The third year I was home, I jumped from the roof. My soul lingered in the air, a ghost expecting a spectacle. I wanted to see the parents and the brother who had despised me finally break down, sobbing with a regret that had come three years too late. But my father just shook his head, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes as he looked down at my broken body. “So dramatic,” he muttered. My mother pressed her lips into a thin line, and a long, slow breath escaped her. It was a sigh of relief. My brother, Caleb, stepped in front of the girl who had taken my place, shielding her from the gruesome sight of my end. But she saw enough to start crying, and in an instant, the entire family was a fortress of arms around her, cooing and comforting. I floated there for a long time, a hollow ache where my heart used to be. Then, a bitter laugh escaped my spectral form. Of course. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they first brought me home. 1 It took me a long time, sitting in stunned silence on the plush velvet sofa, to accept that I was alive again. Across from me, the people who were supposed to be my parents dabbed at their red-rimmed eyes, their voices thick as they spoke of a decade of longing, of the guilt that had eaten at them. They had missed me for ten years, they said. The first time I lived this, their words had been a dam breaking inside me. I’d collapsed into their arms, sobbing with the sheer, naive belief that I had found it. A home. That I was loved. But that belief ended three years later, with my hands tangled in my own hair, my screams echoing as I threw myself from their roof, hoping my death could finally buy me an ounce of their affection. It couldn’t. No one had ever loved me. So this time, I felt nothing. I sat there, as still and silent as a piece of wood. “Oh, honey, you must still be overwhelmed. It’s okay.” My mother’s voice was syrupy sweet. She took my hand, her skin soft against my calloused one. “Let’s go pick out your room. Whichever one you want!” My father followed, smiling, pulling out his phone to call my brother, Caleb. He was telling him to hurry home. From the speaker, Caleb’s voice was flat. A single word. “Busy.” My father’s smile tightened. My mother’s was strained. She turned to me, offering a quick explanation. “Your brother’s a very important man at the company. He’s basically running things now. We probably won’t see him until the weekend.” Last time, I believed her. This time, it didn’t matter. I’d just pretend to believe her again. The third floor was a gallery of perfect girlhood bedrooms, each one bright, airy, and decorated in soft pastels. “Take your pick, Mia,” my father said, his voice beaming with false generosity. “Any one of them can be yours.” My eyes landed on the room closest to the stairs. On the queen-sized bed, propped against a mountain of pillows, sat a giant, fluffy teddy bear. Last time, that bear had been a siren’s call. Believing I was the cherished, long-lost daughter, I had chosen that room without a second thought. I loved that bear. Just like last time, my parents’ faces flickered. They exchanged a look, a tiny, almost imperceptible tightening around their eyes, before the smiles returned. “Oh, Mia, honey, we forgot to mention. That’s your sister Chloe’s room.” “She’s such a thoughtful girl,” my mother rushed to add. “She insisted on clearing it out, said you should have your pick. You deserve the biggest one, of course…” I remember blinking at them then, my heart swelling with gratitude. “She’s letting me have her room? That’s so nice of her.” I still wanted the bear. I still wanted that room. My parents exchanged another look. They were hesitating, words caught in their throats. But the first me, giddy with a joy I’d never known, had already run inside and thrown my arms around that bear. And right on cue, Chloe walked in, her prep school backpack slung over one shoulder. 2 Chloe and I were the same age, fifteen. But she was a woman of the world, and I was a girl who knew only dirt and chores. She was polished; I was raw. Seeing me in her room, her lips tightened for a fraction of a second before a perfect, dimpled smile appeared. “I heard my sister was home, so I got out of class early. You like this room? It’s yours, then.” She bit her lip and turned away, a perfect portrait of reluctant sacrifice. My parents saw it all. Every flicker, every gesture. My mother hurried in, trying to guide me away. “Mia, let’s look at the others. This one is… well, it’s a bit too big, don’t you think?” “Why?” I asked, genuinely confused. The atmosphere had shifted, grown heavy and tight, and a knot of anxiety was forming in my stomach. But I couldn’t understand it. Weren’t these the people who had cried for me, who loved me? Wasn’t Chloe the sister who had generously offered me her own space? I was their daughter. Why was it wrong to want a room I liked? My questions hung in the air. My mother’s expression flickered again. My father stood stiffly in the doorway, his jaw set. Then Chloe, the peacemaker, stepped forward. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll help my sister make the bed. This is her home now. She should have whatever she wants.” 3 So, I stayed. On the farm, my world had been pots, pans, and fields. In the city, I was lost. I didn’t know the rules. I didn’t know what was wrong. I hadn’t even been in Chloe’s room for a full day when Caleb came home. He found me sitting on the bed, reading a book. He stormed in, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the hallway, his face a mask of cold fury. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he hissed, his voice low and venomous. “This is Chloe’s room. Have you no decency? You think you can just show up and take over?”

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I was on a reality show with my A-list brother, and the director told us to name one thing we’d done that no one else in the group had. When it was my turn, I smiled sweetly and said, “I’ve made my brother cry. By punching him.” The live chat exploded. [LMAO, the tabloids call him a violent monster. You mean the kind that gets beaten to tears by his little sister?] [Isn’t he famous for having the worst temper in the industry?] But then he saw one comment that scrolled by: [His sister is so cute! I want to take her home!] That’s when my brother finally lost it. “Back off!” he snarled at the screen. “Don’t you people have your own sisters?!” 1 I was home for the summer, sprawled on our living room couch, half-watching TV while scrolling through my phone. On screen, my brother’s concert was being broadcast live from a sold-out stadium. The music was electric, a pulsing beat that vibrated through the floor. He moved with a slick, practiced ease, hitting every mark with predatory grace. Below him, a sea of fans screamed his name. “LEO! I LOVE YOU!” “OH MY GOD, HE’S UNREAL!” “LEO ROTH! THE KING!” The music crashed to a halt, and the camera zoomed in for a tight close-up. On the massive screen, Leo Roth, my brother, wore an expression of sublime, untouchable arrogance. The impeccable rock god persona. He held the pose, cool and detached, a king surveying his domain. The next second, the real Leo pushed open the living room door. He stood there, looking at me with the pleading eyes of a kicked puppy, dressed in a fluffy, bright pink Peppa Pig onesie. “Maya, please,” he whined. “Just come with me. It’s only for three days.” “No,” I said, not looking up from my phone. “Every other guest has their sister with them. Even my nemesis, Asher Kane, dug up some long-lost cousin to bring along.” He’d been begging me for days to join him on this reality show. “Absolutely not,” I said firmly. It’s not that I’m heartless. It’s that I’ve seen the headlines. Trending #1: #LeoRothAngerIssues Trending #2: #LeoRothThreatensPaparazzi Trending #3: #LeoRothNewSingleSlaps Two out of three were PR nightmares. I had no desire to get caught in the crossfire of his public persona. Instead of a windfall of fame by association, I’d just get a shitstorm of drama dumped on my head. Seeing that his puppy-dog act wasn’t working, my brother played his trump card. “If you come, I’ll give you three pieces of fresh Hollywood gossip. 100% verified.” My head snapped up. Gossip? The good kind? “Deal,” I said. To hesitate for even a second would be a profound disrespect to the art of the spill. 2 Sibling Rivalry was a reality show filmed at a rustic, luxury farmhouse, with every moment of the three-day shoot live-streamed. To boost engagement, a live comment feed scrolled constantly across the screen. The moment my brother and I stepped out of the black SUV, the feed blew up. LeoIsMyHusband: LEO’S HERE! AHHHHH! MusicMaven22: He’s hot, but the permanent scowl is a turn-off. I heard he’s got a temper. RothArmy4Ever: That’s just a rumor Asher Kane’s fans started. Get a life. CutiePie: Is that his sister? She’s so adorable! I saw that one pair of siblings had already arrived and were sitting on a plush sofa in the waiting area. When I recognized the guy’s all-too-familiar face, my smile twitched. Of course. You have got to be kidding me. Caleb Hayes. My childhood friend. Nicknamed the “Crown Prince of the Hamptons,” he’d stumbled into acting to kill time before he had to take over his father’s empire. He’d since become famous for playing handsome, charismatic assholes in a few hit streaming shows—a role that required very little acting on his part. His eyes lit up when he saw me. “Maya!” He strode over, his hand instinctively rising to ruffle my hair like he used to when we were kids. The comment feed immediately went into detective mode. GossipGirlXOXO: Caleb Hayes knows Leo Roth’s sister?! NYCNightlife: Isn’t he like, East Coast royalty? Total player. They probably met at some club. JustSaying: She looks so innocent, but I guess she’s a party girl… I had no intention of getting tangled in manufactured drama before the cameras were even properly rolling. I took a quick step back, creating a clear distance between us. Caleb noticed my deliberate retreat and let his hand fall, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He coolly slid back onto the sofa, trying to look like he hadn’t just been subtly rebuffed. The girl beside him offered us a warm smile. “Hi, you must be Maya. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Chloe, Caleb’s cousin.” Wow. The little kid who used to follow Caleb around with a perpetually runny nose had grown up into a legitimately beautiful young woman. She greeted me warmly but gave my brother a look that was decidedly frosty. Leo leaned over and whispered, “Does she have a problem with me? What did I ever do to her?” You seriously don’t remember? I decided to jog his memory. “You grilled the two pet chicks she was raising in her backyard when you were twelve.” Comprehension dawned on his face. He rubbed his nose, managing a sheepish, awkward laugh. Before we could even sit down, another SUV pulled up. A man and a woman stepped out, scanning the area. The guy in the crisp white blazer was Asher Kane, a rising pop star and Leo’s designated industry rival. He’d built his entire career on being a budget version of my brother. The woman with him was Seraphina Belle, a new actress whose entire brand was built around being a sweet, sophisticated heiress. Her fans called her the “Princess of Bel Air.” Seraphina was dressed in a pale pink, silk cheongsam-style dress, her heels adorned with delicate pearls. She looked like a fragile, perfect little flower. SeraBelleFan: SERAPHINA IS HERE! All together now: The Princess has arrived! PrincessProtectionSquad: The Princess has arrived!!! AsherIsKing: Asher looks amazing! He could totally pass for a younger Leo Roth! LeoFan1: Don’t even compare that clone to the original. So annoying. AsherStan: Says the Leo Roth fan. Like idol, like fan. Both toxic. WaitAMinute: Am I crazy or does Seraphina look kinda… plain next to Maya? Sera4eva: Are you blind?! Seraphina is a goddess and you’re trash! Seraphina definitely saw that last comment comparing us. A shadow of hostility flickered in her eyes as she looked at me. 3 Asher Kane approached my brother with a cloying, deferential smile, extending his hand. “Leo, it’s been a while. Great to be working with you.” Before Leo could even react, the comments were already crucifying him. See_The_Truth: See? Asher is so polite! RumorMill: The rumors must be true. Leo Roth is an arrogant jerk who thinks he’s above everyone. Justice4Asher: Look at our poor Asher, he looks so scared. Leo must have bullied him before! I saw a flash of triumph in Asher’s eyes. Oh, so that’s the game we’re playing. I stepped in front of my brother, moving close to Asher. I pitched my voice to a soft, innocent whisper. “Hey, can I ask you something? How do you get the bridge of your nose to catch the light like that?” Asher instinctively clapped a hand over his nose, his face flooding with panic. “What… What are you talking about?” Leo had told me all about it. To become “the next Leo Roth,” Asher had spent a small fortune on plastic surgery to mimic my brother’s features. Asher shot me a furious glare before storming off to the sofa. Seraphina, meanwhile, completely ignored us and made a point of sitting right next to Caleb, acting as if they were old friends. The comments immediately ran with the narrative she was pushing. CelebCouples: The Princess of Bel Air and the Prince of the Hamptons! They look so good together! User987: Some random girl who just showed up isn’t even in the same league. Facts: Exactly. Seraphina is actual old money. They move in different circles. She started fussing with a teacup, making little clinking noises, clearly trying to get Caleb’s attention. It was a wasted effort. Caleb picked up a magazine and became utterly engrossed in it. Thwarted, Seraphina turned her attention to Chloe. But just as she was about to speak, Chloe hopped up, ran over to me, and grabbed my hand, pulling me down to sit beside her. My brother followed, taking the last empty spot. “Maya, I heard you just got back from studying abroad! Was it amazing?” Chloe began, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve been thinking about applying to Parsons, could you tell me about it? Oh, and can I please come hang out after the show is done?” Chloe was a whirlwind of excited energy, and I found myself smiling as I answered her questions. Across from us, Seraphina sat awkwardly, her polite smile plastered on, the odd one out. Watcher123: Wait, are Seraphina and the Hayes cousins not actually friends? Cringe: This is weird. She’s supposed to be this big socialite, but she looks totally out of her depth. GirlPower: Chloe and Maya seem so genuine together! SoCute: Two adorable girls, my screen has been blessed!!! Seraphina watched the comments, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze, filled with resentment, landed on my neck. “Oh!” she exclaimed, her voice suddenly loud and performative. “You have that necklace too?” Her outburst drew the director’s attention, and a camera zoomed in on the delicate chain around my neck. She stepped closer, peering at it with fake curiosity. “That’s a Dubois, isn’t it? From her limited collection? There are only five in the entire world. I can’t believe you have one too! But… yours looks a little different from the one I have…” She let the accusation hang in the air. Then, as if realizing her “mistake,” she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to imply it’s a fake or anything! It’s just, Madame Dubois is a designer I deeply admire, so I get a little carried away. Please forgive me.” The comment section immediately turned on me. LOL: Someone wore a knock-off to a live-streamed show? That’s embarrassing. SeraBelleFan: Our princess is so classy. Not like some people. TeamAsher: Her brother’s a bully and she wears fake jewelry. What a lovely family. A fake? I blinked, genuinely confused. The production team, clearly smelling blood in the water, did nothing, waiting for me to apologize and create a dramatic scene. Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone, opened my messaging app, and tapped on a pinned contact. I sent a quick message. Five minutes later, a new post appeared on Madame Dubois’s official, verified Instagram account, written in perfect English. “A joy to see my brilliant student, Maya Roth, wearing the piece I gifted her. A symbol of our shared passion for design! ” The internet exploded. #MayaRothDuboisStudent #MayaRothParsons #SiblingRivalryStyle Seraphina’s face went from flushed red to a sickly pale. I casually closed the app, but not before noticing another trending topic just below the ones about me. #SeraphinaBelleMansion Was this girl really buying her own trending topics? Curious, I clicked on it. The post featured a picture of Seraphina in a ballet tutu, striking a contrived pose in a large, opulent living room. But it wasn’t her that caught my eye. The sofa. The coffee table. And on the wall behind her, a framed, childish doodle of a My Little Pony. My heart skipped a beat. What the hell? That’s our empty villa in Malibu.

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The System said I was a crybaby, so it gave me the villain’s script. Wiping away my tears, I looked up at my six-foot-three brother and stammered, “I’m sorry, but you’re a bastard, and I have to bully you.” The System’s voice was harsh in my mind. “Keep insulting him! Slap him!” “St-stupid… idiot!” I managed. Then I clumsily rose onto my tiptoes, my hand reaching shakily for his face. The slap was barely a tap. My brother seemed to enjoy it. 1 In the world of this book, the man who would one day become the most bloodthirsty and misanthropic Regent in history, Kael, was currently kneeling in the snow. Our father had just discovered he wasn’t his biological son and had cast him out in the freezing cold as punishment. And I was his universally despised stepsister, Faye. My role was to deliver him a bowl of scalding chicken soup during his moment of utter disgrace. Not to drink, of course. To his legs. [Stop crying! All you do is cry, you’ll cry all your good fortune away!] the System bellowed impatiently in my head. [Sniff… but I’m scared.] My legs were trembling so hard I could barely hold the soup bowl steady. It wasn’t my fault. Kael was terrifying. He had sharp, fierce eyes and a commanding presence, and he’d shot up to six-foot-three. Even kneeling, he looked like a mountain. Worse, he was a battle-hardened soldier who could snap a man’s neck with one hand. He’d just rushed back from the training grounds and was still wearing form-fitting leather armor that did nothing to hide the powerful muscles beneath. His chest, rising and falling with each breath, was the most intimidating part. I hesitated for a long time before finally getting my tears under control. The searing soup had already raised several blisters on my hands. I walked over to him. “Brother,” I whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Then I let my hands go limp, and the bowl tilted. But Kael, hearing my apology, had already turned. With a flick of two fingers, he batted the bowl aside before it could hit him. Only a few drops of soup splashed onto his thigh. He frowned, his expression darkening as he prepared to question me. But then two streams of fresh tears burst from my eyes. The System was yelling at me again. [Are you an idiot? Why did you say sorry? Are you brain-dead?!] [I’m sorry, I’ve never done anything like this before.] [Do you want to complete this mission and leave this world or not? I’m warning you, if you keep being such a coward, I’ll leave you here to be tortured to death by Kael after he turns evil!] [I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!] My apologies turned into gulping sobs. Kael’s anger melted into exasperation. “Were you holding that for a long time?” he asked suddenly, his gaze falling on the blisters on my palms. I nodded. “Don’t play the saint right now,” he said coldly. “It’s distracting, unsightly, and you’ve stained my clothes.” I froze. In the original story, Faye scalded Kael’s leg so badly that, combined with the prolonged kneeling, he became permanently crippled. He was only healed later when he met the story’s heroine, who nursed him back to health. Kael never forgot what Faye did. Once he became Regent, he had her branded with a hot iron every day. They would let the wounds heal, then tear them open and brand her again. Cruelty and a long memory were Kael’s defining traits. A loud mouth and a painful ending were mine. The System let out a screech of frustration. [Why does he think you were bringing him soup to drink? Is he crazy? Why is he trying to see the good in you?] Because I’m just a timid, soft-hearted person, I explained silently, not daring to say it to the System. [Fix this! Now! Kick him! Kick him a few times, try to break his leg!] I scrambled to obey. I lifted my right foot. Kael, who had just looked away with a cold, dismissive expression, suddenly went rigid. He slowly lowered his gaze. A delicate, embroidered slipper was pressed against his lower abdomen, grinding back and forth. The pressure wasn’t heavy. It didn’t hurt. But the single pearl on the toe of the slipper trembled nervously. My voice was small and nasal as I sniffled, “Brother, are you angry now?” 2 [! HOST! YOU CALL THAT A KICK? I COULD BREATHE ON HIM HARDER THAN THAT!] the System roared. I held back my tears, determined not to cry in front of Kael again. The System’s scolding left me flustered. I started to pull my foot away, but another sharp reprimand from the System made me press it back against him. [But… I think he is angry. His ears are all red,] I whispered in my defense. Kael’s ears were indeed red—a translucent, crimson hue, as if all the blood in his body had rushed to them. He stared down at my slipper, then shot me an icy glare. “Faye, do you have any idea what you’re doing?” That scared me even more. Ignoring the System’s threats, I started sobbing again. “I’m sorry!” I whimpered, trying to retract my foot. But this time, Kael’s hand shot out and grabbed my ankle. His palm was searingly hot, his long fingers wrapping around me with ease. Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell in a clumsy heap in the snow right in front of him. The tears I’d been holding back finally came crashing down. Only then did Kael slowly release me. He tilted his chin up, looking down at my pathetic, sprawling form with an air of indifference. “If you ever come near me again, it won’t be just a fall.” I nodded, trembling, and scrambled away. After a few steps, I stopped and turned back. I gave him a deep bow, repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Then I rushed forward again, intending to pat the footprint off his clothes. But my hand brushed against a hard, raised object beneath the fabric. ! He had a dagger hidden there! For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed Kael’s face. He seized my wrist, grabbing my collar and pulling me up so we were eye to eye. “Don’t get any ideas. It’s just that… it’s been a long time… so it’s easy to…” He took a deep, steadying breath, cutting off his own vague explanation. “Get away from me!” he snarled. Coming from a man who had seen battle, the force of his voice was enough to make my legs turn to jelly. I stumbled away, my feet sinking deep into the snow with every panicked step. Once I was back in my room, I finally caught my breath enough to speak to the System. “That counts as a success, right, Mr. System?” I ticked off the points on my fingers. “I spilled the soup, I kicked him a bunch, and he got angry and yelled at me.” The System was speechless. [Your next mission,] it said, its voice dripping with annoyance, [is to imprison Kael after he’s thrown out of the family. You will whip him and humiliate him every day.] “How… how do I humiliate him?” [Just improvise… no, forget it. When the time comes, you’ll listen to me. Do exactly as I say. Not one word more, not one action more. Got it?] I nodded obediently. But the System still wasn’t convinced. [Faye, do you understand what ‘do exactly as I say’ means? If I tell you to breathe hard, you don’t get to breathe soft. If I tell you not to cry, you suck those tears right back in!] I clenched my fists. “I’ll try my best next time! I’m sorry, Mr. System. I messed things up for you this time.” That seemed to satisfy it. [By the way, the source text is vague about this part of Kael’s life. So you only need to remember one line. You have to get this line right.] The System’s voice changed, mimicking a tone that was chillingly cool and flippant, cruel and sharp. [Brother, for the rest of your life, you are fit for only one thing: to be my dog.] 3 When Kael was finally cast out, his body was covered in wounds from being beaten with rods. His thin linen clothes were no match for the biting wind. The only things he took with him were the sword he had earned through his military service and a scented sachet his mother had left him. He was a lonely figure, but his back was ramrod straight. Even in defeat, he hadn’t lost his formidable spirit. I thought he would have no lingering attachment to our home, but as he stood at the gate, he suddenly turned and asked a servant, “Where is Faye?” The servant’s face was hard. “Kael, you are no longer part of this family. Why should we report Miss Faye’s whereabouts to you?” A flicker of something crossed Kael’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a cold sneer. “I was just relieved that little pest wasn’t here to get in my way. From now on, this family and I go our separate ways.” Hiding in a nearby alley, I flinched when I heard that. How did he know I was planning to get in his way? [Stop shaking! He’s coming! Grab the club and go! Hit him over the head and drag him into the carriage!] the System snapped. I scrambled out of the alley. This time, I didn’t waste time with pleasantries. I just raised the large wooden club. THWACK! Kael collapsed without a sound. Only then did I whisper, “I’m sorry, Brother.” Thankfully, I had swept the ground beforehand and even laid down a small mat. It would be so rude to let him fall face-first into the mud. I let out a sigh of relief and hooked my arms under his, dragging him toward the carriage. Kael was thinner than I’d imagined. Up close, I could see how his cheekbones jutted out and how his eyes were slightly sunken. I sighed again. He was barely twenty, yet he had to endure betrayal, punishment, and exile. And through it all, he remained so strong, never shedding a single tear. Not like me. Just thinking about what he was going through made my eyes well up. I really admired him. If I had met him in my own world, I would have tried my best to be his friend. He was so big, I was afraid I’d lose my grip and his head would hit the carriage door. So I gently cradled his head against my chest to steady him. Kael was unconscious, and the System didn’t care about these small details. After I got him inside, I realized he was burning up with a fever, his face flushed a deep red. [Why do you care? He won’t die. You could stab him seven or eight times and he’d still be fine. He’s the male lead,] the System grumbled. I hardened my heart, climbed into the driver’s seat, and urged the horses toward my private villa. I was born to my father’s second wife, making Kael and I half-siblings. Now, I guess we were nothing to each other. My mother came from a wealthy merchant family and had left me a country estate for summer retreats. For me, it was a paradise. For Kael, it was about to become the crucible where he would be reforged in fire. I fastened an iron collar around his neck and locked shackles on his wrists and ankles. Kael’s head lolled forward, completely unaware as I tied him to a chair with thick ropes and even removed his shirt. Everything was ready. All I had to do was wait for him to wake up. Then the humiliation could begin. 4 [When he wakes up, you’re going to douse him with a bucket of cold water. Then, you whip him. Whip him until he’s furious, struggling against his bonds but completely helpless. Got it?] I nodded obediently. [And then,] the System continued, [at his moment of ultimate shame, you look at him with cold, merciless contempt and tell him to be your dog. Understood?] I nodded furiously. I’d been practicing the line for days. I didn’t want to disappoint Mr. System, who had the misfortune of being paired with a useless crybaby like me. I picked up the bucket, suppressing the anxiety and pity rising in my chest. [This time, you can’t just splash a little, and you can’t miss. Aim for his face and dump the whole thing on him!] the System said excitedly. I gritted my teeth, extended my arms, and was about to throw the water when— Kael’s eyes snapped open. “What are you doing?” A wave of cold fury washed over me. I stumbled backward, tripped on the whip I’d left on the floor, and the entire bucket of ice-cold water sloshed all over me. SPLASH! My clothes clung to my skin, the cold seeping deep into my bones. Don’t cry. Don’t cry! I shivered violently, biting my lip to hold back a sob. The chains rattled as Kael instinctively tried to stand, only to be held fast by the ropes. His eyes were fixed on me. “Faye, what kind of game are you playing now?!” [You! You! Do you have butter on your feet? Why do you fall everywhere you go?!] the System raged. “Mr. System, I’m sorry,” I explained quickly. “My arms were just so sore, I couldn’t hold the bucket steady. I’m sorry.” [So what if he’s awake? Why are you scared? Just throw the water!] the System howled. “But it would get in his eyes,” I whispered. “The water isn’t clean. He could get an infection.” The System sighed in exasperation. [Fine, fine! Getting paired with a useless host like you is so annoying! Listen up. Repeat after me, word for word.] The System’s voice became a cold sneer. [Brother, after all, we were family once. You’ve been so kind to me over the years. How could I possibly let you go so easily?] Hugging my freezing body, I stood up and forced a malicious smile. “Brother, after all, we were family once. You’ve been so kind to me over the years. How could I possibly let you go so easily?” I didn’t realize that, to an outsider, my eyes—reddened from the cold and glistening with unshed tears—looked utterly heartbreaking. My voice was fragile, yet my face was stretched into a painful smile. [Huh… something about that doesn’t feel right,] the System muttered, confused. Kael, for his part, showed no signs of anger. Alarmingly, the cold fury in his eyes had vanished completely. He wasn’t even glaring anymore. “If you couldn’t bear to let me go,” he said, “why didn’t you come to see me off when I left?” [??? Are you insane?! How can you say something so disgusting?!] the System shrieked. [Who cares if she came to see you off! She’s your enemy!] I parroted the System. “Who cares if I came to see you off! I’m your enemy!” I had no idea how utterly bizarre that sounded coming from me. My voice was small and soft, turning the harsh words into something that sounded like a petulant, twisted form of affection. Kael actually smiled. [I didn’t tell you to say that! Take it back!] the System sputtered, equally stunned. How was I supposed to take back something I’d already said? The System’s scolding left me flustered. I looked at Kael miserably. “Just pretend you didn’t hear that last part.” [Forget it, forget it! Just grab the whip and hit him!] I quickly picked up the whip, my hand gripping the handle tightly. I had practiced for hours by myself so I wouldn’t accidentally hit myself. I stared at his bare chest. This time, I would get it right. 5 The thin whip cut through the air, wrapping around Kael’s side. CRACK! The sound was sharp and clear. A thin red welt appeared on his lower abdomen, slowly spreading into a wider mark as the pain set in. “Ngh…” he grunted softly, his eyes lifting to meet mine. [It’s working! Keep hitting him!] But I didn’t share the System’s excitement. I felt awful. The cellar was already cold, and I was soaked to the bone. It felt like my insides were freezing solid. A sudden, burning pain shot through my lungs, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Forcing myself to stay composed, I replied politely, “Yes, thank you for your help, Mr. System.” The next time the whip fell, my aim was off. The tip of it flicked against the inside of his thigh. Kael’s eyebrows shot up, a dark fire igniting in the depths of his eyes. “…Careful…” I whispered to the System, “Mr. System, does this count as him being angry?” But the System asked, [What’s wrong with you? Your voice sounds strange.] I shook my head, trying to sound strong. “It’s nothing, just a little tired. I can finish the mission.” My vision was starting to blur, seeing double. I straightened up with a great effort and delivered my final line to Kael. “Brother, for the rest of your life, you are fit for only one thing: to be my dog.” I couldn’t hear if he responded. I swayed on my feet, took a few delirious steps, and collapsed onto his lap. Huh? Where does he keep that dagger? I didn’t see it before, but I can feel it again now. That was my last thought before I fainted.

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The night of our graduation dinner, I took the drunk campus belle to the campus bad boy’s room. But my childhood friend mistook me for her. One night of chaos. Everyone said I did it on purpose to break them up. For years after we were married, I tried everything to win his heart, but it remained cold. Until one day, I overheard him on the phone. “As long as Beth is happy, I’m willing to waste my whole life keeping Thea tied down.” “Who would want to marry a bookworm like her, anyway?” “She wants a baby? Fine. I’ll give her one.” The harsh blare of a car horn cut him off. He spun around instinctively and saw me standing at the corner. His face paled, and he lunged toward me, trying to push me out of the way. The next second, we were both sent flying. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the graduation dinner. This time, I decided to let them have each other. 1 Only my childhood friend, Liam, knew that I had a crush on the campus bad boy, Jaxon. The night of our university graduation dinner, Beth asked me to help her to a room to rest. I didn’t know it was Jaxon’s room. And Beth was a master actress. The moment we were out of sight, she was instantly sober, a mocking glint in her eyes as she looked at me. In my past life, I was too naive to see it. I was, as everyone called me, the scheming, venomous bookworm. It wasn’t until I heard Liam’s phone call right before I died that I finally understood. He was willing to sacrifice his entire life for Beth. And I had been foolish enough to believe him when he’d proposed, when he’d told me he loved me. Before I died, Liam and I lay together in a pool of blood. When the speeding car hit, he had thrown himself in front of me, taking the brunt of the impact with his back. But it was useless. The force of the collision sent me flying. As my consciousness faded, I could just make out Liam, covered in blood, stubbornly crawling toward me despite the agony that wracked his body. The wounds on his fingers were deep enough to show bone, and his voice was a broken tremor. “Thea, don’t scare me.” “Wake up, let me explain!” “I was wrong, Thea. I was so wrong.” His heartbroken cries made me want to vomit. A torrent of blood gushed from my lips. In the final moments of my life, I found one last ounce of strength. I moved my fingers, just enough to pull away from the hand he was desperately trying to link with mine. Too late for apologies now. 2 “Thea, what’s too late?” “You haven’t had that much to drink. Come on, have another.” A voice pulled me from my memories. I realized I was back in my senior year of university. Jaxon was hosting a graduation party for our class at his family’s empty villa. For everyone else, it was the start of a new chapter. For me, in my last life, it had been the entrance to hell. The sweet, cloying voice belonged to Beth. Liam always told me I should be more like her, that even her anger sounded like a lover’s pout, irresistible to any man. I couldn’t hold my liquor, but when the campus belle offered a toast, refusing would have been a social death sentence. Unfortunately, I’d been reborn just a moment too late. I’d already downed a glass, and the world was starting to spin. So, no matter how much Beth coaxed, I refused to drink another drop. I just adjusted my glasses and pretended to be drunker than I was. I had a job to do later; I couldn’t afford to be completely wasted. Seeing my refusal, a sly look entered Beth’s eyes. She raised her own glass to the table. “If the star student won’t drink, I’ll drink the rest for her.” I lowered my head, a cold smile touching my lips. She was drinking from her own glass but claiming it was for my sake. In my past life, I’d never had an ounce of her cunning. Her words were sweeter than any song. I poured myself a glass of water and sipped it, quietly watching her performance. By now, Liam had already gotten Jaxon drunk and taken him upstairs. Liam himself had had too much and was resting in the room next to Jaxon’s. Beth’s dramatic display of drinking could only mean she had something else in mind. Soon, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were hazy. She leaned against me, her voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Thea, I drank so much for you, I’m feeling dizzy. Can you help me upstairs to rest? My life is in your hands now. You have to keep me safe, okay?” In my past life, Beth had already gotten me completely drunk. I’d only caught the last part about going upstairs to rest before she half-dragged my stumbling form up the stairs. But this time, I saw the cleverness in her words and actions. She was making it sound like it was my fault she was drunk, that it was my duty to see her safely to a room. With that one statement, she planted a seed in everyone’s mind: whatever happened to her tonight would be my fault. Her drunken, helpless state, needing me for support, only solidified her image as the innocent victim. But no one could see that, from their angle, Beth, who was taller than me, wasn’t just leaning on my shoulders. She was digging her fingers into them, her grip surprisingly strong as she steered me toward the stairs. The pain made me wince. Fine. I could play drunk too. I pretended to take off my glasses, and in that motion, I shook off her grip. Then, I went completely limp, collapsing into her arms. A head shorter than her, with a flushed, baby face, I wrapped my arms around her and whined, my voice soft and slurring, “Beth, I’m so dizzy! I can’t walk.” No one had expected this. In their eyes, Beth and I were rivals. Liam liked her, and during a game of truth or dare earlier, I had admitted that I liked him. “Oh no! The star student is really drunk,” someone exclaimed. Hidden in Beth’s embrace, I stayed silent, playing my part. Out of sight, a small smile touched my lips. My little act had startled Beth; I saw her eyes clear for a second. But she needed me to be her scapegoat tonight, so she gritted her teeth and didn’t push me away. Besides, to make her act convincing, she really had drunk a lot. She was at least eighty percent gone. I looked up at her, my hair a mess, and blinked. “Beth, let’s sleep together tonight.” 3 I had no idea what Beth was thinking, but I was serious. The only way to prevent the disaster of my past life was for her to stay with me tonight. Besides, I had lived ten years longer than this version of Beth. To me, she was just a misguided girl. Maybe something had happened to her in university that made her so desperate to land a rich boyfriend. But she wanted to maintain her good-girl image, so she’d devised this whole scheme. She wanted everyone to believe that I, jealous of Liam’s affection for her, had deliberately put her in the bad boy’s room. Her plan had been a spectacular success in my last life. The day after the party, my name became synonymous with “vicious.” Everyone blamed me, cursed me. Eventually, I started to believe it myself. I thought it was my fault, that I’d had too much to drink and taken her to the wrong room. I was the reason she’d disappeared for ten years. I was the reason Liam had lost the love of his life. So I tried to atone. I couldn’t find Beth, so I poured all my repentance onto Liam. I learned to love him, tried to warm his cold heart, begged him to stop hating me. The Liams had taken me in as a child; I owed them everything. But in the end, I was the one who had been played. Liam had been willing to throw away his entire life, to trap me in a marriage, just to keep me from interfering with Beth’s happiness. The day of the car crash, I had been on my way to tell him I’d found her. I had just learned from Jaxon where Beth had been for the past ten years. I wanted him to see her for who she really was, to stop feeling guilty for getting drunk that night and failing to protect her. But before I could say a word, we were both killed. I was so grateful for this second chance. At the dinner table, I’d been thinking about what I could do to repay this gift. I’d considered getting revenge on Beth, giving her a taste of the public shame she’d put me through. But looking at her now, so young and vibrant, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So when she’d asked me to help her to a room, I’d asked, in front of everyone, if she wanted to sleep with me. If she chose me, if she chose not to repeat her mistake, then I would let the past go. After all, this was a different timeline. I couldn’t punish this Beth for what a different version of her had done. But if she insisted on being foolish, I would respect her choice. Everyone has to take responsibility for their own actions. So, when she had me pinned between two doors, I asked her again. “It’s your decision. You can sleep here, or you can come to another room with me.” The alcohol was hitting her hard now. Her eyes were glazed over, but she shook her head, trying to stay clear. “Let me think… Oh, I can’t remember.” She tapped her head a few times. I decided to be direct. “Who do you choose? On the left is…” I was about to tell her Jaxon was on the left, Liam was on the right, and I was right beside her. But she cut me off. “I forgot who I drugged…” Her words hit me like a thunderclap. In that instant, my image of her shattered. She was like a beautiful flower, rotten from the roots up. She would stoop to such a low, despicable tactic to get what she wanted. I started to wonder if I’d been drugged too. I took a step back, putting some distance between us. I asked her again, but the answer was the same. “Either one is fine,” she said. “Doesn’t matter which.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I had to let go of my savior complex and respect her choices. I watched, my face a cold mask, as she stumbled into Liam’s room. Then I turned and opened the door to the room next door. Beth might not remember who she’d drugged, but I had the memories of my past life. The moment she said it, I knew. Tonight, I would be the one to save the poor, unsuspecting bad boy. 4 The moment I opened the door, a blast of cold air hit me. The room was a mess, water everywhere. I followed the sound of dripping and found him. The notoriously cool and arrogant Jaxon was a pathetic heap on the floor, his back against the sofa, pouring ice water over his head. His t-shirt was tossed aside, leaving him in just a pair of grey sweatpants. His head was bowed, his black hair plastered to his face, obscuring his eyes. Droplets of water traced the sharp line of his jaw, soaking a dark patch on his pants. It was a strangely mesmerizing sight. His long, slender fingers were clenched so tightly around a plastic water bottle that it crackled. When the last drop fell, he tilted his head back and, incredibly, stuck his tongue inside the bottle, licking at the remaining moisture before his full lips closed around the opening again. The Jaxon I remembered had bright red hair and an ear full of studs, a walking embodiment of rebellion. Looking at him now, his defiant face was still strikingly handsome. But his flushed skin and labored breathing told a different story. His reactions were slow. It took him a moment to realize someone had entered the room. Without looking up, he snarled, “Who let you in? Get out!” But when he turned and saw it was me, the words “don’t touch me” died on his lips. He stumbled to his feet, trying to retreat toward the mini-fridge, but his legs gave out and he collapsed back onto the floor. I grabbed a bottle of ice water, twisted it open, and handed it to him. “Jaxon, where’s your phone? I’ll call a doctor.” He chugged the water, half of it spilling down his chin and neck. Then he started fumbling at his pockets, trying to find his phone. I could see a bulge that looked like a phone, but after a minute of fruitless searching, he looked up at me, his expression bewildered, his lips moving but no sound coming out. He was taking too long. I pushed his hands away and reached into his pocket myself. The instant my fingers brushed against it, I regretted it. With my years of experience as a urologist in my past life, I knew that what I was feeling was definitely not a phone. Before I could scream, Jaxon’s ragged breathing was hot against my ear. I flinched, turning my head, and found myself looking into his flushed, feverish eyes. “I’ll… I’ll go get someone.” I scrambled to my feet, but he grabbed my arm, his hand pressing mine against the fabric of his pants. Another ragged gasp escaped his lips. The sensation seemed to jolt him back to some semblance of consciousness. “Thea,” he rasped. I stared at him, stunned. I was shocked. The name he’d been muttering this whole time… was mine. Even in this state, he recognized me. But in my past life, why had Liam mistaken me for someone else? Or was it that, in his eyes, I was just someone to be used and discarded? The thought filled me with a cold fury. I stepped forward, bent down, and tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at me. “Say it again. Who am I?” The moment my hand touched his skin, I felt the searing heat. When I tried to pull away, he caught my hand, pressing it to his cheek and rubbing against it like a cat. His gaze drifted from my lips to my eyes, finally meeting mine. “Thea,” he breathed. “Help me.”

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The moment Jessica shoved past me into the convenience store, rattling off that all-too-familiar string of numbers, I knew. She’d been reborn, too. In my previous life, just before graduation, Jessica and I both landed final interviews at the same Fortune 500 company. There was only one spot. On the day of the interview, I bought a lottery ticket on a whim. That single decision made me miss my slot. Jessica, of course, got the job. But then my ticket hit the jackpot: fifty million dollars. After graduation, I retired before I even started, living comfortably off the interest. Jessica’s dream job, on the other hand, turned into a nightmare. The pay was garbage, she was bullied relentlessly, and eventually, she took all her rage out on me. She cornered me on the roof of my penthouse and sent me plunging to my death. After I was gone, my own boyfriend, Leo, helped her cover it up. He told the police I’d become mentally unstable from having too much time on my hands and had jumped myself. The two of them built an empire on my corpse, becoming celebrity influencers with millions of followers, monetizing my tragedy and raking in a fortune. Now, I’ve opened my eyes again. I’m back on the day I bought that ticket. … “I need a lottery ticket, quick!” Jessica darted around me, rushing into the store. As she breathlessly recited the numbers etched into my memory, my suspicions were confirmed. She knew. With the ticket clutched in her hand, Jessica turned, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “Sorry, Sophie. I bought this one.” I shrugged, a perfect mask of indifference. “I wasn’t planning on buying one anyway.” She didn’t believe me for a second. With a cold snort, she tucked the ticket safely into her purse. “How could you not? This ticket is the reason…” She stopped herself, catching the words before they spilled out. I knew exactly what she was about to say. In our last life, this ticket was the reason I missed the bus, the reason I was late for the interview. The reason she landed that coveted offer from a Fortune 500 company. But it was also the ticket that won me fifty million dollars. While she slaved away at her new job, I was at home, living a life of leisure. Her life at the company spiraled—low pay, constant harassment, utter misery. And in a fit of bitter jealousy, she had murdered me. Jessica’s eyes glinted with smug satisfaction. “You know what? I don’t think I’ll go to the interview. Since you love being a corporate drone so much, the spot is all yours.” I just nodded. Fine by me. The fifty-million-dollar ‘jackpot’ is all yours, too. Without a moment’s hesitation, I turned, boarded the bus, and headed for my interview. That evening, when I got back to the dorm, I found Leo with his arm wrapped possessively around Jessica’s shoulder. I’d been so blind in my last life. Only in death did I realize they’d been plotting behind my back all along. Seeing me, they didn’t even flinch. Their faces were masks of pure provocation. Leo’s expression soured into one of disgust as he looked at me. “Sophie, the person I really love is Jessica. I was only with you for those two rundown apartments your family owns.” He pulled Jessica closer. “But things are different now. My Jessie just won fifty million dollars. We’re rich. I don’t have to compromise for money anymore. I don’t have to stomach being with someone as gross as you.” My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. So that’s how it was. Jessica and Leo both came from small, rural towns with nothing to their names. One was my best friend, the other my boyfriend. I’d never been stingy with them, always happy to share what I had. Only now did it click. They weren’t my friends; they were leeches, sucking me dry. If fate has given me a second chance, I’ll make you pay back every drop of blood you took from me—a thousand times over. Jessica let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Sophie, I used to let you have things because your family was a tiny bit better off than mine. But now? I’ve won fifty million. I’m financially free. How could you possibly compete with me?” She gestured dismissively at me. “You’re destined to be a miserable wage slave for the rest of your life. But Leo and I,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “we’re about to travel the world. A life you can only dream of.” They packed their bags and moved out of the dorm right then and there. As I watched their retreating backs, a cold smile touched my lips. Fools. Did you really think a windfall like that would ever fall into your laps? My interview had been a success. I nailed every question and secured the offer from the Fortune 500 company—the absolute pinnacle for someone with my degree. The office was far from my parents’ house, so after talking it over with them, I decided to buy a condo nearby. I was at the sales gallery for a new high-rise, looking at a few units with an agent, when a familiar, brash voice cut through the quiet atmosphere. “Someone get over here! Show us the best places you’ve got!” I turned to see Leo, his arm slung around Jessica, swaggering in like he owned the place. When they spotted me, they made a beeline in my direction, their faces twisted in derision. “Sophie, what are you doing here, playing pretend?” Leo sneered. “You can’t afford a place like this.” “I’ve already checked,” Jessica added, chiming in. “Even if you sold both of those little shoebox apartments your family owns, you wouldn’t have enough for a down payment in the city center.” At their words, the sales agent, who had been bubbling with enthusiasm just moments before, visibly cooled. I fired back, “I can’t afford it? And you can?” Jessica threw her head back, her chin held high. “Of course. I won fifty million. I could buy several of these in cash.” The agent’s eyes lit up, and she immediately gravitated towards them. “Ma’am, how can I help you?” Jessica pointed a perfectly manicured finger at a model of the penthouse suite. “That one looks… acceptable.” The agent beamed. “An excellent choice, ma’am! That unit has the best location and the most breathtaking views in the entire building. For someone like you, the price is certainly no issue. It’s a mere two million dollars.” “Two million!?” Leo and Jessica froze, their jaws dropping in unison. They hadn’t imagined a 1,000-square-foot apartment in the city could be so outrageously expensive. “Of course, if that feels a bit steep, you could always finance it,” the agent offered smoothly. Jessica’s face flushed with embarrassment. She stiffened her neck and snapped, “Finance? I won fifty million. I’m paying in cash, obviously.” The agent’s smile returned, wider than before. “Of course! If you’d like to secure the unit, you can put down a hundred-thousand-dollar deposit now. If the lottery winnings haven’t cleared yet, we can help you arrange a short-term bridge loan from the bank.” Leo and Jessica exchanged a hesitant glance. I chose that moment to cut in, my voice laced with impatience. “I’m starting to doubt you even won anything. Are you two just here to waste everyone’s time? If you can’t afford it, stop holding things up and get out.” My words hit their mark. Leo’s face turned crimson with rage. “Shut your mouth! Jessie won fifty million, I swear! The money just hasn’t come through yet.” I waved a dismissive hand at them. “Whatever. Just get out of the way. I’ll take this unit.” That sent them into a panic. Jessica, biting her lip, blurted out, “I want it! I’ll get a loan from the bank for the deposit right now!” For the next few days, Jessica and Leo’s social media was a non-stop parade of their world travels. Every photo was a carefully curated tableau of luxury brands and five-star resorts. It was clear that on top of the mortgage, they had taken out a mountain of other loans. Let them fly high. The fall will be that much greater. They even sent me a flood of pictures directly, which I promptly ignored before blocking both of them. I spent those days buried in work. A Fortune 500 company was no joke. I hadn’t even officially started, but my team lead had already sent over piles of material for me to get up to speed on. Then came the day of our graduation party. Jessica, as the class president, sent a message to the group chat. 【Everyone, please be at the designated restaurant by 11:30 AM sharp for the graduation party.】 After sending it, she specifically tagged me. 【@Sophie, you have to be there.】 I replied immediately: 【Okay.】 A few people grumbled in the chat, asking why she’d chosen a restaurant so far from campus. But I knew why. The restaurant was right next door to that fateful convenience store. At 11:30, with all the students and professors assembled, Jessica finally made her grand entrance, arm-in-arm with Leo. The entire room fell silent. They were transformed, dripping from head to toe in an aura of extravagant wealth. Jessica handed out a small, sought-after designer toy to every single classmate. “Everyone,” she announced, her voice ringing with authority, “order whatever you want today. It’s all on me!” Most of our classmates just stared, as if watching a pair of clowns. Some even whispered that the toys she’d given out were probably fakes. Unfazed, Jessica pulled the lottery ticket from her purse and waved it in the air for all to see. “I won the fifty-million-dollar grand prize.” The announcement hit the room like a bomb. “Fifty million!” “Did I hear that right? Jessica is that lucky?” “Oh my god, I’ll never make that much in my entire life.” As if that wasn’t enough, she had a massive banner hung across the restaurant wall. 【CELEBRATING JESSICA’S $50 MILLION LOTTERY WIN!】 One of the professors, looking skeptical, asked, “The drawing hasn’t even happened yet, but you have the ticket. So where did all this money come from?” Jessica waved a dismissive hand. “The money will be in my account soon enough. I’m just enjoying it a little early.” Someone in the crowd muttered, loud enough for others to hear, “Wait, wasn’t Leo dating Sophie? How did he end up with Jessica?” Faced with a sea of questioning eyes, Leo remained utterly shameless. He squeezed Jessica’s hand and addressed the room. “Everyone knows you climb the ladder of success, right? It’s only natural.” He gestured toward me with contempt. “After graduation, Sophie is just going to be another cog in the machine, a miserable little wage slave. But Jessie… Jessie is different. Besides,” he added with a shrug, “my true love was always Jessie.” His speech left many of our classmates speechless. One girl finally stood up for me. “But Sophie got an offer from a Fortune 500 company. That’s the best offer anyone in our class got.” Jessica burst out laughing, tears welling in her eyes. “The best offer? So what? Will she ever make fifty million in her entire lifetime? In today’s world, what does a good job even mean? It just means you’re a well-dressed slave in a fancy cage, treated worse than an animal!” She then turned her venomous gaze on me. “Sophie, you’re not even worthy of shining my shoes. But if you serve me well, maybe I’ll be merciful and toss you a few scraps.” Her words made others blush with shame and anger, but no one dared to argue. Some of the more opportunistic students were already starting to suck up to her. “Jess, I always knew you were destined for great things! I just never imagined your luck would be this incredible!” “Yeah, don’t forget about us when you’re on top!” “Exactly! Give your old classmates a hand up!” They knew her words were vile, but they couldn’t deny the truth in them. No matter how good a job they landed, earning fifty million dollars was a pipe dream. The mood shifted, and soon others were piling on. “Jessica’s right. So what if Sophie got a fancy job? She’ll just be working herself to death for someone else. She can’t compare to Jessica.” I just smiled faintly. The truth was, the company’s benefits and culture were excellent. The only reason Jessica had crashed and burned in her past life was because she’d tried to seduce her boss the moment she walked in the door, making herself an office pariah and a target for everyone’s scorn. Finally, the meal ended, and it was time for the main event. Jessica touched up her makeup, smoothed down her designer dress, and stepped onto the small stage at the front of the restaurant. At the same moment, a dozen influencers suddenly swarmed in, cameras and ring lights at the ready. She gave them a subtle nod. It was all planned. Jessica held up the lottery ticket again. She leaned into a microphone, her voice broadcasting to thousands of viewers online. “To all my followers, I’ve just graduated from college, and I’ve already won a fifty-million-dollar lottery. From now on, I am financially free. I can travel the world while the rest of you pathetic drones slave away at your miserable jobs.” Her voice dripped with malice. “You’ll get pennies for pay, you’ll be trampled on by your superiors, stripped of your dignity, and you’ll stare down a long, bleak road to a meaningless end.” She shot a pointed look in my direction. The live chat exploded with angry comments, but Jessica ignored them completely. She pointed a finger at me, her tone imperious. “Sophie, the store where I bought this is right next door. Go get the owner. Tell him to come here and verify my ticket, live.” I didn’t move. Leo stepped forward, his face a mask of annoyance. “Sophie, are you fucking deaf? What are you waiting for? Jessie is honoring you by even asking. At your level, you’re not even fit to carry her shoes. You should be grateful she’s giving you a task. Serve her well, and maybe she’ll throw you a bone.” A few classmates couldn’t stand it anymore, whispering behind their hands. “This is disgusting. A sudden fortune, and she acts like this? She won’t hold onto it for long.” “She was supposed to be Sophie’s best friend, then she steals her boyfriend and has the nerve to order her around? Who does she think she is?” When I still didn’t budge, Jessica’s voice turned threatening. “Sophie, I suggest you wake up. Given the gap between us now, I could crush you with a single word.” I just glanced at my watch. “Let’s wait five more minutes.” Jessica looked confused, unsure what game I was playing. She scoffed. “Fine. We’ll wait five minutes. But let me tell you, Sophie, even if we wait fifty minutes, it won’t change the fact that I’ve won fifty million dollars.” A cold smile played on my lips. Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Her words had barely faded when a woman burst through the restaurant doors. She stormed toward the stage, screaming at Jessica. “Are you out of your mind, you little brat? That lottery ticket is mine!”

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The night before I found out I was the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family, my adoptive mother crept into my room with a kitchen cleaver, ready to end my life. Too bad for her, I wasn’t in my bed. I was under it. When I first arrived at the Ashton estate, the entire family looked like they’d seen a ghost. Which made sense. They had just received news that the car sent to pick me up had exploded. The fake heiress, their darling Olivia, asked me with a gentle, honey-sweet voice, “Sophie, why weren’t you in the car?” I answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Why would I ever get into a car with a stranger?” “A stranger could kill me. A car could kill me.” I scanned the opulent room and the stunned faces before me. “And for the record, I’m still convinced you all want to kill me, too.” Later, my mother, Eleanor, thinking I was being overly cautious, personally ladled a bowl of soup for me. I smiled, then produced a silver needle and dipped it into the broth. The needle turned black. Eleanor stopped smiling. 1 When I walked into the Ashton family’s grand living room, everyone’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. My birth mother, Eleanor, was a mess of tears and snot, wailing about how tragic my fate was. Seeing their state, I cleared my throat. The butler had led me in, and I stood before them, my worn-out backpack and duffel bags a stark contrast to the marble floors. “Hello,” I said. “I’m Sophie.” The three of them—my mother, my father, and their son—just stared, frozen. After all, not ten minutes earlier, they had received confirmation of my death. The car sent to retrieve me had exploded en route. There were no survivors. It was the fake daughter, Olivia, who recovered first. Her voice was as soft as silk. “Sophie, why weren’t you in the car?” I gave a slight shrug. “Why would I get into a car with a stranger?” I said flatly. “Strangers are dangerous. What if he decided to pull out a knife and gut me? And cars are dangerous. What if we got into an accident? A stranger and a car? I can think of at least a hundred ways to die.” I let my gaze drift over each of them, my expression blank. “Of course,” I added, “I’m still convinced you people want to hurt me, too.” My parents, Richard and Eleanor, exchanged a look, utterly lost for words. My brother, Ethan, stepped forward. “What are you talking about? You’re our family. Why would we want to hurt you?” “Is that so? Good,” I replied, my eyes already mapping the layout of the mansion, plotting fire escape routes. The rooms were too big, with too many places for someone to hide. The house was crawling with butlers and maids; keeping a safe distance would be a chore. Eleanor must have noticed the tension in my posture. She spoke in a soft, soothing tone. “Don’t worry, Sophie. You’re home now. We won’t let you suffer anymore.” As she spoke, she reached out, intending to stroke my hair. Her hand was halfway to my head when I instinctively recoiled, putting a good ten feet between us. From this distance, if she lunged, I’d have a head start. Eleanor froze, awkwardly retracting her hand. “It’s alright,” she said, her smile a little strained. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.” I just stared at her, saying nothing. Ethan couldn’t hold back his frustration. “Sophie, Mom is just trying to be nice to you! She’s not going to attack you.” Olivia seized the opportunity, her voice dripping with manufactured concern. “Sophie… don’t you want to be here with us?” “That’s right,” I said, my directness wiping the sweet expression right off her face. “I don’t. I never wanted to come back.” “What… what do you mean?” she stammered. I smirked and pointed a finger at her. “What do I mean? I mean, you can thank your precious birth mother for that.” I let the words hang in the air. “Last night, she came at me with a kitchen cleaver. If I hadn’t already been hiding under the bed, I’d be dead right now.” A dead silence fell over the room. I turned my gaze to my biological parents. “As for why I came here,” I continued, “it’s because you’re civilized people. I assume your methods of murder will be a little more… sophisticated. Physical attacks test my reflexes, and frankly, I’m too malnourished to outrun anyone.” 2 Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? Olivia’s birth mother is your adoptive mother. Why would she try to kill you?” Olivia’s face went pale, and her voice cracked. “Yes, Sophie, how could you say that about Mom? She raised you for over a decade.” Watching their little performance, I reached into my backpack, pulled out the official police report receipt, and tossed it onto the mahogany coffee table. Then I took out my phone and played a video. On the screen, a middle-aged woman hacked at an empty bed with a cleaver, striking it over and over again. When she realized no one was there, she began frantically searching the room. The next clip was shaky footage of her chasing me down the street, cleaver in hand, for block after block. When the video ended, Eleanor’s eyes were welling up again, but this time, she kept her distance. My father, Richard, just frowned, lost in thought. Olivia sat on the sofa, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “Is that… real? Not from a movie?” Ethan exclaimed. “It’s real,” I said calmly. “So, if you two are feeling charitable, could you get me a lawyer?” Richard finally spoke, his voice raspy. “Yes. I’ll hire the best. Is there anything else you need?” I thought for a moment. “I want you to let me stay here, safely, until I finish my final exams.” “Done,” he said without hesitation. “And rest assured, we will protect you. You are our daughter. You can ask for anything.” I put my phone away, my voice devoid of emotion. “That won’t be necessary. I have no expectations of you.” Eleanor’s lips parted as if to say something, but she just offered me a gentle, sad smile instead. Ethan looked like he was about to argue, but a sharp glance from his father silenced him. Richard changed the subject, suggesting he show me to my room. When we got there, Eleanor looked at me expectantly. “Sophie, I had a designer decorate this room just for you, based on what we thought you might like. It has great light and a small balcony. What do you think?” I ignored her and the view she was pointing to. The moment the door opened, I started methodically searching the entire space. The smile on Eleanor’s face froze. “Sophie, what are you looking for?” “Just checking to see if anyone’s tampered with anything.” “Sophie, are you insane?” Ethan had followed us in and was now scowling as he watched me take apart an electrical socket. “This is our home! Who would bother trying to harm you here?!” I ignored him, continuing my sweep, checking every corner, every fixture. Ethan kept muttering under his breath until I placed the three pinhole cameras I’d found on the pristine white bedspread. He fell silent, his eyes wide with shock. “What… what are those?” “Cameras.” Eleanor’s face paled. “That’s impossible,” she stammered. “How could there be cameras in here?” “Can I have a different room?” I asked, looking around at the overly lavish decor, wondering what else was hidden within the walls. Richard arrived a moment later. He took one look at the cameras, didn’t ask a single question, and told me to pick any room I wanted. I did a full circuit of the mansion and chose a modest room on the ground floor, right next to the main entrance. 3 After I’d settled in, the butler called me for dinner. I grabbed my backpack and went to the dining room. Olivia smiled sweetly as I approached. “Sophie, you’re finally here.” I didn’t answer. First, I walked a full circle around the massive dining table. I checked my chair for any strange liquids and glanced up to ensure there were no precariously hanging chandeliers directly overhead. Only then did I sit, placing my backpack on my lap where I could easily reach inside. Eleanor offered me a bowl of rice. I shook my head and pulled two cans of beef stew and a vacuum-sealed sausage from my bag. “No, thank you. I brought my own.” A troubled look crossed her face. “You don’t like rice?” “It’s not that. This just feels safer.” I inspected the seals on the cans before popping one open. Canned food was infinitely more trustworthy than anything on this table. Eleanor leaned closer, her eyes filled with concern. “But you’re a growing girl. You can’t live on canned food.” “Unhealthy is better than dead,” I said without looking up, scooping a spoonful of stew into my mouth. Ethan slammed his chopsticks down. “Sophie, don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” he snapped. “The staff prepared this food. What could possibly be wrong with it? You’re acting like a cornered animal. Isn’t it exhausting?” I ignored him and continued eating my stew. Eleanor, her heart clearly aching for me, personally ladled a bowl of chicken soup. “Sophie, I made this myself. Just have one sip, please? I promise, there’s nothing in it.” I stared at the bowl for a two full seconds, then reached into my backpack and pulled out a long, thin silver needle. Pinching the end, I slowly dipped the tip into the soup. “Sophie, what are you doing?” Olivia put her chopsticks down, her eyes fixed on me. “Surely you don’t think your own mother would poison you?” Ethan was about to chime in, but before he could, the tip of the silver needle turned a deep, unmistakable black. Eleanor stared, her eyes wide with disbelief. Before I could speak, Richard said soothingly, “Silver needles aren’t always accurate. The soup might just contain some natural sulfides.” Eleanor nodded eagerly. “That’s right, Sophie! It’s probably just a mistake.” “We’ll see if it’s a mistake,” I said, cutting her off. I reached deep into my backpack and pulled out a small, palm-sized wire cage. Cowering inside was a small gray mouse I had caught specifically for this purpose. I’d been keeping it in my bag for poison testing. “Where did you get a mouse?!” Ethan shot up from his chair, his face contorted in disgust. “Sophie, have you lost your mind? You brought a rodent into the house!” I ignored him, used a small spoon to scoop up a bit of the chicken soup, and offered it to the mouse through the bars of the cage. The mouse crept forward, licked the spoon twice, and then, a few seconds later, it began to twitch violently before falling over, stiff as a board. 4 The air at the table froze solid. Eleanor’s face went chalk-white, her lips trembling too much to form words. Olivia, sitting beside her, showed a brief flash of panic before her expression returned to normal. “Dad, Mom… maybe the mouse was already sick.” Ethan, staring at the dead rodent, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, maybe Sophie is just trying to scare us.” I looked up at my brother and gave him a pitying smile. Then, I reached back into my bag and pulled out another, perfectly healthy, wriggling mouse. “You have another one?” Ethan stared at my backpack as if it were a portal to another dimension. I picked up the spoon and offered another taste of the soup. Soon, there was a second dead mouse on the table, its demise as swift and silent as the first. This time, nobody said a word. Richard’s face was like thunder. He ordered the butler to clear the table and throw everything out. I went back to my canned stew, silently contemplating the fact that this pristine mansion was probably devoid of wild mice for me to catch. Maybe I’d have to start breeding my own. They seemed easy enough to raise. Later that afternoon, I was hungry again. I took out a self-heating pack to boil water for some instant noodles. Ethan walked in and scoffed at the sight. “Are you serious, Sophie? There’s a gas stove and an electric kettle right there, and you’re using that little contraption to cook?” He shook his head. “So inefficient.” “It’s safe,” I said without turning around, sprinkling the seasoning packet over the dry noodles. “Safe my ass. I think you just don’t know how to use a real kitchen, so you’re putting on a show.” He came over and snatched the self-heating container from my hands, placing it on the counter. “The noodles that thing makes are barely edible. Just wait. I’ll make you a proper bowl. It’ll take ten minutes and taste a hundred times better.” “I don’t need you to,” I said, reaching for the container, but he pulled it away. He raised an eyebrow, full of misplaced confidence. “I’m your brother. You think I’m going to hurt you?” I frowned, looking at him seriously. “I just don’t think the kitchen is safe. What if someone tampered with the gas line? What if it explodes?” “You think way too much. I bet the soup thing was just a weird fluke. I had two bowls of it at lunch and I’m fine.” He turned and headed for the kitchen. As I watched him go, alarm bells screamed in my head. I quickly backed away to a safe distance. “Will you stop it already?” he said, glancing back and rolling his eyes at me. “I’m just making instant noodles. Wait right there.” I watched him walk into the kitchen. A second later, there was a deafening BOOM. By the time the butler and my parents came running, black smoke was already billowing out of the kitchen doorway. The ambulance arrived quickly. As they loaded Ethan onto a stretcher, he looked over at me, his face smudged with soot, and mumbled, “It must have been… an accident. When I get back… I’ll make you those noodles…” I watched the ambulance drive away, then quietly went back to making my noodles with the self-heating pack.

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After the redemption story ended, my husband grew tired of me. We’d been married for eight years, the kind of couple everyone else pointed to as proof that true love existed. The model pair. But then, the story’s leading lady came home. That’s when he started to drift. I’d catch him staring into the middle distance, lost in a world that didn’t include me. He started coming home late, his clothes carrying the faint, sweet ghost of a perfume I didn’t own. The third time I found them together, their bodies angled toward each other in a way that was more than just conversation, I looked at him, my heart a placid lake on the surface and a maelstrom underneath. “Let’s get a divorce.” As we walked out of the city clerk’s office, the papers signed and filed, he spoke in a low voice, “You can’t go back, you know. I’ll give you a generous settlement… we can still be friends.” “No, thank you,” I said, not looking at him. “This is goodbye.” 1 I came into this world for one reason: to save the beautifully broken man who was destined to be the tragic second lead. My mission was to redeem Ethan Thorne. I arrived in his life long before the story’s true heroine, Claire, ever could. I was there through the brutal boarding school years, a constant presence, the one who smoothed his jagged edges and fought his demons alongside him. When his father, in a drunken rage, took a belt to him, I was the one who threw myself over his bleeding back, shielding him. I was the one who stitched him up in my tiny apartment, my hands shaking but steady. To break through the fortress of paranoia he’d built around his heart, I told him the absolute truth. “I am here for you. My only purpose in this world is you.” When my mission was officially complete, when he was healed and whole, he begged me to stay. On his knees, he pleaded. So I stayed. We got married. The turbulence of his past gave way to the quiet, steady rhythm of domestic life. The endless, mundane, beautiful trivialities of a shared existence. And he started to resent me for it. “You know,” he said one evening, sprawled on the sofa, the words tossed off like a joke, “if I’d known you were a lifer, maybe I wouldn’t have rushed into marriage. Could have played the field a couple more years.” He must have seen the flicker of pain on my face because he immediately sat up, his playful demeanor vanishing. He reached for me, his grip tight, almost desperate. “Ava. That’s not what I meant. You know what you mean to me. You know it.” I didn’t answer. My heart felt like it had been dropped into a vat of acid, the burn of it sharp and suffocating. “Goodnight,” I murmured, pulling away. “I’m a little tired.” I walked into our bedroom, closed the door softly behind me, and burrowed under the covers. Only then, in the silent dark, did I let myself cry. 2 “You’ve got all these gorgeous young things throwing themselves at you. You could have a little fun on the side. I mean, your wife’s not getting any younger, man.” “Don’t talk like that again. Ava… she’s amazing. It’s just…” Ethan was in his study with a friend, their voices low and relaxed, joking the way men do when they think no one is listening. I stood outside the door, a tray of sliced fruit in my hands, my feet cemented to the floor. I had once analyzed Ethan’s psyche with the precision of a surgeon. His childhood was a black hole of cold, oppressive darkness, and it had left him with a voracious appetite for the extreme. He craved the jagged peaks of emotion, not the comfortable plateau of contentment. This was a man who would kneel in a torrential downpour all night just to beg the woman he loved not to leave. This was a man who once scaled the outside of a six-story building to close a deal because the elevator was broken. His entire being was wired for risk, for the thrill of the chase. And the life I had built for us—our peaceful, stable, loving life—was beginning to bore him to death. He was just waiting for the right excuse to shatter the beautiful, fragile thing we had created. 3 I came home from work to find the table set for one. Our housekeeper was plating the salmon. I looked at the empty chair across from me. “Ethan’s not coming home for dinner?” “Mr. Thorne called. He said he has a business dinner. A late one.” I nodded, not saying a word. I ate my meal in silence, the cavernous quiet of the dining room amplifying the sound of my fork against the plate. Later, lying in our king-sized bed, sleep was a distant country I couldn’t reach. The “business dinners” were becoming more frequent. The alien scent of that perfume on his blazers was becoming more pronounced. It was sharp and cloying, an olfactory insult. I watched the numbers on the clock glow in the dark, marking time, each minute an eternity. It felt like a century had passed before I heard the soft beep of the keypad at the front door. I sat up, ready to go out to the living room, to feign sleepiness and ask him how his night was. But then I heard his voice, soft and low. “Claire, this is as far as you should go. You’ve had a bit too much to drink. I’ll have my driver take you home.” And then her voice, laced with a fragile, almost tearful joy. “Ethan… I can’t believe you never deleted my fingerprint.” A pause. A heavy, loaded silence. “I was just trying it… on a whim. I didn’t think it would actually work… I’m sorry.” I slumped against our bedroom door, the wood cold against my back. The words were a physical blow, a tidal wave crashing over me, leaving me breathless and drowning. Silence stretched for a few minutes outside. Then, Ethan spoke again, his tone carefully neutral. “You should go. It’s very late.” “Ethan, please,” Claire’s voice was broken, expertly so. It was a sound engineered for sympathy. “I’m so scared. Every time it gets dark, I just… I remember all of it. The bad things. Can I please just stay here for one night? Just one.” She let out a small, wounded sound. “You used to promise you’d always keep a room for me in your home. Is that… is that still true?” Anyone would have felt a pang of pity hearing her. Especially a man like Ethan, his senses softened by alcohol. He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was thick. “I’m married, Claire.” It was a standoff. I could feel the tension through the door. Then came the sound of quiet weeping, growing steadily louder. It was a masterful performance. Ethan let out a heavy sigh. “Keep your voice down. You’ll wake Ava… That room… yes, I kept it for you.” “Oh, thank you… thank you, Ethan.” The undisguised happiness in her voice sent a fresh wave of bitterness through me. I remembered when we were designing this house. I’d asked him why the guest room was the exact same size as the master suite. He’d given me a plausible, loving explanation about wanting our parents or our closest friends to be comfortable when they visited. He had lied. So easily. Tears I didn’t know I had left began to slide, hot and silent, down my cheeks. Outside, the man I had saved was delivering the final, devastating blow. “Go on up,” I heard him say. “Ava doesn’t usually get up until eight. I’ll wake you at six. You’ll be gone before she’s even awake. You two won’t run into each other.”

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At sixteen, my world was the size of a cornfield in Pennsylvania. My future was supposed to be a straight line from shucking corn to a quiet, early grave. Then he showed up. He pulled up in a vintage Porsche, the engine a low growl that scared the crows. A city boy, all sharp angles and restless energy, lighting a cigarette with a hand that trembled with rage. He was on the phone, shouting at his girlfriend. “Are you serious? You’re really ending it?” Her voice, tinny and cruel even through the speaker, shot back. “Dead serious. I was only with you to get to your brother, you idiot. Did you really think anyone could ever love you?” He kicked the gravel, a cloud of dust rising around his expensive loafers. His eyes, wild and hurt, scanned the fields and landed on me. He beckoned with a sharp flick of his wrist. He was making a bet with the universe, and I was his chip. “Hey. You,” he called out, his voice laced with a bitter, reckless challenge. “I’ll pay for your school. I’ll buy you clothes, a car, a life. You’ll never have to worry about money again. All you have to do is love me. How about it?” I didn’t hesitate. “Okay.” That was seven years ago. A lifetime ago. Now, he was asking me for something else. “I need you to go after my brother,” he said. “Make him fall for you. It’s the only way Chloe will finally give up and come back to me.” 1 I didn’t say yes right away. In seven years, I had been completely remade. Leo Fordham had kept his promise. He had molded me, polished me. He paid for my education, hired tutors, funded any class or hobby my heart desired. He was a master sculptor, and I was his clay. When I graduated last year, he bought me a penthouse apartment and a new Mercedes. I remember learning to drive that summer, the city air thick and hot. He sat in the passenger seat day after day, endlessly patient, never once complaining as I lurched through traffic. No one calls me a farm girl anymore. They whisper that I’m the girl the younger Fordham heir keeps tucked away in his pocket. His charity case. His Pygmalion project. His, for all intents and purposes, future wife. After all, he had spent seven years cultivating a single flower. Now that it was in full, brilliant bloom, who would believe he’d ever let someone else pick it? But no one had counted on Chloe Astor coming back. She had left for London shortly after their breakup, cutting ties with everyone. Last month, she returned, armed with a new degree and an old obsession. The first thing she did was confess her love to Alex Fordham, Leo’s older brother. He turned her down, of course. Chloe’s infatuation with Alex had always been a ghost in their relationship, a secret no one spoke of. After his rejection, with nowhere else to turn, she called the one person she knew would answer. She called Leo. “Leo,” she’d sobbed into the phone. “I’m back.” That one sentence was all it took to unravel him. She called him again and again, every time Alex’s silence cut her a little deeper. And every time, Leo was the one who went to her, the one who patched her back together. He was caught in a terrible trap—aching for her, furious with her. How could she not see him? He had offered her his entire world, but her eyes were still fixed on his cold, distant brother. I never thought he’d resort to a scheme this desperate. From what I knew of Alex Fordham, he was a man carved from ice. He wasn’t the type to fall for any woman, let alone one sent by his brother. But Leo was persistent. He started pleading with me daily. Flowers arrived at my office, followed by Celine boxes and Cartier bags. Money flowed toward me like a river, a desperate, glittering tide. My colleagues noticed. “He’s definitely trying to propose,” my friend Maya said, admiring a bouquet of roses so large it barely fit on my desk. “The way he looks at you… it’s not just a friendship. He’s rich, he’s crazy about you. Just say yes, Ava. And make sure we’re invited to the wedding.” I managed a weak smile, saying nothing. Yes, he was so good to me. It was a debt I could never repay. My phone buzzed. It was him. “Get the flowers?” His voice had that familiar, careless charm. “You like them?” “I did,” I said. He sighed, a rare note of defeat in his voice. “Look, I’ve been thinking… if you really don’t want to do this, I won’t force you. I’ll figure something else…” “I’ll do it.” The line went silent. Then, “What?” “The plan. With your brother. I’ll do it.” He was quiet for a long moment before a relieved laugh burst from him. “Okay. Great. Just… give it a shot. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. I’ll still take care of you forever, you know that.” He paused, then added, as if trying to convince himself, “My parents have thrown a hundred girls at Alex over the years, maybe more. He hasn’t looked twice at any of them… but you’re different. He’s always been… I don’t know, nicer to you.” “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice,” he finished softly. I watched the moon hang pale and distant in the city sky. After a long moment, I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Okay.” I heard the distinct flick and crackle of a lighter. He was smoking again. He said my name, his voice muffled by the smoke. “Ava.” “Yes?” “I never asked you.” “Asked me what?” “Is there anyone you like? Anyone you’re… in love with?” My gaze fell to the crimson roses on my desk, their petals impossibly perfect. I’d heard he used to fly in flowers for Chloe from halfway across the world, each stem costing more than a month’s rent for a normal person. My lips felt dry. “No,” I lied. “That’s not important.” “It is,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “If there’s someone else, I can’t ask you to do this. I won’t ruin your life.” I pressed my fingers against the cool glass of my office window. “There’s no one.” 2 I lied to Leo. I was in love with him. I had been since that first day in the cornfield. But for all these years, his heart has only ever held a space for Chloe. A few days later, Leo threw a welcome home party for her at an exclusive downtown club. I received an invitation, a thick card with my name in elegant script. He told me Chloe had insisted on meeting me. “The girl from the cornfield? You actually brought her back with you, Leo?” she’d apparently said, laughing. “She was so… scrawny. All elbows and dirt. I thought you were joking. I’m dying to see what she looks like now.” I had a prior engagement and declined. Leo’s texts started flooding in. One after another, until the final one. [Alex will be there. You haven’t forgotten your promise, have you?] Reading the words, a familiar weight settled in my chest, heavy and suffocating. His request had been phrased as a choice, but it was never a choice at all. To refuse would be to prove I was ungrateful. A parasite. I couldn’t let him think that. When I arrived, they were all crowded around a poker table. The moment I walked in, the easy chatter died. A few people who used to greet me with warm hugs and call me “Miss Sheng” suddenly found the ceiling fascinating. Before, they’d fawned over me for Leo’s sake. Now, it was clear to everyone that the tide had turned. I was no longer the heir apparent to the Fordham fortune. I approached the table. Chloe was the only one winning, a smug little smile playing on her lips. Leo was a shark at cards, but tonight, I could see him folding good hands, letting her win. After a few minutes, Chloe finally looked up and saw me. Her eyes widened in performative shock. “Wow,” she breathed, covering her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand. “You look… so different. I remember you being so…” She trailed off with a dismissive little tsk, then pushed her chair back. “Here, you play. I’m tired.” She stood, immediately pulling out her phone. I was close enough to see the name on the screen: Alex Fordham. It was a one-sided conversation, a long stream of her messages met with absolute silence. I took her seat. The moment I sat down, Leo’s expression hardened. He picked up his cards with a new, aggressive impatience. The stakes were high, and no one was going easy on me. Within an hour, I was down over ten thousand dollars. 3 Chloe, who had been watching from the sidelines, spoke up, her voice dripping with faux concern. “Oh, my God, you guys. Why are you letting her lose so much? Where is she going to get that kind of money? Can she even afford this?” Nate, Leo’s best friend, threw his cards down on the table. He looked at me, his eyes cool and indifferent. “What’s the big deal? Leo will cover it.” He wasn’t wrong. That’s how it had always been. Chloe’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Really?” Leo grunted in affirmation, already pulling his phone out to make the transfer. But I spoke first. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.” Leo’s head snapped up, his eyes dark. “Ava, don’t be stupid.” “It’s fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “I can’t rely on you forever.” Over the years, with the resources Leo provided, I’d learned how to make my own money. I was a good investor. I had savings. I even had a separate bank account he knew nothing about, where I deposited money every month—a fund I’d started with the intention of one day paying him back. Pulling out my phone, I transferred the money to each of them. Leo’s winnings were the largest. He stared at the transaction notification on his screen for a long time, his jaw tight. Finally, he hit ‘accept’ with a sharp tap. “Well, look at you, Ava Sheng. All grown up.” A little while later, I excused myself to go to the restroom. On my way back, I heard their voices from a secluded balcony down the hall. Leo and Chloe. Arguing. “You said Alex was coming! Where is he?” “Something came up. What, are you still obsessed? You’ve been chasing him for months, has he even sent you a single text?” “So what? It’s my choice!” Chloe’s voice sharpened. “And why do you still have her around? That… Ava girl. Why are you still paying for her life?” I heard Leo shift his weight. “Are you jealous?” “No! I just can’t stand women like that. Freeloaders. Living off someone else’s money like a leech. God knows how much of your money she’s spent over the years.” A pause. Then Leo’s voice, low and rough. “It was a bet, remember? I did it to piss you off. If you’d just give up on my brother and come back to me, I’d cut Ava off tomorrow. I’d never speak to her again.” The dim hallway lights blurred. I stood frozen in the shadows, my heart turning to a block of ice in my chest. I didn’t wait to hear more. I turned and walked in the opposite direction, breathing in the stale, conditioned air until the burning in my lungs subsided. When I finally returned to the private room, it was empty. I walked out of the club and into a torrential downpour. Nate was just leaving, propping up a drunk girlfriend. He’d been sick in the bathroom. He saw me and blinked. “You’re still here? Oh, right. Leo left to take Chloe home.” He looked out at the sheets of rain. “Damn. This is bad. And this place is in the middle of nowhere. I’m heading in the opposite direction, or I’d give you a lift…” He hesitated. “I can call Leo, tell him to circle back for you?” I shook my head. “Don’t bother.” Nate just sighed, giving me a sympathetic look before bundling his date into his car and speeding off. I hated myself for not driving. I pulled out my phone, trying to get an Uber, but no cars were available. I checked the map. There was a bus stop about a mile away. It was my only option. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out from under the awning and into the deluge. I hadn’t made it more than a few feet when an umbrella suddenly appeared over my head, shielding me from the rain. Then, a low, calm voice spoke from behind me. A voice that was exactly as the world described it: cold, steady, and devoid of warmth. “Ava.” 4 That night, it was Alex Fordham who drove me home. The rain hammered against the roof of his car, a relentless, deafening rhythm. Halfway there, his phone rang. He answered it, the caller ID glowing with his brother’s name. The connection was clear. I could hear every word Leo said. “Hey, man. We all took off. Don’t bother coming to the club if you’re done with your meeting.” Alex’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t mention that he had already been there, that he had seen the empty room. “You said it was urgent. You ran off before I even got there. What was so important?” “Ah, it was Chloe. You know how she is. She wanted to see you. I can’t say no to her.” A flicker of something—annoyance, maybe—crossed Alex’s face. “Is that right? You’ll give her anything she wants? Even sell out your own brother?” Leo’s laugh was careless, unbothered. “Of course.” “You know I’ve loved her since we were kids. I’d do anything for her. I’d give up anything for her.” “Besides,” Leo continued, “it’s your own damn fault for never dating anyone.” He paused, and I heard him curse under his breath. “Shit. I forgot about Ava. I gotta go, man.” Alex glanced at me for a fraction of a second. “Right,” he said into the phone, and hung up. How kind of Leo to remember me eventually. Alex said nothing. I turned my head, focusing on the distorted city lights blurring past the rain-streaked window. My phone was in my purse. The old me would have snatched it out, desperately checking to see if Leo had called, if he was worried. But tonight, I felt nothing but a profound exhaustion. I left it in my bag. The screen remained dark, the ringer silent. It occurred to me then that I’d put it on vibrate for a meeting that afternoon and never changed it back. The rest of the drive passed in silence. When we finally pulled up to my building, I felt a wave of relief. The rain was still coming down hard. He reached into the back seat and handed me an umbrella. “Thank you,” I said, my voice quiet. I reached for it, but when my fingers closed around the handle, he didn’t let go. I looked up, confused. “Mr. Fordham?” His gaze was steady, focused on me. It felt like he was seeing straight through the sophisticated shell Leo had built, all the way back to the girl in the cornfield. After a long, unnerving moment, he finally released his grip. “If you’re hurting,” he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle, “it’s okay to show it.” He paused. “And if you need help with anything, you can come to me.” He added, “I won’t tell anyone.” My heartbeat stuttered. I realized then that my hands, hidden in my lap, had been trembling ever since his brother’s phone call. I’d give up anything for her. Wasn’t that me? Wasn’t I the “anything”? I clenched my fists, trying to still them. I looked into Alex Fordham’s calm, serious eyes, and a wild, self-destructive impulse bloomed in my chest. I deliberately changed my tone, my address. “Alex,” I began, my voice a stranger to my own ears. “What if I said… I wanted to be with you?” His brow furrowed. He gave me a single, cool glance. “That,” he said flatly, “is not an option.”

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I spent three years building Leo Vaughn. I was there when he was a nobody, a brilliant ghost haunting the fringes of the design world. I was there, by his side, all the way to the top, to the deafening roar of his success. We had a plan. A pact. Seven years together, and then a ring, a wedding, a lifetime. But on the eve of that seventh year, all I got was his contempt. I was standing in a CVS aisle, the small, chalky bottle of his favorite stomach meds cool in my hand, when my phone buzzed with a text from a friend. A video. Leo, holding court in a private lounge, drunk and loud and laughing with his friends. Laughing about me. “An old woman, man. I’m over it,” his voice slurred through the tiny speaker, laced with a cruelty I’d never heard before. “Honestly, the thrill is gone.” A pause, a swig from a bottle. “Besides, I paid my dues. She got what she wanted for the last few years.” 1 I pushed the door open. The booming laughter in the private room died instantly, replaced by a thick, suffocating silence. “What are you doing here?” Leo’s voice was sharp with irritation. He took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his head like a shroud, momentarily obscuring his face. Then, as if remembering some long-forgotten rule, he quickly stubbed it out in a nearby ashtray. That’s when I saw the girl curled up in his lap, fast asleep. He moved with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in months, gently draping his suit jacket over her, shielding her face from view. He shot a glare at his friend. “Put that out,” he snapped. “You’ll choke her with that smoke.” A bitter, acidic taste filled my mouth. I watched the scene, a silent movie of my own irrelevance. Finally, his friend, Rick, decided to play the diplomat. “Clara, hey! This is just my little sister, Annie. She’s wiped, poor kid. Couldn’t even make it to midnight before passing out.” He tried to sell me that pathetic excuse, as if I were some clueless investor he was trying to scam. I didn’t say a word. The silence stretched, and Leo’s patience snapped. “What do you want, Clara? What is the point of this?” I took a deep breath, the stale air of the lounge filling my lungs, and walked toward him. His arm tightened instinctively around the sleeping girl. I saw his friends tense, their eyes tracking me as if I were a predator closing in on their kill. It was almost funny. In the space of a single evening, I had become the monster in their story. I stopped a few feet away from him, a safe distance. “I’m here to end this.” If the room had been quiet before, it was now a vacuum. I could hear the faint hum of the ice machine in the corner, the soft whisper of someone’s breathing. Leo’s brow furrowed in confusion, a silent question in his eyes. You? Are you being this generous? You’re just letting this go? God, I hated myself in that moment, for knowing every flicker of emotion that crossed his face, for being able to read him like a book I had written myself. “Clara, come on, don’t talk like that,” Rick stammered, still trying to patch the gaping hole in the evening. “Leo was just looking after my sister for me. It’s not what you think.” They had no idea I’d been standing outside the door, that I’d heard everything. They thought this was just a simple, garden-variety fit of jealousy. The noise seemed to stir the girl in Leo’s arms. She shifted, murmuring something in her sleep. He immediately softened, his voice a low, soothing hum. He gently patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Go back to sleep. You’ve had a rough couple of days.” My own emotions felt raw, exposed. I couldn’t deny it. In that moment, watching him, I envied that girl with an ache so sharp it felt like a physical blow. “If you’re done with your scene, you should go,” Leo said, his eyes still fixed on the girl in his lap. “Don’t you have that big board meeting tomorrow? Can’t have the great Clara Sutton, the titan of industry, losing her composure over nothing. It would be bad for your brand.” His friends mumbled in agreement, their voices low. “Yeah, Clara, we’re all here. We’ll keep an eye on him for you.” I stood there for a long time, the silence my only response. “I’ll have my lawyer calculate the market value of your shares in The Sutton Group,” I said, my voice flat and steady. “As for the Aperture Designs partnership, I’ll be handing it off to my subordinate. I’m giving you what you want, Leo.” You’re free now. You can be with whoever you want. A new kind of understanding slowly dawned on their faces. They started to realize this wasn’t about jealousy. You don’t liquidate a shared life over a simple misunderstanding. This was a demolition. Leo finally grasped it. But his pride, his arrogance, wouldn’t let him accept it. He still thought it was a tactic. “Don’t think this little drama is going to work on me, Clara,” he scoffed. “You can play your games all you want.” He sneered. “And if I really wanted to be with someone else, I wouldn’t need you to graciously ‘bow out.’ I don’t need your charity.” He didn’t believe me. He couldn’t. He saw my gaze linger on the sleeping girl, and his expression hardened. A fierce, protective glare. “You lay a hand on her, you so much as look at her wrong, and I swear to God, I will make your life a living hell.” It wasn’t a shout, but the threat hung in the air, a low growl that vibrated in my bones. He truly believed I would stoop so low as to hurt a child. But I have my own pride. He had already called me old, boring, a thrill that was gone. Why would I subject myself to any more of this? “Ma’am, weren’t you here to bring Mr. Vaughn his medication?” my driver asked softly from the doorway, reminding me of my original, pathetic mission. I looked at the man I had loved, cradling another woman. It was clear now. A gesture of care from me was no longer a gift. It was just another piece of trash he had to deal with. I closed my eyes. Back in the car, I tossed the bottle of pills onto the back seat. This year, spring felt like it was holding its breath. 2 The next morning, Leo arrived at the office for the signing, trailing the stale scent of last night’s liquor. My assistant, as she always did, moved to leave the seat beside him open for me. I stopped her with a small gesture. “I won’t be participating in the signing today,” I announced to the room. “Just bring the finalized contract to my office when it’s done.” Leo’s face went cold. “Decided to become a silent partner now, Clara?” The sudden chill from the usually easygoing Mr. Vaughn sent a ripple of anxiety through the junior staff in the conference room. My assistant tugged nervously at my sleeve, her eyes pleading with me to smooth things over. For her sake, I relented, taking a seat near the door to at least be present. “Don’t be ridiculous, Leo.” She let out a slow, quiet breath of relief. The young woman distributing the documents was unfamiliar, but I recognized her immediately. It was the girl from last night. Annie. Perhaps it was the intensity of my gaze, but she finally looked up, meeting my eyes. “Ms. Sutton? Is there a problem with the documents?” I hadn’t noticed last night, but here, in the bright morning light of the conference room, I could see how truly lovely she was. A delicate face, a soft, sweet voice. I could understand the appeal. How could I, a woman carved from years of boardrooms and battles, ever compete with that? I smiled faintly and shook my head, a silent signal for her to continue. But as she turned away, the hem of her dress caught the edge of a mug, sending scalding hot water cascading across the table. “Ah—!” she cried out. Leo, who had been watching us with a hawk’s intensity, was on his feet in an instant. He rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. “Annie, are you okay? Are you hurt?” The raw, undisguised panic on his face was something I’d never seen before. It was a revelation. I never knew he was capable of that kind of emotion. I glanced down at my own arm, splashed by the wave of hot tea. Yes, that did sting a bit. “Did you forget what I told you last night?” After settling Annie down, Leo turned on me, his face a mask of fury. The atmosphere in the room crackled, suddenly charged with his anger. “I told you. I told you if you touched her, I would make you regret it,” he snarled, his voice low and menacing. “Did you really think I wouldn’t do it?” He remembered every word he’d said about her, but not a single one I’d said about us. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. The pressure was intense, even through the fabric of my blazer. “Leo! Are you insane? That’s Clara!” his friend, Rick, hissed, rushing to his side. “Think about what you’re doing! Think about everyone who works for you! Are you trying to throw away everything we’ve worked for?” The last part was whispered directly into Leo’s ear, but in the tense silence, I heard it perfectly. Everything we’ve worked for? A cold, uneasy feeling began to spread through my chest. Seeing that Leo was beyond reason, Rick turned his attention to me, trying to appeal to my sense of decorum. “Clara… we’re in the office. In front of everyone. Let’s not give them a show, okay? How about we all just take a step back?” I let out a dry, humorless laugh and pried his hand from my wrist. “I think Mr. Vaughn is mistaken,” I said, my voice carrying across the silent room. “We terminated our relationship last night. What possible reason would I have to harm Ms. Sullivan?” Rick’s face froze, his peacemaker smile turning to stone. Leo just looked confused. “When did we break up?” he demanded. “Clara, you don’t have to make up excuses like that to save face.” Rick, the only other witness to last night’s conversation, just stood there, paralyzed and unwilling to intervene. A profound weariness washed over me. It was like arguing with a wall. There was nothing I could do. “Leo! You’ve got it all wrong! It was my fault, I knocked it over!” Annie came rushing back from the restroom, dabbing at her arm with a wet paper towel. She was out of breath. “Let go of her! You’re hurting her! Ms. Sutton got burned, too!” The girl’s voice seemed to pull him back from the brink. The rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by confusion. Seeing how easily she could calm him, a familiar acidic sting rose in my throat. He released my arm, his eyes falling to the damp spot on my sleeve where his hand had been. He still looked suspicious. He replayed the scene in his mind, trying to find a motive, a reason for me to have done it, and coming up empty. He immediately turned back to Annie, fussing over her, checking her arm from every angle, terrified that she might have been hurt while he wasn’t looking. Then he turned his cold gaze back to me. “You know, Clara, you always have this look. Like you’ve just screwed someone over and have no idea how it happened. That innocent act,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Stop pretending. I know what you are. You’re a liar.” 3 A liar? What had I ever lied to him about? I glanced at the security camera in the corner of the room. I couldn’t be bothered to waste company resources pulling the footage to prove my innocence in such a petty squabble. “If that’s what you believe,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion, “then tell me. How should I compensate Ms. Sullivan for her trouble? Since it was, after all, my fault.” I gave my assistant a slight shake of the head, warning him not to argue on my behalf. My employees didn’t need to get dragged into my personal messes. Leo’s breathing was still ragged, but the worst of his rage had passed. “Annie has always admired you,” he said, his voice flat. “She wants to work with you. I want you to take her on, let her work by your side for a while.” A collective, silent gasp went through the room. Even the employees from Aperture Designs were stunned by the audacity of the request. So that was it. He wanted to plant a spy. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t seriously be agreeing to this!” Maya slammed her hand on my desk later that day. “You know he’s just trying to tear your company down from the inside!” I dropped my head into my hands, the fight draining out of me. “I don’t have a choice, Maya…” In a strange way, having her here, where I can see her, might actually buy me some time. As soon as I’d felt that cold dread in the meeting, I’d had my team start digging into our business dealings from the past six months. It turned out Leo had started laying the groundwork for this a year ago. He was planning a hostile takeover. He wanted to rip my own company out from under me. I spent three sleepless nights reviewing every transaction, every contract, every move he’d made. I recognized his strategy. It was a mirror image of everything I had ever taught him. But I had woken up too late. The damage was already done. The financial bleeding was getting worse. I couldn’t figure out where he’d found such a catastrophic vulnerability, how he was able to move so fast, to pin me to the butcher’s block and start carving me up. How could he be so cruel? Did he really hate me this much? One by one, my projects started to collapse. Long-term suppliers began pulling out, choosing to pay enormous breach-of-contract penalties rather than continue working with me. It was a cascade of disasters, and I was drowning. Finally, the day the investigators showed up at my office, I knew I had to surrender. I knew I had to face him. I found him in his office, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I broke the suffocating silence between us. “Leo,” I asked, the question tearing at my throat. “Does it have to be this brutal?” He leaned back in his chair behind his massive desk, the picture of casual arrogance. He had been waiting for this moment, for me to come crawling to him. “Kneel,” he said softly. “Kneel for me, right here, and I might consider letting The Sutton Group live.” His words made it sound as if I’d committed some unspeakable crime against him. “What did I do wrong?” A look of pure, unadulterated disbelief washed over his face. He laughed, a short, sharp, ugly sound. “You have the audacity to ask me that? After you stole my design portfolio? After you paid people to sabotage my first company? You really have no shame, do you, Clara?” He shook his head. “I always knew you were a performer.” No one knew better than me how much blood, sweat, and tears Leo had poured into his work to get where he was. And all I had ever done was try to lighten his load, to handle the things that drained his energy so he could focus on what he did best. I remembered that period, right before his company went public. He was running on fumes, completely exhausted. To give him the space he needed to focus on the new product line, I quietly took over all the schmoozing, all the late-night dinners and glad-handing with investors, just to clear his path. It was true that his design portfolio had almost been stolen back then. But what he never knew was that I was the one who discovered the plot. If I hadn’t intervened, Aperture Designs would have imploded before it ever began. The idea that I would steal from him was insane. He blew a cloud of smoke directly into my face. I couldn’t help but choke on it. He looked at me, his eyes cold and distant. “With you,” he said, “I think I’ve been far too soft.” 4 Annie was installed as my new assistant. Her work ethic wasn’t exactly stellar, and she had a knack for causing small, inconvenient disasters. But I had to admit, she had a creative spark. She’d come up with wild, out-of-the-box ideas that my most seasoned employees, people who’d been with me for years, would never have dreamed of. “Clara!” she chirped one evening, her eyes shining with genuine enthusiasm. “Can I please take you to dinner tonight?” I hesitated, looking at her bright, eager face. Could this girl really be a willing participant in Leo’s plan to destroy me? But the moment we sat down at the restaurant, my phone rang. It was my head of security. “Ms. Sutton, it’s just as you suspected. Someone broke into your office right after you left with Ms. Sullivan,” he said, his voice grim. “They’ve leaked the evidence from the old Williamson antitrust case. The authorities are on their way to seal the building.” And just like that, in a single evening, the empire I had spent more than a decade building was about to be burned to the ground by the man I loved. I knew he was capable of this, but the sheer, brazen arrogance of it still sent a chill down my spine. “Annie, I thought you loved spicy food,” a voice said from behind me. “Why did you order all this bland stuff?” As if on cue, Leo appeared at our table, a radar-like precision to his timing. He took the menu from her hand and flagged down a waiter, ordering several notoriously fiery dishes. “Today is a day for celebration,” he announced, placing a small, elegantly wrapped box on the table in front of her. “Happy birthday, Annie.” Of course. He’d chosen her birthday to deliver the final, crushing blow. He always knew exactly how to hurt me the most. I watched him, and beneath the smooth, charming facade, I could see it—the deep, triumphant glee of a man who had finally won. Annie gasped as she opened the expensive gift. “Wow, I’ve never gotten anything this nice before! Thank you, Leo!” The sight was like a shard of glass in my eye. Perhaps buoyed by his good mood, Leo magnanimously served me a piece of fish from one of the new dishes. “You have to try this, Clara!” Annie urged, oblivious. “This place is famous for it. It’s insanely, unbelievably spicy!” Leo just smiled and patted her head, a gesture of pure affection. “Are you happy now, Leo?” I asked, my voice raspy. “Now that you’ve pushed me into a corner?” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise at the hoarseness of my voice. “Actually, Clara, you should be thanking Annie. If she hadn’t been so eager to work with you, your company wouldn’t have lasted this long.” I managed a weak, disappointed smile. He was so young, still so naive in his cruelty. Just then, Leo’s phone buzzed. A message. I saw his face darken as he read it. The court had dismissed his anonymous tip regarding the Williamson case. The reason given: case invalid, already adjudicated. He immediately blamed me. “You lied to me again.” The same old accusation. I stared blankly at the bubbling red oil in the hot pot. If I hadn’t preemptively submitted the real evidence of Mark Williamson’s corporate espionage years ago, I would be completely ruined right now, just as he had wished. Numbly, I ate the piece of fish he had served me. I slowly, deliberately, raised my eyes to his face. There it was. The familiar cold indifference, now mixed with a fresh wave of anger. So, he really had forgotten. He’d forgotten that I couldn’t eat anything spicy. As the burning sensation began to crawl its way up my esophagus, a searing pain spreading through my stomach, I calmly took out my phone and dialed 911. Leo watched me, a contemptuous smirk playing on his lips. “What’s this? What kind of pathetic act are you putting on now? That trick doesn’t work on me anymore, Clara. I’m not going soft on you ever again.” His voice started to fade, the edges blurring into a dull roar in my ears. Even as the paramedics loaded me onto the gurney, his vitriol didn’t stop. The last thing I heard as my consciousness began to slip away was his voice, dripping with venom. “Liars like you deserve to go to hell. You’d better make this one convincing. In fact, it would be best if you never woke up at all.”

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I’m Hollywood’s resident Ice Queen, the beautiful statue who can’t act her way out of a paper bag. My agent, in a stroke of what she called “brand expansion genius,” shoved me onto a live-streamed celebrity survival show to, in her words, “boost my relatability.” Nobody expected the show’s engineered crisis—a mechanical wolf meant to add a dash of drama—to malfunction. Nobody expected it to hunt me with single-minded, metallic fury. And certainly, nobody expected me, under the unflinching eye of a dozen drone cameras, to snap a branch from a dead tree, sharpen it on a rock in three fluid motions, and pin the machine to the forest floor with one clean, powerful thrust through its synthetic heart. Later, staring blankly into a drone lens, I offered my only explanation. “I grew up in the country.” A pause. “We had a hog farm. You learn a thing or two about butchering. It’s practical, right?” 1 The day I retired, my handler—Director K—placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. His voice was as gravelly and devoid of emotion as ever. “Spectre,” he said, using my call sign. “You’ve lived up to the name. For years, you’ve been the sharpest point of The Blade. You’ve earned your rest.” He stared at me with those piercing gray eyes. “The organization will grant you one request for your new life. Anything.” A thrill, the first I’d felt in years that wasn’t followed by the scent of blood, shot through me. My eyes, I’m sure, lit up with visions of a life I’d only ever seen in movies. “My new life?” I leaned forward, my voice practically buzzing. “I want it all. The glamour, the scandal, the mindless decadence. I want to burn through money, dance until dawn, and be utterly, gloriously frivolous.” Director K’s perpetually grim face twitched. It was the closest I’d ever seen him come to a smile. He nodded slowly, the picture of managerial solemnity. “Understood,” he said. “You want to experience the rewarding, hands-on labor of a federal penitentiary. An excellent choice for personal growth.” I blinked. A week later, the organization unceremoniously dropped me into the glittering cesspool of Los Angeles. According to K, it had all the glamour and decadence I’d asked for, but the paychecks were, technically, legal. Three years later, my unblinking stare and an acting ability so wooden a director once famously declared me “splinter-proof” had cemented my status as Hollywood’s Ice Queen. While the gossip blogs and internet trolls debated which powerful producer I was sleeping with to maintain my career, no one could possibly guess the truth. That I was Spectre, the top field operative for The Blade, a clandestine organization that operated in the shadows to protect national interests. That I held the standing record for a solo infiltration: thirty elite hostiles neutralized in under five minutes. A record that remained unbroken. If The Blade was the ghost that guarded the country, I was the ghost that other ghosts feared. Back then, they had a saying in the underworld: “A glimpse of the Spectre is the Reaper’s kiss.” 2 “Declan, don’t look back!” I woke with a gasp, the words torn from my throat. The air in the cheap production tent was humid and stale, and cold sweat slicked my forehead. Outside, a voice dripped with saccharine poison. “Well, well. Some people really think this is a vacation, don’t they?” The voice belonged to Isabelle Vance, Hollywood’s reigning sweetheart and a rising star known for her girl-next-door charm and fiercely loyal fanbase. “An ice queen with nothing to offer but a pretty face, having nightmares in broad daylight. How unlucky for the rest of us.” She let out a fake little laugh. “And shouting a man’s name? Desperate for a little attention, are we?” Isabelle and I were at the same agency, but we were oil and water. Being cast on the same show was a carefully engineered ratings ploy. It was working. The phantom heat of the explosion still clung to my skin, my heart hammering against my ribs. It took me a few seconds to focus on the swaying palm trees and the painfully bright sunlight outside. A few seconds to remember. Declan was already dead. The man who was all easy smiles and infuriating charm, the one who always managed to shield me in the moments when death felt certain, had been vaporized in that firestorm. There was nothing left to bury. Only then did her words fully register. I pushed open the tent flap, squinting against the light. “What did you say? About a man?” Isabelle crossed her arms, her eyes raking over me with disdain. “Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you. I’m talking about Mr. Scott, of course. The mysterious heir to the Sterling-Scott fortune.” She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper meant for the hidden camera I knew was clipped to a nearby tree. “A piece of advice? A blank slate like you could never hope to catch the eye of a man like Dylan Scott. So don’t even try.” She smiled, a triumphant, venomous little thing. “I, on the other hand, am the only actress who received a personal invitation to his charity auction next month. It’s being held on The Stratos, his private jumbo jet. I hear Mr. Scott will be there personally.” Her smile widened. “I have a feeling he and I will find we have a great deal in common.” “As for you,” she finished, with a dismissive flick of her wrist, “you couldn’t even get a ticket to the airport.” I watched her, this preening, posturing fool, and felt the ghost of a real smile touch my lips. It felt foreign. “You should probably get some more Botox before you go,” I suggested, my voice flat. “The crow’s feet around your eyes are deep enough to lose a dime in. You wouldn’t want to scare Mr. Scott away.” I let my gaze drift over her. “And for the record? When you’re born with a face like this, you don’t have to try. You wouldn’t understand, but I don’t blame you.” 3 After my little chat with Isabelle, I tracked down the show’s director and demanded the use of his satellite phone. He stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. To be fair, less than an hour ago, I had twisted the head clean off his thousand-pound mechanical wolf. I just stared back. Three seconds later, he was handing me the phone like a holy relic. The moment the call connected, I didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Jenna! That charity auction next month, the one on The Stratos. You have to get me in.” The line went silent for a full thirty seconds. The only sound was the wind rustling through the jungle canopy. Just as I was about to lose my patience, my agent’s weary voice came through. “Sweetheart. You mean the auction that sent you a gilded, hand-delivered invitation three weeks ago? The one you immediately ran through the office shredder because, and I quote, ‘attending a pointless social gathering is a criminal waste of my finite existence’?” Right. That had happened. At the time, the idea of sipping champagne and making small talk with a bunch of billionaires sounded less appealing than a root canal. Besides, Isabelle’s PR team had already flooded the blogs with stories about her being the “exclusive celebrity guest.” I had no desire to play second fiddle and give her a free publicity boost. I cleared my throat, my tone shifting from demanding to syrupy sweet. “Right. About that. I know I was wrong, Jenna, you know I’m impulsive! Please don’t be mad.” I took a breath. “Out of curiosity, what was the appearance fee they offered?” Jenna’s sigh was heavy enough to be felt across continents. “One million dollars.” I didn’t hesitate. “A waste of my existence? Who cares! For a million bucks, I’d sell my soul and do a little dance while I’m at it! Jenna, you’re the best. Make it happen!” Jenna… Declan Shaw… Dylan Scott… I knew the odds of it being a coincidence were astronomical. I knew it was impossible. But deep inside me, in a place I thought had long turned to ash, a tiny, stubborn ember flickered back to life. Even if there was only a one-in-a-billion chance. I had to see for myself. 4 Jenna, being the miracle worker she was, pulled a string so obscure even I was impressed and secured me an invitation at the eleventh hour. As the most exclusive private aircraft in the world, The Stratos hosting a gala for the global elite was a media frenzy. The live streams were pulling in millions of viewers before the first guest even stepped on board. [Holy crap! It’s finally happening! I’ve never seen a plane this insane!] [An auction in the sky. Rich people are a different species.] [Look! It’s Isabelle Vance! That white dress is stunning. A true goddess!] [Did you guys hear the rumor? A major mystery guest is supposed to be on board!] [Yeah, I heard that too! The head of some secret global conglomerate or something…] [It’s gotta be for Isabelle! They’d be the ultimate power couple!] [Ugh, why is Ava Sterling there? She probably bribed her way on. So tacky.] I leaned against the curved window, scrolling through the comments on my phone with a profound sense of boredom. The hate was just background noise at this point. Suddenly, a quiet, powerful voice spoke from behind me. “I never thought I’d have the pleasure of seeing you again.” The voice was old, but the tone was firm. “Miss Spectre.” 5 I had heard the soft tread of his expensive shoes approaching, so the voice wasn’t a surprise. I turned slowly and gave a slight nod of my head. “Mr. Peterson. It’s good to see you looking so well.” The man was Marcus Peterson, a titan of industry and a true patriot. Over the decades, he’d funneled billions from his tech empire into national interests, from scientific research to infrastructure. His personal motto was famous: “The nation is the foundation; business is just the scaffolding.” As his influence grew, he’d become a target for foreign powers. At one point, a consortium of his rivals had pooled their resources and hired one of the world’s top ten mercenary guilds to put a kill order on him. My mission had been to provide close protection. In one month, I made sure that mercenary guild ceased to exist. He was the only person outside of The Blade who knew my real identity. Before we could say more, a flurry of motion and camera flashes interrupted us. Isabelle Vance, flanked by a gaggle of reporters and assistants, swept toward us like a queen holding court. One reporter shoved a microphone forward. “Isabelle, the internet is buzzing that you’re here tonight as a special guest of honor. Can you confirm a personal relationship with the mysterious Mr. Scott?” Isabelle didn’t answer directly, offering instead a shy, demure smile. “I think we should all focus on the wonderful charity this event is supporting. It’s better to keep a little mystery in life, don’t you think?” A wave of knowing murmurs and excited gasps rippled through the press pool. I had to physically restrain myself from laughing out loud. Her non-denial-denial was a masterclass in PR manipulation. I was willing to bet her own team had planted the rumors online. After all, no one in the world could have possibly traced my invitation back to me. Perhaps my smirk was a little too obvious. Isabelle’s gaze snapped to me, her eyes narrowing. Then she saw who I was standing with. Her entire demeanor shifted. Her eyes lit up with craven opportunity. She glided over, high heels clicking on the polished floor, the cameras trailing her like pilot fish. “Ava Sterling. You are just everywhere, aren’t you?” she said, her voice loud enough for every microphone to catch. “I thought you turned down the invitation. What happened? The moment you heard Mr. Scott would be here, you came crawling back?” She gestured towards Marcus. “And now you’re harassing Mr. Peterson? Honestly, your methods are so predictable. Some of us in this industry try to maintain a little dignity.” Just like that, she’d painted me as a desperate, social-climbing harpy. As she intended, the live stream chat exploded. [OMG I’m cringing so hard. Ava is so pathetic!] [First she’s a bad actress, now we know she has no morals either!] Having successfully trashed me, Isabelle turned a dazzling smile on Marcus Peterson and extended a perfectly manicured hand. “Mr. Peterson, it is such an honor. I’ve admired your work for years. I’ve always hoped for a chance to meet you.” Marcus Peterson was a legend. A few soundbites with him, caught on camera, would elevate Isabelle’s brand from mere celebrity to a serious public figure. A brilliant move. Except for one small problem. Marcus didn’t even glance at her outstretched hand. He simply stared at her as if she were a mildly interesting insect, his expression utterly flat. “I doubt that,” he said, his voice cold enough to freeze champagne. “My own company’s CEO has to book an appointment six months in advance to see me. Who, exactly, are you?” Isabelle’s face went from pristine white to a blotchy, mortified crimson. The silence in the cabin was so absolute you could hear the hum of the engines. Into that silence, Marcus turned back to me. With the deep, formal respect a knight might show a queen, he made a slight bow. “Miss Spectre,” he said, his voice resonating with warmth. “Would I have the honor of buying you a drink in the lounge?”

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