At his lowest point, the hero of the story had it all: a gambling-addicted father, a mother with crippling hospital bills, and a sister he was single-handedly putting through high school. He faced a daily onslaught of debt collectors, and on top of it all, a broken version of himself. Oh, right. And there was usually a wealthy, obsessive female antagonist forcing herself on him. As luck would have it, I transmigrated into that malicious side character—at the peak of her wealth and power. “I’ll sponsor you. Is twenty thousand a month enough?” His name was Alex. And me? A joke? So what if I was the villainess? I was rich as hell. 1 “You’re just a damn bartender. Me telling you to drink with me is a compliment. It’s your honor to have caught my eye, so don’t be an ungrateful prick.” “You’re selling yourself one way or another, so what’s the difference who you’re selling to? Think you’re too good for me, huh?” Even from a distance, I could see Alex standing there, his head slightly bowed. A single glance was enough to tell he was handsome. The man berating him was aggressive and loud. With his bulging belly and arrogant stance, he was clearly trouble. He poked a thick finger into Alex’s chest, forcing him back step by step. Then, the man pulled out a thick wad of crimson bills and slapped them straight across Alex’s face. “Is this fucking enough? If you want it, get on your knees and pick it up.” Alex’s head snapped to the side from the impact. After a brief moment, he knelt to retrieve the scattered cash. The instant his fingers touched a bill on the floor, the man stomped his foot down hard on Alex’s hand. From the grimace on Alex’s face, it was clear he used his full weight. “Why pretend to be so high and mighty when you’re desperate for money? If you were with me, this would be nothing. Me wanting you is a favor, you get it?” I was watching Alex endure the humiliation, and I had to admit, there was a certain rugged charm to it. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her—the story’s heroine, Fiona, dressed in a simple white sundress. I knew this moment perfectly. The heroine swoops in, heroically saves the handsome stranger, and from that day forward, becomes the woman Alex can’t forget. She becomes his motivation, his driving force. And later, when Alex becomes a titan of industry, their sweet, fairy-tale romance begins, and they ascend to the pinnacle of life together. But not today. Sorry. I closed the distance in three long strides, positioning myself right in front of the hero. I reached into my limited-edition handbag and pulled out a stack of bills far thicker than his. I slapped it hard across the loudmouth’s face. The wad of cash hit the floor with a heavy, satisfying thud. “Is that all the cash you have? And you’re acting this big?” I sneered. “You old creep.” 2 It was only then that I noticed Fiona, who had been lagging behind the man, finally arriving. She looked at the scene before her, utterly bewildered, but still started walking toward us. The man, stunned by the slap, quickly recovered and pointed a trembling finger in my face. “Who the hell are you? Do you know who I am? You looking for trouble? If you want to play the hero, you better make damn sure you’re qualified.” He looked ready to throw a punch. Honestly, his words were pathetic. “Vivian Sterling.” “Daughter of the chairman of Sterling Enterprises.” The instant change in his expression was priceless. Just one word for it: satisfying. Please. As if I didn’t know exactly who this nobody was. I had, after all, read the entire novel. In the early stages of the story, my character was an invincible, god-tier entity. My power was almost laughably absolute. The man stammered for a long moment. “It was my mistake. I was blind. I’m so sorry, Miss Sterling, so sorry.” I let out a soft chuckle, putting on an air of authority. “Apologize to him.” The moment the words left my mouth, the man practically fell over himself apologizing to Alex. Alex stood there in his bartender’s uniform, his handsome features unreadable. He showed no reaction, no emotion. Fiona now stood at his side, watching me with a wary expression. With the trash taken care of, only the three of us remained. I took a moment to appreciate Alex’s face. He was the hero, after all, and just as devastatingly handsome as the book described. He was completely blank-faced, though. I knew this was his lowest point. A gambling-addicted father, a mother in the hospital with astronomical medical bills, and a younger sister he was single-handedly supporting through high school. He was hounded daily by debt collectors, a shattered man trying to hold the pieces together. He was utterly exhausted, just trying to scrape together enough money to survive. He looked nothing like the future tycoon who would dominate the business world. He was just a tragic, beautiful mess. My original plan had been to snuff out the hero before he could ever rise. But looking at that face, I reconsidered for a solid 0.0001 seconds and changed my mind. “Alex, you’ve caught my eye. Be my arm candy. Keep me entertained, make me happy. Ten thousand a month. How about it?” My words were blunt, my gaze fixed on him. He was just too gorgeous to pass up. Now that I had money, I wasn’t about to short-change myself. Forget chasing girls or hot guys—I was going straight for the hero-level prize. This was going to be fun. Alex remained silent, but Fiona, standing beside him, spoke up first. “Vivian, thank you for helping Alex just now, but that doesn’t give you the right to insult him like this.” I looked at her indignant face and laughed out loud. “I’m not just going to insult him. I’m going to own him.” If it weren’t for my unexpected appearance, they’d both be in the hospital tonight. “Fifteen thousand. Is that enough?” Seeing the flicker of consideration in his eyes, I realized just how fun it was to be a rich bitch. “Alex would never agree. You…” Fiona was still chattering on, grabbing Alex’s hand to pull him away, her eyes filled with pity. I had no interest in arguing with the heroine. My patience was wearing thin. “Twenty thousand.” “I’ll do it.” “Alex, she’s humiliating you!” When Fiona finally left, her eyes were brimming with tears. Alex didn’t move, but I could tell he was still thinking about her. He stared after her for a long time. But I didn’t care. They say forced fruit isn’t sweet, but who cares? I’m not looking for sweetness. I wanted his beautiful face; I couldn’t care less who was in his heart. “Down payment.” I pulled ten grand from my purse and stuffed it into his hands. Looking at his handsome face made me happy. “Silverwood Hills estate tomorrow. Be there. You have my number.” With that, I gave his abs a quick, appreciative pat. The money should be enough to prevent the tragedy with his mother. My conscience was clear. I slung my designer bag over my shoulder and walked away. 3 When Alex reported for duty, he was wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans. Clean and crisp. Up close, I noticed his eyelashes were incredibly long. “The housekeeper has the day off. The kitchen’s over there. You’re making lunch. And one more thing: I need my food spicy.” Soon, a delicious aroma filled the air. It was actually quite good. “What are you standing there for? Sit down and eat with me.” Alex nodded and started to walk to the far end of the table. “Sit here. Next to me.” I saw him hesitate for a split second before moving to the chair beside me. He ate delicately, taking only a few small bites of the dishes before focusing on his rice. I slammed my bowl down on the table with a loud clatter. Alex looked up at me, his expression perfectly calm. “You have a problem with me?” I asked. “No.” I nodded, my tone hardening. “Good. I want you to remember something. I’m paying you twenty thousand a month, not to watch you play the martyr. You took my money, so you serve me well.” “And another thing,” I added, “I don’t like this cold, dead-inside act. It pisses me off. Got it?” Alex nodded. “Now, look up and give me a smile.” He looked up, and after a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. It was obviously forced. “Ugly.” With that, I got up and left. Over the next few weeks, Alex improved. He became a competent, if not enthusiastic, entertainer. The man was smart; he learned quickly, whether it was a new dance I wanted to see or just anticipating my moods. That, combined with his face, was a killer combination. Who needed to go to clubs? All in all, I was having a very pleasant time. Until Fiona showed up at my door. 4 I came out when I heard the shouting. A young girl was clutching Alex’s shoulder. He stood rigidly still. Beside them were a scruffy, middle-aged man and Fiona. I watched the scene unfold with amusement. The girl holding onto Alex glared at me. “Vivian, what gives you the right to make my brother serve you? Even if you buy his time, he’ll never like you! My brother only loves Fiona!” To wake up to this drama first thing in the morning was almost funny. But before I could speak, another familiar voice piped up. “Miss Sterling, Alex is a good person. He has his own thoughts, his own ambitions. He shouldn’t be trapped here by you.” For god’s sake, I couldn’t even be bothered to argue. They were both here to ruin my day. I pointed at the girl clinging to Alex. I knew who she was. Alex’s sister, Hailey. A staunch Fiona supporter. In the original novel, she had caused my character no end of trouble. “The right? My money gives me the right.” “The fact that you get to sit comfortably in a classroom is because of my money, you little idiot.” Hailey was stunned speechless, her large eyes filling with tears. Alex was looking at me too. My words were harsh. In the book, Alex was fiercely protective of his sister, but I met his gaze without flinching. “Alex, give me money! Give me the money, you ungrateful brat! Making all that cash, twenty grand a month, and trying to hide it from your old man!” The middle-aged man finally spoke, his voice agitated, his eyes wide and bloodshot, like he was about to pounce and devour someone. I instinctively took a step back. That was Alex’s father. A drunk, a gambler, and an abuser. Half of Alex’s misfortune stemmed from this man. I retreated into the house, making sure I was safe before calling security. They arrived quickly. Once they were there, I stepped back outside, staying behind the safety of the doorway. “I don’t have any money,” Alex said flatly. Fiona seemed terrified by the sudden turn of events and hid behind Hailey, leaving Alex to face his father alone. “If you don’t give me money, I’ll go to the hospital and find that sickly bitch! She’s gonna die anyway, it’s a waste keeping her there. I know you care about her. If you don’t want me to make a scene, give me the money!” The security guards moved in and restrained the man, holding him until he stopped struggling. He was still spewing curses. I couldn’t stand it. This man was disgusting, as both a father and a husband. I strode forward and delivered two sharp, clean slaps across his face. The sound echoed crisply. Still not satisfied, I kicked him hard in the knee. He crumpled forward, landing on his knees with a pained howl. It still wasn’t enough for me. “You scum. Send me the medical bills. And one more thing: I am no longer employing Alex. You won’t get a single cent from me. Get all three of them out of here.” Hailey ran off first. Fiona stood frozen until a guard approached her, then she too left, calling back over her shoulder. “Alex, I didn’t mean for this to happen, really! I didn’t know your father would be like this!” … Only Alex remained. I stood on the porch, a full head taller than him. “If you even think about chasing after her, you can get the hell out too.” 5 “Smile.” Alex forced a smile. I critiqued it again. “Fake.” His expression stiffened. That made me feel a little better. “You’re coming shopping with me this afternoon.” “You’re not firing me?” I shook my head and picked up a piece of vegetable with my chopsticks. “That was for your father to hear. And have your mother transferred to a different hospital, one he can’t find. Tomorrow—no, this afternoon. Go with Arthur. The expenses will be deducted from your salary.” I left the table before he had a chance to react. That afternoon, I returned from my retail battlefield, followed by my driver, Arthur, laden with shopping bags. I was finally experiencing the life of a rich heiress. So simple, so unpretentious. The pure joy of swiping a black card until my heart was content. Alex was already back. He opened the door for me. “Get me a glass of orange juice.” Alex went back to the kitchen. I leaned against the doorframe, watching him. I’d seen him in an apron a few times, but today he was wearing a well-tailored black suit. The contrast was pure, raw sex appeal. It made my mouth water. When he brought out the juice, he stood in front of me, hesitating. I could tell he wanted to say something. “Spit it out.” “I wanted to ask… how do you know so much about my situation? And… did you know about it, and that’s why you hired me, to give me the money?” 6 It was true. When I read the novel, I learned that Alex’s mother was a wonderful person. I didn’t want her to suffer that fate. “Congratulations, you guessed it. No need to thank me, I’m not interested. You just need to remember that I am kind, beautiful, and generous.” I praised myself lavishly. I heard a very faint, “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me. It wasn’t a handout. You earned it through your own labor. I just provided a good opportunity. You don’t owe me anything.” Alex lowered his gaze, hiding the emotion in his eyes. … Being a rich heiress had its downsides. One, a love for shopping. Two, a bad temper. “What took you so long to get the food? It’s cold now. Did you do it on purpose?” I took the takeout from Alex, my tone impatient. I walked straight to the trash can and placed the bag on top of it, announcing loudly as I walked away, “I’m not eating this. I’ve lost my appetite.” Then, I turned a corner, got in the car, and drove off, leaving Alex standing there alone. Alex stood frozen for a moment, then a bitter smile touched his lips. It seemed a waste to throw away food he’d traveled so far to get. He started to walk towards it, but an elderly man picking through the trash got there first. The plastic bag on his back was already full of bottles. Alex’s sharp eyes noticed something under the food container: a red bill. The old man opened the container and began to eat ravenously, completely unaware of the money on top of the bin. Standing there, Alex thought again that maybe the heiress wasn’t so bad after all. The old man finished eating quickly and only then noticed the money. He froze, looking around as if searching for its owner, hesitating to take it. Alex walked over, took the money, folded it neatly, and pressed it into the old man’s hand. “Sir, the young lady who left the food here put this here for you.” He added, “She’s just a bit proud, too shy to give it to you directly.” The old man took the money, his eyes welling up with tears, and nodded repeatedly. “She’s a kind-hearted girl. Heaven will bless her.” Yes, it will, Alex thought. 7 Junior year of college started. I was determined to enjoy my second chance at university life. But a rumor started circulating on campus, accompanied by a photo of me bossing Alex around, making him carry my luggage. The gist of it was that I was a bully, using my power to force the campus idol to be my servant, holding his mother’s medical bills over his head. I read the post. The actual wording was a hundred times worse. The comment section was a war zone. People were cursing me, my family, you name it. “There’s no morality anymore. Money is king. I hope she goes bankrupt. Karma’s a bitch.” “Down with the bourgeoisie! Down with the evil elite! I hope she spends the rest of her life miserable, starving, and broke.” “Maybe she won’t even live that long. Hope she gets in a car crash tomorrow.” … It got so bad that people were waiting for me at the school gates to hurl insults. I had Arthur investigate. It didn’t take long to get the truth. A guy had posted it. Under a little pressure, he confessed everything. He had a crush on Fiona, and after seeing her crying over the photo and complaining about me, he got angry. He stole the photo and posted it online to be her champion. “I didn’t post it! It has nothing to do with me! Let me go, you’re illegally detaining me!” Fiona’s whining was giving me a headache. I didn’t waste my breath on her; Arthur pulled her aside to explain the legal ramifications. I turned to Alex. “What do you think?” “Fiona… she didn’t mean it.” “Vivian, can you just let it go?” “At her core, Fiona isn’t a bad person.” Of course. The destined couple. I didn’t say anything, but a wave of irritation washed over me. “Who the hell do you think you are, Alex?” He froze. I had never spoken to him like that before. “Everything you have, I gave to you. You still don’t understand your place. If I didn’t take pity on you, you wouldn’t even have the right to speak to me.” My temper was never great, rich or not. I don’t like being wronged, especially over something so stupid. I had been more lenient with him before because he was the hero of the story. But now, I was annoyed. The novelty was wearing off. “That’s not what I meant…” I cut him off. “Don’t try to explain. I don’t want to hear it.” … The clarification post went up quickly. I paid to boost it, and it immediately went viral. In the dean’s office, I didn’t mince words. “Hello everyone, I’m Vivian Sterling. Regarding the recent online rumors, I have found the culprits: Kevin Tao and Fiona Bell from the sophomore design department. The full story and evidence will be posted online shortly.” “Rest assured, they will pay for what they’ve done.” Public opinion shifted instantly. With a little push from me, the narrative changed from outrage at me to sympathy for me in just a few hours. The tide had turned, and Fiona was now suffering the consequences of her own actions. I stopped reading the comments. I refused to be a victim. Now that I’d gotten my anger out, it was time to treat myself. …

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384853”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

As our whole class watched the game stream together, the vice president, Caden, sneered at the female player on screen. “Man, it must be nice not having balls. Just spread your legs and the mission’s done. Wish I was a girl!” Just as everyone was about to argue with him, we were all suddenly dragged into the game. 【Welcome to the Live Chat Battle Royale!】 【Survive by completing the game according to the rules set by your own live chat comments!】 The moment the voice faded, Caden’s crude comment materialized as a crimson banner above his head. The next second, his crotch erupted in a mist of blood. 1 We were in the international program at Northwood Prep—just twelve of us, all set to head to universities abroad this summer. The usual pre-exam tension was nonexistent. The day before our finals, we were all gathered, watching a horror battle royale stream. The game was set in an abandoned school. The female streamer was being coddled by her teammates, never having to lift a finger for any of the tasks. My classmates’ fingers flew across their keyboards, flooding the live chat with a storm of complaints. 【What a fucking useless leader, all he does is hide with the girl. Man up and fight!】 【God, I hate it when couples drag the team down. Can’t they just break up before playing?】 【Not to be sexist, but I hate teaming up with girls. So much drama!】 【A true leading lady does it alone. No need for teammates!】 And Caden, the vice president sitting next to me, just had to shout his opinion out loud with a contemptuous smirk. “Man, it must be nice not having balls. No need to grind, just spread your legs and someone else does the work for you. Wish I was a girl!” As he spoke, he typed the exact same words into the chat and hit send. Several of the girls in the room instantly blew up. “What the hell is wrong with you, Caden? What did girls ever do to you?” “Did you just crawl out of a sewer? Your mouth stinks. Go brush your teeth!” But Caden was completely unfazed. “People just can’t handle the truth. It’s a fact you girls don’t have anything between your legs. Did I say a single word that was wrong?” He had that smug, self-satisfied look of someone who thinks they’re the only sane person in a world of fools. It made me sick. But in the next instant, the world warped. The clean white walls of our classroom were suddenly smeared with dark, crimson stains. “What’s going on?” “Holy shit, don’t scare me like that…” “Why… why does this look exactly like the game?” I lifted my head to the blackboard. In the stream we’d been watching, that’s where all the clues appeared. Sure enough, glowing green text materialized on its surface. 【Welcome to the Live Chat Battle Royale!】 【Survive by completing the game according to the rules set by your own live chat comments!】 2 Confusion swept through the room. “Live Chat Battle Royale? What the hell is that?” “Someone explain this! I don’t get it!” A moment later, Caden’s scream provided all the explanation we needed. A sharp, wet pop echoed in the classroom, and Caden’s lower body was instantly shrouded in a cloud of red mist. The comment he’d just posted hovered ominously above his head, a translucent, blood-red banner that seared itself into our eyes. 【Man, it must be nice not having balls. No need to grind, just spread your legs and it’s over. Wish I was a girl!】 Not having balls. It clicked. I suddenly understood. Caden said he wished he didn’t have anything between his legs, and the game had made it a reality. A few students, their faces drained of all color, stumbled into a corner and started retching. A cold sweat broke out on my own skin. I was just thankful I’d been so focused on Caden’s disgusting rant that I hadn’t typed anything myself. In his condition, he probably wouldn’t last the day. Oh, not even a day. His legs began to spread apart at a horrifyingly unnatural angle. He seemed to realize what was happening and desperately tried to pull them back together. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said it! I know I was wrong!” he shrieked, his voice cracking with terror. “I shouldn’t have insulted women! Please, stop, don’t—” A sound like a pig being slaughtered filled the room as his bones groaned with an audible, sickening crack. He was already in a full split, but his legs kept pulling, slowly, relentlessly, in opposite directions. I heard the sound of tearing flesh and squeezed my eyes shut. Behind me, one of the boys screamed, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeal. “He’s being ripped in half!” Students at the back of the room were frantically pounding on the door and windows, trying to escape, but nothing budged. Caden was torn apart, starting from his legs. His insides spilled out onto the floor in a grotesque heap. His eyes were wide with horror, staring blankly even after he stopped breathing. The bloody text above his head slowly faded until it vanished completely. Amidst the chaos, a speaker crackled to life from above. 【Warm-up complete. The general rules for this game will now be announced.】 3 The sudden voice made me jump. You call that pool of guts a warm-up? 【This Battle Royale will last for four days and four nights. During the day, players may move freely. At 8 PM every evening, all players must gather for a mandatory discussion, followed by a vote to determine that night’s eliminated player. At night, all players must rest separately; prolonged grouping is a violation.】 【Each comment has corresponding sub-rules that must be strictly followed. The game will only reveal the comment’s content, not its owner. When a player dies, their corresponding comment and its rules will disappear.】 【There are a total of six Item Cards hidden throughout the school. Three ‘Cancel Cards’ can eliminate a designated comment (your own or someone else’s). Two ‘Swap Cards’ can randomly exchange the ownership of two comments. One ‘Generator Card’ can create a new comment, but its rules cannot override or contradict the general rules.】 【Surviving for four days and four nights constitutes victory. The winners will split a prize of twenty million dollars.】 I let out a small sigh of relief. In principle, multiple people could survive. And for kids in the international program, none of us were hurting for money. 【The system has identified 9 valid comments. Player Caden has been eliminated. The remaining 8 comments are now displayed on the blackboard. Please review them.】 Eight blocks of large, green text appeared on the board. Below each, smaller red text detailed the specific rules. Everyone had more or less pulled themselves together and we all started reading. Comment 1: 【I never trust random probability. With precise calculation, you can’t lose!】 Rule: The owner of this comment has a passive skill that grants a one-time immunity to the effect of any Item Card. We all knew who this had to be. Leo, our resident academic star. A 24-karat nerd who believed every problem in the universe could be solved with an equation. This had his name written all over it. I glanced over at him; he looked as calm as ever. Comment 2: 【If you’re a man, play with your chest out! No hiding!】 Rule: All male players must remain in motion during the day. Hiding in the same location for more than thirty minutes will result in elimination. One of the guys cursed under his breath. “Which son of a bitch posted that? What kind of asshole drags all the other guys down with him?” My heart skipped a beat. A comment could actually affect other players. Comment 3: 【I wish I had a see-through item. A god’s-eye view would be sick!】 Rule: Each night, you may choose one person and learn the content of their comment. So, a Seer, like in a game of Mafia. I sighed internally. People with that kind of power never lasted long. Comment 4: 【A true leading lady does it alone. No need for teammates!】 Rule: This player must act alone at all times, except during the discussion phase. A girl, then. Comment 5: 【If I’m playing, no one touches my woman before I die!】 This one was basically a confession. There was only one couple in our class: Asher, our class president, and his girlfriend, Mia. It could only be Asher, trying to protect her. Comment 6: 【Not to be sexist, but I hate teaming up with girls. So much drama!】 Rule: Outside of discussion and voting, this player cannot be alone in the same space with any female player for more than 10 minutes. If this rule is broken, the other female player will die. That familiar knot of tension tightened in my stomach. Another comment targeting female players. My first thought was that some other idiot guy had posted it, but then I reconsidered. This felt… different. It sounded more like a pick-me girl. Comment 7: 【Just kill everyone else, right?】 Rule: This player must kill one person each night. Every face in the room went pale. 4 Son of a bitch. This really was a game of Mafia. We were already set to lose four people to the votes over four days, and now we had a nightly murderer on top of that. Unless this ‘Wolf’ was voted out or had their comment canceled with a card, they might be the only one left standing. I quickly calculated in my head. As soon as we could, we had to find a Cancel Card and get rid of that comment. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn’t even looked at the eighth and final comment. It was the shocked gasps from two classmates beside me that snapped me out of it. Asher and Mia had collapsed to the floor, their faces masks of pure despair. The last comment on the blackboard was especially cruel. Comment 8: 【God, couples who drag the team down are the worst. Can’t they just break up before playing?】 Rule: At the start of the game, all couples must internally vote to eliminate one member. Asher and Mia… one of them had to die. Right now. It was possible? You could post a comment that forced someone else to die? Amidst the heavy silence, a girl named Skylar folded her arms and sneered, “Come on, hurry it up. Don’t waste everyone’s time.” She was the school’s resident bad girl, known for bullying others. Most people steered clear of her. There had been rumors she’d pursued Asher before, and seeing her now, it seemed plausible. Her eyes were filled with nothing but gleeful malice. “Aren’t you two just so in love? Time to prove it.” No one spoke. Mia clung to Asher, her voice choked with sobs. “No, baby, please, you can’t…” Asher held her tight. “I’m so sorry, my love.” Tears streamed down Mia’s face as she desperately tried to stand up first, to take the fall herself. But Asher was well over six feet tall and easily broke her grip. He pushed her away, gently but firmly, and rose to his feet. “Everyone,” he said, his voice steady, “please, look after my Mia. I’m begging you.” As Mia’s cries filled the room, he raised his hand. “I choose to eliminate myself.” Snap. With a faint, sickening crack, Asher’s neck twisted at an impossible angle. The comment he’d made to protect his girlfriend appeared above his head as a bloody halo, then slowly faded away. Mia’s sobs turned into silent, ragged gasps. She somehow found the strength to catch her boyfriend’s falling body with her own small frame, her hands gently closing his lifeless eyes. I sighed. Our president was a true man. He deserved respect. A few other students were quietly crying. “Asher lived a good life. He didn’t go out without a fight.” But there’s always someone with a sick mind. Skylar, for instance, shot a final, bitter remark at Mia. “You’re a curse. Asher was just unlucky to have ever dated you.” And then there was Leo, who chose that moment to “comfort” everyone. “Actually, this was the only optimal solution. The president’s comment contained a logical constraint…” “Because Mia couldn’t be harmed before he died, if she were chosen for elimination, he would have died with her. The proposition had only one unique solution…” “Shut up!” a guy named Rhys snapped. “You goddamn nerd, you’re sick in the head!” Another boy, Quentin, slammed his fist against the doorframe. “Enough with the bullshit. Let’s go explore and find those items!” As if on cue, the speaker crackled. 【The game has begun. All players may now act freely according to their respective rules.】 The lock on the door clicked open. Everyone who could move scrambled out of the suffocating classroom as if fleeing a plague. After one last look at the blackboard, I left too, my mind already racing, analyzing the seven remaining comments. Leo, the calculation freak, was a known quantity with a one-time immunity. The couple-breaker comment was now useless. That left one comment forcing guys to keep moving, one pick-me comment that could kill lone girls, and one lone-wolf girl comment. And somewhere among us, a Wolf who had to kill, and a Seer who could see. There were ten of us left. That meant besides me, there were two other “vanilla” players with no comments. I started running through the personalities of my classmates. With the president and vice president dead, we were down to five boys and five girls. Among the other four girls, Ruby was quiet and introverted; I didn’t know her well. Mia was usually sweet and easygoing, but now she was a wreck, impossible to analyze. That left Skylar and the stunning, mixed-race Lillian. My gut told me one of them was the pick-me, and the other was the lone wolf. Of the five remaining boys, Leo was too clinical for me to even want to understand. Silas was quiet and reserved, but I always felt there was a turbulent current beneath his calm exterior. Rhys, Liam, and Quentin were the more outgoing types. Maybe I could get some useful information by focusing on them during the discussions. Right now, the priority was to scout the area, find items and clues, and figure out how to stay alive. The moment I stepped out of the school building, a chilling wind hit me. The air was thick with the smell of blood and decay, making my stomach churn again. Four days. Besides the game rules, starvation and dehydration might not be fatal, but I knew my hypoglycemia could be a serious problem. If my blood sugar dropped too low, I could just pass out and die. I had to find supplies. Even a few pieces of candy could be the difference between life and death for me over the next four days. This school was completely enclosed. The rulebook I’d seen mentioned a military-style management, so I wasn’t surprised when I couldn’t find a convenience store or supermarket anywhere. My only option was the cafeteria. As I walked, a grim thought crossed my mind. If there was no food or water, this game would truly force us to kill each other. But all my worries vanished the moment I stepped inside. Ten exquisite meals were laid out on the tables. Steak, mashed potatoes, creamy mushroom soup, and two small pastries for each setting. The silverware was ornate, the sense of ceremony a cruel irony in this place. I picked up a steak knife and made a small cut. Pink juices oozed out. Medium rare. The sight of blood and flesh brought back the image of Caden’s mangled body. I turned and threw up again, the bitter taste of bile filling my mouth. In the end, I just wrapped the two pastries in a napkin and stuffed them in my pocket. I searched several storage rooms but found no Item Cards. I was feeling weak and utterly drained. I took the key from one of the janitor’s closets, locked the door from the inside, and unrolled a yoga mat I found to lie down for a while. For the first time, I felt a small sliver of relief. At least the girls didn’t have to be constantly on the move. We could find a place to hide and rest. When I woke up, my hypoglycemia had kicked in as expected. I ate half a pastry, but my appetite was gone. I hid the rest under the yoga mat and headed to the classroom for the first discussion and vote. 5 Within ten minutes, everyone had trickled back into the classroom. 【The discussion will now begin. After the discussion, a vote will be held. No player may abstain from voting twice in a row. Good luck to all players.】 My stomach dropped. Can’t abstain twice in a row. That meant we would be forced to make enemies. Silence hung in the air. Leo was the first to speak. “Is anyone willing to reveal their comment?” He held up his hand. “Mine is the calculation one, with the immunity. I think you all figured that out.” Skylar immediately stood up. “I’m not one to hide. I’m the one who doesn’t like playing with girls.” Of course. The pick-me herself. Judging by the lack of reaction, no one was surprised. “Anyone else?” I stayed silent as a mouse, huddled in my corner, afraid that speaking up would make me a target. Skylar scanned the other girls. “Look at you all, a bunch of whiny, scared little bitches.” Just then, Mia, her face pale, raised a trembling hand. “I didn’t post a comment.” Skylar’s expression soured instantly. “Oh really? You. Didn’t. Post. A. Comment.” She dragged out the words with theatrical sarcasm. “Who’s gonna believe that? You got any proof?” Mia managed a self-deprecating smile. “When my boyfriend was posting his comment, I was holding onto his arm and refused to let go. I never even had a free hand to look at my own phone.” I raised an eyebrow. If Skylar really did have a thing for Asher, those words were a knife straight to the heart. Even in a death game, people can’t resist gossip. Everyone’s eyes drifted subtly towards Skylar. As expected, a flicker of humiliation crossed her face. “Wow, still have the energy to show off your perfect relationship. Impressive.” “I wasn’t…” “Shut up,” Skylar snapped, rolling her eyes. “If you loved him so much, why didn’t you die for him? Don’t you want to join him?” Mia’s face was ashen, but her eyes were firm. “I won’t let my boyfriend’s death be for nothing.” “I might not win, but I’m going to fight to live as long as I can.” Skylar let out a derisive chuckle. “Don’t waste your breath.” A vicious smile spread across her face. “I say we help our dear Mia fulfill her dream. Let’s send her to be reunited with her precious boyfriend!” I couldn’t help but feel contempt for her. While the rest of us were trying to find the Wolf, she was using her “I don’t play with girls” rule to start a catfight, one that could get someone killed. I made a mental note to stay as far away from her as possible. If she ever tried to come after me, I’d bite her damn head off before I went down. My thoughts were interrupted by the sharp crack of a slap. It was Mia. She had suddenly lunged forward and struck Skylar across the face. “You think you’ve won? Skylar, you think I don’t know about you trying to seduce Asher?” “Too bad for you. He never even opened those private photos you sent him!” “Calling yourself ‘one of the guys.’ What kind of ‘guy’ sends videos of themselves in a bra to another man? Hahaha!” “He’s dead, but he died for me. You never had a chance, Skylar. You couldn’t even be his side piece!” “Fuck you!” Skylar screamed, and the two of them started brawling. “You fucking bitch, you little fox! I’ll kill you sooner or later!” “You just wait, I’ll drown you in a pig cage…” A few of the guys, unable to watch any longer, stepped in to pull them apart. “Stop it! We only have five minutes left to vote…” Leo pushed his glasses up his nose. “If Mia is truly a vanilla player, voting for her is meaningless. I have a candidate in mind.” Lillian spoke up suddenly, and all heads turned to her. She sat perched on a desk, her blonde hair and blue eyes standing out, her light, poofy dress a stark contrast to the grim surroundings. “I saw it. I saw who posted the comment that killed Asher.” “What did you say?” everyone asked, stunned. The next second, Liam, who was standing nearby, dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, it was me!” he cried, tears and snot streaming down his face. “Asher was my brother, I’m so sorry…” “I admit I was jealous of him and Mia… but I never wanted him to die! Mia, I’m so sorry…” Hearing this, Skylar’s face twisted into an even uglier sneer. Lillian just rolled her eyes. “An eye for an eye. It’s only fair.” Mia was breathing heavily, staring at Liam with a blank expression. After a long moment, she raised her hand. “I vote for Liam.” Liam, still kneeling, trembled. He looked at Lillian and Mia with a last shred of hope. “I can help you, I can protect you…” But Lillian just scoffed. “I don’t need any teammates.” One by one, the others pointed at Liam. His eyes went vacant as he muttered, “I’m sorry.” I followed the majority and voted for him too. Only Skylar, her jaw tight, pointed stubbornly at Mia. The countdown ended. Liam’s pupils dilated abruptly. Thin trickles of blood began to seep from his eyes and nostrils. He fell backward and didn’t move again. The comment about breaking up couples appeared, then vanished. This time, everyone was much calmer. The voting was over, and the click of the unlocking door echoed through the room. People began to file out. I let out a slow breath. Tonight, the owner of the ‘kill everyone’ comment would strike. I took a roundabout path, making sure no one was following me, before slipping back into the equipment room and locking the door. I had a pretty good idea who tonight’s victim would be. Either Skylar, who had made herself a public enemy, or… The lone wolf, Lillian. Her last sentence had given her away. I don’t need any teammates. Combined with the fact that she was a girl, I was almost certain she was the ‘lone leading lady.’ She was forced to be alone, making her the easiest target. If I were the Wolf, I’d go after Lillian tonight as a warm-up. I lay on the yoga mat, clutching a small dumbbell, staying alert for half the night before exhaustion finally took over.

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The shoes Guillermo gave me for my birthday were the wrong size. I was silent for a long moment before I finally asked for a divorce. He was bewildered. “Over something so small?” “Getting me size 7s when I’m a 6 is a small thing,” I said, my voice flat. “Forgetting our anniversary is also a small thing.” “Losing your wedding ring, another small thing.” “And you having lunch with your college crush while I was in surgery… I suppose that’s a small thing, too.” I pushed the shoe box back into his hands. “Tell me, Guillermo. What exactly counts as a big deal to you?” My voice was quiet, but it cut through the air between us. “Let’s get a divorce. Please make some time to go to the courthouse this week.” Guillermo rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, the picture of weary patience. “Honey, don’t be like this.” We’d thrown the word ‘divorce’ around in arguments more times than I could count over the years. He assumed this time was like all the others—a lot of thunder, but no rain. He didn’t realize the storm had finally broken until I placed the signed separation agreement on the table in front of him. 1 Guillermo and I had been married for seven years. In those seven years, he’d climbed his way up from nothing, a scrappy entrepreneur who fought through countless setbacks to become the tech wunderkind he was today. Everyone envied me for snagging such a promising stock. And by all traditional measures, Guillermo was a good husband. He always told me where he was going, and even after making his fortune, his name was never linked to a single scandal. Logically, I should have been content. Isn’t that what they say online? A rich husband who’s never home is the dream. I tried to tell myself that for a long time. Until I had to be hospitalized recently. It wasn’t anything major, just a small surgery to remove a nasal polyp. But it was my first time going under, and anxiety had been chewing at me for days. Guillermo was swamped with work, and as I tried to explain my fears, his patience wore thin. “It’s a minor procedure, Olivia. Don’t be so dramatic.” His words froze me. Of course, I knew it was a minor procedure. But I’m just a normal person, and normal people have an instinctual fear of the unknown. All I wanted was a little reassurance from him. He must have realized he’d gone too far, because he apologized immediately. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be there with you tomorrow. I promise.” But in the end, he broke that promise. He wasn’t there when I woke up from the anesthesia. He never came. Instead, his assistant showed up with a bouquet of flowers and an awkward smile. “Mrs. Anderson, there was an emergency meeting. Guillermo had to fly to London.” I glanced at my phone. The screen was dark, empty. Not a single text. I couldn’t pinpoint when he’d become so stingy with his affection that even a simple message was too much to ask for. I forced a bitter smile. “Okay. I understand.” Guillermo knew better than anyone that in this city, he was the only person I had to rely on. After the anesthesia wore off, a throbbing pain pulsed through my sinuses. I wanted to scream, to sob, but all I could do was bury my face in my pillow and choke back quiet tears. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but when I finally looked up, a figure in a white coat materialized in the doorway, hands shoved casually into his pockets. My vision was blurry with tears. It was a doctor. “Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice calm and gentle. I blinked, my mind slowly clearing. As his face came into focus, a jolt went through me. It was a face I never expected to see again. A thousand memories flashed through my mind, and a hot blush crept up my neck. “No, I’m fine. Thank you,” I stammered. He watched me for a long moment, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes, before sighing softly and walking closer. “Then why are you crying?” I pointed a shaky finger to my nose. “It hurts.” I had imagined running into Ethan Cole again a million times, but never like this—a pathetic, tear-stained mess in a hospital gown. He drew a small penlight from his pocket and clicked it on. “Tilt your head up. Let me take a look.” Numbly, I obeyed, letting him conduct his examination. “It looks fine,” he said, his voice reassuring. “I’ll get you some painkillers. Take one if it gets really bad.” He paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And try not to cry into your pillow. It’s not good for the healing process. If you need anything, just call. I’m on duty tonight.” I was completely stunned. All I could manage was a weak nod. My mind was racing. When had Ethan moved back from abroad? If I had known he was working at this hospital, I would have gone anywhere else. Thankfully, he was considerate enough to leave after the check-up, giving me space to process. 2 I was in the hospital for three days. For three days, it was as if Guillermo had vanished from the face of the earth. The next time I saw any news of him, it was on a trending topic on Instagram. A rising starlet named Alana had posted a photo that set the internet on fire. Her caption was playful: Finally got to have that dinner with my old college mentor! followed by a cutesy, tongue-out emoji. In the photo, a man’s wrist was clearly visible. On his hand was a ring—the one I had custom-made for him. The comments section exploded with well-wishes. Alana had already gained a legion of fans after her private account was leaked. Everyone knew the story: the glamorous actress was secretly just a shy girl, hopelessly in love with an upperclassman from her past. Her private feed was a shrine to him, filled with poetic entries detailing her unrequited love through high school and college. Even her username, @ChasingTheAura, was a nod to him. The story had been dormant for years, ever since her private account went public. Now, with this new post, the unrequited love story had a sequel. The internet crowned it the most epic crush of all time. Her fans, never ones to miss an opportunity, egged her on. 【OMG GIRL, GO FOR IT!】 【Get together! Get together!】 【Alana, follow your heart!】 【Did she finally get her man?!】 The post trended all day. It didn’t take long for sharp-eyed netizens to notice the wedding band on the man’s ring finger. A married mentor and the innocent starlet. The story was too juicy to ignore. The speculation intensified as more details were dug up. The ring’s unique design had only been seen on one person: Guillermo Anderson, the celebrated new genius of the tech world. Soon, Guillermo’s bio was all over the web, and he and Alana were trending together. The scandal was so big that the topic was forcibly scrubbed from the trending list. And through it all, Guillermo—the man at the center of the storm—offered no explanation. I stared at the circus on my phone, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. Three days passed. No call from him. No text. No explanation. A few nights later, he came home as if nothing had happened. He looked exhausted, his usually perfect hair disheveled. “Babe, I’m so sorry. Things have been insane at work. I haven’t been able to check in.” He didn’t mention the hospital. He didn’t mention the scandal. My eyes fell on his left hand. His ring finger was bare. A surge of cold anger washed over me. “Where’s your ring?” He instinctively glanced at his hand, his voice suddenly strained. “I… I lost it.” Lost it? Or got rid of it? Only he knew the truth. The rush of emotion made my sinuses ache. I massaged the bridge of my nose, too tired to fight. We’d had this same argument, or variations of it, for years. I was done. As I turned to leave, Guillermo grabbed my arm. “The stuff online… I can explain.” “Liv,” he said, his voice earnest. “Alana is just… we knew each other in college. We were both in London at the same time, so we had dinner. That’s it.” “Nothing happened between us. I swear.” A cynical smile touched my lips. “Then why not just say that? One press release would have cleared it up. Why kill the story and let the rumors run wild?” He sighed heavily. “Alana’s career is just taking off. I couldn’t risk ruining it for her.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “She’s the one who created this mess, isn’t she? If her career gets ruined, she has no one to blame but herself. And besides, how would a simple clarification destroy her career? That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.” “Liv, don’t be so cruel.” I couldn’t believe those words came from the man I’d been married to for seven years. For the first time in a long time, I completely lost control. “Cruel?” I yelled, my voice shaking with rage. “You want to talk about cruel? My husband disappears while I’m in the hospital having surgery, only to pop up in London having a cozy dinner with his little admirer, and you have the nerve to call me cruel? You’re disgusting, Guillermo.” I ripped my arm from his grasp. “Get out. I’m done with you.” I had become so numb over the years, so emotionally stable. This raw, screaming version of myself felt like a stranger. A deep sadness settled in my chest. When had we become this? A flash of panic crossed Guillermo’s face. He pulled me into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry.” I pried his fingers off me, one by one. My voice was chillingly calm. “I think we both need some space to cool off.” The ugly, contorted face I had just seen in his eyes was one I never wanted to see again. 3 Following the fight, Guillermo and I entered a deep freeze. We didn’t speak for nearly a month. It was his mother who finally noticed something was wrong. She arranged a dinner party, using my upcoming birthday as an excuse to get us in the same room. Guillermo was running late, as usual, so his mother and I sat in the living room alone. “Olivia, you and Guillermo have been through so much together, from the very beginning,” she said gently. “I know he’s neglected you these past few years while building his company, and I know that’s been hard on you. But I want you to know, that boy has always been stubborn. He’s not good with words, and he never explains himself when there’s a misunderstanding. But, Olivia, he truly has you in his heart.” Guillermo’s mother was one of those rare, perfect mothers-in-law. She respected boundaries. In all our years of marriage, she never once made a single demand of me. Her philosophy was that a marriage belongs to the couple, and outsiders should stay out. She lived by it. For her to be playing peacemaker now meant that Guillermo must have gone to her for help. Her concern felt genuine, so I decided to be honest. “But, Mom,” I began, my voice quiet, “I got married because I wanted a home. A place where we could eat our terrible home-cooked meals together, read useless books on the couch together, wander aimlessly on weekends together. A place where we could live out all our ordinary, boring days… together.” My voice cracked. “But what do I have now? I eat alone. I get sick alone. I lie in a hospital bed alone. When I have good news to share, or when I need a shoulder to cry on, he’s never there. What’s the point of a marriage like that?” I’d asked myself that question a thousand times. What was the point? Friends told me to hold on tight to Guillermo, this rising star. They said he was headed for greatness, and my status would rise with him. That our future children would have a head start in life that others could only dream of. “So what if he cheats on me one day?” I asked them. “Am I supposed to just close my eyes and forgive him?” They’d fall silent, stammering about how marriage eventually becomes about companionship, not passion. But they forgot one thing: I had a perfectly good career of my own. I didn’t need to cling to his tree to survive. All I ever wanted was a home. And now I knew, with painful certainty, that he couldn’t give me one. I didn’t need to console myself with platitudes about companionship when my husband’s heart had already moved on. When the love is gone, it’s gone. Why disguise it as something else? Guillermo’s mother was quiet for a long time. Finally, she patted my hand. “My dear child, you’ve been through too much.” Her words were the final crack in my dam. Tears welled in my eyes. Yes, I felt sorry for myself. How had I let my life become this empty? The family dinner was supposed to start at six-thirty, but with Guillermo’s absence, it was postponed indefinitely. At eight, Guillermo’s father finally declared, “We’re not waiting for him any longer. Let’s eat.” The housekeeper reheated the dishes, offering me a placating smile as she noticed my somber expression. “Good things come to those who wait,” she chirped. At eight-thirty, Guillermo finally arrived. He sounded genuinely apologetic. “Sorry, everyone. A last-minute meeting came up.” I smiled, a sharp, humorless thing. “See, Mom, Dad? Everything else always comes before us.” Guillermo always had another meeting, another conference call. He was never on time for a family gathering. Not even for my birthday. He walked over, holding a gift bag. “Honey, I’m so sorry I’m late. Happy birthday.” He handed it to me. “Look, they just came in. It’s that pair of heels you love.” I had mentioned loving those shoes months ago. They weren’t available in the States, and every time he traveled abroad, I’d asked him to look for them. He never had. With his parents watching, I had no choice but to take the box, forcing a tight smile. The packaging was exquisite. Tucked inside was a handwritten card. Dear Olivia, May you be happy every day. I glanced at the card, then back at him, my smile turning into a smirk. “Who’s Olivia?” I shoved the card back into his hand. “Give this to your Olivia.” Without another word, I turned and walked out of the dining room. From the hallway, I could hear his parents’ hushed voices. “Guillermo, work is endless. You need to make time for Olivia.” Guillermo’s low voice replied, “I know. Once the company goes public, I’ll…” I didn’t bother listening to the rest. This villa was one Guillermo had bought for his parents after he made his first fortune. I rarely visited, and tonight was the first time I’d really taken in the backyard garden. I sat on the swing, staring blankly at the rows of blooming roses. My phone buzzed. A link from a friend I hadn’t spoken to in years. It was a post from an entertainment blogger. Her text came with a single, cutting remark. “Looks like someone else didn’t get their fairy-tale ending after all.” She used to be my best friend. I ignored her and clicked the link. The blogger’s post was pure speculation, written with breathless excitement: “AuraTech’s new drone is being endorsed by Alana! Has anyone considered that Alana might actually be the CEO’s wife? Maybe her Instagram post was a secret announcement!” Attached was a paparazzi photo of Alana sitting in a car outside the AuraTech headquarters, sunglasses on, laughing brightly at the man in the driver’s seat. The top comment read: 【I SHIP IT! Put me down for a $200 wedding gift, and put it on Guillermo Anderson’s tab!】 I liked the comment, then closed the app. When I turned, Guillermo was standing right behind me. His face was pale, but his eyes were dark and intense. “Liv, are you really just going to ignore me?” he asked, his voice low. “Can you give me ten minutes? I can explain everything.” I looked up at him. “Fine. I’m listening.” “I asked Alana to buy the shoes for me,” he said, the words rushing out. “She was flying back today, so I had her pick them up. The salesclerk must have thought they were for her and wrote that card.” A small, incredulous laugh escaped my lips. “And what’s the explanation for the size 7s? Don’t tell me our great CEO doesn’t even know his own wife’s shoe size.” He looked like a child caught in a lie. “I’m sorry.” I stared at him for a long, silent moment. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said again, the words feeling more real, more solid this time. 4 Guillermo looked at me, his face a mask of disbelief. “Over something so small?” he repeated, his voice strained. I reached out and plucked a single, perfect rose from the bush beside the swing. It had a faint, sweet scent. My sense of smell had been dull for years, a side effect of the polyps, but since the surgery, it was slowly returning. Which meant I could now clearly smell the subtle, expensive perfume clinging to his shirt. And I never wear perfume. I stated the facts calmly, one by one. “Getting my shoe size wrong is a small thing.” “Forgetting our anniversary is a small thing.” “Losing your wedding ring is a small thing.” “Disappearing to have a date with your old crush while I was having surgery… that is also a small thing.” My gaze flickered to the shoe box I’d discarded on the grass. “Tell me, Guillermo. In your world, what counts as a big deal?” “Let’s get a divorce. Please make time this week to go to the courthouse.”

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Before the system erased me, I ordered five male models. If I was going to die, I was going to die with dignity. Then the man I’d been chasing my whole life burst into the hotel room with a dozen of his squad members. “Vice raid! You’re all under arrest!” he barked, his eyes burning into mine. “The woman stays. For a… private… interrogation.” And in the chaos, I heard his voice echo in my mind, a voice no one else could hear: 【My wife is misbehaving. She needs to be punished.】 1 My system is called “Touch Julian or Die.” Basically, how long I live is directly proportional to how much I can touch him. A simple touch: +1 day. Holding hands: +5 days. A hug: +10 days. A kiss: +30 days. And, well, you know… +50 days. Insane, right? There’s no cure. It’s just that insane. Luckily, there’s a real condition called “skin hunger” that’s been the perfect cover story for my little systemic curse. I can ignore the judgmental stares from other people, but the one thing I can’t fix is the fact that Julian King doesn’t like me. When we were kids, it was easy. Hugs, kisses, being carried around—it was all perfectly normal. But the moment puberty hit, Julian started avoiding me. No touching, no getting close. He even got a girlfriend just to keep me at bay. The system was already forcing me to live without boundaries; I couldn’t bring myself to be immoral, too. So, without my daily dose of Julian, my life’s clock began its final countdown. And today, August 15th, on my twenty-second birthday, it’s about to hit zero. “Time remaining: five hours, seven minutes, and thirty-nine seconds.” It’s 6:53 PM. That means when the clock strikes midnight, my heart will just… stop. My body will be discovered the next day. Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest. The system’s planned exit for me was so… boring. So, for my grand finale, I booked the presidential suite and ordered five male models. “SHOCKER: Popular Food Blogger Dies Suddenly in Hotel After Wild Night with Multiple Male Models!” Now that has a ring to it. If you’re going to go, go out with a bang. “System,” I whispered, “please let me die painlessly at the peak of my happiness. Thank you.” The system remained silent. 2 Let me tell you, pretty-boy models are worth every penny. Six-packs, broad shoulders, long legs—the works. They surrounded me, pouring drinks, dancing, and calling me “beautiful” until my head was spinning with delight. Any one of them was better than Julian, who only ever called me “Ivy” in that cold, flat tone, telling me not to waste my time on him. “You’re drifting off, beautiful. Am I not keeping you entertained?” The handsomest of the five leaned in close, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and pulling me into his solid chest. Over the thumping bass of the music, he whispered right next to my ear, his voice laced with a smile. “Why don’t you send the others away? Let it be just me and you, huh?” I melted back into his embrace and smirked. “Why do you think I ordered five, sweetheart? I have a big appetite.” “What if I can handle it?” he chuckled, his voice a low rumble against my back. “I think I’ve got what it takes to earn all five paychecks myself. What do you say, beautiful? Give me a shot?” Thank God for the alcohol, or my blush would have been a dead giveaway. I was a complete novice at this. The only person I’d ever chased was Julian, and the furthest I’d ever gotten was stealing a quick peck on the cheek. This was the boldest thing I’d ever done. And of course, I run into a guy this hot and this smooth. Honey, if I wasn’t scheduled to kick the bucket tomorrow, I’d take you home and keep you forever. BANG! BANG! BANG! Someone was pounding on the door, the sound barely audible over the music. I froze. Did we get a noise complaint? I tried to move, but the arms around my waist didn’t budge. I patted his hand. “Let go. It’s probably the neighbors.” “Nope,” he murmured, resting his chin on my shoulder and nuzzling against my neck. “What if they’re mean? I have to protect you.” Wow. This kid must really need the money. 3 The pounding grew more frantic. Not wanting to cause a scene, I let him hold onto me as I stumbled toward the door. I opened it just a crack, peering out to see what the fuss was about. My eyes met a familiar face, and my blood ran cold. Julian? Oh, hell no. My body went rigid. My first instinct was to slam the door and pretend nothing ever happened, but Julian was faster. He wedged his foot in the opening, blocking my escape. He lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine. He looked like he was interrogating a criminal. “What… what do you want?” I stammered. Julian’s eyes narrowed, his gaze dropping to the arm wrapped around my waist. His expression darkened instantly. “Well, Ivy. Looks like you’re having a real party.” My face burned with embarrassment. But then I remembered I was about to die anyway. What did it matter? I lifted my chin defiantly. “What’s it to you? I told you, if you don’t want me, there are plenty of guys who do. I’ve got four more in here, you know!” “Good. That’s just great.” A slow, chilling smile spread across Julian’s face. It was a handsome smile, but the storm brewing in his dark eyes terrified me. Then, he lifted his left hand and crooked a finger. “Vice raid! Nobody move!” Oh, right. I forgot to mention. Julian’s day job? He’s the captain of the city’s vice squad. 4 “Take all the men into custody!” The words were clipped, laced with a fury that was barely contained. Before I could react, a dozen officers swarmed past him, slamming the door wide open and storming into the room. “Hands on your head! Get on the ground, now!” The four other models, all shirtless and in the middle of a beer-fueled dance party, froze in shock. They dropped their bottles and scrambled to the floor, hands clasped behind their heads. Julian’s gaze shifted to the man still holding me, his voice dropping another ten degrees. “You too.” “Hey, what’s the big idea, officer?” the model—my model—said, tightening his grip on me. He didn’t let go. “I finally get the girl of my dreams, and I invite my buddies over to celebrate. Is that a crime?” He actually had the nerve to sound indignant. “In fact, you guys are the ones barging into our private room without a warrant. I think I have grounds for a complaint here.” I sucked in a sharp breath. Was this kid drunk? What was he saying? Julian’s face grew even darker. He stared at me, his eyes burning with an intensity I knew all too well. This was him at his absolute limit. “Ivy,” he said again, his voice dangerously low. I opened my mouth to speak, but the arm around my waist squeezed tighter. My model leaned in, pretending to nuzzle me, and whispered against my ear. “Play along unless you want to spend the night in a holding cell.” “Uh, right!” I blurted out, catching on. “We just… we just got together! We’re celebrating! Is that illegal?” 5 To my surprise, Julian let out a dark, wicked laugh. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in my face. “This is your idea of a celebration?” On the screen was the social media post I’d made a few hours earlier. The caption read: “Who knows the joy of spending money! I’m gonna die in the arms of male models tonight!” The picture was of me, surrounded by the five models, laughing hysterically. My stomach dropped. But that’s impossible. I’d set that post to private, only visible to a specific friend group. Who would have screenshotted it and sent it to Julian? “And for the record,” Julian sneered at my model, “we received an official complaint from the hotel. So go ahead and file your complaint. Be my guest.” He took a step forward, yanked me out of the model’s arms, and surveyed the chaotic, party-strewn room. Up close, I could feel the rage radiating off him. “Get dressed. You’re all coming with me.” The models grumbled as they put on their shirts, shooting me resentful looks. I stared mournfully at their disappearing abs. My model was the last one to get dressed. As I tried to sneak one last, longing glance, a hand covered my eyes. Ding! Life value +10 days. A warm, solid chest pressed against my back. Julian’s unique scent filled my senses, and for a moment, all I could hear was the frantic thumping of my own heart. “Sir, we have everyone. That just leaves…” an officer started to say, his voice trailing off. Leaves what? Me? “The woman stays with me,” Julian’s voice was a low growl, each word deliberate. “For a… private… interrogation.” He said it with such venom, you’d think he wanted to tear me apart. If I didn’t know for a fact that he despised me, I might have even thought he was jealous. 6 I thought he was taking me to the station. He didn’t. Julian sent his team ahead with the five models to start the paperwork. Once we were alone, he released his grip on me and kicked the hotel room door shut with a loud SLAM that made me flinch. I shrank back. “Aren’t… aren’t we leaving?” He shot me a glare, saying nothing as he shrugged off his uniform jacket and tugged at the collar of his shirt. In the dim hotel lighting, I could see the fury simmering in his dark eyes. He stalked toward me, backing me up against the wall until I had nowhere to go. He planted his hands on either side of my head, trapping me. “Ivy,” he began, his voice a low growl. “Wasn’t it you who said you loved me so much you couldn’t live without me? That I was the only one for you, forever?” “Is this what you call love?” For some reason, I heard a flicker of… hurt in his voice. But what right did he have to be hurt? I was the one who should be upset! Do you have any idea how much this room cost? How much the appearance fee for five models is? I was on the verge of death! Couldn’t I have a little fun before I went? “Ivy! Answer me!” he roared. His shout unleashed all the pent-up frustration and grief inside me. Tears welled in my eyes. “Yes! This is my love! What’s wrong with it? Fine, I’ll stop chasing you, is that what you want?!” “You think I’m annoying, right? Shameless? Well, I won’t bother you anymore, okay?” “You want to arrest me? Interrogate me? Go ahead! There’s nothing to interrogate. I’ll tell you right now, yes, I hired all five of them. Because tonight, Ivy Jones was going to—” A hand suddenly cupped the back of my head, and a pair of warm lips crashed down on mine, silencing my tirade. My eyes flew open in shock. A mechanical voice echoed in my head: Ding! Life value +30 days. In the next moment, Julian pushed me onto the sofa, pinning me with one hand while the other started unbuttoning his shirt. And then, clear as day, I heard his voice in my mind: 【My wife is misbehaving. She needs to be punished.】 【She needs a little reminder.】 7 I was stunned. I blinked, completely bewildered. Julian was kissing me, so where was that voice coming from? “Ouch.” A sharp pain on my lip made me wince. I tried to push him away, but he caught my hands, guiding them down his chest, past the now-unbuttoned shirt— My heart leaped into my throat. My palm came to rest on his hard, chiseled abdomen. My eyes widened. My brain short-circuited. And then I heard it again, that clear, internal voice: 【Fine. Liking to touch me is still a form of liking me. I’ll take it. I won’t hold it against her.】 【If I keep being so stubborn, I’m going to lose her for good.】 【These abs I’ve been working on for two years have to be good, right? Better than those pretty boys’, at least. She’ll like them, won’t she?】 Just as suddenly, Julian pulled back. His expression was still cold, but his lips parted. “You like abs, don’t you? Touch them all you want.” Honestly, under normal circumstances, that comment would have infuriated me. What did he take me for? Did he think I’d just touch anyone? But the voices I’d just heard left me no room for anger. What was that? Was I hearing… Julian’s thoughts? “Ju-Julian, why did you… why did you ki—” My head was buzzing. I just wanted to understand what was happening. But a sharp knock on the door cut me off. A hushed voice came from the other side. “Captain King… call from upstairs. They’re saying it was a misunderstanding. We have to let them go.” The color drained from Julian’s face. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and deep. “Well, well, Ivy. Looks like one of your little boy toys has some serious connections.” Boy toys? They were professional models, thank you very much! 8 Julian let go of me. He stood there silently, his expression grim, and slowly began re-buttoning his shirt with his long, elegant fingers. I sat on the sofa in a daze, his anxious inner monologue still rattling in my head: 【He’s not some rich heir, is he?】 【If he is, my job doesn’t look so impressive anymore, does it?】 What was he even thinking about? I ran a hand through my hair, wishing I could ask my system what was going on. But my system was purely functional. It tracked my life value and nothing else. No chat feature. It was usually just me talking at it out of boredom. Julian opened the door. Leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, was the model from before—the handsome one. He raised an eyebrow at Julian. “Take care, officer~” Almost instantly, Julian’s head snapped back toward me. “Ivy. You’re coming back to the station with me.” Before I could even react, the model chuckled. “Didn’t they just confirm it was a misunderstanding? What’s this, officer? Abuse of power? On what grounds?” He took a step forward, standing toe-to-toe with Julian. At six-foot-one, Julian was tall, but this kid was easily his match. They faced off, the animosity between them palpable. The air grew thick with tension. After a few silent, charged seconds, Julian suddenly smirked. A few strands of dark hair fell across his forehead as he cocked his head in a challenge. “On the grounds that she doesn’t want her parents to find out about this.” “I’m taking her with me. You got a problem with that?” At the same time, his inner voice screamed: 【Die, pretty boy! My wife and I have history. Who the hell are you?】 9 When it came to my parents, Julian had me cornered. My family situation was… complicated. My mother passed away when I was young. The woman in my house now is my stepmother, who has her own son. Our relationship is best described as a fragile, unspoken truce. My father, thanks to a leg up from my maternal grandfather, had become a powerful politician. His life revolved around networking and appearances. His entire world was built on reputation. He showed his affection for me primarily through a generous allowance, but his expectations were rigid: I could live my life, as long as I never, ever embarrassed him. My decision to become a food blogger instead of taking a cushy government job after graduation had sent him into a rage. Just yesterday, he’d finally kicked me out of the house. His parting words were, “Let’s just see how far you get without this family’s name and money.” The problem was, I was a fresh graduate. I hadn’t made any real money yet. The suite and the five models had cost me every penny I had to my name. What was meant to be a final, glorious celebration had just become the prelude to my life on the streets. If my father found out I’d hired five male models… I wouldn’t need the system to kill me. He’d do it himself. So, faced with Julian’s “dad” card, I had no choice but to surrender. “Let’s go.” 10 I never would have guessed the model—the kid—drove a heavy-duty motorcycle. How could someone who supposedly needed money so badly afford such an expensive bike? “Come on, beautiful. I’ll give you a ride to the station.” The kid, now dressed in a cool black utility jacket, handed me a helmet with a sweet, boyish grin. “Consider it part of the service you paid for.” Ugh, if I could, I’d ask for a partial refund. Julian was in the hotel lobby, speaking with the manager. He glanced over at us, and his face immediately hardened. He strode toward me. “Ivy, wait for me in the car.” “No need to trouble you, officer,” the kid said, snapping his helmet on and giving Julian a jaun. “I’ll deliver her personally.” With that, he wrapped his arms around my waist, lifted me onto the back of the bike, and swung his leg over. The engine roared to life, and before I could even process what was happening, we shot forward like a bullet. I screamed, instinctively wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. The wind whipped past my ears. I could smell the faint, familiar scent of tobacco on his jacket. His voice was muffled by the helmet, but I heard him shout against the wind. “My name’s Leo, by the way!” “Remember it!” 11 At the station. Julian, who had arrived shortly after me, was still radiating icy fury as he dragged me inside. Leo, clever as he was, had managed to get my number and add me on social media just before Julian’s car pulled up, then sped off into the night. Leaving me to face the music, feeling utterly miserable. The officer at the front desk saw us and gave me a once-over, clearly assuming I was some kind of streetwalker Julian had arrested. He tutted. “Such a pretty girl. Why throw your life away like this? Young women these days, think they can use their looks to make a quick buck. You’ll regret it one day.” I was about to argue, but Julian beat me to it, tapping the officer on the head. “Watch your mouth.” “She’s with me.” He said it so casually, but my heart skipped a beat. My mind flashed back to the kiss in the hotel room. Right. I still hadn’t asked him about that. “Oh, with you~~” The officer’s expression immediately shifted to one of pure gossip. He opened his mouth to ask me something, but Julian grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt and pulled me toward his desk. “I’m going to change. Wait here.” “Why did you even bring me here? I didn’t do anything illegal.” Just get it over with, whatever it is. My hotel room was paid for until noon tomorrow. I wanted to go back and get some sleep. “Who says you didn’t?” Julian snorted, a strange look on his face. “We’ll settle this at home.” Huh? At home? Before I could ask, he disappeared into a back room. The gossipy officer immediately sidled up to me. “So, miss, you and Captain King… how far have you two gone, hehe?” 12 To the kissing stage. But without a title, without any explanation. In fact, it was textbook bad-boy behavior. If it weren’t for those inner thoughts that had piqued my curiosity, I’d probably want to punch him. I quickly shook my head. “No, no, it’s not like that. We’re just childhood friends. I’m not his girlfriend…” Then a thought struck me. “He’s been with his girlfriend for two or three years now, right? Hasn’t he introduced you guys?” I asked it casually, but my question seemed to hit the pause button on the entire office. Everyone stared at me. Then, a younger officer waved his hand dismissively, a “what are you talking about” look on his face. “You’ve got to be kidding!” he laughed. “Captain King is the most eligible bachelor in this entire precinct.” “I went to the police academy with him and we’ve worked together ever since. I have never once seen him with a girlfriend.” “Two or three years? Where did you hear that?” I was dumbfounded. Was I crazy, or were they? How could Julian not have a girlfriend? 13 Before I could press further, Julian emerged, changed into civilian clothes. Damn him. He was the one who had captivated me all those years ago for a reason. Even in a simple gray hoodie and sweatpants, he looked effortlessly handsome. He said his goodbyes to his colleagues, a slight, roguish smile playing on his lips. Then he walked over to me and jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s go. Home.” I blinked. “Whose home?” “Mine.” Seeing my bewildered expression, he explained, “My housekeeper is on leave visiting her grandkids. I need a new one.” He looked me up and down. “Besides, do you have anywhere else to go?” I rolled my eyes. “Excuse me, I’m a food blogger, not a housekeeper.” Julian smirked. “Right. A food blogger with nowhere to go but a hotel room.” Hmph! Ivy Jones would rather starve on the streets, freeze to death outside, than… Julian added quietly, “If you don’t come, I’ll just screenshot that social media post of you and your five models and send it to your father.” At the mention of my dad, all my fight drained away. I slumped my shoulders and trudged after him. Suddenly, I heard a faint 【Yes!】 in my head. I snapped my head up, staring at Julian’s back, and then I heard it again: 【Finally got my wife home.】 【Her dad is still useful for something.】 【Although, thinking about her dad… ugh, this is going to be a long road. I have to win over both the wife and the father-in-law.】 If I couldn’t tell something was seriously up by now, I’d have to be an idiot. 14 Julian’s family hadn’t been well-off when we were kids. His parents were low-level civil servants who lived in the apartment below mine, a perk of their government jobs. My father, a notorious snob, never gave them the time of day, always maintaining an air of superiority. So, it wasn’t just me who was scared of my dad; Julian was too. I was used to it. But because my mom was gone, my dad favored my stepbrother, and my stepmom specialized in passive-aggressive remarks, I always felt like an outsider in my own home. I spent most of my time at Julian’s, eating his mom’s cooking and, because I was younger, shamelessly begging for hugs and piggyback rides. Most of my life value was accumulated during those years. We were the epitome of childhood sweethearts. Until I turned eighteen. That year, two major things happened. First, Julian’s parents quit their jobs and went into business for themselves. They moved away. Second, just before he transferred schools, Julian suddenly got a girlfriend: the most popular girl in school, Cici Chen. We didn’t lose touch completely. I’d occasionally see updates from his mom on social media. But we grew distant. I knew from his mom that his dad’s business was booming, and their financial situation had changed dramatically in just a few years. Julian later got into the police academy, which meant four years of a completely regimented, cloistered life. After graduating, his talent and a bit of family influence helped him climb the ranks quickly. He made captain in just a year and a half. But he never posted anything online, so I had no idea what happened between him and Cici. Julian was a serious, steady guy; he wouldn’t break up with someone lightly. I just assumed they were still together. But now… his colleagues were saying he didn’t have a girlfriend? 15 “Julian, back at the hotel… why did you kiss me?” I’m not one to bottle things up. If I have a question, I ask it. He was driving, and he didn’t even glance at me. His expression was impossibly calm. But then, I heard the chaos in his mind: 【Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!】 【I waited all this time for you to graduate, and the first thing you do is go find a bunch of escorts?】 【And you said all those things just to piss me off!】 My heart hammered against my ribs. I clutched my phone, my breathing shallow. Did I hear that right? Julian… loves me? This jerk actually loves me?! He was the one who started pushing me away when he was fifteen, always telling me to stay away, not to touch him. Sometimes he’d get so angry he’d snap, “Ivy, have you no shame?” and storm off. I confessed to him when I was sixteen and chased him for two years, and all he did was reject me with a weary look, telling me to think about whether I really liked him. And what was the result of all my thinking? He got a girlfriend! That wasn’t him telling me to think; that was him telling me he wasn’t interested. After his family moved, we went to different universities. I understood the police academy was strict, but there were holidays, right? Times he could use his phone? He never once—not once—contacted me. And he calls that love? “You have deviated from the route. Rerouting…” Julian irritably swiped the navigation app away, tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, and said, staring straight ahead, “You talk too much, Ivy.” If it weren’t for the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from the force, I might have actually believed him. Sure, I talk too much. Or maybe you just can’t come up with a good lie.

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My best friend and I were transported to a post-apocalyptic world where women were a vanishing species. Here, the men gave us the best food and protected us with their lives. After a while, my friend didn’t want to go back. “This is paradise,” she said. But as I watched the men who guarded us day and night, a chill crept down my spine. I knew that no kindness in this world comes without a price. And I knew that no matter the era, the male’s primary instinct is to reproduce. 1 By the time I fully grasped our situation, the Enforcers had already slipped inside the apartment Vivian and I shared. There were eight of them. Clad in black uniforms, they stood like shadows in the dim light—young, silent, and cold as ice. After a long moment, two of them broke away from the group and headed toward our separate bedrooms. I feigned sleep, my heart hammering against my ribs, praying it was just a routine patrol. But a cold dread in my gut told me otherwise. They were here to make us conceive. I’d overheard the doctors that morning during our physical examinations. “Their physical condition is extraordinary. The Citadel hasn’t seen specimens this healthy in twenty years.” “We’ve already identified eight candidates with high genetic compatibility.” “If all goes well, we’ll have new life by this time next year.” “God has finally shown us mercy.” There had been other women at the examination, so I hadn’t realized they were talking about Vivian and me. After the check-up, we were moved to this place—the Spire, the only building in the Citadel with a view of the world outside the walls. On the table, alongside our daily rations of beef, milk, and bread, were two perfect, gleaming apples—a luxury reserved for the Citadel’s elite. The common citizens scraped by on corn and sweet potatoes. Though Vivian and I were classified as civilians when we arrived, we were given these precious foods. I knew the Citadel operated under a strict system of apocalyptic rationing: you get what you give. We were receiving something precious, which meant we were expected to give something precious in return. Vivian and I had nothing. Nothing but our bodies. Vivian picked up her glass of milk, as she always did, and stood by the window, gazing out at the vast, desolate landscape. The sunlight bathed her, making her fair skin glow. She looked like an angel, pure and serene. I just stared at the food, my stomach churning with anxiety. “What’s wrong?” Vivian asked, her brow furrowed with concern. I told her what I’d overheard. “This place is a nightmare, Viv. We have to find a way back home. Fast.” She was silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “Chloe… is it really so bad here?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Bad? The apocalypse had raged for a century. The ecosystem was shattered, the climate hostile, food was scarce, and the walking dead roamed the earth. This place was hell. But she continued, “Here, we have food and shelter. We don’t have to worry about finding a job, or paying off a mortgage. No one hurts us. Everyone cares for us, looks after us. For me… this is a paradise.” I shook my head. “No kindness comes without a price, Viv. There’s always a reason, always a cost. Women are rare here. Our bodies, our wombs—that’s the price.” Vivian brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “But Chloe,” she said quietly, “back home, didn’t we have to give our bodies and our fertility, too?” 2 The man entered my room and stopped at the foot of my bed. I recognized him. His name was Jax. The son of the Citadel’s former Commander. The coldest, most ruthless Enforcer. Rumor had it he’d killed his own parents when he was just ten. The first time I saw him, I was struck by his looks. The next second, the barrel of his gun was pressed against my forehead. Vivian and I had been at an amusement park when a sinkhole opened up beneath us. I was still wearing my gray-blue contacts from that day. Gray-blue eyes. The mark of the Infected. Jax had mistaken me for one of them. The misunderstanding was cleared up, but he never stopped despising me. Hated me for being a human who would decorate her eyes in the color of the enemy. Yet, the Citadel had assigned him to be our guardian. He was a man of absolute discipline; he followed his orders, even if it meant protecting someone he loathed. The feeling was mutual. Plenty of people in the Citadel hated him. They called the Enforcers the dogs of the elite, and Jax was the most loyal, most vicious of the pack. He stood there, a silent silhouette. I heard the metallic click as he unbuckled his belt. I was right. He was here for the Pairing. I dropped the pretense of sleep and sat up, pressing the small knife I’d hidden to my throat. “Get out,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Or I’ll die right in front of you.” I had sharpened the blade myself. My hand trembled slightly, and the edge bit into my skin. A warm trickle of blood traced a path down my neck. I was gambling. Gambling that he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let me die. It worked. Jax froze. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, as if I wasn’t supposed to be awake. The milk. I hadn’t drunk my milk. Vivian, not wanting it to go to waste, had drunk mine too. That’s why she was already sound asleep. They had drugged us. And right now, another man was in her room. “I said get out,” I repeated, pressing the knife harder. “Take all of them with you.” But in a blur of motion, he snatched the knife from my hand and clamped his other hand over my mouth. I struggled, but it was useless. For the first time, I understood the raw, hopeless disparity in strength between a man and a woman, especially a man like him—the most skilled fighter in the Citadel. Tears of rage and despair streamed down my face. I would not be forcibly bred. I bit down on his hand, hard. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. He didn’t even flinch. But he didn’t move to hurt me, either. A voice crackled from his comms unit. “Major Jax, what’s your status?” He glanced at me. “She’s awake. Uncooperative. Attempted self-harm.” “Acknowledged,” the voice replied. “Abort the mission for now. Don’t let her hurt herself.” “Understood,” Jax said. He released me. I shoved him away and scrambled off the bed, intending to run to Vivian’s room. But he caught me, throwing me back onto the mattress. I thought he was going to defy his orders. “What,” I sneered, “is the Commander’s dog going to disobey his master now?” He looked down at me, his eyes hooded. Without a word, he unbuckled his belt, but this time he used it to tie my hands to the headboard. He gagged me with a strip of cloth, then pulled a chair over and sat facing me. 3 In the suffocating silence of the night, the rhythmic creak of the iron bedframe in Vivian’s room was brutally clear. So were her soft cries. They were supposed to be cries of pleasure. She was meant to be asleep, but now she was lost in a drugged ecstasy. It seemed the milk contained more than just a sedative. And there were still six other men outside. The doctors had said they were all compatible candidates. I didn’t know if they were all supposed to take a turn. A wave of guilt washed over me. I should have prepared her. After an eternity, the sounds from her room finally stopped. I heard muffled voices, and then the man led Vivian away. Panic seized me. The moment Jax untied me, I demanded, “Where are you taking her?” He didn’t answer directly. “Your current state will only agitate her. You’ll see each other again when the time is right.” I asked the others, but they ignored me. For the first time in the two months since we’d arrived, Vivian and I were completely separated. 4 They put me in isolation. Even Jax, my constant shadow, was gone. The door was locked. I picked up a chair and hurled it at the window, but it bounced off. The glass was reinforced, unbreakable by my strength. The Spire, once a vantage point, was now a cage in the sky. I refused to eat, terrified they would drug me again. After a day and a night of this, Jax appeared with an old, white-haired man. Hope flickered within me. This was the man who had stopped Jax from shooting me when he thought I was Infected. I didn’t know his title, but his bearing and attire suggested he outranked Jax. He smiled kindly. “Is the food not to your liking? Tell grandpa what you want to eat, and I’ll have someone make it for you.” “Let me and my friend go,” I pleaded, thinking he was my savior. “We can work for our food.” I told him we had both studied bioengineering, that we could contribute to the Citadel. The old man listened patiently, then patted my head. “Child, your work is to bear children.” I stared at him, my hope turning to ash. I thought a man like him, so full of wisdom, would understand. That he would know childbirth should never be forced. He gestured to Jax. “Is Major Jax not to your liking? He is the most handsome man we have, and his genetic compatibility with you is the highest. But if you truly cannot accept him, you may choose someone else. Your feelings are what matter most. We will respect your choice.” I backed away slowly. “I will not be a breeding machine. I would rather die.” The old man’s smile never wavered. “As you wish.” He calmly ordered Jax to remove all food and water from my room. Not a single crumb, not a single drop. Jax hesitated. “All of it, sir?” “All of it.” Jax looked like he wanted to protest, but he said nothing. It didn’t matter to me. At that moment, I truly believed death was better than this. But in the days that followed, they gave me nothing but a small cup of corn juice each day to keep me alive. The windows were sealed with steel plates, plunging me into absolute darkness and silence. At first, I could bear the hunger and the blackness, clinging to memories of my old life. But the hunger grew, a fire scorching my stomach and throat, becoming unbearable. By the seventh day, my consciousness began to fray. I thought I heard Vivian crying, begging someone to save me. I dragged myself to the door, my weak hands slapping against the cold steel. It felt like an eternity before a pair of leather boots appeared in the sliver of light under the door. The light was so bright it seared my eyes. I clutched at the boots. “I… I agree…” I rasped. A bowl of plain white porridge was placed before me. I grabbed it with both hands, gulping it down like a starving animal. I had thought my will was as strong as a revolutionary martyr’s, but a single bowl of bland porridge brought me to my knees. I knew then that they would have let me starve to death. In their world, procreation was more important than life itself. When I finished, I finally had the strength to look up. It was Jax. His face was as impassive as ever. “You’ll hurt your stomach eating so fast,” he said, his voice flat. Another man who came with him scoffed. “I thought you were tough. Couldn’t even last seven days. There was once someone who…” Jax shot him a look, and the man fell silent. The old man had come too, along with several other candidates for the Pairing. He smiled that same kind smile. “We respect your feelings. You may choose one that you like.” 5 I still chose Jax. He had the highest genetic compatibility with me. The old man might have offered a choice, but he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Besides, the female doctor who examined me earlier had explained the reality of the situation. “Pairing with the highest match is better for your body,” she had said. “If a lower-match candidate fails to impregnate you within two months, he will be replaced. They will keep replacing them until you conceive.” “Why not use artificial insemination?” I’d asked. “Because technologically conceived infants all develop fatal illnesses around the six or seven-month mark. Only natural gestation is stable.” “Do all the women here live like this?” She shook her head, her expression grim. “Not all of them. Some women… can no longer bear children.” “Because they’re too old?” She didn’t answer. She reported to the old man that my body was too weak from starvation and I would need several days to recover before the Pairing. He refused. She sighed and turned to me, her voice low. “Major Jax isn’t a bad person. Since you’ve accepted this, try to accept him. It will be easier for you, and better for your future.” Her sincerity was genuine. She must have lived through her own version of this hell. The room was empty except for Jax and me. He was cleaning his handgun. I stood by the window, looking at a white building in the distance. It was the building we had appeared in front of when we first arrived. I had tried to get inside several times, searching for a way back, but it was always sealed off. I had surrendered to the present, but I never planned to stay here forever. I had to find a way into that building. 6 After my shower, I lay on the bed. In the quiet of the night, I could hear faint sounds of lovemaking echoing through the Spire, from the bottom floor to the top. It was like an inescapable web, suffocating me. Jax lowered himself onto me. The pain was sharp. I needed a distraction. “Did your last Pairing partner have a child?” I asked. His hands gripped my waist. “She died.” “How?” “Infection.” “Did she conceive before she died?” “No. We had never even met.” He looked at me, and his amber eyes held no desire. Only instinct. The primal instinct to reproduce. He didn’t even take off his shirt. The stiff fabric of his uniform chafed my skin. His gun was still in his hand, a symbol of his constant vigilance. I stared at the cold moon outside the window and prayed for dawn. This went on for three nights. On the morning of the fourth day, the Citadel’s alarms blared. The Infected were attacking. Jax wasn’t supposed to be on the front lines, but the situation was critical. He was needed. My second-highest match was left to guard me. He was young, no older than seventeen or eighteen, and as silent as Jax. “What’s your name?” I asked. His eyes were hidden in the shadow of his cap, but the tips of his ears turned red. “Ethan.” I smiled. “That’s a nice name.” “Th-thank you,” he stammered. As I got up to dress, he turned to leave. I stopped him. “You don’t have to be so formal. If I’m not pregnant in two months, you’ll be the one in this bed with me.” He froze. “The Major… his compatibility with you is the highest. You will succeed.” “Who knows. I hear a lot of them fail.” “N-no. The Major is very… capable.” “This isn’t about being capable.” I walked over to him and looked up into his eyes. They were beautiful, and filled with panic. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I’d pushed enough. “I’m hungry. Could you get me something to eat?” “Of course.” He practically fled the room. It was then that they brought Vivian back. 7 Vivian threw her arms around me, her eyes filled with tears. “You’re so thin,” she whispered. “Where have you been?” I asked urgently. “Just on the floor below.” “With who?” “A few other girls, and…” She bit her lip, glancing toward the door. I followed her gaze and saw the man who had entered her room that night. I hadn’t seen him clearly then, but now I recognized him. He was Landon, the son of the current Commander. It was strange. Why were all the highest-compatibility candidates the sons of the elite? It was even stranger that Landon would agree to a Pairing with Vivian. He was notoriously arrogant, looking down on commoners and even advocating for abandoning them to conserve resources for the elite. It was laughable. Even with less than three hundred thousand people left, this Citadel was still rigidly divided by class. “You’ve been with him this whole time?” I asked. Vivian nodded faintly. “So you know what’s been happening to us?” “Yes.” “And you’re willing to go through with it?” “Willing or not, I can’t change anything.” Her personality had always been one of quiet acceptance, a result of being orphaned and raised by relatives. “We’re best friends, Viv. I’m not leaving you here alone,” I said, my voice firm. “If I find a way back, you’re coming with me. Right?” She nodded. “Yes.” A sliver of relief washed over me. Ever since she’d called this place a paradise, I had been terrified she would actually choose to stay. 8 I fell into a routine, biding my time, waiting for an opportunity. During the day, I took my medicine and ate my meals. Vivian and I would rehash the details of our arrival, searching for any clue. At night, I lay on the narrow bed and endured Jax. Vivian adapted far better than I did. She learned to navigate Landon’s arrogance and his temper. Ten days later, my period arrived right on schedule. The doctors were disappointed, blaming it on my previous starvation. But their spirits lifted soon after. Vivian was pregnant. The Citadel erupted in celebration. I didn’t understand the euphoria until Vivian told me she was the first woman to conceive naturally in almost five years. The situation was far worse than I had imagined. “No one has gotten pregnant in five years? Why?” I asked, shocked. “I don’t know the details. Only that around the twentieth year of the apocalypse, it became difficult for women to conceive. The numbers kept dropping, until five years ago, when it stopped completely.” “It has to be the environment.” When an environment becomes hostile, the first thing animals do is stop reproducing. Humans were animals, too. But humans had other means. So the Citadel had tried artificial insemination. When that failed, they developed the genetic compatibility Pairing program. That clearly hadn’t worked either. The harsh new world had changed women’s bodies, making them reject pregnancy. Vivian and I were different. We were from another time. Our bodies were untouched by this world’s decay. The fact that the Spire was filled with women, all enduring men night after night despite five years of failure, meant one thing. They weren’t just here for breeding experiments. They were here as outlets for the men’s desires. This was the apocalypse, after all. The Citadel maintained a veneer of civilization, but beneath it, the law of the jungle prevailed. And in the twisted dance of procreation and lust, women bore the entire burden. 9 Because Vivian was pregnant and I was being compliant, we were granted the freedom to move about the Spire. I explored every floor, searching for an escape route, but every level was guarded, the doors forged from reinforced steel. Ethan saw my probing and misunderstood. “You don’t need to be afraid. This is the most secure facility in the Citadel. Once the doors are locked, not even the Infected can get in. Even we can’t get out.” “What if there’s a fire? We’d all be trapped.” “That won’t happen. In a fire, all the doors unlock automatically. But there are no open flames allowed in the Spire.” I feigned disappointment. “So I can’t even go outside for some fresh air?” He nodded. “You’re too important. We can’t risk anything happening to you.” He was right. In a world of men, a lone woman was in constant danger. I met the other women confined to the Spire. Most were young and looked exhausted. They were curious about us, crowding around Vivian. “You’re so lucky, getting Paired with Major Landon. I’m stuck with brutes and old men.” “I just want to get pregnant so I don’t have to deal with so many of them.” “I want to get pregnant so I can eat meat. I haven’t had meat in so long.” “Let me touch you, for good luck.” They reached out to touch Vivian’s belly, their eyes filled with desperate hope. Only one older woman scoffed. “You think having a baby makes you a queen? You’ll see. You won’t even know how you died.” “You’re just jealous,” another girl shot back. “Yeah, you’re old and used up. You’re about to be sent to the labor division, so you can’t stand to see anyone else succeed.” The woman’s gaze swept over them, finally landing on Vivian and me. “Jealous? You’ll understand one day. This world was meant to end. You shouldn’t be trying to force it back to life.” I wanted to ask her what she meant, but Jax and Landon arrived. The chatter died instantly. Landon glared at Vivian. “Didn’t I tell you to be in your room at four?” “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away. Jax didn’t reprimand me, but he punished Ethan severely for failing to keep me on schedule. “It wasn’t his fault,” I said, trying to defend him. “I lost track of time.” Jax was unmoved. As Ethan was led away to receive his punishment, he shot me a grateful look. Back in our area, a doctor was drawing Vivian’s blood. It would be sent to the labs for research, to find out what made her different. If I conceived, I would face the same fate. Vivian hated needles. Her face was pale, her eyes squeezed shut. “Major Landon, why don’t you comfort her?” the doctor teased. With a child on the way, Vivian would be bound to Landon for life, her purpose to bear him more children. They would only be separated if he died. “If she can’t handle a little pain, how is she going to give birth?” Landon sneered. I went to Vivian and took her hands. “Don’t be afraid. It’ll be over in a second.” Her trembling subsided. Landon laughed. “What a touching display of sisterly love.” “Took your two eyes this long to figure that out?” I retorted. He shot up from his chair, furious that I dared to talk back. “Don’t,” Vivian cried, jumping in front of me. Jax stepped forward, placing a restraining hand on Landon’s shoulder. Landon snorted and stormed out.

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My whole class was thrown forward in time, to the year 3035. Humans, once the apex predators, were now a critically endangered species. Leo, the class slacker, was living it up. “Dude, this is awesome! They feed us, house us, even give us baths. Steak, lobster, little cakes—what’s not to love?” Mark, our class president, agreed. “AC, waterbeds, a pool… Seventy-eight degrees is the GOAT.” And Ariana, the class beauty, preened. “Eee, why are they always looking at me? Do they just, like, love me that much?” But I was the only one whose skin was crawling, whose mouth was as dry as dust. Oh, my dear, naive classmates. You’ve forgotten something. As an endangered species, it’s not just about being cherished, adored, and pampered. It’s also about being bred. Endlessly. 1 I was the last one they caught. Our Animal Science class was on a field trip to a national wilderness preserve to observe a wild panda. The transport vehicle overturned, and when we woke up, we were in the apocalypse. My leg was injured. I got separated from the others while looking for food. After a restless sleep, as I was dragging myself eastward up a mountain, he appeared again—the burly Insectoid in sterile gloves who’d been silently tracking me. I thrashed, trying to scramble away, my hands fumbling for a loose rock to throw. But the Insectoid, with his strangely delicate features, just stared at me with his huge, multifaceted compound eyes. A low, rhythmic chittering sound vibrated from his throat, as if trying to soothe me. He didn’t seem hostile. I was already at my limit. The wound on my leg had reopened, bleeding again. The Insectoid behind me chirped softly, a gentle summons. This time, I stopped my clumsy retreat and turned back. He had placed a piece of fruit on the ground. I swallowed hard. As my gaze dropped to the fruit, a sharp prick stung my ankle. A thin, insect-like needle delivered a paralyzing agent that spread through my body like ice. I was sedated. When I opened my eyes again, I was inside a completely alien architectural complex. Two other Insectoid guards opened a gate, revealing silvery structures that shimmered in the sun like liquid mercury. Holographic screens and rotating icons pulsed with information I couldn’t comprehend. Through the transparent walls on either side of me, I could see other humans huddled in corners, their faces distorted and strange. They were a mix of ethnicities, but they all shared unsettling traits: wide-set eyes, mismatched pupils, and thin, patchy hair. The moment I was lifted from the transparent containment unit, a wave of excitement swept through the facility. Every Insectoid swarmed toward me. They chittered and clicked, a sound of urgent, agitated delight. The thousands of tiny lenses in their compound eyes were fixed on me. One of them, who seemed to be a leader, extended a long, jointed appendage. The sedative still held me frozen; I could only watch as its hand descended and gently stroked my hair. A series of soft clicks, like laughter, echoed from the leader. The pupils in its countless tiny eyes dilated. If I were to judge by human emotions, it was pure joy. It seemed these Insectoids adored humans, especially our smooth skin and soft hair. 2 They took me to a private room that resembled a medical bay. An Insectoid medic tended to the wound on my leg. Their methods were nothing like human medicine; they were brutal. The dead flesh was simply carved away, with no anesthetic or medication. I was expected to just… heal. When the paralytic wore off, the pain was so intense I nearly passed out. Just then, an Insectoid caretaker brought me a bowl of milk. It was fresh, still warm and carrying a gamey scent. Gritting my teeth, I drank it all. The caretaker seemed pleased. It studied me for a long moment, then, when it thought no one was looking, its gloved hand reached out and patted my head. I fought down a wave of nausea and stayed perfectly still. My only strategy was to eat whatever they gave me and observe everything. My quiet compliance quickly earned me a reward. One day, after I’d finished my meal, my caretaker carefully lifted me. It used an iris scanner to activate a light-based transport strip, and we glided down a brightly lit corridor made of some unknown material. We stopped in front of a large room. The doors hissed open to reveal a bizarre collection of human furniture—chairs, tables, and benches, all looking like priceless antiques. And deeper inside, there were a dozen nutrient pods. Each pod held someone. In the nearest one, his eyes closed in sleep, was Leo, the class slacker. They were here. A jolt of panic shot through me. An Insectoid doctor in the room chittered something. Seeing my reaction, it gestured for my caretaker to put me down. I limped forward, peering into each pod. In the very center, a figure stirred and woke. It was our class beauty, Ariana. I raised my hand to tap on the glass. Suddenly, a mechanical arm shot out from the pod, and a line of text materialized in the air—some kind of description. “Ariana,” I rasped, my voice trembling. My caretaker let out a sharp, joyful cry. It was the first time I had spoken in days. It chittered to the doctor on duty, and a moment later, the pod doors began to open. Ariana was the first one lifted out by the mechanical arm, followed by the others. They woke up, rubbing their eyes and staring at me. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Tears welled up in my eyes. But my classmates just laughed, their relief palpable. 3 They had been captured two weeks before me. They knew more than I did. This was Earth, but not the Earth we knew. It had been conquered by an alien Insectoid species. Humans were nearly extinct, now classified as a federally protected endangered species. And we were the new darlings of Earth’s masters. The entire captive population numbered less than a hundred. We were being preserved with the effort and resources of a nation-state. Seeing my confusion, Leo grinned. “Think about how they used to treat pandas. That’s us now.” Below only one species, but above all else. Claire, our top student, tried to comfort me. “Don’t be scared, Barb. We’re safe now. They won’t hurt us. We were so worried about you.” In the time they’d been here, they’d already learned to decipher some of the Insectoids’ intentions. Their intelligence, which they demonstrated through these deductions, had earned them unprecedented attention. It was a positive feedback loop: constant care and escalating pampering had given them all the illusion of being princes and princesses. Claire said, “Based on their excitement and the symbols they’ve inscribed for us, I think the total human population is even lower than the panda population was. We made a bet. Leo says three thousand, Mark says one thousand, and Ariana thinks it’s eight hundred. Barb, what’s your bet?” How many? I didn’t know. I glanced over my shoulder. In the observation room behind us, the same Insectoid who’d brought me in was cleaning, a pair of sterile gloves on his hands. He kept stealing glances at me. In that moment, I saw something complex in his compound eyes. Was it… concern? Was he worried that we, the endangered, might come to harm? How ironic. Humans, the ancient and precious living fossils, had thrived on this planet for five million years with our incredible adaptability. We wiped out nearly 85% of Earth’s wild mammals and consumed half its plant life, becoming masters of the planet. And a thousand years later, we were the ones on the verge of extinction. Wait. Endangered species. My mind flashed back to the distorted faces of the humans I’d seen when I first arrived. I remembered a famous case from Australia, a tragic story of an isolated family whose inbreeding led to severe health problems in their children—facial deformities, poor eyesight, the inability to speak. Could it be that the other humans in this facility were… A terrifying thought took root in my mind. Beside me, my classmates were still chattering excitedly. “Man, this is the life! No 9-to-5 grind, they feed us, house us, even give us baths. Steak, lobster, little cakes…” Leo sighed contentedly. “AC, waterbeds, a pool,” Mark added. “Seventy-eight degrees is the best.” “Eee, they can’t stop looking at me,” Ariana whispered, fluffing her hair. “Do they just, like, adore me?” And I was the only one whose skin was crawling, whose mouth was as dry as dust. My dear classmates. You’ve forgotten. As an endangered species, it’s not just about being cherished and adored. You also have to be bred. Endlessly. 4 There were eight of us now, including me. All from the same vehicle, all friends. Four guys: Mark, Leo, Jax the athlete, and Simon, the quiet one with glasses. And four girls: myself, Ariana, Claire, and my introverted roommate, Jenna. A perfect set. Four males, four females. We all wore collars. The girls’ were silver, the boys’ were gold—a simple way to differentiate sexes. The symbols on them seemed to be serial numbers. If I wasn’t mistaken, mine was 88. The Insectoids kept calling me “Baba,” which sounded just like it. It also sounded eerily like my nickname, Barb. When I shared my terrible theory, Simon, the youngest, had the biggest reaction. His face turned beet red, his mouth hanging slightly open. Ariana shot him an annoyed look. “What are you staring at?” She gracefully tucked a curl behind her ear. “They wouldn’t do that, would they?” Mark and Claire fell silent. “They probably wouldn’t… at least, not right away,” Mark said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “We have to find a way to escape,” Claire whispered. We looked around. The room was under 360-degree surveillance. Our every move was exposed to the watchful eyes of our Insectoid caretakers. Their compound eyes stared, unblinking. This time, even Leo shivered. “No way… I’m still a virgin.” My roommate Jenna was on the verge of tears. “Barb, what are we going to do?” A typical insect has thousands of lenses in its compound eyes. Each one acts as a tiny, individual eye, capturing every minute movement and feeding it to the brain. To them, our every action, every flicker of an eyelid, every tightening of a muscle, was an eternity of slow motion. The moment Jenna started to cry, her designated caretaker began to move. “Stop crying!” I hissed. “Smile. Right now.” Jenna’s mouth trembled, twisting into a pained grimace. “What? Why?” “They can’t understand our words, but they can read our expressions. If you keep crying, they might think we’re hurting you. Think about how we separate fighting lab rats in the vivarium.” Everyone went quiet. Just then, I noticed the number of Insectoids outside the observation room had grown. They’d gathered silently, a crowd of them. From my time in the wilderness and the med bay, I’d learned that Insectoids distinguished rank by the necklaces they wore. Commoners wore stone or wooden beads. Professionals, like doctors, wore necklaces of terrestrial gems, like crystal. But the managers, the ones with authority, wore gold chains forged from metals brought to Earth by a supernova. The bigger the beads, the higher the rank. And right now, outside the glass, stood an Insectoid leader with a thick, heavy gold chain. The pair of antennae on its head twitched gently. Insect antennae are their most vital sensory organs, evolved from what were once legs on their heads. Some detect the taste of food, some sense sound, others smell. Right now, the leader’s antennae were quivering, pointed in our direction. That’s when I noticed it. Even in this situation, Ariana had put on perfume. Her hair was perfectly styled. She caught me staring and shrugged. “A girl’s got to look her best, no matter what. It was the last of my perfume, anyway.” The last of it was more than enough. The next second, the Insectoid leader pointed a clawed finger at Ariana. An Insectoid caretaker entered, gently scooped Ariana up, and carried her out. The leader nodded, satisfied, then its gaze swept over the rest of us. 5 “Are they choosing people?” Simon asked, his voice hollow. “Are they going to… pair us up now?” Mark and the other guys tensed, glancing instinctively at Simon. He flinched, his face turning a shade of red so deep it looked painful. Jax, ever the loyal friend, spoke up. “Doesn’t matter who they pick. We won’t… we won’t do anything.” Simon glanced at me. “Me… me neither.” But after taking Ariana, they didn’t take anyone else. The rest of the day passed in unnerving silence. A knot of anxiety tightened in our stomachs. As the only one who had survived outside for over a week, I had become their unwilling expert. But the truth was, I didn’t know anything. In that week, I hadn’t seen a single other living human. The ruins of our world—old houses, decaying parks—were almost completely covered by bizarre Insectoid structures. The ground was littered with the massive, discarded egg sacs and molted skins of their hatchlings, emitting a sour, unsettling stench. The wilderness was no place for humans anymore. The only survivors were in captivity. And in this facility, there were others besides us. As the thought occurred to me, I saw the same realization dawn on Mark and the others. We all rushed toward the transparent walls, but they crackled with electricity. A single touch sent a numbing jolt through our bodies. Our frantic movements attracted the attention of the caretakers. Mark was the first to be lifted away, and the others followed, one by one. Just before they took me, I yelled, “Cry! If you’re alone, just cry! Stop when you see one of us! If we do it enough, they’ll understand! It’s our only way to see each other!” 6 My advice worked. While the Insectoids’ rigid exoskeletons didn’t allow for many expressions, they had emotions. They were naturally drawn to the sight of a smiling human, especially a docile, obedient one. It was the same satisfaction we once got from our own pets, that feeling of affection and simple, devoted submission. On the third day of my solitary confinement, after my seventh crying jag and refusing all food and water, I was finally allowed to see my own kind again. But it wasn’t in person. It was through a holographic display that materialized all around me. I could even navigate the images myself. What I saw was worse than I imagined. Four of my classmates were already naked. Mark was curled up, eating. Simon was asleep. Leo was gulping down fruit juice and belching loudly. The Insectoids had figured out the optimal temperature for human comfort, a temperature where clothes were unnecessary. So they had simply taken them away. They loved the softness of human skin, the suppleness of our bodies, the same way humans once loved fluffy kittens and puppies. They were making us into what they loved. They had no moral compass to tell them otherwise. Jax had it the worst. The hair on his chest had been plucked out, one by one, leaving his skin raw and red. According to their health standards, a healthy human shouldn’t have hair there. After all, none of the others did. I watched the four of them for two days. Then, two days later, Mark’s feed vanished. Only three male classmates remained. Three more days passed. Jax’s feed disappeared. Now there were only two. A cold dread began to creep into my heart. A wild, absurd thought surfaced. If the Insectoids were capable of “liking” someone… was it possible they would consider our feelings when it came to breeding? Was that why the girls were only shown the feeds of the four boys? Did they think we were choosing a mate based on who we watched the longest? …But the only reason I watched Simon and Leo more was because they at least tried to cover themselves! 7 The thought spiraled, twisting into panic. Just then, he arrived. It was the Insectoid who had first brought me to the facility. He was filling in for my caretaker, cleaning the room. I looked at him, my eyes wide and pleading. His own multifaceted eyes didn’t move, but his antennae twitched. As the human he’d personally captured, he’d always kept a close watch on me. I knew it. I turned back to the screen and let my expression crumple, as if I were about to cry. He glanced around, then continued his sanitizing routine. But one of his appendages brushed, as if by accident, against my injured ankle. The wound had already scabbed over. It was still red, but it didn’t hurt much anymore. I understood instantly. The reason I was kept in a private room, the reason I hadn’t been put on display, was because I was injured. If I stayed injured, it would certainly affect my suitability for pairing. That night, under the thin paper-like sheet on my bed, I used my fingernails to claw open the wound. I clenched my teeth against the searing pain and ripped away the entire scab. Blood pooled on the floor, but I didn’t make a sound. The next morning, the Insectoid doctor returned. It stared at my leg for a long time, only producing bandages after I started to sob. As it worked, an assistant came in. They chittered back and forth, and the assistant pulled up a holographic chart. It was filled with wedge-shaped compatibility graphs. At the very top, I saw her designation: Number Two. Ariana. And trailing behind her code was a list of golden male codes. Not a single one of them belonged to our classmates. Could it be? I got my answer a month later. During that time, because my wound kept “reopening,” I remained in the medical bay. As soon as they tried to remove my clothes or raise the temperature, I would feign weakness, my body going limp. The constant infections and a missed period finally made me genuinely sick. I ran a fever. Now, even when the naked images of Leo and Simon flickered across the screen, I didn’t even glance at them. My Insectoid doctors conferred, chittering worriedly about my poor condition. That afternoon, hoping to lift my spirits, they changed the holographic content. And that’s when I saw her. Unprepared, I saw a completely transformed Ariana. 8 The once glamorous Ariana was unrecognizable. Her beautiful, wavy hair had been chopped off, and a faint red mark scarred her forehead from where she’d tried to strangle herself with it. She was in a magnificent, sprawling room with soft, padded walls. She wore no clothes. Her skin was a pale, milky white, and her body was incredibly round. She must have gained at least thirty pounds. An endless supply of liquid nutrients was available to her, along with glittering, jewel-encrusted toys. Her environment looked luxurious, with several Insectoid attendants fussing over her constantly. If she so much as glanced at a food item, it was brought to her instantly. If she frowned, it was taken away. It would have been a perfect picture, if not for the enormous, taut swell of her belly. In less than two months, her stomach had grown to a terrifying size. If she was carrying multiples, there had to be at least eight in there. Had these creatures lost their minds? She sat mechanically, hugging a paper pillow, muttering to herself. Whenever a bell chimed, her head would snap up, and a vacant smile would spread across her face as she looked toward the door. It was pure conditioning, like a dog responding to a bell. So what if you were treated like a national treasure? In the end, you were still just a pet. A rare, collectively owned pet. And Ariana, favored by the Insectoid leader, was simply the most prized—and the first to be broken. I scrambled to my feet, my wounded ankle dripping blood onto the floor. The room spun. I steadied myself, reaching a hand out. The image flickered and changed. And then I saw Claire and Jenna, who I hadn’t seen in ages. Their enclosure was different, seemingly more open. It had a crystal-walled antechamber that periodically opened to the outside, allowing sunlight to stream in. It was like a VIP habitat at a zoo. On the grassy patch outside, a bathtub shaped like a giant clamshell had been installed. Every ray of light was designed to reflect off the bathers’ skin, showcasing its smoothness and beauty. Claire was holding on better than the others, but only just. She sat inside, refusing to go out. On the plush cushions before her, she had painstakingly written the same word over and over in spilled milk: Escape. Escape. Escape. Jenna, however, was in the outdoor tub, awkwardly washing herself as the Insectoids watched. Every splash, every movement, was met with a chorus of excited clicks and chirps from the spectators. Occasionally, a bold young Insectoid would slap the holographic screen, only to be chided by its parent for being rude and frightening the precious human. Beyond the transparent crystal wall, rows of Insectoids stood, tier upon tier, their compound eyes wide, their mouths agape, watching the humans inside. This was so different from the dull, listless captives they were used to. This was the adorable, lively human they had always dreamed of. Jenna, who had always been shy and insecure about her looks, was now the most beloved human in the Insectoid world.

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I wanted the campus queen’s boyfriend. Badly. Because he was handsome, rich, and a genuinely good guy. And I was flat broke. He spent money on her like it was nothing, and I was practically drooling with envy. But the campus queen? She couldn’t get over the fact that he was “only” five-eleven. So when I heard they were on the rocks, I knew. This was my chance. 1 Vivian Knight, the undisputed queen of our department, was having it out with her trust-fund boyfriend, Asher Vaughn, right in front of the dorms. “What do you have besides a fat wallet?” she accused him, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re not even six feet tall. Are you even a real man?” It was a direct hit to his pride. His face went pale, then a blotchy green. He gritted his teeth. “Do you really think I can’t do better than you?” Vivian’s smirk was pure arrogance. “Asher, you have to admit it. I’m the best you’re ever going to get.” I slowed my pace, timing my path to brush right past Asher. Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I looked up, my eyes meeting his, his face just inches from mine. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, his voice surprisingly smooth. “Yes,” I practically shouted, nodding frantically. Vivian stared for a beat, then burst out laughing. Her eyes raked over my worn-out jeans and faded t-shirt with theatrical scorn. “I know you’re trying to make me jealous, Asher, but are you really this desperate? You can’t just grab the first charity case you see.” She leaned in close to me, a cruel glint in her eyes. “Well, well, little wallflower,” she whispered. “Playing with the big dogs now, are we?” She didn’t see me as a threat. Not even for a second. In her mind, this was just a desperate, heat-of-the-moment stunt. He would never actually want me as his girlfriend. And she was right. Any sane person, seeing the two of us side-by-side, would know who to choose. She was the statuesque, dazzling beauty who had turned heads from the moment she stepped on campus. And me? I was the mousy, invisible girl who didn’t own a single decent outfit and kept her head down so no one would notice her. My classmates called me the “little wallflower” to my face. In everyone’s eyes, I was pathetic, timid, and so insecure I couldn’t even look people in the eye when I spoke. In our year’s English department, Vivian and I were polar opposites. She was the supernova; I was the black hole. And by some cruel twist of fate, we were roommates. Vivian never bothered to hide her disgust for me. We shared a room, but she’d barely spoken a word to me. It was as if even acknowledging my existence would tarnish her radiant aura. With her looks, guys were constantly lining up for a chance. After playing the field, she’d finally settled on Asher Vaughn. You couldn’t blame her. He was just too rich. When he was pursuing her, he’d showered her with designer gifts without blinking an eye. It was an assault of brand names and luxury she couldn’t resist. After a month of being courted by half the campus, she chose Asher. And once they were official, the gifts didn’t stop. They got even more extravagant. One day, I overheard my other roommates whispering that the new handbag Vivian had just received was worth over ten thousand dollars. The shock was a physical blow. Ten thousand dollars for a bag? It was beyond my comprehension. What kind of purse could possibly cost that much? Was it lined with gold? My entire family’s annual income was less than that. In that moment, a single, consuming thought took root in my mind. I wish Asher Vaughn was my boyfriend. 2 Maybe it was the sheer scale of Asher’s wealth that did it, but I started to become curious about him. Vivian mentioned him in the dorm constantly. At first, it was all bragging. Lately, it had been all complaining. He wasn’t thoughtful enough, she’d whine. He didn’t know how to comfort her. He just threw money at every problem. “Every time I get upset, he just sends me money. He doesn’t even know how to talk to me,” she’d pout. “We’re in a relationship, not a business deal. Does he think money solves everything? He’s so unromantic!” I used to tune her out. But now, I hung on every word, collecting details about him like a secret treasure. The more I learned, the more an agonizing envy clawed at my insides. If you don’t want a perfect boyfriend like that, give him to me! From my secret observations, I knew Asher was more than just rich. He was emotionally stable, always calm and patient in the face of Vivian’s tantrums. He was respectful, too. When Vivian said she wasn’t ready to sleep with him, he accepted it without question, telling her he would never pressure her. They were still at the hand-holding stage. And while he was a trust-fund kid, he wasn’t a degenerate. He didn’t have the typical vices—no clubbing, no fast cars, no gambling. His hobbies were shockingly wholesome: basketball, hiking, surfing, photography. His only bad habit was smoking. But the most important thing? The way he looked at me. There was no pity, no disgust. I remember it clearly. During the university sports meet, I was standing outside our class’s designated spectator area. The student advisor shoved a few bottles of water into my hands. “Our relay team just finished. Quick, take these to them.” I nodded numbly and walked toward the track. But when I held out the water, the runners actively avoided me, no one willing to take a bottle from my hand. A tidal wave of shame washed over me. Just as I was about to pull my arm back, a hand took one of the bottles. I looked up. It was Asher, his face dripping with sweat. He twisted the cap off and took a huge gulp. A guy next to him nudged him with his elbow. “Dude, why’d you take water from her?” Asher looked confused. “Isn’t she in our class?” “Yeah, but…” “So I’m drinking water for our class. What’s the problem?” The guy lowered his voice. “You’re not grossed out?” “Grossed out by what?” Asher asked, taking another drink. His expression was one of genuine bewilderment. He truly didn’t understand what the other guy was implying. In that moment, I knew. Asher Vaughn was a good person. 3 Asher was a rich guy with a good heart. The exact thing I desperately needed. But he had a girlfriend. And more importantly, we were from different universes. He would never choose me. So I buried my envy, letting it fester in the dark corners of my mind, making me feel even more like a creature of the shadows. I never thought I’d get my lucky break. But there he was, asking me to be his girlfriend. Of course, I said yes. A thousand times yes. But as soon as the word was out, a look of regret flashed across his face and he let go of my wrist. He was already second-guessing his own impulsive act. Vivian’s expression was pure, smug satisfaction. “Asher, that was a low blow. I’m not forgiving you for that.” She tossed her hair back. “In fact, we’re done. We’re breaking up.” A sad smile touched Asher’s lips. “You’ve been waiting to say that for a while, haven’t you?” He nodded slowly. “Fine. As you wish.” Vivian’s triumphant smirk was the last thing I saw before she turned and walked away. Asher just stood there, frozen, like a statue. After a long moment, he finally seemed to reboot and turned to leave. I grabbed his arm. He looked at me, his eyes vacant, like his soul had left his body. He still had the decency to apologize. “I’m sorry about that. I was just kidding back there. Don’t take it seriously.” But I held on tight. “You said it. You asked me to be your girlfriend. You can’t take it back.” “I… I’m sorry.” “Are you still waiting for her to come back?” I decided to play dirty. “She’s been dying for an excuse to break up with you. There’s a guy on the basketball team who’s been chasing her. She can’t stop smiling whenever his name comes up. She’s already moved on.” “The basketball player?” Asher’s voice was flat. “Is he… tall?” I nodded. “Yeah. Like, six-three.” Asher let out a bitter laugh. “I knew it. She hates that I’m not six feet tall.” “You’re not short!” I blurted out. I’d seen the official class health records. Without shoes, Asher was exactly 5’11”. Just one inch shy of that magic number. But for Vivian, that one inch was an obsession. It was understandable, I guess. At 5’8”, she was a giant among girls. She’d said it more than once: any guy under six feet was defective. It was her absolute minimum requirement. She only found out Asher’s true height after they started dating, and it became a constant source of complaint. “How could he be just one inch off?” she’d moan in the dorm. That one inch became an insurmountable flaw, a dealbreaker. When the basketball player started pursuing her, she was giddy. “That height,” she’d sighed dramatically. “It’s just… perfect.” The comparison made her despise Asher even more. She started picking fights constantly, hoping he’d get fed up and dump her first. But Asher, oblivious, just kept sending gifts and money. 4 Seeing Asher’s defeated, blank expression, I knew I had to act fast. “You’re really not short,” I insisted. I knew plenty of guys who were 5’10” or 5’11” who rounded up to six feet without a second thought. Asher was just too honest. I used my hand to gesture between us. “I’m 5’4”, which is pretty average, and I have to crane my neck to look at you.” I stood on my tiptoes for emphasis. “To me, you’re really tall!” My mind raced, scrambling for the right words. It seemed to work. The gloom on his face started to lift. “Thanks,” he said, a small smile appearing. “That actually helps.” A dimple appeared on his right cheek, surprisingly cute. “I’m sorry,” he began again. “Before, I just—” I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I knew this was my one and only shot. If I lost it now, I’d never get another. So, before he could finish, I let the tears fall. He panicked, stopping mid-sentence. “Why are you crying? Was I too harsh? I didn’t mean to be.” I wiped my eyes, my voice catching in my throat. “I know everyone looks down on me. I’m from a poor town in the mountains. My family couldn’t even afford tuition. My clothes are all hand-me-downs. They call me a wallflower and make fun of my accent. When I walk by, they hold their noses, but I swear I shower every day! I don’t smell!” The words tumbled out, a mix of performance and painful truth. “Everyone in the dorm laughs at me. They say I’ll die alone!” It started as an act to gain his sympathy, but the more I spoke, the more real the tears became. Each one was laced with genuine pain. “They really say that about you?” Asher’s anger seemed real. “That’s horrible!” Suddenly our roles were reversed. He was the one desperately trying to comfort me. “You’re adorable! You have a cute round face and big eyes, like a character from a cartoon. And your voice is lovely—if you just worked on a few pronunciations, you could be a professional broadcaster! Your clothes are just a little old, but they’re always clean! Those people are just bored and cruel. Don’t listen to them.” “As for finding someone…” he trailed off, unsure what to say. I let out a loud, theatrical sob. “See? Even you think I’ll never find anyone!” “No! Of course not!” he said, frantically dabbing at my tears with his sleeve. “Didn’t I just ask you? To be my girlfriend?” I sniffled. “But you said you didn’t mean it.” “I meant it!” he said, his eyes firm. “From this moment on, you’re my girlfriend.” My eyes went wide. “Really?” “Really.” He paused. “But… I’m not a very good boyfriend.” “Why would you say that?” “Vivian told me. I have a lot of flaws. She said she was just putting up with me.” I looked at him—handsome, rich, kind, and now, thanks to Vivian, completely lacking in confidence. “In my eyes,” I said, enunciating every word, “you are an amazing person.” “Me? Amazing?” he asked, his voice full of doubt. “Yes, Asher,” I confessed. “I’ve admired you for a very long time.” 5 That night, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, a gnawing guilt eating away at me. I had tricked him into this relationship. I had played on his kindness, used his pity. It wasn’t a pretty truth, but it was the truth. I had been manipulative. I had been calculating. But I needed this boyfriend. I needed his money. I was born into a poor, rural family where boys were prized and girls were burdens. From a young age, I knew my parents’ love was reserved for my younger brother. The family’s money was for him. For me, there was only work. If I slacked, I was beaten. I studied with a desperate, all-consuming focus. It was my only escape. After middle school, my parents wanted to send me to a factory to work. But I got the highest score in my entire school, earning me a full scholarship to the best high school in the city, plus a cash award. For the sake of that award money, they let me go. They took the money, of course. They gave me twenty dollars a month for living expenses. For three years of high school, I was never not hungry. I even fainted from hunger in class once. My homeroom teacher was a kind woman who often invited me to her house for meals. After graduation, I scored high enough to get into my dream university. But there was no money for tuition. My parents told me that if I went to college, they wouldn’t give me a single cent. I worked all summer, but it wasn’t enough. A week before school started, I swallowed my pride and went to my aunt. She was the only relative who had ever shown me kindness, but she was poor, too, with two kids of her own. She secretly gave me two hundred dollars she had saved. I scraped and borrowed, but I was still short. I went back to my kind homeroom teacher and forced myself to ask. She gave me a hundred dollars. The next day, I found out from a classmate that her own father was in the hospital with cancer, and the medical bills were so high she and her husband were fighting about divorce. That night, I cried until I had no tears left. I wrestled with my conscience, but in the end, I kept the money. I wanted to go to school too much. And in that moment, I understood who I was. I was a selfish, cold-hearted person who put my own interests first. 6 After paying for tuition, travel, and basic food, I had thirty dollars left to my name. I treated every penny like it was my last. On the first day of school, I found a black pen on the ground. It was still half full of ink. I was ecstatic. I had just saved twenty-five cents. I still use that pen. When it runs out, I only buy refills. The barrel is now faded and cracked. To save money on haircuts, I let my hair grow to my waist. I had to earn money not just for food, but for the next year’s tuition. Every moment I wasn’t in class, I was working. Sometimes I washed dishes at a restaurant across the street until two in the morning. When the dorms were locked, I’d crash on a cot in the employee break room and get up at dawn to head back for class. I was in a constant state of exhaustion. In class, I was always dizzy and drowsy, unable to focus. My grades started to slip. I was an English major, and coming from a small town, my speaking and listening skills were already a disaster. I was a so-called “mute English” speaker. I was already miles behind the students from big cities, and now with my lack of sleep, the gap was widening. At the end of my freshman year, I barely passed one of my finals. I’m sure the professor took pity on me. I knew if things continued this way, failing was inevitable. I had fought so hard to get here. I knew my only job was to study. But if I didn’t work, I wouldn’t eat. It was a vicious cycle. Many times, when my back ached so much I couldn’t stand up straight, I wished I could just pass out and never wake up. Being alive was just too hard. 7 The next morning, I saw the six-foot-three basketball player waiting outside the dorm. Vivian bounced up to him, linked her arm in his, and they walked away together. They were official. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least now she wouldn’t be coming back for Asher. After my last class, I saw Asher waiting outside the lecture hall. I ran up to him, a surprised smile on my face. “How did you know I was here?” Then I remembered. Vivian and I were in the same program. Of course he had our class schedule. He used to wait here for her. Just then, Vivian and her new boyfriend walked past. When she saw Asher take my backpack from me, she shot me a look of pure venom. It was bizarre. She had a new boyfriend. Did she expect Asher to remain her property, too? Asher took me to the nicest cafeteria on campus. He ordered three main dishes and a soup. It was the most satisfying meal I’d had in years. Asher barely ate, just watched me, his chin resting on his hand. “Aren’t you going to eat? Why are you staring at me?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious. “I haven’t seen someone enjoy their food this much in a long time,” he laughed. “It’s a pleasure to watch.” “You’d better eat before it’s all gone,” I warned him. He finally picked up his fork. “I wasn’t hungry, but watching you made me hungry. Don’t worry, if you finish it all, I’ll just order more.” I ate until I was full, a deep, comforting happiness settling in my stomach. “Thank you, Asher,” I said, sitting up straight. “For what?” “For the amazing meal.” He patted my head. “You’re too easy to please.” He pulled a brand-new smartphone out of his bag and handed it to me. “What’s this?” I hesitated. “It’s my backup phone. Never used it, it’s basically new.” He paused. “If you don’t want a hand-me-down, I can buy you a new one.” I shook my head vigorously. “No, this is perfect!” My current phone was an ancient burner phone, a hand-me-down from my uncle that was so beat up even the recycling kiosks wouldn’t take it. It could only make calls, and the battery lasted half a day. I never took it out in public. The shame was too much. A pale, elegant hand reached across the table. “Give me your old phone,” Asher said. I froze. As thick-skinned as I was, that phone was a source of deep shame. “I’ll transfer the SIM card for you.” His voice was so gentle it disarmed me. I slowly pulled out the battered device. He took it without a flicker of judgment in his eyes. His nimble fingers quickly popped out the SIM card and installed it in the new phone. He placed the new phone in my hand and pointed to the old one. “Do you still want this? I can put it back together for you.” I nodded. “Yes, please.” As he watched me clumsily navigate the new smartphone, he started patiently teaching me how to use it. I was probably the only university student who had never owned one. “You’re a fast learner,” he praised me. “I only have to show you once.” 8 That afternoon, Asher took me shopping. First, we went to a high-end salon. The stylist asked me how short I wanted my hair. “To my shoulders,” I said. My long hair had been a nuisance for years. It took forever to brush and used up so much shampoo. I’d kept it long simply because I couldn’t afford a haircut. An hour later, I walked out with a sleek, shoulder-length bob, my head feeling wonderfully light. Next, Asher took me to the mall. He bought me five complete outfits, three pairs of shoes, and a whole set of skincare and makeup. Staring at my reflection, I barely recognized myself. Asher stood beside me and gently poked my cheek. “What are you staring at?” “Is that… me?” “What, stunned by your own beauty?” he laughed. “I told you, you’re gorgeous. You just need to believe it.” Then we stood outside a designer handbag store. My heart started to pound. This was it. The ten-thousand-dollar bag Vivian had received had haunted me for months. That much money could pay for all four years of my tuition. If I was frugal, maybe even my master’s degree. My entire plan, my reason for being with Asher, hinged on one simple, sincere hope: that he would buy me a bag. It didn’t have to be the most expensive one. I would never even use it. I’d sell it, brand new, and get enough money to finally stop working those soul-crushing jobs. I could finally focus on my studies. With a mix of terror and excitement, I watched as Asher gestured to a wall of purses. His voice was music to my ears. “Pick one.” “Any one?” I asked, testing the waters. “Any one.” I could have screamed with joy. The cheapest bag was over two thousand dollars; the most expensive was in the five figures. I deliberated for a moment and chose one that was around five thousand. I felt like a monster, but the desire for a stable life won out. I pointed. Asher didn’t even look at the price tag. “We’ll take it.” In that moment, he was the most handsome man in the world.

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In a fiery car crash, I threw myself in front of Jacob Vance and saved his life. In doing so, I fell into a coma, becoming the untouchable saint in his memory, the ghost he could never let go of. But when I woke up, I found a fiancée by his side—a woman who shared my eyes, my smile. That’s when I learned the truth: I was living in a dark romance novel, a world designed for my suffering. Jacob was destined to waver between us, torturing me with his indecision. After a series of heart-wrenching and brutal events, I would finally die of cancer. Only then would Jacob have his grand epiphany, casting aside his fiancée to live a life of lonely regret. The Laws of this World whispered, “This is the greatest punishment for him.” And I thought, To hell with that. 1 It didn’t take long for the news of my awakening to reach Jacob. He was overseas at a critical summit, but the moment he heard, he dropped everything and chartered the first flight back. That evening, I saw him, haggard and travel-worn. He burst through the door to my private room, the usually stoic, reserved man stumbling as he collapsed by my bedside. He seized my hand, his grip desperate, as if I were a priceless treasure he’d almost lost forever. “Chloe… Chloe! You’re really awake. I thought they were lying to me…” Jacob pulled me into a fierce embrace, his hot tears searing my neck. “Why did you do it?” he choked out. “Why did you push me out of the way? If I had known you’d end up like this, lying here for years… I would rather it had been me who died.” The nurses in the room were already wiping their eyes, captivated by what they saw as a beautiful, tragic love story. If I hadn’t dreamt of the brutal future awaiting me, a premonition of all the pain to come, I might have been moved, too. He held me for a long moment. When I remained still and silent, he pulled back slightly, his voice soft with concern. “Chloe, why aren’t you saying anything?” I moistened my lips, gesturing to my throat, which felt like sandpaper. He was on his feet in an instant, pouring a glass of lukewarm water and helping me take small, careful sips. Once the soothing water eased the rasp in my throat, I spoke, my voice a fragile whisper. “I saved you?” He froze, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “You did. You shoved me so hard… before I even knew what was happening, the car hit you. It sent you flying.” Jacob clutched his head, a wave of pain washing over his face as he relived the memory. “Chloe, don’t you ever do something so foolish again. You’re the most important person in my life. If anything had happened to you… I would have lost my mind.” I said nothing. Because in my memory, that wasn’t how I ended up in a coma. Not at all. But as he spoke, his expression was utterly sincere, and the faces of his assistant and the nurses showed no hint of surprise. It confirmed my suspicion: this novel-world had a self-correcting mechanism, capable of rewriting reality to fit its plot. But… My fingers traced the line of his jaw, up to his perfect, sculpted features. There, just at the edge of his eyelid, was a tiny, faint brown scar. According to the script, my selfless sacrifice should have left him completely unharmed. Yet, here was proof—a flaw in the narrative. The car crash had left its mark on him, however small. It meant the plot wasn’t entirely absolute. It could be bent. I suppressed the storm of emotions rising within me, forcing myself into the role I was meant to play. “Jacob,” I whispered, my eyes welling with tears. “I’ve missed you so much…” I threw my arms around him and began to sob, just as the girl in the story would have. 2 After I woke up, no matter how demanding his schedule, Jacob made time to visit me at the hospital every single day. He always brought me flowers. Not the extravagant, air-freighted bouquets of a billionaire, but simple arrangements he’d chosen himself from a small florist down the street. Today, he brought a spray of fragrant lilies, their white petals nestled against dark green eucalyptus leaves. A gentle breeze drifted through the open window, filling the room with a sense of serene beauty. As he gently combed my hair, he smiled. “Don’t you like them, Chloe? I remember you made a list once, full of all the places you dreamed of seeing.” He held me, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “You’re still recovering, so for now, I can only bring the world to you in pieces. But get better soon, my love. After we’re married, I’ll take you to every single one of those places. I promise.” Just as the words left his lips, his phone buzzed, a sharp, intrusive sound. Jacob pulled it from his pocket, turning away slightly as he glanced at the screen. His posture stiffened. “Chloe, it’s a work call. I’ll just be a moment.” He didn’t even wait for my reply, stepping over to the window to answer. I felt a cold, bitter laugh rise in my throat. If I didn’t know that was Isabelle Croft on the other end, calling to discuss the final details of their engagement party, his tender words might have actually melted my heart. In the days that followed, I threw myself into physical therapy. Years in a coma had left my body withered and weak; the road to recovery was more arduous than I could have imagined. There were moments when the pain was so intense I wanted to scream, to give up, but the memory of the nightmares that plagued my unconsciousness was a relentless whip, driving me forward. I had to be strong. I had to be ready before the next major plot point unfolded. It was the only way to seize control, to prevent that dream from becoming my reality. My efforts paid off. One week before Jacob’s engagement party, I was discharged from the hospital and moved into the Vance estate. He settled me into a sun-drenched room on the second floor. After the staff had unpacked my things, I asked to explore the house. They must have been given instructions by Jacob, because no one stopped me. The estate was immense. It took me three full days to map out every corner, every hallway, every hidden door. And through it all, Jacob and I were the picture of a loving couple, just like we used to be, before the crash, before the lies. 3 But as the day of the engagement party drew closer, a palpable tension began to radiate from Jacob. He was growing anxious. With me living under his roof, he needed a reason, a solid excuse, to get me out of the house on the day of the party. In the original story, I was still in the hospital, conveniently out of sight. But now, here I was, a living, breathing complication nestled in his arms. I reached up, gently smoothing the worry lines forming between his brows. “What’s wrong? You look so stressed, even at home.” He flinched, his eyes clouded with conflict. After a moment of hesitation, he began, “Chloe, in a few days…” I cut him off, playing the part of the understanding lover. “There’s a traveling art exhibition opening downtown in a few days,” I said, my voice bright. “I’d love to see it. Can I go?” I leaned into him, my tone playful and coaxing. The relief that washed over his face was immediate. “Of course,” he said, his smile returning. “I’ll have my assistant get you tickets. I have a major meeting that day, so I’ll have Davies drive you.” I smiled and nodded. The engagement party was on a Friday night. Jacob saw me off early that morning, his affection a mask for his relief. Davies, his ever-polite assistant, drove me to the gallery. His conversation was pleasant, but he kept dropping hints about all the other wonderful places to visit nearby—boutiques, cafes, parks. Jacob’s orders were clear: keep me occupied for as long as possible. I spent the morning wandering through the exhibition, then had a late lunch at a nearby bistro. By early evening, I found a high-end spa. “Mr. Davies,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, but would you mind if I just popped in here for a bit? A friend gave me a gift card, and I haven’t had a proper spa day since… well, since before. It seems like the perfect chance.” His smile widened, all too happy to oblige. “Of course, Ms. Sutton. Take all the time you need.” But I wasn’t there for a massage. I was there for the back exit. It was the perfect way to slip away while keeping Davies pinned in place. Once outside, I hailed a cab and gave the driver the one address that had been burning in my mind. The Vance estate. 4 Standing outside the towering gates of the Vance estate, I took a deep, steadying breath. As dusk settled, the mansion began to glow, light spilling from every window, turning the colossal building into a glittering jewel against the darkening sky. I slipped away from the main entrance, hiding in the shadows of a side path. From my vantage point, I watched as a parade of luxury cars delivered the city’s elite—politicians, tycoons, celebrities—all arriving for the grand celebration. In my nightmare, the dream that was my future, this was the day I finally completed my physical therapy. Filled with joy and hope, I had returned to the Vance estate, only to walk into the scene of my beloved’s engagement party with another woman. The shock had shattered me. I had stared at Jacob’s stunned face, turned without a word, and walked away, setting in motion the tragic story of our love. This world’s plot had a way of healing itself. Even if I avoided Isabelle tonight, the story would conspire to reveal her to me eventually. But I had learned something crucial: the plot’s self-correction took time. And in that window of time, I had to do something drastic to ensure I never walked that tragic path again. The Vances were a pillar of society; I had no invitation. Walking through the front door was impossible. In the story, the original me had forced her way in, a scene of humiliating, desperate chaos. I wouldn’t make the same mistake. During my three days exploring the estate, I’d found it: a small, seldom-used service gate, overgrown with ivy. I slipped the key I’d copied into the lock. It turned with a quiet click. I was in. The backyard had been transformed. To impress the Croft family, Jacob had spared no expense. Crates of exotic ingredients flown in from overseas, dozens of renowned chefs, and tables groaning under the weight of a lavish feast. Society’s finest mingled, champagne in hand, their polite smiles hiding shrewd, calculating eyes. I was dressed in a simple, pearl-white silk dress. I looked elegant enough to blend in, and in the bustling crowd, no one noticed the uninvited guest in their midst. My gaze swept across the garden, past the laughing guests, and up towards the mansion. There, on the second-floor balcony, stood a solitary figure. She wore a stunning designer gown, her long hair elegantly pinned with a pearl clip. Even from this distance, I couldn’t see her face clearly, but I knew. I knew with absolute certainty that she was the one I was looking for. Isabelle Croft. 5 I navigated the crowds, slipping inside the mansion and making my way to the second-floor balcony. Isabelle stood with her back to me, swirling a glass of champagne, lost in thought. She turned at the sound of my footsteps. When her eyes landed on my face—a face so strikingly similar to her own—she gasped. “You… it’s you? You’re Chloe Sutton? The one who saved Jacob?” I gave a slight nod. A bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips. “So it’s true. I wondered why he would ever agree to an arranged marriage with my family. They were all right…” She stepped closer, her eyes scanning my features, searching for the resemblance. “We really do… look alike.” Her family had built their empire on the East Coast, only expanding to Veridia City two years ago. To gain a foothold in a new city’s competitive business world, an alliance with a family like the Vances was the fastest way. Her father had proposed the marriage. “Everyone told my father not to bother,” she continued, her voice laced with irony. “Veridia has no shortage of eligible heiresses. If Jacob Vance wanted a wife, he could have had his pick from here to Paris. So why was he still single?” Isabelle took a sip of her champagne. “My father had given up hope. But then, Jacob saw my picture. And he agreed.” Her eyes, shadowed with a strange mix of clarity and disillusionment, met mine. “I thought it was love at first sight. I never imagined it was because, as everyone whispered, I looked so much like you.” I remained silent. This wasn’t the Isabelle I knew from the story. The novel painted her as a one-dimensional, brainless antagonist, a mere tool to create conflict between Jacob and me. But the woman standing before me was self-aware, her pain palpable. She was no mere plot device. Just as I was about to speak, reality slapped me in the face. Isabelle’s eyes flickered to something over my shoulder. Suddenly, her body lurched forward. The champagne glass in her hand tilted precariously, the golden liquid about to spill all over her expensive gown. I recognized the scene instantly. It was a moment from later in the story, at another party. Isabelle would accuse me of deliberately spilling wine on her. Jacob, refusing to believe my denials, would force me to kneel on broken glass and apologize to her, all to appease the Croft family. The author had tried to frame it as a twisted act of protection—by humiliating me himself, he was preventing the Crofts from seeking further revenge. But pain was pain. Whether it came from Jacob or the Crofts, it made no difference. And it all stemmed from one source: his own weakness. His inability to be alone while I was in a coma, his selfish need for a substitute. How could the author ever label a man like that devoted? In that split second, I saw her intent. I moved first. My hand shot out, clamping down on the rim of the glass. I used so much force that the fragile stem should have snapped, but it held firm. The champagne sloshed, but not a single drop touched my skin. Isabelle stared at me, her eyes wide with shock. Her heel wobbled, and she started to fall. Before she could hit the ground in a dramatic heap, my other hand snaked out, grabbing her arm and wrenching her upright. I clapped a hand over her mouth, dragging her from the brightly lit balcony into the deep shadows of an alcove. A moment later, Jacob and a group of guests passed by, their laughter echoing in the hall. They heard nothing. They saw nothing. 6 Once they were gone, I released her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, my voice a low hiss. Isabelle seemed to snap out of a trance, her eyes slowly regaining focus. She looked at me, her expression bewildered. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s like, ever since I met Jacob, my body just does these… strange things on its own.” “Sometimes I’m clinging to him, acting like a spoiled child. Other times I’m cruel, sneering at other women who have a crush on him,” she said, her gaze intense. “I was never like this back home. Never.” But until this moment, no one had ever called her out on it. Her own mind had simply accepted these actions as normal, never questioning the bizarre impulses. “Ms. Sutton,” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Do you believe me?” I studied her face, searching for any sign of deception. I found none. “Isabelle,” I asked softly, “are you in love with Jacob?” She hesitated, her hand pressing against her chest as if to feel her own heartbeat. The strange compulsions might not be hers, but the affection for Jacob… that was real. She gave a slow, deliberate nod. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. If her love was just another part of the script, I would have had no way to convince her to help me. I chose my words carefully. “I’m not here by choice. Jacob is keeping me here, against my will. I don’t love him.” Isabelle looked skeptical. “But the stories… everyone says you were inseparable. That you even took a bullet for him, metaphorically speaking.” “There was a car crash, yes,” I countered, “but it wasn’t to save him. He’s the one spinning that story, making sure everyone believes I’m here because I want to be.” I poured every ounce of sincerity I could muster into my expression, praying she would believe me. And she did. Whether it was my performance or her own innate decency, she finally accepted my words. After a long pause, she asked quietly, “What do you want me to do?” A spark of hope ignited within me. I grabbed her hand. “Your brother,” I said urgently. “I hear he’s in the military, Special Forces?” She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Please,” I pressed, “can you introduce me to him? Jacob has connections everywhere. If I’m going to escape him, I need help from someone he can’t control, someone he fears.” Isabelle’s expression, once sympathetic, suddenly turned cynical. “So that’s it. You’re just using me to get to my brother.” I knew what she was thinking. She saw me as just another woman trying to climb the social ladder by latching onto her powerful brother. I couldn’t let her walk away. As she turned to leave, I stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Believe me or not, I’m telling you the truth.” My voice was desperate, earnest. “Even if you don’t trust me, trust your brother’s judgment. Just make the introduction. He’ll be able to see for himself whether I’m a social climber or someone who genuinely needs his help.” She stared at me for a long, tense moment, her eyes searching mine. Finally, she relented. “Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll set up a meeting. But after that, you’re on your own.” She was about to leave, but paused at the door. She turned back, a thoughtful look on her face. “Chloe Sutton… I did some research on you. Don’t you have a sister? Where is she now?” 7 After striking the deal with Isabelle, I slipped out through the same side gate I’d used to enter, melting back into the night. I took a cab back to the spa, reappearing just as a real customer would, feigning relaxation and offering my apologies to a waiting Davies. He waved it off, his relief palpable, and drove me back to the Vance estate. When we arrived, the mansion was pristine. The staff had worked with chilling efficiency; there wasn’t a single trace of the lavish party that had just ended. Jacob was waiting for me. He pulled me into his arms, his voice a soft murmur against my hair. “Chloe, you’re finally back. I missed you like crazy.” He tilted my head up to kiss me. I didn’t resist, letting him take what he wanted. After a moment, he pulled away, his voice thick with desire. “I got ahead of myself,” he rasped. “I almost forgot you’re still recovering.” He took a deep breath, stroking my hair. “Go on up to bed. I need a cold shower.” I nodded obediently and left him standing there. Upstairs, I collapsed onto the plush bed, my body aching with a day’s worth of tension and exhaustion. Sleep claimed me almost instantly. 8 That night, for the first time in years, I dreamed of my sister, Lily. In the grand, tragic novel of my life, Lily was barely a footnote, a single line in my backstory. But to me, she was everything. Our father was a pilot. He died in a crash when we were young, a fiery end to a life lived in the sky. Our mother, a gentle soul, did something that seemed both insane and incredibly brave: she followed him, leaving my sister and me orphaned. We were sent to live with our grandmother in the countryside. But she was a woman broken by grief, having lost her husband and then her daughter. In truth, we took care of her more than she ever took care of us. Those years of shared hardship forged an unbreakable bond between Lily and me. We had the same dreams. In college, we were dirt poor, living from one meager paycheck to the next. We worked and studied constantly, but in our rare moments of peace, we’d huddle together, watching documentaries. Our favorite was a series about the ancient Silk Road. The names of those faraway places—the Gobi Desert, the whispering poplar forests—they were like magic spells to us. We made a pact: one day, when we had money, we would see them all. I can still see her so clearly, scribbling on a notepad while gnawing on a piece of stale bread. She’d look up at me, a mischievous grin on her face, revealing a single, endearing crooked tooth. “Chloe,” she’d say, “you’re so frail. When we’re out there in the wild, don’t you dare ask me to carry you when you get tired.” I was about to retort, to say something back to her, when the dream dissolved into a blinding white light, and I was awake. Sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, warming the hardwood floors. I stood barefoot in the center of the room, running a hand through my tangled hair in frustration. If Isabelle hadn’t mentioned her, I might have never realized. How long had it been since I’d even thought about Lily? The most important person in my entire world. 9 Isabelle was true to her word. Less than a week after she agreed to help, I received a text from her with a time and place. At this early stage of the story, Jacob hadn’t yet become the possessive jailer he would later be. So, on a day he was occupied at the office, I arranged to meet her brother, Leo Croft, at a café near the city’s landmark Twin Towers. The meeting was set for noon. I arrived half an hour early. I slipped into the restroom to touch up my makeup, deliberately making myself look paler, more fragile. I stared at my reflection: a woman in a cream-colored cashmere sweater and a long, flowing chiffon skirt. I looked delicate, ethereal, breakable. I didn’t know if this performance would earn Leo’s sympathy, but I was playing the long game. In the future I had dreamed of, the one where Jacob held me captive, it was a righteous, justice-driven Leo who noticed my plight and tried to rescue me. His attempt had failed, and Jacob had dragged me back. But he was the only person I knew of, the only character in this twisted story, with the power to help me break free. 10 When I returned to my table, a man was already sitting there. He was tall and lean, with sun-kissed skin that contrasted sharply with his fierce, handsome features. He had the unsettling stillness of a predator, the kind of man who moved like the wind. I walked over and sat down opposite him. “You must be Leo Croft.” He glanced up, his expression unreadable, and gave a curt nod for me to speak. I ordered two coffees—an iced Americano for him, a cappuccino for me. When they arrived, he took a sip of his, and we sat in a heavy silence. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. My eyes fell on his untouched coffee, his stoic face, and then on the corner of a pamphlet sticking out of his jacket pocket. It was for a nature photography exhibition, right next door in the Twin Towers. I decided to take a risk. I invited him to see the exhibit with me. His expression remained cool, but I saw the tension in his brow ease ever so slightly. We walked into the gallery side-by-side, greeted by a stunning photograph of a lioness nursing her cubs. “The Ethiopian savanna, during the dry season,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Most of the herd animals migrate toward water, and the predators follow. This was a lioness who fell behind, her cubs starving.” I listened without comment. He didn’t seem to mind, leading me to the second floor. In the center of the room hung the exhibition’s masterpiece: a breathtaking shot of a whale breaching the surface of the ocean. It was taken in the Arctic Circle, under the rare and magical glow of the aurora borealis. The sky was a canvas of surreal, vibrant colors, transforming the already majestic scene into something otherworldly. A giant rising from the deep to roar its existence at the heavens. “This is—” “Taken three years ago, off the coast of Iceland,” I finished for him, my voice quiet. He turned to look at me, surprised. “The photographer was on a fishing trawler, hoping for a good catch of cod. He stumbled upon this by accident.” I moved to a nearby display, a series of photos documenting the cod fishing industry. I couldn’t help but smile. “Hard to believe the UK and Iceland almost went to war over these things, isn’t it?” My finger traced the glass case. Leo looked at me, confused. “What?” “You don’t know? The Cod Wars,” I explained, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. He didn’t seem annoyed; if anything, he looked intrigued. I pressed on. “After World War II, Iceland repeatedly expanded its territorial waters to protect its fishing industry. Britain, of course, wasn’t happy and sent the Royal Navy to escort their trawlers. But Iceland was clever. Because of a loophole in the NATO agreement, Britain couldn’t engage militarily, but Iceland’s coast guard was free to fire in ‘self-defense.’ They harassed the British fleets until Britain finally gave up the territory. A classic David and Goliath story.” I finished with a small smile, then looked at him, my heart sinking. His face was as impassive as ever. I was sure I had failed, that my attempt to connect with him had been a disaster. Just as I was about to give up, a slow smile spread across Leo’s face. “Ms. Sutton,” he said, his eyes glinting with a newfound respect. “You are not at all what I expected.”

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The day I was brought back to the Sterling family, Holly was in the living room playing the grand piano. Seeing me in the doorway, her hands froze. A discordant note hung in the air as tears welled in her eyes. “Mom? Dad?” she whispered, voice trembling. “Are you… throwing me away?” Helen rushed to hug her. “Darling, don’t be silly. We never would.” Richard patted her back. “You’ll always be our daughter.” Ethan shot me a glass-cutting glare. “Holly’s heart has been weak. Don’t upset her.” I stood frozen in the entrance, clutching my suitcase, watching their perfect family scene. Honestly, without that promise, I’d never have come. 1 My biological parents and my biological brother were coddling the cuckoo who’d been in my nest for eighteen years, while I, the actual daughter, was left standing on the doorstep like a pizza delivery girl. “Excuse me,” I said, rapping my knuckles against the ornate doorframe. My voice cut through their drama. “Should I come in? Or do you need me to wait outside until the group hug is over?” Helen finally seemed to remember I existed. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. “Nina, darling, come in, come in. Don’t just stand there.” Nina. She got my name wrong. It’s Nora. I suppose after eighteen years of cooing “Holly,” old habits die hard. “It’s Nora,” I corrected calmly, dragging my suitcase across the polished marble floor. The sound echoed in the cavernous hall. Holly lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder, her face a perfect portrait of tear-stained misery. She was beautiful, I had to admit, in a delicate, fragile way. “I’m so sorry, sister,” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault. I’m the one who took your place…” “Don’t worry about it,” I said, finding an empty corner to stash my bag. “You’ve had it for eighteen years. A few more minutes won’t make a difference.” The air in the room went still. Holly’s sobs caught in her throat. She clearly hadn’t expected such bluntness from the poor, long-lost girl. Ethan’s brow furrowed. “Nora, what kind of way is that to talk?” I looked at my so-called brother. Twenty-five years old, CEO of Sterling Industries, known in the business world for his ruthless tactics. Right now, though, he looked less like a corporate shark and more like a mother hen protecting her favorite chick. “I’m just telling the truth.” I sank into a plush velvet sofa. It was softer than the bed I slept on at my foster parents’ house. “She did occupy my place for eighteen years. That’s a fact. Or were you hoping I’d say, ‘Oh, it’s okay, Holly, please, keep it’?” “You—!” Ethan started to rise, but Richard stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Nora’s just returned,” he said, clearing his throat. “This is an adjustment for everyone. Holly, why don’t you go up to your room and rest? Don’t forget to take your medication tonight.” Holly bit her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She gave me one last, wounded look before scurrying up the grand staircase. Her retreating form was the very picture of frail vulnerability. But I saw it. Just for a second, as she turned away, the corner of her mouth curved into a triumphant smirk. Not bad acting. Too bad she was dealing with me. 2 Dinner was a lavish spread of ten dishes and a soup, but everything was bland. Steamed fish, boiled vegetables, clear broth. It was all, I was told, for the sake of Holly’s weak heart. I took a bite of the fish. It tasted like cotton. “Nora,” Helen began, her voice hesitant and careful. “Over there… was life hard for you?” “Over there” was her delicate term for my foster home. I set down my fork. “You already ran a background check, didn’t you?” They must have, after the DNA results came back. They wouldn’t have shown up on my doorstep so quickly otherwise. “We just wanted to hear it from you,” Richard said softly, his voice full of practiced paternal concern. I offered a thin smile. “My foster father was a gambling addict. My foster mother lived for poker nights. I started working at ten to feed myself, and at fifteen, I started paying for their son’s education. But you probably know the specifics better than I do.” Helen’s eyes reddened. “Oh, Nora, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault…” “We’re trying to eat,” Ethan cut in sharply, his tone clipped. “Can we not ruin everyone’s appetite with these stories?” I leveled my gaze at him. “Does my past embarrass you, brother?” “That’s not what I meant.” “Then what did you mean?” “Ah!” Suddenly, Holly clutched her chest, her face turning pale. “My… my heart… it hurts.” Instantly, the family was in motion, a whirlwind of concern orbiting her. “Your pills! Quick!” Helen cried. “Should we go to the hospital?” Richard asked, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll call the family doctor right now!” Ethan declared, leaping from his chair. I just kept eating, my fork never pausing. Her performance was slipping. A real cardiac episode doesn’t leave you with enough breath to shout, nor does it grant you the impeccable timing to strike right as an argument is heating up. The family doctor arrived with impressive speed, confirmed it was just stress-induced palpitations, and prescribed rest. Helen escorted Holly upstairs, with Richard and Ethan trailing behind like a royal guard. The vast dining room fell silent, leaving me alone at the long, polished table. A maid moved to clear the plates. “I’m not finished,” I said, waving her away. I was full, of course, but I was going to sit there and finish my first meal in my real family’s home. Even if I had to do it alone. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from my foster mother. Where’s the money, you useless girl? This month’s payment is late. I blocked the number without a second thought. From this day forward, I wasn’t giving a dime to anyone. 3 My room was on the third floor, at the very end of the hall. It was a converted storage closet. When I pushed the door open, I froze. It was tiny, less than two hundred square feet, barely big enough for a single bed, a cheap wardrobe, and a small desk. That was it. The paint was peeling in places, and the single window overlooked the backyard’s garbage disposal area, a faint, sour smell wafting in on the evening breeze. On my way up, I had passed Holly’s room. The door was ajar, and I’d caught a glimpse of a pink canopy bed, a walk-in closet that took up an entire wall, and a private balcony overflowing with flowers. The contrast was staggering. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, stood in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral. “Miss, Mrs. Sterling said to apologize for the accommodations. They will arrange a better room for you in a few days.” I managed a smile. “No need to change it. This is fine. It’s quiet.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she just gave a tight nod and left, closing the door softly behind her. I opened my suitcase. It held a few worn-out clothes, but mostly books and notebooks. On top of the stack was my acceptance letter and final report card—top ten in the state. A score I had bled for. My foster parents never gave me a cent for tutoring. I taught myself everything. I woke up at 4 a.m. to study and didn’t sleep until well after midnight, spending my weekends waiting tables at a diner to earn enough to live. All that, just to get into Aurelia University, the best in the country. Meanwhile, I’d heard the Sterlings had spent a fortune on tutors for Holly, and she’d only managed to get into a second-rate community college. The irony was bitter. Around ten, I went downstairs for a glass of water and heard voices from the study. “…that Nora child is so cold,” Helen was saying, her voice laced with worry. “I’m worried she and Holly won’t get along.” “Holly’s heart can’t take any stress,” Richard proposed. “Perhaps… Nora could stay in the dorms at the university? It might be for the best.” “I think that’s a good idea,” Ethan immediately agreed. “Holly has been on edge lately. Having Nora in the house could easily trigger her condition.” I stood outside the door, listening to my biological family plot to kick me out. The reason? I might upset the fragile heart of the fake princess. What a joke. I pushed the door open. “No need to debate it. I’ll move out myself.” Three heads snapped in my direction, their expressions a mixture of shock and guilt. “Nora, you misunderstood!” Helen said, flustered. “That’s not what we meant!” “I didn’t misunderstand,” I cut her off. “You’re worried I’ll stress Holly out, so you want me to live on campus. It’s a logical solution. I agree.” Richard frowned. “Nora, are you angry with us?” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “No. I just think it’s a good proposal. An outsider like me shouldn’t disturb the peace of your perfect family of four.” “What do you mean, an outsider?” Helen cried, aghast. “You’re my daughter! My own flesh and blood!” “Oh, right,” I nodded. “Then why didn’t I hear you suggest, ‘Let’s have Holly move to a dorm so she doesn’t upset Nora’?” Helen was speechless. Ethan’s patience finally snapped. “Nora, can’t you be a little more considerate? Holly’s health is poor. Can’t you just cut her some slack for once?” I looked straight at him. “Ethan, my foster father was a gambling addict. One time, after a huge loss, he held a knife to my throat and tried to force me to take out a loan from a loan shark. I was sick that day, burning up with a fever of 103. Guess who cut me some slack then?” Ethan flinched as if I’d struck him. “No one,” I continued, my voice like ice. “So I learned a valuable lesson. No one in this world owes you anything. Holly’s health is her problem, not mine.” “How can you be so heartless?” Ethan slammed his hand on the polished mahogany desk. “Heartless?” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound that echoed in the quiet room. “Your precious ‘sister’ stole my life for eighteen years, and I’m heartless for stating a simple fact? What about you? Your real daughter comes home, and the first thing you do is figure out how to get rid of her. What does that make you?” The study was utterly silent. I turned to leave. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone by tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to be an eyesore.” 4 The next morning, I was packing my few belongings when Holly appeared at my door, dressed in a pink silk pajama set. She looked the picture of innocence. “Sister, are you leaving?” “What’s it to you?” I said, not looking up from folding a t-shirt. She stepped inside, her voice a soft, conspiratorial whisper. “You don’t have to pretend to be so strong, you know. It must hurt so much, being rejected by your own parents.” I stopped packing and turned to face her. “I heard them last night,” she went on, a hint of mock sympathy lacing her voice. “Talking about you moving out. You must have been heartbroken. It’s okay, you can cry if you want to. I won’t tell.” “You were eavesdropping.” It wasn’t a question. She smiled sweetly. “I was just passing by. Do you know why they don’t love you, sister?” I played along, intrigued by her audacity. “Why?” “Because I’ve been in this family for eighteen years! My pictures are on every wall, my trophies fill the cabinets. They remember every single one of my birthdays. And you,” she paused for dramatic effect, “you are a blank slate. A stranger.” “And?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “There’s no room for you here. Even if you’re the real one, you’re still just… extra.” I laughed. So, the mask was already coming off. “Holly,” I whispered back, mirroring her tone, “do you know what DNA is?” She blinked, confused. “It’s proof of blood. It doesn’t matter how many years you lived here, or how many of your pictures are on the wall. You will always be the fake. And me,” I pointed a thumb at my chest, “I don’t have to do a single thing to be the real one.” The color drained from her face. “Also,” I said, grabbing my suitcase, “who told you I was moving out? I’m just going to my university to pick something up. This is my house. Why would I leave?” I dragged my suitcase downstairs and ran right into Ethan, who was on his way out for the day. He saw my bag and frowned. “Where are you going?” “Campus.” “I’ll drive you.” “Not necessary.” “I said, I’ll drive you,” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. I shrugged. Fine. The car ride was tense and silent. Just as we were nearing the university, he finally spoke. “About last night… don’t take it to heart.” “Okay.” “Mom and Dad don’t dislike you. It’s just… Holly’s condition really is delicate. They worry.” “Okay.” “Can you stop just saying ‘okay’?” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. I turned to him, my expression unreadable. “What would you like me to say? ‘Oh, it’s fine, Ethan, I completely understand’? Or maybe, ‘I’ll be sure to take extra special care of poor, fragile Holly’?” He rubbed his temples, a gesture of pure exasperation. “Can’t you just be normal?” “What’s normal?” I shot back. “Faking a heart attack every time you don’t get your way? Crying at the drop of a hat? Is that your definition of normal?” “Holly doesn’t fake it!” he insisted, his jaw tight. I could have rolled my eyes, but I kept them fixed on him. “Ethan, are you genuinely stupid, or just pretending to be? Do you really think someone having a cardiac episode can time it perfectly to interrupt an argument and still manage to look tragically beautiful while doing it?” His hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “You don’t know the first thing about Holly.” “You’re right, I don’t,” I said, opening the car door. “But I do know what a real heart condition looks like. My foster mother’s sister had one. When she had an attack, her face turned blue and she couldn’t even speak, let alone weep dramatically.” I slammed the door shut, leaving him sitting there, stewing in the driver’s seat. I saw in the reflection that he didn’t drive away for a long, long time. 5 My trip to campus was to officially register for my classes. The acceptance letter from Aurelia University was my proudest possession. After finishing the paperwork, I stopped by the bank. My account held just over twenty thousand dollars, a mix of savings from years of part-time jobs and royalties from my writing. That was my secret. I was an online author, writing under the pen name “Luna Thirteen.” My genre was gritty, realistic fiction—tearjerkers. My readers often commented on how painfully real my stories felt. They had no idea they were reading chapters of my own life. As I was about to leave, the bank manager hurried over. “Miss Sterling? A new account was just opened for you. It’s a supplementary card from Mr. Richard Sterling.” He handed me a sleek, black credit card. I glanced at the credit limit. It had seven figures. It must be nice to be rich. I pocketed the card but had no intention of using it. When I got back to the Sterling mansion, it was lunchtime. At the dining table, Holly was seated next to Helen, the two of them chatting like best friends. When she saw me, Holly’s face lit up with a saccharine smile. “Sister, you’re back! Come, sit and eat with us.” I took a seat and noticed my place was set at the far end of the table, isolating me from the family cluster. I also noticed that their plates were fine bone china, while mine was plain ceramic. The little details always tell the real story. “Nora,” Helen said suddenly, “Holly’s birthday is next week. We’re planning a large party for her. We’d love for you to be there.” “It’s my birthday next week, too,” I reminded her. The air grew thick with a sudden, awkward silence. Of course. Holly and I were born on the same day, in the same hospital. That’s how the switch happened in the first place. Helen recovered quickly. “Oh! Well… then we’ll celebrate together!” “That’s not necessary,” Holly said, her voice dripping with false magnanimity. “Sister just got back; she’s probably not used to big, formal events. We should have a party just for me. For Sister’s birthday, we can have a quiet celebration, just the family.” Translation: a grand, public birthday party is for me, Holly Sterling, the beloved princess. You, Nora, don’t deserve the spotlight. Richard nodded in agreement. “Holly has a point. Nora has just returned; it’s probably best to keep things low-key for her.” Ethan chimed in. “Besides, Nora doesn’t seem like the type who enjoys that kind of scene.” I put down my fork. “You all are truly something else.” “What’s that, dear?” Helen asked, confused. “Holly and I have the same birthday. You’re going to throw her a lavish party, invite the city’s elite, and publicly declare her the cherished daughter of the Sterling family. And me? I get a ‘quiet celebration at home’.” I stood up, my voice calm but sharp. “You’re sending a message to everyone that the Sterling family only acknowledges one daughter, and that even though I’m the real one, I’m not fit for public display.” “You’re overthinking it, Nora. That’s not what we meant,” Richard began to explain. “That is exactly what you meant,” I interrupted. “But don’t worry. I wouldn’t be caught dead at your stupid party anyway.” I turned and walked upstairs, leaving them in stunned silence. Behind me, I heard the familiar sound of Holly’s theatrical sobs beginning. “It’s all my fault… I won’t have a party… we can celebrate for Sister instead…” followed by a chorus of comforting murmurs. The same old play, the same old actors. 6 That night, Helen knocked on my door. “Nora, may I come in?” I was reading, and didn’t look up. “It’s open.” She entered, carrying a bowl of soup. “I had the kitchen make this for you. Please, have some.” I didn’t take it. “I’m not hungry.” She placed the bowl on my desk and sat on the edge of my bed. “Nora, I know you’re upset with us.” “I’m not.” “Please, just listen to me,” she sighed. “Holly’s poor health is real. She was born with a congenital heart defect. The doctors told us she might not live past twenty.” I finally looked up at her. “That’s why we’ve always… spoiled her. We just wanted her to be happy for the time she has left.” Helen’s eyes were red. “Can’t you understand, Nora?” I looked at her, my gaze unwavering. “So?” “So… could you please just try to be a little more lenient with her?” I laughed, a humorless sound. “Mom, let me ask you a question.” “What is it?” “If I had been born with a congenital heart defect, would you be asking Holly to be lenient with me?” Helen stared at me, dumbfounded. “You wouldn’t,” I answered for her. “Because in your heart, Holly is the daughter you raised for eighteen years. I’m just a stranger who shares your blood.” “That’s not true!” I closed my book. “You should go, Mom. I’m tired.” She looked like she wanted to argue, but in the end, she just picked up the untouched soup and left without another word. Later that night, I heard the sound of a piano from the room next door. It was Holly, practicing. She was playing “Für Elise.” Badly. The next morning at breakfast, Holly looked exhausted. “I was up so late practicing the piano last night, I barely slept a wink.” Helen looked at her with concern. “Don’t push yourself so hard, darling. Your health comes first.” Ethan placed a piece of bacon on her plate. “Eat up. You need your strength.” I sipped my juice, saying nothing. “Sister,” Holly said suddenly, turning to me. “You play the piano too, right?” She knew I had heard her last night. This was a direct challenge. “A little,” I said flatly. “Oh, wonderful!” she clapped her hands together with glee. “Could you teach me? There are a few parts I just can’t get right.” Helen immediately latched on. “Nora, if you have time, you should help your sister.” I put down my glass. “I don’t have time.” The mood at the table soured. Ethan frowned. “What would it hurt to help her for a few minutes?” “It would waste my time,” I said, standing up. “Her basic technique is all wrong. I have no interest in teaching someone from scratch.” “How would you know my technique is wrong?” Holly retorted, offended. I gave her a deadpan look. “In the third bar of ‘Für Elise,’ your fingering is incorrect. In the seventh bar, your rhythm is off. In the eleventh, you failed to control the dynamics. Should I continue?” The color drained from Holly’s face. I had only heard her play it once, through a wall, and had memorized every single one of her mistakes. That’s what you call talent. 7 Three days before the birthday, the house was a flurry of activity. Party planners, florists, and stylists bustled about, all of them focused on Holly. I was invisible, and no one asked me what I wanted or needed. It was peaceful, in a way. That afternoon, Holly came into my room without knocking. She was holding a small, elegantly wrapped box. “Sister, I got you a birthday present!” I didn’t look at it. “I don’t want it.” “Oh, don’t be like that,” she said, perching on my bed. “I truly want us to get along.” “Do you?” “Of course!” She opened the box to reveal a delicate diamond necklace. It was a classic design from a luxury brand, probably worth about fifty thousand dollars. Pocket change for the Sterlings. But her claiming it was her “favorite” was what made it interesting. “I’m giving you my favorite necklace.” “I don’t want it,” I repeated, turning a page in my book. “Sister,” she said, suddenly grabbing my hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “I know you hate me. You hate me for taking your place. But it’s not my fault! I’m a victim in all this, too. I wish I had my real parents.” Her eyes began to well up as she spoke. I pulled my hand away. “Who’s the audience for this performance?” Her tears began to fall in earnest. “I’m not performing! Do you have any idea what it’s like? Every time Mom and Dad call me Holly, I wish I was their real daughter. But I’m not! I never will be!” Right on cue, the door creaked open, and Helen appeared. “Holly, darling, why are you crying?” Perfect timing. Holly threw herself into Helen’s arms. “Mom, sister won’t accept my gift! Is it because… because I’m not worthy of giving her one?” Helen shot me a furious glare. “Nora! Holly was being kind to you. How could you treat her this way?” I closed my book and spoke slowly and deliberately. “First, I didn’t ask for a gift. Second, I have the right to refuse it. Third, why she’s crying is none of my business.” “You!” Helen was trembling with rage. “How can you be so cold and heartless!” Cold and heartless. That was the second time I’d heard that today. “Mom,” I said, standing up. “Have you ever stopped to wonder why Holly only ever seems to have these dramatic crying spells when you’re about to walk into the room?” “What are you implying?” “I’m implying she’s putting on a show,” I said, walking towards the door. “She knew what time you’d be coming to my room, so she came here beforehand with her little gift, ready to burst into tears the second you opened the door. Her goal was to make you think I’m bullying her.” Helen shook her head in disbelief. “Holly would never do something like that!” “Believe what you want,” I said, pushing past them. “Excuse me. I need to get out of here.” As I reached the top of the stairs, I glanced back. Holly, still nestled in Helen’s arms, looked over her mother’s shoulder and shot me a triumphant, teary-eyed smile. I smiled back. I’ve seen this cheap little trick a thousand times before. 8 The day before my birthday, a package arrived for me. It was from Aurelia University, with my class schedule and dorm assignment. I had applied for early move-in. I could be out of here next week. Perfect. That evening, relatives started to arrive for Holly’s party the next day. They all swarmed around Holly, cooing over how beautiful and talented she was. No one paid any attention to me in the corner. Until an elderly woman with a stern face approached me. “You must be Nora.” I looked up. It was Richard’s mother, my grandmother. “Grandma,” I said, standing up. She looked me up and down, her eyes critical. “Well, you certainly look like a Sterling.” The phrasing was subtle. I looked like one, but that didn’t mean I was one. “I hear you’ve had a difficult life,” she said. “It was manageable.” “Manageable?” she scoffed. “I heard all about your foster parents. What kind of person can a child from that environment possibly grow up to be?” I looked at her calmly. “You’re right, Grandma. I didn’t turn out to be much.” She blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree with her. “Not like Holly,” I continued, my voice sweet as poison. “Raised like a princess, a master of piano and dance. By the way, which university did she get into again?” The old woman’s face soured. Holly’s acceptance into a third-rate college was a sore spot for the family. “Your granddaughter might not have turned out to be much,” I said, smiling, “but I got lucky. I was accepted into Aurelia University.” I paused. “The number one university in the country. You’ve heard of it, right?” Her face was turning a blotchy red. “You—!” “Grandma, don’t be angry,” Holly said, appearing at the perfect moment to support her wilting grandmother. “Sister didn’t mean it.” “See? Holly is always so considerate,” the old woman said, patting Holly’s hand before shooting me one last withering look and walking away. Holly turned to me, her brow furrowed with concern. “Sister, why did you have to upset Grandma?” “I was just telling the truth.” “But—” “Holly,” I interrupted. “Aren’t you tired?” “What?” “Pretending to be the perfect, obedient girl for eighteen years. Doesn’t it get exhausting?” I leaned in close. “I know what you are.” Her expression flickered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sister.” “It’s better if you don’t,” I said, turning and walking away. 9 On the morning of our birthday, the Sterling mansion was a scene of controlled chaos. Makeup artists and hair stylists buzzed around Holly, transforming her into a princess. I was in my room, packing the last of my things to move into the dorm. Helen knocked and entered. “Nora, aren’t you going to get ready?” “Ready for what?” “For the party tonight.” I looked up at her. “I thought you said I didn’t have to attend.” “Well, not attend, exactly, but…” she stammered, embarrassed. “You could watch from upstairs. And come down for some food if you get hungry.” Ah. So I was to be hidden away, kept out of sight of the guests. “I understand.” Helen looked relieved and turned to leave. “Mom,” I called out. She stopped. “Have you ever thought that if the switch had never happened, I would be the one downstairs in the beautiful dress, surrounded by everyone?” Her body went rigid. “And Holly would be somewhere in a small town, worrying about how to pay for college.” “Nora…” “I’m not trying to steal her party,” I said with a small, sad smile. “I just want you to understand how strange fate can be.” Helen fled from the room as if escaping a fire. At seven p.m., the guests began to arrive. I watched from my third-floor window as luxury cars streamed into the driveway, depositing the wealthiest and most powerful people in the city. Holly, in a custom-made gown, glided through the crowd, accepting accolades like a true queen. Richard gave a speech, calling her the Sterling family’s most beloved treasure. Ethan gifted her a brand-new sports car. Helen presented her with a stunning set of jewels. For Holly, her eighteenth birthday was a fairytale. I remembered my last birthday. I had spent it in the back kitchen of the diner where I worked. The owner, taking pity on me, gave me a day-old cupcake. I pulled out my phone, logged into my “Luna Thirteen” account, and posted a status: It’s my birthday today. Happy birthday to me. Within seconds, the comments poured in. Happy birthday, Luna! Author, when’s the next book coming out? Happy birthday! Happy birthday! We’ll always support you! I smiled. See? Someone remembered my birthday. Even if they didn’t know who I really was. 10 I was scrolling through the comments when my door opened. It was Ethan, holding a small cake with a single candle. “Happy birthday.” I looked at him, surprised. He looked uncomfortable. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Mom sent me.” The cake was tiny. The frosting just said “Happy Birthday,” without even a name. “Thanks,” I said, taking it from him. He lingered in the doorway. “You’re not angry?” “About what?” “About… downstairs.” “That’s Holly’s party. It has nothing to do with me,” I said, opening the cake box. “I don’t care about any of that.” He frowned. “Can’t you just act normal for once?” I looked up at him. “What’s normal? Throwing a tantrum and demanding to be the center of attention? Is that what you want?” He was silent. “Ethan,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Do you know why I worked so hard to get into Aurelia University?” “Why?” “Because I knew I had to rely on myself.” I took a bite of the cake. It was sickeningly sweet. “I don’t need the Sterlings’ charity. I don’t need your pity. And I certainly don’t need you to ‘cut me some slack.’ I have hands, and I have a brain. I can make my own way in this world.” He just stared at me. “So stop looking at me like I’m some pathetic creature you need to feel sorry for,” I said with a small smile. “I, Nora Sterling, am not pitiful.” After a long silence, he finally asked, “Do you hate us?” I shook my head. “Hate requires an emotional connection. We don’t have one.” The words hit him like a physical blow. His face paled, and he turned and left. At the door, he paused. “You know, Nora, you’re too rational. You don’t act like an eighteen-year-old girl.” I looked out the window at the glittering city lights. “I stopped being a girl when I was ten.” The year I turned ten, my foster father brought his gambling buddies home for the first time. When he lost, he tried to shove me towards them, to pour their drinks and entertain them. From that day on, I knew I had to be strong, had to be rational. Because no one was ever going to protect me. After Ethan left, I finished the entire cake by myself. It was so sweet it made my teeth ache. The party music from downstairs didn’t stop until the early hours of the morning. 11 The next day, I moved into my dorm at Aurelia University. The only people home when I left were the maids. Richard and Helen had taken Holly to the hospital, claiming she was suffering from post-party excitement that had stressed her heart. Ethan was at the office. It was better that way. No goodbyes necessary. My dorm was a quad, and I was the first to arrive. After unpacking, I went to the library. It was enormous, a temple of knowledge with millions of books. I found a quiet corner, opened my laptop, and started writing a new story. This time, I decided, it would have a happy ending. Even if I couldn’t have one in real life, I could create one on the page. I wrote until evening, when my phone rang. It was Helen. “Nora, where are you? You’re not at home.” “I moved into my dorm.” “What? Why didn’t you tell us?” “Would it have mattered if I did?” The line went silent. “Just take good care of Holly,” I said. “I’m fine.” I hung up and went back to writing. When I got back to my room, my roommates had arrived. They were three friendly, normal girls. One of them looked at me with a flash of recognition. “Wait, aren’t you that… the Sterling girl?” “Yeah,” I said, knowing what she meant. The story of the long-lost Sterling heiress had made a few headlines. “Then why are you living in a dorm?” another roommate asked, curious. “The house was a little crowded,” I said vaguely. They took the hint and changed the subject. That night, lying in my narrow dorm bed, listening to the sound of their laughter and chatter, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. Here, I wasn’t the real daughter or the replacement. I was just Nora, a freshman at Aurelia University.

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After falling for a guy with nothing to his name, I hid the fact that I was an heiress. I wanted to build a life with him, starting from the ground up, working my way up from the bottom right beside him. But on the eve of our wedding, I walked in on him with his boss. “That woman, Jenna… she’s plain and broke. She’s not worth a single hair on your head, Melissa.” “I’m counting on you to help me climb the ladder.” A sharp pain bloomed in my palm as my nails dug into my skin, the only thing stopping me from throwing the door open and confronting them. I tore the ten-million-dollar contract in my hands to shreds, then sent a text to my father. “I’m coming home. I’ll do the merger.” 1 The lights in our small walk-up apartment were still on. When Caleb pushed the door open, he found me sitting on the sofa. “Jenna? You’re still up?” He slipped off his jacket, his voice gentle, as if nothing was wrong. As if the world hadn’t just shattered. I looked up, my eyes meeting his. There, on the collar of his shirt, was a tell-tale crimson stain. A smear of lipstick. “Working late?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. He nodded, tossing his jacket onto the sofa and moving in to hug me. “Yeah, project’s on a tight deadline. I’m exhausted.” The cloying, expensive perfume I knew belonged to Melissa Vance clung to him, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I shifted away, forcing a brittle smile. “I’m a little tired myself.” I hesitated, then decided to give him one last chance. A final test. “Caleb, what do you think of me?” His expression froze for a fraction of a second before he stretched his lips into a stiff smile. “You’re the best person in the world, of course. You never looked down on me for being poor. You’ve always taken care of me.” My fingertips trembled. I scoffed silently. “Is that all?” His gaze flickered between me and the clock on the wall, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Of course not. I love you more than anything.” “And what if someone better came along?” I pressed, my voice unyielding. “Someone with money? Someone who could give you a future?” “Did you hear some rumor?” he asked, a hint of panic in his voice. “We’re about to get married, Jenna. I would never want anyone else.” I stared at him, my eyes brimming with a mockery he couldn’t see. “You’re sure?” “Of course!” He grabbed my hand. His palm was damp, but his tone was painfully sincere. “I’ve wanted to marry you for so long. I just couldn’t afford it before.” He was always like this—a master of feigned sincerity. But beneath the surface… ha. I pulled my hand away and stood up, my voice turning to ice. “What about Melissa Vance?” The smile vanished from his face. “What about her?” “Nothing,” I said, the single word heavy with all my disappointment. “Get some sleep.” I gave him a chance. He didn’t take it. So be it. 2 The next morning, I gathered all my documents and went straight to the office. The glass door to Human Resources reflected the sterile, fluorescent glow of the office. When I pushed it open, Melissa Vance was leaning against a desk, her long, crimson nails tapping against a file. She was poured into a tight black dress, the gold senior executive pin on her lapel catching the light. “Well, well. If it isn’t our star assistant, Jenna,” she drawled, putting a venomous emphasis on the word assistant. “You’re in early. Here to quit?” The HR manager, a kind older woman named Kate, stood awkwardly to the side, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. I calmly placed my resignation letter on the desk. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’d like it processed as soon as possible.” Melissa’s hand shot out, pressing down on the paper. “What’s the rush?” She leaned closer, her perfume making my temples throb. “You know, Caleb was at my place last night. We were ‘working’ very late.” She ran a suggestive finger over a faint red mark on her neck, her voice dripping with provocation. “Young men have so much… stamina.” My nails dug deeper into my palm. Just then, the door swung open and Caleb rushed in, a stack of files in his arms. “Melissa, here are the reports you—” His voice died in his throat. Three pairs of eyes met in the suffocating silence. Caleb’s tie was crooked, and another faint lipstick smear stained his collar. The sight of me sent a jolt of panic across his face. “Jenna? What are you doing here?” “Just taking care of some business with Ms. Vance,” I said, my voice as sharp as broken glass. “After all, you seem to enjoy how she… takes care of business, don’t you?” Melissa let out a short, sharp laugh and patted Caleb’s shoulder intimately. “Your girlfriend is a real character.” She turned back to me, her lips curling into a sneer. “Jenna, you’re just a broke kid with a useless degree. Nobody’s going to hire you after you leave here. Isn’t that right, our future director?” Caleb just stood there, his lips moving silently. Finally, he lowered his head and started shuffling the perfectly organized stack of papers. His silence was more damning than any confession. I snatched my signed departure form. As I turned to leave, I gave Caleb one last look. “You know, I was packing up my things yesterday and found that necklace you gave me.” His head shot up. I smiled, a cold, cutting thing. “It’s a fake.” Walking out of the building, the sky was a heavy, oppressive gray. I took a deep breath and dialed my father’s number. “Dad, I quit. I’ll be home tomorrow.” On the other end, I could hear the relief in his voice. “Good. Just come home.” I hung up and glanced back at the office tower where I’d wasted three years of my life. My heart was a block of ice. Back in the apartment, the fluorescent lights buzzed, casting a sickly white glow. Caleb followed me in as I shoved the last of my sweaters into a suitcase. “Jenna, don’t be like this!” he pleaded, grabbing my wrist. There was real fear in his voice now. “There’s nothing going on between me and Melissa! She’s just… you know, very forward.” I wrenched my arm free and pulled a velvet box from a drawer. Inside lay the “gold” necklace he’d supposedly saved up three months’ salary to buy. I threw it into the trash can. The clatter of cheap metal was deafening. “Forward enough to leave hickeys on your neck? Forward enough that you’ve worn the same shirt for three days straight?” I pointed to the laundry rack on the balcony, closing my eyes against the sting of tears. “Caleb, every single day when I washed your shirt, all I could smell was her perfume!” The color drained from his face. “Let me explain.” “Explain what?” I shot back, my voice dripping with scorn. “Explain how you told her in the conference room that I was plain and poor? Or explain how you threw away your dignity for a promotion?” A sudden downpour started outside, raindrops lashing against the window like a thousand tiny slaps. Caleb sank onto the edge of the bed, defeated. “I know I’m not good enough for you,” he mumbled, his voice a mix of sorrow and something uglier—a calculated threat. “But this promotion is everything to me. How am I supposed to marry you without it?” It felt like ants were crawling under my skin. I zipped up my suitcase. The sound of the metal teeth locking together felt like an ending. “Believe whatever you want.” With that, I turned and walked to the door. “Where are you going?” he scrambled up, blocking my way. “Business trip,” I lied, my heart cold. “Last-minute thing. I’ll be gone a week.” He opened his mouth, then closed it, letting out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Be safe. Come back soon.” I didn’t answer. I just pulled my suitcase behind me and walked out of that apartment, and out of that life, for good. 3 The day after I returned home, my father arranged for me to meet my intended. In the sun-drenched parlor of the Sinclair Estate, the front doors swung open, and the Earl Grey tea I was sipping caught in my throat. The man standing there was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, a wry smile playing on his lips. It was my childhood rival, the one person I could never stand. “Julian Croft! What are you doing here?” I slammed my cup down, the clatter startling a black cat outside the window. “Disappointed to see me?” Julian asked, slowly polishing his gold-rimmed glasses. His voice was as infuriating as I remembered. “I heard the great Jenna Sinclair ran away from home for love. I came back just to see the show.” The lenses of his glasses caught the light, and his eyes curved into a dangerous arc. “I didn’t expect to find a drowned rat.” I hurled a silk cushion at him, my face flushing with anger. “You’re the rat!” He caught it effortlessly, his playful demeanor suddenly vanishing. “I heard the guy was sleeping with his boss.” When I didn’t answer, he let out a short, harsh laugh. “I told you. The first thing a man like that throws away when he gets a taste of money is his conscience.” “What do you know!” I shot up from my seat, ready to defend… what? I didn’t even know anymore. “At least he—” “At least he what?” Julian stood too, his tall frame casting a shadow over me. “Cooked you soup when you had a cold? Made you breakfast?” He reached out, his fingers closing around my chin, forcing me to meet his searching gaze. “Jenna, when did you get so cheap?” I slapped his hand away, but his next words stopped me cold. “So, what do you say? Want to marry me?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Why not?” he pressed. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see my father and his, old Mr. Croft, chatting amiably in the garden. I stared at the diamond tie pin on Julian’s tie and crossed my arms. “I want the wedding of the century. I want every media outlet there.” He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “And?” I met his gaze, my voice steady and cold as steel. “And on my wedding day, I want Caleb to watch, in person, as Melissa Vance’s company goes bankrupt.” Julian threw his head back and laughed, a rich, genuine sound that filled the room. He reached out and ruffled my hair. “Now that’s the Jenna Sinclair I know.” 4 The wedding was set for the following week, and it was an affair of breathtaking extravagance. I stood in the dressing room, my hands clammy in the couture gown. Julian pushed the door open and saw my nerves. “Having second thoughts?” he teased. I shot him a glare. “Shut up.” He chuckled, stepping forward to adjust my veil. “Relax. I’m here. No one will dare laugh at you.” I paused, and for a fleeting moment, I thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so bad after all. On the guest registry, Caleb’s name was crammed into a corner. As Melissa’s “plus-one,” he’d been seated at an extra table in the very back. I could see him fawning over her, pouring champagne, his eyes darting hungrily toward the lavish gift tables. Then, the wedding march began. As I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm, I saw Caleb’s back go rigid out of the corner of my eye. The champagne flute in his hand tipped, spilling red wine all over Melissa’s dress. “What the hell are you doing?” Her shriek turned a few heads. But Caleb didn’t hear her. He was staring, transfixed, at the diamond-encrusted belt on my wedding gown. The one he’d once said he could never afford in a thousand lifetimes. “And now, the bride and groom will exchange rings,” the officiant announced. Julian deliberately lifted my left hand high, letting the ten-carat pink diamond catch the spotlights and explode with light. “You may now kiss your bride.” The second the words were spoken, Julian lifted my veil and his lips met mine. The hall erupted in applause. In my peripheral vision, I saw Caleb stumble forward, trying to push through the crowd, only to be blocked by security. “Jenna!” he cried out, his voice raw with anguish. The orchestra swelled, perfectly timed, drowning him out. Julian wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “Care for a bit more drama?” Before I could answer, he turned back to the microphone. “Thank you all for coming. We’d especially like to thank my wife’s former colleagues for joining us.” The spotlight operator took the cue, swinging the beam directly onto Caleb’s pale, horrified face. He nervously clutched the lapels of his cheap suit, his jaw tight with rage. “Jenna, how could you marry someone else? Was it just for the money?!” Julian let out a cold laugh, his voice laced with contempt. “Money? Mr. Evans, I think you’re confusing my wife with yourself.” He paused for effect. “You see, you seem to be under the impression that you were dating a simple assistant.” The spotlight seemed to burn brighter. “My wife… is Jenna Sinclair. Heiress to the Sinclair Corporation.”

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