My tooth had been staging a week-long protest, and I’d finally decided to negotiate. Of all the dental chairs in all the city, I had to end up in my ex-boyfriend’s. He wore a poker face, his voice flat. “Open up.” A moment later, the verdict. “It can’t be saved. You need a root canal, then a crown. Thirty-five hundred.” My whole body went rigid. Holy shit. That’s half a month’s salary. How could the same mouth I had once kissed so passionately utter something so clinically cold? My voice trembled. “Is there… any way to make it cheaper?” My ex-boyfriend, Dr. Leo Carter, arched an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said. “It’s free for family.” 1 After a combined assault of ibuprofen and amoxicillin failed to quell the rebellion in my jaw, I finally waved the white flag and booked an appointment. I chose the closest in-network dentist my insurance would cover. When I told my best friend, Jenna, she decided to reward my bravery. She hired me a male model for moral support. “Okay, babe,” she texted, “Kaden will be there tomorrow to hold your hand. If the pain gets too bad, just focus on his abs.” The next day, I managed to coax myself out the door. I had to admit, having company was different. Kaden was ridiculously sweet, a non-stop charm offensive that actually managed to distract me from my impending doom. Until the nurse called my name. “Maya Chen.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I walked stiffly toward the exam room, my steps leaden. The moment I saw the doctor, I spun on my heel and bolted. Who in their right mind wants to run into their ex when they’re at their most vulnerable? I was halfway down the hall before Kaden and the nurse caught up, blocking my escape. “Hey, you were so close,” Kaden said, his voice a smooth balm. “Where are you going?” the nurse asked, grabbing my other arm. I was escorted back like a prisoner, one on each side. Leo Carter sat on a rolling stool, methodically pulling on a pair of latex gloves. A surgical mask hid the lower half of his face, but the cool indifference in his eyes was exactly as I remembered. He frowned at the commotion, then looked up. “What’s going on?” His eyes met mine, and a flicker of surprise crossed his features. He asked again, his voice a low rumble. “What is it?” Kaden patted the back of my hand. “It’s okay, Maya. I’m right here.” Leo’s eyes narrowed. It was his tell. The signal for deep annoyance. His gaze dropped to where Kaden’s hand rested on mine. “Family only in the exam room,” he said, his voice clipped. “You can wait outside.” My brain was a chaotic mess of panic and old memories; I didn’t even register his choice of words. I just trudged over to the chair and lay down like a patient on death row. “It’s the lower left,” I mumbled. “Open.” The cold metal of an instrument grazed my cheek, sending a shiver through me. “Don’t move.” My hand shot out, grabbing the hem of his white coat. “Does this hurt?” he asked, probing. A strangled noise escaped my throat. “You have a cavity,” he stated, withdrawing. “We need to get an X-ray.” As he stood up, my hand fell away, clutching at empty air. The nurse appeared at my side. “Come with me.” A few minutes later, I was back in the chair. Leo stared at the image on the computer screen, his brow furrowed. “It’s a deep one. The decay has reached the pulp, it’s infected. You need a root canal.” My world collapsed. I’d done my research before coming. Everyone said a root canal was torture. I squeezed my eyes shut in despair. Leo continued to explain the procedure, his voice a clinical drone. Only his last sentence snapped me back to reality. “It’s your lower left molar. You’ll want a crown on it afterward. Otherwise, it could fracture when you’re eating. If it cracks, the only option is to pull it and get an implant.” My eyes flew open. I couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity. “How much is a crown?” I asked, my voice tight. “Does my insurance cover it?” “I’d recommend the thirty-five-hundred-dollar option. It’s the best value. It’s an imported material, so insurance won’t cover it.” My whole body went rigid. Half a month’s salary. Holy shit. How could the same mouth I had once kissed with such searing heat utter something so clinically cold? My voice trembled. “Is there… any way to make it cheaper?” Leo arched an eyebrow. “Sure. It’s free for family.” 2 Leo was a year ahead of me in college. He was the undisputed, untouchable king of the dental school. I saw him for the first time during freshman orientation, standing in the middle of a chaotic crowd. He was holding the department banner, ignoring every single person with an equal, democratic disdain. That intense, brooding energy, the sheer force of his aloofness—it hit me like a lightning strike. I asked around. The consensus was unanimous: don’t even bother. Leo Carter’s photo had already been posted on the university’s unofficial Instagram page eight times in three days during orientation week. The number of people who came to “casually” see him in person was insane. The line of girls who had tried and failed to get his attention was at least a hundred long. But I was stubborn. His name was Leo Carter. It sounded like something out of a romance novel. I shamelessly threw myself at him for a whole year. Finally, at the start of my sophomore year, I caught his eye. I’d been getting nowhere, and in a fit of frustration, I’d scheduled a swim day with Jenna. On autopilot, I sent him a picture of me in my new bikini before my brain caught up. It was too late to unsend. Leo: I saw it. Leo: Please don’t send me things like that again. Leo: … Leo: And it’s probably not a good idea for a girl to go swimming alone with a guy. Leo: I don’t mean anything by it. Just a reminder. It was the most he’d ever written to me. I looked over at Jenna—my 5’10” best friend who’d just buzzed her hair for the summer and lived in oversized, gender-neutral streetwear. I started to laugh. Later, with a little coordinated teamwork from me and Jenna, Leo was finally mine. Once we were official, he was, just as I’d predicted, incredibly passionate. Aside from being a man of few words, he was perfect. But his lack of words was also the source of most of our fights. He was a vault. You couldn’t kick a single word out of him. Most of the time, our arguments ended with him making some silent gesture of apology, usually followed by a silent, smoldering seduction. And I, pathetically, would always give in. The underlying problems were just swept under the rug. 3 Then came my graduation. He was at the dental hospital, studying for his board exams, buried in work. I was at my internship, dealing with a nightmare of a boss. I came home one evening to our empty apartment feeling a bone-deep exhaustion I’d never known before. It wasn’t just physical; my soul was tired. All the issues we’d ignored for so long felt like a lit fuse. I was desperate for a fight, for any kind of emotional release. But Leo wouldn’t engage. He just quietly placed a container of takeout in front of me. “Maya, let’s talk when you’ve calmed down.” Calm down? That’s the last thing I wanted. I hated when he was like this. So eternally calm, so unshakable. Sometimes I wondered if he even liked me, or if he’d only agreed to date me to stop my relentless pursuit. But then I’d remember what he was like in bed, and it was so much more than just tolerance. I was constantly confused, constantly telling myself to just hold on a little longer. But that day, I was done. Leo came out of the shower and started unpacking the takeout for me. I turned my head away. “Leo,” I said, my voice flat. “Let’s break up.” The man’s hands froze. He said, “Okay.” Fuck. I was furious. Why couldn’t he just grab me, pin me against the wall, and kiss me until I couldn’t breathe? Why couldn’t he tell me we would never, ever break up? The unvented emotions turned inward, twisting like a knife in my gut. I pulled it out myself. And just like that, our relationship was over. The apartment we’d found together, he left to me. We’d signed a three-year lease; there were still two and a half years left when we broke up. Traces of him would pop up unexpectedly. His worn-out sweatshirt in the back of the closet, his favorite mug behind mine. He was embedded in every corner of my life. There was no escaping it. Each discovery was a fresh pang in my chest. And now, here he was, saying, “It’s free for family.” Call me crazy, but my mind was already racing. “Dr. Carter,” I began, my voice laced with a hope I couldn’t suppress, “are you implying what I think you’re implying?” “I have no idea what you’re implying,” he said, his tone back to neutral. “Are we ready to start the procedure?” I pouted, but obediently settled back in the chair. 4 “Open up.” “Is the pain severe?” I made a noncommittal sound. Just then, Kaden, who must have been lurking right outside, burst into the room and knelt by my other side. “Don’t be scared, Maya. I’m here for you.” Leo’s face darkened. The instrument in his hand gently—or not so gently—poked my decayed tooth. “Ah!” Tears sprang to my eyes from the sharp jolt of pain. I shot him an accusatory glare. He coolly averted his gaze. “Doesn’t seem that bad. We can skip the anesthetic.” You have got to be kidding me! I’m filing a complaint! I cursed him out in every language I knew inside my head. On the outside, however, I didn’t dare provoke him further. I was terrified he’d actually follow through. “Doctor, I think I’d like the shot,” I managed to say. Leo looked down at me, his expression unreadable, dark bangs shadowing his cold eyes. He signaled to the nurse. “Please escort the non-essential personnel out.” Kaden looked back at me three times as he was led away. Leo let out a quiet, sharp scoff. In the end, I got the anesthetic. Two shots of it. Gradually, half of my face went numb. The buzzing sound of the drill started up inside my mouth. I zoned out, letting my mind drift. Suddenly, Leo spoke. “That boyfriend of yours doesn’t seem like much.” What? He wasn’t my boyfriend. But my tongue was numb too, so I couldn’t say anything. “Don’t move,” he commanded. Right. I got it now. He was deliberately taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t speak. “If you’d come in two months ago, you wouldn’t have needed a root canal.” “He’s not very attentive to you.” “He calls you by your first name… a younger guy?” “A year post-breakup and your taste has changed that fast, huh?” “How long have you two been together?” I still couldn’t form a single word. As his questions continued, my brain started to go numb, too. 5 After what felt like an eternity, he leaned back, stretching his neck. “Alright. Come back in a week.” “And try not to chew on this side.” “Some mild pain after the anesthetic wears off is normal.” “Try to bear it. If you can’t, let me know.” As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and displayed a QR code. When we broke up, I had blocked and deleted him from everything. I took out my phone and scanned it. It looked like a work account. The profile picture was a cartoon cat in green scrubs and a mask. His feed was just an endless scroll of other people’s teeth. I thought for a moment, then typed out the most important thing first. He’s not my boyfriend. “Who cares,” he said out loud, not even looking at me. Oh, you cared enough to run a full interrogation a minute ago. His mouth might be saying one thing, but I bet he was secretly thrilled. I kept typing on my phone. How much is it for today? “We’ll settle the bill at the end.” Right. We’ll see if I even have to pay in the end. Just then, Kaden, seeing that I was done, rushed back in, his eyes wide with concern. “Maya, are you okay? Does it hurt? Want to touch my abs to feel better?” Leo, who was standing nearby, heard every word. “Seven hundred,” he said flatly. “Pay at the front desk.” I couldn’t help but smile, a lopsided, numb grin. My fingers flew across the screen. I thought we were settling it at the end? “I’ve changed my mind.” Kaden looked confused. “Doctor, what are you talking about?” Leo shot him a withering look and turned on his heel, walking away. Kaden muttered under his breath, “Wow, Maya. That guy is so rude.” On the way home, Kaden drove. I sat in the passenger seat, feeling the numbness slowly recede. I started typing again. Dr. Carter, my tooth hurts. Mild pain is normal. You said to let you know if it hurts. I’m letting you know, and it still hurts. On his end, the three dots kept appearing and disappearing: Typing… Finally, a single sentence came through. If it’s too severe, come back in. I thought for a second, then replied: I heard your clinic offers house calls. Leo: We don’t. If it hurts, come here yourself. Tsk. I pouted. He was playing the exact same hard-to-get game as when I was first chasing him. 6 When we got to my building, Kaden offered to walk me up. He was quite the professional. But as he stepped out of the elevator, a passing kid tripped and spilled a carton of milk all over him. The child’s parent rushed over, apologizing profusely. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Kaden said. “I’ll just go change.” He was soaked, shirt and pants. It looked incredibly uncomfortable. I’d actually grown to like him over the past few hours. So I said, “I have some clothes here you can probably wear. If you don’t mind changing?” The clothes were Jenna’s, left here from a sleepover. She wore ridiculously oversized everything, stuff that would fit most guys. Kaden scratched his head. “Would that be too much trouble?” “Not at all.” He went straight into the bathroom when we got inside. I tossed my phone on the sofa and went to find him some clothes, completely missing the frantic flashing from the little green cat icon. I get off work soon. It’s on my way. I can come by and take a look. A moment later. I’m off. Heading over now. I finally unearthed a set of Jenna’s clothes from the depths of my closet. Kaden took them with a shy smile. It was only then that I saw the messages on my phone. Without a second thought, I replied: The code’s the same. Suddenly, a sharp shriek came from the bathroom. “Ahhh—” It was followed by a loud crash. I ran over. “What happened?” “Oh god, Maya, I slipped! The slipper is stuck on my ankle!” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Just… come out.” A single leg emerged from the bathroom doorway. A pink fluffy slipper was wedged tightly around his ankle. “Maya, can you help me get it off?” I had to fight a powerful urge to laugh, mostly because my face was still stiff. “Come all the way out.” Kaden poked his head out, his face a mixture of shame and helplessness. “I’m so sorry.” “Okay, look. I’ll pull the slipper, you pull your leg. On three. One, two, three.” “Okay.” 7 “One, two, THREE!” I gripped the edges of the slipper and yanked with all my might. Kaden pulled his leg back at the same time. CRASH. He lost his balance completely and went down again. The momentum of the slipper sent me flying forward, landing right on top of him. It was not an elegant position. At that exact moment, my front door was thrown open with force. “Maya! What happened?!” Leo stood in the doorway, his face etched with panic. “I heard a loud noise…” His voice trailed off as he took in the scene. His expression slowly hardened into a thunderous mask. I scrambled to get up, but I put weight on my numb arm, and it gave out. I collapsed right back onto Kaden. Leo’s sharp gaze cut between the two of us. He let out a self-deprecating little laugh and pulled the door shut behind him. I could have cried. Dude, come on! At least give me a chance to explain! Kaden carefully helped me to my feet. The ridiculous pink slipper was still stuck to his ankle. “Maya, I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you a new pair.” I waved him off, my mind elsewhere. “Don’t worry about it, I have plenty. You should just go.” Kaden looked mortified. “Okay, I’m really going. Please remember to give me a five-star review, or my manager will dock my pay.” “I know, I will.” He left, taking my pink slipper with him. I opened my chat with Leo’s green cat avatar. I was just helping him pull off a slipper. The message was met with a bright red exclamation point. Ugh. 8 A week later, I booked another appointment. “Lie back. Open.” I seized my chance. “That day, I was really just trying to help him get his slipper off.” Leo was a machine, devoid of emotion. “I know. Open.” Open, open, that’s all you ever say. It was the same when we were dating. I shot him a wounded look. He ignored it completely. “Is it still hurting?” “No.” The familiar buzzing and whirring started in my mouth. Then a scraping, filing sound. Something was being shaped and cleaned. I let my unfocused gaze drift to his face. Leo’s brow was slightly furrowed in concentration. His hands moved with practiced precision. “Stop staring at me.” “And keep your tongue still.” The nurse assisting him chuckled. “Dr. Carter, you’ve still got it. All the young women love you.” I narrowed my eyes, trying to smile without moving my mouth. After the session, the swelling in my tooth was almost gone. Leo was typing notes into the computer. “Come back in another week,” he instructed. “And keep avoiding this side when you eat.” “Doctor, I was really just trying to help him with the slipper that day.” “We don’t have any kind of relationship. You don’t need to explain it to me.” “You said the same thing when I was chasing you.” “That was then. We’re broken up now. You’re the one who ended it.” “I regret it.” A crack finally appeared in Leo’s calm facade. “One year and twenty-eight days, and now you decide you regret it?” He stood up and walked out of the exam room without another word. I thought for a moment, then went to the front desk and got a sticky note. Doctor, can you please unblock me? My tooth was killing me last time and I couldn’t even reach you. I stuck it squarely on his computer monitor. 9 That evening, I sent a random emoji to his chat, just to see if the red exclamation point was still there. It was. That petty man was still holding a grudge. Come to think of it, I’d noticed when we were dating that Leo was actually incredibly petty. If I talked to another guy at a club meeting for two minutes too long, he’d get jealous and pin me against a wall, kissing me until I begged him to stop. Now, all I got was a red exclamation point. I sighed, spooning some broth into my mouth and carefully tilting my head to the side so it wouldn’t touch the treated tooth. I opened another chat window. It was the personal number of the receptionist at the clinic. After a few days of determined effort, we had become fast friends. Amy! Amy! How’s Dr. Carter today? REPORT! He’s working late, bad mood. I’ve already heard five patients whispering about how cold he is. I grinned at my phone. Is the hospital’s complaint box just full of complaints about him? Most of them are addressed to him, yeah. But they’re mostly love letters. ? What? Who puts love letters in a complaint box? Could he even see them? I imagined the hospital board meeting, someone pulling out a scented pink envelope. What would Leo’s reaction be? Suddenly, a flood of messages came from Amy. LEO’S LEAVING WORK! HE’S WALKING TOWARD A GORGEOUS WOMAN! HE’S GETTING IN HER CAR! I shot up, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door. I’m on my way! Too late, they’re gone. Nothing but exhaust fumes. Amy also sent a photo. It was blurry, taken in a hurry. But through the partially open car window, I could see Leo’s face. He looked happy. His usually sharp, severe features were softened. If the picture were any clearer, I was sure I’d see the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. I froze, my hand falling from the doorknob. I slid down the door and sat on the floor. I opened Leo’s chat window again. I typed and deleted, typed and deleted. Finally, I sent just two words. You there? Message failed. Ugh. The red exclamation point seemed to mock me, stabbing at my eyes.

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On the set of the dating show, my rival decided to get physical and slapped me. Just then, two options flashed in my mind. A. Slap her back. B. Kiss her. A wicked grin spread across my face. I chose B. The next second, my body moved on its own, and I pressed my lips against hers. Later that night, the guy I was crushing on blushed and stammered, “You know… I wouldn’t mind… uh, cross-dressing… if that’s what you’re into.” 1 I was a Z-list actress, so obscure my agent had literally ghosted me. Out of options and desperate for cash, I sent my application to the hit dating show, Sparks Fly. Less than ten minutes later, a friend request popped up on my phone. It was the producer. He asked if I was willing to play the part of the designated simp for Male Guest Number One. Are you kidding me? For the right price, I’d simp for a telephone pole. The moment I electronically signed the contract, several lines of golden text materialized before my eyes. I blinked hard, but they wouldn’t disappear. Panic set in. I forced myself to focus on the words. 「Please make a choice within ten seconds, or you will lose your eyebrows.」 「A. Demand your character be changed to ‘The Beloved.’」 「B. Demand your character be changed to ‘The Despised.’」 Before I could even process what was happening, the text vanished. In the makeup mirror before me, a browless demon stared back. It was me. What the hell?! 「You failed to make a choice within the allotted time. The audience’s desires were not met. As a warning, the System has automatically removed your eyebrows.」 Audience? What audience? 「The System originates from Planet 233, located 233 light-years away. Every choice you make will be globally broadcasted.」 「If you make choices during Sparks Fly that excite the planetary audience, you will receive handsome rewards. Otherwise, you will be punished.」 A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my ears. I only had one question. “Handsome rewards? How handsome are we talking? I mean, you can’t just invade someone’s body like this…” 「One billion dollars.」 “My alien overlords, my body is yours to command!” 2 Sparks Fly was an eight-episode series, kicking off with four men and four women. Its main gimmick was that the entire season was live-streamed from a deserted island. The cast was supposedly a fifty-fifty split of celebrities and ordinary people. To maximize the drama, no one was given the cast list beforehand. I figured it would be a gathering of fellow nobodies. No real A-lister would ever stoop to a dating show. I was so, so wrong. The moment I set foot on the island, my jaw dropped. Aside from me, the other “celebrity” guests were genuine superstars—the kind of people who could trend worldwide for losing a single strand of hair. The two guys standing right in front of me were enough to shake the entertainment industry to its core. One was Kai, a pop idol whose every breath could trend online. The other was Julian, an award-sweeping actor who had won every major film accolade. If I remembered correctly, this was his first-ever reality show. And Kai… he was the man I’d had a hopeless crush on for eight years. I was about to drag my suitcase over when someone bumped into me from behind. It was Leo from the wardrobe department, his arms piled so high with clothes he couldn’t see a thing. I quickly dropped my luggage to help him. “Thanks, thanks! Holly, I was just looking for you! Quick, pick an outfit. This episode’s theme is a beach party.” Each episode of Sparks Fly had a theme, and the cast had to dress accordingly. “Have Kai and the others already picked?” “The wardrobe selection is only for the non-celebrity guests.” I could have coughed up blood. I’d been in the business for half my life, and I was still considered a “non-celebrity.” As I was about to browse, the golden text floated before my eyes again. 「A. A sexy, floral bikini with flip-flops.」 「B. A loud, garish tracksuit with tacky loafers.」 Logically, any sane person would choose A. But my audience wasn’t sane people. They were aliens. And they were about to witness true fashion. I’m choosing B! The thought had barely formed when my hand shot out, grabbing the tracksuit and loafers as if possessed. Then, under Leo’s stunned gaze, I marched into the changing tent. 3 Sparks Fly was officially live. The production team had set up a ten-meter-long red carpet on the sand, and the guests were making their grand entrances like runway models. The first two female celebrities appeared. Lina, a talented young actress who had just won the prestigious Golden Stallion award. Rumor had it she and Julian were spotted leaving the same apartment complex the day before the show. Were they here to make their relationship official? “Excuse me.” I turned to see Julian himself striding past me. He wore nothing but a pair of designer swim trunks that, on closer inspection, seemed to be a matching set with Lina’s bikini. He found the perfect spot, crouched down without a care for his celebrity image, and started snapping pictures of her like a man possessed, a giddy smile plastered on his face. So this is what new love looked like. Next up was Seraphina, a pop idol who had debuted as the winner of a massive talent competition. She practically walked with her own background music. I heard she’d just landed a global ambassadorship for a top luxury brand. Watching her glitter and gleam, I shed a single, envious tear. Then came the two “regular” female guests. Of course, they weren’t entirely regular. The first one to step onto the beach was Jessica, a beauty influencer with ten million followers. Her fiery red hair whipped around in the sea breeze, and her flawless makeup was mesmerizing. Finally, all eyes turned to me. I had specially requested a theme song from the director and bribed one of the production assistants to read my handwritten entrance speech. “And now, striding toward us, is the woman who has graced the screen for a grand total of 3,500 seconds across a hundred unpaid roles! The woman who single-handedly bankrupted 17 street food carts just by being their brand ambassador! The aspiring, destined superstar of 2023—Holly!” And so, to the thunderous beat of the Radetzky March, I emerged. Wearing tacky loafers and a bright red tracksuit with the word “VICTORY” emblazoned in gold, I shuffled and grooved my way onto the beach. A dead silence fell over the set. Then, I heard a faint clapping from behind me. The source of the applause walked toward me. It was Kai. He took the floral lei from his own neck and placed it around mine, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “You are so cool! Can I get a picture with you?” This was the exact scenario I had replayed in my dreams a million times, and it was actually happening. I was about to answer when the System’s mechanical voice buzzed in my head. 「Congratulations, Miss Holly. Your choice has excited 88.8% of the planetary audience. As a reward for your continued excellence, you are gifted the Eyes of Love at First Sight.」 What did that mean? 「The next person to meet your gaze will fall in love with you at first sight.」 Instinctively, I looked up at Kai. His eyes, suddenly soft and deep, shimmered like a spring lake as he gazed back at me. He leaned closer… and closer… He was going to kiss me! No! Not like this! I wasn’t ready! I shoved him away. He stumbled back, rubbing his eyes for a moment before turning back to the camera, casually slinging an arm over my shoulder. Click! I stared, mesmerized, at the photo in my hand—a picture with the man I’d been crushing on for eight years. I had completely forgotten the director’s instruction to be the obsessive simp for Male Guest Number One. It wasn’t until all the male guests had made their entrances that I remembered my job. Male Guest Number One was a top-tier university student, five years younger than me. He seemed shy in front of the cameras, clutching a pool floatie to his chest. My phone buzzed with instructions from the director. With a sigh, I plastered on a smile and sat down next to him. 4 “So, what’s your major?” I asked, trying to break the ice. He was about to answer when he glanced at me and his face turned beet red. I followed his gaze down and realized that my earlier, enthusiastic shuffling had unzipped my tracksuit. And underneath, I was only wearing a bra. I yanked the zipper up so fast it nearly choked me, but hey, V-I-C-T-O-R-Y is indivisible! “Com… Computer Science,” he stammered, his voice so quiet I had to lean in to hear him. I got a little too close, and my cheek brushed against his collarbone. His skin was impossibly smooth, flawless. I’d never seen anything like it on a man. “Too close,” he whispered. I straightened up. He wore a pair of simple, black-framed glasses and had the awkward air of a socially anxious tech nerd, a stark contrast to the other outgoing guests. 「Please make a choice within 10 seconds.」 「A. Take off his glasses and hold his gaze for ten seconds.」 「B. Grab his pool floatie and touch what he’s hiding.」 A regular guy’s stomach? What’s there to see? I chose A. “Don’t move,” I said softly. He obeyed, freezing in place. I slowly reached out and removed his glasses. I was expecting to see the timid eyes of a frightened deer. Instead, I was met with a pair of sharp, commanding eyes—the kind that could make a general surrender an army with a single glance. We held eye contact for ten seconds. His gaze was so intense, so full of righteous power, I felt like we were about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance together. There wasn’t a flicker of romance, only a strange, overwhelming sense of awe. “Kian, Holly, meet in the yellow tent in half an hour. I’ll be taking this floatie now,” a crew member said, snatching the floatie from Kian’s grasp. My eyes widened at the sight of his perfectly sculpted eight-pack abs. I deeply, deeply regretted my choice. 「Congratulations, Miss Holly! 99.9% of the planetary audience was captivated by those eyes. They bear a striking resemblance to our deceased former Commander.」 Wait, you guys look like humans? 「We exist in a higher dimension. You could consider us an evolved form of human.」 This was getting too complicated. All I wanted to know was my reward. 「You are rewarded with a body that feels no pain for seven Earth days.」 Oh? So I could get hit by a car and not get hurt? 「Please read the terms carefully. You will not feel pain, but the damage will still occur.」 Got it. Still, I was hoping for something a little more… explosive next time. “Holly, let’s go together,” Kian said, standing up. I only just realized how tall he was—nearly a foot taller than me. He looked like he could carry me away with one arm. As I started to stand, a flash of bright red appeared. It was Jessica, holding out a cup of coffee to Kian. “You’ll need this to get through the day,” she said, then turned to me. “You go on ahead to the tent. I need a word with Holly.” Kian gave me a worried look before he left. I couldn’t figure out why. Jessica led me around a corner. It was secluded, but there was still a drone camera hovering nearby. A bad feeling washed over me. My premonition was right. The next second, a sharp, stinging slap echoed in the quiet space. “Stay away from Kian,” she hissed. “He’s mine.” The blow was vicious. My ears rang, and I could feel my cheek swelling instantly. But thanks to my new pain-free body, it felt like nothing more than the brush of a feather. 「Please make a choice.」 「A. Slap her back.」 「B. Kiss her.」 Well, if my audience wants a show, a show is what they’ll get. I’m choosing B! In the next moment, my body lurched forward on its own, and I pressed my lips directly onto her crimson-stained mouth. And standing right behind me, watching it all, were Kai and Kian.

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In the fifth year of my marriage to Conrad, the girl he was keeping in a hotel was exposed to the world. To protect her from being labeled a “homewrecker,” Conrad came to me with divorce papers. “Kathy’s father was my mentor,” he said. “Before he died, he begged me to take care of her. Now that this has happened, I have to do something.” For years, Kathy had always been Conrad’s priority. In my last life, hearing those words sent me into a spiral. I screamed, I fought, I refused to sign. I spiraled into a deep depression, but when Kathy casually remarked, “Autumn doesn’t really seem sick,” Conrad decided I was faking it—just another manipulative ploy. He framed me for adultery and filed for divorce. Only then did I understand that my years of love could never compete with his debt of gratitude to a dead man. I killed myself. This time, when I opened my eyes, I signed the papers without a moment’s hesitation. 1 “Autumn, once this all blows over, we’ll get remarried, okay?” I was sitting on a stone bench in the villa’s courtyard, lost in thought, when Conrad arrived with Kathy. Just three hours ago, tabloids had published photos of Kathy, branding her as Conrad’s mistress. The internet was tearing her apart, calling her the homewrecker who had destroyed my “perfect” marriage. Conrad’s carefully crafted “devoted husband” image shattered, and his company’s stock began to plummet. In my last life, when he’d brought me those papers, I had ripped out every single rose he’d ever planted for me in that courtyard. I had shrieked at him, demanding to know what was going on with Kathy. He had a million ways to handle the scandal, a million ways to protect his mentor’s daughter. But he chose the one that required sacrificing me. All because he didn’t want to “worsen Kathy’s depression.” What he didn’t know was that while the scandal was raging, I had also been diagnosed with moderate depression. “Autumn.” Conrad’s voice pulled me back to the present. My gaze fell to the divorce agreement on the stone table. He knelt before me, his deep eyes pleading, his warm hand enveloping mine. His voice was a soft, cajoling murmur. “Autumn, please. Just do this for me, can you?” “We’ll announce that our marriage has been over for a while, that we were planning to divorce a year ago but never found the right time.” I remained silent. Behind him, Kathy stood wrapped in his jacket over her white dress, her lips pale, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. “Autumn, please, will you help me?” she whimpered. “My mother killed herself because of online bullying and depression. I don’t want to end up like her. I’ll get on my knees, I’ll beg you, please…” As she made a show of bending her knees, Conrad shot up, catching her and pulling her into a protective embrace. “What are you doing?” he snapped, his face dark. Kathy choked back a sob, her voice frail. “I… I just wanted to make you feel a little better about this.” Conrad’s patience wore thin. He turned back to me, the earlier tenderness in his eyes completely gone. “Autumn, I didn’t come here to negotiate.” “This is my decision. If you refuse to sign, then don’t blame me when—” I calmly met his gaze, and his threat died on his lips. But I knew what he was going to say. He was going to say: Autumn, you know what I’m capable of. I have a thousand ways to make you sign. If this goes to court, you’ll never win against my lawyers. That’s what he’d said in my last life. Shortly after, I was “found” in a bed with several male models, the evidence of my “infidelity” irrefutable. Overnight, I became a pariah. And he and Kathy became the innocent victims. “I’ll sign,” I said after a long pause. “But you have to promise me one thing.” 2 Conrad glanced at me, then nodded. “Anything.” He handed me the pen. With a steady hand, I signed my name on the divorce papers, my expression unreadable. “Aren’t you going to read the agreement?” he asked, frowning. I offered a small, empty smile. “No need.” He had given me almost everything—the house, the stocks, the assets. A clean break, financially. All for Kathy. All to repay a debt to a ghost. “We’ll go to the city hall tomorrow to finalize it.” “Okay,” I said. Conrad’s hand, holding the signed papers, faltered. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but in the end, he said nothing more. As they turned to leave, Kathy shot a triumphant, mocking look over her shoulder. Her lips formed two silent words: You lost. And she was right. I had lost. I had lost an entire lifetime. Which is why I had no intention of losing this one. A few minutes later, my phone lit up with a series of texts from Conrad. 【I’m sorry you had to go through this today, Autumn.】 【Once this is over, I’ll throw you the biggest wedding ceremony. We’ll get remarried.】 【I can’t just stand by while Kathy’s depression gets worse. You can understand that, can’t you?】 I read the last message and laughed, a bitter, tearless sound. It was the same as before. In my last life, Conrad had gotten drunk with his friend Evan, trying to figure out how to force me to divorce him. He forgot that his friends were also my friends. Evan had called me, trying to mediate. He told me to be understanding, that Conrad was just a man who valued loyalty and honor. He reminded me how Kathy’s father had taken a chance on a young, ambitious Conrad, investing in him when no one else would. Back then, I had sobbed into the phone. “There are a million other ways to handle this! Why does it have to be divorce?” Evan went silent. He had asked Conrad the same question. Conrad’s answer had been: “Someone has to get hurt. I have to choose her over Autumn. Autumn loves me. She’ll understand.” Because I loved him, I was the one to be sacrificed. What kind of logic was that? Fortunately, this time, I had another chance. 3 When it came to Kathy, Conrad moved with lightning speed. He secured my signature in the afternoon and had a press conference scheduled for that same evening. His assistant called to “invite” me to attend. Before I could even respond, the assistant, clearly sensing my hesitation, relayed Conrad’s message. “Ms. Thorne, Mr. Hamilton believes you should attend. If not for him, then for the sake of your own reputation.” I paused, then let out a short, sharp laugh. He was threatening me again. Using the same old tactics, ready to drag my name through the mud until I bent to his will. I had never understood it. Did Conrad see me as his wife, or his enemy? Fine. He wanted a public clarification of our relationship? I’d be happy to provide one. The press conference was held in the grand ballroom of the city’s most luxurious hotel, packed with the industry’s top journalists. When Kathy, stunning in a silk gown, appeared on Conrad’s arm, the room erupted. Cameras flashed, reporters surged forward. Conrad instinctively shielded Kathy, holding up a hand. “I will answer all of your questions shortly,” he said with a practiced smile. “For now, could you please make way?” His voice was calm and smooth. As he looked up, his eyes met mine. I was surrounded by my own swarm of reporters. For a single, stupid moment, I held my breath, waiting for him to come and rescue me, too. But he didn’t. His gaze slid past me as if I were a stranger. A polite smile still on his face, he took Kathy’s hand and led her onto the stage. A bitter smile touched my own lips. The reporter closest to me, probably an intern, timidly held her microphone out. “Ms. Thorne, is it true? Have you and Mr. Hamilton really divorced?” “Yes,” I said, my smile widening. The intern pushed her glasses up her nose. “But… you’ve known each other since high school. You dated for seven years, married for five. Just last month, he bought you an entire island and named it after you.” My smile didn’t waver, but it no longer reached my eyes. “He owed me.” It was a gift to make up for missing my birthday because he was taking care of a “sick” Kathy. In my last life, I had been so proud of that grand gesture. I later found out the island was Evan’s idea and Conrad’s assistant had picked it out. Conrad didn’t even know where it was. “Do you… do you still love Mr. Hamilton?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. The reporters around me fell silent. On the stage, even Conrad had stopped talking and was looking at me, a slight frown on his face. I met his gaze coolly, then turned back to the young reporter. My lips curved into a bright, genuine smile. “No,” I said. “I don’t.” 4 I didn’t stay for the rest of the conference. After Conrad publicly announced that our marriage had been “over in spirit for a year,” I slipped out. Overnight, I became Conrad Hamilton’s discarded wife. Kathy, on the other hand, was painted as the innocent victim caught in the crossfire. The interview stayed at the top of news feeds for days. Conrad’s carefully chosen words were quoted everywhere: “Autumn and I decided to separate a year ago. We wanted to handle this privately, but now that an innocent person has been dragged into this, we have no choice but to clarify the situation. Ms. Vance is not the reason our marriage ended. She is the only family my late mentor has left, and I feel a duty to look after her. I hope everyone can be rational about this.” His fans rallied, spinning the narrative. I was the one who couldn’t tolerate their “pure, sibling-like bond.” I was the petty, jealous wife who couldn’t appreciate his loyalty and honor. I became the villain of the story. The day we got the final divorce decree, Conrad stopped me outside the city hall. “Don’t pay any attention to what they’re saying online. People will forget about it soon enough.” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. We were both being trashed online, but the public’s judgment was so very different for each of us. “Autumn, the holidays are in a couple of months,” he said. “Next year… can we get remarried?” He started to walk toward me, but I took a deliberate step back. My gaze flickered to the paparazzi hiding behind a nearby car. He noticed them too and stopped. “Conrad,” I said, my voice even. “I’m moving back to Boston.” “You haven’t been back in a long time. That’s a good idea. I’ll come pick you up for the holidays and we can—” “I’m not coming back,” I interrupted calmly. The smile froze on his face. The confusion was back in his eyes. “The day I signed the papers,” I continued, “you said you’d promise me one thing. It’s time to make good on that promise.” He just stared at me, uncomprehending. When I first woke up in this new life, it took me only a few seconds to process the love and hate I felt for him. For a moment, seeing those papers, I had wanted to scream, to rip them up, to fight him one last time. But reason prevailed. I let a small, genuine smile touch my lips. “Conrad, I want you to promise that you will never, ever appear in my life again.”

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The day after I broke up with Jay, he came over while I was at work and packed up all his stuff. Everything except the cat he’d adopted with his ex-girlfriend. Online, they say that calico cats with those splotchy, unfortunate-looking orange patches are the absolute worst. I crouched down in front of the cat and tried to sound menacing. “Your deadbeat dad abandoned you,” I hissed. “I’m your evil stepmother now.” “You don’t listen to me, I’m shipping you off to Siberia.” “Someplace where you’ll have to row a boat for a hundred years just to get back.” That night, I felt something licking my hair. In my drowsy state, I thought I heard a tiny voice in my head. Stepmom, don’t ship cat away. Cat gets seasick. 1 I jolted awake, fumbling for the lamp switch. The cat was sitting on my pillow, and we stared at each other. “Leo, was that you talking?” “…” Silence. My heart rate settled. I looked at Leo’s big, innocent face and thought, what a vivid dream. I gave his head a little scratch and lay back down. A few minutes later, that damp feeling was back, along with a faint, whiny voice. Stepmom, why Daddy no want me? My eyes flew open. In the darkness, I could just make out a furry cat butt parked right in front of my face. “Leo?” The licking stopped. The air was still for a full minute, and then it started again. I was getting annoyed. “Leo, if you lick me one more time, Mommy’s going to get mad.” Cat giving Mommy a bath. “LEO!” 2 I was sure of it now. That was Leo’s voice. We were face-to-face again. Leo just looked sleepy. “Leo, can you talk?” He didn’t make a sound. I looked down, thinking to myself, Have I been so stressed lately that I’ve developed a split personality? The moment the thought crossed my mind, the familiar little voice piped up again. Stepmom, cat sleepy. I’d named him Leo. When Jay first brought him over, he confessed the cat was a relic from his last relationship. I didn’t say anything, just gave the cat a new name. Now, being able to hear his thoughts was a revelation. “Oh my god! Leo, Mommy can hear you!” Leo just blinked at me groggily. Stepmom, cat sleepy. I scooped him up and gave him a big squeeze. “Okay, okay, let’s sleep. I hope I can still hear you in the morning.” “And stop calling me Stepmom. I was just trying to scare you earlier. You’ve been with me since you were three months old. I’m your real mom.” He didn’t answer, just started purring. He was probably already asleep. 3 Leo wasn’t very old. I’d asked Jay about his age, but he’d been evasive. We only got an estimate from the vet when he went in to get neutered. He was about a year old now, but he was already a solid ten pounds, his face as round as a dinner plate. I remembered when I first met him. He was a tiny thing, maybe three months old. Jay had told me his ex never really liked cats. She’d just pretended to for the image, but she never took care of Leo, which is why he took him. Leo had been a scrawny little kitten. Now, the suction-cup bed on the window groaned under his weight. The next day was Saturday. I woke up unusually early and the first thing I did was look for Leo. Sure enough, he was sunbathing in his window perch. Hearing me move, he looked over, then trotted toward me. Stepmom, cat hungry. A huge grin spread across my face. Oh my god, I could actually hear my cat’s thoughts. It was the most amazing, frustrating thing in the world. I desperately wanted to tell everyone, especially that jerk Jay. But first things first. “Leo, didn’t Mommy tell you? I’m your real mom. Stop calling me Stepmom.” Leo tilted his head. Mom? “That’s right! Mommy’s good boy!” I scooped him up and covered him in kisses, then popped open a can of his favorite food. “It’s a beautiful day. You want to go outside and play?” Leo was already devouring his food, but he managed to answer between noisy chomps. Yay! Go outside! 4 Ever since Leo was a kitten, I’d been working on socializing him. We started with late-night walks when no one was around, then moved to daytime strolls when the park was quiet. Slowly, he got braver, and now we regularly went out to sunbathe. They say a well-socialized cat is less stressed at the vet, and it’s true. When Leo went in for his surgery, he acted like he was visiting Disneyland, tail held high, exploring every corner of the clinic as if he owned the place. After he finished his breakfast, I got out his harness. Mom, cat no wanna wear. “Leo, this is to protect you. If something tries to attack you, Mommy can pull you away safely, okay?” Oh… He didn’t seem to fully grasp it, but he dutifully lifted his paws so I could put on the little pink harness with the bow. I usually carried him in the elevator. We lived on the fifth floor, so it was pretty convenient. Ding. The elevator doors opened to reveal a tall guy and a giant Samoyed. Leo, who had been bouncing with excitement, immediately burrowed into my arms. Mom, cat scared. “It’s okay, Mommy’s here,” I soothed him. “We can just take the next one.” I waved a hand to signal for them to go ahead, but the guy, wearing a baseball cap, didn’t seem to see me. He gave me a questioning look, then his eyes fell on the cat in my arms, and he seemed to understand. I thought he was going to hold the elevator, but instead, he took a step forward, blocking my view of the dog. Leo, no longer able to see the source of his fear, stretched his neck out, trying to get a peek. I whispered a thank you and stepped into the elevator. Mom, he say he goin’ downstairs to eat poop. Can cat eat poop? I practically fled the elevator, trying to stifle a laugh. “Leo, poop is not food.” Mom, doggo so sad. “Doggo? Is that the dog’s name? Why is he sad?” He’d looked perfectly happy and well-cared for to me. Clean white fur, bright eyes. The owner, the tall guy in all black, had a “don’t talk to me” vibe, but you could tell he was handsome under that cap. Leo didn’t answer right away. “Why is he sad?” I asked again. Leo’s voice was filled with somber pity. He say his dad no let him eat poop. I nearly died laughing. 5 There was a big park right next to our apartment complex, with trees, a lake, and a huge lawn. On weekends, it was packed with people—old, young, and plenty of pet owners like me. We were being followed by a fluffy brown poodle. Leo was giving it a dirty look. “What’s wrong?” I asked. Mom, dog bad. Dog pee everywhere. “Hahaha! No, Leo, that’s what dogs are supposed to do outside.” A golden retriever a little ways off was staring intently at Leo. “Why is that one staring at you?” Goldie say his owner best chicken-cooker in whole world. I dunno. Bet not as good as Mom! A little further on, we met a German Shepherd that looked incredibly smart. “They say German Shepherds are really smart, Leo.” Mom, cat smart too. “Yes, Leo is very smart.” He say when he was puppy, he help old lady cross street. “He did what?” Leo’s translations were a constant source of surprise. I never knew the animal world was so dramatic. We walked around for a bit and a little girl shyly asked if she could pet my cat. “Can she pet you, Leo?” I asked. I had to respect his opinion now that I could hear it. Leo hesitated. Okay. But only one pet. The little girl was very gentle. As she stroked his fur, Leo started purring, basking in the warm sun. I felt a wave of pure happiness. Soon, a crowd of kids started to gather. I knew it was time to go. There was a shortcut back to our building. As we were walking, I saw a familiar figure up ahead. Mom, it’s Doggo! I looked closer. It was the Samoyed from the elevator. I’d never seen them before that day. They must have just moved in. Leo seemed to really like the dog, so I was about to go over and say hi when a calico cat suddenly darted out from the bushes, blocking our path.

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Five years ago, my fiancé died in the line of duty. No body was ever found. But this year, on August 20th, at 8:17 PM, Captain Miller called me personally. He said they found him. They found Julian. He wasn’t dead. He was alive and well. And he was about to get married. 1 On the way to the small coastal town, Captain Miller and the other officers kept trying to prepare me. But I wouldn’t listen. I was the woman he’d chased for two years, cherished for five, and proposed to twice. How could he forget me? I rubbed the simple band on my finger. He had already asked me to marry him. How could he marry someone else? A flight, then a bus. Five hours on the bus left me dizzy and sick. After ten grueling hours, the four of us finally arrived in the town. “There,” Captain Miller said, pointing to a bed-and-breakfast called “The Sunny Spot.” The once-unknown inn had gone viral after a tourist posted a set of photos. The owner, captured in a few of the shots, had gained a legion of fans overnight. Even in profile, he was magnetic. Captain Miller glanced at me. “He doesn’t remember anything. You have to—” My gaze was locked on the door, my senses shutting down. When Captain Miller pushed the door open, a wind chime made of seashells chimed softly. Before us was a large courtyard with a cobblestone path leading to the house. A massive swing set sat in the middle of the yard, surrounded by a golden retriever and several cats. I stared at the animals, stunned. Suddenly, a figure emerged from behind a curtain of beaded shells. He was tall and lean, the muscles of his arms tight and defined beneath a black t-shirt. His profile was sharp and clean. The moment I saw him, my body froze. A tingling numbness spread down my spine, my mind buzzing. It felt as if all my bodily functions had ceased, leaving me only with the strength to stare, unblinking, at the man before me. I’d seen men who looked eighty percent like Julian, some even with the same beauty mark under their eye. But one look was all it took for me to know they weren’t him. This man, however, was different from the boy I remembered. His features were more mature, more angular, with an added layer of coldness. I moved closer, drawn by an uncontrollable force, until I could see the beauty mark under his eye, the red cord around his neck… “Ju… lian…” I choked out his name, my voice trembling, terrified of scaring him away. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with an unnerving, absolute strangeness. “What?” “Julian…” I could barely form the word. The man looked at me coldly. “Sorry, miss. You have the wrong person.” But I could be wrong about anything in this life except for Julian. He was half of my soul. Captain Miller quickly stepped in, pulling me back. “Excuse me, do you have any vacant rooms?” Julian crossed his arms, studying our group. “Yes. How many?” “Two.” “Come in.” He turned and walked back inside without a second glance. I had naively believed that the moment he saw me, he would remember. The moment he saw me, everything would be different. But he looked at me with the eyes of a stranger, sharp and laced with an annoyance at being disturbed. I hadn’t cried when I heard he was alive. I hadn’t cried when I heard he was getting married. But thinking of the look in his eyes just now, my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, threatening to burst. The tears finally came, hot and unstoppable. 2 “IDs.” Captain Miller handed over our identification cards. As the man took them, I saw it clearly: the tip of his left pinky was missing. He walked towards the counter, a slight limp in his right leg. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. Captain Miller took the room keys and had someone quickly lead me away. It took a long time before I could find my voice in the quiet of the room. “How did he… end up like this?” On the way here, I had sworn I would slap him across the face the moment I saw him. The heartless bastard. How could he forget me and marry someone else? But seeing him, all I wanted to do was hold him. I couldn’t bear to hurt him. I stayed in my room for what felt like an eternity, until Officer Davis, worried I might do something drastic, insisted I come out. Everyone was in the backyard having a barbecue. I saw him immediately, grilling skewers over the fire. Captain Miller was standing next to him, and they seemed to be getting along. “Nora? Are you feeling better?” I nodded. “Noah, let me introduce you. This is Nora,” Captain Miller said. I slowly extended my hand, fighting to keep it from shaking. “Nora Hayes. It’s nice to meet you.” His hand, warm and strong, gave mine a brief squeeze. “Noah. Nice to meet you.” It was the greeting of strangers. In that instant, my nose stung with the memory of the day he proposed. He had held me, his voice impossibly tender as he murmured, “Hello, Mrs. Archer.” It was all gone now. Looking at him, I had a million questions, but all I could manage was, “It’s beautiful here. Are you… happy?” He expertly flipped the skewers on the grill. “Yeah, it’s good,” he replied casually. That’s good. As he spoke, a chicken wing fell off the grill. He glanced towards the door. “Potato, come here.” Potato was the name of the orange tabby we had adopted together. He had named him. “He’s fat and round,” he’d said. “Let’s call him Potato.” Watching the golden retriever trot over, wagging its tail, a lump formed in my throat. “His name is Potato?” “Yeah. He’s fat and round. What else would you call him?” I turned away, secretly wiping a tear. Only he would come up with a name that simple. Once the food was ready, we all gathered around a table. I grabbed a can of beer and took a long swallow. The bitter taste filled my mouth as I watched the man across from me. The beauty mark I always teased him about was still there at the corner of his eye. The red cord was still around his neck, though I didn’t know if it was the one I had given him. Nothing felt real. Officer Davis passed out the skewers, placing a mushroom skewer on his plate. I reached for it before he could. “He can’t eat mushrooms.” Everyone at the table suddenly looked at me. As I fumbled for an explanation, a figure ran up and jumped onto Noah’s back, hugging his neck affectionately. “Noah, I missed you so much!” Noah quickly bent over, one hand protectively supporting the person on his back. “Get down,” he chided, but his tone was pure affection. He pulled the person from his back and into his arms, introducing her with a smile. “This is my fiancée, Maya.” 3 I was still holding the mushroom skewer, staring blankly at the bright, smiling girl in front of me. A sharp pain shot through my chest, as if I’d been struck by a hammer, leaving me breathless. “Hi everyone, I’m Maya, Noah’s fiancée. Welcome to Oceancrest!” Captain Miller and the others exchanged greetings. Maya was bubbly and talkative, complimenting everyone in turn. She looked at me and said, “Nora, you’re so beautiful! And so slim, I’m so jealous! Your hair is amazing too. Not like mine, I’m going bald.” She suddenly seemed to remember something and turned to the man behind her. “It’s definitely how you dry my hair. You have to be more careful, or I’ll be a bald bride next week.” Noah ruffled her hair, a fond, helpless smile on his face. “Okay.” Her eyes were so clear, untouched by hardship, and filled with excitement for her wedding. She reminded me so much of myself, back then. “A wedding?” Officer Davis asked. “Yes! It’s next Wednesday. We hope you can all be there!” I opened another beer. Maya reached for one too, but Noah snatched it away. “No.” Maya pouted. “Just one sip.” She then leaned in and, ignoring the rest of us, gave him a quick kiss. “Please, Noah? Just one little sip!” “Drink this.” He handed her a white thermos. When she opened it, the scent of roses filled the air. Maya wrinkled her nose. “Roses? Noah, I’ve told you a million times, I hate floral tea. Why do you always forget?” “I don’t know… I just make it out of habit.” Hearing his words, I turned away and drained the last of my beer. I never used to drink enough water. In high school, my voice would get so hoarse from studying aloud that I could barely speak. To get me to hydrate, Julian would make me all sorts of drinks—floral teas, fruit infusions, oolong tea. In the winter, he’d even brew me apple and pear soups. Every time I finished a glass, the proud Julian Archer would treat my pink thermos like a holy relic. Seeing me with the beer, Maya tried to bargain again. “Look, Nora’s already had a whole can. Maybe her great hair comes from drinking beer.” “You’re impossible.” I looked at the beer can in my hand and smiled bitterly. “My old boyfriend never let me drink either. I was a one-drink-wonder. He was very strict with me.” Maya looked at me. “So, he won’t get mad at you for drinking now?” I glanced at the man behind her and shook my head. “He stopped caring a long time ago.” It seemed I’d said the wrong thing. Maya looked at me apologetically and stopped pestering Noah, obediently drinking the tea from his thermos. I only ate the mushroom skewer, but I drank a lot of beer. Feeling dizzy, I excused myself. As I walked down the steps, I heard Maya’s bright laughter. I turned to look. She was clinging to Noah’s back like a koala, waving her arms and chattering away. Noah, occasionally stumbling under her weight, patiently cleared the table, looking completely used to it. Julian was never a patient person. I thought I was the only one he was patient with. I thought I was the only one he would ever love. Looking at Maya, whose face was overflowing with happiness, I clutched my chest, the pain so intense I felt like I was dying. That should have been me! The one being spoiled rotten by Julian Archer should have been me! I fought the urge to pull them apart and forced myself back to my room. I emptied my bag on the floor, frantically searching until I found my pills. I swallowed them, and the overwhelming wave of emotion finally began to recede. When Officer Davis came in, I was calm again. “I thought you were going to make a scene.” I looked out the window. “I was planning on it. But then… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” “I saw you brought a lot of things. Are you trying to help him get his memory back?” The box contained a decade of our lives: the first note he ever wrote me, his first love letter, every birthday gift from my 18th to my 28th, our first photo together, and our first wedding photo. I shook my head. “I never planned to.” Officer Davis looked at me, shocked. “Why?” Remembering the tragic death of Julian’s parents, I closed my eyes, steadying my emotions. “The pain of losing family… I don’t want him to go through that twice.” 4 The next day, I woke up late. By the time I had gotten ready and left with my sketchbook, it was well past lunchtime. Captain Miller waved me over. “Nora, we saved you some food.” Everyone was chatting around the wooden table in the courtyard. When Maya saw me, she dashed inside and came back out with an orange envelope, presenting it to me like a treasure. “Nora, we don’t have many family members. We’d be honored if you would come to our wedding.” It was a formal invitation. I took the envelope, unable to find the courage to open it. Maya urged me on. “Nora, you’re an artist. Can you tell us what you think of the design?” The single sheet of paper felt as heavy as lead. “Here, let me see. This color is beautiful,” Officer Davis said, quickly taking it. “I think so too! Noah picked the orange. I wanted purple, but the orange looks better. Nora, what’s your favorite color?” I set down my sketchbook and pointed to my own orange shirt. Before high school, I didn’t have a favorite color. Then one day, I wore an orange jacket, and Julian told me I looked beautiful in orange. From that day on, orange became my favorite color. “Nora, you and my Noah have such similar taste!” My Noah. The words grated on my ears. Once upon a time, Julian loved to introduce me as, “My Nora.” Officer Davis, noticing my expression, quickly took the invitation from my hands. “The cartoon on the inside looks just like you, Maya. It’s so cute. But is this supposed to be sunset? Is the wedding in the evening?” Maya rubbed her cheeks. “That was Noah’s idea! Because he said…” “Because some people can’t wake up in the morning,” I finished for her. Maya stared at me. “Nora! How did you know?! That’s exactly what Noah said! But the most important thing is that Noah loves sunsets.” Julian once told me that sunset was his favorite time of day, because at sunset, his Sleeping Beauty would finally become his girlfriend again. I’ve always needed a lot of sleep. Waking up at 5:30 AM in high school was pure torture. For three years, every morning, I would sit on the back of Julian’s bike, my eyes closed, my arms around him, sleeping. I could have three dreams in a ten-minute break between classes. Every time I woke up, his school jacket would be draped over me. I remember once, half-asleep, someone sighed in my ear. “You sleep so much. What am I going to do with you on our wedding day?” Years later, on my twenty-fourth birthday, I woke up to the scratch of his stubble. I pushed him away and tried to go back to sleep. He pulled me into his arms, gently patting my back, his voice hoarse with sleep. “Nora, let’s have our wedding at sunset.” I mumbled in agreement. He kissed my forehead and let out a contented sigh. “I have to make sure my little sleepyhead is well-rested. What if she gets cranky and decides not to marry me? Who would I complain to then?” And now, it wasn’t that I wouldn’t marry him; it was that he was marrying someone else. There really was no one to complain to. I picked up my sketchbook. In that moment, Maya noticed the ring on my ring finger. Following her gaze, I wiggled my finger. “Because he said the same thing.” “Are you married, Nora?” “Yes. For five years.” Maya was surprised. “Then where’s your husband? Didn’t he come with you?” I looked at the man walking towards us in the distance and gave a slight shake of my head.

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When I was 19, I dated a rich kid. I was idealistic back then, a firm believer that true love conquered all. I didn’t realize the four cruel words—class divide—could drown a person. The year we graduated, we broke up amicably. He went abroad to study finance; I went back to my village to manage greenhouses. When we met again years later, it was an awkward reunion. To fill the silence, I desperately searched for things to talk about. I asked him what our old classmates were doing now. I asked him if the stray cat we adopted together was doing well. But Liam just watched me silently. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice soft. “What about me?” “Aren’t you going to ask if I was okay these past few years?” 1 The call from Jason came when I was standing on the dirt hill at the edge of my village. The other villagers were staring at the sky, their faces etched with worry. I was trying to reassure them, telling them this was the only rain forecasted for the week, that it wouldn’t delay the watermelon harvest. That’s when my phone rang. “Rebecca, are you still messing with those stupid greenhouses? We have a huge problem! Liam’s back in the country!” “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. He’s been on a rampage ever since he landed, trying to find you. Bro, I can’t hold him off any longer.” Hearing his name after so long, I froze. “Why is he looking for me?” Jason sounded exasperated. “What do you think? He’s still hung up on you. Everyone knew he was crazy in love with you in college. Seriously, you were cold-blooded, breaking up with him like that. You nearly drove him insane.” “You’re out here playing farmer with your damn watermelons, but Liam… he had a rough time overseas. Anyway, just watch out.” Liam. I breathed out his name. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was supposed to “watch out” for. His name had been the soundtrack to my four years of college and had haunted my dreams for three years after. I thought I would never forget him, that the memory would be etched into my soul forever. But time, it turns out, really does wash everything away. Hearing his name now, I felt surprisingly calm. “Tell him not to come. It’s not convenient.” The village’s dirt roads were a muddy mess from the rain. I was a wreck, covered in mud and holding a farming tool. I thought back to my time with Liam and politely declined. “He’ll have to take a train from the airport, then a bus, then another bus, and finally a motorcycle taxi.” “It’s too much for him. He can’t handle that kind of hardship.” 2 I wasn’t lying. Liam was the long-awaited only child in his family. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, pampered and doted on. Looks, family background, education, ability—he was a golden boy, top-tier in every way. The only hardships Liam had ever faced were because of me. I took him to a cheap, spicy noodle shop and landed him in the hospital with a high fever. The scarf I knitted for him gave him a rash that lasted a month. Liam told me it was okay, that the rash wasn’t serious. But the next day, I found the scarf in the trash. I quietly retrieved it and buried it at the bottom of my suitcase. At 10, I didn’t understand what “low-quality chocolate” meant. I only knew it was a luxury I could only have on my birthday. Just like at 19, I couldn’t tell the difference between a taxi and a Maybach. I didn’t know that one pair of Liam’s shoes cost more than my living expenses for an entire year. I had never worn an evening gown and didn’t know the first thing about social etiquette. So for every formal event at school, Liam would attend with his childhood friend, an elegant girl named Stella. He always had a reason. “Rebecca, you’re always busy with your part-time jobs. And you don’t like these kinds of parties anyway. You wouldn’t be comfortable.” The school’s social media page was filled with photos of them, looking close. Among the countless comments, one stood out: “A perfect match. They actually belong in the same world.” So, the year we graduated, we broke up. He went abroad to study finance; I went back to my village to manage greenhouses. College blurred the lines, but graduation sent us back to our respective social classes. That’s why when Jason said he was still hung up on me, I didn’t believe it. If anything, he was probably just bitter that I was the one who ended things. After all, a poor girl from a small town who got into a good school had dared to break up with the heir to a massive fortune. Everyone had laughed at me back then. They said I was playing hard to get, that I was being manipulative. They laughed at my ignorance. 3 That night, the old college group chat was buzzing. “Did you guys hear? Liam from the business school is back. He’s probably the most successful one from our year, right? He already has several companies to his name.” “Can’t be jealous of that. He was born with it. Even if he didn’t start his own businesses, the family fortune is enough for him to live lavishly forever.” “He’s handsome and successful. How can one person have it all? And Stella, I saw her movie poster today. She’s gorgeous.” The conversation quickly centered on Liam and Stella. They had been the “it” couple in college, the campus king and queen. Even after graduation, they were still a hot topic. Amidst the envy and admiration, someone typed: “Aren’t they engaged already?” The chat went silent for a second, then exploded. “Don’t spread rumors. Since when were they engaged? I haven’t heard anything about them dating.” “Well, they are childhood friends, from similar backgrounds. A lot of people shipped them back then. There was even a fan group.” “Let’s not guess. What if they’re not engaged? That would be slander.” The person who started it seemed hesitant but then posted a photo. “It’s not me saying it. Stella admitted it herself. Her family is arranging her engagement, a childhood betrothal. And people figured out that the picture she posted was taken at the Thorne family villa. Who else could it be but Liam?” The photo seemed to convince some people, but others were still skeptical. “If they had a childhood betrothal, why didn’t they announce it before? And if they were engaged, why didn’t they date in college?” “Yeah, I remember Liam’s girlfriend back then wasn’t her. That girl was an idiot. If she had just held on to Liam, she’d be a rich man’s wife by now.” “I heard she was the one who dumped him. Then he went abroad and had a really tough time, he was…” The messages stopped abruptly as people realized who was in the chat. I stared at the photo for a long time before closing the app. I was the girl they were talking about. Liam and I dated for four years, from when I was 19 to 23. I was the girlfriend who was ignored, cropped out of photos. I was the gold-digging, manipulative, innocent-looking poor girl in his friends’ eyes. I was the foolish, laughable ex-girlfriend in my classmates’ eyes. I put down my phone, not letting their words get to me. When I was younger, I was proud, and my pride was more important than my life. But now… I looked up at the sky, just praying that the price for this year’s harvest would be good. Love, and all that… none of it was as important as my watermelons. 4 My village is remote, the roads are bad, and transportation is a nightmare. Every year, the buyers who come for our watermelons use that as leverage to drive the price down. This year, we had a bumper crop, and they were trying to lowball us with a price that was frankly insulting. I was in the middle of a heated argument with a merchant over a few cents a pound when Jason’s call came through. His voice was urgent. “Liam’s really on his way to you. Be careful, don’t—” I didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. Because the man he was talking about was standing right in front of me. I looked up and met a pair of silent, watching eyes. Liam was dressed in a black jacket and black leather shoes, his expression unreadable. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Neither of us spoke. The loud voice of our village mayor boomed from the doorway. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! The road is slippery from the rain. I gave that boy on the motorcycle a real talking-to. I’ll have him come apologize to you right away…” Our village roads are narrow, and motorcycles often skid and fall. The mayor was insisting the driver compensate Liam for his jacket, but Liam just waved a hand, saying it wasn’t necessary. I noticed the designer logo on the hem—a brand Liam often wore, with a price tag that would make you gasp. The kid on the motorcycle probably couldn’t afford to replace it with a year’s wages. The mayor apologized again and again, then eagerly pulled me forward. “This is Mr. Thorne, a businessman from the city! He heard our watermelons are top quality and came all this way. If this works out, he wants to sign a long-term contract and make us his official supplier. Rebecca, you have to talk to Mr. Thorne, show him the best we have to offer.” I was the only person in the village with a college degree and the one who had spearheaded the greenhouse initiative. The mayor had always valued my opinion, and I was the designated liaison with outsiders. Getting a buyer to come all this way was a huge deal, especially one from the city. The mayor’s face was flushed with excitement as he pushed me to be a good hostess. 5 I took Liam to the local clinic to get his scrapes treated. Then I arranged for him to stay in the nicest house in the village so he could shower and change. The entire time, the silence between us was deafening. Jason’s texts were making my phone vibrate nonstop, but I ignored them. I stared at the distant mountains, lost in thought. Liam said nothing. By the afternoon, I finally broke the silence. “Shredded potatoes, scrambled eggs, and that stewed chicken the mayor brought over. Is that okay for dinner?” I hesitated. “I’m sorry, the village is a bit rustic. There isn’t much to offer.” Liam finally turned to look at me. “Is this what you eat every day?” Of course not. The free-range chickens here are delicious, but the villagers rarely eat them. They sell them in town or to truck drivers passing through. A single chicken could fetch a good price. My family only ever had chicken on holidays or special occasions. This one had been stewed specifically to welcome him. When the food was on the table, Liam picked up his chopsticks and said suddenly, “You still remember I don’t eat onions.” I paused, saying nothing. Liam and I were polar opposites. I had no dietary restrictions; I loved spicy food and was always eager to try new things. He was a fitness fanatic with a bland palate. No onions, no spice, no mushrooms, no seaweed… The list was endless. Besides his family’s private chef, I was the person who knew his restrictions best. After the time I sent him to the hospital with that spicy noodle soup, I became incredibly careful about his food. I was so overwhelmed with guilt that I started working multiple part-time jobs, saving up every penny. My simple goal back then was to treat him to one meal at a high-end restaurant. It was only later that I learned that the restaurant I had researched and worked three jobs a day to afford was just an everyday occurrence for him. “Yeah, well, you don’t like them, Jason doesn’t like them, and I remember my old roommate was allergic to shellfish, and another one didn’t eat beef. I’ve always had a good memory.” The slight smile on Liam’s lips slowly faded. Maybe it was just because we hadn’t seen each other in so long, but the silence kept creeping back in. I thought about the mountains of watermelons in the greenhouses, about the hopeful look in the mayor’s eyes. If Liam was really here to source produce, I needed to smooth things over. My pride wasn’t worth jeopardizing the village’s livelihood. The past was the past. I started searching for a topic of conversation. “Do you still keep in touch with anyone from college? I wonder what they’re all doing now.” “Oh, and what about that stray cat we found by the dorms? The one you adopted. How is he? Is he doing okay?” “Have you been back to visit any of our old professors? I heard Professor Albright is retiring this year.” My voice was the only sound in the small, quiet room. I talked about our classmates, about the cat, and the memories started to surface. I rambled on for a while before I realized Liam hadn’t said a word. I trailed off, a wave of regret washing over me. I must have been talking his ear off, annoying him with all my questions. The wind rustled past the window. Liam finally looked up. He didn’t answer any of my questions. Instead, he just looked at me, his voice soft and low. “You ask about our classmates, about the cat, about our professors… what about me?” “Aren’t you going to ask if I was okay these past few years?”

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When I came back, the story was already almost over. The villain I’d raised with my own two hands, once a golden boy destined for greatness, had been broken by the story’s heroes, his fall from grace leaving him a cripple. I prodded Adrian Vance’s slumped form with the toe of my shoe, feigning indifference. “What’s this? The moment I’m gone, you let them beat you up this badly?” He snapped his head up, his eyes instantly flooding with tears. “Susie,” he choked out, his voice thick with unshed grief. “You weren’t here. They all hurt me.” I fell silent, my heart clenching. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to pull my hand away as he clung to it like a drowning man. But later that night, I stumbled upon a different scene entirely. I saw him, standing in the shadows of an alley, with the story’s hero pinned under his boot. “You idiot!” Adrian’s voice was a low snarl, nothing like the broken boy from before. “I told you to make it look fatal, not to actually hold back!” A pained groan came from the man on the ground. “If I don’t bleed enough, how is my dear Susie supposed to feel sorry for me?” 1 The sharp shatter of a glass echoed through the penthouse suite, mingling with ragged, wet gasps for air. Through the crack in the slightly ajar door, I saw him—a young man whose features were so exquisitely sharp they were almost unnerving. He was sprawled on a scarlet velvet sofa, his black shirt violently torn open, revealing the delicate line of his collarbone. His normally porcelain skin was flushed with an unnatural, feverish heat, his breaths coming in heavy pants. Crimson blood trickled from his wrist, a stark, winding river against his pale skin. “Adrian…” The moment I spoke his name, he froze. His blood-flecked eyelashes trembled, and when he swallowed, the movement pulled at the ugly, purple fingerprints blooming on his neck. He turned his head slowly, mechanically, as if terrified of waking from a beautiful dream. The second his eyes landed on me, Adrian’s pupils constricted. The raw fury on his face vanished, replaced by utter shock. “Susie?” That single, trembling word, thick with tears, sent a blade of agony straight through my heart. It was the same sound he’d made five years ago, when I was forced to leave this world. He’d wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck, his small body wracked with sobs. “Is Susie going to throw me away, too?” Now, he staggered to his feet, only to collapse heavily onto the carpet of shattered glass. I instinctively rushed forward, but he scrambled back into the corner of the sofa, dissolving into a fit of violent coughs. Dark red liquid dripped through his fingers. He tried to hide his hand, his sweat-soaked hair clinging to his pale face. He looked like a broken porcelain doll. “Dirty…” he rasped. “I’ll get you dirty.” “Who did this?” I knelt, hearing my own voice tremble. In the original novel, his right-hand injury was just a passing mention. But the wound before me was a horrific gash of peeled-back flesh, deep enough to show the bone beneath. He suddenly let out a low chuckle. His thin shoulder blades fluttered with the sound, like the wings of a broken butterfly. “Susie, when you’re not here, everyone bullies me.” He tilted his face up, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. “I listened to you. I tried to be good, I really did. So why… why are they still doing this to me?” His voice cracked. “They said you abandoned me. That an unwanted kid like me deserves whatever happens to him.” My heart seized. In the original story, Adrian Vance was a cruel, possessive, and dangerously unstable villain. He and the hero, Eric Cole, had grown up together in the same orphanage, once the best of friends. But through a twist of fate, Eric was adopted by a wealthy couple in Adrian’s place, whisked away to a life of privilege. Adrian, however, was adopted by a vile predator hiding behind a respectable facade. After suffering unspeakable abuse, he escaped and lived on the streets. He grew to believe Eric had stolen the life that was meant to be his, and he became the villain who antagonized the hero at every turn. When I was first pulled into this book, I found sixteen-year-old Adrian and took him in. My mission was to save him from his bleak fate, to rewrite his ending. Once my mission was complete, the System that brought me here forced me to leave. Until last night, when it contacted me again. It told me that Adrian’s world was on the verge of collapse because a key character had gone off the rails. It needed me to go back and fix it. But I didn’t understand. Under my guidance, Adrian had become a model student, a kind and brilliant young man. Why hadn’t the plot changed? He was still cornered by the heroes, beaten down, and nearly broken. To make matters worse, the System had gone silent. No matter how much I called out, it wouldn’t respond. What the hell was going on? According to the original plot, tonight was the night he’d be drugged and finally snap, embracing his dark side completely. But the boy in front of me, his eyes filled with nothing but confusion and helplessness, was still the same little stray cat I’d taken in off the streets. Before I could think any further, Adrian’s suppressed sobs, like those of a caged animal, pulled me back to reality. My resolve shattered. Overwhelmed with a fierce, aching tenderness, I pulled him into my arms. “I didn’t abandon you,” I whispered into his hair. “I’m back now.” “Then… will you help me?” His eyes suddenly lit up, and he pressed his damp forehead into the crook of my shoulder, nuzzling against me. “What do you need me to do?” I heard the rasp in my own voice. “It’s so hot.” A soft, kitten-like whimper escaped his throat as he guided my hand to his body. A trail of desperate kisses landed on the side of my neck. My breath hitched— My palm was suddenly pressed against a searing heat. I flinched back, but his hand clamped around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, his body flush against mine. “Susie,” he breathed, his voice a raw plea. 2 The next morning, I woke up feeling like every joint in my body had been pulled apart. My wrist ached so much I could barely get dressed. The doorbell rang several times before I managed to drag myself to the door, leaning against the wall for support. “Adrian…” I mumbled, assuming he was back. But the face on the other side of the door was a stranger. “Can I help you?” “Hello,” the man said. His coat was expensive, his posture impeccable. “My name is Eric Cole. If I’m not mistaken, you’re Susie, Adrian’s sister. Is that right?” It took me a second to place the name. Eric Cole. The hero. “What do you want?” My voice was instantly laced with hostility. Eric seemed taken aback, a flicker of hurt crossing his handsome features. “I just came to warn you. Adrian isn’t as harmless as he looks.” He stepped inside. “It’s all an act he puts on for you. Especially after you disappeared five years ago. He went… unhinged. He did some truly terrible things.” On the coffee table, Eric pushed a manila folder toward me. “This is the proof of how he’s been targeting my company for years. Just last week, he orchestrated a hostile takeover of three of my subsidiaries. Those news reports about his fall from grace, about him being chronically ill? That’s all carefully crafted PR he spread himself.” His voice grew urgent. “The truth is, I’m not the one bullying him. He’s the one who won’t let me go.” The pages were filled with dense columns of data and figures. I set my teacup down on the table with a sharp clack. “Mr. Cole, I think you should leave.” My voice was cold. “With your resources, faking these documents would be easy. Regardless of what you show me, I’ll only trust what I see with my own eyes.” Eric stood up, his gaze intense. “Susie, he’s playing you.” I frowned. “I’m not your sister. Please don’t call me that.” Eric’s mouth opened, then closed. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained. “I got ahead of myself. I’m not trying to cause trouble, I swear. I’m just worried about your safety. Adrian’s mental state is incredibly unstable. He’s even been known to self-harm.” I snatched the folder and threw it at his chest. “Are you trying to tell me he drugged himself? That he cut himself up like that?” My voice rose, shaking with fury. “Eric Cole, let me tell you something! If you dare touch Adrian again, I will drag you to hell myself!” A look of genuine confusion crossed his face. “I swear, I didn’t do anything. If you don’t believe me, you can verify all of this yourself. I’m just worried about you!” The folder fell to the floor, spilling its contents. Several photos scattered across the rug. The images were unmistakable: Adrian, holding a shard of glass to his own arm, cutting deep. The wounds were identical to the ones I’d just bandaged. My breath caught in my throat. I blinked slowly, then bent down to pick one up. Just then, the electronic lock beeped. “Susie, I bought you your favorite cake! The shop downtown was closed, so I had to run across seven blocks to…” Adrian’s excited voice died the moment his eyes fell on Eric. The air in the room went still. Soaked from the rain, Adrian stood frozen in the entryway’s shadow, the cake box in his arms perfectly pristine. He lowered his head, raindrops clinging to his trembling eyelashes. My fingers went slack, and the photograph fluttered to the floor. “Adrian, listen to me…” His gaze dropped to the photo at my feet. He looked like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. He walked toward me, slow and deliberate, his eyes rimmed with red. “Susie… even you don’t believe me?” “Adrian!” Eric lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar. “Stop the act! That illegal shipment at the docks last month—” “Enough!” I shoved myself between them, shielding Adrian. “Go get changed,” I told him gently. Then I turned to Eric. “And you, please leave. I don’t want to see you again.” Eric’s hand fell away, but his eyes never left my face. “Susie… you held my hand once, a long time ago,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Do you really not remember me?” I froze, a flicker of uncertainty crossing my mind. “Do I know you?” Adrian looked up at him, his voice trembling. “Eric, she’s all I have left. Are you trying to take her from me, too?” 3 I sent Eric away. Adrian clung to me like a frightened animal, refusing to let go. I gently stroked his hair. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “He didn’t fool me. I’ll always believe you.” He made a soft, whimpering sound before reluctantly pulling away. “Then… you wait here, okay? I’m just going to run down to the convenience store for a spoon. I was in such a hurry to get back that I forgot.” “Okay, go on.” “Wait! You forgot your umbrella again.” But he was already out the door, moving too fast. By the time the words left my mouth, he was gone. With a helpless sigh, I grabbed a coat and went after him. The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the world into a gray watercolor. I stood at the intersection, scanning the street for any sign of him. Through the throng of people, I saw a familiar silhouette turn down a narrow alley. I hurried to follow. As I got closer, I heard the sickening thud of something heavy hitting a wall. Adrian’s voice, laced with a chilling amusement, drifted through the downpour. “Still haven’t learned your lesson, have you, Eric?” I instinctively slowed my steps, my blood turning to ice. The sight before me made me freeze. Rain slicked his skin, a single drop tracing the sharp line of his throat before disappearing into his collar. His white shirt was plastered to his torso, revealing the faint outline of the bandages I’d wrapped around him. He stood there, his expression blank, and brought his foot down, grinding the heel of his leather shoe onto Eric Cole’s fingers. Eric’s face contorted in agony as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. “I knew it,” he was saying to Adrian. “I knew you were just putting on a show for her.” Adrian’s eyes turned venomous. “Shh,” he whispered, pressing the sharp tip of a fountain pen to Eric’s throat. “Only I get to call her that.” He tilted his head, a faint, cruel smile playing on his lips. “Didn’t I tell you? You touch what’s mine…” Eric flinched away, and in that split second, our eyes met. I stumbled back behind the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs. I couldn’t be sure if he’d recognized me through the storm. Eric’s clenched fist slowly uncurled. He lowered his gaze, a nearly imperceptible smirk touching his lips. Adrian let out a cold snort. “What’s the matter? Scared? You’re so weak today. Weren’t you the one who almost threw me off a roof last time?” The next thing I heard was Eric’s voice, suddenly frail and broken. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who’s been beating me up this whole time!” He dissolved into a fit of hacking coughs. “It hurts… somebody… somebody, please help me!” 4 The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance shattered the raindrops into a million silver shards. I stood at the mouth of the alley, clutching my phone as paramedics carefully loaded Eric onto a stretcher. His dark lashes fluttered weakly against his pale skin. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. “The patient has multiple metacarpal fractures from a crush injury. We need to get him to surgery immediately,” a nurse called out, her voice cutting through the roar of the rain. Three of Eric’s fingers were bent at an unnatural angle. The gash on his forehead, washed clean by the rain, looked ghostly white. I felt a tremor run through me and had to look away. A strange, sour ache bloomed in my chest. Could I have been wrong about him? I felt a scorching gaze on my back and turned. An umbrella suddenly appeared over my head. It was Adrian. He positioned it carefully, completely blocking my view of Eric and the ambulance. “Susie? What are you doing here?” he asked, his breathing ragged. His black hair was plastered to his forehead. My eyes flicked to the cuff of his gray sweatshirt. There was a dark, reddish stain there, blurred by the rain, that looked suspiciously like blood. I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “I was waiting for you for too long. I got worried, so I came out to find you.” For a split second, Adrian’s expression stiffened. “The rain was so heavy, I had to buy another umbrella. That’s what took so long,” he said, his face smoothing back into its usual, obedient mask. He smiled. “Susie. I knew you loved me the most.” A paramedic with a clipboard approached us. “Ma’am, are you the one who called for the ambulance?” Adrian’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. The sound of the rain suddenly seemed deafening. I heard my own voice, calm and steady. “Yes. I saw someone was hurt.” The paramedic asked a few more routine questions, then nodded politely. “Okay, we understand. Thank you for your cooperation.” Throughout the entire exchange, Adrian was unnervingly silent, as if someone had hit his mute button. I didn’t look at him again. I just turned and walked away. On the way back to the hotel, Adrian trailed half a step behind me. The silence between us was heavy and suffocating. The elevator’s mirrored walls reflected his downcast profile, water dripping from his lashes like tears. I stared at the glowing red numbers as they climbed. “Adrian, why did you attack Eric?” “I didn’t go for the kill,” he said flatly. “I just wanted to scare him, to make him stay away from you. But then he grabbed a brick from the ground and smashed his own hand with it.” I closed my eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “Adrian, from what I remember, Eric has been a concert pianist for ten years. With the injuries he sustained tonight, he might never be able to play again. No musician would risk their entire career like that.” In the original novel, Eric’s musical talent was legendary. He’d won countless piano competitions since he was in middle school. The only sound in the elevator was our breathing. Suddenly, Adrian grabbed my wrist. His fingertips were as cold as ice, and his dark eyes were turbulent. “Susie, are you saying you think I’m lying?” The elevator dinged, arriving at the 28th floor. I gently pulled my hand from his grasp and stepped out first. “Adrian,” I said, not looking back. “I just can’t figure out what his motive would be for hurting himself. It doesn’t make any sense, does it?” There were no cameras in that alley. Eric would have no grounds to accuse Adrian of assault. So why would he do something so self-destructive?

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Locked in the villain’s mansion, I finally snapped and slapped him. The delicate golden chains on my wrist chimed mockingly. Instantly, a stream of comments flooded my vision: [Is this villainess blind? Who else in this entire story actually gives a damn about her besides Ross?] [LMAO, she only has eyes for the hero. Can’t wait to see how spectacularly she screws this up for herself.] I stared, confused. The comments froze for a second, then exploded with renewed intensity: [WHOA, hang on. Nobody told me the villainess looked like *that*?!] [Ross, you idiot! A woman who looks like this, and you’re not on your knees for her yet?! If you won’t, I will!] [Baby, don’t reward him! He’s a total creep, I’m afraid he’s gonna lick your hand!] Before the thought even finished, I felt a sudden, wet warmth spread across my palm. 1 My eyes went wide. I snatched my hand back as if I’d been burned. Ross Bowen adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice a low rumble. “Done yet?” The muscles under his tailored suit were a testament to coiled power—broad shoulders, a lean waist. He projected an aura of cold, detached authority. You’d never guess this was the man who had just licked my palm. I lost my nerve. My hand balled into a fist at my side as I glared at him, all my fight gone. In the city, whispers and rumors clung to Ross Bowen like a second skin. An MIT prodigy, a special forces operative at twenty-two, and by twenty-four, the undisputed king of the Bowen empire. My most vivid memory of him, however, was from a family gala last year. I was still with my ex-fiancé then. I’d accidentally picked up Ross’s medical report and my eyes had latched onto a single, damning line: Erectile Dysfunction. I’d looked up, my brain short-circuiting. “Uh, Uncle Ross… you… you can’t…?” The words were stuck in my throat. “You’re… out of order?” Ross had calmly taken the report from my numb fingers, not a hint of shame in his voice. “An old injury from my time in the service.” “Can it… can it still be used?” He considered this for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his lips. “It works when I’m with someone I really, really like.” My mind was a complete blank. “Ha, um, okay, well, that’s great. Hope you can use it soon.” I nearly bit my tongue off. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean, I hope you find someone you like soon.” And now, in a cruel twist of fate, that boomerang had come right back and hit me. I rattled the chains on my wrist, my voice full of impotent rage. “When are you going to let me out of here?” Ross’s tone turned to ice. “What’s the rush? Eager to run back to your ex-fiancé?” I thought for a moment, then answered seriously, “No. You kidnapped me so suddenly, I didn’t even get a chance to quit my job at the diner.” 2 I was Scarlett Vance, heiress to the Vance fortune, raised on champagne and caviar with a handsome, childhood-sweetheart fiancé by my side. Then came my twentieth birthday party, one month ago. A scholarship student from my university, a girl I barely knew, showed up at my family’s estate. In front of all our guests, she dropped to her knees with a dramatic thud, her voice choked with tears. “Miss Vance, why did you frame me for stealing your gold necklace? I’m so sorry, I can’t possibly afford to pay it back. Please, let me work as a maid in your house to repay my debt!” I just stared at her, dumbfounded. First of all, who the hell are you? And second, I’m Scarlett Vance. I wear diamonds, not gold. Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, she promptly fainted in the middle of our grand hall. She was rushed to the hospital in a flurry of chaos. And then, the tests came back. Oh, joy. A DNA match with my mother. It turned out she was the real Vance heiress. I was the impostor. My parents turned on me, their faces contorted with rage. “You little curse! If it wasn’t for your wicked heart, stealing Chloe’s rightful place, we would never have been separated from our real daughter for so long!” My fiancé, Kevin, stood by with a cold sneer. “I was so wrong about you. Chloe is kind and resilient. You’re not even worthy of being compared to her.” And just like that, on a freezing December night, I was thrown out of the Vance mansion without so much as a winter coat. I rubbed my arms, sighing into the cold air. Well, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. I wasn’t about to starve. Become a barista? I heard the pay was decent. Or maybe a waitress at a 24-hour diner? At least I could probably crash there at night. The diner was the more practical choice. And so, after serving three hundred cups of burnt coffee and a hundred greasy hot dogs, a black Maybach purred to a stop right outside. My ex-fiancé’s uncle, the true power behind the Bowen family, Ross Bowen himself, stepped out. He stood before me, holding a black umbrella against the sleet, every inch the aristocrat in his bespoke suit. “Scarlett Vance,” he said, his voice cool and detached. “You’re coming with me.” I expertly ripped the plastic film off a cup of instant noodles and poured in hot water. “You’re the thirteenth old guy this month who’s tried to make me his sugar baby. Take a number and get in line.” A deep frown creased Ross’s brow, his presence suddenly menacing. “Other men have been bothering you?” He gave a sharp nod. One of his bodyguards stepped forward. “Miss Vance, my apologies.” And then, as I kicked and squirmed, they stuffed me into the back of the Maybach and sped off into the night. 3 Ross locked me away in his forest villa, a sprawling estate that commanded its own private mountain. Our food was flown in daily by helicopter. The first time I tried to escape, he simply locked the massive front gates. I screamed at him. “You old pervert! Robbing the cradle, kidnapping your nephew’s ex… Aren’t you afraid your ancestors will crawl out of their graves to haunt you?!” In reality, Ross was only twenty-six, just six years older than me. He looked up, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Still thinking about that useless nephew of mine?” The antique bronze key turned over and over in his palm, as if he were stroking someone’s skin. “He got engaged to the real Vance heiress last week, you know,” Ross said, his voice a silken drawl. “Swore up and down that you had deceived him, and that she was the only one he could ever marry.” I sulked, my lower lip pushed out. That night, I drowned my sorrows in two servings of foie gras, a steak, and a lamb chop. Go on, lock me up, I thought, chewing furiously. I’ll eat you into bankruptcy. The third time I tried to escape, Ross finally lost his patience. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his light brown eyes were like cold, hard gems. “Still haven’t learned your lesson, have you, Scarlett?” And that’s when he fastened the thin, solid-gold chain to my wrist. It chimed with every movement, a stark contrast against my pale skin. Furious, I slapped him. And that’s when I saw the comments. [Snowy skin, cherry cheeks, round eyes… OMG, baby, you’re a little ragdoll cat. I wanna kiss you all over!] [Woah, baby, don’t slap him! His face is thick enough to handle it, but what if you hurt your precious little hand?] [Can’t you see he’s secretly loving it? Getting his face touched by your hand… you just made his day, you lucky bastard.] I puffed out my cheeks. “I’ve seen your medical report, you know. You’re broken. What’s the point of this whole ‘kept woman in a gilded cage’ act? You might as well just let me go.” A low chuckle escaped him. His impossibly long fingers, the tips calloused from his time in the service, flickered in front of my face before he gently pinched my cheek. “Who ever said,” he murmured, his touch sending a shiver down my spine, “that’s the only part of me that works?” It took a second for his meaning to sink in. When it did, my face erupted in a fiery blush. How could anyone be so shamelessly crude?! I didn’t dare hit him again; I was afraid he’d lick my hand. I didn’t dare kick him; I was afraid he’d grab my foot. And I certainly didn’t dare curse him out; I was afraid he’d actually enjoy it. Who said I was the villainess in this story? I was the victim here! Weak, helpless, and trembling in my designer boots. I spun around in frustration. “Ross, weren’t you supposed to be expanding your business overseas? What are you even doing back here?” He lowered his gaze to look at me. It was then that I noticed how long his eyelashes were, dark and thick like a raven’s wing. When he looked down like that, it created an illusion of profound, heart-stopping affection. “I came back for you.” The comments provided a more detailed explanation: [It’s because of you, you little idiot! If the big boss didn’t come back, you were going to starve to death in that diner!] [Baby, do you remember that charity event when you were a kid? The little boy at the orphanage? That was a baby Ross.] [He was so skinny his bones were sticking out, covered in cuts and bruises. You were the one who bandaged him up, comforted him, and gave him candy. You were his only salvation.] [His backstory is tragic, tbh. His older brother was a screw-up, so his psycho dad dragged him, the illegitimate son, out of the orphanage to be the family’s new workhorse. All that pressure fell on him.] [He worked himself to the bone, achieving in a few years what takes others decades, all so he could be free from his family and be with you.] [He fought tooth and nail to become the head of the Bowen family, and when he finally came back for you… oops. The love of his life was engaged to his nephew.] [Heartbroken, our guy left the country and even signed up for a high-risk assignment in a war zone, basically trying to get himself killed. Almost lost his… little brother… in the process, LMAO.] [So of course, when he heard the treasure of his heart was being bullied, he had to rush back and save the day.] Ross and I… we had a history like that? I stared at him, my eyelashes fluttering, a blush creeping up my neck. “You… you like me?” Ross just watched me, his gaze steady. The light from the chandelier pooled in his eyes, turning them into a shimmering lake. He smiled, and the lake rippled. “I’ve been in love with you for sixteen years.” An uncontrollable heat flooded my face, starting at my cheeks and spreading to the tips of my ears. “Then… then why? You’ve had me locked in this villa for so long, but besides that one time I slapped you, you haven’t even laid a finger on me.” The moment the words were out, I clamped my hands over my mouth. But it was too late. The color of Ross’s eyes deepened to a stormy amber. In one smooth motion, he scooped me up and laid me down on the sofa. He tugged on the chain attached to my wrist, making it impossible for me to struggle. And then, his lips were on mine. It was a soft, trembling, impossibly gentle kiss. Just a light press of his lips against mine, nothing more. It was nothing like the predator I thought he was. My body trembled uncontrollably, my heart hammering against my ribs. His kiss was lighter than a butterfly’s wing, and it tickled. I instinctively licked my lips. Ross’s breath hitched. The next moment, the kiss became a storm, a hurricane that swept me off my feet, leaving the whole world shaking. I don’t know how long it was before he finally let me go. His long fingers traced the outline of my mouth, wiping away the moisture. His voice was a low, magnetic hum. “So you like it rough, hmm?” 4 I fled. Scrambling back to my room, I buried my head under the covers like an ostrich, my face burning. All I could see were the comments scrolling through my vision. [Ross’s fingers are so long. Anyone else get that? Hehe.] [Don’t be fooled by his self-control now. The man can take pills, you know!] [And let’s not forget he’s a legit special forces vet. Those pecs, those abs, that V-line… Damn. I’m seriously worried he’s going to wear our baby girl out.] [AHHHH SHUT UP!! AS A MOM-FAN, I DO NOT APPROVE!!!!] My face grew even hotter. What were they even talking about? I couldn’t understand a word. Besides, Ross couldn’t perform! The most he could do was kiss me a little. What else was there?! A soft jingle brought me back to reality. The chain was still on my wrist. It was solid gold and surprisingly heavy, making everything awkward. After an hour of tossing and turning, during which the chain slapped me in the face three times, I finally shot up in bed. Fueled by a fresh wave of indignation, I stormed back to Ross’s room. “You old pervert, take this thing off me!” The words died in my throat. I froze in the doorway, taking in the scene before me. A cloud of steam, tinged with the scent of sandalwood, hung in the air. Ross had just taken a cold shower. His dark hair was wet and slicked back, and he turned his head at the sound of my voice. He wasn’t even wearing a towel. Droplets of water traced a path down the sleek muscles of his chest, over the hard planes of his abs. They glistened on his skin, sliding down his taut waist. And lower… I nearly jumped out of my skin, my face hot enough to fry an egg. Words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I thought you couldn’t use that?!” A slow, dangerous smile spread across Ross’s face. He walked toward me, a wave of cold air and sandalwood washing over me. His calloused fingertips, still damp, brushed against my cheek, a feather-light, wicked touch. “I told you,” he murmured, his voice a low drawl, “it works when I see someone I really like.” I gaped at him, sputtering “you-you-you” without forming a complete sentence. I snatched the key from his hand and fumbled with the lock on my wrist, my hands shaking. All the while, he just stood there, watching me with a smug, knowing smile, not helping, not touching. Yet his presence, that scent of sandalwood and cold water, was more overwhelming than any touch could be. Click. The chain fell away. This time, I ran from his room even faster than before. My heart pounded against my ribs, my mouth bone dry. I had to down three glasses of iced tea before I could even begin to calm down. Only one thought remained in my head. Thank God… thank God Ross was broken. Because with hardware like that… I might not have survived the night. 5 The leaves outside the window grew lush and green, the cicadas a constant hum. Before I knew it, a month had passed. After that one heart-stopping kiss, Ross hadn’t touched me again. It was summer break, so I had no school to attend, and he seamlessly monopolized all of my time. The villa was enormous, equipped with a home theater, a game room, and a full gym. I could spend hours just rolling around on the tatami mats. The backyard was a sprawling lawn with stables, tennis courts, and a golf course. Whenever I wanted to go out, a helicopter would be waiting to fly me to the most exclusive shopping district in the city. He’d book out entire department stores for me, swipe his card for an eight-figure sum, and then we’d fly back, loaded with bags. My days were filled with perfectly balanced meals, eight hours of sleep, and the freedom to go anywhere and do anything I wanted. After a month of being “imprisoned,” I looked healthier than ever—my skin was glowing, my eyes bright. No one would ever believe I was the same fake heiress who had been thrown out of her home just a month ago. So when the invitation arrived, I was stunned. “A banquet to welcome the true heiress back to the Vance family… why would they invite me?” Ross flipped the invitation over. “Chloe specifically requested you. She probably wants to show off.” Chloe. The real heiress. “Do you want to go?” he asked. I thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

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Three years into my marriage with Rico Thorne, the crown prince of the city’s elite, I got pregnant. He stared at me, his jaw clenched tight. “I haven’t so much as laid a finger on you. How the hell are you pregnant?” I lowered my eyes. “You did… on your birthday. You were drunk, and you thought I was your first love…” To make it up to me, Rico wired half a million dollars to my account and started treating me like a fragile queen. The day his first love returned to the country, I removed the prosthetic belly, left a signed divorce agreement on the table, and vanished. Six months later, he cornered me in a VIP lounge, a male model draped on each of my arms. A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “My dear wife,” he purred. “You’ve led me on quite a chase.” 1 When I called Rico to tell him I was pregnant, the silence on the other end of the line stretched for three full minutes. “Where are you?” His voice was tight. “City General.” When he saw the pregnancy test report, with my name printed clearly on it, confirming I was six weeks along, Rico’s face twisted into a mask of disbelief. He turned his head slowly, his eyes boring into me, his voice a low growl. “Nora Evans? I’ve never even touched you, and you’re telling me you’re pregnant?” The nurse standing nearby shot me a look of pure shock, then glanced at the top of Rico’s head with a newfound sympathy. I dropped my gaze, biting my lip hard, my expression a carefully crafted picture of hurt. “You did…” I whispered. “On your birthday… you were so drunk… you thought I was Monica…” The nurse’s sympathetic gaze instantly shifted from him to me. Rico’s dark eyes were stormy, unreadable. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “If you’re pregnant, then you’ll have the baby.” “The Thorne family will take care of you.” That evening, my bank account was half a million dollars richer. A wire from Rico. Compensation, he called it. Three years ago, the Thorne family had pressured Rico into an arranged marriage. He chose me, fresh out of college. Sweet, simple, and most importantly, desperate for cash. In the three years I’d been his wife, I’d played my part perfectly. I was the dutiful Mrs. Thorne, never causing trouble, never making waves. We were husband and wife in name only. I’d always known Rico was in love with someone else. Which is why, in three years of marriage, he had never once touched me. And I absolutely loved it. No nine-to-five grind, no soul-crushing corporate life. I got paid just for existing in his mansion. On top of my monthly “salary” of fifteen thousand dollars, Rico would frequently take me on lavish shopping sprees. It was all for show, to keep up appearances for the Thorne family, but he never asked for any of it back. The designer clothes, the jewelry, the handbags—they were all mine. This sweet deal was supposed to last for another two years. But then, a couple of weeks ago, on his birthday, he’d gotten wasted and mistaken me for his first love… And that led to this. I asked Rico not to tell his family about the pregnancy just yet. “It’s still early,” I said, my voice soft. “Let’s not get their hopes up, just in case. We can tell them after the first trimester, once everything is stable.” He saw the logic in that and agreed. After the “news,” Rico started spending significantly more time at the villa. The man who used to show up twice a month was now home two or three times a week. He was also a nervous wreck, hovering over me constantly, terrified I might trip or bump my stomach. He’d stare at my perfectly flat belly and ask, “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” One day, tired of the question, I answered flippantly, “A boy.” He sulked for the entire evening. I found out later he’d always wanted a daughter. After two weeks of being treated like royalty, his first love came back. The day Monica Ferguson returned, Rico paced the length of the villa, a caged tiger. “Aren’t you going to the airport to meet her?” I asked. He shot me a hesitant look. I gave him a gentle, understanding smile. “It’s okay. The baby and I are very generous.” That was all the permission he needed. The moment his car pulled out of the driveway, I bolted upstairs to grab the suitcase I’d packed weeks ago. I left the signed divorce agreement on the coffee table and made my escape. I caught a late-night flight to the next state over and laid low at a friend’s place for half a year. Finally, after months of coaxing, my friend convinced me to go out. We ended up at a high-end club, where I hired two young, gorgeous models to keep me company. There I was, basking in the attention, a handsome young man on each arm, when the door to our private suite was kicked open. The man standing in the doorway was radiating a glacial fury. He just stood there, his gaze locked on me. After a long, silent moment, a faint, chilling smile touched his lips. “My dear wife,” he said. “You’ve led me on quite a chase.” 2 A bone-deep chill settled over the room, the silence thick with unspoken threats. Rico leisurely took a seat on the main sofa, gesturing toward me with a slight tilt of his chin. His voice was a low rumble. “Come here.” I cursed my traitorous legs. Even after six months, my body still obeyed him without question. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. His hand came to rest on my flat stomach. “Where’s my son?” he asked, his tone deceptively light. I kept my head down, guilt coiling in my gut. “I… I miscarried.” He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “Did you miscarry, Nora? Or was there never a baby to begin with?” Game over. The jig was up. Rico was right. I was never pregnant. The report was a fake. The whole point was to squeeze some extra cash out of him. I wouldn’t have been in such a rush, but Monica was coming back. A few days before Rico’s birthday, she’d sent him a message. “Rico, I’m coming home soon! We can celebrate your birthday when I get back! xoxo” My original deal with Rico was for five years. A fake marriage, fifteen grand a month. After five years, I would walk away with just under a million dollars. But with Monica’s return, our divorce was imminent. I did the math—I was about to lose out on over three hundred thousand dollars! I couldn’t let that happen. So, I used his drunken birthday as an excuse to stage a fake pregnancy and cash in. He was definitely drunk that night. But he came home and passed out immediately. No drunken rampage, no mistaking me for Monica. Nothing. My shoulders slumped. “Mr. Thorne, I’m so sorry. I was wrong.” He tilted my chin up with his finger, his touch slow and deliberate. “Nora, what you did is called fraud.” “I could have you arrested.” I made a last-ditch effort. “We can work this out! That half a million—I haven’t touched a cent. I can give it all back.” Honestly, I’d been too busy hiding from him to spend it. “I don’t want the money,” he said, his eyes cold as ice. “Then what do you want?” “I want my son.” I was dragged back to the villa. As he put it, you can’t un-spill water. Or un-give money. Since he’d already given it to me, there was no taking it back. But now, since I’d taken the money, I owed him a son. I rolled my eyes. “What do you think I am, some kind of single-celled organism? You think I can just reproduce on my own?” He raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, after all these years of marriage, you still haven’t fulfilled your… wifely duties, have you?” I clutched my chest protectively. “Rico Thorne! We had a deal! My body wasn’t part of it!” He nodded slowly. “And our deal never said you’d try to extort me with a phantom child, did it?” Damn it. My own brilliant plan had backfired spectacularly. I was trapped. That night, when I came out of the shower, Rico was already in bed, shirtless. He lifted the covers, his eyes commanding me to join him. “Wh-what are you doing?” He bared his teeth in a predatory grin. “Making a son.” “But…” I hesitated. “It’s that time of the month.” The smile vanished from his face. A second later, he was out of bed, scooping me up into his arms. His brow furrowed. “And you’re walking around barefoot on a cold floor? Aren’t you cramping?” He gently placed me on the bed, then called for Mrs. Gable to bring up a thermos of ginger tea sweetened with honey. He watched me drink the entire mug before the tension in his shoulders finally eased. I have terrible menstrual cramps. Every month, a few days are pure misery. I was surprised he’d remembered such a small detail. After the hot, sweet tea, the ache in my stomach did subside. “Thank you,” I said, genuinely. He just snorted and turned his back to me. “Are you… sleeping here tonight?” I asked, confused. A large arm reached out, pulling me into his embrace, his actions answering for him. The clock on the wall read midnight. Rico was clearly exhausted. I didn’t say another word, just carefully tucked the blanket around him and drifted off to sleep. It was the first time Rico and I had ever shared a bed. Surprisingly, I slept better than I had in months. The next morning, he was gone, already at the office. After I’d showered and eaten, I was planning to spend the morning lazing around in the garden when a visitor arrived. I recognized her immediately. Rico’s first love, Monica Ferguson. She was here to see me. She was the classic damsel-in-distress type, with a gentle, sweet demeanor, dressed in a flowing white dress. Mrs. Gable clearly knew her, calling her “Miss Monica.” In the garden, I sat on the swing while she stood by the fountain. “Miss Evans, my name is Monica Ferguson. I was Rico’s first love,” she began. “I came back to take care of some… unfinished business.” She took a deep breath. “I have terminal stomach cancer. I’m dying.” Her last sentence shattered my composure. A tragic soul. I got up and walked over to her, taking her hand in mine. “Miss Ferguson, you’ve misunderstood. Rico and I may be married, but we’re not in love. The person he loves has always been you.” She looked at me, a flicker of disbelief in her eyes. “Really?” “Really.” 3 During my first year of marriage to Rico, I discovered a room in the villa that was strictly off-limits to everyone. Not even Mrs. Gable, who had worked for the Thornes for over a decade, was allowed inside. One time, using the excuse of bringing him a plate of fruit, I managed to sneak a peek. My God. It was covered in photographs. An entire room, a shrine to one woman, from her high school days to the present. I later found out that woman was Monica Ferguson. They met in high school and dated for four years in college. Rico had once sworn he would marry no one else. But then, Monica left for another country, leaving him with nothing but a curt “we’re over.” For the first year after she left, Rico practically drowned himself in alcohol. Time eventually healed some of the wound, but his love for Monica never faded. The reason he’d picked me out of all the other candidates for his sham marriage? I had been wearing my hair in a high ponytail and was dressed in a white dress. Monica’s signature look. He chose me because I looked like her. Monica was even more surprised to hear this. “He sees you as my substitute? And you’re not angry about that?” I smiled. “I’m not in love with him. Why would I be angry? He provides the money, I provide my time. It’s a fair trade.” We were talking about nearly a million dollars. Most people couldn’t earn that in a lifetime. All I had to do was give up five years of my youth, without even selling my body. It was a steal! Thinking about it, my face fell into a worried expression. “But you came back early. I might not get the full amount now.” She was sharp. She got it instantly. “How much are you losing?” “Around three hundred thousand.” “I’ll give it to you.” My eyes lit up. Now that was an offer I couldn’t refuse! That was perfect. That night, I cooked an elaborate dinner for Rico. When he got home, I was waiting at the door, eagerly taking his coat. I pulled out his chair, placed a perfectly seared medium-rare steak in front of him, and poured him half a glass of red wine. Rico raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this?” I gestured for him to drink. He took a small sip. “You’ve gone to all this trouble. What are you after?” I cleared my throat. “Rico, I cheated on you.” In that instant, the villa became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The hand holding his wine glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. His lips pressed into a thin, hard line. He looked terrifying. My legs felt like jelly. “Rico… let’s get a divorce,” I managed to stammer out, getting to the point. His eyes darkened. After a long moment, he masked all emotion, methodically finished his steak, and even drank the rest of the wine. Then, he took my hand, his grip unyielding, and dragged me upstairs to the bedroom. He threw me onto the sofa, loosened his tie, and his voice was heavy. “So, for three hundred thousand dollars, you sold me out to Monica?” The air rushed out of my lungs. Damn it! He knew everything! Of course he did. This was his house. He must have eyes and ears everywhere. Oh God, did that mean he knew about all the times I’d badmouthed him behind his back? Whatever. That wasn’t important right now. I sat up straight. “Well, since you already know, I’ll drop the act. Monica’s back. A divorce is exactly what you want, isn’t it?” A vein throbbed in his temple. “Nora, why do you think I went to so much trouble to find you and bring you back?” “Isn’t it because I tricked you with the fake pregnancy, and you couldn’t stand being played?” I mumbled under my breath. In a flash, an impossible thought struck me. “Rico… you don’t actually like me, do you?” The room was dark, the lamps unlit. The night was like ink, with only the moonlight spilling through the windows, painting silver patterns on the floor. Half of Rico’s face was lost in the shadows, his expression unreadable. But his eyes held a strange, blazing light, a heat that threatened to drown me. I forced myself to look away, my voice turning cool. “We had a deal from the start. No one was supposed to fall in love.” It felt like an eternity passed before I heard his cold laugh, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine in the pitch-black room. “You’re overthinking it.” “The deal was for five years. That’s what I promised my grandfather. After five years, when I take full control of the company, then we can talk about divorce.” Rico disappeared for a long time after that. Monica never contacted me again. Once more, I was the enviable Mrs. Thorne. As my period approached, Mrs. Gable had already prepared a thermos of honey-sweetened ginger tea and left it on my nightstand. I smiled and thanked her, drinking the whole thing in one go. She seemed to want to say something, glancing towards Rico’s study several times, but ultimately remained silent. Rico stopped taking me shopping, stopped going on strolls with me, stopped taking me deep-sea fishing. He suddenly became incredibly busy, not coming home for months at a time. He was actively avoiding me. Ever since that day I told him no one was supposed to fall in love. It was for the best. Our marriage was a sham. Catching feelings would only lead to a devastating loss. But it was strange. The tea was sweet, but all I could taste was bitterness. 4 Rico’s birthday was approaching again. Time flew. It had been nearly a year since his last birthday, the one where I’d faked a pregnancy. This year’s party was being organized by his grandfather, the old Mr. Thorne himself. It was a massive affair, held at one of the family’s country estates, with a guest list a mile long. The evening of the party, Rico took me to a private couturier to pick out a dress and jewelry. The owner was a stunning blonde woman who, despite her looks, spoke with a flawless accent. “What style are you looking for?” she asked with a smile, taking my measurements. I thought for a moment. “Something elegant and respectable.” After all, I was Mrs. Thorne now. I had to look the part—graceful, dignified. I couldn’t embarrass him. But the woman looked me up and down, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “It’s Rico’s birthday. How about we try something… different?” When I stepped out in the red dress, Rico was on the phone by the window. He hung up, turned, and his eyes widened with an unmistakable flicker of awe. I looked at myself in the mirror. The woman staring back was a stranger. The dress was the color of fire, clinging to my curves. My hair was swept up, revealing the long, pale line of my neck. My waist was cinched, my legs looked impossibly long, and the neckline hinted at a cleavage I never knew I had. I had never seen myself look so… breathtaking. But the slit ran all the way up my thigh. I shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe I should change?” He didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked to a display of jewels and selected a ruby necklace. He came up behind me, his fingers brushing against my skin as he fastened the clasp. “No,” he said, his voice calm. “It’s perfect.” The rubies were dazzling, catching the light with every movement. The accidental graze of his fingertips on my neck sent a sudden, unexpected shiver through me. It tickled. When I entered the ballroom on Rico’s arm, every head turned. After three years with him, I was used to the stares. But this time, it wasn’t just the women. It was the men, too. Their gazes were different. “I thought Monica Ferguson was back. What’s she still doing here?” “I was sure he would have kicked her to the curb by now.” “Well, it has been three years. You can get attached to a dog in that time.” I’d heard variations of these comments for years. I thought I was immune, but a strange, unidentifiable emotion churned in my stomach. I tightened my grip on my champagne flute, telling myself to let it go. They were right, after all. I’d endured it for this long; what was one more year? One more year, and I could take my money, take my mom, and disappear somewhere no one knew us. “Mrs. Thorne.” I turned to see a man with a charming smile. I recognized him. Ethan Blackwood, Rico’s biggest rival. He clinked his glass against mine. “You look more beautiful every time I see you.” I smiled and thanked him. The next moment, he was draping his jacket over my shoulders. “But at an event like this, one must be mindful of their appearance.” Only then did I notice the looks. My bare shoulders, my back, the long expanse of my leg exposed by the slit—they were all targets. Most of the gazes were from men, and they were predatory, loaded with suggestion. I frowned, a wave of displeasure washing over me. Before I could say a word, a strong hand settled on my waist. Rico was beside me. He adjusted the necklace at my throat, his voice just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “My wife wears what she wants. That’s her right.” Ethan smiled smoothly. “I was merely offering a friendly suggestion. After all, I’m not the only one here who thinks so.” Rico’s gaze swept the room, and the other men quickly looked away. When titans clashed, the mortals knew to stay clear. “It’s the 21st century, Ethan,” Rico said, his voice laced with ice. “Are you still under the impression that women dress to please men?” Ethan shrugged. “I never said that.” Rico’s smile was thin and sharp. “Then why the hell are you telling my wife to be ‘mindful’? She can wear whatever she damn well pleases. Who do you think you are, judging a Thorne?” The room was utterly silent. Ethan, having been publicly humiliated, opened his mouth to retort, but Rico had already turned, leading me away. “Perhaps you should learn some basic respect, Ethan, before you try to lecture others.” Rico led me away from the crowd, finding a quiet balcony on the second floor. He stood there, frowning, not saying a word. The night wind was cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself. He took off his jacket and draped it over me. I pressed my lips together. “So you think this dress is too revealing, too?” A muscle twitched in Rico’s jaw. After a moment, he said, “Aren’t you cold?” …Right. He was the one who picked it out. “Why did you choose this dress for me?” “Because you look beautiful in it.” “But it’s so revealing. Everyone thought so.” Rico turned to face me, leaning against the railing, his eyes looking down at me. “I don’t think so,” he said softly. “You look beautiful. You look… sexy.” He paused, his gaze intense. “A flower is meant to bloom. If someone plucks it, it’s the fault of the one who plucked it.” “The flower itself is blameless.” A long, long time ago, my mother loved to dance. After dinner, she would put on her beautiful dance skirts and join the community group in the town square. The gossip spread like wildfire. They called her a flirt, wondering who she was trying to seduce, dressed like that every day. My father found out. To this day, I can still hear his words. “Dressing like that? You’re just asking for it.” After that, I threw away every pretty dress I owned. And now, here was someone, telling me with unwavering certainty. The flower is blameless. In that moment, as if bewitched, I took a step forward, tilted my head back, and looked up at him. “Rico, is your flower Monica?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. It was a long time before he answered. “She was.” “And now?”

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My boss got his heart broken. Gleefully, I took a screenshot to send to my best friend. Except, I accidentally sent it to him. A slow, deliberate question mark appeared in our chat. You’re here to laugh at me too? In a desperate bid to save my job, I typed with trembling fingers: No! I was just… worried. The drinking, the smoking… it’s so bad for you. It hurts me to see you like this. His reply came back. Sorry. I’m not a homewrecker. Then: You should give up now. Ten minutes passed. That said… wanna see my abs? Just finished a workout. 1 It was Valentine’s Day. To celebrate, I’d posted a photoshopped picture of myself with my celebrity crush. “Our third year together,” I captioned it. Less than half an hour later, the main company group chat exploded. A new rule had just been announced: no one was allowed to take leave on Valentine’s Day. The collective groan was almost audible. We all scurried over to our private group chat. Mark the secretary said it was a last-minute decision from the boss. Rumor has it, the boss got dumped. A guy like Richard Cohan can get dumped? Seriously? You know, thinking about a guy with a face like Richard’s being miserable over love makes my own romantic failures feel a little less tragic. Work was forgotten. Everyone was buzzing, trying to figure out who this mystery woman was—the one who had dared to break the heart of our office’s resident ice king, Richard Cohan. Someone tagged me: @Lily, don’t you have the boss on your personal chat? Check his feed! I played it cool. Can’t see anything. He probably has me blocked or something. In reality, my fingers were already flying, tapping open Richard’s profile. He had posted a single, devastating line: “Why does she still love that other man? It’s true. I’m just not enough for her.” His location tag was a downtown cocktail lounge. So, it was true. He really had been dumped. My gossip-loving heart couldn’t resist. I screenshotted the post to send to my best friend for a proper dissection. The moment I hit send, my supervisor dropped a file on my desk, needing my immediate attention. I shoved my phone away, putting on my best “diligent employee” face. When she finally left, a notification lit up my screen. My smile vanished. I had sent the screenshot to Richard himself. Richard Cohan: ??? Richard Cohan: They’re all laughing at me. Richard Cohan: You’re here to laugh at me too? His words were dripping with a raw, wounded vulnerability. My blood ran cold. Richard Cohan: Lily. What exactly is the meaning of this? It was over. I was so fired. Scrambling to save my job, I hammered out a reply: No! I was just… worried. The drinking, the smoking… it’s so bad for you. It hurts me to see you like this. I added another for good measure: You have to take care of yourself, Mr. Cohan! Because who else is going to give me this dream job with its six-figure salary, 10-to-5 hours, triple overtime, and weekends off? The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared. I held my breath. Richard Cohan: I’m sorry, I don’t get involved with taken women. Richard Cohan: You should give up now. I stared at the screen, utterly baffled. Had the breakup fried his brain? Was he mixing me up with his ex-girlfriend? Ten minutes crawled by. Richard Cohan: That said… wanna see my abs? Just finished a workout. The phone felt like it was burning a hole in my hand. A coworker walked by, and I guiltily shoved it into my pocket, my heart pounding. 2 It wasn’t until I got home that I realized my phone screen had never locked. In my pocket, my leg had accidentally sent Richard Cohan about eight hundred “I want you” stickers from my spiciest collection. At first, his replies were professionally horrified. Lily, I am your boss. I expect you to respect our professional boundaries. I would like to keep our relationship strictly work-related. But after the relentless digital assault of winking emojis and suggestive memes, he seemed to have surrendered. Fine. Whatever makes you happy. But I don’t want a third person knowing about… this. My dignity is on the line here. Half an hour had passed since his last message. He was waiting for my response. I was crouched by the elevator in my apartment building, trying to formulate a reply that wouldn’t get me fired or committed. My next-door neighbor appeared, walking his dog. “Late night, Lily?” I nodded mournfully. Another night of overtime. The pay was great, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. “You work so hard, and the pay’s good, right?” he said with a cheerful smile. “You must have a nice little nest egg saved up.” I… His Golden Retriever, still buzzing with post-walk energy, chose that exact moment to barrel into me. I stumbled, and my phone went flying. Before I could react, the dog snatched it up in his mouth, and the chase was on. An hour later, I finally wrestled the slobber-covered, thoroughly chewed device from the jaws of the furry demon. My neighbor was mortified. “My boy is a menace! I’m so sorry, Lily, let me pay for the damages. Double!” Well, if he insisted. I “tearfully” accepted the money transfer. The good news: the phone still turned on. The bad news: it had developed a mind of its own. It was possessed. When I wanted it to go left, it veered right with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Richard had been waiting. He nudged me again. Lily, do you agree or not? I’ve been thinking, and this whole situation is completely ridiculous. It’s beneath my station. If anyone found out, what would they think of me? Can you imagine? … This is… my first time. … If you’re not going to agree, just say so. To be honest, I’m not that into the idea anyway. I’m not that kind of person. … Why are you leaving me on read? I can see you’re typing! … Fine, if you don’t agree, that’s okay. But you can’t tell anyone! Promise me! I tried to type “I DON’T AGREE.” But the cursed phone had other plans. It clattered out a response of its own accord. Sent: I agree. Oh, hell no. I frantically mashed the “unsend” button. The possessed device responded by firing off a volley of kissy-face emojis. A full minute passed before Richard sent a cool, detached, “Okay.” My phone wasn’t finished. It sent another barrage. Richard Cohan: …It’s only the first day. Are you sure about this? I’m a very traditional person. I don’t want to move this fast. I’ve never really dated before. What’s the first step? Then, in a moment of pure, unadulterated horror, I watched as my phone automatically sent him a sticker of a cartoon character suggestively wiggling its eyebrows with the caption: “Wanna do it?” Richard seemed genuinely stunned into silence. Finally, a pained message appeared: You’re so thirsty, Lily. That was it. In a fit of rage, I chucked the phone straight into the water-filled bathroom sink. If I’m going down, you’re coming with me! 3 The next morning, I crept into the office like a wanted fugitive. “Hey, did they cancel the morning meeting?” I asked a coworker, feigning casual curiosity. “Yeah,” she said. “The boss called in sick.” A wave of relief so profound it nearly buckled my knees washed over me. Perfect. I could play dumb for another day. My phone was at the repair shop, and the tech had promised it would be fixed by the evening, so I hadn’t bothered buying a new one. I had no idea what Richard’s final messages might have been. Just then, my supervisor appeared. “Lily, I need you to run this file over to the hospital for Mr. Cohan to sign. It’s urgent.” My carefully constructed calm shattered. I stood outside his hospital room, my hand hovering over the door, unable to bring myself to knock. “Lily?” It was Mark, Richard’s secretary, holding a container of what looked like porridge. My expression was a mess of panic and guilt, but an idea sparked. “Mark! I’m just here to get a signature from Mr. Cohan. Since you’re here—” “—Perfect!” Mark cut me off, practically shoving the porridge into my hands. “I just got called away on an emergency. Can you give this to him for me?” He moved with the speed of a man escaping a burning building. Before vanishing down the hall, he helpfully knocked on the door. “Mr. Cohan! Lily’s here to see you!” A cool, flat voice drifted from inside. “Oh.” I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, my steps hesitant and small. The man in the hospital bed turned his head, and his gaze was like ice. “Good morning, Mr. Cohan,” I squeaked. Richard’s expression was a mask of pure accusation. “It’s not good at all.” I froze. After a long, tense silence, he spoke again, his voice laced with melodrama. “Are you just going to stand there and let me starve to death… girlfriend?” My hand trembled as I offered him the porridge. “Mr. Cohan, about last night… I need about ten minutes to explain everything.” Richard was genuinely hungry. He focused on the food, not even looking up. “Go on,” he said between spoonfuls. “Let’s hear your tall tale.” Ten minutes later, I finished my frantic explanation. “…and that’s what happened. I didn’t send any of those things,” I concluded, sitting ramrod straight, cautiously watching his expression. A strange, unreadable smile flickered across his lips. “So you don’t have a boyfriend?” I shook my head vigorously. “That picture was of an indie singer I’ve been a fan of for years. He’s not famous, so people get the wrong idea all the time.” Realizing I was getting sidetracked, I leaned forward earnestly. “The point is, Mr. Cohan, I wasn’t screenshotting your post to make fun of you! I swear, my loyalty to you is unshakable!” Richard slowly, deliberately wiped his hands with a napkin. “So, let me get this straight. You just happened to screenshot my post and send it to me. Then, under duress, you said all those things. Then, a dog just happened to steal your phone, which just happened to break in a way that just happened to send me a confession of love?” My eyes were wide and sincere. I nodded firmly. “Exactly, Mr. Cohan. That’s precisely what happened.” The misunderstanding was cleared. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he let out a cold laugh. “Lily, do I look like an idiot?” Tears of frustration welled in my eyes as I shook my head. He then launched into a one-sided tirade. “Do you have any idea how long I waited outside your apartment building last night?” My voice was a whisper. “Why… why didn’t you just come up?” He shot me a glare. “In what capacity? Was I supposed to announce myself as your accidental, digitally-coerced… whatever I am?” He had a point. “And do you know how cold it got? The temperature dropped! It was freezing!” Richard was genuinely upset now. “Do you even have a heart?” I glanced at him, a stupid internet meme popping into my head. “So… can I buy you a beer?” 4 I was kicked out of the room. Richard said he needed to be alone. He told me to go stand in a corner somewhere. That evening, I got my phone back and immediately opened our chat history. Richard’s initial reactions to the “Wanna do it?” sticker were exactly as prim and proper as I’d expected. Lily, I must insist you conduct yourself with some decorum. I am not that kind of person. That was definitely him. I remembered when he first started, his regular secretary wasn’t available, so I filled in for a while. I handed him a cup of coffee once, and our fingers brushed for a split second. He blushed to the roots of his hair. “My apologies,” he’d stammered. Another time, I noticed his shirt cuff was unbuttoned. Out of habit, I reached over to fix it. He snatched his arm back as if he’d been burned. “I… I can get it,” he said, not meeting my eyes. And then there was the time he had a late-night work dinner and his driver had an emergency. I was sent to pick him up. I found him squatting by the curb, looking dazed. He just stared at me for a long time. The next day, he issued a formal memo: “For safety reasons, female employees should not be assigned to late-night pick-ups.” Richard Cohan was a true gentleman, with the patience of a saint. Which didn’t stop him from being incredibly demanding when it came to work. Because of this, many of us had become immune to his handsome face. Myself included. A while back, at a company retreat, with Richard thankfully absent, things got a little wild. The questions were all about him. “Lily,” someone asked me, “if you went on a blind date and it turned out to be the boss, what would you do?” “Run,” I said without hesitation. “Run for the hills.” “He’s a great guy, but he’s my boss,” I continued, warming up to my topic. “Who in their right mind develops feelings for their boss? I mean, am I that desperate for a man? It’s never going to happen. Not in this lifetime. Even if he were a literal angel descended from heaven.” I was on a roll, completely oblivious to the fact that the subject of my rant was standing right behind me, having heard every single word. As he walked away, he paused and asked, his voice quiet, “Am I really that repulsive to you?” The memory made me cringe. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and continued scrolling through our chat. The further I went, the more my jaw tightened. Richard’s last message was from 1:00 AM. Come downstairs. I’ll let you have one kiss. But that’s it. We are not sleeping together. And I… I had been sound asleep, leaving him out in the cold all night. My heart sank. I carefully typed and re-typed my message. Mr. Cohan, please rest assured that our… situation… will remain a complete secret. So, could we please just pretend none of this ever happened? He didn’t reply directly. Instead, a new post appeared on his feed. It was a photo of his hand, an IV drip taped to the back of it. The caption: “In the end, I bear it all alone.” A pang of guilt hit me. I quickly sent another message: Please take care of yourself. I’ll come visit you again soon… He replied instantly. When is soon? You know I’m a very busy man. Never mind. I have a business meeting near your place anyway. I suppose I can spare a few minutes to wait for you. Come downstairs. … And that is how I found myself, clad in my fluffiest ten-dollar pajamas, sneaking into a ridiculously luxurious Rolls-Royce parked on my street corner. The moment I got in, I was struck by Richard’s face. He was dressed in a bespoke suit, his shoes polished to a mirror shine. From head to toe, he radiated an aura of refined elegance. No wonder those romance novel heroes were always saying, “You can’t even compare to a single strand of her hair.” I suddenly felt incredibly underdressed. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Richard was still clearly sick, ducking his head to cough a few times. The effort sent a flush of color to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. I felt a little bad for him. “You look handsome even when you’re sick, Mr. Cohan,” I said, my honesty tinged with a bit of exaggeration. “It’s like a romance novel hero walked right off the page.” A flicker of shyness crossed his eyes. “Oh? What kind of novels do you read?” My brain outpaced my mouth. “The gay kind.” Richard… was speechless. 6 The next day at work, Mark, the secretary, called in sick. The boss needed a temporary replacement. My coworkers’ hands shot up around me. I pretended to be deaf, dumb, and blind. Then, in the act of swatting at a fly, my arm shot up, and my supervisor’s eyes locked onto me. “Lily! So eager! The job is yours.” I… what? Later, she explained. “You’ve assisted Mr. Cohan before, so you’re familiar with his work style. You’re the best fit.” My main issue was the fresh layer of awkwardness between Richard and me. Then my supervisor added, “I hear it comes with a five-thousand-dollar monthly bonus.” I grabbed her hand. “You have absolutely chosen the right person for the job!” That afternoon, I moved my things to the office adjacent to the boss’s. Being his direct report felt… kind of awesome. While he was out, I took the opportunity to slack off. I saw Mark had updated his social media. It was a nine-photo grid of stunning ocean views. “The feeling of a triple-paid vacation is just unbeatable! I’m voting for Richard Cohan for chairman for life!” Confused, I commented: Mark, are you feeling better? A second later, the post vanished. A private message from Mark popped up: You saw wrong. That was a picture from the hospital. I’m finding joy in my sorrow. It’s, you know, abstract art. I couldn’t really argue with that. Well, take care of yourself, I replied. Mark: Lily, you have to be good to the boss. He’s really been through a lot! 7 Richard had been hospitalized for a severe case of the flu. He only stayed one day before throwing himself back into work, still clearly unwell. He stood by the window in his overcoat, occasionally coughing into his fist. The back of his hand was still bruised from the IV. He looked fragile, windswept, and tragically beautiful. My guilt intensified when I saw the gossip flying in the private group chat: I heard the boss stood outside his ex-girlfriend’s apartment all night trying to win her back. That’s how he got so sick. I heard he was a sickly child, basically grew up on medication. A simple cold could take years off his life. I heard a psychic told his family he wouldn’t live past twenty-five. So that’s what Mark meant by “he’s been through a lot.” I was overcome with a mixture of guilt and pity. That evening, my attitude was one of extreme solicitude. After parking the car, I grabbed the new scarf I’d bought and an umbrella. I practically sprinted to his side. Richard looked pleasantly surprised, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “What are you doing here?” “I’m worried you’ll get colder,” I said, instructing him to lower his head. He complied obediently. As he leaned down, I caught the faint, clean scent of antiseptic. “Mark’s sick, so I’ve been assigned as his temporary replacement.” “Oh, by the way, Mr. Cohan, what’s wrong with Mark? It sounds pretty serious.” I mean, they wouldn’t have me fill in for a whole month otherwise. Richard averted his gaze, stammering slightly. “I’m not sure. A broken bone, I think. Somewhere.” I didn’t press it. Richard’s house wasn’t far. During the thirty-minute drive, I tried my best to make conversation, carefully avoiding the topic of his love life. “Mr. Cohan, what made you decide to come manage this branch office?” This was just one of many subsidiaries of the Cohan Corporation. When news broke that the heir apparent was coming to take over, everyone was shocked. I was shocked for another reason entirely—his name was identical to a person from my past. He was reading a document but looked up at my question. “Fate, I suppose.” “Well, it’s a wonderful fate,” I said sincerely. “I love this fate.” If Richard hadn’t come and completely overhauled the company’s benefits package, I would have quit long ago.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384773”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel