold gaze met his, I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes. I pretended not to notice and turned to leave. I was done being a player in their little drama. Over the next few days, my phone was flooded with messages from friends. Some were confused, others were indignant on my behalf. [Ava, don’t be mad. Liam’s just being immature. Chloe was his big freshman year crush. He never got to ask her out before she transferred abroad. You know how it is, the one that got away. He’s obsessed.] [You were the only girl he was ever serious with. He barely let other women touch him, but with you… it was different. It was physical. He’ll get over this little fling and come back. Just wait.] [He looked totally out of it after you left that night, like a ghost. And trust me, that Chloe girl is a piece of work… I think you two will get back together eventually.] I couldn’t deal with it. I stopped replying and focused on the move. South Lake was only a two-hour drive from my hometown. My parents and my brother would be thrilled. The night before I left, I got home from the gym and opened my apartment door to chaos. My clothes were ripped from the closet and thrown in a wrinkled heap on the floor. My makeup was smashed, the bottles and jars shattered into a glittering, expensive mess. I was shaking, about to call the police, when Chloe walked out of the elevator carrying a shopping bag. She met my eyes and smiled, a sweet, serene smile. “Oh, you’re back. Perfect. I couldn’t find the jewelry Liam gave you. Are you wearing it?” Seeing my confusion, she explained, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. “I saw all the stuff Liam bought for you on his Amazon account, and I got a little jealous… so he gave me his key and told me I could come and collect it. But you’ve used a lot of it, and I’m a bit of a germaphobe, so I had to…” Just as I was about to lunge at her, Liam rushed in. He took in the trashed apartment and my furious face, and rubbed his temples, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. “What happened here?”

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I’m the illegitimate daughter who was suddenly handed an empire. Drowning in cash I never asked for, I did what any lonely rich girl would do: I sponsored the one pure-hearted college guy I’d been crushing on for ages. I was naive enough to think I could buy his affection. But he was incorruptible, insisting that love wasn’t for sale. Then, the girl he’d always wanted found out about us. She manufactured a scandal, painting me online as a possessive monster who held him captive. One of his obsessive fans saw the posts, went completely insane, and slammed her car into mine, killing me instantly… Meanwhile, his first love got her happy ending. They registered their marriage on the day of my funeral. Everyone called me an idiot, a fool who lost her family and her life over a pretty boy. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back on the day I first laid my heart bare to Eric. “…Do you love me?” His brow was a tight knot of disgust, his gaze crawling over me like I was something filthy he’d found on his shoe. “No.” My fingers, surprisingly steady, found the clasp of the bra he’d just unhooked and fastened it. “Then our arrangement ends here. To be honest, I’m bored of you anyway.” 1 “What game are you playing now?” Eric’s voice was flat, laced with a familiar mockery. The phantom agony of the crash still echoed in my bones. I couldn’t stop a violent shiver from running through me. My hands trembled as I finished buttoning my blouse. I met his gaze, my own eyes clear and steady, and repeated myself. “I said, the arrangement is over. We’re done.” He didn’t believe me, of course. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Are you kidding me?” “Someone like you?” he scoffed. “You’d never let go until you’ve had your fill. Wasn’t it just the other day you were talking about locking me in this house? Putting me in handcuffs and chains so I’d be yours and yours alone?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, taunting whisper. “What is this? Some new push-and-pull tactic?” A dull ache pulsed in my chest. I shifted away from him, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “The other day was the other day. Now, I regret it. I’m just… bored. I don’t want to play anymore.” For the first time, a flicker of something—uncertainty?—crossed his face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the usual contempt. He still didn’t believe me. He straightened up, re-buckling the belt he’d half-undone. “You’d better mean that.” “I do. Every word.” To prove it, I pulled out my phone and dialed my lawyer, putting the call on speaker without a second thought. Right there, in front of Eric, I instructed my attorney to draft a contract termination agreement. “The sooner, the better. Have it delivered before sunrise.” After hanging up, I moved toward him out of pure habit, my hands reaching to button his shirt. I got to the second button before he shoved my hands away with a look of revulsion. “Don’t touch me.” In that moment, I felt his disgust with a clarity that was like a slap in the face. In my past life, I had always deliberately ignored that look, pretended it didn’t exist, and continued to throw myself at his cold indifference. This time, I wasn’t going to be that pathetic fool. I dropped my hands and took another step back. “Fine, fine. I won’t touch you.” “Just get your things. The lawyer will be here soon. Sign the papers, and you’re a free man.” I went downstairs first to wait. Two hours later, the doorbell chimed. The lawyer was here, looking like he’d driven through the night. Eric still hadn’t come down. I had to call his name three times before he finally, reluctantly, appeared at the top of the stairs. I signed my name first, right in front of him, then slid the documents across the coffee table. “Sign it.” He shot me a look, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. He was angry about something again. As usual, he looked like I had personally offended him just by breathing. He scrawled his signature with a furious flourish. “Congratulations,” I said, forcing a smile. “You’re finally free.” “I’ve leased this house through the end of the year. You can stay if you want. Or if you find the thought of it too tainted, feel free to move out. It’s up to you.” “Whatever you do… let’s not contact each other again.” I picked up my copy of the agreement, pulled on my coat, and grabbed my purse in one fluid motion. I didn’t look back at him as I walked out the door. My chest felt numb, a hollow ache I couldn’t quite name. I had just made it to my car when my phone rang. 2 I recognized the number. It was the homeroom teacher of Eric’s younger brother, Leo. The little boy had, at some point, listed me as his emergency contact. Whenever he got into trouble, I was the first one the school called. “Miss Sterling, I need you to come to the school. Leo’s been in another fight.” A headache was already forming behind my eyes. “Mr. Davis…” I was about to say I couldn’t make it, but he’d already hung up. The kid had no parents. He was a heartbreakingly lonely little soul. Even though his brother and I were through, I couldn’t bring myself to abandon him. I floored it to the school. When I arrived, I saw him standing there with a fresh scrape on his cheek, getting an earful from his teacher. I immediately slipped into character, putting on a show of scolding him before smoothing things over with the teacher. Then, I whisked him away. Hey, kiddo. Next time, you should probably call your brother. I signed to him. I forgot to mention—he’s deaf. I had taken classes specifically so I could communicate with him without any barriers. I handed him the LEGO set I’d promised to buy him. He pouted. My brother’s busy with his thesis and job hunting. I don’t want to bother him. I’m busy too, you know, I signed back with a wry smile. He ignored me, tugging on my arm and leading me to his “secret base”—a small, forgotten corner of a nearby park. He wanted me to build the LEGO set with him. Once we were nearly finished, he finally freed up his hands to ask a question. Isn’t this supposed to be my birthday present? Why are you giving it to me now? By the time your birthday comes around, we probably won’t be seeing each other anymore. I didn’t want you to think I broke my promise, so I’m giving it to you early. His expression froze. …You’re leaving my brother? I found it a little funny. Why would you say that? I signed back. My brother said you would. He said one day you’d get tired of him, and then he’d finally be free. The words were a needle-prick to the heart. Well, I signed slowly, he was right. Did he make you mad? I shook my head. No. Your brother is a good person. I wasn’t lying. Besides the fact that he didn’t love me, he was a good man. In my last life, everyone said I was blinded by lust. Eric was handsome, sure, but not enough to make me lose my mind for him. What I never told anyone was that I fell for him long before the money, long before the arrangement. It was never about his looks. 3 Seven years ago, I hadn’t been acknowledged by the Sterling family. I wasn’t the heir to the Sterling Corporation. My life was a special kind of hell. The other kids at school all said I was fatherless. They whispered that my mom was a working girl at The Sapphire Lounge, selling her body to make ends meet. They said I was destined for the same fate. They’d corner me, cut my hair and my uniform, pin me to the ground and slap my face. Eric was a freshman back then. He stumbled upon them bullying me one day. It was five against one, but he didn’t hesitate for a second. He fought them off, chasing every single one of them away. He saved me. He even gave me his school jacket to cover my torn clothes. Later, on the day my mother died, they ambushed me at school and doused me in sewage. The stench was so bad that even stray dogs would give me a wide berth. I stood alone on a bridge, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to just jump in and wash myself clean. I was so filthy. My mom would have been disgusted to see me like that. And then, I saw Eric again. That sweet idiot thought I was going to kill myself. Even though I was covered in filth, he wrapped his arms around me and held on tight, refusing to let go. He talked to me for a long time. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded. “Life is long. Things will get better. I promise.” Things will get better. I clung to those words. In my darkest moments, I would repeat them to myself like a mantra. It’ll be okay. Things will get better. And then they did. My degenerate, gambling-addicted half-brother died in a car crash. My father, rendered sterile from an old injury, was left with only one child. Me. Just like that, I became the sole heir to the Sterling Corporation. Suddenly, I had money. I had a mansion. I went from being a piece of trash to an heiress everyone envied. It seemed like I had everything. But my heart remained empty. Six years passed. After inheriting the company, I was representing our charitable foundation, awarding scholarships to underprivileged students. And there he was again. Eric. He was in college now. He’d long since forgotten me. But I couldn’t stop myself from seeking him out, from learning everything I could about him. My investigation revealed that his parents had passed away, leaving him to care for his younger brother. He was struggling, truly struggling. To support Leo, he worked construction jobs, hauling cement, and survived on a single bowl of instant noodles a day… He was nothing but skin and bones. It was pitiful. He was a good person, the only one who had ever shown me a shred of kindness. I had to repay that debt. So, when he was at his lowest, I deposited a million dollars into his account to cover his brother’s surgery. I had intended to remain anonymous. But he found me. He stood before me, his face grim, and asked, “What’s the price?” That one question ignited a greedy, possessive spark within me. “I want you… to be with me for two years. I’ll give you another three million.” I can still picture the look of humiliation on his face. The surgery was already paid for. He had no way of returning the money. I told him he had a choice, but really, there was no choice at all. With a pride as fierce as his, he must have hated me in that moment… We were both at fault for what happened back then. This time, all I want to do is make things right. And letting him go is the only way. 4 After dropping Leo back at school, I went to the office. I threw myself into my work, clearing a backlog of documents and then working overtime for two straight weeks to land a major deal for the company. As we were about to sign the final contracts, my assistant reminded me that a crucial file was missing. …The file was at the house I’d leased for Eric. I rubbed my temples, cursing my own forgetfulness. I had no choice but to go get it myself. I didn’t expect to see him there. That house had been his prison; I was sure he would have moved out the second he was free. But when I opened the door, there he was, sitting in the living room. Our eyes met, and I froze. “What… what are you still doing here?” He seemed startled too. A light flickered in his eyes before his expression went carefully blank. “Waiting for you.” “…Waiting for me for what?” “You still owe me for the last month.” Right… of course. I immediately took out my phone and transferred fifty thousand dollars to his account. As I did, I mumbled, “You could have just texted me about this. Wait, you didn’t delete my number, did you?” His voice was stiff. “You could send a message and find out.” I didn’t reply, just went upstairs to retrieve the file. As I came back down, I could feel his gaze on me, an unsettling weight. “…Is there something else?” I asked. He dropped his eyes, his tone deceptively casual. “It’s been a month since you last contacted me. What, did you find my replacement already?” The sudden question caught me off guard. I figured he was just trying to get a rise out of me, so I didn’t answer. As I turned to leave, he blocked my path. He was a good half a head taller than me, and when he looked down at me, the feeling was overwhelmingly oppressive. “Why won’t you answer me? I asked if you found someone else.” “…That’s none of your business.” “Is he better looking than me? More obedient? Does he know how to please you better than I do?” My heart gave a painful thud. I pushed him away again. “When did you ever try to please me? There’s nothing to compare.” “Just take care of yourself, Eric. Stop thinking about this stuff. You’re about to graduate. I hope you find a great job and have a bright future.” I patted his shoulder like an old friend. “If you need anything, I can give you a recommendation—” His face darkened. “I don’t need your help.” “Right, right. You’re more than capable on your own. You don’t need me.” I gave him a small smile. “I’ll be going now.” I turned to walk away, but my phone rang. It was my best friend, Maya. The moment I answered, my hand slipped, and the phone tumbled into the narrow gap beside a cabinet. To make matters worse, I’d accidentally hit the speakerphone button. Maya’s booming voice echoed through the living room. “Come on, Jess! Henderson says Club X+ just got a new lineup of models, and they are divine. Don’t tell me you’re still cooped up at home with that iceberg of yours?” “Get a grip, girl! The guy doesn’t even give you the time of day, and you’re still treating him like a king!” I coughed loudly. “We broke up.” I was squatting, fumbling to retrieve my phone. Hearing I was single, Maya burst out laughing. “I told you he was never good enough for you—” “Okay, that’s enough!” I cut her off before she could say more, changing the subject. “What time tonight? I’ll be there.” With that, I finally fished out my phone. I switched off the speaker, made my excuses to Maya, and hung up. When I looked up, Eric’s face was a thundercloud. I knew Maya’s words must have stung. I was about to say something, but he spoke first. “You’re really going?” 5 I hesitated for a second, then nodded. His expression grew even darker. I couldn’t read it, and I didn’t want to try. After a simple “take care,” I left. That evening, I arrived at Club X+ right on time. I hadn’t set foot in a place like this since I got together with Eric. My friends were shocked to see me. When they heard I was single again, their jaws dropped in disbelief. “Weren’t you the one who was so in love you were ready to chain him to your bed and never let him go?” I didn’t bother explaining. I just took a sip of my drink. The new models were indeed attractive. The one sitting next to me even had a slight resemblance to Eric, though his features were softer, his expression more eager to please. He was a charmer, constantly taking drinks for me during our dice game. When I shivered once, he immediately draped his jacket over my shoulders and ordered me a cup of hot water. Eric had never done anything like that for me. I shook my head, a little frustrated with myself. Why was I thinking about him again? The young man kept calling me “ma’am,” his words sweeter than honey. The alcohol was starting to hit me, and looking at his face, a wave of sadness washed over me for some reason. I asked him a ridiculously stupid question. “Would you still treat me like this if I had no money?” He blinked his wide, innocent eyes at me and nodded with a smile. “Of course I would!” I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes. Liar. In that moment, the whole scene just felt pointless. I said goodbye to Maya and left the club. As I walked, I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The young model saw me leaving and followed. “Don’t you want to take me home tonight, ma’am?” he purred, draping an arm around my shoulders. We stumbled along the sidewalk together. I was annoyed and tired, too weary to push him away. Just as we reached the entrance of the club, I stopped dead. My heart hammered against my ribs. I dug my nails into my palm. The pain confirmed it wasn’t a dream. Eric was standing across the street. As always, his face was a cold mask. When he saw me, he stood up and strode purposefully in our direction. The model beside me was oblivious, scribbling his number on a piece of paper and tucking it into my pocket. Eric grabbed my arm, yanking me behind him. He snatched the piece of paper from my pocket and tore it to shreds. He was rough, his grip bruising my wrist. As he dragged me away, he spat, “Are you that desperate? You’d settle for a guy like that?” My head was spinning. “I paid you in full, didn’t I? What do you want from me now?” The burning tip of my cigarette brushed against his arm. Sssss. He didn’t even flinch. He simply pulled me forward, bent down, and hoisted me onto his back. His back was broad and felt surprisingly comfortable. In my past life, I’d never touched him like this, except in bed. My eyes began to sting. Drunk people are always more vulnerable. My place was too far, so he got a hotel room for me. I took the key card and gave him a wide, sloppy grin. “Thank you…” “I’ll walk you up.” “You don’t have to.” His brow furrowed. “I insist.” Just as he said it, his phone rang. After a brief conversation, he let go of my hand. “…Something came up at the university. I have to go back. Get yourself upstairs safely, okay?” My eyes drifted to the clock above the reception desk. August 25th. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Today was the day Chloe was coming back to the country. 6 A red-eye flight, landing at one in the morning. In my last life, we had a massive fight because he went to pick her up from the airport… I cried my heart out, a hysterical mess. He just watched me with cold, detached eyes. As he left, he threw two words over his shoulder. “You’re insane.” A shiver ran down my spine. I waved a hand at him. “Go on, then. Don’t be late.” I watched his back as he disappeared into the night and shook my head with a sigh of resignation. Then I turned and got into the elevator. The first thing I did when I got to my room was block Eric’s number. Then I buried my head under the covers and slept. For once, I didn’t dream at all. When I woke up, the sun was high in the sky. My phone was flooded with 99+ unread messages. It was that little rascal, Leo, again. He’d been texting me: [Jess, I want hot pot! Take me!] [Why aren’t you answering? I miss you!] [If you don’t answer, I’m running away from school!] I ran a hand through my messy hair. My first instinct was to contact Eric and tell him to handle his precious little brother. But then I remembered I’d blocked him. Damn it. I could never be firm with Leo. Being harsh with him felt like being harsh to my younger self. In the end, I drove to the school, picked him up, and took him for hot pot. Just as we finished ordering, I saw a familiar figure across the restaurant. Eric and Chloe… My heart dropped. Leo froze too, about to call out to his brother. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back down. Don’t go over there. Your brother’s on a date. Don’t ruin it for him. Leo’s lower lip jutted out in a massive pout, as if he’d been mortally wounded. I don’t like that woman. I like you. I ruffled his hair. Thanks for liking me, kiddo. The entire meal was a covert operation. I ate hunched over, terrified of being spotted by Eric and Chloe, terrified Eric would think I was stalking them. Leo, the little glutton, ate for nearly two hours. When he was finally full, I rushed him back to school, breathing a silent sigh of relief. Thank God we hadn’t run into them. The awkwardness would have been unbearable. I went back to the office. I’d barely settled into my chair when an unknown number called. I ignored it a few times, but the caller was persistent. Finally, I answered. Before I could even say “hello,” a furious voice shot through the phone. “Did you block me?” That voice… it was Eric. “Uh…” “Come downstairs.” “Is there something you need?” “Downstairs. Now.” His voice was eerily calm. The calm before a storm. I rubbed my temples and headed down. I could see him from a distance, smoking. Didn’t he used to hate smoking? The thought flickered through my mind and was just as quickly dismissed. I walked up to him and stared. “What is it?” “You saw us today, didn’t you? Me and Chloe.” “Why didn’t you ask me about it?” He stared right back, his gaze so intense it made my skin crawl. I said nothing. The silence stretched between us. After a long moment, he let out a bitter, helpless laugh. “So you really did find a replacement.” “Jess,” he said, his voice raw, “were you just fucking playing with me this whole time?”

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I’m decidedly average-looking, but my boyfriend is Steve Bergman, the most sought-after heir in the city’s old-money circle. Two months ago, on my birthday, fueled by a bit of wine, he took me to a hotel. After that night, he went completely silent on me. When I went to find him, I overheard him complaining to his friend that once my clothes were off, there was nothing to look at. He was terrified I’d cling to him and was planning on ghosting me completely. He even mocked himself: “Was I blind before? I passed on all those gorgeous women and somehow got hooked on her.” You think I’d let that slide? From that moment, I began the quiet, painful process of detoxing him from my heart. So when Steve, after ignoring me for months while he partied with some freshman girl, finally came back to break up with me… I announced my new relationship the very next day. He was speechless. 1 Two months ago, on my birthday, Steve Bergman and I ended up in a hotel room, thanks to a little liquid courage. My period decided to crash the party, so we didn’t go all the way, but it still felt like our relationship had taken a quantum leap forward. I’ve always been a reserved person, my world revolving around academics. Steve pursued me for two years, and we dated for another two. Over that time, I’d grown to depend on him more and more. After our near-miss in that hotel room, my natural instinct was to cling to him, to be closer. But that’s when I noticed it. He was barely responding to my texts. At first, I didn’t suspect anything. His devotion to me was obvious to everyone. I just assumed something was wrong at home. So, after class, I skipped the welcome party for my study group and took a cab to his house to check on him. I had the code to his place; he’d made me memorize it not long after we got together. I let myself in. The living room was empty. As I headed upstairs, I heard voices coming from the study. The door was slightly ajar. Sometimes I think I must have incredible luck to have stumbled upon that moment. Steve was in there with his best friend, Mason, planning how to dump me. A cigarette dangled from the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Back in school, all I saw was how smart she was. I was obsessed with that cool, untouchable vibe she had,” he said, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips. “But then, with her clothes off, under the light… I realized she’s actually ugly.” “Seriously, man, was I blind? I passed on all those bombshells and got addicted to her of all people.” Mason shrugged. “Who knows? I figured you were just tired of the usual and wanted to try something different.” “Think about it,” he continued. “Every girl we grew up with looks like a model. You probably got visually fatigued. A nerdy-but-plain girl is a good palate cleanser. At least now, look, your vision’s back to normal.” Steve took a long drag from his cigarette. “You know, I think you’re right. I came so close, man. So close to sleeping with her.” “And knowing Clara, with her by-the-book personality, if I had, she would’ve latched onto me for life. The thought is terrifying.” “I’ll just ignore her for a while. Wait for her to have a huge meltdown, then break up with her. It’ll save a lot of trouble.” He rubbed his arms as if shaking off something disgusting. I just stood there, watching it all, a buzzing roar filling my head. Because of my father’s infidelity, I’ve never had a high opinion of men. Growing up, my only goal was to study hard, get out, and build a life where I could depend on myself. Then Steve had bulldozed his way into my life. He was this brilliant, dazzling trust-fund kid who threw his pride to the wind, confessing his feelings for me again and again. Even my best friend said it had to be true love, that Steve was different. I believed her. And now, I was the punchline to a joke. Tears welled up as I stared at his handsome, radiant face. I’m a person, not a block of wood. We had been inseparable for two years, and my feelings for him had only grown. That night in the hotel, when Steve held me, his voice thick with emotion as he called me baby, I thought my heart would burst with happiness. But here I was, dreaming of forever, while he was repulsed by my body. What a fucking joke. My pride wouldn’t let me storm in and make a scene. I quietly closed the door. I walked for what felt like miles, my legs burning, until I finally collapsed onto a bench at a bus stop. My heart felt like it was being shredded by a dull knife. As if on cue, the heavens opened up, and a torrential downpour began. Across the street, a department store was blasting music, the lyrics a perfect, cruel soundtrack to my life. Let the rain fall down, let it hide the pain on my face. Let’s just end it all, and be honest, were you the selfish one all along? Fine. Let’s end it, Steve. You want a clean break? You’ve got it. And I’m not just going to break it off. I’m going to do it beautifully. Otherwise, this high-achieving brain of mine would be a complete waste. 2 The next day, Steve still hadn’t contacted me. This was clearly step one in his grand ghosting plan. I had no idea how long he intended to ignore me, but I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for his call like an idiot. First, I unpinned his chat from the top of my message list. Then, I changed our matching profile pictures. The second I did, a message popped up. Steve: ? I didn’t reply. Another one came through. Why’d you change your picture? I ignored that one too. He must have gotten bored, because he went silent after that. I muted his social media feed and then completely overhauled my study schedule. I had sacrificed so much time for our relationship, skipping study group sessions to the point where my professor was getting annoyed with me. No more. I wasn’t going to let some guy derail my future. I packed my schedule with review sessions and competition training, then headed to the lab. A few of my senior lab partners were already there, along with someone new. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face. The moment I walked in, Mark, one of the seniors, waved me over. “Clara! Clara, you have to meet the new guy.” “This is Bob. He’s a freshman in the computer science department. He won the gold medal at the national competition last year, and his entrance scores were even higher than yours. This is a meeting of giants! Come on, you two, hug it out. I’ll take a picture for posterity.” Bob was two years younger than me, but he was incredibly tall and devastatingly handsome. The kind of face that could launch a thousand ships. Kids these days, I thought to myself. Great nutrition, amazing genes. They just keep getting better. As I was musing, he extended a hand. His fingers were long and elegant. “Hi, I’m Bob. I’ve heard a lot about you.” “You’re too kind,” I said, shaking his hand. “Just call me Clara. And you, my friend, are seriously impressive.” It was true. The national competition was a gathering of the best of the best. If Bob’s score was higher than mine, it meant his overall skills surpassed my own. And knowing Mark, he was probably being modest about it. Our little team had a bright future. Well, if my love life was a disaster, at least my career was looking up. It was a silver lining, I guess. I pushed my personal drama aside and dove into an intense training session with Bob and the others. By the end of the day, I was blown away by Bob’s abilities. He was young, but he had the calm, steady demeanor of a veteran. No matter how complex the problem, he tackled it with unruffled confidence. We left the lab together. As we walked, Bob, clutching a stack of books, looked down at me. “Clara.” “Yeah?” “I’ve actually… noticed you for a while now.” “Oh?” “This might be a little forward, but… do you have a boyfriend?”

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1 My sister, Seraphina, is the Empress of the Celestial Realm, the mother to us all. She is also a woman who would burn the world down for our younger brother. But it was me she fed to the demons to pay for his crime. While they flayed my skin and shattered my bones, my sister was weaving a Starlight Mantle for Caelan. Three thousand years passed. Only when Caelan needed my Celestial Core to break through to his next stage of power did she remember I existed. She summoned a servant, her brow furrowed with impatience. “Has that jinx returned yet? Caelan is waiting for his Celestial Core!” The answer she received: “We have not seen him in three millennia, Your Majesty…” And so, the Empress came to my old home. The disgust on her face was plain; she looked as if she couldn’t find a clean place to set her foot. After all, if not for Caelan, the supreme ruler of the unified Celestial Realm would never deign to step into a place like this. Her voice, laced with contempt, echoed through the quiet courtyard. “You cursed wretch, get out here now!” The door creaked open, but she saw only a one-armed old man. A derisive smile touched her lips. General Corbin kept his head bowed, his voice a low rumble. “Your Majesty, Lord Orion has been dead for three thousand years. Please, leave.” Seraphina let out a cold, disbelieving laugh. “He’s a sinner. Is this another one of his pathetic tricks to steal Caelan’s favor? Does he even think he’s worthy?” she sneered. “He knows Caelan’s aptitude is… delicate. That he needs a superior Celestial Core to advance. And still, he dares to hide himself away?” Her voice rose with every word, sharp and cruel. “Does he want to see everyone tormented to death before he’s satisfied? If anything happens to Caelan, I swear I will have his hide!” With that, she unleashed her divine senses, scanning the area for any trace of my aura. She found nothing. Corbin shuffled forward hesitantly. “I told you, Your Majesty. Lord Orion is dead. His very soul has scattered. Can you not let him rest in peace? He has done more than enough for you!” Seraphina shoved him aside, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. “Done for me? What has he done? The only thing he should be doing right now is carving out his own Celestial Core, begging for forgiveness, and then dying!” She fixed Corbin with a glacial stare. “As Empress of this realm, I command you to produce Orion. Do not force me to forget the old loyalties between us.” Corbin’s eyes were hollow pits of sorrow. He simply sighed and shook his head. “Dead. He’s long dead. Not even ash remains. You will not find him.” Seeing his defiance, Seraphina’s patience snapped. “Hmph! Then you leave me no choice, Corbin. Caelan is waiting.” She gestured to her guards. With a sickening crack, they broke one of the old general’s legs. They dragged him into the center of the courtyard, leaving a long, crimson smear on the stone path. “I will ask one last time,” she said, her voice devoid of all warmth. “Where is that spawn of misfortune?” Corbin, crumpled on the ground and gasping through the agony, was a sight that made my spectral form tremble. Sister… this is Corbin! The man who loved us like his own children. The man who saved our lives from the demons when we were just babes! And now, for Caelan, you do this to him? “Dead,” he choked out. “He’s been dead for thousands of years!” Seraphina’s face hardened. She raised a hand, and a shimmering celestial light shot into Corbin’s body. Then, she bellowed at the empty air around her. “Jinx! I know you’re not dead! I’ve planted a Soul-Eater Larva in this old fool. If you don’t show yourself within a month, you can watch it devour him until nothing but bone is left!” Her final words were a poisoned arrow aimed at my heart. “You already caused the death of our father and mother. Do you now intend to bring ruin to everyone who was ever kind to you?” She turned and swept away, leaving Corbin a broken, bleeding heap on the ground. The pool of his blood stained the earth a deeper shade of red. I reached for him, a desperate, useless gesture. I was already dead. I had died the moment she handed me over to the demons. Corbin, with monumental effort, dragged himself to his feet and limped back inside. The Soul-Eater Larva was a ceaseless torment, gnawing at his essence and his physical form, a pain beyond imagination. Yet, he didn’t make a sound. He reached out a trembling hand to touch the old battle standard that had belonged to my father, then gently wiped the dust from my memorial tablet before setting it back in its place. Finally, he collapsed into a corner and took a long swallow of fiery liquor. “My Lord, my Empress,” he whispered to the ghosts of the past. “Your humble servant has failed to protect the young master. I am coming to answer for my sins…” With my sister’s silent consent, the entire Celestial Realm had been allowed to scorn me. Only Corbin had ever shown me kindness, insisting that none of it was my fault. I had promised him I would become the realm’s greatest champion, that I would crush the demons, subdue the Fae, and protect both the mortal and celestial worlds. But I had broken my promise. 2 Seven days later, my sister returned. Her love for Caelan was a desperate, all-consuming thing. She was frantic to get my Celestial Core for him, to bind them together forever in their shared future. The more she pushed, the deeper the phantom knife twisted in my gut. Her purpose today was terrifyingly clear. She had brought the imperial physicians with her, their instruments gleaming, ready to harvest me like a crop. When she saw the life force draining from Corbin, a confident smirk touched her lips. “That selfish wretch. As I thought, he’ll abandon anyone to save his own skin.” She knelt beside the ailing general. “Corbin, help me, and I will remove the larva. You can live out your days in peace. But if you wait much longer, you truly will be nothing but a skeleton. Give him to me, and I will still honor you as General Corbin. What do you say?” She then gently activated the larva. Veins bulged on Corbin’s forehead, and a sheen of cold sweat drenched his back in an instant. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and glared past her at Caelan, who hid behind her skirts. “You and Lord Orion are siblings of the same blood,” Corbin forced the words through gritted teeth. “Is this how you honor the Emperor and Empress’s wish for you to care for your brother?” Seraphina tenderly straightened Caelan’s robes. “I have only one brother,” she said softly, “and that is Caelan. As you can see, I am taking very good care of him.” Her gaze hardened as she looked back at Corbin. “Does Orion think he can just hide and wait for this to blow over? If he jeopardizes Caelan’s ascension, I will issue a decree to the entire realm, stripping him of his title and casting him out forever!” At this, Caelan began his performance. “Sister, please, you mustn’t! It is all my fault. My talents are too poor, nothing compared to Lord Orion’s. I should not have been so presumptuous as to ask for his aid…” Sister. That familiar, yet alien word. I was only ever allowed to call her “Your Majesty.” The one time I had dared to call her “sister,” she had me pinned to the Executioner’s Spire to endure ten thousand lashes of celestial lightning. But at Caelan’s self-reproach, her voice softened to a melodic whisper. “Don’t worry, my love. I will find him, even if I have to tear this realm apart. Nothing will stand in the way of your ascension. You are the only family I have left.” Caelan nodded obediently, his hand gently stroking hers in a display of cloying intimacy. “Orion is your true brother!” Corbin roared, summoning the last of his strength. The outburst startled Caelan, who flinched and hid further behind Seraphina. She merely signaled her guards, who strode forward and slammed a fist into Corbin’s gut, knocking him to the floor. “Don’t you worry, Caelan,” she cooed. “As long as we have this old relic, he’ll show himself eventually.” She gave another nod, and the guards began to beat and kick the defenseless old man. From behind Seraphina’s back, Caelan watched Corbin vomit blood. A faint smile ghosted across his lips as he mouthed silent words at the general: Old fool. This is what you get for defying me. I stood there, a powerless specter, screaming for her to stop, begging her to see that Corbin couldn’t survive this. But she couldn’t see me. Three thousand years ago, Caelan, emboldened by Seraphina’s favor, had been gallivanting across the realms. His recklessness provoked a conflict with the demons. An army of them amassed at our borders, demanding his head. To preserve the peace, my sister chose to hand someone over. She sent a message, luring me from the front lines where I was holding back the demonic tide. She said an old friend wished to see me in the Aetherium Vault. There, she sprung her trap. She activated the Vault’s power, suppressing my cultivation, and bound my body and soul with celestial chains. The look in her eyes told me everything. I understood her plan, and terror seized me. “The one Caelan injured was the Demon King’s favorite son!” I cried out. “And I have been fighting the demons for years! I’ve slain countless of their champions! If you send me, they will kill me!” For a moment, she hesitated. But then Caelan began to weep, whispering a few heartbroken words of farewell, and her resolve hardened into steel. “You are strong,” she said, her voice flat. “You can endure a little suffering. Caelan’s cultivation is weaker than yours, his constitution fragile. To send him would be a certain death sentence.” And with that, she had me escorted out. The celestial soldiers who witnessed it were stunned into silence. A few of my loyal commanders dared to question her, and she had them executed on the spot. When I was brought before the demonic army, a hush fell over the battlefield. The demon general sent to receive me couldn’t believe his eyes. The Demon King was overjoyed and immediately withdrew his forces. The demons were creatures of cruelty, and I was their most hated enemy. They subjected me to unimaginable tortures. They tore out my tongue, gouged out my eyes, and flayed the skin from my bones. They drove eighty-one soul-binding nails into my spirit to prolong the agony. Finally, word reached Corbin, who was guarding the border against the Fae. He ignored the threat at his back and led a desperate charge deep into demonic territory. Carrying our father’s imperial standard, he roared at the demonic host, “Release Lord Orion, or I will tear your infernal kingdom asunder!” The Demon King only laughed. “Wasn’t it your new Empress who delivered him to me herself? Having second thoughts?” He sent his legions to meet Corbin’s charge. Shielded by the power of the standard, Corbin fought like a madman, carving a path to my prison and managing to retrieve a single, fading sliver of my soul. He returned to the Celestial Realm, hoping to beg Seraphina to perform the ritual of soul-gathering, to give me a chance at rebirth. But the Imperial Palace was awash with festive lanterns and music. My sister was busy organizing a grand birthday celebration for Caelan. “Do not bother me with anything or anyone related to Orion,” she had commanded her court. “It disgusts me.” On that day, Caelan stood in the Jade Pavilion, the center of the universe, showered with blessings. On that day, my last wisp of spirit shattered, my soul scattered to the winds, denied even the solace of rebirth. Remembering this, I tried to scream, but without a tongue, only a choked, guttural sound escaped my throat. Sister, do you truly hate me so much? Have you forgotten your promise to our parents to watch over me? Just then, Caelan coughed weakly, complaining that his foundation was unstable, his celestial energy in turmoil. Seraphina immediately flew into a panic, her senses flaring out again, convinced I had to be nearby. Corbin watched her frantic search with cold, dead eyes. He watched until she finally found it. My memorial tablet, standing alone on a dilapidated wooden table. She froze, her eyes widening as she read the name carved into the wood. Slowly, cautiously, she stepped forward to examine it. 3 She had seen the memorial tablet. Surely now she would believe. All I wanted was for her to leave Corbin in peace. He had suffered grievous injuries in that last, desperate war and could not endure much more of this torment. A small, secret hope flickered within me. If she knew I was truly dead, would she, perhaps, seek vengeance for me? Not that it mattered. I just wanted her to live well. But that flicker of hope was instantly extinguished by Caelan’s whining voice. “I know Brother Orion doesn’t want to help me, but this kind of joke is just cruel! We’re Celestials. What use do we have for such mortal trinkets?” Seraphina’s head snapped up, her expression instantly clearing. “Of course,” she said, nodding in agreement. She strode forward, knocked the tablet to the floor, and crushed it under her heel. “Hmph. Trying to fool me with these mortal theatrics?” A single sentence from Caelan, and she couldn’t even tolerate the sight of my memorial. Seeing this, a raw, guttural roar of fury erupted from Corbin. His eyes bloodshot, he summoned his tiger-striped blade and swung at Caelan, only to be thrown back by a shimmering shield of energy. It was a protective jade amulet, capable of deflecting any physical harm. It was the amulet our mother had left for me. Seraphina immediately intensified the Soul-Eater Larva’s torment. Corbin collapsed, writhing in silent agony. “Do not think for a second that because you were my father’s man, you can act so brazenly,” she snarled. “Anyone who dares to harm my Caelan will be executed!” Caelan had barely been startled, yet she reacted with such ferocious protectiveness. I remembered returning from battle against the demons, my body covered in wounds that went down to the bone, and she had merely complained that I was dirtying her palace floors. The larva’s bite grew stronger and stronger, but Corbin only clenched his jaw and glared at them with undiluted hatred. Frustrated, Seraphina gave up for the moment. But as they were about to leave, Caelan added one more thing. “Sister,” he asked sweetly, “this little courtyard… does it belong to our Celestial family?” And so, Seraphina had her guards drag Corbin out and dump him in the street. Countless Celestials gathered, their faces masks of scorn and amusement. In his prime, Corbin had been my father’s fiercest general—an upright man who could not suffer fools or corruption. He had made many enemies. Now, seeing him cast out by the current Empress, those old enemies began to stir. Within moments, he was surrounded. They beat him until his face was a swollen, bloody mess, stripping him of his last shred of dignity. He curled into a ball in a filthy alleyway, clutching the shattered pieces of my memorial tablet to his chest, his body shaking with silent sobs. “It is my failure,” he wept. “I failed to protect you, my prince!” Tears I could not shed streamed down my face as I knelt beside him. No, Corbin, no. After our parents died, in all the three realms, you were the only one who was ever good to me. I am the one who failed. But I was nothing now, a disembodied consciousness, a ghost no one could perceive. Without my Celestial Core, Caelan’s foundation grew increasingly unstable. His cultivation regressed, and even his youthful appearance began to fade. He locked himself away, refusing to see anyone. Seraphina, in turn, neglected all matters of state to stay by his side, coaxing him to eat and take his medicine, gathering every spiritual herb in the realm for him, and swearing on her life that she would dig up my core for his use. For I was the greatest prodigy in the three realms. My power had soared without the aid of a single spiritual treasure. My Celestial Core was the finest in existence. Finally, in her desperation, Seraphina issued a decree for my capture across all three realms. Wanted: dead or alive. All that mattered was the core. For a time, the forces of the realms turned every stone, searched every shadow. But they found no trace of me. How could they? My body had been destroyed, my soul dispersed. I no longer had a place in this world. She considered confronting the Demon King, but he would never give her a straight answer. He merely offered a dismissive reply: he had been rescued by a tiger. That tiger, of course, was Corbin in his true form. The Demon King had assumed that with even a sliver of my soul saved, the Celestial Realm would have the means to resurrect me, difficult though it might be. He had even been frustrated by it for a time. He could never have predicted that the new Empress, my own sister, would simply leave me to fade into nothingness. It was for the best. It meant I would see my parents again soon. As Seraphina’s anxiety mounted, she activated the Soul-Eater Larva with increasing frequency, trying to force my hand. Corbin was on the verge of death, his breath a shallow rattle. “Sister, for the sake of that one boy, you would treat our father’s loyal men this way?” “Sister, have you no shame before the soldiers who defend our realm?” Dark currents began to stir within the Celestial Realm. But the two at the center of the storm remained oblivious in their gilded palace. Caelan wept day and night, leaning against his sister’s side, spinning his tragic tales. “Sister, to have spent these millennia with you has been the greatest blessing of my life. If you cannot find him, then let it be. I wish to walk the mortal realm for a time. Even if my life ends, I can at least leave with some dignity. I hope that with Brother Orion by your side, you will be able to forget me.” His words tore at Seraphina’s heart, her hatred for me deepening with every tear he shed. But as she pulled him into a comforting embrace, a triumphant smirk flickered across Caelan’s face. These words were his shield, his ultimate weapon. He had once taunted me in private. “You think you’re so talented, Orion? So powerful? What does it matter? In our sister’s heart, I am worth so much more than you. Don’t you believe me? Watch. All it takes is a few tears from me, and she’ll break your legs without a second thought. If I were you, I would have killed myself long ago. You murdered your own parents. How dare you continue to exist? Why won’t you just die? Don’t you know you’re completely redundant? The entire Celestial Realm is waiting for you to drop dead!” 4 Caelan knelt by Seraphina’s side, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I’m just so afraid, sister. Afraid of a future without you.” She soothed him with a gentle touch. “With me here, you will always be safe. As for that jinx… once I have his Celestial Core, I will use it to reforge your own body and spirit, and you will achieve ultimate power. There now, stop your crying. You’re like a little puppy, always whimpering, hmm?” At that, Caelan finally managed a watery smile, rubbing his cheek against her hand like a contented cat. “I’m not a puppy. Sister, you’re teasing me again.” I stood beside them, a silent witness to their saccharine display. Suddenly, Seraphina’s head snapped up, her eyes locking onto the space where I stood. A confident, predatory smile spread across her face. “Found you, you little wretch. Time to answer for your crimes.” My non-existent heart skipped a beat. Could she see me? But what could I do, in this state? She walked straight through me, moving toward the great doors behind, her stride purposeful. Her search ended in a clearing not far from the house, where she found Corbin kneeling before a weapon planted in the earth: a three-pointed war spear. “Where is he?” Seraphina demanded, her voice a low snarl. “Where is that jinx? I felt his presence right here!” She laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “He couldn’t stay away, could he? After all, how could someone like him ever bear to leave the comforts of the Celestial Realm?” The truth was, the only reason I had never wanted to leave was because of her. Corbin glanced at her, his expression a mask of indifference. “Have you come to pay your respects to Lord Orion?” With a flick of her foot, Seraphina kicked over the incense burner at the base of the spear. “Tell him to get out here. I’ve had enough of his little game of hide-and-seek. Caelan’s ascension cannot be delayed.” She narrowed her eyes. “You said he was dead? Then I’ll use the Soul-Calling Curse and force his spirit to appear before me.” The curse was a forbidden art, reserved for the most vile and malevolent of Celestials. That she would use it on me… Corbin remained silent. Seraphina began the incantation, but after a long moment, she felt nothing. Not a single wisp of a soul answered her call. She scoffed, flicking her sleeve in frustration. “I can’t sense his soul anywhere. He’s alive, just as I suspected!” I could only shake my head in bitter amusement. Sister, I have no soul left to call. You can search for all eternity and find nothing. Just then, the three-pointed war spear began to pulse with a faint, ethereal light. In a flash, Seraphina sealed the surrounding space. She snatched the spear, a triumphant grin on her face. “Running away? What about this old man? Are you going to abandon him too? Just as I thought. A selfish, miserable jinx to the very end!” She enveloped the spear in her Prismatic Celestial Light, one of the most powerful and destructive forces in the realm. A single touch could injure, a direct blast could annihilate. Not even the Demon King or the Fae Lords would face it willingly. But no matter how much power she poured into it, the spear remained unchanged. Corbin watched her, his eyes as still and dead as a winter lake. Seraphina’s initial confidence began to waver, replaced by a growing unease. This was the Prismatic Light; it could unmake creation itself. If I were truly hiding within the spear, how could I possibly withstand it? Slowly, another possibility began to dawn on her. A memory she had long suppressed started to surface. Three thousand years ago. The day she had cast me out, offered me to the demons as a sacrifice. From that day on, I was never seen again. I watched her stand there, frozen. Are you finally starting to understand, sister? The greatest champion of the Celestial Realm… he vanished from this world long ago. But after a moment, she shook her head, violently denying the thought. “He must be here! I can feel his aura. He’s trying to trick me!” She channeled her power again, pouring everything she had into the Prismatic Light. The very space around us began to hum and tremble. But the hand gripping the spear was shaking, betraying the turmoil in her heart. I stood beside her, a silent phantom. Sister, please stop. I really am… long dead. Ignoring her, Corbin spoke to the spear, his voice a hollow echo of the past. “They tore his soul from his body, stripped the sinew from his bones. They tortured him with a thousand cuts, for three long years, before he finally breathed his last.” “Even as he died,” Corbin continued, his voice breaking, “he bore you no ill will. He only worried… who would be left for you, with all your family gone?” “After his death, they shattered his soul, ensuring he could never be reborn. The proud son of the former Emperor, the mightiest warrior in the Celestial Realm, Lord Orion… and not even a body to bury!” “I fought with everything I had to bring back a single sliver of his soul. I came to you, begging you to help me re-form his spirit, to give him another chance. And where were you?” “You were celebrating that impostor’s birthday!” At his words, a memory seemed to strike Seraphina. The color drained from her face. “You keep asking where he is,” Corbin spat, his voice thick with rage. “He is right there, in your hands!” Seraphina’s hand flew back from the spear as if it had been burned. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide with horror. No wonder she could feel my aura. The three-pointed war spear… Corbin had forged it from my bones. From the last whole bone left in my body. 5 My sister had loved me once. Mother told me that when she was pregnant with me, Seraphina would spend hours with her head pressed against her belly, whispering secrets to me. After I was born, she was my constant shadow. But everything changed after the war.

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1 The day I landed a nine-figure deal, my CEO boyfriend—who’d delayed marriage for years—finally agreed to meet me at City Hall. I rushed over, my heart soaring. But Nathan never came. Instead, a notification popped up: a post from his assistant. A provocative photo showed her hand clasped in Nathan’s, a new marriage certificate vivid against her dress. The caption read: He saved me from an arranged marriage… now he’s my husband! Colleagues buzzed in the comments, anticipating my meltdown. I liked the post and commented coldly: “Married already? When’s the wedding? I’ll send a generous check.” Nathan called instantly, his voice icy. “This marriage to Heather is fake—just to stop her parents from making her quit. It’s not real. Must you be so petty? Delete the comment and apologize. Once this is over, I’ll marry you as planned.” My reply was frosty. “Don’t bother. We’re done.” There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line before Nathan’s voice exploded with anger. “Monica, how many times do I have to explain this? It was a fake ceremony with Heather! Just paperwork to fool her parents. Is that really worth tearing us apart?” “I already promised I’d marry you,” he raged on. “What more do you want? There’s a limit to these tantrums. You don’t just throw the word ‘breakup’ around like a joke!” I clutched my phone, the cavernous, empty hall of the registrar’s office mocking me. A bitter smile twisted my lips. For ten years, marrying Nathan had been my only dream. I’d spent countless nights imagining our happy life together. I had the wedding favors and invitations ready to go. I’d picked out the photographer, our outfits, even the venue. All I needed was for him to say yes. But every time I brought it up, he’d use the company as an excuse. It was a “critical growth period,” he’d say. “Just wait until things are stable.” So I threw myself into stabilizing it for him. I took on every thankless job, every grueling project, working myself to the bone. When the company was finally stable, he said he “wasn’t ready.” He told me to wait a little longer. I waited for ten years. Then yesterday, after I secured the massive project that would set us up for life, he finally relented. He called it my “reward.” I was so ecstatic I couldn’t sleep, thinking my years of waiting had finally paid off. I took the whole day off, got here first thing in the morning, and waited. And waited. Until his assistant, Heather, posted that picture. They’d even driven to the next state over to get the license, just to avoid me. The stark red of the certificate seared itself into my memory. He wasn’t “not ready.” He just wasn’t ready to marry me. For the first time, I didn’t swallow the hurt. “You’re right,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “It’s just paperwork. The whole process, from taking a number to walking out with the certificate, takes less than ten minutes. A ten-minute process you couldn’t find the time for in ten years with me, but you managed it for her.” I took a breath. “And let’s not forget, you were the one who suggested we do this today. You left me hanging all day. Don’t I have a right to be angry?” My firmness seemed to catch him off guard. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with condescending fury. “Can you stop being so unreasonable, Monica? I told you it was an emergency! Was I supposed to just stand by and watch her parents ruin her life? Do you have any idea how much the company has invested in training her? I was protecting an asset! Was that so wrong?” I almost laughed. As if. The company was full of people whose parents were pressuring them. Why didn’t he “protect” them? What kind of “asset” was Heather, anyway? She had zero competence, couldn’t even use the basic Microsoft Office Suite, and hadn’t closed a single deal in six months. Any other employee would have been fired without a second thought. But in Nathan’s eyes, Heather was a diamond in the rough, a secret weapon who was only “letting us have the sales” to be kind. He was convinced that if a real crisis hit, she would be the one to save us all. In reality, the only thing saving her from termination was Nathan constantly reassigning my successful projects to her name. He probably didn’t even realize how deep his bias ran, how instinctively he protected her, how tenderly he cared for her. “You’re not wrong,” I said, a cold smile in my voice. “I am.” He took the bait, his tone instantly shifting to one of smug satisfaction. “Well, since you know you’re wrong, hurry up and delete the comment. And apologize to Heather. You’re making her look bad in front of the whole company…” “My biggest mistake,” I cut him off, “was not breaking up with you sooner.” “Monica, you’re being impossible! You want to be stubborn? Fine! You just wait!” He hung up. A moment later, my phone buzzed with notifications. He had unlinked all our shared accounts and changed his profile picture, erasing me from his digital life. It was his classic move, his way of punishing me into submission. But this time, I was just tired. Too tired to play his games. As I was about to turn off my screen, a notification popped up from the company group chat. It was Heather, tagging me. “Monica, please don’t misunderstand! Nathan was just helping me out of a tough spot with my parents. It’s rare to find a boss as kind and humane as him these days!” “If I had known you’d be so upset, I never would have posted it. It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry…” Nathan replied immediately. “Heather, you did nothing wrong. You don’t need to apologize. The person who needs to apologize is the one making snide, malicious comments.” The rest of the vultures in the office quickly chimed in. [Yeah, Heather, it’s not your fault! Monica’s just being petty! She’s jealous that you’re young and beautiful and have the CEO’s favor!] [Nathan is such a good guy. For a girlfriend, Monica is so cold and heartless. She deserved to be stood up! Serves her right!] I was used to their backstabbing. Ever since Heather had arrived and become Nathan’s favorite, they’d been kissing up to her and whispering behind my back. Their words couldn’t hurt me anymore. I turned off my phone. The registrar’s clerk looked at me with pity. “Ma’am, you’ve been here all day. Is… is the person you’re waiting for not coming?” “We’re about to close. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow?” I shook my head, my eyes fixed on the floor. “He’s already married someone else. He’s not coming. And neither am I.” I looked down at the ticket in my hand. Number one. The first to arrive, the last to leave. What a joke. With a short, sharp laugh, I tore the paper into pieces and dropped it into the trash can. The man who would never show, the wedding that would never happen—I was done waiting. The love that was never returned—I was done wanting it. I walked towards the exit. Just as I reached the door, my phone rang. It was Nathan. He had unblocked me. 2 My first instinct was to hang up, but muscle memory took over, and I answered. Nathan’s arrogant voice immediately filled my ear. “Monica. Have you learned your lesson?” He didn’t wait for me to speak. “Here’s a chance to make it up to me. Heather is exhausted after the long day, and she’s feeling a bit of a chill. She needs to rest. You’ll take her place at the client dinner tonight.” “If you handle it well, I might be willing to forgive your little tantrum from earlier…” The way he spoke, as if ordering a servant, made me laugh out loud. Had he forgotten that I had also spent the entire day waiting, exposed to the same cold wind? There was a time when a single sneeze from me would have had him draping his coat over my shoulders, fussing over me with hot ginger tea and medicine, terrified I might fall ill. Now, he spoke to me as if I were a tool, my feelings an irrelevant inconvenience. More importantly, had he forgotten that I was severely allergic to alcohol? In the early years of our startup, schmoozing with clients was a necessary evil. But back then, Nathan had shielded me. He would turn down any event with drinking, and if it was unavoidable, he would drink for the both of us. He’d come home staggering drunk, hugging the toilet bowl, but still find the strength to reassure me, telling me not to worry, to get some sleep. That man, the one whose world had once revolved around me, was gone. This time, I didn’t crumble. I didn’t compromise for the sake of our crumbling relationship. My voice was steel. “I can’t go, Nathan. I’m allergic to alcohol. And besides, that’s Heather’s responsibility, not mine.” His stunned silence was followed by a roar of fury. “I’m trying to be nice to you, and you’re going to pull this crap? I pay your salary! That means you are on call for me 24/7. That is your obligation!” A calm smile spread across my face. “Then I quit.” Before he could respond, I hung up and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time. “Mr. Sterling, it’s Monica. I’m accepting your offer.” The company was a major international design firm, a global leader in the industry. I’d met Leo Sterling a year ago on a collaboration. Just before signing the deal, I’d noticed a structural flaw in their new product—a design choice made for aesthetics that would have led to frequent malfunctions and a PR nightmare. After I pointed it out, he immediately halted production, saving the company tens of millions of dollars. He’d become one of my few friends. After learning about the way I was being treated at Nathan’s company, he had flown out more than once, trying to recruit me. He’d offered me the position of Design Director and eight figures in stock options. But Nathan, haunted by his childhood, refused to leave the country. So, for him, I had turned it down, sacrificing my own future to stay by his side. I thought my devotion would be returned in kind. Instead, I had lost everything. I had given him my youth, my health, ten years of my life, and in return, I didn’t even get his name. It wasn’t worth it. It was time to start thinking about myself. Leo’s joyful voice pulled me back to the present. “Monica, really?! We’re ready for you anytime. But what happened? The last time we spoke, you were planning a wedding.” I managed a wry laugh. “Nothing much. We just broke up.” There was a pause on his end, then his voice softened with sympathy. “Monica, I don’t know the details, but I know you. It’s his loss. It’s definitely his loss.” A moment later, a notification popped up on my phone. A fifty-thousand-dollar wire transfer. “A little something to help you get settled, Monica. We’ll be waiting for you.” I smiled, and after a brief chat about logistics, I hung up. Just as I accepted the transfer, Nathan updated his social media. 3 It was a photo of him and Heather at a trendy new steakhouse, all sleek decor and Western cuisine. The caption read: “Love at first sight, and still falling for you every day.” In the picture, Nathan was smiling, actually smiling, as Heather fed him a piece of steak. The irony was so thick I could have choked on it. Nathan hated Western food. He’d told me it was his least favorite thing in the world. His father had been seduced by a foreign woman and had abandoned him and his mother when he was just three. The trauma had left deep scars. He avoided anything and everything foreign, even turning down lucrative overseas business deals. On our first date, I had no idea. Wanting to do something special, I’d spent a month’s savings to take him to the fanciest steakhouse in the city. The moment the expensive steaks arrived, his face had darkened. He flipped the table, sending the scorching hot steak sliding onto my lap, and stormed out without a word, leaving me to be stared at and ridiculed by the entire restaurant. He gave me the silent treatment for a week. The incident was only “forgiven” after I knelt on the living room floor for half a day and transferred him a small fortune as an apology. And now, here he was, happily eating a cheap, frozen-and-reheated steak from Heather’s fork, without a hint of disgust. I guess love really is the best medicine. It can even cure deep-seated trauma. Our colleagues were fawning all over the post. Usually, it was just Heather dropping ambiguous hints, but now that Nathan had made it official, they were all tripping over themselves to offer blessings and pledge their loyalty. And Nathan, usually so stern and formal, was actually replying to them with smiling emojis. I knew he was doing it to get to me, to provoke me into begging for his forgiveness like I always had. But this time, I just smiled and closed the app. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten all day. I sent a text to my best friend, Maya. [Late-night grill spot?] Her reply was instantaneous: [I’m there!] … At the restaurant, Maya was halfway through a skewer when she glanced at her watch. “Hey, doesn’t your control-freak boyfriend have a 10 PM curfew for you? It’s getting late, aren’t you going to head out?” It was laughable, really. Early in our relationship, Nathan had claimed he was insecure and paranoid about me cheating. He’d imposed a strict set of rules. I had to be home by ten, reply to his texts instantly, and answer his calls within three rings. If he video-called to check up on me, even if I was in the middle of a client meeting, I wasn’t allowed to decline. I’d put up with it, telling myself it was because of the trauma from his childhood. But the rules never applied to him. He would disappear for days, sometimes not even coming home at night. Once, worried for his safety, I’d video-called him. He had exploded, sending me a barrage of texts accusing me of being a controlling psycho who didn’t respect his privacy. He’d frozen me out for a month after that. He thought he was being so clever. But I already knew the truth, thanks to the “accidental” photos Heather would send me. His late nights weren’t for work. They were for her. And I, like an idiot, had played along, strictly adhering to his curfew, turning down countless nights out with friends until they just stopped asking. My world had shrunk until he was the only thing in it. What a waste. I bit into a piece of grilled meat with a vengeance. “Don’t worry about him. He can’t tell me what to do anymore. We broke up.” Maya stared at me for a second, then broke into a huge grin, clapping me on the back. “Monica! It’s about damn time! That guy never deserved you. Tonight’s on me. We’re not leaving until you’re good and happy!” I smiled, and we ordered two more platters, eating and talking until the early hours of the morning. When I finally got home and opened the door, a pillow flew through the air and hit me square in the face. Nathan’s cold voice followed it. “What time do you call this? Did you decide to come home, finally?” 4 I was surprised to see him. Usually, after a “night out with a client,” which was code for a night with Heather, he wouldn’t roll in until the next afternoon. The pillow had hit my glasses, the nose pad digging painfully into the bridge of my nose. A warm trickle of blood ran down my face. Nathan froze, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He reached for a tissue, about to get up, but then seemed to think better of it. He sank back onto the sofa, his voice hard. “Why are you so late? You know the rule. Where have you been?” I ignored him, rummaging through a drawer for some antiseptic and cotton swabs. My silence seemed to infuriate him even more. “Monica, I’m talking to you! Are you deaf? Or did you do something you’re ashamed of and now you don’t have the guts to tell me?” I let out a cold laugh and finally met his eyes. “And you? Why are you home so early? Weren’t you supposed to be keeping Heather company?” His expression faltered. He wasn’t used to me calling him out on his lies. He quickly composed himself, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about? I didn’t have a client dinner tonight. After I helped Heather, I came straight home. And all those other times were just business trips. Stop letting your imagination run wild.” He tried to sound wounded. “I came back because I was worried about you. I know I was wrong to stand you up today, but that’s no excuse to ignore my calls and stay out all night. I was about to call the police!” He gestured to the coffee table. “I even brought you some of your favorite seafood porridge. I was worried you’d be hungry.” I glanced at the container of congealed, cold porridge and felt a wave of nausea. After all these years, he still hadn’t realized. This was his peace offering, the thing he always brought me right before he was about to ask me to compromise on something related to Heather. The smell alone was enough to make me sick. “No, thanks. I already ate.” He missed the ice in my tone completely, assuming he had already placated me. “Oh, by the way,” he said, “Heather was telling me her parents are still suspicious. They won’t be satisfied until they see wedding photos. So, we’re going to get some taken tomorrow.” He looked at me expectantly. “I remember you did a lot of research on this stuff. Could you recommend a good studio? One that’s quick and has nice dresses?” The hopeful, excited look in his eyes as he planned his wedding photos with another woman was grotesque. He knew I had done all that research for our wedding. “You’re on your own,” I said flatly. “I can’t help you.” His face fell. The seafood porridge had failed. His go-to tactic was useless. Then, his frustration boiled over into anger. “Monica, it’s just an act! Why are you being so dramatic about this?” “Whether it’s an act or you’ve actually fallen for her,” I said, my voice cutting, “you know the truth in your own heart.” The way his eyes had lit up when he mentioned wedding photos… even a blind man could see it was real. Cornered, he stomped his foot like a petulant child. It was the first time he hadn’t gotten his way with me. “You… you’re being ridiculous!” I was done arguing. I turned to go to the bedroom. But he darted in front of me, grabbed my pillow from the bed, and threw it into the hallway. “You’re not sleeping in here with me! You can sleep in the study tonight and think about what you’ve done!” He slammed the door, and I heard the key turn in the lock. Twice. He was treating me like a burglar in my own home. He thought he could break me. He had no idea he was doing me a favor. I hadn’t wanted to sleep next to him anyway. I just needed to pack my things. I looked around the living room. Everything in this apartment was his. I had nothing here but a few old dresses in the closet. I shook my head, grabbed my suitcase from the corner, and went to the study. The first thing I saw was the gift I had given him for our seventh anniversary. It was a string art portrait of us on our first date at an amusement park. I had spent a month of sleepless nights painstakingly winding tens of thousands of threads around hundreds of nails to create it. I remembered that day. He hadn’t wanted to go. He thought amusement parks were childish and a waste of money. He only agreed to take a single photo with me after I promised to cover all of Heather’s work for the next quarter. It was our first and last trip there. That’s why I had turned the photo into a piece of art, to preserve that one happy memory. I had cared for it meticulously, just as I had cared for our relationship. What a fool I’d been. You can’t force a man to love you. I took the portrait off the wall, picked up a pair of scissors, and with a single touch to the taut threads, the entire image unraveled. It looked perfect on the surface, but the slightest pressure shattered it. Just like our love. I swept the tangled mess of thread into the trash. As I was packing up some documents from the desk, I knocked over a loose folder. Hundreds of handwritten letters spilled onto the floor. I froze. 5 They were the love letters I had written to him five years ago. He had caught a bad flu that season, his fever spiking so high he had to be rushed to the hospital. Delirious, he thought he was dying. He had clung to my hand, whispering that he hadn’t heard enough of my love letters. He made me promise to keep writing and reading them to him, so that if he died, I could burn them at his grave and he wouldn’t be so lonely in the afterlife. To keep him conscious for the doctors, I had agreed through my tears. I wrote and wrote, filling page after page with every little memory of our life together, my voice growing hoarse as I read them aloud. By the time his fever broke, I had gone through ten pens. My index finger was raw and bleeding, spattering drops of blood onto the tear-soaked pages. When he finally woke up and saw my hand, cramped and deformed from holding the pen for so long, he had wept. He held me tight and promised he would be good to me for the rest of our lives, that he would never let me be hurt again. And now, there was Heather. And for her, he had hurt me again and again. He had broken his promise. I took a deep breath and swept the letters into the trash can. His promises had expired. Keeping these mementos would only be a form of self-torture. As I finished packing, I looked at the nearly empty study and the suitcase that wasn’t even half full, and I had to laugh. Nathan was always complaining about how tight money was, telling me to save every penny for our future wedding. He painted a grand picture of the ceremony, the rings, the new house… all the things we would have. I had believed him. I’d worn the same cheap, nine-dollar sneakers year-round, through scorching summers and freezing winters. I’d spent hours hunting for online coupons just to save a dollar on a pre-packaged meal. Every cent I saved, I gave to him. And he had used that money to buy himself the latest gaming console, a watch worth tens of thousands of dollars, and a life that looked perfect on social media. I had been so blinded by the promise of marriage that I had let him exploit me, ruin my health, and for what? A man who didn’t love me. I shook my head, dragging my suitcase toward the door. As I turned, it bumped into a small metal safe tucked away in the corner. It was Nathan’s most prized possession. I remembered during a typhoon, when the windows of our apartment had shattered, he had risked his life to drag that safe to a secure spot. No one knew what was inside. I had tried to guess the four-digit code countless times: our anniversary, my birthday, his birthday, his mother’s birthday. Nothing worked. Once, I’d even hired a locksmith. The man took one look at the safe, packed up his tools, and refused to even try, no matter how much money I offered. He finally told me it wasn’t just any safe. The lock was a state-of-the-art nanotechnology from abroad, and the box itself was made of aerospace-grade materials. It was practically indestructible. I had given up. For all our years together, its contents remained a mystery. But now, as I was leaving, a final, nagging thought entered my mind. A test. I keyed in a date I wasn’t supposed to know. The date Nathan had broken up with his previous girlfriend. I didn’t expect anything. He never spoke of her. I only knew she existed because one of his friends had let it slip during a drunken conversation. Beep. The lock clicked open. I stared. Who was this woman, that he cherished the memory of their breakup more than anything else in his life? Then I opened the safe. And my world stopped.

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I was the fake young master. When the real one was brought back, he was thin and dark. My parents, wracked with guilt, offered him compensation. But he scoffed. “I’m their real son. If you want to compensate me, give me the company!” My entire family turned to me. “You’re not our real son, after all. It’s time to give him back his rightful place.” I smiled, nodded, and signed over everything. The next day, the company’s largest client, its core tech team, and every single one of its distributors announced they would only work with me personally. My parents panicked and came begging. I crossed my arms. “Tell your real son to come and beg me, his former employee, to come back.” 1 When Jerry was brought back, he stood timidly in the grand foyer. I had just closed the MC deal. On the way home, my assistant had already briefed me: the Roiland family’s biological son had been found. My heart hammered against my ribs for a moment, then settled into a calm resolve. Fine. They found him. We’ll raise him. The Roilands certainly weren’t short on cash. But I never expected that the moment the real heir saw me, the timidity in his eyes would curdle into raw jealousy. “If you want me to come back and acknowledge my family, fine,” he declared, his voice surprisingly firm. “But he’s been sitting in my spot for long enough. It’s time he gave it back!” “I don’t want anything else. Just the company!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve been running the family business for ten years. Are you sure you can handle it?” My condescension was palpable, and it infuriated him. “I can learn! If I had grown up here, I wouldn’t be any worse than you!” My relatives chimed in, their voices slick with false sympathy. “Just give it to him, Alex. He’s the real heir, after all.” I looked at my parents. My father struggled to meet my eyes. “Alex, we owe him this. Jerry has had a very difficult life.” My mother was already clutching Jerry, sobbing uncontrollably. “Those vile human traffickers… they sold him to a backwoods village. If we hadn’t found him, Jerry would have been stuck there forever…” She turned to me, her eyes pleading. “Alex, just agree. Mom won’t let you be left with nothing.” Looking at their faces, I smiled. “Fine.” I agreed. I would hand it all over. I had always thought that even if the real son returned, I would just continue to do my part. It never crossed my mind to fight him. In fact, I felt sorry for him; I’d already ordered him a welcome gift. But this was the scene I came home to. Compensation, was it? Fine. I didn’t want any of it. On the spot, I had my assistant draw up the transfer documents. I signed them all without a second thought. Holding the company deeds, Jerry was ecstatic, burying his face in our mother’s shoulder. I took a deep breath. “It’s all done. If there’s nothing else, I’m going upstairs to rest.” My mother finally looked up. “Jerry just got back. Let’s have a family dinner.” “I’m tired. I don’t want to eat.” “Is it because you don’t want to see me?” Jerry’s eyes were red as he stared at me. “I just got here, and you’re already treating me like this!” A flicker of annoyance crossed my mother’s face. “Alex! Why are you being so difficult?” My voice was flat. “I just got off a twenty-hour flight. I’m exhausted and jet-lagged.” Only then did she seem to remember I had just returned from a business trip. Seeing the deep red veins in my eyes, she had the grace to look embarrassed. I went upstairs, ignoring the voices below. But in the family group chat, notifications were pinging nonstop. I glanced at it after my shower, a cold sneer forming on my lips. “Jerry’s back! Uncle, when are you holding the welcome banquet? This is a huge celebration for our family!” “Yeah, make it grand! And you can announce the company handover at the same time. By the way, Alex probably can’t live at home anymore, right? And what about the engagement? That’ll have to be reconsidered too, won’t it?” I ignored the rest of the vultures circling, but that last message snagged my attention. The Roiland family had an engagement pact with the Vaughn family. If I was no longer a Roiland heir, what would that mean for my fiancée, Amelia Vaughn? The group chat continued to buzz. It was all so tedious. I left the group. If I was no longer a Roiland, I had no right to be there anyway. Better to save them the trouble of kicking me out. But I still needed to clear things up with Amelia. The next morning, Jerry went out with my parents. I packed a few things, ready to move into my own place. 2 Amelia called and asked to meet. “Alex, there’s a problem with our engagement.” I’d known Amelia for over a decade. I understood her meaning immediately. My voice was cold when I replied over the phone. “You heard I’m not a Roiland heir, so you want to call off the engagement, is that it?” She was silent. Her ten-second pause told me everything I needed to know. “Fine,” I said. “But breaking an engagement isn’t something we can decide on our own. It needs to be discussed between the Vaughn and Roiland families, don’t you think?” After a moment, she just said “Okay” and hung up. I let out a long breath, a strange sense of relief washing over me. For the past ten years, I had dedicated myself to the Roiland family, elevating their company to new heights. The marriage alliance with the Vaughns was mutually beneficial. I prided myself on being a decent fiancé, and Amelia and I got along well. We were a united front in public, and I had mistakenly believed we had a genuine connection. I never thought a change in my status would unravel us so quickly. Shaking my head, I finished packing my things and was about to leave when Jerry and my parents returned. Money was a wonderful thing. The timid boy from yesterday was now dressed in a tailored suit, a completely different person. His skin was still a bit dark, but that would fade with time and care. Seeing me with a suitcase in hand, Jerry froze. “Brother, are you leaving?” I nodded. “It’s not convenient for me to live here anymore.” “You’re leaving as soon as I get back? Do you have a problem with me?” My mother’s face hardened. “Alex, how could you become like this? You’ve been giving Jerry the cold shoulder ever since he arrived!” “Mrs. Roiland, let’s not play games. Weren’t you all discussing how to kick me out of the house in the group chat yesterday? I’m just doing what you wanted. Is there a problem?” Her expression faltered. “I… they were just talking nonsense. That’s not what we meant. The Roiland family has no problem supporting you. By doing this, you’re just trying to humiliate us, aren’t you?” I laughed. “If that’s not what you meant, why did you speak to the Vaughns? Amelia already called to break off our engagement today. I’ve given you back everything. Moving out is what you wanted, isn’t it? Or do you want the world to think the Roilands have two sons, even though you never gave birth to twins?” My words hit their mark. She swayed on her feet. Jerry piped up from the side. “Brother, why do you have to talk like that? Mom is just being kind!” “Besides,” he added, a sly look in his eye, “the place you’re moving to was bought with Roiland money, wasn’t it? If you really want to cut ties, you can’t…” I stopped and turned to face him, my presence so overpowering that he instinctively shut his mouth. “The money I earn is mine to control. You might not understand whether I rely on the Roilands or if the Roilands rely on me, but you’d better have someone teach you, and fast.” With that, I walked out. My mother called after me, “Alex! Alex!” I didn’t turn back. They forced my hand today; they’d be the ones begging me tomorrow. Sure enough, I had barely left when my father called. “Alex, they may not understand, but you do. Can’t you just leave us all with a little dignity and stop making a scene?” “Tomorrow is your brother’s welcome banquet. You have to be there.” I just chuckled and said nothing. My assistant, hearing I had left the Roilands, immediately followed me. “Mr. Roiland, wherever you go, we go.” 3 My entire team pledged their loyalty to me. What Jerry didn’t know, what the whole Roiland family seemed to have forgotten, was that their esteemed position in this city wasn’t built on their “old money” name. It was built on me, Alex Roiland. But I would still attend his welcome banquet. The Roilands had gone all out, booking the entire Stonewater Manor for the event. All the big names were there. I went too. As soon as I arrived, I saw a few of the wealthy heirs I used to associate with. Their faces were twisted in sneers. “Alex? You still have the nerve to show up? Kicked out of your home and still putting on airs. Aren’t you embarrassed?” “Exactly. Look at the scale of this party. This is how you treat a real son. And you? You spent all those years working for someone else’s family, and now you have nothing!” “Why don’t you come beg me? I might give you a job. My company needs a doorman. You’re handsome enough. How does eight thousand a month sound?” I scanned their pathetic faces. “No wonder your families would rather support their illegitimate children than let you clowns take over the business.” My words struck a nerve. They turned red and were about to start something when Jerry appeared, forcing them to back down. My father took the stage. “Everyone, thank you for taking the time to attend the Roiland family’s welcome banquet. We have finally found our long-lost son, Jerry. From now on, we will do everything in our power to compensate him!” Jerry, dressed in a sharp suit, walked onto the stage. In just a few days, he had acquired a visible air of nobility, though the forced posture made him look a bit top-heavy. His eyes met mine, and he puffed out his chest. “Although my brother is not a biological son of the Roiland family, he has worked hard at the company for many years. I am willing to let him continue to work there.” “Brother, stop being angry with Mom and Dad!” His words hung in the air, and all eyes turned to me, filled with mockery and disdain. I curled my lip. “No, thank you. I’m not short on money.” “You might not be, but I am. I had a miserable life while I was away. But I never gave up on educating myself.” “Brother, if it’s possible, I hope you’ll stay. You can work for me!” My parents came to my side. “Alex, I won’t hold it against you for moving out. But your brother is right. The Roiland family raised you for so many years. It’s time for you to repay us.” I raised an eyebrow. “Ten years. I took the Roiland family from a third-rate name to a top-tier powerhouse. You don’t think that’s repayment enough?” “Work for you?” I laughed, my voice ringing with contempt. “I, Alex Roiland, only work for myself. If the boss can’t handle me, he can’t expect me to slave away for him. You taught me that yourself, Mr. Roiland!” My father’s face went pale with fury. The Roiland relatives seized their chance to kick me while I was down. “Look at him, so arrogant. He still thinks he’s the young master of the Roiland family!” “Without the Roilands, what is he? How dare he speak so brazenly!” “Brother, I think you’re just too soft. You should have kicked him out long ago! He occupied Jerry’s place for so long and doesn’t even know how to be grateful!” Jerry stood tall, a triumphant glint in his eyes. I had to laugh. Did this idiot really think these people were on his side? I scoffed. “You don’t have to kick me out. I’ll leave. But remember this: the moment I walk out that door today, I have nothing more to do with the Roiland family!” “Alex!” my father roared, but his anger quickly deflated into a sigh. “Don’t blame us for being harsh. Your temperament needs to be tamed.” “Fine. Then go ahead and announce it. Publicly declare that Jerry is the new head of the Roiland family.” “Because I quit.” I turned and walked away. As I did, I sent a single mass message, announcing my permanent and immediate separation from Roiland Industries. As I left, Jerry fumed. “Dad, brother is being so petty! He…” Before he could finish, my father’s phone rang. And not just his. All throughout the hall, the phones of the Roiland clan began to ring, one after another, a symphony of disaster. “What?! MC will only work with Alex Roiland? The contract is void?!”

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My pen hovered over a ten-million-dollar contract. Across the table, Carter Sterling, the “Crown Prince of New York Real Estate,” watched me, surrounded by the press. Suddenly, the doors burst open. A little girl, his three-year-old daughter, ran in, sobbing. She pointed a trembling finger at her father. “Daddy,” she wailed, her voice piercing the silence. “Mommy’s gone bad.” A collective gasp rippled through the reporters. Carter froze, his pen still in his hand. The little girl wasn’t finished. She pointed a small, trembling finger directly at me. “And you’re still in here flirting with your canary!” My back went ramrod straight. My hand, instead of reaching for the pen, shot to my purse for my phone. What? Who’s gone bad? My God, someone call 911. Wait a second. Did she say… canary? At me? Nobody sent me the memo. And I sure as hell haven’t seen a check for any “services rendered.” … 1 Every jaw in that room, including my own, was on the floor. The reporters, sensing blood in the water, went into a feeding frenzy. Cameras swiveled, flashes erupted, capturing the three of us in a perfect, scandalous tableau: the powerful tycoon, the newly-crowned Best Actress, and the little girl who couldn’t possibly know how to lie. Carter Sterling pinched the bridge of his nose, a deep weariness settling over his handsome features. “Please, everyone,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “She’s a child. Don’t take her words seriously. Ms. Monroe and I have a professional relationship, nothing more.” But the little girl’s sobs only grew louder, more heartbreaking. “Daddy, are you leaving us? Are you leaving me and Mommy?” she cried. “Mommy’s already dead—” Seeing my thumb hovering over the 9-1-1 on my phone screen, Carter’s frown deepened. He was trapped. With a sigh that seemed to drain the life from him, he made a decision. He was going to have to take us all home to see the “bad” Mrs. Sterling for ourselves. The Sterling residence was a palatial townhouse on the Upper East Side. Carter swept through the rooms, calling for his wife, Isabelle, his voice echoing in the marble foyer. The press corps, a pack of well-dressed vultures, followed closely. I trailed behind, feeling like I’d wandered onto the wrong film set. I noticed the little girl, Lily, kept glancing nervously toward a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. “Mr. Sterling,” I said quietly. “Have you checked the master bathroom?” Recognition, or perhaps dread, flashed in his eyes. He didn’t answer, just strode to the door and threw it open. “Isabelle, how long are you going to keep this up?” he roared, his voice cracking like a whip. “Get out of the damn tub! Now!” The raw fury in his voice sent a shiver through the crowd. In an instant, they surged forward, cameras and microphones jostling for position to see into the bathroom. And there she was. Isabelle Sterling, dressed in a delicate white slip, lay motionless in a clawfoot tub filled with water the color of arterial blood. The crimson liquid stained her dress and lapped at her pale skin, creating a tableau that was both tragic and eerily beautiful. Lily started wailing beside me, a gut-wrenching, genuine cry of grief. “Mommy, don’t leave me! I’ll be good, I promise!” she sobbed. “I brought Daddy back from the bad lady, see? Please, just open your eyes!” She looked from the tub to me, her blue eyes filled with a pure, unadulterated hatred that was chilling to see in a child. Just as I was about to finally make the call to the police, Carter did something shocking. He reached into the tub and hauled Isabelle out of the water, her limp body dripping red all over the pristine white marble. “Stop it, Isabelle. Just stop,” he said, his voice flat. “There’s no smell of blood. This is that expensive red bath bomb you love so much.” A stunned silence fell over the room as the reporters slowly processed his words. “He’s right,” one of them whispered. “It doesn’t smell like anything.” “And there are no wounds on her body.” “So… why did the little girl say all that?” All eyes turned to Lily. The three-year-old’s face turned scarlet, and she stared intently at her own tiny shoes, suddenly unable to speak. Just as the silence became unbearable, Isabelle Sterling’s eyelids fluttered open. She blinked, feigning disorientation. “Carter? What… what are you doing here? What happened to me?” Carter stared down at his wife, the last ounce of patience draining from his face. “Are you done playing games, Isabelle?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Faking your own suicide, coaching our daughter to lie for you… What was the point of all this?” The performance dropped. Isabelle’s tears vanished, replaced by a venomous glare aimed at me. “It’s because of her!” she shrieked, pointing a dripping finger in my direction. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on. Stella Monroe, your new little canary. The Oscar you probably bought for her…” Her voice trailed off, her implication hanging poisonously in the air. “You haven’t been home in a week, Carter. All for her.” I was speechless. I’m a glamorous actress, yes, but I built my career on talent and grit. I earned that Oscar with my own blood, sweat, and tears. But in the twisted narrative Isabelle was weaving, my greatest professional achievement was suddenly tainted, reduced to a transactional perk. Isabelle’s face crumpled again, the tears returning on cue. “I… I just missed you,” she whimpered, her voice thick with manufactured pain. “I had to do something to get you to come home…” Carter closed his eyes, looking utterly defeated. “I told you, the company has been…” He didn’t get to finish. I’d had enough. “Mrs. Sterling,” I interrupted, my voice calm but firm. “I don’t know what misconception you have about me, but Mr. Sterling and I are business partners. Your husband’s company and my career goals align. That’s why they chose me as a brand ambassador. That is all.” Isabelle collapsed against Carter’s chest, a fragile, weeping damsel. “Stella, please,” she sobbed, her voice just loud enough for every microphone to pick it up. “Please, don’t destroy my family. I love my husband so much. Our daughter needs her father.” She took a shaky breath, delivering the killing blow. “That lace teddy you ‘accidentally’ left in the sofa cushions last week… I washed it for you. It’s clean. You can have it back. Just please, give me my husband back.” 2 Her words were a grenade tossed into the room. The reporters exploded. “Ms. Sterling, what is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Sterling?” “How far has this affair gone?” “Ms. Monroe, was your Oscar win influenced by your relationship with Carter Sterling?” Isabelle buried her face in her husband’s chest, but not before flashing me a triumphant, malicious smile from the corner of her eye. My mind went blank with rage. I’ve never even met this woman before today. Why was she fabricating this elaborate, career-destroying lie? My composure finally snapped. I whipped out my phone, hit record, and aimed the camera squarely at her face. “Mrs. Sterling,” I said, my voice dangerously even. “First, this is the first time I have ever set foot in your home. Second, I am the brand ambassador for a high-end lingerie line. And third, I have never had any private contact with your husband whatsoever. This entire conversation is being recorded. For your baseless and defamatory accusations, I will be contacting the police and instructing my legal team to file a lawsuit.” For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed Isabelle’s face. Her eyes darted to Carter, her default setting when in trouble. But this time, her husband didn’t rush to her defense. Instead, he peeled her off his chest and exposed her lie. “What the hell are you doing, Isabelle?” he demanded, his voice laced with a fury I hadn’t heard before. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, a textbook love story, yet you insist on telling everyone we have an arranged marriage and that I’m destined to cheat on you. Over the years, you’ve accused my assistant, our nanny, and even our chef. I fired them all, just to give you peace of mind. I met Stella Monroe for the first time today. What is this canary nonsense you’re spewing?” Isabelle’s lower lip trembled. “Then fire her, too,” she pleaded weakly. “Replace her with a male ambassador…” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Carter’s lips. “She’s the face of our new line of sanitary pads, Isabelle. The artists have to test the product. How, exactly, do you suggest a man does that?” Cornered and defeated, Isabelle’s eyes scanned the room, searching for a lifeline. They landed on her daughter. “I wasn’t lying!” she declared, her voice rising with renewed conviction. “Lily saw it with her own eyes. She can prove that the lingerie belonged to Stella.” She shot a look at Lily, a silent, menacing command. If you don’t back me up, you’re in for it. The little girl began to tremble, fat tears rolling down her cheeks like pearls. “Mommy, I…” She hesitated, her small body shaking with fear and conflict. Finally, she took a deep breath. “The panties…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Mommy put them there herself. And… and she told me what to say to Daddy…” Isabelle’s face contorted with rage. But her fury wasn’t directed at her husband, who had exposed her, or her daughter, who had told the truth. It was all aimed at me. “You!” she screamed, lunging toward me before a security guard caught her arm. “What did you do to my daughter? Why would she help a manipulative slut like you instead of her own mother?” I stood my ground, my face a mask of stone. “Mrs. Sterling, for the last time, I am not your husband’s mistress, and I have no interest in your marriage.” “Enough!” Carter’s roar silenced the room. “One more word, Isabelle, and we are getting a divorce.” He had his security team escort the reporters out. As I turned to leave, finally extricating myself from this nightmare, Isabelle lunged again, grabbing my arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “You’re not going anywhere!” she hissed. “You conniving bitch, is this your endgame? Getting Carter to divorce me?” Carter looked like he had aged ten years in the last hour. “What are you talking about? Our divorce would have nothing to do with Ms. Monroe…” Before he could finish, little Lily suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. “Pretty lady,” she whispered, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please… please don’t take my daddy away.” 3 I knelt, gently helping her to her feet. I smoothed down her tangled curls, my heart aching for this poor, confused child. “Honey,” I asked softly, “who told you I was going to take your daddy away?” Lily glanced nervously at her mother before quickly dropping her gaze back to the floor. That was all the answer I needed. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to worry,” I assured her, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “I would never, ever take your father away from you.” I stood up, ready to tell Carter Sterling that he could keep his endorsement deal; no amount of money was worth this circus. But he spoke first. “One million dollars added to the endorsement fee,” he said, his voice clipped and businesslike. “And Sterling Corporation will donate ten thousand feminine hygiene products to girls in underserved communities, in your name.” The words died in my throat. Really, Mr. Sterling. The money is hardly the point. But that donation… that was a masterstroke. He then knelt down to his daughter’s level. “Lily, listen to me. I will always be your daddy. No one and nothing will ever change that. You understand?” Isabelle opened her mouth to protest, but a single, withering look from her husband silenced her. She settled for glaring at me with pure, unadulterated venom. After that day, I went to great lengths to ensure Carter Sterling and I were never in the same room. While he and his team had managed to kill the story with the press, a faint, ugly rumor still clung to me within the industry. Just as the whispers were starting to fade, Isabelle went live on Instagram. She appeared on screen looking pale and haggard, her voice raspy. “Stella Monroe,” she began, her eyes staring directly into the camera. “I’m begging you. Can you please just give me my husband back?” My name, alongside Carter’s, shot to the top of the trending topics. “My daughter, Lily, is sick,” Isabelle continued, her voice breaking. “She has a terrible fever. But I can’t reach Carter. He hasn’t been home in a week.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I know you’re the one keeping him away, but Lily misses him so much. Please…” As if on cue, she turned the camera to show Lily lying on a couch, her little face flushed bright red with fever. The child was barely conscious, mumbling “Daddy… Daddy…” over and over again. It was a heart-wrenching sight, and the comments section immediately exploded with vitriol directed at me. 【Figures. The whole Hollywood scene is rotten. Stella Monroe looks like an angel but she’s just another homewrecker.】 【I knew that story wasn’t fake! She’s totally sleeping with Carter Sterling…】 The tide of online hate was overwhelming. My fans tried to defend me, but their voices were drowned out in the flood. I was about to request to join her live stream and confront her when someone else beat me to it. Carter Sterling’s exhausted face appeared in a split screen. His voice was rough with fatigue. “Isabelle, what are you doing now?” he demanded. “I told you a week ago I was on a business trip overseas. What’s wrong with Lily?” He sounded genuinely alarmed. “Why haven’t you called the family doctor? Why is she so sick? I pay him a hundred thousand dollars a month to be on call!” Suddenly, a man’s trembling voice could be heard from off-screen on Isabelle’s side. “Mr… Mr. Sterling, it’s Dr. Evans. I’m here. But Mrs. Sterling won’t let me give Lily anything for the fever…” His voice dropped lower. “Sir, she’s been making her take a cold bath every hour. She said she’d fire anyone who tried to stop her…” 4 I knew Isabelle was unhinged, but I never imagined she was capable of this. Lily was only three years old. How could a mother be so cruel? Isabelle kicked wildly in the direction of the doctor’s voice, her eyes red-rimmed and frantic. “Carter, don’t listen to him! He’s lying! She’s obviously paid him off, too!” Tears streamed down her face, splashing onto her phone. “I know you’re not really working, Carter. You’re on vacation with Stella Monroe…” My fans were spamming the comments, pointing out that I was in the middle of a film shoot in the States and posting set photos as proof, but Isabelle was either ignoring them or too far gone to care. I couldn’t take it anymore. I hit the request to join. A second later, my face appeared on the live stream. “Seriously, lady, get a grip,” I snapped, not bothering to hide my anger. “Look at me. It’s nighttime here. I’m in the middle of the damn desert. There’s nothing but sand and stars. Now look at your husband. The sun is shining so brightly on his face it’s practically blinding. How could we possibly be together? For the love of God, keep me out of your weird, twisted games. I’m begging you!” The undeniable proof was like a slap in the face. Isabelle froze, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly speechless. In that moment of stunned silence, Dr. Evans seized his chance. He darted into the frame, scooped up the feverish Lily, and rushed away. Other people—staff, presumably—grabbed a struggling Isabelle, who accidentally ended the live stream in her frantic attempts to break free. Suddenly, it was just me and Carter Sterling, staring at each other from opposite sides of the world through our phone screens. He looked grim, his face an emotionless mask. It wasn’t stoicism; it was the look of a man who had simply run out of options. “Stella,” he said, his voice heavy. “I am so sorry for this. I will make sure my wife apologizes to you.” Before I could tell him to absolutely not do that, he ended the call. A week later, I was on set for a Sterling Corp commercial shoot when Carter appeared, with Isabelle in tow. “Stella, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, refusing to meet my eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten so jealous. I shouldn’t have said those things about you and my husband in front of all those people…” She sniffled, and the waterworks began anew. “It’s just… after I had Lily, I let myself go. It’s only natural for Carter to want something new and fresh.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. Was this supposed to be an apology? I felt a surge of rage so intense I was about to leap out of my chair and give her a piece of my mind. My agent, sensing disaster, grabbed my arm under the table. “The contract is signed,” she hissed. “Breaching it now will cost you millions.” The thought of that astronomical penalty was like a bucket of ice water. I clenched my fists and forced myself to sit back down. Carter was watching his wife, a look of profound disbelief on his face, as if he was seeing her for the first time. Isabelle, oblivious, continued her masterclass in non-apologies, each word a veiled insult designed to reinforce her narrative. Carter caught my eye and silently held up one finger. A moment later, his assistant approached me and discreetly slid a script across the table. It was for the lead role in a new film by one of the most acclaimed international directors working today. My vision cleared instantly. Suddenly, Isabelle didn’t seem like a demonic succubus anymore. She was my lucky charm. My golden goose. Carter then wrapped an arm around his wife, pulling her into an embrace. “Honey, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ve been neglecting you. I’m going to clear my schedule for the next month. We’re going to find you some help. A good doctor.” I learned later that Carter and Isabelle had been college sweethearts, a genuine love story that had culminated in a fairytale wedding. But after Lily was born, Carter’s work became all-consuming. Isabelle, alone and isolated, fell deep into the world of over-the-top romance novels, the lines between fiction and her own life blurring until she couldn’t tell them apart. She was a woman suffering from severe, untreated postpartum depression. Thinking of it that way, I found it hard to stay angry at her. After that incident, I avoided Carter Sterling like the plague. If I saw him at an event, I would execute a perfect 180-degree turn and walk in the opposite direction. But even with me keeping my distance, Isabelle wouldn’t let it go. 5 She refused to see a therapist, insisting there was nothing wrong with her. So Carter, the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar corporation, started working from home to be with her. Trapped in the house, Isabelle began a new campaign, mailing photos of me and Carter from the press conference to every tabloid and gossip blog in the country, hoping someone would expose my “true identity” as his canary. But no one took the bait. The photos clearly showed a professional, social distance between us. In fact, a few of the more reputable journalists contacted me directly to warn me about her. Undeterred, Isabelle upped the ante. She sent a new batch of photos to the seediest online gossip sites—blatantly photoshopped images of me and Carter in compromising positions. Her goal was to create a scandal so massive it would force him to terminate my contract. The plan backfired spectacularly. The photos ended up in Carter’s hands before they were ever published. The paparazzi, however, had a field day capturing the fallout. Photos of Carter, his face like thunder, were splashed across every entertainment site. The accompanying articles detailed their explosive argument, with Isabelle screaming that he was protecting me. “Right now, Stella is just your canary, but soon you’ll divorce me for her!” her voice was recorded saying. “You’re going to fall in love with her, I know it!” “I love you, Carter! I don’t want to lose you!” Carter’s fury was palpable even in the grainy photos. He was seen throwing a stack of files across his study. “I have told you a thousand times, my relationship with Stella Monroe is purely professional! It is not whatever twisted fantasy you’ve cooked up in your head!” he roared back. “And sending these obviously fake AI-generated pictures to gossip sites? Are you trying to destroy my reputation or hers?” For the first time, it seemed to dawn on Isabelle that she had gone too far. Seeing the genuine rage in her husband’s eyes, her bravado crumbled. “Fine… I’ll apologize to her, okay?” she stammered. I wanted nothing to do with another one of her “apologies.” I just wanted her to leave me alone. But, of course, her next apology was as unique and horrifying as the last. I was at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new Sterling Corporation manufacturing plant. As I stood on the stage, scissors in hand, Isabelle suddenly burst through the crowd, dragging Lily behind her. She threw herself to the ground at my feet, a dramatic, theatrical kneel. “Ms. Monroe, I know I was wrong!” she cried out for all the news cameras to hear. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t make Carter throw my daughter and me out on the street!” I was completely bewildered. Carter rushed forward, trying to pull her to her feet. “What are you talking about?” he gritted out. “You’re my wife! When have I ever said I was kicking you out?” Isabelle ignored him, her performance solely for the audience. “Carter, I know I shouldn’t have exposed your affair with Ms. Monroe,” she sobbed. “But I’m a mother! I have to think of my child’s future! Ms. Monroe,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, menacing tone, “I will not let you destroy my family.” She looked up, her eyes like a cornered snake’s, locking onto mine. In one swift movement, she sprang to her feet, produced a small, black pill from her pocket, and shoved it into my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but she clamped her hand over my mouth, forcing me to swallow. Chaos erupted. People screamed and rushed forward to pull her off me. But before they could reach us, Isabelle popped an identical pill into her own mouth. The crowd froze, terrified of what she might do next. Lily was screaming, lost in the sea of panicked adults. Carter’s face was a mask of pure fury. “Isabelle, what did you give her? What did you do? You said you were here to apologize!” A faint, triumphant smile played on her lips as tears streamed down her face. “You wouldn’t choose between me and your canary, Carter, so I’m making the choice for you,” she said, her voice breathy. “We both took the same pill. It’s a powerful aphrodisiac, and the only antidote is… a man. It takes effect in three minutes. The cure is in your jacket pocket.” Her eyes gleamed with a crazed light. “But there’s only one dose. Who do you save, Carter?” His hand shot to his pocket, pulling out a small vial. He stared at the single pill inside, his eyes wide with horror. “You have two minutes,” Isabelle taunted, her breathing already becoming labored. “This is insane, Isabelle! Give me the rest of the antidote, now!” Carter yelled, his voice tight with panic. My vision was already starting to blur at the edges. A wave of heat washed over me. Beside me, Isabelle let out a soft moan, but her smile was chillingly triumphant. “Time is running out, Carter.” Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. “Thirty seconds.” “I choose!” Carter shouted, his voice raw. He lunged forward, holding the antidote out to…

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The moment the entire class could suddenly hear my thoughts, a series of glowing comments, like a chat feed in a video game, scrolled through my vision. Before I could even process the first miracle, the second one clarified my nightmare. 【Here we go! The villainess is about to play the victim and frame our girl with her inner monologue!】 【This is exactly what she did in the last life. Falsely accused our girl of bullying and got her ostracized by the whole class!】 【Too bad for her. Our girl is a reincarnator. She knows all the tricks. The villainess is about to get so owned.】 A mind-reading superpower versus a second chance at life. Interesting. But who said anything about framing her? My plan was much simpler: I was going to personally lift her so high she’d have nowhere to go but down. 1 【Ascend runs, what, three hundred dollars a person? And Scarlett, our dear class president, knows I can’t afford that. Is this her way of publicly humiliating me?】 The thought had barely formed when Scarlett, standing at the front of the classroom, glanced over at me. A subtle, knowing smirk played on her lips. It was a look that dripped with condescension. So, the comments were right. Not only had Scarlett lived this life before, but she could also hear my thoughts. Right now, the invisible commenters were tearing me apart. 【This girl is such a snake. If she cried into a river, it’d turn into poison ivy.】 【She knows Scarlett would never do that, but she’s planting the idea in everyone’s heads anyway. Good thing our girl is one step ahead of her cheap tricks.】 【So what if she’s the real heiress in the end? Even her billionaire parents are embarrassed by her. Scarlett is in a different league entirely.】 【I mean, you gotta feel a little bad for the villain. Switched at birth by the nanny, then dumped on a mountain to die just to protect the secret…】 【That’s no excuse for what she did to our girl. She used her powers to ruin her life and get her killed. She deserves everything she gets.】 Wait. The comments said I’m the real heiress? All this time, Scarlett had been treated like royalty. She wasn’t just from a wealthy family; she was the Sterling heiress, daughter of the city’s most famous CEO. On top of that, she was always number one in our class rankings. Me? My father was sick in bed, and my mother worked odd jobs to keep us afloat. And in school, I was always, inevitably, number two, right behind Scarlett. But now, this invisible audience was telling me I was the one who was supposed to have it all. Well. This game just got a lot more interesting. 2 A cruel glint appeared in Scarlett’s eyes. She was about to speak, to expose me, but I beat her to it, broadcasting a new thought for the entire class to hear. 【I’m being paranoid. Scarlett would never deliberately humiliate someone. She’s always been so kind and considerate. She must have chosen Ascend for another reason.】 I let the thought hang in the air for a second before adding the masterstroke. 【Wait… what if she’s planning on treating the whole school? Maybe she mentioned it to our class first so we wouldn’t feel awkward when she made the big announcement. A surprise for everyone before graduation?】 The effect was instantaneous. Jessica, a girl in the back row who lived for gossip, shot up from her seat. “No way, Scarlett! Are you really treating the whole school? That’s amazing!” The classroom exploded. “Wow! Ascend? I’ve only seen that place on TV!” “Scarlett, you’re the best! That must cost a fortune!” “Of course she can, she’s a Sterling! She’s probably treating the whole school, not just our class.” Scarlett’s smile froze on her face. Her fingers dug into the edge of the lectern, the veins popping on the back of her hands. I saw a flash of pure panic in her eyes. According to the comments, her original plan was just to look generous in front of our class, win some points, and put me in my place. A simple, effective power play. Since she wanted to look generous, I was happy to help. All I did was push her onto a much bigger stage. Now, with Jessica’s outburst, every eye in the room was on her. The entire school was almost a thousand students. At three hundred dollars a head, she was looking at a bill of around three hundred thousand dollars. She was clearly not happy about it. She opened her mouth, probably to backpedal, to find some excuse. So, I gave everyone another little nudge. 【Or… maybe I got it all wrong? Maybe she never intended to treat anyone. Of course. A place like Ascend isn’t for people like me. I was getting ahead of myself, thinking I could ever belong in the same room as her.】 The mood in the room shifted. The other students’ expressions turned speculative. If she backed down now, after that thought, she’d look like a cheap, manipulative bully. Scarlett’s face was a patchwork of red and white. She stared at me, her eyes burning with a hatred so pure it was almost beautiful. But dozens of phones were already out, secretly recording. If she said no, the perfect persona she’d spent years building would shatter. After a long, tense silence, she took a deep breath and forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “You’ve all worked so hard this year. Consider it my treat. A dinner at Ascend for the entire student body, to wish you all luck on your finals!” The room erupted in thunderous applause. “Scarlett is a legend!” “You’re my hero, Scarlett!” “What’d I tell you? She’s a Sterling. A few hundred grand is pocket change to her.” The look Scarlett gave me promised murder. She was probably furious enough to spontaneously combust. The thought made me ridiculously happy. Meeting her venomous gaze, I slowly, deliberately, lifted my chin and mouthed two silent words. Thank you. The comment feed was going insane. 【HOLY SH*T! The villainess just roasted her alive! She totally backed her into a corner!】 【You can plan for the enemy, but you can’t plan for idiots. What was that Jessica girl thinking?!】 【Wait a minute, isn’t our girl supposed to be a reincarnator? How did she not see that move coming?】 【A thousand people at Ascend? That’s like, 300k. The villainess played her HARD.】 3 The final bell for study hall had barely faded when I packed my bag and took the long way home, through the poorly lit alley that was always deserted. The comments had already told me that Scarlett would be waiting. Sure enough, as I rounded the first corner, five or six guys with cheap dye jobs and bad attitudes stepped out of the shadows, blocking my path. A moment later, Scarlett emerged behind them, her shadow stretching long and distorted under the single flickering streetlamp. “Well, well, Chloe. You’ve grown a backbone.” She strolled toward me, her voice dripping with venom. “Who gave you the nerve to play games with me?” I lowered my eyes, making myself small, feigning fear. “Scarlett, what are you talking about? I don’t understand. Did I do something to make you mad?” My mind, however, was broadcasting something else entirely. 【What is she doing? This isn’t right. She shouldn’t be able to hear my thoughts. She must be bluffing, trying to trick me into admitting I have a power.】 Scarlett let out a cold, sharp laugh and lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. “The dinner at Ascend. That was you, wasn’t it?” “How did you know?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I immediately clamped my mouth shut, widening my eyes as if I’d revealed a secret. The performance worked. Her face lit up with smug triumph. She let go of my hair and patted my shoulder, her touch a mockery of comfort. “Did you really think your pathetic little schemes were a secret? To me, you’re nothing but a clown.” She flicked her chin toward the goons. “Do it. And remember, stick to places clothes will cover. No visible marks.” They closed in. Fists and feet landed on my back, my sides, the pain so sharp I curled into a ball on the filthy asphalt, able to do nothing but let out choked sobs. Scarlett just stood there watching, a cruel smile on her face, as if she were enjoying a particularly satisfying movie. After what felt like an eternity, they stopped. Scarlett walked over and used the toe of her expensive shoe to tilt my chin up. She looked down at me, her face a mask of contempt. “Three hundred thousand dollars is nothing to me, Chloe. I don’t care about the money. But you… you should care about whether your parents live or die, shouldn’t you?” My eyes shot open in genuine fear. “What are you going to do?” She smiled. “Your mother having that street-sweeping job? That’s a gift. From me.” She drew the words out slowly. “What do you think would happen to your family if I had her fired?” I trembled, scrambling up from the ground and onto my knees. I bowed my head and begged, knocking my forehead against the cold, gritty concrete. “I’m sorry, Scarlett! I was wrong! It was a moment of stupidity, I’ll never go against you again! I’ll do whatever you say, just please… please don’t hurt my parents!” The impact sent stars through my vision, but I knew the act had to be convincing. It was. Scarlett’s smile widened. She bent down and patted my cheek, her touch condescending. “See? That’s much better. Remember your place. Crushing you is as easy as stepping on an ant.” With that, she turned and walked away, her entourage trailing behind her. I stayed on the ground until the sound of their footsteps disappeared completely. Then, slowly, I pushed myself up. The terror in my eyes was gone, replaced by an icy calm. The throbbing pain in my body was real, but it was nothing compared to the path I had to walk. The comments were scrolling furiously. 【YES! That’s how you do it! You can’t go soft on a snake like her!】 【Teach her a lesson! Let’s see her try to scheme against our girl now!】 【Scarlett is too kind. If it were me, I’d have her whole family run out of town.】 【The party this weekend is going to be epic. Scarlett will be the star, and that little witch will be crying in a corner somewhere.】 【Exactly. A villain should know their place. Trying to fight the main character is just pathetic.】 I leaned against the brick wall, dusting off my clothes. A small, unnoticeable smile touched my lips. Pathetic? They would all soon find out who the truly pathetic one was. The grand feast at Ascend was just another trap I had set for her. And she was walking right into it. 4 At the weekend party for the whole school, Scarlett was the undisputed center of the universe. She wore a champagne-colored silk gown, a diamond necklace glittering at her throat that probably cost more than my house. The moment she saw me standing hesitantly at the entrance, she turned. A flicker of triumph crossed her face as her eyes swept over me. “Chloe! You finally made it.” She gathered her dress and glided over, her voice pitched just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “You’re so practical, Chloe. Wearing your school uniform to a party. It’s… refreshing. So clean and simple compared to all of this.” Her words were a masterclass in backhanded compliments, and they drew a ripple of quiet, cruel laughter from the surrounding students. Someone raised their voice. “A uniform? Chloe, are things that bad at home? You can’t even afford a single nice dress?” I looked down, feigning embarrassment, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a waiter passing with a tray of champagne flutes. Right on schedule. As the comments had predicted, the show was about to begin. A second later, someone “accidentally” bumped into the waiter. The tray tilted, glasses shattered on the floor, and golden liquid splashed all over a nearby student’s designer dress. The waiter, a middle-aged woman, went pale. She bowed frantically, apologizing over and over. “I’m so sorry, so sorry! It was an accident!” “Are you blind?” the student shrieked, pointing at the woman’s face. “Do you have any idea how much this dress costs? You’re going to pay for this!” Just then, a voice from the crowd mused aloud, “Hey, doesn’t she look familiar?” Another voice chimed in instantly. “Yeah! She’s the one who sweeps the streets near our school! I think… I think that’s Chloe’s mom!” A lightning bolt of silence struck the room. Every single head swiveled from the terrified waiter to me. Their gazes were now filled with a mixture of mockery and disgust. “So Chloe’s mom is a street sweeper…” “No wonder she wore her uniform. They really are that poor.” “Scarlett is such a saint for even inviting her. I’d be worried she’d stink up the place.” Scarlett stood in the middle of it all, a faint, pleased smile on her lips. “Don’t say that, guys. You’ll hurt Chloe’s feelings. It’s not her fault her mom sweeps streets for a living.” The comments were a chorus of praise for her cruelty. 【Savage! A total fatality! The villainess is completely humiliated.】 【Best move ever! Paying a few hundred bucks to hire her mom as a server just to expose her in front of the whole school? Genius!】 【A stinky, dirty street sweeper for a mom. If I were the villain, I’d just go die of shame.】 【And Scarlett didn’t even have to say a word! She let everyone else do the dirty work for her. So smart!】 I remained silent, counting down in my head. Three… two… one… “What is going on here?” A deep, commanding male voice cut through the chatter from the doorway, carrying an authority that could not be ignored.

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The day of my wedding, my brother ruined my dress. He stormed into the bridal suite and emptied a glass of red wine right down the front of it. “Chloe, are you sick?” he spat, his voice shaking with rage. “You know how Ava feels about Caleb. What is all this? This whole spectacle, just to rub it in her face?” My fiancé, Caleb, stood behind him, leaning against the doorframe, his face a mask of cold indifference. “I’ll give you two choices,” Caleb said, his voice low and steady. “One, you walk down that aisle in the stained dress and we get this over with.” He paused, letting the cruelty of it sink in. “Two, you go to Ava right now and apologize. You fix what you broke, you make her feel better. If you can manage that, I’ll tell everyone the wedding is postponed.” I didn’t choose either. I chose a third path. I walked out in that ruined gown, stood before our family and friends, and I called off the wedding. My brother, my fiancé, my sister… I was done. I wanted none of them. But later, long after I had left, I heard the stories. The heirs to Northwood’s two most powerful families had lost their minds. They were scouring the globe, trying to hire the world’s most brilliant designers, all for one impossible task: to repair a wedding dress stained with wine and memory. 1 When Ethan burst into the suite, I had just finished putting on the dress. It had been my mother’s final design, the one she poured the last of her strength into, a masterpiece I had treasured for a decade. I hadn’t even had a chance to see myself in the mirror before the man who shared my face kicked the door open. “Chloe, what is wrong with you?” he yelled. “I warned you! How many times did I tell you not to go through with this circus?” He stomped toward me, his face contorted. “Do you have any idea how much you’re hurting her? Ava’s been crying her eyes out all morning because of you. Is this what you wanted?” His words were a physical blow. The flicker of joy I’d felt seeing him, just for a second, died. Of course. It was always about Ava. The weight of the dress, the intricate beading and layers of silk, suddenly felt like a cage. It was my wedding day. A day for peace, for promises. Not for this. I took a shallow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I wouldn’t trade insults with him, not today. “Ethan, can we please not fight?” I said, my voice quiet. “Not today. It’s my wedding day. I just want to be happy.” His face darkened. “Happy?” He took another step, invading my space. “Can you stop being so selfish for one second? It’s just a wedding. Is it more important than Ava’s feelings?” He was practically pleading, but there was an edge of accusation in his tone that made my skin crawl. “She is so fragile, Chloe. She’s heartbroken, but she still wanted to wish you and Caleb the best. All she asked—the only thing she asked—was for you to tone it down. A small family dinner would have been perfect. Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” His entitlement, his complete blindness to my own feelings, made my hands tremble. The carefully constructed calm shattered. “The person getting married is me,” I shot back, my voice rising. “What is so wrong with me wanting a real wedding? Who cares if Ava is sad? Why am I the one who always has to pay for her emotions?” “Don’t you talk about her like that!” he roared. “Ava is your sister! It’s your job to look out for her, to be the bigger person!” A hot, dizzying rage washed over me. “She is your sister, not mine! My mother only had one daughter!” “Shut up!” The cold liquid hit my face first, then cascaded down my hair, a river of dark red over the pure white silk of my dress. For a second, we both froze. The world went silent. Ethan looked down at the empty wine glass in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. The rational part of him seemed to flicker back to life, his hand starting to shake. “Chlo… Chloe, I didn’t—” He fumbled for a napkin on the vanity, scrambling to wipe my face, but I flinched away. I was numb. Like a ghost in my own body, I looked down at the ugly, dark stain blooming across the bodice of my mother’s last gift to me. Wine was still dripping from the ends of my hair. Ethan, probably realizing how pathetic this looked, tried again, pressing the napkin to my forehead. “Honestly, Ethan, why bother?” A new voice, laced with contempt, cut through the tension. Caleb was still in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a cruel smirk on his face. I saw then that he wasn’t even wearing his tuxedo. He had on a casual jacket over a white t-shirt. On the chest was a faded, hand-painted sun—Ava’s birthday gift to him last year. 2 He tilted his head, a soft, mocking laugh escaping his lips as he took in my ruined appearance. “You really thought you could pull this off, didn’t you, Chloe?” he said, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You thought charming my parents meant you could control my life? Dream on. You can play all the games you want, but you’ll never be half the woman Ava is.” The pure hatred in his eyes was almost comical. Our families had been planning this since we were kids. Not once, not a single time, had he ever said he didn’t want it. Even after he started orbiting Ava, treating her with a tenderness he never showed me, he never once mentioned breaking the engagement. The wedding had been his parents’ idea. They were tired of waiting. When Ava heard the news, she’d thrown a fit, refusing to eat. Ethan and Caleb had been beside themselves with worry, both of them ignoring my calls to comfort her. The last time I’d managed to get Caleb on the phone, I’d asked him straight out: “Caleb, do you even want to marry me?” There was a long silence. Then, in the background, I heard Ava’s tearful voice, small and wounded. “Caleb? Who is that? Is it… is it Chloe?” He’d finally snapped. “God, this is so annoying. It’s been decided, okay? What’s the point in asking? Just stop calling me!” His father had assured me everything was fine. He would handle the arrangements, and he would talk to Caleb. Looking at him now, I realized what “talking to Caleb” meant. His father must have laid into him, and this was his petty revenge. A dry laugh escaped my lips. I took the napkin from Ethan’s limp hand and calmly wiped the wine from my face. “Chloe! Chloe, is Caleb here yet? The coordinator needs you both for the processional… Oh my God.” My maid of honor, Maya, skidded to a halt in the doorway. Her eyes widened in disbelief, darting from my stained dress to the two men standing there like vultures. She understood instantly. “You bastards! Are you hurting her again?” She lunged for Caleb, nails out, but I caught her arm just in time. Maya’s dad was a senior VP at Caleb’s family company. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing about this was worth it. Caleb, however, seemed to misread the gesture. He saw me standing between him and Maya, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion crossed his face. Then his expression hardened again, and his voice dropped. “I’ll give you two choices,” he repeated. “One, you wear the damn dress and we get this over with.” “Two, you go apologize to Ava. You fix this. If you do, I’ll postpone. I’ll even find someone to make you a new dress. Your call.” He said it was a choice, but his face was a taunt. He was daring me to fight, to scream, to make a scene. Tears of rage streamed down Maya’s face. She looked like she wanted to kill him. But me? I felt nothing. The anger had burned out, leaving behind an unnerving calm. I looked him straight in the eye. “No, thank you, Mr. Thorne. My mother—the world-renowned designer Elena Vance—made this dress for me before she died. I don’t think you can find anyone better than her.” Thud. Behind me, Ethan stumbled back into the vanity. I glanced over my shoulder and met his wide, shocked eyes. His lips trembled, but no words came out. He had forgotten. I turned back to Caleb. “So, your two choices? I don’t want either of them.” 3 I walked down the aisle alone, carrying my own bouquet. At the altar, only Caleb’s parents were waiting. My own parents were gone, lost years ago. Other than the brother who had just assaulted me, I had no blood relatives left in the world. Ignoring the gasps and confused whispers from the crowd, I calmly took the microphone from the officiant. “I’m so sorry you all have to see me like this,” I began, my voice clear and steady. “Please, forgive my appearance.” Caleb, finally realizing what was happening, rushed onto the stage and grabbed my arm. “Chloe, what are you doing?” “Exactly what you wanted,” I said, pulling my arm free. “As you can all see, my fiancé, Mr. Thorne, hasn’t even bothered to change.” I let my eyes sweep across the stunned faces in the audience. “He believes I schemed my way into this wedding. Well, as of right now, consider my scheming over. I am officially announcing that my engagement to Caleb Thorne is broken. From this moment on, we go our separate ways.” I dropped the microphone. The clatter echoed through the silent venue. I turned and walked off the stage, leaving Caleb standing there, a statue in a storm of chaos. At the back of the hall stood Ethan, his face pale, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate energy. He reached out to stop me, but his hand froze in midair as his gaze fell on the deep, crimson stain on my dress. I didn’t pause for him. I didn’t pause for anyone. I tossed my bouquet aside and walked right past him, out the door where Maya was waiting, her car already running. “Chloe! Get in!” The moment the door slammed shut, I felt the tremors start in my hands. In the rearview mirror, I saw a face streaked with tears, my makeup a faint smudge beneath my eyes. Maya pressed a tissue into my hand, muttering a stream of curses against Caleb. “He used to be such a sweet kid. What happened to him?” she fumed. “He used to adore you! God, men are trash. They change their minds faster than they change their clothes.” Her voice softened as she saw me press the tissue to my face, my shoulders shaking silently. “Chloe…” “I’m okay, Maya. Really,” I whispered. “I just… I miss my mom.” The car fell silent. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the familiar scenery blur past. Everything had changed, and I was the only one foolish enough to stand still, waiting for a past that was never coming back. It wasn’t always like this. Ethan and Caleb… they were good to me, once. They really were. My mother was a world-famous wedding gown designer. She always said she would create a one-of-a-kind dress for me, that she would watch me with her own eyes as I wore her love and blessings to marry the man I loved. The year our families decided Caleb and I would one day marry, he had come to me, his cheeks flushed red, and taken my hand. Ethan had immediately shoved him away. “Hey! The deal was for when you’re grown-ups, not now!” The adults had laughed. I had buried my face in my mother’s dress, shy and giddy, as she stroked my hair. Back then, my mother hadn’t been diagnosed with stomach cancer yet. Back then, there was no sister named Ava in our house. Everyone I loved was right there, with me. 4 My mother passed away when I was twelve. She’d spent her final months working on my dress, constantly guessing at how I would grow, re-stitching seams, and finally, in a concession to the future she wouldn’t see, adding adjustable closures to the waist and bust. It was the last gift she ever gave me. And I almost lost it. The same year my mother died, my father brought a little girl home. Her name was Ava. He said she was the daughter of an old army buddy who had died, a man who had made my father promise to care for her. “Ethan, Chloe,” he’d announced, “this is your new little sister. I expect you to make her feel welcome.” I tried. But it seemed Ava had other plans. I had never met a child like her. One second, she would be hissing at me, trying to snatch a doll from my hands, and the next, she would be running to Ethan and Caleb with tears streaming down her face. Is it human nature to automatically side with the one who seems weakest? I don’t know. All I know is that the two boys who had always been on my side slowly began to drift away. “Chloe, you can’t be like that! Ava’s lost her parents. Have some compassion!” “She’s right, Chloe. You need to share. You have a brother, and you have me. Ava has nobody.” I lost track of how many fights we had. They always ended the same way: with them telling me I wasn’t as kind, as gentle, as sweet as Ava. Eventually, I just stopped fighting. But my silence only made Ava bolder. She started going after the one thing that was sacred. She tried to take my mother’s dress. The day I found her dragging it down the stairs, its white silk hem collecting dust, something inside me snapped. For the first time, I hit her. When she came into my room later, a bright red handprint on her cheek and Ethan in tow, I was on my knees, gently cleaning the smudged hem with a damp cloth. “Sniffle… Ethan, please don’t be mad at Chloe,” Ava cried, hiding behind him. “It was my fault. I made her angry. I deserved it.” I’ll never forget the look in Ethan’s eyes. Disappointment. Confusion. And something else… disgust. “I never thought you could be so cruel, Chloe,” he said, his voice cold. “She’s never seen anything so beautiful before. She just wanted to look at it. How could you hurt her like that?” My hands were shaking with rage. I tried to explain, to defend myself, but our shouting brought my father into the room. He saw Ava’s tear-streaked face and immediately went to her side. “Ava, don’t cry,” he soothed. “Daddy will have someone make you an even more beautiful princess dress, okay?” After he had calmed her down, he turned and finally noticed me standing there. A flash of awkwardness crossed his face. “Ahem, well, both of you. Chloe will get one too, of course.” As I watched him and Ethan dabbing at Ava’s tears, a cold realization settled over me. I was the outsider in my own home. I didn’t ask for a new dress. I took my mother’s gown, locked it away in my closet, and understood, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that there was no one left in this world who truly loved me. “Chloe, we’re here. I’m coming in with you. I’m not letting that little snake get another shot at you.” 5 Maya’s eyes were as red as mine. I shook my head. “No.” Over the years, she had gotten into so much trouble defending me, falling for every one of Ava’s petty traps. Maya was all heart and no guile; Ava could set a snare at her feet and she’d walk right into it, every time. And Caleb, using his family’s influence, always sided with Ava, leaving Maya furious and in tears. I was leaving. I couldn’t let her burn any more bridges for my sake. “It’s okay, Maya. I just need to grab my passport and a few documents. I’ll be right back out.” I took a deep breath, gathered the heavy skirt of my dress, and walked into the house I grew up in. The first thing I saw was Ava. The same Ava who was supposedly “crying her eyes out” was lounging on the sofa, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, a smug smile on her face. “Well, look who it is. Back already?” she chirped. “I thought Caleb just left. That must have been the world’s fastest wedding.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, dear. What happened to your dress? Caleb can be so mean. Even if he doesn’t like you, he shouldn’t have poured wine all over you. Especially since that was your mother’s final creation.” Her performance was flawless, but as I stood there, silent and unmoved, the smile faded from her eyes. I felt no anger. Just a deep, hollow sadness. Even she remembered whose dress this was. But my own brother… he had forgotten. Before she could speak again, I cut her off. “It wasn’t Caleb.” She froze. I held her gaze. “It wasn’t him. It was Ethan.” The color drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. “You don’t have to fight anymore,” I said, my voice flat. “Ethan, Caleb… they’re all yours. I don’t want any of it.” I turned to go to my room, but she lunged, her fingers digging into my wrist. Something I said had hit a nerve. Her entire demeanor shifted, becoming manic and agitated. “‘Let me have them’?” she shrieked. “What do you mean, ‘let me’? You didn’t let me have anything! You lost! You couldn’t hold on to them!” Her face twisted into the familiar, venomous mask she only ever wore when we were alone. “I won! It was always me! I won!” she chanted, her eyes wild. “You’re insane, Ava.” I tried to pull away, her grip tightening painfully. “Let go of me.” “You lost, Chloe! You lost to me! Hahahaha!” She was completely unhinged. I finally shoved her away, not even that hard, just enough to break her grip. But she let out a piercing scream and threw herself backward, crashing into the tall curio cabinet against the wall. CRACK. The entire thing toppled over with a deafening crash. All the little treasures I had collected over the years—glass figures, painted boxes, delicate ornaments—shattered into a thousand pieces. I stared, stunned, at the glittering wreckage. My eyes fixed on a broken glass jar on the floor. I was so lost in the haze of it all that I didn’t see the figure rushing in from behind until a violent shove sent me stumbling forward. “Get away from her!” Caleb roared. He had come back. “I was actually coming back to apologize to you, and I find this? You can’t be left alone for five minutes without hurting her!” He had pushed me right into the pile of broken glass. A sharp, searing pain shot up from my ankle. 6 “Ah—” I gasped, the pain cutting through my shock. I tried to push myself up, but Caleb grabbed my shoulders, his grip like iron. “Why are you so cruel?” he raged, his face inches from mine. “You’ve been bullying her since the day she arrived! Always competing with her!” “For toys, for clothes, for a brother’s attention… you even had to take the person she loved!” “You already won, Chloe! You got everything you wanted! I agreed to marry you! Why can’t you just give her a break? Why can’t you cede an inch?!” Ava was on the floor in the only clear spot, a small patch of carpet, sobbing dramatically. Caleb shook me, his forehead vein throbbing, his voice cracking with a mixture of hatred and desperation. But I wasn’t looking at him. My gaze was fixed on the broken glass jar. It had split in half, revealing the contents scattered on the floor: dozens of small, folded pink stars. Paper stars. My breath hitched. Ignoring Caleb’s tirade, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle, I whispered, “It wasn’t me.” The pain was becoming overwhelming, a sharp counterpoint to the dull ache that had been building in my head all day. I could feel tears welling in my eyes, and I saw my own blurry reflection in Caleb’s amber irises. But I didn’t care. My hands, shaking, found the sleeves of his jacket and clenched them tight. Just like I had done ten years ago, I was trying to make him believe me. “Caleb, it wasn’t me. I didn’t hurt her,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “She grabbed me first. I didn’t even push her that hard. I didn’t.” For a second, I thought I saw his expression soften. His frantic breathing seemed to even out. He even started to raise a hand, as if to wipe away my tears. But then Ava spoke from the floor, her voice choked with sobs. “Caleb, please don’t yell at Chloe. She’s right… she didn’t push me hard. It was my fault. I’m just so clumsy, I lost my balance and fell.” She sniffled loudly. “But… I think I twisted my ankle. It really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?” Caleb hesitated. His eyes flickered between me and Ava, a silent war playing out on his face. In the end, he pulled his arm away from my grasp. “I’m taking Ava to the emergency room. We’ll talk when I get back.” He knelt down, scooping Ava into his arms. As he stood, he glanced back at me, his voice heavy with a weary sigh. “Your brother and my parents are handling the guests. They told everyone we had a fight and you said things you didn’t mean. Our wedding is… postponed.” He looked at me, a hint of pleading in his eyes. “I already agreed. We’ll have the wedding. Just stop fighting, okay? Wait here for me.” He kicked a shard of glass out of his path and walked past me, his shoe crushing one of the pink paper stars on the floor. In his arms, Ava shot me a look of pure, triumphant hatred. I felt nothing. The pain, the world, it all faded away. I sank to the floor, my movements slow and robotic, and picked up the star with the dirty footprint on it. I unfolded the tiny paper. Chloe don’t be scared. Your dad and Ethan like Ava more now, but I like you. I like you the most. Only you!! He had given it to me in class, two years after Ava had arrived. The other kids had teased us, guessing it was a love note. I’d opened it, read it, and burst into tears. Even now, after all this time, that childish promise felt more real, more precious, than any love poem. At fifteen, Caleb Vance had seen my fear and loneliness. With the fierce, clumsy sincerity of a teenage boy, he had tried to heal the wounds left by my mother’s death and my family’s betrayal. But years passed. And this is what we became. This.

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