1 My fiancée, Chelan, cut my brake lines just so my childhood friend, Noah Vance, could win the championship. While I lay in a coma, she cleaned out my medical fund and ran off with him. Just as I was about to lose all hope, my old college friend, Amelia, stepped in. She covered my bills and took care of me, nursing me back to health. I was on my way to my comeback race when another car slammed into us. My parents died on impact. I was dragged back to the ICU. The day I was discharged, I overheard Chelan’s father laying into her. “If you didn’t want Andrew to race, you could have just told him! Why did you have to kill his parents?” Chelan’s voice, once so beautiful to me, was now laced with venom. “I promised Noah that Andrew would never race again. I don’t break my promises. Besides, his parents ruined Noah’s family. It’s a life for a life.” But that wasn’t true. Noah’s parents had taken their own lives after their business failed. It had nothing to do with my parents. A single, bitter tear slid from the corner of my eye. Chelan could rest easy now. The doctors had told me my tendons were permanently damaged. I would never race again. And as for Chelan… I was done with her, too. … Chelan’s words hit me like a physical blow. The world tilted, and I staggered, grabbing the wall for support. Her cold voice continued from down the hall. “And as for Andrew… he’s the son of murderers. His parents destroyed Noah’s life, so it’s only fair that he pays the price, too.” My heart felt like it was being shredded. I couldn’t breathe. Her father was furious. “How can you be so cruel? Andrew is your husband!” For a fleeting moment, a shadow of pain crossed Chelan’s face, but she quickly masked it. “I know. But I gave Noah my word. I couldn’t let Andrew get back on that track. I’ve been by his side this whole time. That should count for something, right? Atonement?” Atonement? I pulled at the tight, numb corners of my mouth. How could she possibly atone for my parents’ deaths? I had thought the crash was a tragic accident. But it was all a part of a deliberate plan, orchestrated by the woman I shared a bed with. The same woman who had encouraged my return to racing, who had even filled out the registration forms for me. She had used my dream as a weapon to murder my family. And the lie about Noah’s parents… it was all a lie. They couldn’t handle the failure of their business and chose to end their lives. Chelan knew this. She had to. She had killed my parents. And I would make her pay. Overwhelmed with grief, I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me again. “Don’t worry, Dad. Andrew has always wanted a child. And I’m pregnant. Even if he finds out the truth, he’ll forgive me for the baby’s sake.” I froze, a storm of emotions churning inside me. For three years, I had begged her for a baby. She always had an excuse—first, she was too busy taking care of me. Then, as I recovered, she was too focused on her career. And now, she was pregnant. Her father’s face softened with relief. “A baby… that’s good. At least I’ll have something to offer his parents when I see them in the next life.” But as I looked at Chelan, a flicker of something unnatural crossed her face. Was it… guilt? Before I could be sure, her expression was smooth again. Her phone rang, a cheerful, upbeat tune that felt jarring in the sterile hospital hallway. A small, secretive smile touched her lips. “Dad, Andrew’s been gone a while. Can you go check on him?” she urged. He nodded and hurried back toward my room. As soon as he was out of sight, Chelan answered the call. “Noah, why are you calling now? What if Andrew hears?” Her voice was a hushed whisper. “You miss the baby? He’s not even born yet. You can’t let Andrew find out the baby is yours. We’ll both be ruined!” The leg I had been about to move hung suspended in mid-air. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The baby… it was Noah’s. I looked up, and the blissful, happy smile on Chelan’s face was like a dagger in my heart. She looked like a young girl in the first flush of love, sweet and shy. She had never, not once, smiled at me with such genuine joy. “I know, I know,” she cooed into the phone. “Of course, I’ll protect our baby. You don’t have to worry.” She hung up and started walking in my direction. I ducked back behind the door, my heart pounding, praying she hadn’t seen me. I waited until her footsteps faded down the long corridor before I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. She had been playing me all along. Well, two could play at that game. I spent the rest of the day wandering the city in a daze before finally heading home. I hadn’t even taken off my shoes when she accosted me. “Andrew, what is the meaning of this? Why did you just disappear?” she demanded. “My father is an old man, and he went all the way to the hospital to pick you up, and you just vanish!” I stared at her, my gaze cold and empty. Her tirade slowly petered out as she finally noticed the change in me. “Andrew?” she asked, a note of uncertainty in her voice. “Did you… overhear something at the hospital?” My nails dug into my palms. I was at my breaking point. Her father rushed over, positioning himself between us. “Andrew, let’s all just calm down and talk about this,” he said, his voice placating. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I had no proof yet. I couldn’t show my hand. “It’s nothing,” I said, my voice flat. “I finished packing and you weren’t there, so I left on my own.” The tension immediately drained from Chelan’s body. A bright, happy smile replaced her worried frown. “Andrew, I have wonderful news. I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.” Her joyful expression was another twist of the knife. A sarcastic smile curled my lips. “Is that so? Congratulations.” Her father looked at me, confused. “What kind of a response is that, Andrew? Aren’t you happy?” He seemed to come to a conclusion. “If you think this isn’t the right time, I can talk to her. We can… take care of it.” Before I could say a word, Chelan cut in, her voice sharp with panic. “No! We’re not getting rid of it.” Of course not. She wouldn’t get rid of Noah’s child. I couldn’t stand to look at her hypocritical face a second longer. I turned to leave. “Andrew, wait,” she said, grabbing my arm. “I know how much you’ve always wanted to see the OPU International Grand Prix. I got us tickets. I thought we could go together.” The OPU Grand Prix. The race where she had tried to kill me. The source of a pain so deep it still ached after all these years. I frowned, torn. A part of me, the part that still lived and breathed racing, wanted to go. But the rest of me… I pulled my arm away without a word and went to my room. I heard her father’s angry voice behind me. “The man clearly doesn’t appreciate it. Why do you even bother? You’re both as stubborn as mules. I’ll never understand either of you.” The next morning, Chelan burst into my room and tried to pull me out of bed. I instinctively recoiled from her touch. I couldn’t stand the thought of her hands on me. She froze, a bitter, hurt expression on her face. “Fine. If you don’t want to go, we won’t go. I won’t force you.” Her voice was small, defeated. “But we need to choose a burial plot for your parents. The funeral is in a few days. I thought… I thought they would like it if we chose it for them. Together.” My parents. Even in death, they had loved her like a daughter. And she was their murderer. Before I could protest, she was tugging at my sleeve, pulling me out the door. “We have to go now, or we’ll be late.” But she had lied. She drove me straight to the racetrack. “Chelan, are you insane? I told you I didn’t want to come!” Before I could finish, a triumphant voice called out from behind us. “Chelan! You said you’d come cheer me on, and you actually did!” Noah. He was wearing a racing helmet, but I could still see the mocking glint in his eyes. So this was what it was about. She was here to see her lover. “You disgust me,” I muttered, and turned to leave. But as I reached the exit, a group of men blocked my path. Before I could figure out what was happening, Noah was there. “Andrew,” he sneered. “You don’t actually think you’re still a racer, do you?” His voice dripped with contempt. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. Your tendons are shot. The closest you’ll ever get to a race car again is looking at one.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if you can’t handle a car… I bet you can’t handle your wife, either. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her for you. Maybe you can even hand us the condoms when we’re in bed.” My fist clenched, the veins in my arm standing out in sharp relief. He kept talking, but I didn’t hear him. I just kicked him, hard, in the stomach. He staggered back, gasping for air. “You… you hit me? Do you have any idea where you are?” At his signal, the men surrounding me surged forward. They pinned me to the ground, and fists like stones rained down on me. I fought back, but I was outnumbered. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Suddenly, they backed off. I looked up, confused, just in time to see Noah approaching with a large bucket. “You want to act tough, Andrew? Then die!” Before I could react, he dumped the contents of the bucket over my head. The stench of raw sewage filled my nostrils, and the men around me erupted in laughter, pointing and jeering at my humiliation. “What are you doing?” Chelan came running over, pushing her way through the crowd to stand in front of me. She glared at the men, her voice sharp. “If you touch him again, I’m calling the police!” Noah’s aggressive demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of wounded innocence. He took her hand, his voice soft and pleading. “Chelan, he hit me first. Ask them.” The other racers all nodded in agreement. Chelan’s eyes flickered with indecision as she looked down at me, covered in filth. She instinctively covered her nose, a look of disgust on her face. She quickly realized her mistake and dropped Noah’s hand, but the damage was done. “Andrew,” she said, her voice strained. “You were in the wrong here. You should apologize to Noah.” I spat out a mouthful of blood and laughed. “He cuckolded me and poured shit on my head, and you want me to apologize? In your dreams.” The color drained from her face. “You’re mistaken,” she stammered. “It’s not what you think…” I cut her off, struggling to my feet. I walked away, alone, leaving the roar of the engines and the life I had once loved behind me. It was late when Chelan finally came home. Noah was with her. “Andrew, what is wrong with you?” she snapped, not even bothering with a greeting. “I try to do something nice for you, to help you fulfill a dream, and you just abandon me there. It’s a good thing Noah was there to give me a ride home.” They exchanged a look, a silent, intimate communication that made my stomach turn. I wiped the dried blood from the corner of my mouth and gave them a knowing smile. Just an hour ago, the private investigator I’d hired had called. He had everything. After my parents’ funeral, their time was up. At the funeral, a murmur went through the crowd of mourners. “Who is that? Is he trying to cause a scene?” “You don’t wear that to a funeral. It’s so disrespectful.” I looked up. It was Noah, dressed in a bright, flamboyant red suit. I lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar. “What are you doing here? Get out!” Chelan rushed over, pulling me off him. After checking to make sure he was okay, she turned on me. “What is your problem, Andrew? I invited him. Your parents did a terrible thing. They owe him an apology.” Her words were like a punch to the gut. I was speechless. Noah seized the opportunity. “For those of you who don’t know,” he announced to the crowd, “my parents were driven to their deaths by Andrew’s parents. They got what they deserved.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. My parents were kind, gentle people. They would never hurt anyone. I tried to speak, to defend them, but Chelan clamped a hand over my mouth, silencing me. Seeing the disbelief on the faces of the guests, Noah produced a folded piece of paper. “This is the suicide note my mother left. It says right here that Andrew’s parents were responsible for her death.” As the crowd began to murmur, their expressions shifting from shock to suspicion, I lunged for the note. But Chelan grabbed the back of my shirt, and in the struggle, she lost her footing and fell hard. She clutched her stomach, a pained cry escaping her lips. “The baby… my baby…” Blood was spreading across the fabric of her dress. I remembered what I had overheard the night before: “The baby stopped developing. I’ll take the pills tomorrow. At the funeral, I’ll pretend Andrew pushed me. We can blame the miscarriage on him and sue him for everything he has.” I had been so careful all day, trying to avoid this exact scenario. But she had still found a way to frame me. Her father slapped me across the face, his eyes blazing with fury. “You monster! What are you standing there for? Call an ambulance!” But I didn’t move. She had been plotting against me from the beginning. Now, it was my turn. I didn’t visit her in the hospital. She posted daily updates on social media, complaining about my heartlessness and praising Noah for his devoted care. Her friends all urged her to divorce me, but she would always reply with some saccharine comment about how she couldn’t bear to leave me. The day she was discharged, Noah brought her home. “Andrew,” she said, stepping in front of him as if to protect him from me. “You killed our child. Are you going to hurt Noah now, too? You heartless bastard. Why didn’t you die with your parents?” At the mention of my parents, my eyes narrowed. It was fine. She would be joining them soon enough. “If Noah is so wonderful, then you should be with him,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. She fell silent, a look of confusion on her face. Before she could recover, I tossed a folder onto the table in front of her. “Sign it. A divorce is the best thing for both of us.” Noah’s face lit up. “Chelan, once you’re free, we can get married right away!” That was all the convincing she needed. She grabbed a pen and signed the papers without a second thought. Just as they were celebrating their happily ever after, the sound of police sirens filled the air. I smiled. Their reckoning had arrived.

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I was having dinner with my best friend, Alex, who had just gotten back to the country, when I noticed the small hair tie around his wrist. I glanced at the matching one on my own wrist and gave him a knowing nudge. “So when did this happen? Keeping secrets from me now?” Alex just smiled and didn’t say a word, so I dropped it. We were halfway through our meal when Sophia, my childhood sweetheart and soon-to-be fiancée, texted to ask where I was. She was out shopping and hungry. I sent her the address without a second thought. Later, as Sophia leaned over to grab a piece of food, her long hair fell into her plate. I was about to reach over and tie it back for her, but Alex was faster. He deftly gathered her hair and secured it with the tie from his wrist. Noticing my stare, he quickly explained, “Force of habit from having dinner with my girlfriend so much. Don’t mind me.” I said nothing. That night, when we got home, I told Sophia, “Let’s call off the engagement.” She rubbed her temples in irritation. “Just because he tied my hair?” 1. “A man with a hair tie on his wrist is taken,” I said, looking at the pink band on my own arm. The words felt like a bitter joke. I looked up at her. “It’s not because he tied your hair.” “It’s because I suddenly realized that you and I don’t even have that ‘force of habit’.” Sophia stared at me, her brow furrowed. “Tim, stop messing around,” she warned. “This merger was arranged by our grandfathers. You can’t just call it off.” “Alex tying your hair today looked more natural than anything I’ve ever done for you.” Her face darkened. “He’s your best friend. You know what he’s like. He’s a player; he’s smooth with everyone. He’s not like that with me because there’s something between us; he’s like that with all women. Can you please be a little more mature and not blow this out of proportion?” The air in the room grew thick with tension. I loosened my tie. “I know exactly how many girlfriends Alex has had. But I also know he would never cross a line like that with someone else’s partner. Do you think I’m blind?” Sophia’s face flushed a deep red, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “That’s not fair, Tim! He just saw my hair was in my face and helped out. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Only someone with a dirty mind would see it that way.” The accusation stunned me. After a moment, I gave a humorless laugh. “Is that really how you see me?” She looked away, a flicker of guilt in her eyes, and quickly changed the subject. “We’re supposed to be talking about the merger. Our families arranged this for the good of the companies. Don’t be so emotional.” “In our world, plenty of couples have their own lives after getting married. It’s a business alliance. Feelings don’t have to be part of the deal.” Her magnanimity made me feel small and petty, like I was the one making unreasonable demands. Suddenly, the whole conversation felt pointless. I had been in love with Sophia for over a decade. This marriage may have been arranged, but it couldn’t have happened without our consent. I thought her agreeing meant she had some feelings for me, too. Now I saw I had just been fooling myself. Sophia rubbed her forehead. “My birthday is the day after tomorrow. Both our families are getting together for dinner. If you’re in a bad mood, you don’t have to come into the office for the next couple of days. Just rest at home.” I didn’t answer. The next morning, I was woken by my phone ringing. I stared at her name on the screen for a long moment before finally answering. “Tim, where are you?” Her voice was its usual sweet, playful tone, as if our fight had never happened. “I left an urgent file in the study at home. I need it for a client meeting soon. Can you bring it to me?” My fingers tightened around the phone. I didn’t speak. She sighed softly, her voice softening. “I can’t get away from the office, and my driver called in sick. You’re the only person I can ask.” The silence stretched between us until I heard the faint rustle of papers on her end. Finally, I heard my own dry voice say, “Address.” Half an hour later, I arrived at her office. The door was slightly ajar. I was about to knock when I heard Alex’s voice from inside. 2. “Your hair’s a mess again,” he said, his tone light and teasing, far more intimate than it had been at dinner. “I thought you said it was easier to work with it tied up.” “You’re the one who messed it up when you snatched that file from me,” Sophia retorted playfully. I froze, my hand hovering in the air. Through the crack in the door, I could see Sophia sitting at her desk and Alex standing behind her. He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture impossibly intimate and natural. Then, as if he’d just noticed me, his voice rose in perfectly feigned surprise. “Tim? What are you doing here?” He pulled the door open, a look of pure innocence on his face. Sophia looked up, saw the file in my hand, and immediately stood. “You brought it? Quick, give it to me.” I didn’t move. My eyes were fixed on the stray hairs behind her ear. They were held in place by a small, silver clip. It wasn’t her style. “I was just helping Sophia organize some documents. Her hair kept getting in the way,” Alex explained, his tone casual, but his eyes held a glint of challenge. Sophia took the file from my hand. “Good thing you got here when you did. This would have been a disaster.” I looked at her, my voice devoid of emotion. “Well, I hope…” I paused, my gaze sweeping over her disheveled blouse, “…that your appearance won’t be a disaster for your next meeting.” Sophia noticed my stare and nervously smoothed her clothes. “I’ve just been so swamped with work.” It was a clumsy, obvious lie. Alex leaned against the desk, his arms crossed. “Don’t worry, Tim. Sophia is a professional. She never lets personal matters get in the way of business.” His words were a clear, smug insinuation. “The file’s here. I’m leaving,” I said flatly. As I turned, I heard Sophia say something under her breath, probably asking me to wait, but I didn’t look back. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from Alex. Tim, don’t take it the wrong way. There’s nothing going on between me and Sophia. After I left her office, my phone didn’t stop buzzing. The messages from Sophia started as angry demands, then shifted to soft, probing questions. I ignored them all. Around eleven that night, my phone began to vibrate violently. Sophia’s name flashed on the screen, the shrill ringtone cutting through the silence of my apartment. I stared at it until the last possible second before swiping to answer. “Tim…” Her voice was thick and slurred with alcohol. “Why didn’t you come find me…?” The background was loud—clinking glasses, muffled music, and laughter. “Where are you?” I asked, my brow furrowed. “At… at a bar… you have to come… they’re all picking on me…” Her words were jumbled, laced with the same coy flirtatiousness she’d used on the phone that morning. It was a world away from the cool, powerful woman in the office. I pinched the bridge of my nose, but I grabbed my car keys anyway. I spotted her the moment I walked in, slumped in a corner booth. Empty glasses littered the table in front of her. She was leaning over, mumbling something to the person next to her. And the person next to her was Alex. I stopped in my tracks. Whatever small, pathetic flicker of concern I’d felt when she called died instantly. I was about to turn and leave when her voice rose above the din, carrying clearly to where I stood. “…you guys have no idea how boring Tim is…” Her drunken complaint was like a physical blow. “Being with him is a total drag. All he ever talks about is work, family, responsibility… there’s no romance, no fun…” Someone at the table laughed. “What about Alex? He just got back. I bet he’s more romantic than Tim.” 3. At the mention of Alex, a giddy, lovesick quality entered her voice. “Oh, definitely! Alex is different…” “He knows what kind of flowers I like, he knows which restaurants have the best desserts, he even knows whether I’m tired or just annoyed by the way I frown…” She paused, took another drink, and her words became even more slurred, and even more honest. “Honestly, if it weren’t for our grandfathers insisting on this merger, if it weren’t for the business… I would have told him the truth a long time ago…” The table erupted in teasing. “Oh? Told him what? That you’re ready to make it official with Alex?” “Shhh…” Sophia slurred, holding a finger to her lips. “Be quiet… don’t talk nonsense…” “Even if I… make it official… we have to get married first…” “Besides, Tim… he doesn’t know anything. He trusts us so much…” Alex’s lazy, indulgent laugh cut in. “Alright, you’re drunk. Stop talking nonsense.” He was technically telling her to stop, but there was no real force behind it. He was enjoying it, basking in their secret flirtation. I stood there, feeling the blood turn to ice in my veins. The hair tie. Sophia had once told me it was a way of “staking a claim,” of telling the world, “This man is taken.” But she had never been staking a claim on me. She had been using that cheap symbol to trap me, the trusting fool who “didn’t know anything,” so she could carry on her affair and laugh behind my back about how boring and predictable I was. I finally understood why we had no “force of habit.” It wasn’t a lack of familiarity. It was a lack of heart. Her heart had never been with me. The merger, the family responsibilities—they were all just excuses. A smokescreen to hide the fact that she was happy to accept my love but unwilling to offer any of her own in return. I turned to leave, and crashed right into a server. The tray went flying, and a sticky concoction of cocktails drenched my shirt. “Sir! Are you okay? I am so sorry, I’ll get that cleaned up for you right away!” I was about to wave him off when I heard Sophia’s voice. “Tim…? What are you doing here?” For a second, I thought she must be hallucinating from the alcohol. “Weren’t you the one who invited me here to watch this little show?” The booze hadn’t worn off. Her face was flushed as she mumbled, “I… I invited you? Did I… I…” Before she could finish, she retched, vomiting all over the table. Alex jumped back, a look of pure disgust on his face. She reached for him, trying to steady herself, but he deftly sidestepped her. “Sophia, I’m… I’m gonna go get cleaned up. I’ll be right back to take care of you.” He practically ran from the booth, his hand over his nose. With nothing to hold onto, Sophia began to crumple to the floor. On pure instinct, I lunged forward and caught her. “Careful!” She sagged against me, still heaving, the acrid smell of alcohol and bile washing over me. I grimaced but held her steady, one hand on her back, patting it gently. I’ve always hated the smell of vomit, but Sophia loved to drink. Over the years, I had gotten used to it. The rest of the table had fallen silent, staring at us. The same friends who had been teasing her moments before now looked away, embarrassed. I ignored them and half-carried her out of the bar. 4. The cool night air seemed to sober her up a little. She leaned against my shoulder, whimpering, “Tim… I feel sick…” That small, dependent sound would have melted my heart before. Now, it just left me cold. I put her in the passenger seat, buckled her in, and drove to her apartment. Getting her inside was a struggle. She was a dead weight, her clothes were a mess, and her hair was matted to her face. I found a wet towel and awkwardly began to clean her up. Her eyes fluttered open, and she watched me for a moment before her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Tim… don’t be mad at me…” I froze, her words from the bar echoing in my head. Boring. No fun. If it weren’t for the merger… My chest tightened, a dull ache spreading through it. It was the middle of the night by the time I finally got her settled. The apartment reeked of alcohol. I opened a window and sat in the dark, unable to sleep. The next day was Sophia’s birthday party, held at my family’s estate. By the time I arrived, both our families were already there, chatting amiably in the living room. Sophia looked radiant, with no trace of the previous night’s drunken mess. She was laughing with her mother, but her eyes flickered toward me when I walked in. She didn’t greet me. I had just sat down when the doorbell rang. The butler opened it to reveal Alex, holding a beautifully wrapped gift. “Sophia, happy birthday,” he said with a charming smile. Sophia’s parents’ expressions stiffened. My own grandfather frowned. Alex was an outsider. His presence at an intimate family gathering was a major breach of etiquette. But before anyone could say anything, Sophia had already taken the gift. “Thank you, Alex! I’m so glad you could make it.” Her tone was warm and familiar, completely ignoring the tense atmosphere in the room.

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My sister and I were fated to marry twin wolves. My sister, Isolde, married Kael, the black wolf. He was the pack’s heir—powerful, sculpted from raw strength, but born without a shred of empathy. His temper was a storm, and after their wedding, he unleashed it on her. I was given to Rhys, the white wolf. He was frail, gentle, and kind, and with a brilliant mind, he eventually clawed his way to the position of pack leader. Isolde, consumed by jealousy, poisoned me. Then I opened my eyes. We were back, standing on the precipice of our past, on the very day we were to choose our husbands. This time, Isolde’s hand shot out, desperately grabbing Rhys. I smiled. Did she truly believe the white wolf was the better man? 1 The Hale Matriarch led Kael and Rhys, the twin wolves, before my sister and me. “These are my sons,” she announced, her voice as unyielding as ancient stone. “Each of you will choose one.” My head snapped up, my heart hammering against my ribs. Kael. The firstborn, the future Alpha, his body a monument to power. Rhys. His younger brother, his heart a fragile thing since birth, kept alive by a cocktail of pills. I blinked, again and again, confirming the impossible. They were real, standing before me. This wasn’t a dream. I was reborn. Thrown back to the day Isolde and I chose our mates. Without a moment’s hesitation, Isolde rushed forward and took Rhys’s hand, her eyes swimming with a tenderness that was utterly fake. “Rhys, my love,” she breathed. “From this day on, I am your wife.” As she spoke, she shot a triumphant glare in my direction. And in that single, venomous look, I knew. She was reborn, too. Why else would she choose Rhys? Our families, the Vaughn and Hale corporations, had been allies for generations. This union was meant to seal that bond. In our first life, Isolde had heard Kael was the heir, strong and virile. She craved the power of being the Luna, the Alpha’s mate, and chose him without a second thought. What she didn’t know was that Kael was a creature of pure instinct, incapable of love, ruled only by a vicious, unpredictable rage. Her every attempt to please him had been met with brutal beatings. Meanwhile, Rhys, the husband I had been left with, was the epitome of kindness. He made me the center of his universe, showing me off at every important event, treating me like a treasure. Then, with his sharp intellect, he orchestrated Kael’s downfall and seized the title of Alpha for himself. Suddenly, I was the Luna, wielding influence over the entire pack. Isolde’s jealousy became a poison, and not just metaphorically. She seeped a colorless, odorless gas into my room as I slept. I will never forget the look in her eyes as my life faded. Cold. Vicious. “Did you really think being the Luna made you untouchable, Elara?” she’d hissed. “I’m going to enjoy watching you die.” With my last ounce of strength, I’d plunged the dagger I always carried into her heart, taking her down with me. I never imagined fate would be cruel enough to send us back together. But as I watched her cling to Rhys, a slow, genuine smile spread across my face. My new life was about to begin. A life free from the chains of the past. 2 Our weddings were a joint affair. Throughout the ceremony, Rhys doted on Isolde, adjusting the train of her gown, smoothing a stray lock of her hair. Kael, on the other hand, stood beside me like a storm cloud carved from granite, his expression dark, his eyes fixed on some distant point, clearly wishing the whole ordeal was over. Seeing me so obviously ignored, Isolde’s smirk widened. She pulled Rhys over, their linked hands a deliberate spectacle. “Little sister,” she purred, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Life in the Hale pack can be… difficult, if you can’t even keep your own husband on a leash.” I glanced at Rhys. He gazed at Isolde with a look of profound devotion. My eyes, however, were drawn to his thumb, to the silver signet ring he wore. A jolt of pure terror shot through me. I stumbled back a step, my breath catching in my throat. Forcing the tremor from my hands, I managed a tight smile. “You don’t need to worry about me, sister. I can handle myself.” I turned and walked away, my body still shaking with the memory of a pain that felt all too real. Isolde thought she’d won the grand prize. She had no idea. Compared to the smiling viper she now clung to, I would choose Kael’s cold fury a thousand times over. And this time, she had granted my wish. That night, I slipped into a silken red robe and found Kael on the bed, his eyes closed in meditation. A powerful black tail twitched restlessly beside him. A wolf’s tail is their most vulnerable point. They only allow those they trust implicitly to touch it. I decided to take a chance. I reached out, my fingers barely grazing the coarse fur before he moved like lightning, shoving me so hard I sprawled onto the floor. “What do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, his voice a low growl, his brows furrowed in rage. “Kael,” I whispered, feigning a shy bride’s demeanor. “It’s our wedding night.” Inside, I was cursing him. I’m practically throwing myself at you, and you’re still giving me the cold shoulder? Unbelievable. “So what?” His large hand clamped around my throat, lifting me slightly. His amber eyes burned into mine. “Let me make one thing clear. I have zero interest in… that. If you want to stay alive in this house, you’ll learn to stay out of my way.” The pressure on my windpipe was immense, my vision starting to swim in black spots. I’d heard the stories. Even the dogs at the gate knew their master had a notoriously short fuse and a penchant for violence. In our last life, the only thing that had saved Isolde from being torn to shreds was the fact that she was, in name, his wife. I swallowed hard, fear coiling in my gut. I couldn’t give up. Not now. I’d suffered enough for one lifetime. “Okay… okay,” I gasped. “I won’t… I won’t bother you.” He released me, dropping me unceremoniously to the floor. I coughed, desperately dragging air into my lungs. Seeing the irritation flash in his eyes, I scrambled into the bathroom to finish my coughing fit in private. 3 It didn’t take long to confirm my suspicions: Kael was a classic alpha male with a heavy dose of misogyny. In his world, women were little more than burdens. As his new, unwelcome wife, my only strategy was to not provoke the beast. In the last life, Isolde’s desperate attempts to seduce him had earned her nothing but broken bones and black eyes. She’d been thrown out of their room on their wedding night, a humiliation witnessed by the entire pack. Determined to avoid her fate, I spent the night curled up on the cold bathroom tiles. I was jolted awake by a cascade of icy water. Kael stood in the doorway, looming over me like a titan. “I need to use the bathroom.” “Right, sorry, I’ll get out of your way,” I stammered, scrambling to my feet without even wiping the water from my face. He brushed past me without a second glance. When he emerged, groomed and dressed, he headed straight for the door. I darted forward, my hand closing around his wrist. “Kael, my mother invited us for dinner tonight. She expects you to come with me.” His brow instantly creased into a deep scowl. “I’m buried in work. Can’t you go alone?” Acting on instinct, I reached up and gently smoothed the lines between his eyebrows with my thumb. “Don’t frown. It ruins your handsome face.” It was a habit I’d developed with Rhys in our past life. I’d always told him that worrying brought bad luck. “It’s fine if I go alone, really,” I said, dropping my hand. “But, you know, where I’m from, if a new husband doesn’t accompany his wife to her family home the day after the wedding… people start whispering. They call her a widow before she’s even truly a wife.” “What century is this? Who still believes in that nonsense?” He pushed my hand away, but I noticed he didn’t frown again. “I know, it’s silly,” I said with a sigh, turning as if to leave. “But it’s just how things are. Don’t worry about it. I can handle a few whispers.” I started walking toward the door, counting down in my head. Three… two… “Wait.” I stopped, a secret smile playing on my lips. “I’ll go with you tonight,” he grumbled, grabbing his jacket and storming out. The moment the door clicked shut, my smile broke free. My gamble had paid off. My past life wasn’t a total waste. I’d devoured psychology books, trying to understand Rhys’s madness. I learned that with men like Kael—volatile and proud—you couldn’t fight them head-on. You had to flow with their current, subtly guiding them with a touch of moral pressure. A little light emotional blackmail. Isolde had thought the path to his heart was through his bed. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Her advances only fueled his disgust. Patience is a virtue. This time, I was determined to rewrite my destiny. I would not end up a tragedy. 4 That evening, after carefully applying my makeup, I went to Kael’s office to meet him. As I crossed the garden, I ran into Isolde and Rhys. They were a picture of marital bliss, fingers intertwined, leaning into each other as if they were the only two people in the world. “Sister,” Isolde called out, her eyes gleaming with malicious glee. “Going to visit mother? Didn’t Kael come with you?” “He’s waiting for me at the office,” I replied smoothly. At my words, a flicker of raw hatred crossed Rhys’s face. He had always been consumed by jealousy over Kael’s strength and status, a stark contrast to his own physical frailty that kept him confined to the estate. Jealousy makes monsters of men. It was jealousy that drove Isolde to murder me. It was jealousy that drove Rhys to murder his own brother. I offered them a polite nod and continued on my way. As I walked, a strange premonition made me glance back. Rhys was watching me. His eyes, sharp and possessive, locked onto mine. A shiver of dread traced its way down my spine. I quickly turned away, the ghosts of the past life chilling me to the bone. 5 The family dinner was a grand affair, teeming with relatives. When Kael and I arrived last, a wave of stunned silence rippled through the room. No one had expected me to successfully wrangle the infamous Kael Hale. I stayed close behind him, a silent, demure wife, terrified that one wrong word would send him storming out and ruin everything. Perhaps my quietness pleased him, because he remained surprisingly civil. In the eyes of the world, we were a power couple. Isolde and Rhys were holding court on the sofa. Just as I looked over, they engaged in a sickeningly sweet display, feeding each other pieces of fruit, mouth to mouth. I pretended not to see. Let her play the part of the doting wife. She was a clown in a tragedy of her own making, and she didn’t even know it. As long as I kept Kael by my side, my life would eclipse hers in every way. As the pack’s heir, Kael was the center of attention. One by one, our relatives came to toast him. Though his temper was legendary, he navigated the social niceties with a practiced, if strained, politeness. I saw the envy burning in Isolde’s eyes. Desperate to steal the spotlight, she began to sing Rhys’s praises. “Rhys is just so wonderful to me,” she gushed to the table. “He’s so attentive. He cooks for me every day, and on our very first night, he told me he wants me to bear him a litter of strong wolf pups.” Her eyes then found mine across the table. “I wonder, little sister, did you and Kael even consummate your marriage?” The brazenness of her question, in front of our entire family, left me speechless. I felt my hand clench in my lap. Just as I was about to respond, Kael’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “As the Luna of the second-in-command, have you no shame, saying such things in public?” he snarled, his gaze locking onto Rhys. “Control your wife!” 6 Rhys’s eyes flashed with defiance, but he bowed his head to his older brother’s authority. “I understand, brother,” he muttered, before grabbing Isolde’s arm and pulling her away from the table. The festive dinner had soured completely. Kael rose and left without another word. I scrambled to follow, a triumphant little smile playing on my lips. As I left, I overheard the whispers—how protective Kael was, how much he must care for me to defend my honor like that. They were wrong, of course. Kael didn’t care about me. He cared about the Hale family’s reputation. As the heir, his brother’s wife spewing such vulgarities was an embarrassment he had to squash. Naturally, Kael didn’t offer me a ride home. To him, I was an obligation, not a partner. I took a cab. When I arrived, I found Isolde in the living room, dabbing ointment onto her arm. It was covered in tiny, cruel-looking puncture wounds. In my last life, my entire body had been a canvas of those same marks. She saw me and quickly pulled down her sleeve. Even though her face was pale with pain, she lifted her chin in that familiar, arrogant way. “Rhys just made passionate love to me,” she declared, her voice brittle. “He said he would love me forever.” She was so utterly, pathetically foolish. Still trying to satisfy her pathetic need to win, even when she was bleeding. No one knew Rhys better than I did. In the beginning of our past life together, he had been kind. But it didn’t last. He became a demon in the night, his kindness a mask for his cruelty. Tonight, Isolde’s loose tongue had earned him a public scolding from Kael. His pride would be stinging. And he would make her pay for it. 7 Kael didn’t return until the early hours of the morning. I had tactfully made my bed on the small sofa in the corner of the room. He walked past without a glance, showered, and went straight to bed. Men like Kael aren’t heartless. The psychology books I’d read described his condition perfectly. He had likely suffered a severe trauma that fractured his ability to trust, forcing him to build a fortress of rage around a deeply vulnerable core. In my last life, I’d started reading those books to understand how to survive Rhys’s madness. I was killed before I could finish, but fortunately, the sections I remembered best were all about personalities like Kael’s. I tiptoed to the kitchen and prepared a warm, fragrant broth. I carried it back to the room and offered it to him. “Kael,” I said softly. “You must be exhausted. Drink this. It will help you recover.” It wasn’t just broth. It was laced with calming herbs—and something more. A subtle concoction I’d learned about from the old medical texts, designed to soothe his frayed nerves and, perhaps, open his heart to me. These were remedies I’d discovered in my past life while trying to heal the constant wounds on my own body. He didn’t acknowledge my offering. Instead, his form shifted and shimmered, and a great black wolf lay on the bed, eyes closed, deep in some lupine meditation. Fine. Time for more emotional manipulation. “I simmered this broth for hours,” I said with a theatrical sigh. “A few of the servants asked for some, but I saved it all for you. Oh well. If you don’t want it, I guess I’ll just have to give it to someone else.” No reaction. I gritted my teeth. “It’s fine, Kael. I don’t mind. It’s just a little gossip about the pack’s new Luna being ignored by her husband. I suppose I can handle it.” I deliberately stressed the words “new Luna.” It worked. His eyes snapped open. His form solidified back into that of a man. He snatched the bowl from my hands and downed the contents in one go. I beamed, feeling bold enough to reach out and stroke his tail. “Kael… could I… could I sleep with you tonight? Just to hold you?” “No,” he snapped, his tail lashing out and swatting my hand away. I didn’t push it. I scurried back to my sofa, content with my small victory. The next morning, I had another bowl of broth waiting for him. Perhaps wanting to avoid another one of my speeches, he drank it without complaint. A few more days of this medicated brew, and his violent temper should begin to soften. Thinking of the man he was in the last life—a slave to his own uncontrollable rage—I felt a pang of pity. He was a prisoner in his own mind. Now that I was his wife, I would do whatever it took to heal him. Of course, it was for my own selfish reasons, too. I just wanted a peaceful life, and he was my shield. But the broth was just the first step. It was time to initiate phase two. 8 After seeing Kael off to work, I turned and saw Rhys lurking in the shadows of the garden, his eyes burning with resentment as he watched Kael’s car disappear. He and Isolde were two of a kind, consumed by an envy that twisted them into monsters. He was just better at hiding it. I raised my voice, calling to a nearby servant. “I’m heading to the back hills to gather some herbs for the Alpha’s restorative broth! I’ll go on ahead; bring the gathering tools and meet me there in a little while.” I made sure my voice was loud enough for Rhys to overhear. Then, I set off. I was digging up roots—calming, nourishing herbs—when I heard the snap of a twig behind me. I looked up to see Rhys advancing on me, a leather whip coiled in his hand. An involuntary tremor ran through me, but I forced myself to stand my ground. “Rhys. What are you doing here?” He let out a low, chilling chuckle. “What do you think I’m doing… sister-in-law?” His predatory smile mirrored the one he wore in my nightmares, a perfect overlap with the monster from my past life. A cold sweat broke out on my skin, but I held his gaze. “I am your brother’s wife. Don’t you dare.” “I hear Kael has become quite protective of you,” he sneered, closing the distance between us. “So, I think I’ll just have to ruin you for him.” He moved with a speed that belied his frail appearance, pinning my arms and forcing me to the ground. Tears of terror and rage streamed from my eyes. “Get off me! If Kael finds out about this, he’ll kill you!” The whip cracked, and a searing line of fire exploded across my back. “Bitch,” he hissed. “I am the Alpha’s brother. Everyone will believe you seduced me!” Pain made me reckless. I spat at him, my voice shaking but laced with venom. “You’re nothing but a pathetic invalid, Rhys! You’ll never be the man Kael is. I would never want you!” His face contorted with fury, his eyes turning blood-red. The whip fell again, and again. “Don’t you ever say that! I’ll beat you to death!” I screamed, my cries swallowed by the dense woods. Just as his hands reached for the collar of my dress, he was sent flying by a brutal, silent force. I scrambled back, clutching my torn clothes, and looked up into the furious, burning eyes of Kael. I allowed myself a small, hidden smile. Phase two was complete.

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On our wedding day, en route to the hotel, my fiancé Bryan Croft, a crisis negotiator, slammed the limo’s brakes for a woman about to jump off a bridge. I grabbed his arm. “It’s our wedding day. You are not going.” He gave me a placating smile. “A life is on the line. I can’t just stand by.” He was out of the car before finishing. My face turned to ice. “If you save her, we are canceling the wedding.” He stared in disbelief. “Elara, you’re the kindest person I know. How can you say something so cruel?” My gaze drifted to the woman’s slightly swollen belly. My voice was unwavering. “Save her, or marry me. You can’t have both.” 1 The sudden stop of the lead limo caused a chain reaction, and the entire wedding procession ground to a halt behind us. Family and friends began to spill out of the cars, confused. “What’s going on? Why have we stopped?” Bryan’s expression darkened. “That woman on the railing… I think she’s going to jump.” He gestured vaguely toward the bridge. “I want to help, but Elara won’t let me. She’s threatening to call off the wedding.” A collective gasp went through the small crowd. All eyes followed his gesture. The woman on the railing had noticed the commotion. She turned, her eyes red-rimmed with tears, and her hand instinctively went to her stomach. My maid of honor, Krista, tried to smooth things over. “Bryan, maybe you should just get back in the car with Elara. Someone else can help her.” My best friend since childhood pulled out her phone, scowling. “Seriously, this isn’t that complicated. You see something like this, you call 911.” She started dialing as she walked toward the bridge. She’d only taken two steps when the woman in white scrambled to her feet, her voice a panicked shriek. “Don’t call the police! And don’t come any closer! One more step and I’ll jump!” The wind coming off the river was strong, whipping her dress around her legs. Standing, she looked fragile, her whole body trembling against the force of the gusts. The sight seemed to flip a switch in Bryan. He shot me a look of pure exasperation and strode forward, grabbing Krista’s arm. His voice was sharp, professional. “Don’t go any further. You’ll agitate her.” I lifted the heavy skirt of my wedding gown and stepped out of the limo, walking deliberately until I stood directly in his path. “So you’ve made your choice, then? You’re going to save her.” Bryan looked down at me, his patience clearly wearing thin. Still, he took my hand, his voice a low plea. “Elara, please, just try to understand. This is what I do. I’m a negotiator. How can I see this and just walk away? Is our wedding really more important than a human life?” He glanced back at the woman on the railing as he said it. His words seemed to sway our guests. “Elara, honey, he has a point. It won’t take long.” “That’s right, dear. To save a life is a great blessing.” “Just let him talk to the poor girl. Look, I think she’s pregnant. She must be in a terrible state.” As they all murmured their support for him, my eyes never left his. When they fell silent, I spoke, my voice dangerously quiet. “Bryan. Answer my question.” His jaw tightened. For a moment, he seemed to be wrestling with himself. Then, he let go of my hand and stepped past me. He stopped a few feet away, his expression softening as he turned his focus entirely to the woman on the bridge. “We won’t come any closer,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “Just take a breath. Don’t panic.” The woman stared at him, her eyes wide. As his words washed over her, a fresh wave of tears broke free and streamed down her cheeks. “Stay away from me! All of you…” It was the same demand, but her voice had lost its edge, cracking with a sorrow that sounded almost like a plea. Bryan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He took a small, careful step forward. “Okay, we’ll stay back,” he cooed. “Just calm down… calm down…” The woman’s frantic energy did seem to recede, but her tears fell faster. Seeing this, I reached into my clutch and pulled out my phone. “Hi, Mom. Are you at the hotel yet? Good. I need you to tell the guests the wedding is off.” 2 A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers. Until that moment, they had probably all thought my threat was just an empty, emotional outburst from a stressed-out bride. My actually making the call proved them wrong. Bryan, who had been laser-focused on the woman, froze. He whipped his head around to look at me. “Elara?” I held the phone in one hand and the hem of my dress in the other, my face an unreadable mask. “What is it?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Do you have to be so unreasonable?” I took a step back. “If this is unreasonable to you, then so be it. But it’s done. I’ve already told my parents to cancel.” I offered him a thin, humorless smile. “You’re free now, Bryan. You can go be the hero.” Just then, the woman on the railing wiped her eyes. Her face was ashen, her voice a raw, broken whisper. “I’m sorry… It’s all my fault that you’re fighting.” She looked at me, her eyes begging. “Please, miss, don’t fight with your husband. You should go. Go get married. They say you should never come between a man and his wife… If I ruined your wedding, I… I couldn’t live with myself…” Her voice broke, and the tears started anew, like pearls spilling from a broken string. She looked down, gently stroking her swollen belly. “My life is worthless anyway. No one’s ever cared about me.” At that, Bryan’s brow furrowed in concern. He edged another cautious step closer. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice softening into the gentle, persuasive tone of his profession. “Someone in this world loves you. You can’t give up on yourself.” His voice grew even more tender. “You can’t be this pessimistic. You can’t just throw your life away.” Bystanders who had gathered began to chime in. “Yeah, kid, you’re too young for this. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” Meanwhile, our family and friends were whispering amongst themselves. “I don’t know who’s right or wrong here.” “A wedding is once in a lifetime, but I think Bryan’s doing the right thing.” “I agree. Elara is being a little too selfish right now.” Bryan let out a heavy sigh. “Everyone, please, just be quiet for a minute.” He looked at me again. “Elara, this isn’t you. What is going on today? This woman is clearly at the end of her rope. Are we really just going to watch her jump?” I stared back at him, my gaze unwavering. “Bryan, don’t you know exactly why I’m acting this way?” Before he could answer, his best man, Leo, stepped forward. “Elara, maybe the rest of us don’t know what’s going on, but I was in the front seat. I saw the whole thing. You’ve been making a scene from the very beginning. All Bryan wants to do is help someone. What’s so wrong with that?” I glanced at the now-silent Bryan and let out a cold laugh. “You’re right. He’s a saint. A good Samaritan. And I’m a petty, vicious shrew. We’re clearly not meant to be.” “So I’m calling it off. Now he can go be the hero without any distractions. What’s the problem?” I shifted my gaze to the crying woman on the railing. “Besides, if she really wanted to die, she wouldn’t have been sitting there for so long. Don’t you think she’s being a little dramatic?” My words hit her like a physical blow. The last bit of color drained from her face. She bit her lip, her sobs turning into ragged gasps. “Fine! Fine… I’ll die. I’ll just die…” She gave Bryan one last, long, meaningful look, then turned without another moment’s hesitation. She clenched her fists and prepared to leap into the churning water below. “Don’t!” 3 The word was torn from Bryan’s throat, a raw, desperate shout. He lunged toward the railing, his hand outstretched, but he was too late. The woman’s body plummeted into the river, where she began to thrash in the cold, dark water. Without a second thought, Bryan shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and dove in after her. I remained on the bridge, watching the scene unfold with an unnerving calm, as if the man who had just risked his life wasn’t the man I was supposed to marry. If anyone had been on my side before, my last comment had obliterated that support. I was now the villain of the story. The crowd of onlookers turned on me, their whispers turning into outright accusations. Someone shoved a phone in my face, the camera recording. Another person had started a live stream. “You won’t believe the ice queen I’m seeing right now!” the streamer narrated excitedly. “This woman is beautiful, but she’s pure evil. Her husband wanted to save a suicidal woman, and she forbid him! Then she taunted the poor girl until she jumped! She’s basically a murderer!” A chorus of agreement rose from the crowd. “That’s right! She’s a killer!” “Threatening to cancel the wedding… a good man like that doesn’t deserve a monster like her!” “He’d be miserable if he married that witch!” I ignored them all. The river was frigid, but Bryan was a strong swimmer. He reached the woman quickly and pulled her back to the bank. They were both soaked and shivering, a pathetic sight. Her white dress was now transparent, and Bryan, ever the gentleman, immediately draped his jacket over her shoulders. “Here, I’ll take you to the hospital.” He didn’t even look at me. He put his arm around the woman and started to lead her toward the wedding limo. It was only then that I moved, stepping in front of them. “Wait.” Bryan, who had been struggling to control his temper, finally snapped. His face was dark with rage. “Elara, you already pushed her to this. What more do you want?” The last few words were practically a roar. In the year and a half we’d been together, I had never seen him lose control like this. I glanced at the woman huddled under his arm. “Relax. I’m not here to stop your heroic rescue. You can take her to the hospital. But first, you’re coming to the hotel with me.” Bryan’s jaw was a hard line. “Elara, you’ve gone too far.” The crowd’s jeers grew louder. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Was she raised by wolves?” I turned to the most vocal of the hecklers and pointed to the wedding videographer standing behind me. “Just so you know, my camera crew is recording every word you say. If you want to get sued for slander, please, keep talking.” That shut them up. I turned back to Bryan. “The wedding is off. You will come with me to the hotel and we will finalize the dissolution of this arrangement, right now.” This time, even my best friend looked at me with confusion. “Elara, are you sure…?” “Don’t try to talk me out of it. This is not up for discussion.” In the end, he came with me. When we arrived at the hotel, it was clear my parents hadn’t had a chance to make the announcement. The grand ballroom was still filled with hundreds of guests. I walked straight to the stage, my dress trailing behind me, and took the microphone. “Since everyone is here,” I announced, my voice ringing through the silent room, “I won’t waste any time. The wedding between Bryan Croft and myself is officially canceled.” “And since you are all here as our witnesses, we will handle the logistics of our separation right now. We will be returning all gifts, dowries, and family offerings on the spot.” A stunned silence fell over the massive room. Our parents rushed toward the stage. “Elara, what on earth is going on?” A few relatives who had been at the bridge began to whisper a heavily embellished version of the story, and a new wave of condemnation washed over me. I even noticed the live-streamers from the bridge had followed us, their phones still held high. “She threatened me,” one of them said smugly to her phone’s camera. “But I’m not scared. I’m going to make sure this woman is the most hated person in the country by tonight.” I ignored her and pulled out a pen and paper from my clutch, beginning to list all the financial and material items exchanged between our families. “Bryan, come and look at this. If there are no objections, sign it, and we can start the exchange.” The woman in white was still clinging to Bryan’s arm, her sobs a constant, pitiful backdrop. “I’m sorry… It’s all my fault…” Bryan’s mother, who had been pleading with me to calm down, heard the woman’s voice and her head snapped around. The moment she saw her, Mrs. Croft’s breath hitched. She stormed over to Bryan and slapped him, hard, across the face. “You… you ungrateful son! What is this madness on your wedding day?” She then turned back to me, her hands outstretched. “Elara, please…” I silently held out the list to Bryan. “Hurry up.” It was only then that he seemed to realize I was completely serious. This was not a negotiation. He looked up at me. “Elara…” Seeing him hesitate, I unlocked my phone, opened a popular social media app, and held a particular post up for him to see. “My patience is wearing thin, Bryan. And I am not a fool. Either you explain everything to our families, or I will.” His face went white as he read the screen, his lips beginning to tremble. 4 A few of the closer relatives with sharp eyes saw the screen and their expressions shifted instantly. Bryan looked like he couldn’t breathe. He finally met my gaze. “Elara, do you have to do this? We’ve been good together, haven’t we?” I clutched my phone, my heart a frozen lump in my chest. “Yes. I have to do this. After what happened today, you can’t possibly think there’s any coming back from this, can you?” He looked away, his hand slowly reaching out to take the list from me. He stared down at it, but he didn’t speak. Meanwhile, the live-streamers were still providing their running commentary. “Look at her! The evil bride is forcing the groom to annul the marriage right here, right now!” “I’m telling you, after today, no one will ever marry this woman!” “I agree! The whole country will know what a monster she is. Who would want her?” My mother stood behind me, tugging at my sleeve. “Sweetheart, you haven’t told me why you’re doing this. You know your father and I will support any decision you make, but you have to give us a reason.” I patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Mom. Just wait. You’ll understand in a minute.” As I was speaking to my mother, Mrs. Croft had finally lost her composure. She marched forward, yanked the woman in white away from her son, and began slapping her, again and again, before starting to kick and shove her. “Stella Reed, you little viper! Why can’t you just leave us alone? Is our family indebted to you and your mother from a past life? Are you two determined to haunt us until we’re all miserable?!” The woman, Stella, staggered under the blows, but she didn’t say a word, only covering her face and crying softly. At this point, even the slowest person in the room knew something was deeply wrong. The judgmental whispers died down. Even the live-streamers paused, bewildered. “Whoa… what is happening?” one of them muttered. “This is big. This is really big.” She moved closer with her phone. Bryan rushed to Stella’s defense, shielding her with his body. “Mom! Calm down!” Mrs. Croft’s face was flush with rage. “Calm down? You’re telling me to calm down? I told you, I made you promise you would break it off with this little tramp for good! You promised me! And what did you do? You brought her here, to your wedding! Are you trying to kill me?” Bryan’s face was grim. “Mom, it’s not what you think!” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I…” He opened his mouth, but no explanation came. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t bother, Bryan. You can’t think of a good lie. I don’t want to get involved in your family’s drama. All I want is to get this over with while our family and friends are here to witness it. Then we can go our separate ways.” Mrs. Croft tried one last time. “Elara, please, give him another chance. You’re the only daughter-in-law I will ever accept…” I looked at her with a flicker of pity. “Mrs. Croft, you are a good woman. But your son and I were not meant to be.” Our cryptic exchange only fueled the speculation in the room. “What is going on? It looks like Bryan has known this woman for a long time.” “Is she an ex-girlfriend the family doesn’t approve of?” “I think it’s more complicated than that.” Seeing Bryan still standing there in silence, I held up my phone again. “Since everyone is so curious, why don’t I clear things up?”

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One minute, I was nursing my thirty-year-old husband through a fever. The next, I blinked, and I was back in college, staring at his twenty-year-old self. That boy, all sharp edges and guarded eyes, awkwardly shoved a slip of paper with his number into my hand. But before I could even think about adding him, I blinked again and was back at the sickbed. My insanely jealous CEO husband was biting my hand, his voice a low growl. “Stella, where the hell have you been all day?” The truly terrifying part? A few days later, that same wounded, twenty-year-old version of my husband appeared out of thin air in my bathroom, looking utterly lost. And now, my two husbands are locked in a death-glare, both demanding to know the same thing: “Who is he?” 1. I was back. It was my first time time-traveling, and my head was still spinning. Ethan, however, was glaring at me. “Where did you go? I have a fever, and you just disappear?” I held up my hands, a picture of innocence. “What if I told you… I was with you the whole time? Just, the twenty-year-old you. Would you believe me?” A man fresh off a high fever is not a reasonable creature. He grabbed my hand, nipping it gently, his eyes, still glassy from the fever, filled with a look of pure, theatrical betrayal. “Stella, you’re getting better and better at lying.” God, I was being framed. I looked at the pouting, jealous man-child before me, then thought of the prickly boy who’d just handed me his number… Each had his own unique flavor. A wicked little smile played on my lips. But I had to explain. I gently pried his hand off mine. “It’s true. I think I just… time-traveled.” Ethan propped himself up on his pillows, tilting his head with an expression that screamed, I’m waiting to hear this bullshit. I dabbed the sweat from his temple with a tissue. “I just dozed off for a second, and when I opened my eyes, I was at a university.” “You were in the library, studying. A bunch of girls were trying, and failing, to pretend they weren’t staring at you.” “Then it must have been lunchtime. You left the study hall, and some guys came up to say hi.” I searched my memory, trying to dredge up more details. But the next part was a little hard to say. My thirty-year-old Ethan, listening to my surprisingly detailed fabrication, nudged me. “And then?” I glanced cautiously at his pale, post-fever face, hesitating. “I couldn’t hear exactly what they said, but… they basically dumped their milk teas all over you.” Ethan’s expression froze. Don’t tell me that actually happened… I tried to change the subject, but Ethan was fixated. “And then what?” I had no choice. I launched into the full story—how I’d given my jacket to his twenty-year-old self, followed him to the diner where he worked, helped him chase off a couple of thugs, bought bandages to patch him up, and then coaxed his contact info out of him. With every sentence, the storm clouds gathered on his face. He looked just like he did when we first met. I felt a prickle of unease and tugged on his sleeve. “Honey…” Ethan snapped back to the present, his expression softening slightly, but his eyes still held a sharp, unhappy glint. “That’s it?” I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper, smoothing it open. “The last thing that happened was the twenty-year-old you giving me his number.” Ethan snatched the note. Seeing the familiar handwriting and the string of digits, he finally, completely believed me. Then he ripped the paper to shreds and threw it in the trash can. “That shameless bastard. Trying to seduce a married woman.” …You do realize you’re yelling at yourself, right? 2. The emotional rollercoaster was too much for Ethan’s recovering body. He started coughing violently. Forgetting everything else, I rushed to his side, rubbing his back to soothe him, my voice soft and gentle. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop talking. Don’t get worked up, just breathe…” When he finally caught his breath, the first thing he asked was, “He didn’t touch you, did he?” I was speechless all over again. My mind flashed back to the grimy alley behind the diner. I was gripping the younger Ethan’s arm, my voice fierce. “Don’t you move! You’re bleeding!” The boy’s arm had been lean and fever-hot beneath my fingers. A guilty flush crept up my neck. Technically, I touched him. That doesn’t count, right? I slowly shook my head. “No.” Ethan knew me too well. His voice shot up an octave. “Stella!” I immediately surrendered, my voice dropping to a placating murmur. “You were bleeding…” He clung to my hand, a flicker of panic in his eyes, like a child terrified of being abandoned. “That’s not me. I’m here.” It finally hit me. That boy may have been a younger Ethan, but he wasn’t the man I’d met, fallen for, and married. “But…” I couldn’t help it. I looked down, twisting the edge of the blanket. “The you back then was so… raw.” And so pitiful. Like a lonely little stray. I couldn’t just leave him there. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. He stared at me for a long moment before awkwardly sinking into my arms. The high-and-mighty CEO was acting like a needy child. I stroked his forehead, still a little warm. “But… was what I saw real?” He never liked talking about his past, as if it were a source of deep shame. And I’d always respected that. Everyone has their secrets. But after what I’d just seen, how could I pretend it didn’t exist? He closed his eyes and mumbled a low, “Yeah.” Then he added, “So… you should probably show me a little extra love.” …I pinched his cheek, hard. “Oh, get over yourself.” 3. Life returned to normal, so much so that I nearly forgot about the whole time-travel incident. Until I woke up from a nap on my sunroom lounger, stretched, rolled over… and fell flat on the floor. A wave of laughter erupted around me. What the hell? Dazed and confused, I rubbed my aching elbow and blinked my eyes open. I wasn’t in my familiar sunroom. I was in a massive university lecture hall, packed with young students. On the stage, an old professor peered at me over his glasses, his expression disapproving. All around me were unfamiliar faces, their smiles tinged with mockery. Seriously? Again? My eyes instinctively scanned the crowd for that familiar face. And there he was, in a faded white shirt, a look of concern flashing across his features—the young Ethan. I gave him a reassuring smile. He flinched slightly and looked away, but the tips of his ears turned a suspicious shade of red. I scrambled to my feet, gave the professor a quick bow of apology, and sat down properly. After class, students left in chattering groups. Ethan, however, slowly packed his books into a canvas messenger bag, all by himself. “Ethan, is your hand feeling better?” I hurried over to him, noticing the bandage was gone. He ignored me completely, shouldering his bag and walking out of the classroom as if I were invisible. I’ve been married to the man for four years. I know his moods. He was sulking. But all I did in this world was fall on the floor! What did I do to piss him off? I snapped. “Ethan, are you deaf?!” Apparently, my angry voice had a certain power over him, regardless of his age. He stopped, turning to face me with a thunderous expression. “Can I help you?” I caught up to him. “Why are you ignoring me?” He let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to keep her distance?” “When did I ever say that?” The genuine confusion on my face seemed to wound him further. His expression turned to ice. “You never added my number, did you? So why are you bothering to talk to me today?” My face froze. After my husband had torn up the note, I’d dismissed the whole time-travel thing as a one-off fluke and completely forgotten about it. Besides! The thirty-year-old me still ended up getting his number five years later anyway! Seeing my silence, a look of profound disappointment washed over his face. He turned and walked away. His retreating back was stiff with the pride and hurt of a young man who felt betrayed. He disappeared around the corner of the stairwell. I stood there, paralyzed, a sour, aching feeling in my chest. Oh, God. I could picture it so clearly now: him, awkward and nervous, mustering all his courage to give me that note. I could feel the secret, fragile hope he must have held, checking his phone again and again, only to be met with crushing silence each time. The Ethan I met at the company gala five years later was confident, charming, and utterly in control. But this twenty-year-old version… he was sensitive, insecure, like a little snail peeking out of its shell, only to have it stomped on. I started to run after him. But what could I possibly say? “Hey, I’m your future wife, I came from another dimension and just kind of forgot to add you”? He’d think I was either a lunatic or a cruel liar playing games with him. I groaned, running my hands through my hair. I felt like a total, absolute heartbreaker. 4. I thought I would be sent back soon, just like last time. But I wasn’t. I fell asleep and woke up several times, and each time, I was still stuck in this world. Panic began to set in. The Ethan in my own time must be going crazy. With no other choice, I had to find his younger self again. That evening, I finally heard a familiar voice coming from the alley behind the diner where he worked. In the dim light, Ethan was surrounded by three sketchy-looking guys. One of them, wearing a grimy chef’s coat, was viciously poking him in the chest. “Damn it! I gave you a job washing dishes, and this is how you repay me? You broke a whole stack! You’re not leaving until you pay me five hundred bucks!” Ethan’s jaw was tight, his face ghostly pale in the gloom, but his eyes burned with the fury of a cornered wolf. “It wasn’t my fault,” he said, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “The floor was slippery…” “So what?” The chef shoved him hard. “You’re a broke loser! If you don’t have the cash, you can work it off!” This was straight-up bullying. Rage flooded through me. Without thinking, I stormed forward and slapped the chef’s hand away from Ethan’s chest. “What do you think you’re doing, ganging up on him?” The men were clearly startled by my sudden appearance. The chef looked me up and down, saw I was just a girl, and sneered. “Get lost, little missy. This ain’t your business.” “You’re the ones who should get lost!” I stood in front of Ethan. My heart was pounding, but I wasn’t backing down. “If he broke dishes, he pays market price! Why are you trying to rip him off? You want me to call the cops?” I subtly reached behind me and grabbed Ethan’s wrist. It was cold and trembling. I gave it a squeeze, telling him not to do anything rash. At the mention of the police, the men hesitated. “The cops would still make him pay! One hundred, right now, and he can go!” A hundred dollars. For the Ethan of this time, that was probably a fortune. I felt the muscles in his wrist tense up. It’s okay! I have money! I have plenty of— My hand hit my empty pocket. I’d forgotten I didn’t have my phone in this world. In a moment of desperation, I slipped off the bracelet I’d been wearing—the one that had traveled with me—and thrust it at the chef. “It’s designer! That’s more than enough, right?” The chef blinked, taking the bracelet dubiously. After inspecting it for a moment, he and his cronies finally left, muttering curses under their breath. The narrow alley fell silent, leaving just me and Ethan. The only sound was his ragged breathing. I let go of his wrist and turned to see if he was hurt. He whipped his head away, refusing to look at me, the line of his jaw razor-sharp. It was a toxic mix of humiliation, shame, and the raw helplessness of being seen at his absolute worst. “You…” his voice was a hoarse whisper. “Why do you keep showing up?” Why did I always find him at his lowest, most pathetic moments? “I…” I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Comfort felt cheap, and an explanation was impossible. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over me. The world around me began to warp and blur. Ethan must have noticed something was wrong, because he instinctively turned back to look at me. As he stared in shock, my form began to fade. “Ethan!” I yelled with all the strength I had left. “Don’t give up! Just hold on! Everything is going to be okay! I promise!” My voice scattered in the wind. His eyes widened in utter astonishment and disbelief. Then I blinked. The soft bed. The familiar chandelier. And beside me, looking haggard and worn, was the thirty-year-old Ethan, his eyes locked on me. He grabbed my wrist, his voice a torrent of panicked, jealous fury. “Stella! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?” “And you show up here shouting another man’s name? Telling him ‘everything is going to be okay’? What the hell happened between you two?!” I pressed my fingers to my throbbing temples. “Honey… you’re not going to believe this…” 5. Ethan was holding me so tightly I could barely breathe, but the scowl on his face could curdle milk. I tried to push him away. He roared, “Are you trying to go back to that pathetic loser?” …Just how much did he hate his former self? “No…” I mumbled. “I just need a shower…” “A shower?” The suspicion in his eyes didn’t fade. He held me even tighter, as if terrified I’d vanish if he let go. “You finally come back to me, and the first thing you want is a shower? Stella, have you no heart?” His tone was so accusatory. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My heart ached for him, but I was also completely exasperated. It seemed my extended “disappearance” this time had really terrified him. I softened my voice, trying to calm the storm. “I don’t know why I went back to that world either.” I gave him the condensed version of my second trip, including how I’d found him being bullied again and used my bracelet to bail him out. “Look.” I held up my wrist, the one he’d been gripping. It was bare. “The bracelet you always see me wear? It’s gone. I gave it to that chef.” Ethan’s gaze fell on my empty wrist. His brow furrowed, and his voice turned glacial. “My anniversary gift to you… you just gave it to someone else?” “Ethan!” I couldn’t believe his focus was always on the most ridiculously petty details. I had to shout to get his attention. “You don’t value what I give you, and you don’t value me!” He was fuming one second, then his face crumpled in panic the next. He buried his face in my neck, taking deep breaths as if trying to calm himself down. After a few tense seconds, he muttered, “Don’t you ever do that again…” I seized the opportunity to placate him. “Okay. How about I take a quick shower, and then we can have a date night?” “Mm,” came the meek reply from the man in my arms. “So… can I go take that shower now, Mr. CEO?” He reluctantly let me go, but his eyes stayed glued to me, as if he expected me to time-travel straight out of the bathroom. I just shook my head with a small smile and headed for the en-suite. I stepped inside, locked the door behind me, and turned on the hot water. Steam began to fill the spacious room. I let out a long sigh. These days were getting way too intense. Just as I reached for the hem of my shirt, I heard it. A tiny, stifled gasp from behind the shower curtain. I froze, every hair on my body standing on end. Who? Is someone in the house? My heart hammered against my ribs. In one swift motion, I reached out and ripped the shower curtain open. The next second, I was completely petrified. Curled up in the bathtub was a figure. Tall but painfully thin, dressed in a soaked, yellowed-white shirt and jeans. Dark, messy hair was plastered to a pale forehead. At the sound, he jerked his head up. Those young, sharp eyes… it was the twenty-year-old Ethan. How was he here? In my bathroom? Did I travel back the instant I returned? Our eyes met. The air was dead silent. He stared at me, his gaze filled with utter confusion. He clearly had no idea how he’d gone from a filthy back alley to this luxurious, pristine bathroom with a “familiar” woman standing in it. “You…” His chapped lips moved, his voice weak and hoarse. “What… is this…” Before he could finish, the bathroom door clicked and was thrown open. My thirty-year-old Ethan stood in the doorway, a look of impatience on his face. “Stella, what’s taking so long? I don’t even hear the water runn—” His complaint died in his throat. His gaze shot past me, landing squarely on the younger version of himself huddled in the tub. Time itself seemed to freeze. The expression on my husband’s face shifted from concern to annoyance, then to absolute, mind-bending shock, before finally settling into a dark, thunderous rage. He looked at me. He looked at the soaking wet boy in the tub. A vein pulsed violently in his temple. “Stel-la!” He bit out my name, each syllable dripping with a venomous mix of jealousy and fury that had just been lit on fire.

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Since kindergarten, Charles and I had never gone more than three days without seeing each other. But the moment our families started talking about our engagement, he vanished. For an entire year, he ghosted me. He blocked me on everything. His company security had a standing order: no solicitors, and absolutely no Arabella Fairchild. If I so much as appeared in his line of sight, he would turn on his heel and walk away. Eventually, even his friends couldn’t stand it anymore. One of them, Leo, arranged for me to see him. But when I arrived, Charles’s cold voice sliced through the crack in the private room door. “She’s just a little plaything who comes running whenever I snap my fingers.” “No ambition, no personality… Being engaged to her would be beneath me.” 1 My hand froze on the doorknob. I couldn’t bring myself to push it open. Leo, standing behind me, quickly covered my ears. “Bella, don’t listen to him. He’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying!” “I’ll go give him a piece of my mind!” He made a move to shove the door open, but I grabbed his sleeve and shook my head. All this time, all I’d wanted was an answer. Why was he so violently opposed to our engagement? He’d made it a public spectacle, the talk of our entire social circle. I had looked up to him as my protector, my big brother, for seventeen years. But he wasn’t my real brother. We both had to get married eventually. Why couldn’t it be me? Now, I finally had my answer. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough, or pretty enough. It was that he had only ever seen me as a pet. A little creature he’d raised from childhood. Something to amuse him? To pass the time? Or maybe just something pretty to have around. Leo dabbed at my tears with a handkerchief, muttering, “Damn it, Carter and the guys shouldn’t have… this was a terrible idea…” “It’s okay, Leo.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “Can you just take me home? I don’t want to see him anymore.” “Yeah, of course…” Just as we turned to leave, the door swung open from the inside. We froze, staring at Carter, who was standing there, equally surprised. He didn’t know what had just happened. He just grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. The whole point of this dinner was for them to convince Charles to make up with me. Carter sat me down in the chair directly across from Charles. “Come on, man,” Carter said. “Even if you’re fighting with your family, you can’t take it out on Bella.” “We’ve all known her since we were kids. Just talk to her. Don’t let your pride cause some stupid misunderstanding.” Charles hadn’t looked up once since I entered the room. But the veins on the back of the hand gripping his glass were stark and white. Leo followed me in, shaking his head and trying to signal to Carter to shut up. Before Leo could pull me away, Charles finally spoke. His voice was low and tight. “Arabella, why can’t you ever just listen?” “Didn’t I tell you we shouldn’t see each other until my grandfather and my parents change their minds?” “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?” I stared at my lap, the words lodged in my throat. The air in the room was thick with tension. The last time I’d seen him this angry was when one of his college friends—a guy he actually liked—had asked me out. Leo sighed and came over, gently stroking my hair. He then herded the other guys out of the room, leaving Charles and me alone. 2 Charles threw back a mouthful of whiskey, his frustration palpable. “Bella, can’t you have some self-respect?” “I told you, I’m not interested in you. I have never, not once, looked at you as a woman.” “Instead of clinging to me all the time, why don’t you do something to improve yourself?” “All you ever do is orbit around men…” “Are you that pathetic?” “When I take over the company for real, I’ll be traveling constantly for meetings. I can’t just drag you along with me everywhere.” I felt like I’d been plunged into an icy sea. A cold numbness spread through me, stealing the strength from my limbs, the words from my mouth. So this is how he saw me. After all these years. “So just be a good girl and stay away from me. The old man will probably give up on this engagement idea soon enough.” “I understand,” I whispered. “And you’ll stop bothering Leo and the others to track me down?” “I’ll stop.” A slideshow of my life flashed through my mind. I used to cherish those memories like precious jewels. Now, I saw how ridiculous I’d been. I had ignored how his patience with me had worn thinner and thinner since high school. I had ignored the undisguised disdain in his eyes when he looked at my clothes, my style. I had ignored the first thing he said when he found out his friend had asked me out: “Someone actually likes her?” … I lifted my head and looked at him, my gaze clear and steady. “Charles. Thank you for saving me when I was a little girl.” “I’ll learn my lesson now. I promise, I will never bother you again.” With that, I stood up and walked out, and I didn’t look back. 3 I flipped on the lights in the villa. As always, it was empty. Silent. My parents were perpetually away, and my grandfather lived a quiet life of self-cultivation in the mountains. Charles’s mom once told me that from the day I was born, I was raised by a single nanny. When I was three, the nanny went out for groceries and forgot to close the front door. I wandered out of the house and fell in the middle of the road. Charles, who was playing in his yard next door, heard my crying and carried me back to his house. For the next fifteen years, I grew up trailing behind him. I followed him to the same elementary school, the same middle school, even the same university. When I was bullied for being quiet and withdrawn, Charles was the one who stood up for me. He taught me how to protect myself. When I thought about it, Charles had been in my life more than my own parents. I depended on him too much. So when he first started avoiding me, I panicked. I searched for him everywhere, feeling like my entire world had become a terrifying, empty void. A year isn’t a long time. But it was harder than the fifteen years that came before it. I sat at my computer, staring blankly at the acceptance email for the foreign exchange program. My therapist said a change of scenery would help. New hobbies to distract me. I had wanted to tell Charles… A bitter laugh escaped me. He was probably dying for me to get as far away as possible. When I left, I only sent a text to my parents. Not that they would notice, anyway. … Landing in Italy, I fumbled my way through the paperwork and renting an apartment. It wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. While waiting for the semester to start, I traveled, exploring nearby cities. Just as my therapist had said, getting away really did change my perspective. And my habits. After being pickpocketed three times and harassed more times than I could count, I decided to learn Krav Maga. There was no one to protect me here. I had to learn to protect myself. 4 Two months into the semester in Italy, I got a sudden call from Leo. “Bella! You went to Italy? Why didn’t you tell us? We only found out because we ran into one of your classmates.” “Yeah, I just wanted a change of scenery, clear my head. I’ll be back in a few months, don’t worry.” “So how are you doing? Is your place safe?” “Everything’s great. It’s perfectly safe.” “Good, good. Hey, maybe you should give your brother… uh, Charles… a call? He knows some people over there.” “No, that’s okay. I’m fine on my own. No need to bother anyone.” “Alright then. Well, if you need anything, call me or… uh… him.” Back in the Sterling Corporation office, Leo waited until he heard the click on the other end before hanging up. “She’s got some nerve,” Charles muttered, flicking a lighter open and closed, his face a dark thundercloud. “Dude, you were the one who told her to get lost,” Leo said, sprawling lazily on the sofa and glancing at a copy of Arabella’s exchange application. “Telling her to get lost doesn’t mean she can’t send a text or make a phone call.” “Oh, for God’s sake, Charles, check your own block list. You were the one who said you had to make it look convincing and blocked her on everything. How was she supposed to tell you?” “If I were her, I wouldn’t bother with you either,” Leo grumbled, rolling his eyes. He was Charles’s childhood friend and had watched Arabella grow up too. He knew, more or less, about the situation with her family. Parents who were never there, a kid who barely spoke to anyone but clung to Charles like a lifeline. But Charles didn’t have romantic feelings for her. Now that she was far away, he was clearly worried sick, but too damn proud to admit it. What a mess. Let them sort out their own drama, he thought. After Leo left, Charles rubbed his temples. There was a knot of irritation in his chest that he couldn’t loosen. It was even worse than the time he’d discovered her art studio was filled with dozens of portraits of him. The two family patriarchs were still pressuring them to get engaged. Bella was just a junior in college. A kid who’d never even been on a date. What did she know about any of this? Charles scrolled through his phone. After a long hesitation, he unblocked the contact labeled “Little Sister.” Then he buzzed his secretary, Lina. “Mr. Sterling, you wanted to see me.” “Bella went to Italy by herself.” A flicker of a triumphant smile crossed Lina’s lips before she quickly suppressed it. “That just proves that my ‘tough love’ approach worked,” she said smoothly. “Miss Fairchild has been without guidance her whole life. No one ever corrected her when she was wrong.” “She’s a junior in college and her world still revolves around you. What kind of future can she have like that?” “With girls like her, who have no sense of self, you have to use harsh words. Otherwise, she’ll never learn to stand on her own two feet.” Lina smiled sweetly. “Besides, her going abroad doesn’t necessarily mean she’s making progress. She could just be copying a scene from a romance novel, playing hard to get.” “I’m a woman, too. I know all about these little games.” “To cure her of this… dependency, you have to maintain your distance.” Charles looked thoughtful. “But she’s never been anywhere far on her own…” “Mr. Sterling, she’s a college junior. She’s not a child. I was younger than her when I went off to college in a strange city. It’s not that hard. Girls don’t need to be coddled so much.” On second thought, she had a point. Maybe Bella had just seen so few men in her life that she’d mistaken her sibling-like affection for him for romantic love. It was probably for the best to let her fend for herself for a while. He told Lina to cancel the plane ticket to Italy he had just booked and turned his attention back to his work. 5 Bang. Bang. Bang. “Perfetto!” I nodded to the instructor, set down the M1 rifle, and rubbed my wrists. My marksmanship was getting better. I packed up my things in silence, trying to clear my head. I had my combat class this afternoon and needed to get home early tonight. Otherwise, I’d run into that obnoxious neighbor again. Just as I reached the door, a tall Asian man walked toward me. I kept my head down, moving to the side to let him pass. But he stopped directly in front of me. “Excuse me, are you Miss Arabella Fairchild?” he asked in fluent, unaccented English. “Yes, and you are…?” I looked up, curious. The man before me was dressed in a bespoke suit, easily six-foot-three, and radiated an aura of command. But the moment our eyes met, that intimidating pressure vanished. His eyes were a deep, startling blue. “My name is Dominic Moretti. I’m a friend of Charles’s.” “Oh… hello.” “Charles told me you were studying here alone. He was worried, so he asked me to look out for you.” “The apartment you’re in isn’t the safest. I’ve arranged another place for you. Would you like to move?” “You can call him and confirm, if you like.” Dominic gestured for me to follow him, and we sat down at the café next door. He took out his phone and dialed. After a brief exchange, he handed the phone to me with a gentlemanly grace. “Bella.” “Hi.” “Dominic is from the Moretti family. We have some business dealings. He’ll arrange a place for you to stay. You can ask him for help with anything you need.” I took a steadying breath. Hearing that familiar voice felt like stepping back in time, to before he started avoiding me. Maybe it was the time, or the distance, or maybe the year of withdrawal had finally worked. I wasn’t as heartbroken as I thought I’d be. “Okay, I understand. Thank you.” There was a slight pause on the other end. “But don’t be a leech and latch onto him. Learn to be independent. Show some progress, you understand?” “I understand.” After hanging up, I returned the phone to Dominic with both hands. Then, I obediently followed him to his car. Since they were business partners, Charles must have already offered Dominic something in return for this favor. For my own safety in a foreign country, I wasn’t going to be stubborn. 6 In the car, Dominic made a call and arranged for someone to pack up my things. Then, he took me out for a proper Italian dinner. An hour later, the driver pulled the car through the gates of a sprawling estate. “Miss Fairchild, after you.” “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.” As I stepped out of the car, I saw a butler and several maids waiting for us. Dominic gestured for me to follow him inside. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Moretti. You were seven years old the last time I saw you, at the Sterling’s house.” I looked up at him, puzzled. “You and Charles were playing hide-and-seek. You ran right into my leg and fell down and started crying.” Dominic remembered it vividly. He’d been very struck by her. He and his father were visiting the Sterlings. The moment they walked in the door, a little white puffball had collided with him. Most kids that age would have wailed. But little Arabella just sat there on the floor, rubbing her nose, fat tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Before he could even say anything, the little puffball wiped her own tears, whispered to herself, “Bella’s okay, be good,” and then scrambled up and ran off. Combined with the file his assistant had given him this morning… She probably cried because no one was there to comfort her. Charles was just a nine-year-old kid himself, and the Sterlings were too busy to pay much attention to the neighbor’s child. At the time, Dominic had thought to himself, If no one wants this kid, I should just take her back with me. He never imagined that over a decade later, that childhood whim would actually come true. 7 We made our way to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, a door to the right was open. Inside, a man and two maids were unpacking my luggage. The man saw us and came out to greet us. “Mr. Moretti, Miss Fairchild.” “Sir, I thought we were taking her to the south-side flat. Why the change to your estate?” Hearing this, I looked at Dominic as well. The tall man rubbed his nose. “Oh, my cousin is coming to stay there for a while. I had to put Miss Fairchild here for the time being.” “Ah, I see.” … The days that followed were peaceful. Dominic even cleared out a space for a small art studio for me in the third-floor library. When I didn’t have class, I would paint. Dominic was often in the library as well, working. Sometimes he would sit beside me and watch, joking that he was collecting the early works of a future master. When he found out I was learning marksmanship and combat, he volunteered to be my coach. He noticed that my wardrobe consisted entirely of simple, athletic wear, and had a high-end designer send over a collection of perfectly coordinated outfits. He had excellent taste. I never knew I could look so beautiful. I thought my life would continue on this tranquil path. Until one day, I noticed a shift in the atmosphere of the estate. The butler knocked on my door. “Miss Fairchild, we will be conducting a deep cleaning of the estate. We’ll need you to stay at a hotel for a few days, perhaps a week.” “The driver and a maid will accompany you, so your daily routine will not be disturbed.” I traced the edge of the doorframe with my finger. After a moment’s hesitation, I couldn’t help but ask, “Will… Dominic be staying at the hotel too?” This feeling… My heart sank. It was horribly familiar. Was Dominic tired of me, too? After only three months? “Sir is… going on a business trip. He will come and pick you up personally when he returns.” I clenched my fists, forcing down the sour feeling rising in my throat. “Okay.” “When do we leave?” “Whenever you are ready.” I told him I’d just change my clothes and then closed the door. A bitter laugh escaped me. It’s fine. It’s not the first time. Thinking back on the last three months with Dominic, I sometimes felt a strange kinship with him, like I had met one of my own kind. His small, compulsive habits, the way he understood my paintings… Whatever. Maybe he really was just busy. I slung a backpack over my shoulder and went downstairs. The maids were almost all gone. Only the butler and the driver were waiting for me by the door. A ridiculous thought popped into my head. What if Dominic went bankrupt? I couldn’t help but find a sliver of dark humor in the thought, and then promptly choked on my own saliva. I motioned to the butler and hurried to the kitchen for a glass of water. I still didn’t know the estate very well; it wasn’t a castle, but it was far from small. After drinking the water, I passed by a room with the door slightly ajar. I heard the faint sound of shattering glass from inside. Didn’t they say everyone was gone? Maybe it was one of Dominic’s pets? A cat or a dog? It couldn’t be a person… Curiosity killed the cat. I went back to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and returned to the half-open door. I pushed it open. Behind the door was a staircase leading down. A basement? The lights along the stairs were on, and the walls were adorned with beautiful murals. Holding my phone in one hand and the knife in the other, I slowly descended. At the bottom was another, more ornate door. I thought about turning back. What if it was dangerous? But just as I was about to leave, I heard a familiar sound. It was just a muffled grunt, but I recognized it. It was Dominic’s voice. I turned back and pulled the door open. Slumped on the floor, amidst the shards of a broken wine bottle, was him. 8 Dominic was clutching a piece of glass in his right hand. His left hand was a bloody mess from where he’d been punching the wall. I hesitated, torn between running away and my stupid bleeding heart. I settled on a cowardly compromise: I stayed in the doorway and called his name. “Dominic? Are you okay?” His body went rigid, every muscle tensing. It was as if he was shocked to hear another person’s voice. He turned and looked at me. “Bella? How did you find this place…? Didn’t the butler take you away?” Dominic forced a smile, the same gentle smile he always wore, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I could see his left hand trembling. I debated for a few moments, regretting that I’d called out to him. “I’ll go now. I won’t disturb you. Just… make sure you take care of your hand.” I was about to close the door when I heard him whisper, a desperate plea: “Don’t go…” “What?” “I won’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid.” “I just… I had a nightmare. I can’t sleep. I’m scared.” “Bella, can you just… stay with me for a little while?”

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In the seventh year of my crush on my childhood best friend, Caleb, my own best friend finally gave me the push I needed. I bought flowers and his favorite cake, took an all-night bus, and went to confess my feelings. Only to find him at a packed basketball court. Kissing her. Caleb had his arm wrapped around my best friend, Lily. His voice was cold when he saw me. “What are you doing here? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Humiliated and a mess from my trip, I was about to stammer out an explanation. But then his roommate let out a soft laugh from the sidelines. “My girlfriend brought me a cake. What’s it to you?” 1 When I found the basketball court, cake box in hand, Caleb had Lily pinned against the chain-link fence, kissing her. Lily only froze for a second before wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as deeply. The air was thick and hot. I stood just outside the court, dizzy and lightheaded after the overnight bus ride. The roar of the crowd felt like it was going to burst my eardrums. “Dude, I told you! I bet he’d finally make a move on Lily today.” “It’s about time. They’ve been flirting for ages.” “Pay up, pay up!” The words hit me, and the strength drained from my arms. The flowers and the cake suddenly felt impossibly heavy. On my phone was the last text Lily had sent me. “Caleb’s at the court! Go get him!” 2 The sky had turned a gloomy gray. A wind was picking up. Swallowing the lump of humiliation in my throat, I turned and ran. Behind me, I heard Lily’s frantic voice, thick with tears. “Chloe… it’s not what it looks like…” “Let me explain.” I’d been on a bus for nearly twenty-four hours. I was exhausted and my heart was shattered. I didn’t have the energy to figure out why Lily, on the very day she pushed me to confess my feelings, was kissing the guy I was supposed to be confessing to. But she grabbed the hem of my shirt, stopping me. Her usually rosy cheeks were pale. She frantically tried to push Caleb toward me, her voice trembling with unshed tears. “Chloe, let Caleb talk to you…” Caleb just grabbed her hand, his voice a low murmur. “What are you doing? Trying to give your new boyfriend away already?” Lily stubbornly held onto my shirt, not letting go. But she didn’t pull her hand from Caleb’s, either. The three of us were frozen in a horrible tableau. Seeing the tears welling in Lily’s eyes, Caleb’s expression darkened. He turned on me. “Who told you to come here?” “Can’t you see I’m busy?” I had traveled all night, my heart a nervous wreck, only to be met with his icy dismissal. The words I had rehearsed died in my throat. I pulled my shirt from Lily’s grasp, ready to just disappear. But then a calm, cool voice cut through the tension. “I did. Is there a problem?” A tall figure appeared a short distance away. He lazily lifted his gaze to meet mine. “You can’t even deliver a gift to the right person. Get over here.” 3 I never expected to see Liam Hale again in a situation like this. The last time we’d met was three years ago, when Liam, as our school’s valedictorian, gave a speech at graduation. When I went to hand him his award, I tripped on the stage runner and sent both myself and the trophy flying. After that, he and Caleb had gone to the same university. They’d even become roommates. It seemed like every time I saw him, I was making a complete fool of myself. Caleb looked annoyed. “Liam, stay out of this.” “Just let her go back to wherever she came from.” Liam just let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Are you confused about something?” “My girlfriend brought me a cake. What business is it of yours?” And just like that, I ended up at Caleb’s birthday party that night as Liam’s “girlfriend.” The atmosphere was… awkward. Lily kept staring at me, forgetting to eat. “Why are you looking at her?” Caleb frowned. “Eat up. Don’t worry, no one’s going to hurt you.” Something inside me finally snapped. I stared directly at Caleb. “Make it clear. How exactly am I hurting her?” Caleb’s face hardened, but he said nothing. I turned to Lily. “Are you afraid of me? Did you do something to feel guilty about?” Lily just shook her head, whispering, “No.” Liam slid a glass of watermelon juice in front of me. “If she’s this fragile, you probably shouldn’t take her out in public,” he said, his voice light. He then grabbed a handful of pistachios. “Shell these quietly. You might scare her to death.” A few people at the table snorted, trying to stifle their laughter. Lily’s face flushed. She mumbled an excuse about needing the restroom and fled. Later that evening, exhausted and sleepy, I decided to leave early. I saw Liam step out to take a call and followed him. I wanted to thank him. I’d come all this way, and at my most vulnerable moment, he’d saved me. The hallway was dimly lit. Liam was at the far end, his voice low and cool, echoing slightly in the empty space. I realized then that he was the Student Body President. He had another commitment tonight but had postponed it for this party. I waited a few feet away for him to finish his call. When he saw me, he paused. “I’ll call you back.” He hung up and turned to me. “What’s up?” “Tonight… thank you.” Liam leaned against the windowsill, just watching me. Just when I was starting to think I had something on my face, he asked, “Want to go to the amusement park tomorrow?” “With you?” “Who else?” he asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Didn’t you post about wanting to go? You shouldn’t come all this way for nothing.” The wind from the open window stirred his dark hair, the hem of his white shirt fluttering. The casual way he looked at me made all the hurt I’d been suppressing bubble to the surface. I quickly looked down, wiping my eyes. “Thanks. I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow, then.” Liam was quiet for a long moment. I thought he was going to make fun of me for being a crybaby, but instead, he drew out the words slowly, “Alright, girlfriend.” 4 Liam had to leave early for his student government meeting. When I came out of the restroom, I ran into Lily. There was a fresh bite mark on her lip. The second she saw me, the tears started falling. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I never meant for any of this to happen. Can you please forgive me?” I just felt sick. I pushed her hand away and took out my phone. “How much was the hotel room? I’ll transfer you the money.” Lily froze. “Chloe… I’m sorry. I forgot to book you a hotel.” Her voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater. I thought I must have misheard. Was this really the best friend I had trusted completely? She had insisted on booking the hotel for me, telling me to just worry about getting here. And now this. “Lily, you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” “I’m sorry,” she said, looking pained. “All the rooms near campus were booked, and Caleb was being so persistent… I just forgot. You can stay in my dorm tonight, if you want?” I didn’t want to hear any more. I turned to leave. But she grabbed my arm. “Chloe, wait. Liam has a girl he likes. He… he was just helping you out tonight. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and get hurt again.” I looked at her, at this carefully crafted, innocent victim act, and I was just done. I yanked my arm free. Lily, caught off guard, stumbled and fell to the floor with a dramatic, “delicate” thud. A sarcastic smile twisted my lips. “What, are you a mind reader now? You know what Liam is thinking?” Lily kept her head down, but her breathing was suddenly ragged. Caleb appeared out of nowhere, shoving me aside to help her up. “Does that cake you brought have mango in it?” he demanded. I just stared at him coldly. His anger flared. “Don’t you know Lily’s allergic to mangoes? Are you trying to kill her?” For the first time, I noticed the purplish tint to Lily’s lips. I knew she was allergic. But the mangoes… Lily was the one who told me to add them. “It’s Caleb’s favorite,” she’d said. 5 At one in the morning, Lily was admitted to the university hospital. The doctor sighed. “If you know you’re allergic, why would you eat it? Do you have a death wish?” Caleb whipped his head around, his face dark as he glared at me. “She’s in there because of you. Are you happy now?” I took a deep breath. “Caleb, are you an idiot?” I shot back. “Lily knew there were mangoes in that cake. She’s the one who couldn’t control herself. What does that have to do with me?” His gaze turned to ice. “Stop pretending, Chloe.” “Don’t think I don’t know why you really came here.” “Does it bother you that much that she and I are together? Did you have to bring a poisoned cake just to hurt her?” Looking at this man, so blind and unfair, I felt a sharp, clear pang of regret. Regret for all the times he’d stayed after school to tutor me in math. Regret for when he’d encouraged me to apply to the same university. Regret for when he’d joked about how lost I’d be without him. I shouldn’t have ever thought he liked me. I hadn’t slept in over a day. The exhaustion was making my heart pound erratically. I closed my eyes for a second, then took out my phone and dialed 911 without a second thought. Just before the call connected, Caleb snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it on the floor. “Enough! How long are you going to keep this up?” I stared at the shattered phone, then slowly crouched down and began to pick up the pieces. Then, I stood up and threw them all in his face. I had a crush on him for seven years. That didn’t mean I didn’t have any pride. “Doctor,” I said, my voice shaking. “Could you please call the police for me?” I was at my limit. Black spots danced in my vision. As I started to fall backward, a pair of strong hands caught me, steadying me. The clean scent of soap and mint filled my senses. Liam’s cool, clear voice came from above me. “She didn’t eat much for dinner. It’s probably low blood sugar. Doctor, could you please take a look at her?” Through the haze of my fading consciousness, I thought I heard him dialing a number. His voice was a distant, cold murmur. “Hello, I’d like to report an incident.” 6 The doctor gave me a glucose packet, and the world slowly came back into focus. Liam had finished his call and was now staring at Lily with a flat, unreadable expression. Lily flinched and burrowed deeper into Caleb’s arms. “I… I only had a little taste. The cake was just sitting there, it was meant to be eaten.” “The doctor seems to think you had more than just a little taste,” Liam said, his face impassive. “I think it’s best if we get the security footage and clear this all up with the police.” I knew from high school that Lily was terrified of authority. Just seeing a cop on the street made her walk funny. Now, with the police actually on their way, she was frozen to the spot. I explained everything, from start to finish. The officer pointed to the security footage on his monitor, which clearly showed Lily eating three large slices of the cake. “You knew you were allergic, and you ate three pieces? You couldn’t taste the giant mango filling?” Lily was pale with fear. All she could do was apologize over and over. “I’m sorry… I just have a sweet tooth. It won’t happen again.” She hung her head, silent tears tracking down her cheeks. Caleb, of course, softened. “Alright, just try to control yourself next time.” His tone was a world away from the venom he’d directed at me. Lily’s eyes reddened, and she was about to lean on him for comfort. But I took Liam’s phone and held up the payment app’s QR code to Caleb. “Lily ate my cake, and you broke my phone. In front of a police officer and a doctor, it’s time to pay up.” Liam, suddenly brought into it, chimed in smoothly, “I can confirm. My girlfriend has indeed suffered a financial loss.” Caleb’s face was a mask of thunder. “Chloe, are you really going to be like this with me?” “You told me to get lost. Should I be thanking you for smashing my phone?” With the police present, Caleb quickly transferred the money. But as he watched Liam help me out of the hospital, his expression turned dark and stormy. 7 I walked out of the hospital and down a small alley, my pace getting faster and faster. When I turned a corner onto an empty street, I finally collapsed, crouching down and burying my face in my knees. The summer night was silent. A sea of purple lilacs spilled through the bars of an old, wrought-iron fence from a nearby apartment complex. A breeze rustled through them, sending petals drifting to the ground. The streetlight was dim, casting only two shadows on the pavement. Mine, crumpled on the ground. And Liam’s, standing a few feet away. “It’s okay,” he said. “Go ahead and cry. I won’t tell anyone.” The dam broke. A sob tore from my throat, echoing through the empty street, lost in the scent of the lilacs. Before I came here, I had prepared myself. Rejection was fine. At least I would have Lily. On the bus ride, we had chatted excitedly about everything—food, sights to see, which bar we’d hit if the confession was a disaster. But in the span of a single day, I’d been humiliated by Caleb and betrayed by Lily. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Liam stood a short distance behind me, giving me space, shielding me from view. After a long time, I finally stood up, my eyes swollen. “Thank you, for today.” Liam didn’t look at me. He was staring at his phone, his voice casual. “It’s three hours till sunrise. Get some sleep. We can do the amusement park the day after tomorrow, okay?” “Okay,” I croaked. Just then, a police car pulled up beside us. The window rolled down, and the officer inside greeted Liam like an old friend. “Liam, this is your friend?” “Yeah,” Liam said. “She couldn’t get a hotel. My aunt said she could stay at her place tonight. Could you give her a ride?” “Sure thing. Hop in.” Seeing my confused expression, Liam explained quietly, “My uncle. I figured you’d feel safer if he was the one to drive you.” It clicked. He was worried I wouldn’t trust him. So he had his police officer uncle take me to a safe place for the night. I opened my mouth, but I’d already said “thank you” too many times tonight. So I said something else instead. “The day after tomorrow… I’m buying you dinner.” Liam smiled, as if he knew what I’d been thinking. “You already said that, too.” He opened the car door for me, saving me from my embarrassment. “Alright, see you in two days.” The door closed. Before I could say goodbye, his figure was already shrinking in the distance, a dark silhouette against the fading streetlights. 8 I never would have guessed that Liam’s aunt lived in the residential quarters right next to the police station. I felt so safe that I slept for a full day and night. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw a text from Liam. “Text me when you’re awake.” I stared at the message for a moment, then shot out of bed. I had a date with Liam at the amusement park, and I was going to be late. I rushed to the park, arriving out of breath. Liam was sitting on a park bench, his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking relaxed and at ease. Sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling him in gold. “When did you get here?” I panted. He placed a sunhat on my head, his voice laced with a smile. “Just now. Not too early, not too late, girlfriend.” Then, he casually took my hand. My entire body went rigid. Liam leaned in close, whispering, “Don’t look now. Caleb’s behind us.” Sure enough, I heard Lily’s voice. I cursed my luck. Why did they have to be everywhere? I deliberately leaned closer to Liam, pressing against his arm. “Let’s go to the haunted house.” Lily was a coward. She’d avoid a place like that. But as the park attendant was sorting us into groups, I saw her, clinging to Caleb’s arm, walking right in. “Chloe, I was calling you… you didn’t hear me.” Caleb’s gaze lingered on my and Liam’s clasped hands for a second before he looked away, his expression cold. He said to Liam, “Wanna team up?” Liam looked at me. “I don’t mind,” I said. So, of course, Liam didn’t mind either. The four of us were sent down the same path. The moment we stepped inside, the world went dark. Lily immediately shrank into Caleb’s arms. “Caleb, I’m so scared.” Honestly, so was I. But I was too proud to cling to Liam. I just gripped his hand tightly, my steps quick and nervous. Sensing the sweat on my palm, Liam squeezed my hand. “Slow down. We’ll get out.” I nodded, but a cold draft on the back of my neck made me hurry anyway. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream from Lily echoed from around a corner. I jumped, and Liam pulled me back, into his arms. The chilling cold vanished, replaced by the solid warmth of his body. “Shh…” His warm breath grazed my ear. I think his lips might have brushed against my skin. “The ‘ghost’ is over there. You almost ran right into him.” Lily was sobbing hysterically now. I forgot all about being proper and just clung to Liam’s waist. “Don’t let him come over here, please, don’t let him come over here…” I think Liam might have chuckled. “Okay.” The sound of rattling chains seemed to be getting closer. Liam gently pressed my head against his chest and said to the actor, “Hey man, can you give us a break? My girlfriend’s a little scared.” The actor let out a frustrated roar, then dragged his chains away, muttering under his breath. Even after he was gone, Liam didn’t let go. I could hear the frantic beating of both our hearts, mingled with our soft, warm breaths. I finally realized how close we were. “Can you walk?” Liam’s voice was a low murmur, almost a whisper. My face was burning. I started to let go. “I’m sorry… I…” He tightened his grip. “Nothing to be sorry about.” His words were like a feather, settling gently on my heart. His palm felt impossibly hot against mine. I looked up and met Caleb’s eyes across the narrow passage. His expression was dark, unreadable. Then he looked away. The rest of the way, the actors left us alone, but Lily’s screams continued to punctuate the darkness. Liam led me out, shaken but unscathed. I had some dust on my arm, so I went to the restroom to clean up. Lily followed me in. “Chloe, why have you been ignoring me?” In the bright light of the restroom, I saw that she had dressed up today, wearing a cute, photo-ready dress. She was looking at me with big, wounded eyes. I dried my hands and turned to leave. Suddenly, her voice rose. “Chloe, were we ever really friends?” “I thought you would be happy for us.” That hit a nerve. I turned back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lily, have you lost your mind?” She looked stung. “I know you have a crush on Caleb, but you didn’t get into the same university as us! I had to watch him for you every day. Of course I was going to fall for him…” “Then why did you push me to confess?” “Because I couldn’t hold my feelings in anymore! I never meant for us to get together, but he just came over and kissed me, and you know I can’t say no—” “Enough!” I cut her off. “You’re innocent, you’re weak, you can’t say no when someone confesses to you, you can’t resist a piece of cake you know will hurt you. And in the end, I’m the one who has to deal with the consequences. How dare you ask me to be your friend?” Lily just stared at me, her eyes red, silent. We heard Caleb’s voice from outside. “Lily, are you ready?” She wiped her tears and whispered, “It’s all my fault. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll break up with him, okay?” Then she pushed the door open and ran out.

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I was with Asher for ten years. I even had his favorite flower, the gardenia, tattooed over my collarbone. He finally agreed to marry me, only to keep an 18-year-old girl on the side. In the days leading up to our wedding, he indulged her in a “breakup countdown.” He took her skydiving, skiing, to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. But what he didn’t know was that I didn’t have long to live. I booked a flight out of the country, donated every penny he had to his name, and had the tattoo lasered off. For every day he counted down to our wedding, I was counting down the days to leaving him forever. 1 The day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, the little girl Asher was keeping on the side came to find me. “I know I’m the other woman.” Her opening line was terrifyingly sincere. She bit her lip. “Ma’am, I know you’re about to get married, but—” “Asher doesn’t love you anymore.” “I’ve been with him for a year. We’ve slept together seventy-eight times. Fifty-three times in hotels, twenty-one at my place.” Her voice dropped, laced with a cruel sort of triumph. “And four times at your place. In your bed.” She looked me straight in the eye. “If Asher still loved you, I wouldn’t even exist.” I almost had to laugh. I lit a cigarette, watching her through the haze of smoke. “What else? Go on.” She pulled out her phone and played a video. The angle was discreet, clearly filmed in secret. The girl, Janice, was curled up in Asher’s arms, sobbing. “Even if you have to marry her out of duty, can you please not leave me?” Asher pushed her away and tossed a credit card onto the table. “Find a decent guy. Being with me is no good for you. It’s too dangerous.” “I don’t want to!” She wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice a sweet, pleading whine. “I’m not afraid of danger.” “Please, don’t get rid of me.” “Asher, I’ll never be a liability to you. I swear.” Asher froze. His gaze swept over her face, and for a moment, he seemed lost in a memory. Then, he leaned in and kissed her. 2 I stubbed out my cigarette. The girl was eighteen, her face brimming with the soft glow of youth. Pure innocence. And I knew, the moment I saw her. She looked just like me. Just like the eighteen-year-old Elara. “You were right about one thing,” I said, my voice steady. “If Asher still loved me, you wouldn’t exist.” I pushed myself up from the chair. A sharp pain lanced through my abdomen, but I braced myself against the tabletop, careful not to let it show. “But let me give you a piece of advice: don’t fall too deep. Asher doesn’t love you. And he doesn’t love me, either.” “He only loves the memory of Elara.” The innocent, beautiful girl who died a long time ago on the bloody path he climbed to the top. “In a few years, he’ll find a new replacement, and you’ll end up worse off than me.” That was a lie, of course. I was already dying. How could she possibly have it worse than me? The worst she’d face was being tossed aside when Asher finally got bored. 3 I was eighteen when I got with Asher. I grew up without a mom or a dad; the grandmother who raised me passed away when I was fifteen. That’s when Asher appeared. He pursued me relentlessly, throwing money at me like it was nothing, acting as if he wanted to lay the entire world at my feet. Asher was handsome, and he gave me a sense of security I’d never known. I fell hard and fast. On my nineteenth birthday, he coaxed me into bed. That night was a blur of pain that slowly melted into pleasure. We became one. The very next day, Asher took me to meet his crew. I’d never been in that kind of scene before, and I clung to his sleeve, shyly mumbling greetings as he introduced me. Their eyes raked over me, full of amusement and disdain. “Asher, where’d you find this little doll?” “Too sweet. She’ll just be dead weight.” Back then, I had no idea what “dead weight” really meant. I couldn’t help but whisper a defense, “I won’t.” “I’ll never be a liability to Asher.” I swore it. But as I was slowly drawn into Asher’s world, I began to understand the life he led. It was a life lived on a knife’s edge. To avoid dragging him down, to be able to stand by his side, I had no choice but to force myself to adapt. Ten years. I cut my hair short, dyed it, started smoking, got tattoos. My body became a roadmap of scars. My ruthlessness earned me a place as his second-in-command in the city’s underbelly. But Asher never seemed happy about it. Countless nights, he’d hold me close, his fingers tracing the scars on my skin before kissing each one. “Elara.” He’d bury his face in my chest and sigh. “I miss the girl you used to be.” And every time, after a moment of stunned silence, I would push him away and light a cigarette. I’d laugh, a bitter, smoky sound. “Asher, you say that like you have a goddamn soul.” 4 Asher came home in the dead of night. I was lying in bed, wide awake, staring into the darkness. He slipped under the covers and pulled me into his arms. “Still awake?” He leaned down to kiss me, but I turned my head away. He paused, then reined in his temper and held me tighter. “Who pissed you off? Tell me and I’ll go take care of them, okay?” “Asher.” “Yeah?” The room was so dark I couldn’t see his face. But I could smell it on him. The cloying scent of gardenias. “Let’s break up.” Asher’s body went rigid. He released me, rolling onto his back. “What is it now?” He rubbed his temples, his voice thick with irritation. “You’re not a kid anymore. What’s with the drama?” “Break up?” He scoffed. “Elara, you’re not getting any younger. Who’s going to marry a woman who smokes, drinks, has tattoos, and is tougher than most men?” A sharp pain pierced my chest. I pressed my hand to my heart, but the ache wouldn’t subside. Last year, I’d needed twelve stitches in my arm. I had an allergy to anesthetics, so they stitched me up raw. I bit down on my teeth and didn’t make a sound. But a few careless words from a drunk Asher were enough to make my eyes burn. “Asher,” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “if I were terminally ill, would you…” “Elara.” He cut me off, his impatience flaring. “Don’t ask such pointless questions.” “If you were really dying, I’d kill myself right alongside you, alright?” He rubbed his brow again. “I’m swamped with the wedding and business right now. I don’t have the energy to coddle you. Stop acting out.” Just then, his phone buzzed. Asher irritably declined the call. It rang again. After a few rounds of this, he finally got out of bed and answered it. “What?” A girl’s crying filtered through the receiver, faint and distorted. Asher swore under his breath. “Such a goddamn pain.” But even as he complained, he was already pulling on his clothes. “Something came up with business. I have to go deal with it.” “Get some sleep. Don’t wait up for me.” 5 Our wedding was set for the third of next month. A simple ceremony. I never told Asher about my diagnosis. It was terminal. There was no cure. I also never told him that I had no intention of marrying him. I could accept everything about Asher. Everything except betrayal. The thought of him holding another woman, kissing her face, searching her features for the ghost of my younger self, made my stomach churn with nausea. I got with Asher when I was eighteen. It had been exactly ten years. Now, the doctor was telling me I had maybe six months left. By that math, I’d wasted nearly half my life on him. With what little time I had left… I just wanted to be Elara. I booked a flight out of the country. I wanted to see the world I loved but had never had the chance to explore, while I still had the strength. The ticket was for the third of next month. 6 In the morning, I crossed another day off the calendar. Ten days left until I was gone. The front door opened behind me. Asher strode in, bringing a gust of winter air with him. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He still hated my short hair. His eyes followed mine to the calendar, to the date circled heavily in red. A smile touched his lips as he gently pinched my cheek. “Can’t wait to marry me, huh?” He counted the days. “Ten days left.” He buried his face in my neck. “How about I make some time in the next couple of days to take you to get your hair dyed back to black? Maybe get some extensions?” “You’d look beautiful at the wedding.” “No need.” I stared blankly at the calendar. “It’s only a few more days.” “Short hair is fine.” Asher was quiet for a long moment. “Alright.” He let me go and picked up his jacket from the chair. “Things are crazy with the wedding. And Leo’s place got trashed yesterday. I’m going to be busy, so I won’t be back for a while.” He watched me as he spoke. As if he was waiting for me to back down. Waiting for me to say, Okay, let’s go dye my hair. Let’s get extensions. But I just met his gaze with a cool indifference. “Go.” “After all, there are only ten days left.” Asher didn’t say another word. He turned and walked out into the night. He didn’t look back. 7 Seven days until the wedding. I went to a tattoo shop on the outskirts of the city. The owner was a woman in her thirties. She was well-maintained, but her eyes held a world of weariness. She glanced at me. “What can I get for you?” I rolled up my sleeve, pointing to the ‘A.V.’ on my wrist, then revealed the gardenia below my collarbone. “I want them gone.” She studied them. “It’ll hurt. A lot. And it’s going to scar.” I smiled. “I’m not afraid.” Pain was the one thing I wasn’t afraid of anymore. As for scars… My body was already covered in them. What were two more? Besides, in six months, this body would probably be nothing but a pile of ash anyway. We chatted as she set up. “Breakup?” I smirked. “Yeah. Soon.” “Seven days.” She let out a low whistle. “That’s some ceremony. A countdown to a breakup?” Maybe it was the quiet of the shop, or maybe I just felt a connection with her. The moment I saw her, I felt like we were kindred spirits. I told her about the past. When Asher was chasing me, I gave him a deadline. Three hundred days. If he could stick it out, I’d be his. So, every morning when he showed up, he’d count down the days. “One hundred and seventy-nine days left.” “Elara, ninety-six more days until you’re my girlfriend.” “One day left, future girlfriend.” … The boy who chased me for three hundred days, rain or shine… Had slowly grown tired of me over the last ten years. I felt comfortable talking to her. As the laser worked its painful magic, I told her what the tattoos meant. The ‘A.V.’ on my wrist—for Asher Vaughn—I got a year after we got together. I’d been kidnapped by his rivals, used as bait to lure him into a trap. Asher came alone to save me. He knew it was a death trap, but he didn’t hesitate. He was almost hacked to death that day. When he got out of the hospital, I went straight to a tattoo parlor and had his initials permanently etched into my skin. I was so naive back then. I thought, Asher is the one. For the rest of my life. But that night, when I proudly showed him my still-red and swollen wrist, he just stared. There was no trace of the emotion I’d expected. He frowned, asking me why I did it, if it hurt. Finally, he pulled me into his arms. “Don’t do this again. I don’t like it.” “I don’t like seeing you hurt yourself.” “You’re perfect the way you are. I like the clean, flawless Elara.” I was young then, and I thought he was just worried about me. I never imagined he was already telling me exactly what he wanted. The gardenia on my chest, I got that when Asher swore he would marry me by the time I was twenty-eight. Gardenias were his favorite. He loved their pure, untainted white. So I had one tattooed over my heart. Waiting for him to marry me. Now, he had finally set a wedding date in my twenty-eighth year. He was planning a wedding seven days from now. And I was planning my escape. Even though this body was already broken, I didn’t want to leave with any marks of his on me. I pointed to the other side of my collarbone. “Here,” I told the artist. “I want a trumpet vine.” Asher loved the gardenia. But I had always loved the trumpet vine. He wanted me to be pure and flawless. But in the last days of my life, I was going to be the trumpet vine, beautiful and defiant, climbing any wall I chose. 8 It was evening when I left the tattoo shop. The owner and I had really hit it off. We exchanged numbers and added each other on social media. Her name was Rhea. On the way home, I passed a small stand selling cotton candy. I couldn’t help but stop. The last time I’d had it was when I was a child, before my grandmother passed away. Whenever I’d be so captivated by the fluffy clouds of sugar that I couldn’t walk away, she’d empty her pockets of loose change to buy one for me. She’d watch me eat the whole thing, then lovingly scold me, “You little sweet tooth.” My grandmother always loved to see me smile. It made the wrinkles on her old, kind face deepen. A cold wind blew, scattering the memory. I walked up to the stand and bought a cotton candy rabbit. It was so sweet. Just as cloyingly sweet as I remembered. As I rounded a corner, I heard a little girl’s high-pitched voice. “Mommy, look! That lady is so cool! But why is she eating cotton candy?” “Isn’t that for kids?” Her mother laughed softly. “Who says only kids can eat cotton candy? Anyone can. A little bit of sugar can make you feel happier.” I walked past them, my heels clicking on the pavement. I heard the girl’s innocent voice again. “But Mommy… she ate all that sweet cotton candy, but she doesn’t look happy at all.” “Mommy, that lady looks so lonely…” Her voice faded into the distance. By the time I got home, the cotton candy was gone, leaving only a sticky residue on my hands. I went inside and washed them. Just then, my phone rang. It was Asher. He sounded drunk. “Elara.” “I’m here.” He chuckled on the other end. “Seven days left. You’re going to be my wife.” “Tomorrow. I’ll take you to pick out a dress?” “You can just pick one. You know my size.” There was a long silence on his end. Faintly, I could hear a girl’s coquettish voice in the background. “Ash, let me go with you to try on dresses. Don’t you want to see what I look like in a wedding gown?” 9 A long moment passed. Asher’s voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Okay.” I couldn’t tell if he was answering me, or the girl beside him. I woke up. I crossed yesterday off the calendar with a thick, dark line. Six days left. Today, I was going to a concert. I got dressed, did my makeup. My body ached all over, a dull, persistent throb, but I could manage. In the full-length mirror, a woman in a short skirt—the kind Asher hated—stared back at me. Her limbs were slender, her smile serene. She had finally made peace with the ugly scars that littered her body. And there, just below her right collarbone… A trumpet vine bloomed. The stadium was packed, a sea of thousands of roaring fans. I sang along with the crowd, my voice raw and loud: “I’m the proud destruction, of the ordinary I despise, only to remember it’s what I loved the most.” I must have been lost in the music, because it wasn’t until the song ended that I felt the sharp, gnawing pain inside me again. I gripped the armrest, trying to steady myself. Suddenly, a carton of milk appeared in front of me. My stomach felt like it was being twisted by knives. I looked up to see a young, unfamiliar face. The boy was wearing a cream-colored puffer jacket and smiling kindly at me. “Stomach ache? The milk is warm. You can have it.” I took it, the warmth seeping into my cold hands. “Thank you.” We were in between songs. The boy shook his head. “It’s nothing. My girlfriend loves helping people. She’d be happy to know I gave it to you.” I glanced at the empty seat beside him. “She couldn’t make it to the concert?” He smiled, but his eyes were instantly filled with a winter frost. “She passed away.” “I’m here for her.” The milk I’d just swallowed felt like a stone in my throat. “I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay.” The music started again, and everyone turned their attention back to the stage. It was time for the lucky fan drawing. The massive screens flashed through rows and rows of faces. The moment the screen froze… I saw myself. The camera operator must have thought the boy and I were a couple. People around us started shouting for us to kiss. The boy quickly pulled a photo from his jacket and held it up to the camera. It was his girl. A microphone was thrust into my hand, and for a moment, I was speechless. Finally, I looked at the singer on stage, an artist I’d admired for years, and said softly, “I hope more and more people get to see you, to love your music.” “I hope you all find even greater success.” “I don’t really know what else to say, so… to everyone here tonight—” “I wish you all a long and happy life.” Some people in the crowd chuckled, probably wondering why my wish was so plain and ordinary. The camera quickly cut away. As the melody of the next song began, I saw the boy next to me gently tracing the outline of the girl in the photo. His eyes were red as he whispered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. “And I wish my Suzie a long and happy life, too.” In that moment… For some reason… I felt an overwhelming urge to cry. 10 The concert ended. I forced myself to make it home. I’d forgotten to close the window this morning, and the apartment was bone-chillingly cold. I shut the window, took off my makeup, and collapsed onto the bed. I opened up a social media app, scrolling aimlessly, when a video from a “person you might know” popped up. The user ID was “Janice S.” In the video, the young girl was dressed in a pristine white wedding gown. The face of the man whose arm she held was blurred out. Her eyes were a mix of youthful innocence and raw ambition. “Countdown: 6 days until my boyfriend marries someone else!” “Holding onto you for these last few days. I wish this moment could last forever.” In the frame, Asher gently held the girl’s waist. His touch was tender. 11 Five days left. I was feeling relatively energetic today. I got up early and took care of something important. I donated every last cent of Asher’s money that he’d put in my name. An eight-figure sum. Gone. Asher might have betrayed me emotionally, but he’d been completely open with his finances. For years, he’d transferred almost everything he earned to me, keeping only enough for daily expenses. As a final touch, I made the donation in his name. After all, it was his money. Might as well earn him some good karma. As for my own savings, I donated half and kept the other half for myself. Knowing your life is about to end is an incredibly painful thing. So I needed to make sure I didn’t add to the pain by running out of money before I ran out of time. But… The moment I walked out of the charity foundation’s doors, my vision went black, and I collapsed. I woke up in a hospital bed. A nurse told me they’d tried calling my emergency contact multiple times from my phone, but no one had answered. My only emergency contact was Asher. “I’m sorry. I’ll go downstairs to pay the bill in a minute.” The doctor, his face grim, urged me to be admitted. “If you don’t start treatment now, you might not even make it six months.” I managed a weak smile. “And if I do get treatment?” “I can’t guarantee how the disease will progress, but I can guarantee that as long as there’s a sliver of hope, we will do everything we can.” Basically, even with treatment, the chances were slim. “Thank you, doctor.” “But could you please help me with the discharge papers?” As soon as I left his office, Asher called. “Sorry, I was busy. Didn’t hear the phone.” “What’s up?” My eyes fell on a familiar figure at the other end of the hallway. “Nothing. I lost my phone, and a kind stranger called my emergency contact.” “Good, as long as you’re okay. The wedding’s almost here. Is there anything you need?” “No.” Another stretch of silence. I could hear Janice’s impatient whine on his end. “Hurry up, the ice cream is melting.” Asher spoke again. “Call me if you need anything.” The line went dead. I frowned, my gaze fixed on the person down the hall. It was Rhea, the owner of the tattoo shop. She was bending over to pick up a wig that a passing child had knocked off her head. As she looked up, our eyes met. “You?” She clearly recognized me. She adjusted the crooked wig on her head. “Didn’t get a chance to tell you last time, but we’re in the same boat. Two short-timers.” “I was actually planning on closing the shop for good that day,” she said with a wry smile. “You were the last customer of my career.” “What is it?” I asked. “Leukemia.” She shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. “No cure.” We walked out of the hospital together. I pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered her one, and we stood in the biting wind, struggling to light them for each other. Our eyes met. And suddenly, we both burst out laughing. Two goddamn unlucky souls. We laughed, watching the smoke dissolve into the wind, just like our own impending ends. 12 I changed my flight. No more trip abroad. Rhea and I booked tickets to Oregon together. My body couldn’t handle the long flight across the Atlantic anymore. Maybe it was fate. Maybe I was never meant to see that ocean view. The two of us, both on borrowed time, had the same idea. We wanted to see the ocean. Last night, Janice posted a new video. “Countdown: 5 days. Thank you for facing your fears to go skydiving with me.” “I love you too.” In the video, Asher and Janice were strapped together, standing on a platform hundreds of feet in the air. They leaped, wrapped in an embrace. His body was stiff, a clear sign of his fear of heights. But as they fell, he still managed to scream. “I love you!” “Janice!” But if you listened closely, the last word he shouted wasn’t Janice. It was Elara. 13 Four days until the wedding. Rhea asked me if there was anything else I wanted to do. I thought for a moment, then asked her to come with me to see someone. On the way, Rhea asked, “Is she a friend of yours?” I shook my head. “Quite the opposite. She’s my… mortal enemy, I guess.” Rhea raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. She even stopped with me at a flower shop to order a bouquet. Mara ran the East Docks. She was the toughest woman in that part of the city. She controlled a half-dozen bars and was as ruthless with herself as she was with others. We’d been fighting for control for years. Neither of us ever came out on top. The moment Rhea and I walked into her main bar, we were stopped. “Elara?” Mara was called out from the back. She frowned at me. “What are you doing here again?” “Came to call you an old hag.” Her face instantly darkened. Then she let loose a string of curses. We stood there and traded insults for a solid half hour. By the end, I felt fantastic. I grabbed a nearby bottle, took a swig of whiskey, and was about to take another when Rhea stopped me. “Just a taste is enough.” I sighed and put it down. I gave Mara a wave. “Alright, I’m leaving.” “You should tone down the fighting and killing. Settle down a bit.” “Otherwise, where are you going to find the energy to chase after pretty boys?” I was already out the door when I heard Mara’s bewildered voice. “What the hell? Did she come here just to yell at me for thirty minutes?” “Seriously, is she insane?” I turned back just in time to see her kick one of her guys. “I didn’t lose that argument, did I? I wasn’t really on my game today.” I laughed and kept walking. Maybe it was because I was dying, but even my years-long rival seemed kind of adorable. On the way home, my phone vibrated. Mara had sent me a picture of a bouquet of roses. “You sent these??” “Yeah.” She was silent for nearly two minutes, then a flood of messages came through. Mara: “What’s the meaning of this?” Mara: “Only little girls like flowers. You think I give a damn about this crap?” Mara: “You didn’t hide a bomb in there, did you?” Mara: “Elara, don’t think sending me flowers smooths things over between us.” Mara: “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten flowers in my life.” Mara: “They’re actually pretty nice… Thanks.” Mara: “Let’s get dinner sometime.” I looked at my phone and smiled, slowly typing out a reply: “Yeah, if there’s a chance.” 14 That evening, Janice posted again. “Only 4 days left. I don’t want this to end…” “Skiing together. I love how you protect me. You’re like the father I never had.” In the video, Janice falls in the snow. Someone skis down from above, and Asher throws himself over her, shielding her with his body. The videos had been gaining traction over the past few days, and a lot of people were following along. 【omg whyyyy, why do people who love each other have to be apart?】 【His body language is screaming that he loves her, so why is he marrying someone else? Is it an arranged marriage?】 【God, my heart breaks for her. She looks like she’s always holding back tears.】 【Seriously, are you shippers brainless? The guy is about to get married and he’s doing a ‘breakup countdown’ with his ex. He’s trash and she’s a homewrecker. They deserve each other. Feel bad for the bride.】 The comment section was a warzone. But mostly, it was full of people waiting to see how the drama would unfold in four days. I had no patience for their melodrama. I swiped past the video. And gave a ‘like’ to the next video of a hot guy dancing. 15 Three days left. I treated the crew to dinner. They had no idea what was going on; they just assumed it was my bachelorette party. Bottle after bottle was emptied, and the mood grew rowdier. Everyone reminisced about the old days. Someone brought up Asher and me. “Seriously, Ash loves you so much. For real.” The speaker was rail-thin but was nicknamed “Tiny.” “One time, he got wasted and just cried for hours. He said he hated himself for not protecting you. He said sometimes he’s scared to even come home because seeing you reminds him… that he’s the one who turned you into this.” He sighed. “But… but I thought about it for a long time, and I think you should know.” “Elara, Ash is keeping a girl on the side. He…” Someone kicked him under the table. “Dude, how much have you had to drink?” “Ma’am, Tiny’s drunk. I’m gonna take him home. You guys keep going…” Tiny was dragged away. No one else believed him; they all just thought he was drunk and talking nonsense. The table erupted in a chorus of stories about how much Asher loved me. Someone, emboldened by alcohol, even called him. “What’s up? Spit it out.” Asher’s voice came through on speakerphone, sharp and clipped, but with a slight upward tilt at the end of his words. My heart clenched. I knew that tone all too well. It was the sound he made right after sex. “Elara’s treating us to dinner! We haven’t seen you in forever!” everyone chimed in. “Ash, you busy right now? Come have a drink with us!” Asher was silent for a couple of seconds. “I’ve got something here. You guys go ahead.” “Take care of Elara.” “And don’t let her drink too much. When you’re done, make sure a couple of you see her home safely, you hear me?” After he hung up, the guys all sighed dreamily. “See, Elara? Ash is always thinking about you.” “We’re so sick of being the third wheel to you guys!” I didn’t say anything. I took a sip of juice. It was room temperature, but it still sent a pang of pain through my stomach. I hadn’t brought my painkillers. The pain became unbearable, so I stepped outside for some air. I didn’t realize until I was out that it had started to snow. Leaning against a lamppost, I found myself, against my better judgment, opening Janice’s social media page. Maybe it was hearing so much about Asher just now, but in that moment, I had a desperate need to know what they were doing. Five minutes ago, Janice had posted a new video. He and she were standing side by side, the brilliant aurora dancing in the sky above them. “Breakup countdown: three days left! He flew us to Iceland overnight just to make my wish of seeing the Northern Lights come true.” “The lights are beautiful, but not as beautiful as him.” “But what can I do? Soon he won’t be mine anymore… Whatever. Universe, don’t worry about me, just make him happy.” “I’ll be okay.” In just five minutes, the video already had thousands of likes and was climbing fast. 【I’m crying. ‘Universe, don’t worry about me, just make them happy.’】 【For the first time ever, I actually hate the fiancée. Did she save his entire family or something?】 【Ugh, a pair of scumbags, and a comment section full of idiots. (To anyone who wants to reply: I already bought a resurrection pass for my family, my front and back cameras are broken, my pee is matte, I don’t own any mirrors, and please present your parents’ death certificates before insulting me.)】 I stared at the aurora in the video, so dazzlingly beautiful. I suddenly remembered when I was nineteen, curled up in Asher’s arms, watching a travel show with envy. “Asher, when you make a lot of money, will you take me to see the Northern Lights too?” “Of course.” “I promise I’ll take you one day.” A snowflake landed on my eyelash, blurring my vision. I blinked, and it melted. But the girl holding his hand, watching the aurora… that wasn’t the nineteen-year-old Elara.

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I dated Jaxon when I was younger. Three months, then we were done. He said I was too much of a good girl, no fun to mess around with. I tried shadowing my best friend, who was deep in her edgy phase. After two weeks, she blew a perfect smoke ring in my face and told me to just stick to the books. I didn’t have the “bad girl” gene. I accepted my fate. After a period of deep reflection on my youthful foolishness and the flawed belief that “love is all you need,” I decisively found myself a rich kid. His name was Marty. He was rich, generous, and handsome. His only flaw was a long list of exes and a flock of female “friends.” The moment Marty’s engagement ring was on my finger, I received a sonogram from one of his closest “friends.” She was eight weeks pregnant. I sat in the coffee shop, thinking long and hard, before finally saying with the utmost sincerity, “My love for Marty is simply too deep. I can’t bring myself to leave him.” “Why don’t you have the baby? I may be young, but I don’t mind being a stepmother.” 1 I swear, I was being completely genuine when I said that. But I think his friend, Isabelle, took it as sarcasm. Seeing that I wouldn’t leave Marty on my own, she started recounting their history. How they went to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower, climbed snow-capped mountains together, celebrated New Year’s Eve side-by-side. How Marty would be on a video call with me, telling me he missed me, only to hang up and fall into bed with her seconds later. Isabelle was a fantastic storyteller; I felt like I was listening to a beautifully written, poetic novel. After about fifteen minutes of this, I glanced at my watch and politely interrupted her. “I’m so sorry, but I have to get back to work.” The look on her face was priceless. She just stared at me, utterly speechless. I put on my coat, wrapped my scarf around my neck, and stood up to leave. “Are you really that shameless? Clinging to Marty like this? You, a woman whose entire style screams ‘wife material.’ Do you honestly think a guy like Marty, who’s seen countless beautiful women, would ever truly be interested in you?” Her voice was sharp, and the previously buzzing coffee shop fell silent. I stopped and turned back to look at her. Her expression was twisted with anger. But a beautiful woman is still beautiful, even when her face is contorted in a sneer. Far more beautiful than me. I smiled, but in the end, I didn’t say a word. 2 It was true, I didn’t want to break up with Marty. After all, of all the men I knew, he was the best overall package. His family was wealthy, he had a cheerful personality, and he was generous with me. Aside from being a player, he had no other faults. But what rich man isn’t a player? He could party, fool around, and have his female “confidantes.” It didn’t matter. As long as I was his official girlfriend, the woman he wanted to marry, that was enough. I had a very clear understanding of my own value. If I broke up with Marty, I’d never find another man in his league. Stepping into the elevator, I examined my reflection in the polished steel doors. A knit scarf, a mid-length wool coat, and a pair of snow boots. My entire outfit screamed “plain and simple.” I was miles away from fashionable, a perfect match for the internet’s stereotype of a “wife material” girl. I thought of my best friend Maya’s assessment of me: “You’re too quiet, too straight-laced. You’ll never be the kind of bad girl who can wrap a man around her finger.” “You’re a bookworm who can’t think outside the box. The best you can hope for is to land a safe government job. You’ll never be some high-flying career woman.” “If you ever want to change your life, your only shot is to play the ‘good woman’ card. While you’re still young and have the looks, find a rich man.” “A rich heir is fine, a self-made millionaire works too. Be his comfort, cater to his every need. But most importantly, you have to be gracious. You have to be virtuous.” “But you need to hurry. A woman’s prime years are fleeting. Once you’re older, it won’t matter how gentle or considerate or gracious you are; no rich man will give you a second look.” Thinking of this, I looked down at the ring on my middle finger and sighed. My only hope now was that nothing else went wrong before the wedding. Once I was married to Marty, I could accept a secret son or daughter. But sometimes, the thing you fear the most is exactly what comes to find you. 3 Just before the end of the workday, I got a message from Marty. He sent me an address, telling me to come over. A get-together with friends; he wanted to introduce me. This had never happened before. There were certain things Marty and I both understood without ever saying them aloud. We weren’t from the same world. Our lifestyles were completely different. Marty kept his world split into two distinct halves. When he wanted to play, he partied with his childhood friends, bringing along this girl or that one, living life on his own terms. When he was tired of playing, he came back to me, to enjoy my devoted care. Did he love me? Of course not. But he couldn’t leave me. That’s why, even though my background was average and I didn’t know how to dress, there were moments he would impulsively want to marry me. But that was all it was. He would never introduce me to his friends, never let me into his circle. Because in his eyes, I wasn’t presentable. And I was always smart enough never to ask to meet them. After all, while I was fully aware that I was reaching above my station with Marty and had accepted my subordinate role, I had no desire to become the subject of their gossip, to give them the chance to look down on me to my face. On this point, Marty and I had always had a tacit understanding. But today, he broke it. 4 I rushed to the restaurant. The heating was cranked up high, so I had to take off my coat and scarf, draping them over my arm as I followed the waiter through a maze of corridors. We finally stopped outside a private room. I stood at the door, took a deep breath, and mentally prepared myself before pushing it open. It turned out, my mental preparation was not nearly enough. The room was buzzing with a crowd of young men and women. The first person I saw wasn’t my boyfriend, Marty. It was Jaxon, standing at the center of it all. My first love. He was as devastatingly handsome as I remembered, a single diamond stud in his left ear, radiating an aura of untamed rebellion. Jaxon. Jaxon. I mouthed his name twice, a silent, ghost of a word on my lips, then calmly tore my gaze away to find Marty. He was in a corner booth, laughing and talking with a woman. In the middle of their playful banter, she reached up and tapped Marty’s forehead with her knuckles. It was intimate. Sweet. I knew who she was. Marty’s childhood best friend. They’d grown up together, their bond incredibly close. If I had to describe it, it was more than friends, but not quite lovers. I understood. Sometimes you know someone too well to cross that line, afraid you might lose the friendship altogether. I was rather glad they never got together. Otherwise, where would there be room for me in this game of love? I stood by the door for a long moment, completely ignored. A familiar sense of helplessness began to creep up from my bones. I felt like I was eighteen again, excitedly going to a bar to find Jaxon, only to be hit with a wave of alienation and despair the moment I opened the door to his private room. I was hit with the profound realization that I was not, and had never been, a part of their world. Back then, I forced myself not to care because I loved Jaxon. Now, I forced myself not to care because I loved money. I quietly made my way to Marty’s side and tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes landed on me. I saw the smile in them fade just a little. I put on a gentle, serene smile of my own, brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and said in a soft voice, “Sorry, I had to work late.” He finally snapped out of it, taking my hand in his and rubbing it. He frowned slightly. “Is the heat not on high enough? Why are your hands so cold?” “It’s probably just the temperature difference. My body hasn’t adjusted. Are you cold?” I said, trying to pull my hand back. Marty instinctively tightened his grip. “I’m worried you’ll catch a chill.” The noisy room had somehow quieted down. The atmosphere hung thick and strange for a few seconds before someone spoke up, their voice dripping with amusement. “Marty, is this your mythical girlfriend we never get to see? Now that she’s finally graced us with her presence, aren’t you going to introduce her?” I followed the voice to its source. The speaker was a guy in a flashy baseball jacket, slouched next to Jaxon, looking every bit the troublemaker. Jaxon was leaning back lazily, fiddling with a lighter in his hand. Click, flick. Click, flick. His signature move when he was annoyed. Marty stood up, wrapping an arm around my waist and leading me toward the group. “Alright, everyone, this is Clara. My girlfriend.” “Girlfriend? She’s wearing a ring. When are we getting an invitation to the wedding?” someone with sharp eyes pointed out, laughing. My hand clenched into a fist, then quickly relaxed. Marty’s body tensed for a second before he recovered. “As soon as you guys have your wedding gifts ready, I’m ready to get married.” Someone was about to tease us more, but Marty stepped in to defend me. “She’s shy. You can joke with me all you want, but leave her out of it.” This, of course, only made them louder. Marty was pulled away by his friends for a round of drinks. With nothing to do, I sat quietly in the corner, playing on my phone. Though there wasn’t much to play. I didn’t watch reality TV, didn’t play games, didn’t read novels, and didn’t scroll through short videos. I liked to just zone out, but in such a lively atmosphere, it felt inappropriate. So I started to eat. Slowly, in small bites, I ate the pastries from the coffee table. I hadn’t had dinner yet, and I was actually a little hungry. I sat in that room for two hours and nineteen minutes. I ate a plate of green bean cakes, three cherry tomatoes, and drank two glasses of juice. The entire time, a pair of eyes were fixed on my back. But I never once turned around. 5 It was past midnight when the party finally broke up. Marty had been forced to drink too much and was stumbling. Several girls tried to help him, but Marty waved them away, finally choosing his childhood best friend to support him. As for me, I was in charge of his coat and car keys, ready to be the perfect designated driver. Halfway to the door, Marty turned back dazedly and called my name. “Clara…” I answered softly, “I’m here.” When we reached the parking garage, I opened the back door of the car and watched his friend struggle to get him inside. I said my goodbyes to the others. Once I was in the driver’s seat, ready to start the engine, my eyes happened to glance at the two coats on the passenger seat. I realized I’d forgotten my scarf. But his friend had already closed her door and was waiting for me to drive. Whatever. It wasn’t anything valuable. If it was gone, it was gone. Before leaving, I couldn’t resist one last look in the rearview mirror. Jaxon was standing with his side to me, his head bowed as he lit a cigarette, a cold, unapproachable aura surrounding him. I pulled my eyes away and gave a small, silent smirk. A mockery of the naive girl I used to be. 6 The car pulled into the garage of Marty’s family home. I had planned to stay and take care of him, but the house had plenty of staff. There was really no need for me. His friend also gently implied that Marty’s parents preferred a sensible, discreet girl. Since Marty hadn’t officially brought me home to meet them yet, I should know my place. So at two in the morning, I discreetly stood outside the gates of the luxurious gated community, freezing for half an hour until my rideshare finally arrived. God bless big cities, you can even get a ride in the middle of the night. But forgetting my scarf was a disaster. The winter wind was biting, and I was nearly frozen solid. It was three a.m. by the time I got back to my apartment building. I dragged my exhausted body to my door. As the elevator doors opened, I fumbled for my keys. A thick smell of smoke hit my nose. My tired brain sluggishly wondered if someone’s apartment was on fire. Then I saw him. A tall man standing in front of my door. The floor around his feet was littered with cigarette butts. A red ember glowed between his long fingers. In his other hand, he was holding my lost scarf. 7 I never really imagined what it would be like to see Jaxon again. When I was younger, I thought he had broken my heart. It’s no exaggeration to say my world had ended. I was a zombie, with no will to live. But time passes, and you realize it was just a small thing, a simple case of “I love you, you don’t love me.” In the grand scheme of things—money, career, health—what isn’t more important than love? Besides, I was exhausted today. Once you pass a certain age, your body just starts to give out. These days, if I go to bed after eleven, my brain turns to mush. I can’t think straight. So I just numbly unlocked my door, numbly changed into my slippers, and numbly turned to close the door in his face. Jaxon’s hand shot out, blocking it. “We had something, you know. Not even a ‘hello’? That’s pretty rude.” His voice was hoarse, probably from all the smoking. Sometimes I think I’m just too conservative. I can’t understand this modern way of living, where people stay on good terms with their exes, message them privately, and even have a “relapse” when the mood is right. I once discussed this with Maya. As someone who had definitely slept with an ex again, she assured me it was perfectly normal. She said it was nostalgia. Like a toy you loved as a child. You grow out of it, but that doesn’t stop you from picking it up and looking at it with fond memories when you see it again. I couldn’t understand it at the time. “But shouldn’t people be faithful in a relationship?” Maya laughed at my naivety. “This era has a new definition for faithfulness. We call people who are hopelessly devoted to one person ‘love-sick fools.’ And someone like you, who gave everything to Jaxon with a sincerity that was almost laughable, we call that a ‘simp.’” Back then, to understand Jaxon’s mindset, I diligently followed Maya around for a while. She took me to all sorts of places, introduced me to all sorts of people. Unfortunately, I was never a quick learner. I could never grasp their way of life. In the end, I had to accept the truth: Jaxon and I were from different worlds. He would never slow down for me. He didn’t love me. Not one bit. In fact, he probably only got with me in the first place for a good laugh. I had clumsily followed him around, racking my brain for ways to make him happy, going to absurd lengths to be good to him. I once took a two-hour bus ride from one end of the city to the other just because he casually mentioned he was craving pork ribs, so I immediately cooked them and brought them to him. In Jaxon’s eyes, all my efforts were probably just cheap and pathetic. But what could I do? I was just an ordinary girl with no special qualities, nothing to make me stand out. The only thing I had was my heart. I reverently cut it out and offered it to Jaxon. He took it, looked it over, examined it from all angles, found it boring, and tossed it aside. And so my heart shattered. Later, I gathered the pieces and realized I had been using the wrong method. A true heart can’t be exchanged for another true heart. But it can be exchanged for money. Marty gave me plenty of feedback. Every time he found a new “friend,” he gave me an expensive gift. From jewelry to handbags. His guilt was very valuable. For example, the fact that I had to take a taxi home alone tonight would probably earn me another new handbag once Marty sobered up tomorrow. All I wanted was the handbag. I didn’t want anything to do with an ex who had hurt me so deeply. So I held the doorknob and stared at Jaxon for a long time. His expression was obscured by the haze of smoke, or maybe the light was just too dim. I couldn’t really see his face. I asked him, “Are you here to return my scarf?” He said, “No.” I nodded and carefully pushed his arm out of the doorway. This time, I was able to close the door. And lock it. 8 Marty started calling me out to hang with his friends more frequently. And, of course, Jaxon was always there. After a while, Marty would inevitably start talking about his friends. That’s how I finally learned who Jaxon was now. A hotshot rookie race car driver. The long-lost heir to the Vance family fortune. It was surreal. The Jaxon I knew was a defiant teenager who lived with his grandmother. He did love cars, but back then, he could only afford a beat-up old motorcycle to cruise around on. In our short-lived romance, the most memorable moment was probably him putting a heavy helmet on my head, telling me to wrap my arms around his waist as I sat behind him on the motorcycle, and saying he was going to take me far away. Back then, I really believed him. 9 In front of Marty’s friends, I never shied away from showing my meticulous care for him. At first, they would tease us, but after seeing it enough times, they got used to it. Whether they were secretly scornful or envious, I didn’t care to know. As for Marty’s pregnant “friend,” I don’t know how he handled it. But his attitude toward me remained the same, which put me somewhat at ease. Still, a subtle anxiety began to grow inside me. Maybe it was the almost predatory way Jaxon’s eyes were always on me, or maybe it was Marty’s lack of enthusiasm for our wedding plans. I was always worried something would change. And, of course, something did. During a weekend camping trip, Marty suddenly got a phone call. His face immediately soured. He just said he’d deal with it when he got home. A little while later, Marty announced he had an emergency and had to leave. Instantly, I felt several pairs of eyes on me. I had come in Marty’s car. If he was leaving, and I didn’t know anyone else well, I would have to go with him. But Marty was clearly in no mood to drive me home. I was thinking of just catching a ride down the mountain with him and then getting a cab from there, when I heard Jaxon speak up. “Marty, go take care of your business. I’ll give your girlfriend a ride home later.” The moment the words left his mouth, Marty casually nodded. “Alright, thanks, man.” Clearly, Marty didn’t care if I stayed or left. My movement to stand up froze, and I slowly sat back down. Before he left, Marty gave me a long, deep look. I had a strong feeling that this was it. Once he drove away, we were probably over. For the first time ever, I broke our unspoken rule and made a request. “Marty, I want to go with you.” “Be good. Listen to me,” Marty frowned, stepped on the gas, and drove off. I stood there, frozen. My phone vibrated twice. A new message. I looked down. It was from the “friend,” who had been silent for a while. She told me she had gone to see Marty’s parents, and they had agreed to let her marry him. A warm body pressed against my back. Jaxon shamelessly leaned over my shoulder to look at my phone screen and let out a lazy laugh. “She moves fast.” My eyelashes fluttered. I looked up at him. “Clara, she has a good family, a beautiful face, and now she’s carrying Marty’s child. What do you have to compete with?” “I thought you would have backed down after you two met at the coffee shop.” “You didn’t really think that just by endlessly pandering to Marty, he would actually marry you, did you?” 10 Of course Marty would marry me. If Jaxon hadn’t interfered. But now that his parents were involved, the chances of him marrying me were slim to none. I was disappointed, but there was also a sense of resigned finality. From the day I saw Jaxon again, I knew my plans wouldn’t go smoothly. I silently put my phone away, ready to pack my things and call a cab. This campsite was remote; it wouldn’t be easy to get a ride. But it didn’t matter. I would rather walk for two hours down the mountain than get into Jaxon’s passenger seat. Charging cable, water bottle, sunglasses—I shoved them all into my bag. Jaxon followed behind me, a thunderous look on his face, watching my every move. Finally, he snapped. He snatched my bag and threw it. The contents spilled everywhere. The clearing fell silent. Curious eyes darted between me and Jaxon. I glanced at the bag. A bit of a shame. It was expensive. If Jaxon hadn’t been here today, I probably would have scurried over to pick everything up. But right now, I just felt drained. “Sorry, you guys have fun. I’m heading back,” I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling. But turning and walking away empty-handed just made me look pathetic. Jaxon’s body was tense. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight. I stopped, raised my hand, and slapped him. Hard. I could hear gasps from the people around us. Jaxon’s head snapped to the side from the force, but his hand on my arm didn’t loosen. “Feel better? If not, want to do the other side?” he asked, pointing to his other cheek.

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I was on vacation in Bali when I got the urgent call to return home. It turns out, I’m not my parents’ biological daughter. My family commands a billion-dollar empire, but my adoptive mother struggled with infertility. So they adopted me, raising me as their own flesh and blood. My mother was terrified I’d feel slighted. “We looked into your birth parents, darling. They’re… not well off. If you have a hard time, you must promise to tell us.” So here I was, in my mid-twenties, heading to meet them with a heart full of complicated emotions. At their house, my biological parents were sitting on a sofa, with a girl about my age nestled between them. They greeted me with a warning. “We’ve always thought of Rina as our own daughter. The majority of our assets will be left to her. We hope you won’t get any funny ideas.” 1 I asked, with genuine curiosity, “Then why bring me back at all?” If they weren’t calling me home to inherit a fortune, was it because they thought my life was going a little too well? Mr. Vance, my biological father, snorted. “A Vance belongs with the Vances. We couldn’t let our bloodline just wander in the wild.” Whenever I’d reunite with my adoptive parents after a long time apart, they’d always have a gift ready to celebrate. My first day reuniting with my biological parents, their gift was to put me firmly in my place. Before I came, my mom had painted a tearful picture of their poverty, as if I were being sent to live in a beggar’s den. Looking around now, the Vance home was better than I expected. The girl squeezed between them had red-rimmed eyes. “Aria, I know you must have suffered so much all these years. I’ve usurped your identity, and you must be furious, but I really don’t want to leave Mom and Dad.” My biological mother hugged her, tears streaming down her face. “Rina, darling, what are you saying? In our hearts, you have always been our real daughter.” My biological father’s face was stern as he looked at me. “There’s no ‘real versus fake heiress’ drama in this family. Rina is our daughter, and she is your sister.” “We’ve poured everything into raising her to be the exceptional young woman she is. We won’t tolerate any petty scheming from you.” I watched this picture-perfect family moment, unsure of what to say. I wasn’t particularly hurt. I’m in my twenties, raised in a bubble of love and wealth. The last thing I was going to do was agonize over whether my newfound biological parents loved me. Mrs. Vance’s eyes scanned me, noticing I was empty-handed. “You’re dressed nicely enough, but you couldn’t even bring a single bag?” It took me a second to register her meaning. I shrugged. “Nothing worth bringing.” The truth was, my parents had packed so many suitcases for me that I’d arranged for our butler, Mr. Kingston, to have them all sent over later. But I’d just changed my mind. I wouldn’t be calling him just yet. Mrs. Vance’s brow furrowed at my answer. “People from simple backgrounds are always so stingy. They raised you all this time and didn’t give you a single decent thing. Don’t think you can use this as an excuse to latch onto our family.” “Whatever bad habits you picked up in your old life, you’d better leave them at the door.” Mr. Vance pulled out a credit card. “Here’s fifty thousand dollars. Consider it a thank-you to them for raising you. I expect this card to be the end of it. We don’t want them showing up here, trying to cash in on their good deed.” My eye twitched. Fifty thousand? For a family this cheap, that wasn’t even enough to bribe Mr. Kingston. 2 Footsteps echoed from the staircase. It seemed there was one more person in the house. A man in a sharp suit descended, his face a thundercloud. “Benjamin,” Rina chirped. Benjamin Vance glanced at me. “I only have one sister. And it’s Rina.” Me: “?” Mr. and Mrs. Vance said nothing. “Benjamin, dear, where are you off to?” Benjamin’s expression shifted to one of smug satisfaction. “Preston from Apex Industries and I have really been hitting it off. He invited me out to dinner.” Mr. Vance shot to his feet. “Apex Industries?!” “That’s my son! Making friends with the likes of Preston.” A smirk played on Benjamin’s lips. “And in two weeks, the Foster heir is coming back to the country. The Fosters are throwing a welcome-home banquet, and Preston promised me an invitation.” Mr. Vance’s eyes were practically glowing with excitement. “The Fosters?” Benjamin nodded proudly. The Fosters. A dynasty among dynasties. Their family had only two children, a son and a daughter. The heir Benjamin was talking about was the younger son, Caleb Foster. There were whispers of old royal blood in their family line, which had earned Caleb the nickname “The Heir.” His last name was Foster; fortune was his destiny. Father and son were still waxing poetic about the mystique and grandeur of the Foster family. My face was turning red from holding back laughter. My name is Aria Beaumont, and my adoptive family, the Beaumonts, are lifelong friends with the Fosters. The Foster heiress, Maya, and I have been joined at the hip since we were kids. And yet, I’d never heard any of these ridiculous rumors. This was hilarious. My phone vibrated. Speak of the devil. A text from The Heir himself. Caleb: Aria, I heard you’re back! It’s so boring over here. I wanna come home too. Caleb: [CryingKitty.gif] Me: Your Highness, we are blessed by your message. Caleb: ? Meanwhile, Rina was completely captivated by Benjamin’s stories, practically swooning at the thought of The Heir. Her eyes were shining. “I can’t believe someone as incredible as The Heir actually exists in this world.” Mrs. Vance nodded. “Such an outstanding young man. I wonder which family will be lucky enough to have him.” She then gave me a pointed look. “A family like the Fosters… some people will go their whole lives without ever even hearing their name.” 3 “Hahahahahaha! No, did they really say that?” Maya Foster nearly spit out her coffee. I nodded, amused. “Benjamin said he’s going to bring Rina to the banquet. Now all she can think about is your little brother.” Maya and Caleb were only a few years apart and had spent their entire childhood fighting. “You know that little leech will be stuck to your side the entire night. Won’t your new sister just die of jealousy when she sees you two?” I took a sip of my coffee. “My new family already looks down on me. Can you imagine if I went up and announced that I used to spank The Heir for being a picky eater?” Maya was laughing so hard she was doubled over. “Your biological family is something else. How on earth did they get the impression you were poor?” I sighed dramatically. “I don’t know. Maybe I just radiate a certain broke-girl energy?” Maya rolled her eyes. “If Aria Beaumont is broke, then there are no rich people left in the world.” I grinned slyly. “Well, there’s still the Foster Princess and her Heir Apparent~” Maya bristled. “Aria Beaumont! You take that back!” 4 Mr. Kingston called to confirm that the luggage was still on hold, then asked about Mochi. “Mochi seems a bit down without you here.” Mochi is my cat. I found him when I was hanging out at the Fosters’ estate. A scruffy little white kitten had snuck into their yard. Oh, right. The famous Heir is terrified of cats. The staff was about to shoo the kitten away, but he was so dirty and had a limp in one leg. He looked utterly pathetic. So I took him to the vet, got his leg fixed and his shots, named him Mochi, and he’s been with me ever since. I gave Mr. Kingston the address. “Bring him over. I’m out with Maya right now.” A little while later, Maya peered into the cat carrier and sighed. “Mochi, you get uglier every time I see you.” I slapped her arm lightly. “Don’t say that! He’s not ugly at all. Our Mochi is the cutest.” Maya’s apology was swift. “Sorry, Mochi. You’re adorable.” Objectively speaking, Mochi wasn’t a conventionally handsome cat. But that was just my first impression. Now, I find him ugly in the most endearing way. Uniquely ugly. Especially when Caleb, torn between his fear and his desire to pet Mochi, would finally work up the courage to reach out. Mochi would just sit there, staring calmly at him. The second Caleb’s hand got close, Mochi would dart away, not letting a single finger touch his fur. How could such a perfect cat exist? 5 “Ugh, what is that ugly cat!” Rina shrieked. When I got back to the Vances’ house, no one was home, so I let Mochi out in the living room. I didn’t expect Rina to walk in and start screaming, startling him. I scooped Mochi up, annoyed. “He’s my cat.” And you’re the ugliest thing here. Rina’s face twisted in disdain. “Sorry, sister. My friends all have, like, Abyssinians or Devon Rexes. I’ve just never seen a cat like… that.” I had to physically restrain myself from rolling my eyes. What an uncultured snob. Soon, the rest of the family arrived. Benjamin was holding an invitation, his eyes alight with triumph. “The Fosters’ invitation. It says one guest can bring two people.” Rina clung to his arm. “Benjamin~” He patted her head. “Go buy yourself a beautiful dress.” Rina let out a happy cheer. Then, as if remembering something, she looked at me. “Benjamin, you should bring Aria, too.” Me: “…” Benjamin just grunted, noncommittal. “I heard that even the notoriously private Beaumont heiress will be attending. The Beaumonts are on par with the Fosters, you know.” Yup, can confirm. A glint of ambition appeared in Benjamin’s eyes. “I’ve long heard that Miss Beaumont is gentle, quiet, and stunningly beautiful. A perfect match for a man like me. Mom, Dad, if I could marry Miss Beaumont…” I jumped. Whoa! No way. I’m your sister! Mr. Vance was thrilled. “Benjamin, you’re handsome and so accomplished. Even Miss Beaumont is sure to fall for you.” No, Miss Beaumont will not. Rina suddenly looked shy. “Mom, Dad, do you think The Heir will like me?” Oh, please, not this again. I think of Caleb as a little brother. My dad said you’re my sister. That makes you and Caleb practically siblings! You can’t be together! Mr. and Mrs. Vance were already lost in their fantasy, their faces flushed with excitement. “Rina, you’re so beautiful and sweet. Of course The Heir will like you. You just have to seize the opportunity, you understand?” I felt faint. This entire family was insane.

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