My best friend, Jessica, and I were given a choice between two “Systems.” One was a “Spend & Earn” system, the other, a “Frugal Living” system. In my last life, she chose spending, and I chose saving. She was consumed by an endless cycle of purchases and died from exhaustion. I became a secret millionaire. At my wedding, her parents stormed in, screaming and attacking me. “You venomous witch! You murdered our daughter!” Then I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the choice. Jessica spoke first, her voice thick with a venomous exhaustion I knew all too well. “I choose… the Frugal Living system.” 1. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [Host Jessica has selected the “Frugal Living” system. Binding in progress…] [Remaining system: “Spend & Earn.” Bind to Host Carol?] I looked at Jessica across from me. She was skeletal, her eyes sunken deep into their sockets as if she’d just crawled out of hell itself. But those eyes burned with a frightening intensity, a twisted, vengeful glee. She thought she had just passed her death sentence on to me. She thought she had stolen my golden ticket to a perfect life. “Bind it,” I said, my voice even. The triumphant smirk on Jessica’s face froze before it could fully bloom. The panic, the fear, the breakdown she had been anticipating—none of it came. I was as calm as a placid lake. [“Spend & Earn” system successfully bound. Issuing Novice Mission: Host must spend $10,000 within 24 hours. Mission success: receive a $10,000 rebate. Mission failure: instant death.] Almost simultaneously, Jessica’s own system pinged in her head. She flinched, her hands flying to her ears as a flash of pain crossed her face. I knew her novice mission. [Novice Mission: Earn one dollar through acts of saving within 24 hours. Mission success: receive a two-dollar reward. Mission failure: The system will confiscate the host’s most cherished possession.] Last time, that mission had driven me to the brink of madness. But now, a confident, predatory smile spread across Jessica’s lips. She rose from her chair, walked to the window, and flicked off the unnecessary lights in the room. [Ding! Saved $0.02 on electricity.] Next, she moved to the water cooler and yanked the plug from the wall. [Ding! Saved $0.05 on electricity.] She looked at me as if I were already a corpse. “Good luck, Carol.” I ignored her. I pulled out my phone, opened a food delivery app, and found the most expensive sushi restaurant in the city. Sashimi platters, sea urchin, Wagyu beef… I tapped my screen relentlessly, filling my cart until the subtotal was a breathtaking $9,888. Then, I navigated to the tip section and entered $112. Total: $10,000. Jessica watched me, a sneer twisting her lips. “A desperate last struggle. Carol, don’t you get it? The rebate has to be spent in the next 24 hours. You spend ten thousand today, you’ll have to spend twenty tomorrow, then forty the day after! Let’s see how long you last!” I said nothing, just waited quietly for my delivery. Half an hour later, a breathless delivery driver arrived, hauling several large insulated containers. I took them and met his tired eyes. “Thank you for your hard work,” I said. “This… it’s all for you.” The driver stared, convinced he’d misheard. “Huh? Ma’am, what did you say?” “It’s for you,” I repeated gently. “Consider it a small thank you to everyone working late tonight.” With that, I closed the door. From outside, I could hear the driver’s stunned, grateful thanks. From inside, I heard Jessica’s disbelieving shriek. “Are you insane?! You just gave away ten thousand dollars’ worth of food!” I turned to her and smiled. She didn’t understand. This system was never designed to kill the spenders. It was designed to kill the selfish. 2. The color drained from Jessica’s face. She couldn’t comprehend how I could give away something worth $10,000 so easily. In her eyes, it was the same as throwing my own life away. I had no intention of explaining it to her. [Ding! Novice Mission complete. Reward of $10,000 has been deposited into the system account.] [New Mission Issued: Spend $20,000 within 24 hours. Mission success: receive a $20,000 rebate. Mission failure: instant death.] I opened my system interface, my balance a perfect $10,000. Meanwhile, Jessica’s system chimed as well. [Ding! Novice Mission complete. Reward of two dollars has been deposited.] I saw the muscles in her jaw twitch. Two dollars. After all her fussing—turning off lights, unplugging appliances, denying herself water just to save a few more cents—her grand reward was two dollars. I had earned ten thousand with a few taps on my phone. Her eyes bored into me, the jealousy so palpable it was practically a physical force. “Don’t get cocky, Carol! This is just the beginning!” she hissed through gritted teeth. “The more you spend, the faster you’ll die!” I shrugged, picking up my phone and starting to browse online. This time, I didn’t order food. I found a local, no-kill animal shelter on a charity app. They were on the verge of closing down. Their page listed hundreds of cats and dogs, along with a long, heartbreaking list of outstanding debts. Rent for their facility, food costs, veterinary bills… the total came to just over $20,000. I contacted the director, verified the information, and transferred the full amount. The woman on the other end of the line broke down, sobbing with relief. She kept asking for my name, wanting to put up a plaque in my honor. “There’s no need,” I told her. “Just make sure they all get a good meal.” When I hung up, Jessica was staring at me as if I’d grown a second head. “You… you donated it? Again?” “I did.” “What are you playing at?” Her voice rose, sharp and shrill. “You know something, don’t you? You came back, too! You were reborn!” I met her gaze, my expression unreadable. Her face went deathly pale. A profound, soul-deep terror seized her. If I was also reborn, then her act of “stealing” the Frugal Living system was nothing but a cosmic joke. She hadn’t just picked the short straw; she’d thrown away a lifeline and grabbed a noose. In my last life, I had used the saving system to build a fortune, compounding my earnings until I was a millionaire. She thought that was the easy path. But she’d forgotten what that path entailed. She’d forgotten how I walked three miles under a blazing sun to save two dollars on bus fare; how I lived on plain instant ramen to shave a few dollars off my food budget; how I lowered my standard of living again and again, pushing myself into misery just to get the system’s doubled rewards. That path was its own kind of hell. And Jessica? A spoiled princess, coddled since birth. Could she really endure it? 3. Jessica left in a daze, utterly shattered. She needed time to process the terrifying reality that I, too, had a second chance. I, on the other hand, began planning my grand “spending” strategy. The reason the “Spend & Earn” system killed Jessica in our last life was because of how she spent. Handbags, sports cars, luxury goods. All those things did was feed her vanity. They had no real value. Besides, there’s a limit to what one person can consume. When the spending requirement skyrockets from tens of thousands to millions, you can’t possibly eat ten million dollars’ worth of food or wear ten million dollars’ worth of clothes in 24 hours. She literally worked herself to death trying to keep up. But the definition of “spending” is broad. Purchasing services, technology, talent—that’s also spending. After my $20,000 mission, the system gave me another $20,000. The next mission: spend $40,000 in 24 hours. I opened my laptop and searched for a name: James Hayes. In my past life, I met him at a tech investment summit after I’d made my fortune. He became my husband. A man who loved me more than money. By then, he was already a successful entrepreneur, sophisticated and charming. But in this timeline, at this moment, he would be a brilliant but broke student hitting one wall after another. I found his information easily. A prodigy from Kingston University’s Computer Science department, a junior, working with a few classmates to develop a revolutionary social media app. The project had incredible potential, but a lack of funding had brought them to the brink of collapse. I looked at the photo on the screen, his face still holding the soft edges of youth, and my heart warmed. That was him. I found his contact information and sent a short text. “Mr. Hayes, my name is Carol. I’m an angel investor, and I’m very interested in your project. Are you available to talk?” The message went out into the void. I wasn’t worried. I closed my laptop and prepared to head out. I had a more direct way of completing my $40,000 mission. I took a cab to the city’s largest bullion exchange. In her past life, Jessica had tried buying gold. But she went to luxury jewelry stores, paying exorbitant, fixed prices for pieces with massive markups. I walked straight to the counter that dealt only in raw materials. “Hello, I’d like to buy gold bars. What’s the spot price today?” “Good afternoon, ma’am. The raw price is $2,000 an ounce.” “Perfect. I’ll take twenty ounces.” Exactly $40,000. I swiped my card, signed the papers, and the heavy gold bars were in my hand, their cold, metallic weight a solid promise. [Ding! Spending mission complete. Reward of $40,000 has been deposited.] [New Mission Issued: Spend $80,000 within 24 hours.] Just as I slipped the gold into my purse, my phone rang. An unknown number. I answered. A cool, clear male voice, laced with a hint of caution, came through the line. “Hello, is this Ms. Carol? This is James Hayes.” 4. I met James at a coffee shop near the Kingston University campus. He was already there when I arrived, sitting by the window in a worn-out white button-down, the cheapest Americano on the menu before him. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting him in a clean, almost aloof aura. He was so much younger and thinner than the man I remembered. He stood up when he saw me, a little awkwardly. “Ms. Carol, hello.” “Just Carol is fine,” I said with a smile, taking the seat across from him. He seemed surprised by my age, hesitating for a second before sitting back down. “Carol… hi. You said you were interested in my project?” he asked, getting straight to the point, his tone laced with disbelief. I nodded. “I am. I read your project proposal. It’s incredibly innovative. I’m especially bullish on your concept of ‘interest-based social circles.’” A flicker of light sparked in his eyes, but it died just as quickly. “Thank you. But we’re… we’re out of money.” “How much do you need?” He held up five fingers, the words catching in his throat. “Five hundred thousand. That’s the bare minimum for seed funding.” Five hundred thousand dollars. To me, that was just a spending mission a few days from now. But I couldn’t just hand it to him. “I can invest,” I said. James’s head shot up, his eyes shining with a joy he couldn’t contain. “Really?!” “On one condition,” I added, my tone shifting. His expression hardened again. “What condition?” “I want to use that half a million to buy the exclusive first rights to all research, development, and patents your team produces for the next year.” It was an aggressive, almost predatory offer. I was essentially buying a year of a genius team’s future for a fraction of its potential worth. If they created something world-changing, I would be the primary beneficiary. James fell silent. He looked down, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. I was making a bet. A bet on his confidence in his own talent, and a bet on how desperate his situation was. Finally, he looked up, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through my skin. “Why?” he asked, his voice low. “Why what?” “Why do this? You don’t exactly seem like the charitable type.” His eyes searched mine, trying to unravel the mystery. I laughed. “Because I need a way to spend money.” I wasn’t lying. The amounts required by my system would only grow larger. Shopping and donations would eventually hit a ceiling. But investing in a tech company—buying their technology, their equipment, their patents, even paying their salaries—was the perfect, legitimate channel for “spending.” I was building the road for my own future. James clearly didn’t understand. He frowned, looking like he thought I was mocking him. Just then, the coffee shop door swung open and a young woman, dressed head-to-toe in designer brands, strode in. She marched directly to our table, looking down her nose at James with pure derision. “James, are you still at it? Scrounging for investors again? Who in their right mind would fund that dead-end project of yours?” Her gaze then shifted to me, sizing me up with a dismissive sneer. “Oh, and you found a young, pretty one this time. Honey, a word of advice: stay away from this broke loser. All he’s good for is selling empty promises.” It was Brittany, James’s ex-girlfriend. The same woman who, in our last life, had looked down on him, only to be consumed by regret later. James’s face flushed a deep crimson. He clenched his fists. “Brittany, this is my business. It has nothing to do with you!” “How does it not?” Brittany scoffed. “I’m just trying to keep this poor girl from being scammed by you!” She pulled a card from her purse and slapped it on the table. “See this, honey? This is what a real man gives a woman. Not a cheap cup of coffee and a pile of fantasies.” I glanced at the black card but said nothing. Brittany, thinking she’d stunned me into silence, grew even more smug. “I came here to tell you, James, that I’m getting engaged to Preston Vance next week. You know the Vances, right? Their family is worth hundreds of millions. You’ll never be in my league.” The blood drained from James’s face, leaving him pale and shaken. I sighed and took out my wallet. Then, right in front of them, I fanned out a whole stack of cards. Black cards, platinum cards, unlimited cards… an arsenal of elite credit, gleaming under the cafe lights. I spread them on the table like a winning poker hand. Then I looked up at the dumbfounded Brittany and asked with a sweet smile, “Which of these did you say a man is supposed to give a woman?” “Are these enough?” 5. Brittany’s face cycled through shades of red and white, a kaleidoscope of humiliation. She stared at the blinding array of cards on the table, utterly speechless. James was just as stunned, his gaze fixed on me, a complex mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. Ignoring Brittany, I gathered my cards and turned back to James. “I accept your terms,” he said abruptly, his voice hoarse but firm. “Five hundred thousand, for one year of first rights to our work. You draw up the contract.” “Done,” I nodded. With my goal accomplished, I stood to leave. As I passed Brittany, I paused and leaned in. “Not everything can be measured in money,” I murmured. “Like a man’s potential. Or his heart.” Without a backward glance, I walked out of the coffee shop. I still had an $80,000 spending mission to complete. I went to the most exclusive mall in the city, bypassing the women’s boutiques and heading straight for the high-end menswear department on the top floor. I bought James several proper outfits: crisp shirts, tailored suits, silk ties, cufflinks. I chose them all based on my memory of his sizes from our previous life. The total came to just over $70,000. With the remaining few thousand, I bought my parents each a new state-of-the-art massage chair. The moment the last transaction went through: [Ding! Spending mission complete. Reward of $80,000 has been deposited.] [New Mission Issued: Spend $160,000 within 24 hours.] When I arrived home, laden with shopping bags, Jessica was sitting in the living room. On the coffee table in front of her was a bowl of plain, watery noodles. Not even a single piece of vegetable. She was wasting away, her cheekbones jutting out sharply, a deathly aura clinging to her. Her eyes, however, lit up with a familiar spark of jealousy when she saw my bags, which quickly morphed into schadenfreude. “On another shopping spree? I’ve got to hand it to you, Carol. Staring death in the face, and you still have the energy to dress up your new boy toy.” She’d already found out about James. I set my things down, ignoring her. “You know,” she said, talking to herself as much as to me, her voice like poison. “I haven’t left the house in two days. Not a single step. Because going out costs money. I eat this every day. Plain boiled noodles. One meal a day. That way, I save fifty dollars on food and at least ten on transportation. The system rewards me with one hundred and twenty dollars!” She looked up at me, a grotesque grin spreading across her face. “See? I’m clearing a hundred and twenty dollars a day. That’s thirty-six hundred a month. Over forty thousand a year! It won’t be long before I’m richer than you, Carol!” I looked at her like she was a lunatic. She had turned herself into a prisoner for a measly $120 a day. This was her “golden ticket”? “Guess what my mission is for today,” I asked her suddenly. She blinked. I opened my phone, pulled up the system interface, and held the screen out for her to see. [New Mission: Spend $160,000 within 24 hours.] Jessica’s pupils constricted into pinpricks. One hundred and sixty thousand dollars. An amount that would take her three and a half years to save, even if she starved herself to death. And all I had to do was spend it in 24 hours. The chasm between our realities hit her like a physical blow. She shot up from the couch, knocking over the bowl of noodles. Broth and limp pasta splattered across the floor. “Impossible! That’s impossible!” she screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria. “The system is broken! It has to be!” I watched her meltdown with cold calm. “It’s not broken, Jessica,” I said. “You are. From the very beginning, you made the wrong choice.”

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My best friend Claire constantly uses me to test her boyfriend’s loyalty. She sends him suggestive messages from my account, orders lingerie in my name, then gets a thrill watching him shut me down and declare devotion to her. This time, she invited me to dinner and had her boyfriend Julian serve me food while she watched with a sly smile. I was mortified—until comments flickered in my vision: [Here we go again. The rich protagonist uses our girl because she’s insecure the male lead actually loves the side character.] [She even sabotaged her scholarship and ‘sponsored’ her to stay close.] [Sienna, just eat the food. Use this guy to climb up. Let’s see who laughs last.] 1 It took me a long moment to process what I’d just read. I had never, not for a second, imagined that the anonymous tip that cost me my scholarship all those years ago had come from my best friend. For years, I had been profoundly grateful to Claire. When I had nowhere else to turn, she paid for my education. I considered her my truest friend. Even after I paid back every cent, I continued to do everything in my power to repay her kindness. No matter how absurd her schemes to test Julian were, I would grit my teeth through his condescending glares and humiliating remarks, sending those degrading messages for her. I told her again and again that she and Julian were childhood sweethearts, that he was with her because he loved her. But she refused to believe it. She would move heaven and earth to test him, needing to see that cold rejection in his eyes before she could be satisfied. Before coming here tonight, I had been so excited. I thought that since it was my birthday, Claire’s dinner invitation was a surprise party. Turns out, she’d just found another online trick to test her boyfriend, and I was the sacrificial lamb yet again. 2 Seeing my stunned silence, a flicker of triumph danced in Claire’s eyes. She leaned against Julian, her voice a casual, airy purr. “Sienna, sweetie, go ahead and eat. Julian already put it on your plate. I don’t mind.” She said she didn’t mind, but her eyes were glued to my chopsticks, terrified I might actually take a bite. The comments scrolling past my eyes were furious. [Look at her pretending. Her eyes are practically burning a hole in that plate. I’d love to see her keep smiling if our girl actually eats it.] [Sienna, baby, let’s be brave. Can we please stop being her free pawn?] [Eat it! Eat it all! Shovel it in right in front of him! Our girl needs to piss this pampered princess off for good!] I looked at Claire’s innocent, doll-like face, then thought of the scholarship she’d stolen from me, of all the times she’d played me like a fool. My grip on my chopsticks tightened. She loves testing Julian’s feelings for her, doesn’t she? She loves testing to see if I have any designs on her boyfriend, right? Fine. I’ll help her out. Snapping back to the present, I deliberately picked up the piece of asparagus he had placed on my plate. I covered my mouth with one hand, my voice a breath of feigned surprise. “Oh, sweetie, how did Julian know asparagus is my absolute favorite? You must have told him. You’re the best, Claire.” With that, I turned to Julian and gave him a brilliant smile. “Well, in that case, I won’t be shy. Thank you, Julian.” 3 The effect was instantaneous. The smile froze on Claire’s lips. I had just made up the asparagus thing, but she bought it completely, believing Julian had ordered it specifically for me. Her lips thinned into a pale line, and her fingers dug into his shoulder, knuckles white. After all these years, I knew that look. It was the quiet simmering of rage. After finishing the bite, I turned to her with deliberate concern. “Honey, are you feeling alright? You look so pale. Should we get you to a doctor?” Her expression flickered through a storm of emotions. She was seething but couldn’t show it, forced to swallow her anger and maintain her magnanimous facade. “No, I’m fine, Sienna. If you like it, have more,” she said, her voice tight. “My hands were just full a second ago, that’s why I asked him to help. Julian is always so thoughtful, looking out for my friends and me. Don’t get the wrong idea, though.” The ghostly comments were rolling their eyes so hard they could have powered a generator, repeating that last phrase: Don’t get the wrong idea, though. [YES! This is what I’m talking about! Sienna should have been calling her out like this from the start!] [That two-faced little princess. Weren’t you the one who just told her to eat it?] [Oh dear, why isn’t the little princess smiling anymore? I thought you didn’t mind? What happened to that happy face?] [She only ever pulls these petty tricks on people who care about her. If Sienna ever decided to actually fight back, Claire wouldn’t stand a chance.] [Look, look! The male lead’s expression shifted! I think his opinion of our girl is changing. He used to think her hesitation was a ploy to seduce him, but now that she’s being so open and direct, he’s the one who’s flustered.] Following the comments’ cue, I glanced at Julian. The face that had always been a mask of icy disdain toward me now showed the faintest crack. For years, he had never given me a single pleasant look. After every one of Claire’s tests, he would flash his girlfriend a weary but indulgent smile, then turn to me with a cold warning. “Sienna, whatever your goal is, I suggest you stop. Claire is sensitive. As her friend, you should know where the line is.” His words were always blunt, painfully clear. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a manipulative social climber. But faced with Claire’s silent, pleading eyes, I had swallowed my pride time and time again. I even lost a promotion I had earned because Vice President Julian was prejudiced against me. That being the case, there’s nothing wrong with me taking back what’s mine, right? 4 I offered a soft smile, ready to rip away Claire’s paper-thin veil of innocence. “Of course not. What else would you want me to think, Claire? I know Julian is a master of boundaries. You’re the one who shouldn’t overthink things.” Claire looked as if she had just swallowed a fly. Julian, finally catching on, realized Claire’s sweet request for him to serve me was just another one of her games. He was already swamped with a new project, and the little time he’d managed to carve out for dinner was being wasted on yet another one of her loyalty tests. He slammed his palm on the table. “That’s enough, Claire,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “How many times are we going to do this? When is this ridiculous charade going to end?” He rarely got this angry, especially not in front of others. Seeing his thunderous expression, Claire knew she’d gone too far. She grabbed his arm, her voice laced with panic. “Julian, it’s not like that! My hands were just… my new manicure… I just couldn’t serve her myself. I thought… you’re my boyfriend, and she’s my best friend. I didn’t think either of you would mind.” [Right. That fresh manicure is so inconvenient.] [The nerve of her, calling Sienna her ‘best friend.’ You don’t even remember your ‘best friend’s’ birthday.] [Some best friend. Sabotaging her scholarship, hiring someone to do her makeup badly, spreading rumors to make yourself look better?] [Sienna, honey, her boyfriend is the most important thing to her, right? The thing she uses you to test day in and day out? Just take him. Let’s see how she keeps up her act then.] [Normally I’m against pitting women against each other, but with a ‘friend’ this toxic, I fully support Sienna using him to get that promotion and a raise! A true leading lady doesn’t avoid men; she steps on them to get to the top.] My gaze shifted from the floating comments back to the tense couple across from me. I had lit the fuse. Mistrust was already creeping in, and a full-blown argument was imminent. My work here was done. It was my birthday, after all. I wasn’t about to let someone so toxic ruin it. Grabbing my bag, I stood up, my voice dripping with faux apology. “I’m so sorry to cut this short. My colleagues are throwing me a small birthday celebration, so I should get going. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” Claire’s eyes went wide with theatrical shock. She grabbed my arm, feigning a desperate apology, insisting she hadn’t forgotten on purpose. As if. A self-absorbed person like her had never remembered my birthday once. I gently pried her fingers off my arm. “It’s okay. No one’s ever really remembered my birthday, so I’m used to it. If my colleagues hadn’t insisted, I wouldn’t even be celebrating. My birthday isn’t important. Don’t feel bad. You two enjoy your evening.” My passive-aggressive performance left her speechless, her face paling. Julian’s brow furrowed, his grip tightening on his water glass. I knew my little sob story would work on a man like him, a wealthy scion raised on etiquette and propriety. He would feel a pang of guilt for ruining my birthday. Playing the victim, acting fragile? A girl who grew up in the system like me learns that from birth. Of course, the performance had to be complete. The moment I was outside, I called a few colleagues and invited them out for a drink at a nearby bar. 5 We were in the middle of our celebration when a familiar face appeared. I knew he would come. He’d show up, pay the bill, and express his apologies for the evening’s fiasco. My colleagues were surprised to see our Vice President. “Mr. Thorne? What are you doing here?” Julian was the picture of casual composure. “I was in the booth next door and saw you all. Just wanted to say hello.” He glanced at me, then at the small cake on our table. “Is it someone’s birthday tonight? Well, have a great time. Put everything on my tab.” My colleagues, seeing nothing amiss, erupted in cheers. “You’re the man, Mr. Thorne!” After he left, the comments went wild. [LMAO, the little princess couldn’t help herself. She and Julian had a massive fight.] [She’s actually insane. She asks her boyfriend to serve her friend, then screams at him for serving her friend. What’s next, demanding he personally feed her?] [She told him to go find Sienna, and this stubborn guy actually did it. Please, next time just tell him to go marry Sienna. Please and thank you.] [Rich boys have always had a soft spot for the damsel in distress. The only reason he disliked Sienna before was because of the princess’s games. Now he just feels sorry for her.] [Regardless, he’s going to be a huge asset to Sienna’s career. I hope she doesn’t let some misplaced sense of morality get in the way of this golden opportunity to leap up the social ladder.] I lingered in the shadows of the bar, a small smile playing on my lips. 6 After everyone had their fill of fun, they began catching cabs home. I saw the last of my colleagues off and was about to hail a ride myself when a car pulled up in front of me. A familiar sports car. The window rolled down to reveal a familiar face. Julian looked at me, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s late. It’ll be hard to get a cab. I’ll take you.” I took a deliberate step back, creating distance. “No, thank you. Given our… situation, it could be easily misunderstood.” The unspoken meaning hung in the air: Claire would lose her mind. His jaw tightened, his sharp gaze faltering for a second. “There’s nothing to misunderstand,” he said coolly. “Get in. I can’t park here.” A car behind him honked. I had no choice but to open the passenger door and slide in. As I reached for the seatbelt, I stopped. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice filled with apology. “I think I’m in Claire’s special seat. Could you pull over up ahead? I should probably sit in the back.” [Hah! Sienna knows exactly how to pour gasoline on a fire.] [Julian was probably starting to cool off, and now she’s reminded him of all of Claire’s drama.] Julian didn’t even look at me, his face an emotionless mask as he dismissed my suggestion. “It’s a seat. It’s meant to be sat in. Nothing special about it.” The rest of the drive was silent. When we arrived at my apartment building, I opened the door to get out, but he suddenly called my name. His dark eyes met mine. He hesitated for a moment before his lips parted. “I’m sorry. Claire was out of line tonight. I apologize on her behalf.” An apology from him was a rare thing indeed. “It’s fine,” I said. “She probably feels insecure. That’s why she’s always testing you. I understand.” He didn’t respond, clearly not agreeing with my assessment that he was the source of her insecurity. Then, he raised a hand, holding out a small, elegant gift box. “Happy birthday. Consider it compensation for a ruined evening. If you don’t want it, feel free to throw it away.” Before I could react, the car sped off into the night. The comments flared up, afraid I might actually toss it. [Sienna, baby, we can pretend to be above it all, but don’t you dare throw that gift away! It’s worth a fortune!] [I have to admit, for a guy born with a silver spoon, he has impeccable taste. Those earrings are perfect for you.] [You know, your other earring is missing. It’s a sign. Put the new ones on!] [Wait, did her old earring fall off in his car? Oh, when the little princess finds that, she is going to have a full-blown meltdown.] [I can’t wait for tomorrow. The princess is going to block him from going to a crucial meeting with a major partner, pushing him away for good and accidentally getting our girl a promotion in the process. This is going to be epic.] I looked down at the gift box in my hands and untied the silk ribbon. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a pair of diamond earrings. They glittered brilliantly under the streetlights. So this is what real diamonds looked like. Suddenly, I wanted them. I took off my remaining old earring and put the new ones on.

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My best friend and I were trapped by a System, forced to seduce the cruel male leads of a novel. My target, Kevin Bright, was disgusted by my affection, calling me a “twisted freak” and an “unwanted stray.” Her target, Marcus Blackwood, used her as his emotional punching bag, refusing to even answer her final, desperate phone call. We hit our breaking point. A game of rock-paper-scissors and two faked deaths later, we were finally free, back in our own reality. But now, they’ve chased us here. They’re playing the part of heartbroken lovers, desperate for a second chance. And they think regret is a price high enough to buy back our hearts? … My best friend and I were shackled to the same System, forced to play a game of seduction inside a novel. Her target: Marcus Blackwood, the impenetrable stoic. Her mission: to conquer his body. My target: Kevin Bright, my cold, distant guardian. My mission: to shatter his heart. But Marcus was an ascetic who spent his days in quiet contemplation, utterly immune to the temptations of the flesh. And Kevin, still obsessed with an old flame, hadn’t seen me as anything more than a child in the three years we’d lived together. We were being crushed. I was done. “I’m exhausted,” I messaged her. “I’m tapping out. You?” “If you’re out, I’m out.” It was a deal. We immediately pulled out our phones, calculated our savings, and planned our escape. “But…” I hesitated. “Which one of us… dies first?” “First to die gets to go home. The other one has to clean up the mess—arrange the funeral, tie up loose ends.” Our eyes met across the screen. Stella’s message popped up first. “I’ve had it worse. I’ll go first.” “No way,” I typed back. “Rock-paper-scissors. I can’t stand another second in this godforsaken place.” “Fine. You’re on.” She chose scissors. I chose paper. She won. I stomped my foot in frustration. “Fine! You die, I’ll plan the funeral.” Stella went silent for the next two days. I was morbidly curious about what method she’d chosen to end it all. That evening, just as I was about to call her, my phone rang. It was her. “Alice…” Her voice was thick, the words slurred, nearly swallowed by a howling wind. “Are you drunk?” My heart clenched. “Just a little,” she said, letting out a small hiccup. “Liquid courage… I’m about to do something big.” I shot up from the sofa. “What happened to next Friday? That was the plan!” We had agreed she would go in seven days. I’d handle the aftermath, then follow. “I can’t wait anymore.” The wind tore at her words. “I think today is a good day. I want to die today.” Her voice cracked with a pain so raw it vibrated through the phone. “Alice, I just wanted to see Marcus one last time… I gave him three years of my life. I know him so well I can tell what he wants in bed from a single glance… and I get nothing? I can’t accept it…” “He’s having dinner with her… with Seraphina… He won’t even answer my calls…” “Three years… A dog would have learned to wag its tail for me by now…” “But he still doesn’t want me…” “That bastard, Marcus… he won’t even give me one damn phone call… Since today is Seraphina’s birthday, I’ll just make it my death day. A day he will never, ever forget.” She rambled on, a torrent of broken thoughts, but her intention was terrifyingly clear. She was leaving tonight, and she had wanted one last conversation, one last chance to hear Marcus’s voice. He had denied her even that. “No,” I said, my voice shaking as I scrambled for my keys and sprinted out the door. “You can’t. I’m not ready for you to go. You can’t do this.” “Stella, where are you? Wait for me, please! Let me be with you!” “Alice…” She wasn’t listening, lost in her own world of pain. “Jumping is… messy. You’ll have to find the best mortician to make me look beautiful again.” “And don’t bury me. I’m afraid of the dark. Have me cremated, and scatter my ashes in the Veridian River. Make sure Marcus can never find me.” Every word was a needle in my heart. I felt her agony as if it were my own; I had watched her suffer for three long years. A chill washed over me, but I forced my voice to stay calm. “Whatever you want, Stella. I’ll do it all. But you have to tell me where you are. I want to be with you.” “No… I don’t want you to see… It would scare you…” The line went quiet, filled only by the screaming wind. I ran through the streets like a madwoman, shouting her name until my legs gave out and I collapsed onto the cold pavement. A final, soft message came through the speaker. “Alice, I’ll be waiting for you at home.” CRACK. 2 At the foot of the Apex Tower, I saw her fall. Like a broken butterfly, she plummeted from the eighteenth floor. A spray of crimson stained the pristine concrete. Stella died right in front of me. I knelt beside her, my hand trembling as I reached out to touch her face, my body wracked with sobs. “You love being beautiful more than anything… how could you choose to go like this…?” I knew, logically, that she wasn’t truly dead. We would see each other again in our real world. But watching this, feeling the finality of it, shattered me. I had overestimated my own strength and underestimated how much of my soul was tied to hers. For three years, we had been each other’s only lifeline, the only reason we survived the endless nights of cruelty. At the crematorium, I was the one who pushed her body into the furnace. I watched the flames consume the face that had once been so full of life and laughter. When the attendant handed me the small, heavy box, the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. “Stella… how could you be so small now…?” Following her wishes, I went to the river and poured her ashes into the churning water. The current seized them instantly, washing away every last trace of her. Just like that, she was gone. “Wait for me,” I whispered to the water. “I’m coming soon.” Stella’s phone, which I’d kept in my bag, buzzed. I pulled it out. A message from Marcus. [The Grand Elysian Hotel. Eight o’clock tonight. Be there.] A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. He was always like this. Her feelings never mattered. She was a tool for his release, to be summoned and dismissed at his whim. When he didn’t need her, he vanished. When he did, she was expected to drop everything. And for what? Because she loved him? Did that give him the right to trample on her heart? I didn’t reply. I just turned off the phone. He had missed his chance to say goodbye. Now he could live with that regret forever. I sat by the river until dawn, then finally went home. The morning sun felt cold on my skin. I was tired, bone-deep tired. The System demanded I maintain my character’s persona: the hopelessly devoted girl. So, no matter how ugly our fights were, I always woke up at six a.m. to make breakfast for Kevin. The System always offered the same placating line: It’s bitter now, but it will be sweet in the end. Once you succeed, a man like Kevin will worship you. But in three years, all I had tasted was bitterness. Stella’s affairs were settled. It was my turn to leave. I picked up a knife from the kitchen block, holding the cool blade to my wrist. I hesitated. I made a few false starts, then put it back down with a sigh. Kevin despised me. If I died in his house, he would probably be disgusted. He always said I wasn’t worthy of the Bright name. That his brother and his wife never should have adopted me, raising a “perverse beast” who would fall for her own guardian. He said I deserved to be abandoned, that I was nothing but an unwanted stray. But it wasn’t my fault I was abandoned. If I’d had a choice, I would never have wanted to be a Bright. No one ever gave me a choice about anything. Not even being bound by the System. I collapsed onto my bed and, against all odds, fell asleep. In the hazy twilight of my dreams, the System’s cold, mechanical voice echoed. “Alice Hayes. You have accumulated enough points. The exit portal is now open. Please be prepared to depart by tomorrow night.” Good, I thought. I’m going home. I woke with a start and spent the rest of the night purging the villa of every single thing that belonged to me. 3 I dragged everything out into the torrential rain, dumping it all by the curb for the trash collectors. The downpour washed away everything, including the last vestiges of my obsession with Kevin Bright. From now on, not a single trace of me would remain in this house. Once I was finished, I called a cab to the Veridian River. I took out Stella’s phone and powered it on. A flood of missed calls and messages poured in, all from Marcus. [Stella, you’re late.] [Answer your phone. What game are you playing now?] [Get to the hotel. Don’t make me repeat myself.] Each message was colder than the last. No concern, only commands. I stared at them blankly, then found the audio file of Stella’s final, desperate phone call with me. I sent it to Marcus. After the “message sent” notification appeared, I threw the phone as hard as I could into the dark water. I wondered what his face would look like when he heard it. Would he feel a pang of sadness? A sliver of regret for the way he had hurt her? It didn’t matter. Stella would never see it, and I wouldn’t be around long enough to find out. This was just a game, after all. Who cares what an NPC thinks after you’ve cleared the level? The wind off the river was biting. I pulled my coat tighter and took out my own phone, posting one last message to the world. “The world is beautiful, but I won’t be back for a second life. I don’t regret being a Bright, but in death, let me be free. Do not place me in the family crypt. Grant me this one freedom. —Alice Hayes, farewell.” After posting, I dialed Kevin’s number. In my final moments, I wanted to say goodbye to the person who had been the center of my world for so long. But just like Stella, no matter how many times I called, the line just rang and rang. A bitter laugh escaped me. I pushed down the last flicker of hope. I switched to video mode and aimed the camera at myself. On the screen, my hair was a tangled mess in the wind, my face pale but resolute. “Kevin, it’s been fifteen years since the Brights adopted me at six. You told me you would always protect me, that you would be my hero…” “When I was in middle school and those boys cornered me after class, you fought them off. You said no one was allowed to bully your family.” “You took me to the amusement park, on the Ferris wheel… you sang to me at the very top… Every moment of joy, every flutter in my heart during my youth… it all came from you…” My voice started to break. “Kevin, you were the one who came to me first. You gave me every reason to dream, only to turn on me, to change completely the moment you realized I loved you.” “You were disgusted by me. You avoided me. You thought my love was repulsive and you stood by while others mocked me for it…” “You always said my love was twisted and sick, but… I just loved you. That’s all it was.” I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Kevin, I couldn’t choose my family or where I came from. But I can choose to leave.” “From now on, there will be no Alice Hayes in this world… You’re free…” I pressed send, sending the 2-minute, 17-second video to Kevin. A wave of relief washed over me. I dropped my phone onto the sand. Facing the icy waves, I walked step by step into the deep. The water rose past my chest, then to my neck, until finally, it swallowed me whole. In the utter silence that followed, the abandoned phone on the beach lit up one last time. The caller ID read: Kevin. 4 Kevin watched the video again and again, his thumb compulsively hitting redial. “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable…” The cold, automated voice was a hammer blow with every syllable. He gripped the phone, his knuckles white. “Alice Hayes! Still playing these ridiculous suicide games! How absurd!” He called his assistant, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “Get a team to the coast. Find Alice Hayes and bring her back to me. Now.” The ferocity in his voice was a desperate attempt to crush the panic blooming in his chest. He tried to stand, but his legs felt weak, unsteady. “Sir, where are we going?” his driver asked, helping him into the car, his own face etched with worry. “Home.” She had finished her little drama. She would have to come home now. She was too tenacious, too full of life to do something so permanent. He just had to wait at home, and she would come back. She had to be bluffing. She had to be. At the villa, Seraphina Vance was watching TV in the living room. She looked up in surprise as he stormed in. “Kevin, you’re home early.” She moved to take his coat, but he grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron. His voice was a raw rasp. “Where is Alice?” Seraphina cried out in pain, tears welling in her eyes. “Kevin, you’re hurting me.” He snapped back to reality and let her go. “Sorry…” He didn’t have the patience for this. He turned and rushed upstairs. Alice’s room was pristine, sterile, and empty. All the gifts he’d ever bought her, all her belongings—gone. “Housekeeper! Where are all of Miss Hayes’s things?” The housekeeper flinched at his tone. She had never seen him so enraged. “Miss Hayes said she no longer liked them, sir. She had them all cleared out.” “When?” “She’s been clearing things out for a few days. The last of it was taken this morning.” The words stole the strength from his limbs. Kevin slumped against the wall. Every excuse, every bit of denial he had clung to, crumbled to dust. A terrifying dread grew inside him, a black hole threatening to swallow him whole. He frantically called his assistant again. “Have you found her?” “Not yet, sir…” The sound of the howling wind came through the phone, a phantom chill that seeped into his bones. Why does my chest ache like this? The video wasn’t real, right? She just went out with her friend, right? Her friend! Of course! She and Stella Gordon were inseparable. She had to be with Stella. Kevin shot upright, his fingers fumbling as he found Marcus Blackwood’s number. “Marcus, where is Stella? Is she with Alice?” Marcus’s hand trembled around his own phone. At the question, a shimmer of moisture glossed his eyes. Where was Stella? He didn’t know. He was sitting in a reception room at the city police department. On the table in front of him was Stella Gordon’s death certificate. She had died on Seraphina’s birthday, on the very night he had deliberately ignored her endless stream of calls. When he first received the audio recording, he’d dismissed it as another one of her desperate ploys for attention. But when she never answered his return calls, a cold panic had set in, driving him here to file a missing person’s report. Only to be told the person he was looking for was already gone. Officially. Permanently. He couldn’t name the emotion that gripped him. He just knew that the recording of her last words had become a scythe, each word carving a fresh wound into his heart. “She’s… gone,” Marcus said, the two words costing him all his strength. He sat frozen, unaware that tears were streaming down his face. The news struck Kevin like a bolt of lightning. The word gone echoed in his mind like a nightmare. How could this be?

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The day my wife gave birth was the day I learned the child wasn’t mine. I overheard her and her mother talking in the hospital room. Her mother hissed, “I told you to get rid of it. What will you do when Steven finds out?” My wife replied weakly, “What his father did doesn’t matter. I married into the Smiths. Let me keep this one piece of Evan. Once the baby is born, I’ll give Steven a true heir. He’ll forgive me.” Each word felt like ice. I stood frozen outside, then walked away silently. I waited until she delivered healthy twins. As congratulations filled the room, my grandfather’s assistant, Mr. Carter, arrived sternly. “The Smith family has a tradition,” he announced. “All newborns must take a paternity test immediately.” Amanda’s face went pale. 1 “That… is that really necessary? They’re so tiny, just born. A test would be so hard on them! Steven… tell them, wouldn’t it?” I stood at the back of the crowd, watching as she turned those familiar, heart-melting eyes on me. In the past, a single look like that could make me surrender any principle, cross any line. But the words I’d overheard—those gut-wrenching, treacherous words—were still ringing in my ears, making her current performance a bitter farce. “It’s tradition. No one is exempt,” I said, my voice perfectly calm, devoid of any ripple of emotion. My gaze swept coolly over the stunned faces in the room. “Mr. Carter, please arrange for the samples to be taken now. Deliver the results directly to this room as soon as they’re ready.” A dead silence fell over the room. Relatives exchanged uneasy glances, the air crackling with a tension so thick you could taste it. Everyone sensed something was terribly wrong, but no one dared to speak. Amanda’s fingers dug into the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white. She bit her lip, her voice trembling with disbelief as she challenged me. “Steven Smith, what is the meaning of this? Do you really trust me so little?!” Her eyes, rimmed with red, locked onto mine, a perfect portrait of a wounded heart. Even now, at the bitter end, she was still trying to play me. A ghost of a cold smile touched my lips. “I’m simply following the rules. Unless… unless you have a reason to be afraid, Amanda? Do you already know, deep down, that these children aren’t mine?” Before she could answer, her mother rushed forward, trying to smooth things over. “Steven, of course, the children are yours! But if it’s a Smith family rule, then let’s do it. It will put everyone’s mind at ease.” She shot Amanda a warning look, then carefully lifted the baby boy and handed him to a nurse. The wait for the results felt like an eternity. Time stretched and warped, each second a slow-motion torment. Amanda sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes red-rimmed and restless. She stared at me, the tension building until she finally snapped. “I went through hell to give you these children, Steven, and this is how you treat me? Don’t you have a conscience?!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “There’s another Smith family rule, isn’t there? The one that says if the father waives the test, no one can force it! Have you even thought about how this will make the children look? What will people say when they find out their own father suspected them from birth?! What are you turning them into?!” She was a master of turning the tables, of painting herself as the victim. Willing to deceive me, to pass off another man’s children as my own, all for him. Did she really think I was that much of a fool? The last embers of warmth in my heart turned to ash. “If they were my children,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “why would you be so hysterical?” “You dare talk to me about a conscience? Amanda, can you put your hand on your own heart and tell me you haven’t been living a lie?” “Don’t you forget,” I added, each word a deliberate blow, “when your reputation was in tatters and your family was on the brink of ruin, you were on your knees, begging me to marry you.” Amanda fell silent. The tears vanished as if they had never been there. Yes. It all came back to him. Her lover. Evan. She was still in college when she got tangled up with him—the “son of a murderer,” as the tabloids called him. She’d stood in his filthy, cramped apartment, holding his hand in front of the flashing cameras, and declared to the world: “Even if he’s a killer’s son, I love him.” The scandal rocked the city, from the tabloids to the highest circles of society. The Vance family heiress, hopelessly devoted to a convict’s son. Was it bravery or sheer stupidity? The fallout was immediate and catastrophic. Vance Industries’ stock plummeted. A nationwide boycott erupted against their products, the public furious that they’d raised a “murderer’s girlfriend.” In a week, the company was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. That was when she came to me. Her fiancé since childhood. I could have thrown the headlines in her face. Everyone in our circle knew that getting involved with her was social suicide, a public disgrace. But when I looked into her tear-filled eyes… I folded. Looking back now, it feels like I willingly drank the poison she offered. Just then, the door opened. Mr. Carter walked in, holding the freshly printed, expedited report. His eyes met mine for a split second before he handed me the folder. My face was a mask of indifference as I flipped it open, my eyes jumping straight to the conclusion. Analysis Conclusion: The paternal relationship between Steven Smith and the child is supported. Probability of Paternity: 99.9999%. 2 A poorly concealed smirk of triumph bloomed on my mother-in-law’s face. She bustled over to my side, her voice loud enough for the whole room to hear. “See? I told you! Our Amanda would never do such a thing! Now you can finally rest easy, Steven.” I understood immediately. My lips twisted into a silent, cold smile. They had come prepared. They were determined to play this game to the very end. Fine. If they wanted a performance, I would give them one. I let out a theatrical sigh of relief, forcing a warm smile as I looked at Amanda. “It seems I was overthinking things. I’m sorry to have put you through that. To make it up to you, I’ll book the best postpartum wellness retreat in the city. And for the twins’ one-month welcoming gala, I’ll have the papers drawn up to transfer 20% of Smith Corporation’s shares to them. A gift from their great-grandfather.” Amanda and her mother exchanged a flash of avarice. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. Amanda quickly composed herself, her voice soft and sweet again. “Steven… don’t you think you owe me a little something too? I’m craving that soup you make.” I paused, then nodded curtly before turning to leave without another word. It didn’t even take half an hour. Mr. Carter’s call came through, his voice a low, urgent murmur. “Mr. Smith, you’d just left when that man, Evan, slipped into the hospital room. They’ve… they’ve named the children. The girl is Anya, and the boy is Emrys.” “Mrs. Vance has also formally adopted Evan. He’s moving into the Vance estate. She said it would be… more convenient for him to see Amanda in the future.” Anya and Emrys. Graceful Gaze and Forever Looking Back. Even their names were a monument to their sordid love affair. And they planned to install him in her family home? To carry on right under my nose? Did they think I was a corpse? The Vance family… what audacious nerve. A cold, diamond-hard resolve settled over me, replacing the last vestiges of pain. I slowly twisted the wedding band on my finger, my voice devoid of all warmth. “Document everything. Get another, independent paternity test done. Then, call finance and terminate every single project we have with Vance Industries.” “I want the Vance family wiped off the map within a month.” I would make an example of them. I would show the world the price of betraying me. That evening, Amanda called, her voice syrupy with feigned happiness. “Steven, I’ve chosen names for the babies! Anya Smith and Emrys Smith.” “I was inspired by poetry. ‘Anya,’ for a graceful gaze, and ‘Emrys,’ for forever looking back at what’s beloved. Isn’t it beautiful?” She chattered on excitedly. “For the welcoming gala, let’s invite the press! A live broadcast! Let everyone see the new Smith heirs!” I let out a dry, mirthless laugh, tapping my fingers on my desk. I changed the subject abruptly. “I hear Evan paid you a visit. Amanda, do you remember the vows you took when you married me?” “This may have started as a business arrangement, but you know the Smith family code. The men in my family do not cheat. And any woman who marries into this family and proves unfaithful… is punished without mercy.” On the other end of the line, her cheerful facade shattered. “He just came to see me… My mother adopted him. There’s nothing between us anymore, I swear.” “Steven, I gave you children. Why are you still doubting me? You’re the only one in my heart.” “If it makes you unhappy, I’ll never see him again. Is that what you want?” Her frantic, clumsy lies were almost laughable. “Good,” I said flatly. “I hope you remember that. Because if I find out you’ve seen him again… you won’t like the consequences.” The very next day, Amanda checked out of the hospital and into the luxury postpartum retreat. As soon as she was settled, she turned to me, the picture of a concerned wife. “Steven, you look exhausted. You’ve been through so much. Go back to the office. They have nurses and staff here. I’ll be perfectly fine.” Her tone was gentle, dripping with fake sympathy. And she was right; I was emotionally and physically drained. But I didn’t leave. Instead, I went to the adjoining suite, wanting to see what game she would play next. I didn’t have to wait long. I heard the soft thud of someone landing on the balcony next door, having climbed in through the window. “Evan, you’re here! Quick, come see our children.” “Slow down! Your stitches haven’t fully healed. You’re a mother now, you can’t be so reckless!” She couldn’t even wait. She was meeting her lover at a wellness retreat, the day after promising me she’d never see him again. I heard Amanda’s voice, laced with irritation. “If it weren’t for Steven, you could be their father openly. Instead, you have to sneak in here like a thief.” “Amanda, it’s my fault. I don’t have the right background… What if Mr. Smith finds out…” “What is there to be afraid of? We fooled him with the paternity test. He runs this massive corporation, but he’s so easy to fool.” There was a pause, and I pictured Evan picking up one of the babies. His voice was hesitant. “But if you… if you really do have a child with him later, will you still love Anya and Emrys?” Amanda laughed, a sound that was light but suddenly turned venomous. “You believed that story I told my mother? Evan, you are the only one I have ever loved. I will never give Steven Smith a child. My plan is to wait until our children are old enough, and then they will inherit the Smith fortune as is their right!” She paused, and her next words were pure poison. “After the gala, I’ll start slowly drugging his food. Make him sterile. By the time he figures it out, it will be too late.” “The Smith corporation, the children, and me… it will all be yours, Evan. We’ll crush every single person who ever looked down on us.” Boom. Her words exploded in my mind like a thunderclap. My blood ran cold, my very breath freezing in my lungs. It wasn’t just deceit. It wasn’t just betrayal. From the very beginning, her plan was to consume me whole. To leave me barren, to turn me into a stepping stone, a laughingstock for the entire world. From the next room, I could still hear their soft, conspiratorial laughter. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. The urge to kick down the door and tear them apart was primal. But not yet. The time wasn’t right. I took a deep, shuddering breath. Amanda, I gave you a chance. You’re the one who chose this path to ruin. The last shred of warmth in my soul evaporated. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mr. Carter. “I want a complete investigation into Evan and the Vance family. Every financial transaction, every dirty secret you can dig up.” “She wants a live-broadcasted welcoming gala? Fine. We’ll give her one. A party she will remember for the rest of her miserable life.” 3 A month passed, and the day of the grand welcoming gala for the Smith heirs arrived. The ballroom glittered with the city’s elite, a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns. The air buzzed with camera flashes and whispered gossip. For the past month, I had been a ghost, using an “overseas business trip” as an excuse to stay away. Amanda, I heard, was thrilled to have the space. The moment she left the retreat, she’d taken the children to a villa she’d bought for Evan, playing house like a happy little family of four for two days. Inside the ballroom, the main topic of conversation was, of course, the promised 20% of Smith Corporation shares. “I heard Mr. Smith is signing the papers tonight, on stage! These kids were born with platinum spoons in their mouths.” “The Smiths are certainly generous with their heirs…” Amanda, dressed in a breathtaking couture gown, looked radiant. Motherhood had given her a new, softer beauty. The moment she saw me, she rushed over, reaching to take my arm with practiced intimacy, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Steven, you’re finally here! Come look at the babies, aren’t they even more adorable than a month ago? Everyone is calling them little angels… By the way, where is Grandpa? Hasn’t he arrived yet?” I sidestepped her touch, my face an impassive mask. I didn’t even glance at the twins. “It’s a small affair,” I said, my voice flat. “Not worth troubling him.” Her perfect smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “How could this be a small affair? It’s his great-grandchildren’s gala… Is he not feeling well?” Before I could answer, her mother swept in, laden with extravagant gifts. And trailing right behind her was Evan. Amanda immediately fell silent, retracting her hand. Evan, on the other hand, instinctively reached for one of the babies, a paternal gesture he couldn’t suppress. The baby even started to reach back. But his eyes met mine, and he recoiled as if burned, his face a canvas of guilt. I watched the awkward, tense dance between the three of them, a cold sneer forming deep in my soul. My nails were digging into my palms again. It wasn’t until Mr. Carter discreetly murmured that it was time that I took a deep breath, reined in the storm of rage inside me, and for the first time, took the two infants into my own arms. I walked toward the grand stage at the center of the ballroom. The babies felt so small and fragile in my arms. Their features, so much like Amanda’s, stirred a profound ache in my chest. If only… if only they were mine. I would have been a good father. I would have given them the world. But they weren’t. They were living, breathing monuments to my humiliation. The emcee’s booming voice filled the hall. “Distinguished guests, thank you all for joining us to celebrate the birth of Anya and Emrys Smith! As per the wishes of the patriarch, Mr. Smith Sr., the Smith Corporation will be gifting 10% of its shares to each of these beautiful children! Tonight, you will all bear witness to this historic moment!” From the stage, I saw Amanda sidle up to Evan in the crowd. They exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. “And now, for the official signing of the share transfer! If we could please have the official seal brought to the stage—” A waiter in white gloves approached, carrying a velvet pillow with the corporate seal. Every eye in the room was fixed on it. And then, I spoke. “Wait.” My single word, amplified by the microphone, silenced the entire hall. In the next instant, the lights of the grand ballroom suddenly died, plunging us into absolute darkness.

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After the first ten challengers failed, the System let me pick my own role. “Anything I want?” I asked. “Knock yourself out. The one that got away, the sweet underclassman, whatever you want.” The System’s voice was flat, bored. The previous challengers had already tried all the popular roles. Every single one of them had crashed and burned. “In that case, I’ll be the Dorm Mom.” The System’s only goal was to make the male leads’ affection for the heroine drop to zero. It never said I had to date them to do it. Plus, as the Dorm Mom, I had a legitimate reason to break up happy couples. The moment I made my choice, I materialized in the ground-floor office of a university dormitory. 【TARGET 1: VICTOR.】 【Victor and the heroine, Andrea, are returning from a late-night food run. Objective: Intercept and disrupt.】 I glanced at the clock on the wall. Holy crap, 11 PM. I knew the drill. I slipped out the main doors and circled around to the back of the building. Sure enough, there was Victor, cupping his hands to give Andrea a boost over the security wall. I clicked on my heavy-duty flashlight, bathing them in a sudden, harsh beam. “What do you think you’re doing out here in the middle of the night?” 1 They both jumped. He lost his grip, and her legs turned to jelly. Andrea tumbled right off the wall. She landed butt-first, right on Victor’s face. Yikes. Even from over here, the sheer awkwardness was radiating off them in waves. Two muffled groans echoed in the night—one of genuine pain, the other of pure humiliation. Andrea scrambled to her feet, her face as red as a baboon’s ass. “What are you two doing, skulking around back here?” I barked, striding closer. “Which dorms? Names. Now.” Victor stood up, clutching his nose. “Sorry, Ma’am. We’re in the dance club. Rehearsal ran late. Could you maybe let it slide this once?” Please. He could sell that story to someone who cared. All club activities wrapped up by nine, tops. God only knew what they’d been up to for the last two hours. “Curfew is curfew,” I stated flatly. “You’re late. No pass means you get written up and have to submit a formal apology.” The color drained from both their faces. “It was my fault, I lost track of time,” Victor said, stepping in front of Andrea like a knight in shining armor. “Just punish me.” I gave him a long look but didn’t answer, just jingled the keys in my hand and motioned for Andrea to follow me. She let out a quiet sigh of relief. The men’s and women’s dorms were in the same building, connected by a sealed-off corridor. Guys on the left, girls on the right. Just as she was about to head up the stairs, I spoke, my voice casual and slow. “Breaking the rules has consequences. It wouldn’t be fair to all the students who actually follow them, now would it?” Andrea’s face fell. “Of course,” I added, a sweet smile spreading across my face, “you could make up for it.” “Just tell me which of your roommates are using illegal appliances.” Back at the front gate, Victor was waiting for me like a good little boy. Freshmen, so pure and simple. They hadn’t learned how to be sneaky little shits yet. “I’ll have the written apology on your desk before my first class tomorrow,” he said dutifully. I chuckled. “No rush.” I repeated the same deal I’d offered Andrea. Just like hers, Victor’s expression soured instantly. The System pinged, informing me his affection for me had already plummeted into the negatives. “I made the mistake, I’ll take the fall,” he said, his jaw tight. “I’m not dragging anyone else down with me.” I clapped my hands together softly. “Now that’s what I like to see. Loyalty. You passed the test.” His face cycled through another emotion—confusion. “You were… testing me?” “Yep. If you’d been like that girl and thrown your friends under the bus, you’d really be writing that apology right now.” My tone was laced with meaning. Victor’s expression shifted a third time. “You’re saying… Andrea… she…?” I nodded grimly. “That’s right. Andrea sold out her roommates without a second thought.” “No way. She wouldn’t…” I patted his shoulder. “Pretty faces can hide ugly hearts, kid. Learn to look deeper.” “Sometimes, what’s on the outside doesn’t match the inside.” “Take me, for example.” I hooked a thumb at my chest. “Your Dorm Mom here might not be a supermodel, but on the inside? Pure gold.” Victor, who had been looking utterly devastated, actually cracked a smile. “You look really young, for a dorm mom.” “Duh. I’m literally Gen Z,” I deadpanned. He immediately started stammering an apology. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean—” “It’s fine. Go on, get to your room, kid.” I waved him off. Back in my office, the System was practically buzzing with excitement. Victor’s affection level for Andrea had nose-dived to 50%. I took a sip from my thermos. All in a day’s work. “Who’s next?” 【TARGET 2: ETHAN.】 【Ethan meets the heroine, Andrea, while working part-time at a local boba shop. Objective: Intercept and disrupt.】 The next day, I was up at the crack of dawn, lying in wait by the campus lake—a necessary shortcut to the boba shop. Besides a few students mumbling English vocabulary to themselves, the path was deserted. Soon, a lean, handsome guy with sharp features came into view. Ethan. Kingston University’s campus heartthrob. Gorgeous, but broke. As a sophomore, his life was a constant shuttle between classes and part-time jobs. Unfortunately, his last gig conflicted with his new class schedule, so he was on the hunt again. The boba shop was where he was supposed to meet Andrea, another part-timer, and begin a slow-burn romance that would land him squarely in her collection of admirers. As he got closer, I whipped out a homemade flyer. “Hey, student! Looking to make some real money? Three hundred a day, no joke.” My plan was simple: cut the problem off at the source. If he never met Andrea, he could never fall for her. Perfect. As expected, Ethan stopped. He took the flyer, his elegant brows furrowing slightly. “Three hundred dollars a day?” I flashed my official Dorm Supervisor ID badge. “One hundred percent legit. If I’m lying, you can report me to the university administration.” That erased the last of his skepticism. “Okay… what’s the job?” I gave him a mysterious smile. “Follow me.” The path I took grew more and more secluded, leading to a patch of overgrown, unused land behind the dorms. Ethan hesitated. “Where are you taking me?” I didn’t look back. Instead, I asked him a question. “Ever considered a… more personal line of work?” Ethan’s face flushed a deep crimson. He looked utterly scandalized. “Is that what this job is?” I nodded, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “What else?” He let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “I should have known. Three hundred a day… it was too good to be true.” “The work’s a little dirty, yeah, but you get used to it,” I said, unlatching the gate to a large pen. A flock of sleeping ducks, startled by the noise, woke up and started waddling towards me, quacking loudly. On my first day, I’d put in a request with the university to use this land for a small vegetable garden and a duck coop. A Dorm Mom’s salary wasn’t going to pay the bills, you know? Ethan, who had already turned to leave, froze in his tracks. He stared, utterly bewildered. “What are you waiting for? You in or out?” I snapped, glancing at him impatiently. After seeing the flock of free-range ducks, he was speechless. “When you said… personal work…” A smirk played on my lips. “Yeah? What did you think I meant, kid?” He looked mortified. “Nothing. Never mind.” I handed him a face mask and a wicker basket. “Good. Now get to work collecting eggs.” Ethan did as he was told, and I set up my phone on a small tripod and started a livestream. Title: Campus Cutie and his Quack Pack: Live at 6 AM! The viewer count skyrocketed. Donations and gifts flooded the screen. I grinned, satisfied. Sure, this was all for the mission, but I wasn’t about to pay him $300 out of my own pocket. The internet could foot the bill. And as for Andrea? She was about to find her pond was one fish short. With the second target handled, the System was practically purring with satisfaction. It immediately served up the third. 【TARGET 3: CALEB.】 【Caleb is Andrea’s childhood sweetheart. He has just transferred to Kingston to be with her. Objective: Intercept and disrupt.】 The System had barely finished speaking when a clean-cut, scholarly-looking guy appeared at the dorm entrance. He was holding a gift box, his eyes scanning the area with hopeful excitement. I stroked my chin. Now this was interesting. Unlike Victor and Ethan, Caleb was the deeply devoted, sentimental type. Disrupting this was going to be a tougher nut to crack. Wait a second. That name sounded familiar. I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. Inside was a neat stack of postcards and envelopes. The front desk was the unofficial mail drop. I pulled out a few slightly grubby letters. The sender was Caleb. The recipient was just listed as “Andrea,” with no room number. A slow grin spread across my face. Talk about a gift from the heavens. After lunch, just as Andrea was walking back into the dorm, Caleb rushed up to meet her. She looked at him, surprised. “Caleb? What are you doing here?” He beamed, handing her the gift. “I transferred! I’m doing my graduate studies here now. I told you in my last letter.” Andrea took the gift and started unwrapping it, answering distractedly. “Oh, right. Did you?” Caleb’s smile faded. “You… you didn’t read my letters?” “No, it’s not that, I just…” Andrea stammered, her eyes darting around until they landed on my office window. A flicker of inspiration lit up her face. “I mean, I never even got them.” “They were probably confiscated by the Dorm Mom,” she said, her voice dripping with pity. “I heard she’s a bit of a psycho. Likes to intercept people’s mail and read it herself.” I sneered internally but kept my expression neutral. Just as I predicted, after Andrea had made her excuses and left, Caleb came straight to my office. “Excuse me? Is the Dorm Mom here?” I smiled pleasantly. “That’s me.” Caleb blinked, a flash of disbelief on his face. “You’re… the ‘Mom’?” “Is there a problem?” I asked, feigning innocence. “What, you think someone born after 2000 can’t be a Dorm Mom?” “No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he stammered, the righteous anger he’d clearly been building up completely deflating. “Ma’am—I mean, Miss—did you by any chance confiscate some letters addressed to Andrea? They were from me. Just… normal letters.” I studied him closely. He had a handsome, earnest face, with clear eyes that held a stubborn sort of naivety. Slowly, I pulled out the grimy letters. “Are these what you’re talking about?” His face lit up. “Yes, those are them!” Then his brow furrowed. “Why are they so dirty?” “Because,” I said, my voice gentle, “I fished them out of the trash can.” I let out a soft sigh. “And this wasn’t the first time. I’ve seen letters just like these, sitting right on top of the garbage, several times now.” I pulled out my phone and opened the photo gallery, showing him several pictures. “I have to take pictures every day to document that the recycling is sorted properly. I just happened to catch these in the shot.” The color drained from Caleb’s face, bit by bit. Then, I pulled up the security footage. The video clearly showed Andrea opening a package, taking the gift, and casually tossing the accompanying letter into the trash without a second glance. When the video ended, the office was silent. Caleb just stood there, his lips pressed into a thin, white line. I softened my tone. “Look, kid, some things just aren’t meant to be. You should give your heart to someone who will actually treasure it.” I gently pushed the stack of letters across the desk toward him. “These belong to you. Whether you keep trying or decide to cut your losses… that’s your call.” Caleb was silent for a long time. Finally, he reached out and took the letters. “Thank you,” he whispered. As I watched his heartbroken figure walk away, I savored the moment. The System pinged. Caleb’s affection for Andrea had dropped to 40%. I clicked my tongue. Childhood sweethearts, man. The bond runs deep. Even after all that, he was still 40% in. No matter. I had time. With the first round of disruptions complete, I settled into the comfortable rhythm of my Dorm Mom life. Once the students were all in class, I’d kick back with some sunflower seeds and binge-watch short-form dramas on my phone. But my peaceful existence was soon interrupted. The System informed me that Andrea hadn’t been idle. While Ethan was still off her radar, she had managed to claw back some affection points from both Victor and Caleb. Well, I was the villain here. I wasn’t about to just sit back and let that happen. One evening, I set up a small charcoal grill in the open space behind the dorms. Next to it, I placed a hand-painted sign: Dorm Mom Cares! Free Roasted Sweet Potatoes! The sweet, smoky aroma drifted far, attracting a crowd of students. Andrea and a few of her friends were drawn in by the smell. Seeing that it was free, she didn’t hesitate to grab the largest one. Just then, Victor happened to be walking by behind her. I spoke up, as if making a general announcement. “Sweet potatoes warm the soul, but they can make you a little… gassy. Don’t be greedy now!” Andrea rolled her eyes. “Some ‘care event.’ The school is paying for it anyway. It’s a student benefit, so if you don’t take it, you’re an idiot.” “And I bet you just take all the leftovers for yourself,” she muttered, grabbing two more and stuffing them in her bag. I just smiled, not stopping her. I saw Victor’s eyes flash with a flicker of disgust as he watched her. Later that evening, I took a “stroll” that deliberately led me past the dance studio. The System had told me Andrea had proactively asked to be Victor’s partner for a duet. They were practicing a difficult lift, one that required Victor to hoist Andrea high into the air. Victor took a deep breath, bent his knees, and with a powerful thrust, lifted her towards the ceiling. And at that precise moment… PFFFTTT— A sharp, sudden, and unmistakable sound ripped through the studio.

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The night our company secured its new round of funding, my wife—the CEO—was supposed to finally announce our marriage to the world. But just as she was about to speak, the new hire she was so fond of, a kid fresh out of college, sauntered onto the stage. “Rebecca, announcing us so soon?” he preened, a smug grin on his face. “You spoil me.” My wife, Rebecca, didn’t correct him. Instead, a soft smile played on her lips as she promised to fast-track him onto our most critical project. The room erupted in applause. Whispers of “a match made in heaven” filled the air. A long-time colleague nudged me, his voice a low murmur. “Luke, you’re usually so good at playing the game. Now’s your chance to suck up.” I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t make a scene. I simply walked forward, slid my project lead ID badge across the table toward the kid, and said, loud enough for everyone to hear: “Why settle for just being on the team? Consider my position as project lead a gift to celebrate your… announcement.” 1 The conference room fell silent. Every eye was on me as I offered my badge to Rory, the new kid. The shock was palpable. After all, this project was my life’s work. I had poured years into it, skipping meals, pulling all-nighters, and collapsing from exhaustion more than once. The silence was broken by a single colleague who started clapping, and soon, the room was roaring with applause again. They praised my generosity, calling me a loyal old guard, the kind of right-hand man every boss dreamed of. Only Rebecca, standing on the stage, looked different. Her expression was a storm cloud, her lips a flat line, her eyes boring into me. Seeing the flicker of panic on her face felt almost funny. She’d always hated the idea of office romance. For seven years, our marriage had been a secret. I’d begged her, pleaded with her to go public, but she always refused. Tonight, she had finally agreed, only to let Rory hijack the moment so easily. Well, whether she wanted to announce us or not, I was done. “If that’s all, I’ll be heading out. Enjoy the party.” I didn’t wait for her reply. I just turned and walked away. The new funding was a direct result of my project’s potential. The core patents were mine. The progress was a product of my blood, sweat, and tears. And after this profound a betrayal, I was done being her fool. The elevator hummed, carrying me down to the underground garage. I slipped into my car, the passenger seat still holding a bouquet of ninety-nine red roses. I’d been so excited about tonight, I’d even booked a table for a candlelit dinner. What a joke. All my anticipation, only to watch her dote on Rory. My gaze hardened. I was about to start the engine when a figure stepped into the glare of my headlights. It was Rory. He leaned against the hood, dangling my ID badge from his finger. “She was this close to announcing you, Luke,” he crowed, his voice dripping with triumph. “Then I said one little thing, and just like that, she changed her mind. She told me after I spend some time on your project, I’m getting a promotion and a fat raise. I hear you haven’t had a promotion in what, three or four years? You’re not mad, are you?” His pale, thin face was a mask of pure malice. I used to find his taunts infuriating, letting them bait me into arguments that Rebecca always misinterpreted as me targeting him. But now? I couldn’t be bothered. As if on cue, I heard the sharp click-clack of high heels approaching. Rory’s demeanor shifted in an instant. He clutched the badge and scurried to my window, his voice laced with manufactured panic. “Luke, please don’t be mad! Rebecca putting me on your team wasn’t her idea, it was mine! I just wanted to learn from you. If you’re not happy, I’ll… I’ll pull out of the project.” He held the badge out meekly, his voice trembling. “A position as important as project lead… of course, it should only go to a veteran like you!” He looked for all the world like a puppy I’d just kicked. Rebecca rounded the corner and, without a word, slammed her designer handbag onto my windshield. BANG. “Luke, what is wrong with you?” she shrieked. “Rory is talking to you, get out of the car! You could have hit him! Is this how you treat your team now? Workplace harassment?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I rolled down the window, ready to tell them to keep the damned position. But Rory, mistaking my movement, thought I was reaching for the badge. A flash of panic crossed his eyes, and his fingers tightened on the lanyard. The next second, he doubled over, clutching his stomach. His face went ashen. “My stomach…” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. The acting was laughably bad, but of course, she bought it. Rebecca’s anger vanished, replaced by frantic concern. She rushed to his side, fumbling in her purse for antacids and helping him take them. Then, she spun on me, her voice a desperate roar. “Luke, are you just going to sit there? Get out and help me drive him to the hospital!” I rolled my eyes and revved the engine, ready to leave them there. But Rebecca planted herself directly in front of my car, her expression deadly serious. It was clear she’d rather be run over than let me leave. How utterly absurd. I remembered a time I’d been so sick from a work dinner that I was coughing up blood into the toilet from a stress-induced ulcer. She’d glanced in, told me to pop some Tums, and went back to bed. Now, for Rory’s little performance, the ever-composed Rebecca was losing her mind. With a heavy sigh, I relented and drove them to the emergency room. At the hospital, after a doctor confirmed Rory was perfectly fine, Rebecca let out a breath of relief, her eyes filled with gratitude. I couldn’t stand to watch another second of their melodrama and turned to leave. Rebecca chased me down the hall and grabbed my arm. I braced myself for another tirade. But instead, she draped the project lead badge back around my neck, carefully smoothing the lapels of my suit. “Luke,” she said softly. “You know how Rory likes to joke around. There will be other chances to make our announcement. Just be patient.” She paused, her voice firming. “And a position this important isn’t something you throw a tantrum over. I’ll let it slide this time.” I just grunted in response. She studied my face for a long moment, then seemed to sigh in resignation. She held out a crumpled, cheap-looking box. “And Luke… I saw the roses in the car. They’re beautiful. Will you put them in a vase when we get home? I, uh, I got you something too.” I knew this move. The classic Rebecca playbook: a slap, followed by a cheap piece of candy. The box looked familiar. I remembered a social media post from Rory a few weeks back, whining about staining a new tie Rebecca had bought him. He’d theatrically thrown the whole thing, box and all, in the trash. In the comments, Rebecca had promised to buy him ten more. I took the box and opened it. Inside was a knock-off. The fabric felt cheap, and a smudge of blue dye came off on my thumb when I touched the edge. The receipt was still tucked inside. She’d drop a fortune on a luxury brand for Rory without blinking, but for me, she couldn’t even be bothered to hide the price tag on a fake. I didn’t bother calling her out. I just nodded. “Got it. I’m heading out.” As I turned the corner of the hallway, I spotted a trash can. Without a moment’s hesitation, I tossed the box inside. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number of the tech giant that had been trying to recruit me for years. “The offer you made,” I said into the phone. “I’m accepting it.” 2 The company was a Fortune 500 titan. They’d been trying to poach me for years, but I’d always turned them down, committed to the dream Rebecca and I were supposed to be building together. On the other end of the line, the HR director gushed about salary, benefits, and how thrilled they were to have someone of my caliber joining their team. By the time the call ended an hour later, I was parked in my driveway. I gripped the phone, my knuckles white. All those years ago, I’d walked away from a guaranteed executive position to start from scratch with her. I’d poured my health, my mind, my entire being into our company. I’d run myself into the ground. And now, just as we’d finally made it, climbing from nothing to everything, her heart had flown elsewhere. From now on, I was living for myself. I typed out a quick message to our primary investor, informing them that the project lead for their investment was changing. They had backed us, pushed for this new round of funding, specifically because of their faith in me. They deserved to know I was out. Message sent, I booked a flight for the next morning and started to pack. From the bottom of the wardrobe, I pulled out a heavy winter coat. Tucked underneath was a photo album I hadn’t seen in years. It fell open, and a picture of Rebecca and me slid out. It was taken eight years ago, right after we got together. We looked so young, so shy, barely daring to touch. I picked up the album and began to flip through the pages. It had been her idea to document everything, to “remember all the hardships,” as she’d said, so she could make it up to me one day. And we had struggled together. We’d huddled in a tiny, cramped studio apartment watching pirated movies. We’d argued over who got the last piece of meat on New Year’s Eve. But even in those lean times, I’d been happy. Those memories were the fuel that drove me. As the years passed, the photos changed. Our clothes became more stylish, the backgrounds more luxurious. But the pictures themselves became rarer. From several a week, to one a month, to maybe one a year. Then Rory arrived, and the photos stopped altogether. Our interactions became little more than professional handoffs between a boss and her subordinate. At some point, she stopped noticing if I missed a meal. She didn’t care when I was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer after a work event. She didn’t bat an eye when I injured myself in the lab. But she shielded Rory from everything. She’d cancel important meetings to make sure he, with his delicate stomach, ate on time. She spoiled him rotten, as if trying to compensate for some past injustice. I had asked her why once, my heart aching with a sense of betrayal. Her eyes had turned to ice. “We both came up the hard way, Luke. I can’t believe you’re still so needy. You’re less mature than Rory.” She’d told me she admired his “purity” and “kindness,” and that she didn’t want him to suffer the way we had. Staring at the album, once a testament to our love, I felt nothing but a hollow emptiness. I tossed it into the trash can without a second thought. I was folding a shirt when my phone rang. It was the manager from the Michelin-starred restaurant. “Mr. Hayes? Your reservation for the private table was half an hour ago. If you don’t arrive in the next ten minutes, we’ll have to release it to other guests.” I preferred simple food, but Rebecca loved the romance and prestige of fine dining. It was where I’d proposed. Tonight, for our big announcement, I’d wanted to celebrate with her. But she’d stood me up. “I won’t be coming,” I said, my voice flat. “Give the table to someone else.” Just as I hung up, a text from Rebecca came through. Have a work dinner tonight. Can’t make it. The brevity of it was almost novel. Usually, she didn’t even bother with an excuse. A moment later, I understood why. A new post popped up on my social media feed. It was from Rory. The photo showed Rebecca, her head bowed, carefully cutting a piece of steak for him. The background was unmistakable: the very same restaurant, the very same private dining room I had booked. The caption read: The boss is as kind as she is beautiful. The steak she cut for me tastes extra special. So those were the “other guests” the manager mentioned. I didn’t bother asking Rebecca why she’d lied. I didn’t feel a pang of sadness. My heart was a placid lake. All I wanted was to sleep. After a quick shower, I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber—the first truly restful night I’d had in years. But sometime in the dead of night, the bedroom lights snapped on, jolting me awake. I blinked against the glare, my eyes slowly adjusting to find Rebecca standing by my bed. She was staring at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Luke,” she gasped. “You were… asleep?” 3 Bleary-eyed, I glanced at my phone. It was 3 a.m. What was she even doing home? Usually, when Rory had one of his “episodes,” she’d stay with him all night, terrified of a relapse. She looked furious, her face a dark mask of resentment. “I come home this late, and you don’t even send a text to see if I’m okay? You don’t wait up for me? Luke, have you no decency?” Me? I almost laughed. The times I’d called to check on her, she’d accused me of being controlling. The nights I’d waited up with a late meal ready, she’d called me idle and threatened to give me more work. Now that I’d stopped, she was still mad. There was no winning. I grunted, a noncommittal sound, and reached to turn off the light. She shoved me lightly, then leaned against me, her body pliant. “Luke, I’m exhausted. Aren’t you going to run me a hot bath?” Then I smelled it. A whiff of Rory’s cologne—that cheap, cloying scent—hit me. It was disgusting. The old me would have been up in a second, catering to her every need. The new me just found her demanding. I pushed her away. The sudden movement, the firmness of it, took her by surprise. I frowned, my voice raspy with sleep and irritation. “I’m tired. Do it yourself.” Rebecca stared, her mouth slightly agape, as if she couldn’t process the fact I had just rejected her. After a long, tense moment, her hand tightened on her purse strap, her knuckles turning white. “So this is it?” she seethed. “I miss one dinner with you, and this is how you act? Unbelievable, Luke.” She spat the words out. “You think I even wanted to come home tonight?” With that, she stormed out, slamming the bedroom door so hard the walls shuddered. A moment later, I heard the front door open and close with the same violent force. In the past, I would have chased after her, begging her to stay. Tonight, I just turned off the light and went back to sleep. The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and clear-headed for the first time in ages. I went to the kitchen to make breakfast and was surprised to find Rebecca sitting on the living room sofa. This was a new development. Without my groveling, she usually gave me the silent treatment for days, leaving for the office before I was even awake. A lavish gift box rested on her lap. She was meticulously tying a silk ribbon around it. Hearing me, she looked up. She stood and closed the distance between us, grabbing my wrist. She opened the box, took out a watch, and fastened it around my arm. The cold metal sent a shiver through me. She held my wrist, turning it this way and that, and nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect. The size is right. It’s got that understated, sophisticated look.” I’d seen the watch in a magazine. It was a new model, worth a small fortune. But before I could even pull my hand back, she unclasped it, wiped it down carefully with a silk handkerchief, and placed it back in the box. “Good,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. “You and Rory have similar wrist sizes. If it fits you, he’ll love it.” Staring down at the top of her head, all I felt was a cold, biting irony. Of course. Rory was the one who loved flashy watches. Why would I ever think she was turning a new leaf? Rebecca slipped on her coat, picked up the gift box, and headed for the door, a new bounce in her step. But I blocked her way. I held out a folder I’d printed out last night. “Rebecca. You need to sign this.” She frowned, not even looking at it. “Bring it to the office. I’ll sign it there.” “It’s not a company matter,” I said, pushing the folder closer. “It’s important. And it won’t take long.” She let out an exasperated sigh and snatched the papers from my hand. “Always something with you,” she grumbled. Her eyes scanned the top page. Her fingers, flipping through the document, froze. Because she was holding a copy of our divorce papers. 4 Rebecca stared at the papers for a beat, then slapped them down on the entryway table with a derisive laugh. “Is that the best you can do, Luke? Threatening me with a divorce?” She smirked. “What, you think landing one big project gives you the right to act tough? I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time for your little tantrums.” I calmly picked up the papers and held them out to her again. “This isn’t a tantrum, Rebecca. I’m setting you free. Now you can give Rory the title he really wants.”

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My job is… unusual. I break people up for a living. Not the legal kind—that’s what lawyers are for. I handle the messy, emotional fallout that comes before the paperwork is signed. They say love is priceless, but men and women who just whispered “I love you” to their partners can place a six-figure order with me seconds later. Take right now, for instance. A text from my husband, Andrew, just lit up my phone. He’s asking if I’d prefer Paris or Singapore for our wedding anniversary. And a second later, a young woman with a delicate, pretty face walked into my office. She was timid, gathering her courage before she finally spoke. “I’d… I’d like to place an order. For my boyfriend. He’s decided to divorce his wife.” I kept my face neutral and picked up the client intake form. And then I saw the name. Andrew Cole. My hand froze for a fraction of a second. The girl across from me, head bowed, continued in a small voice, “My boyfriend says his wife is a good person, so he doesn’t want to hurt her.” A dry smile touched my lips. I stared at the photo on the form—at Andrew’s face, a face so familiar it had somehow become a stranger’s. It was a bitter thought. In my third year as a breakup specialist, I’d finally received my own case. 1 I set the file down and took a proper look at the girl. Jenna. She wasn’t as beautiful as me, merely pretty in a fragile, unassuming way. Slender—she’d definitely never had a child. She carried an air of inexperience, but her clothes and speech suggested a good education. When she mentioned being the other woman, her eyes darted away, a flicker of what looked like shame. “Ms. Thorne,” she began, her voice gaining a little confidence, “what would you recommend for a situation like mine? My boyfriend said it would be best if… if the woman initiated the divorce herself. They’ve been together a long time, you see. It would be awkward.” She bit her lip, offering a shy, almost innocent smile. If I wasn’t absolutely certain she didn’t recognize me, I would have thought she was mocking me to my face. I stretched my lips into a professional smile. “Ms. Bird,” I said, using her last name from the form, “how long have you and he been together?” The question seemed to catch her off guard. “What?” I raised my voice slightly, keeping it steady. “Before I can propose a strategy, I need to understand every detail of your relationship.” Understanding dawned on her face. She nodded, her voice as bright and cheerful as a songbird’s. But with every word she spoke, another piece of my smile chipped away. “We’ve been together for three years. We met at the hospital.” She blushed, a soft pink dusting her cheeks. “His family member was having surgery, something serious, I think. He was so scared, just smoking in the hallway. I was passing by and… well, I said a few words to comfort him.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “We got to talking, and less than a week later, he asked me to be his girlfriend.” As I listened to her sweet recollection, a sharp, violent pain lanced through my chest. “Was the day you met… today?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Yes! How did you know?” I managed a faint smile, my eyelashes trembling as I looked down. Of course, I knew. Because three years ago today, I was at City General, giving birth to my first and only child with Andrew. Doing the math, while he was meeting her in a hospital hallway, I was on an operating table. A difficult labor that turned into an emergency C-section. I had passed out three times. The memory, once a testament to my strength, now felt like a dose of slow-acting poison, spreading through my veins. I took a silent, deep breath and forced myself to ask the next question. “Are you aware that he has a child? A daughter. She’s three, just started preschool.” “Of course,” she said, the timidity on her face replaced by a casual shrug. “What about it?” “He’s already promised me,” she continued, “that after the divorce, I’ll be her new mom. She’s just a little kid, you know? They don’t really know the difference. Over time, she’ll accept whoever is there. Don’t you think so, Ms. Thorne?” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the file. I nodded, my voice betraying nothing. “Yes. You’re right.” Too bad you’ll never get the chance. My agreement seemed to open the floodgates. She leaned forward, eager to share more, to brag. “He even showed me a picture of his wife. She has this long scar on her stomach… it’s hideous. He told me himself, every time he sees it, it makes him physically sick.” She paused, then looked at me conspiratorially. “Ms. Thorne, what do you think is wrong with that woman? With a scar that ugly, why would she cling to a man who doesn’t want her? Is she that desperate for love?” A small, cruel laugh escaped her lips. I laughed too, but my eyes were glacial. “Is it possible… that his wife never knew any of this?” Jenna raised an eyebrow, her tone absolute. “Impossible. He has a physical aversion to her. You’d have to be an idiot not to notice that. You have no idea, Ms. Thorne. With me, he’s so passionate, so alive. He says he’s been starving at home, completely uninterested in his frumpy wife. I mean, if it were you, wouldn’t you find it strange? Three years without being intimate with your husband?” “Strange,” I answered instantly. My gaze was numb, fixed on the platinum wedding band I hadn’t taken off in four years. Andrew and I came from different worlds. My family had money; his didn’t. Yet we’d made it, from college sweethearts to the wedding aisle, eight years of history between us. When I was sick, he’d literally jumped from a second-story dorm window to get me medicine in the middle of the night. When I was sad, he’d run across town to find the one bakery that made my favorite macarons, just to see me smile. He was there for every ultrasound, every doctor’s appointment. Every time he came home, the first thing he did was hug our daughter, Lily, and me, telling us we were his everything. Even his excuse for our separate beds these past two years had been wrapped in a blanket of care. “Leslie,” he’d said, stroking my hair, “you went through so much bringing Lily into the world. I could never put you through that again.” I thought it was just what happened to marriage. That the fire cools to a quiet, steady warmth. How could I have known? It wasn’t that he’d lost his appetite. It was that he was eating out. A chill crept up from the soles of my feet and settled deep in my bones. I asked my final question. “What are your exact requirements for the separation? Is it just that the wife has to be the one to file for divorce?” Jenna shook her head. “Of course not. And most importantly, you can’t let her find out he was cheating. I know people think he married into money, but he’s worked so hard to build his own career. He’s been through so much. If she finds out he had an affair, she’ll never let go. She’ll destroy him.” I flexed my fingers, saying nothing. She wasn’t reassured. She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, repeating her instructions. Finally, she sat back. “Ms. Thorne, I know you’re the best breakup specialist in the city. I’m counting on you and my boyfriend to handle this.” I nodded, a practiced smile fixed on my face. “Don’t worry.” The moment the door clicked shut behind her, I picked up my phone. I didn’t call Andrew. I called my oldest friend. “Get me the best PI and the best lawyer from your firm. I want a complete rundown of Andrew Cole’s life for the past three years. Everything.” I took a breath. “And while you’re at it, give my father a call. Tell him Andrew’s cheating. It’s time to pull our family’s investments.” I leaned back in my chair, the leather cool against my skin. “Let’s see what he has left when he’s standing on his own.” My friend, my most trusted partner, was ruthlessly efficient. Less than half a day later, a 128-gigabyte flash drive landed on my desk. “It’s all in there,” he said. “Brace yourself.” I slid the drive into my laptop. Click. The first video opened. A high-end restaurant, bathed in soft, golden light. Andrew, dapper in a black designer suit, presented a massive bouquet of 9,999 imported roses to the woman across from him. Jenna. Three months ago, for my birthday, Andrew claimed he was swamped at work. He came home with a single, sad-looking rose he’d bought from a street vendor for five bucks. The next file was security footage from a luxury department store. Andrew’s arm was wrapped possessively around Jenna’s waist as they shopped. Designer clothes, fine jewelry… shopping bags piled up at her feet like a monument to his affection. A small stuffed animal, a free gift from the cashier at checkout, was the same one he’d brought home for our daughter Lily’s birthday. Expressionless, I closed the file and opened the next. Three years of Andrew’s bank statements. Massive sums of money bounced between several accounts, the cumulative total so large it made my chest ache. The final destination for it all was a private account ending in 7761. The account holder: Jenna Bird. He’d been funneling money to her under the guise of “consulting fees,” quietly siphoning off our assets. Did he really think I was that stupid? That I wouldn’t notice? The cold in my heart felt like it was freezing me from the inside out. I clicked on the next file. It was a folder of screenshots. Text messages between Jenna and Lily’s preschool teacher. Posing as “Lily’s Mom,” Jenna had been relentlessly asking about my daughter’s daily life—what she ate, when she napped, who her friends were. She had even arranged with Andrew to attend the next parent-teacher conference together, as a couple. My hand clenched the mouse so tightly my knuckles cracked. It wasn’t just sadness anymore. It was a white-hot, protective rage. He had dragged our daughter into his sordid affair. I remembered when Lily was born, how he was the one who got up for every 2 a.m. feeding, rocking her back to sleep. He promised me that no matter what, she would always be our little princess, always loved, always protected. Even this morning, when Jenna had nonchalantly mentioned becoming Lily’s new mother, a small, foolish part of me had felt a flicker of relief. At least Andrew still cared about his child. At least he wouldn’t hurt her in a divorce. Now, I felt like a gaping wound had been torn open in my chest, with an icy wind howling through it. I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed my phone, my fingers flying, ready to send him a furious message, to warn him to stay the hell away from my daughter. But before I could, a notification popped up. A message from Jenna. She’d sent me a selfie, a mirror shot of her in a new dress. The text read: Ms. Thorne, what do you think of this outfit? My boyfriend is taking me and his daughter to meet his parents tonight! I’m so nervous! At the exact same moment, a text from Andrew appeared. Hey honey, my parents are missing Lily. I’m going to take her over to their place for dinner tonight. It was followed by a second message. You’ve been working so hard. I bought you a movie ticket for tonight. Go relax and enjoy yourself. He’d even attached a picture of Lily smiling, taken just moments ago as she left preschool. Looking at my daughter’s innocent, trusting face, a slow, dangerous smile spread across my own. A movie? The family dinner sounds far more entertaining. If he’s introducing the new girlfriend to the family, then shouldn’t the wife be there to offer her opinion? I hung up and got in my car, heading straight for the family estate. On the way, Andrew’s texts kept coming. Honey, did you make it to the theater? Looks like there’s a big event at the mall today, did you see it? He was checking up on me. I wasn’t worried. I did a quick search for the mall’s events, took a screenshot, and sent it back. Yeah, saw it. It’s pretty crowded. My reply was curt, but it seemed to put him at ease. Okay, babe. Have fun. Love you. The same sweet words he always used. They turned to ash in my mouth. I put my phone away and didn’t reply. When I arrived, I slipped on a hat and a mask and entered the property quietly through a side gate. The party was already in full swing. Nearly all of Andrew’s relatives were there. His mother was beaming, flitting about like the perfect hostess. Her attentive, doting manner reminded me of how she’d been before Andrew and I were married. She used to treat me like her own daughter. When she knew my constitution was weak, she’d drive to a farm upstate to buy organic chickens for soup; when I was cold, she’d knit me scarves and slippers. She even remembered my father had a sensitive stomach and would brew special herbal remedies for him. Even my own father, a man who’d seen everything in the business world, was won over. “The Coles are good people,” he’d told me. “I can rest easy with you marrying into their family.” But now, as Andrew walked in with a radiant Jenna on his arm, his mother was the first to rush forward. “This must be Jenna! Oh, you’re just as lovely as Andrew said. You can tell you’re a good girl.” She turned to her son. “Andrew, you better treat her right. No bullying, you hear?” His father, usually so stern and reserved, put down his newspaper and clapped Andrew on the shoulder, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. “Good eye, son. She looks strong. Healthy. It’s about time the Cole family had a woman who can give us a son.” And just like that, I understood. All this time, they resented me for having a daughter. They wanted an heir to carry on the family name. Jenna seemed to bask in the approval. She subtly pushed her hips forward and said in a sweet, girlish voice, “Don’t you worry, Mr. and Mrs. Cole. Andrew took me to the doctor. Everything is in perfect working order. I can definitely give you a grandson.” “Wonderful! Just wonderful!” His parents were overjoyed, practically fighting over who could give Jenna a gift first. In their excitement, they pushed my daughter, Lily, aside like she was a piece of furniture. The other relatives swarmed them, showering Jenna with compliments. Amid the noise, I heard Andrew’s uncle—a man to whom I’d “loaned” over two hundred thousand dollars over the years—clap his hands and roar with laughter. “That’s my boy! Now that’s a true Cole man!” His aunt—the one for whom I’d pulled every string I had to get her daughter into a university abroad—was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “Oh, this is such a relief. I liked Jenna the moment I saw her. She has a good, solid feel about her.” And his younger brother—whose failed startups I had repeatedly bailed out with my family’s connections—stood up to raise a toast. “To my brother and my new sister-in-law! To a long and happy life, and may you have a son soon!” Every single one of them. Every person in that room had taken something from me—my help, my money, my kindness. And now, not one of them remembered my name. It was as if I had never existed. The aunt, after wiping her tears, grabbed my three-year-old daughter and pushed her in front of Jenna. “Well, what are you waiting for, sweetie?” she urged. “Say hi to your new mommy!” “Yes, yes,” his mother chimed in, suddenly remembering Lily. She took my daughter’s hand and tried to press it into Jenna’s. “Lily, go on. Call her ‘Mama’.” Lily looked at the circle of strange, eager faces, her own face filled with terror. She shook her head violently. “No! She’s not my mommy! My mommy’s name is Leslie! Grandma, I want my mommy.” Her small voice trembled. “Can you please call my mommy to come get me?” She thought her grandmother would save her. But the warmth vanished from her grandmother’s face, replaced by a cold fury. She grabbed Lily’s ear and twisted, hard. “You stupid girl, what nonsense are you spouting? She is your mother now. Say it!” Andrew’s father scowled at Lily, his disgust plain. “Andrew, is this how you’ve raised her? With no manners?” Jenna bit her lip, looking faint, and collapsed dramatically into Andrew’s arms. “Andrew,” she whimpered, “I don’t think Lily likes me.” He wrapped his arms around her, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “Don’t be silly. She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know any better. Once we’re married, she’ll do whatever you say. I won’t interfere.” Standing just outside the patio doors, I had seen enough. I pushed the doors open and stepped inside. The chatter died instantly. I looked at the stunned, guilty faces around the room, and let a slow, chilling smile spread across my face. “Isn’t this a family dinner? Why wasn’t I, the actual wife, invited?”

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After seven years together, my boyfriend handed me an invitation to his wedding. The bride wasn’t me. He said it was just a green card marriage for his one true love and told me to be understanding. So I smiled, wished him well, and made one phone call to his biggest rival. He was about to understand that the woman he betrayed was the same woman who could destroy him. 1 It was three in the morning when my boyfriend, Liam, started passing out wedding invitations in the VIP section of the club. When he slid one across the polished table to me, a sharp-eyed friend of ours immediately started laughing. “The bride gets an invitation too? You two are something else, keeping the joke going right to the end.” But the laughter died the second they opened the card and saw the photo inside. The smiles froze on their faces. Because everyone in that room knew, with a sudden, sickening clarity, that the woman getting married to my boyfriend wasn’t me. It was Claire. His Claire. The one that got away and then came back. I, however, wasn’t surprised at all. I smiled, pulled a crisp twenty-dollar bill from my purse, and tucked it into his hand. “I don’t think I can make the wedding, but this is for you. A little something for the happy couple.” I bit down on the word “happy,” letting it hang in the air. Then, under the stunned gazes of our friends, I turned and walked away. Liam scrambled after me, his explanation a weightless whisper in the hallway. “Ava, don’t overthink this. It’s just a piece of paper.” “It’s for Claire’s green card,” he continued, as if that explained everything. “It’s the fastest way for her to get her status sorted out. As soon as it’s approved, I’ll divorce her and we can get married. I promise.” He added, as a final, pathetic flourish, “And hey, to show you there are no hard feelings, Claire picked out a car for you herself!” When I just gave him a flat, emotionless nod, he seemed satisfied and headed back to his party. He didn’t know. He had no idea that I was done believing in his so-called promises. If his heart wasn’t with me, then I was done pouring mine out for him. I pulled out my phone, my fingers steady, and dialed the CEO of our industry’s leading competitor. My voice was firm. “I’m accepting your offer,” I said. “I’m ready to come aboard, and I’ll be bringing all of my proprietary research with me.” The first thing I saw when I walked into the office the next morning was the car from Claire. A pink beach cruiser bicycle was leaning against my desk, a ridiculous satin bow tied to its handlebars. A few colleagues were gathered around it, whispering. Their conversation stopped when they saw me, their faces a mixture of pity and poorly concealed amusement. “So that’s the gift from Claire? How… thoughtful.” “Shh, she’s here.” Expressionless, I walked over, pushed the bicycle into a corner, and didn’t give it a second glance. My phone rang. Liam. I answered to the immediate buzz of his irritation. “Why’d it take you so long to pick up? Are you still upset about the green card thing? God, Ava, can’t you be a little less small-minded and see the big picture for once?” “It’s a formality, a piece of paperwork so Claire can build a life here. Don’t we have enough trust between us for you to understand that?” I said nothing. He paused, then softened his tone, the way he always did when he was manipulating me. “Look, I know this is hard. But you know Claire is like a sister to me. I can’t just stand by and watch her struggle, can I?” “You’ve always been the one who gets me, Ava. You’ll understand this time, too. Right?” He was worried about her struggling, but not about my heart breaking? And besides, what kind of company needed its CEO to stage a sham marriage to retain a “talent” who barely had a high school diploma? It was just another excuse born from his blatant favoritism for Claire. I was too tired to argue. I just grunted an “Mm-hmm.” “One more thing,” he said, his voice all business now. “That project Claire’s been having trouble with? I need you to fix it. I want a solution on my desk by the end of the day. It’s your responsibility, so don’t disappoint me.” A cold, bitter laugh rose in my throat. So that was the real reason for this call. I was supposed to clean up Claire’s mess. Again. It was his pattern. He protected her at every turn, burying her mistakes. When she got drunk and started a fight with a client, he paid for the damages out of his own pocket to make sure she didn’t face any consequences. This particular project was my baby. I had spent a month flying back and forth, catering to the client’s every bizarre demand to land that contract. The moment the ink was dry, he’d said, “We’re all one team here,” and handed the lead position to Claire. Now she’d assaulted the client, and the punishment fell on me for “failing to protect her.” And he wanted me to go back and salvage it? The audacity was breathtaking. Everything was for Claire. Even the one time he finally, miraculously agreed to marry me was a lie, a means to get a green card for Claire. We had been together for seven years. Seven years of me asking, and him refusing. First, it was “we just graduated, we need to focus on our careers.” I understood. Then, we started the company together. It grew fast. “Let’s wait until after the IPO,” he’d said. I understood. Later, the company was a top-five player in the industry, the IPO was a roaring success, and our friends from college had kids in elementary school. I thought, this has to be it. When I brought it up, he accused me of being conventional, of not understanding him. “Aren’t we fine the way we are? Why do you need a piece of paper to tie me down?” An hour after that conversation, he sent me to the airport to pick up Claire, who had just moved to New York. In the two months since she arrived, he had held our relationship hostage, threatened me with its demise, exactly 76 times. And with each of those 76 threats, he made it painfully clear to everyone who his heart truly belonged to. The way my team looked at me shifted from respect to a kind of morbid curiosity. His parents’ warmth toward me chilled into indifference. My friends started dropping hints, gently nudging me to wake up. They were right. I needed to wake up. I was clinging to seven years of history, but he was only clinging to Claire. Hearing no argument from me on the phone, Liam assumed I’d caved, that the matter was settled. “Don’t worry,” he cooed, “as soon as Claire’s papers are finalized, I’ll take you straight to City Hall. We’ll have our wedding. Okay?” “By the way, you saw the bike Claire got you, right? Isn’t it great? She’s so thoughtful. You should try to be more accommodating to her, you know? Don’t let people think you’re petty.” A humorless smile touched my lips. He couldn’t go three sentences without mentioning his precious Claire. While I was pulling all-nighters for the company, he and Claire were having candlelit dinners at Michelin-star restaurants, with her posting on Instagram about his “romantic soul.” While I was taking care of his sick father, he and Claire were skiing in Aspen, captioning their photos with “the brave get to enjoy the world first.” He was enjoying it, alright, while I was the one carrying all the weight. And still, in his eyes, I could never measure up to her. Before I could reply, I heard her voice in the background, a sweet, cloying sound. “Liam, honey, come on! The clerk’s office closes for lunch soon!” “Gotta go,” Liam said hurriedly. “Don’t forget to handle that project.” Then he hung up. My hand tightened around my phone. He didn’t even have another second to spare for me. Two minutes later, an @everyone notification popped up in the company’s general Slack channel. I clicked on it. A message, in bold red font, filled my screen: 【HUGE NEWS!】A massive congratulations to our very own Claire Miller and CEO Liam Carter on tying the knot today! A match made in heaven! We wish the happy couple a lifetime of love and joy! Beneath it was a photo. Claire, dressed in a crisp white pantsuit, had Liam wrapped in her arms, her head tilted down to kiss him. He was leaning back, eyes closed, a blissful smile playing on his lips, holding up two bright red marriage certificates for the camera. The backdrop was unmistakably the vow stage at the City Clerk’s office. The channel exploded. Claire’s sycophants were the first to react: “Congrats, Claire! Congrats, Mr. Carter! This is the best news our company has ever had!” Claire herself quickly followed up with a voice memo, her tone thick with smug triumph. “Aw, you guys, thank you! Liam and I wanted to keep it low-key, but he insisted we share our joy with our corporate family. Dinner on us soon!” The head of HR chimed in instantly. “So generous, Claire! This finally puts all those nasty rumors about Mr. Carter’s relationship status to bed. I guess some people will have to learn their place now.” He punctuated the message with a winking-face emoji. I had no intention of engaging, but they weren’t about to let me off the hook. One of Claire’s assistants tagged me directly. “@Ava Chen, you agree, right? As a company veteran, shouldn’t you be the first to congratulate our CEO and his beautiful bride?” The moment that message appeared, I could feel the eyes of everyone in the open-plan office drift toward me, feigning nonchalance as they stared at their phones. Before I could even react, Claire replied to the thread. “Guys, don’t do that. Let’s not make this awkward for Ava. She’s probably not having a great day. We shouldn’t force her.” It was a masterful move, pretending to defend me while twisting the knife, confirming for everyone that I was the woman who had been dumped. And Liam? He posted a single, sterile sentence: “Thank you, everyone. Please return to your work. All project approvals will be handled by our new Chief Operating Officer, Claire Carter, for the time being.” His silence on the matter of me was the loudest confirmation of all. It was the most brutal kind of dismissal. I was just a tool. A useful, disposable tool. I calmly navigated away from the Slack channel, opened my HR portal, and digitally signed my own severance papers. 2 That evening, I took a cab to Liam’s parents’ house. My car, of course, had been driven off by Liam. The suburban house in front of me was one I knew well. I’d drained my savings to buy it outright years ago, dreaming it would be our marital home. Liam had complained it was too far from the office, so he moved his parents in from out of state and had me buy another condo downtown. The joke was on me. He still lived in this house with them. The downtown condo sat empty—he never let me move in—while I rented a small studio apartment near the office. For the convenience of working late, he’d said. Now that I was leaving him, I felt I owed his parents a face-to-face explanation. With that thought, I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. His mother opened the door. The smile on her face vanished when she saw me. “Ava. Isn’t it a busy time at the company? What brings you all the way out here?” Before I could answer, she turned and walked back inside, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, “You know, Claire is such a thoughtful girl. She just got here, and she brought us such expensive gifts. And you? You’ve been with Liam all these years and you show up empty-handed.” I froze. Just last week, I’d had a friend bring back a top-of-the-line set of golf clubs from Scotland for his father, and a custom-made silk scarf for his mother. How had those become Claire’s gifts? I stepped into the living room and saw his dad on the sofa, lovingly polishing one of the very golf clubs I’d given him. “Mrs. Carter,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Those clubs, and the scarf… I had a friend bring them for you. Didn’t Liam tell you?” His father shot me a cold glare. “That’s enough. No more excuses. Claire already told us they were a special welcome gift from her.” “Ava,” he said, his voice dripping with disappointment. “How could you try to steal credit from a younger girl like that? Just to make yourself look good?” His mother, who had been about to get me a glass of water, set the pitcher down and walked back over, shaking her head at me. I looked at them, incredulous. In my own house, I was the unwelcome guest. Just then, the front door opened, and the sound of Liam and Claire’s laughter filled the entryway. “Mom, Dad, we’re home!” Liam had his arm around Claire’s waist. They walked in, beaming. When Claire saw me, her smile faltered for a second before her eyes welled up with tears. She shrank back, hiding behind Liam like a frightened child. The moment Liam’s parents saw her reaction, their faces hardened. His father slammed the golf club down on the coffee table with a loud crack. “Liam, have you been letting her bully Claire? I’m telling you, I watched that girl grow up. She’s like a daughter to me. Don’t you dare push her around!” He pointed the club at me. “You said you bought this? Fine, take it back. We don’t want it. And while you’re at it, get out of my house.” His mother quickly added, “Exactly! Claire is all alone in this big city. For her to think of buying us such lovely gifts… it shows her character. And you? You try to take the credit with a single sentence. How can we ever trust you to marry our son?” This was all the encouragement Claire needed. Her performance began. With tears streaming down her face, she choked out, “It’s all my fault. I never should have bought those things. Ava, please don’t be angry with them. It’s all my fault.” “I must be in your way, taking up a space that belongs to you. Maybe it’s best if I just leave New York tomorrow.” Liam instinctively pulled her into a protective embrace. “Claire, you don’t have to apologize to her. She’s just being petty and jealous. She can’t stand to see anyone else be happy.” My hands were shaking with rage. I stared at him. “Liam. Tell me the truth. Who bought those gifts?” He turned to me, his face a cold mask. “Ava, have you made enough of a scene? Claire bought them. End of story.” “I’m warning you,” he continued, his voice low and menacing, “my parents aren’t in good health. If you upset them, you’ll have me to answer to.” He shot me a desperate, frantic look, a silent plea for me to just drop it. In that moment, I finally understood. I was, and always had been, the outsider. His father grunted, getting to his feet and issuing the final verdict. “We’re having a family discussion. You should leave now.” So that was it. I was the only one here who wasn’t family. A flicker of triumph flashed in Claire’s eyes. She feigned reluctance. “Oh, we shouldn’t… Ava is a guest, after all…” Liam’s father waved a dismissive hand. “Ava, I’m going to be blunt. I don’t think you’re good enough for my son.” “Look at Claire—a degree from a prestigious overseas university. And you? What skills do you have? If Liam wasn’t the CEO, you wouldn’t even have a job at that company.” “You’re out of your league with our family. Do yourself a favor, keep a little dignity, and leave my house immediately.” A high school dropout with a degree he bought for her online. The irony was suffocating. Without me, that company would have failed three times over. I laughed, a raw, bitter sound. “Your house? I bought this house. You’ve been living here, rent-free, for years, and now you have the nerve to tell me I’m not good enough for your son?” That struck a nerve. His father snatched a teacup from the table and hurled it to the floor. It shattered, sending sharp fragments flying. One piece sliced my arm, and I felt a warm trickle of blood. “The deed is in my son’s name!” he roared, his face purple with rage. “First the gifts, now the house! Is there anything you won’t claim is yours?” “Get out! Get out now or I’m calling the police!” I looked at the twisted faces of this family and knew there was no point in arguing further. I locked eyes with Liam, one last, long look. Then I turned and walked out. He frowned, a flicker of something—guilt? annoyance?—crossing his face. But he said nothing. He let me go. 3 Outside the house, the night air was cold against my face. I walked aimlessly down the quiet suburban street, realizing I had nowhere to go. Liam had the keys to the new condo, and I wasn’t about to go back and ask for them. After quitting my job, I’d already terminated the lease on my studio. It looked like I’d be sleeping in my car tonight. I walked to the spot where I always parked, but it was empty. My Range Rover was gone. Frowning, I pulled out my phone and dialed Liam. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up, his voice slurring slightly with irritation. “Ava, what do you want now? I thought you left.” I swallowed my anger. “Where is my car?” I asked, my voice cold. There was a pause. Then, in a tone of utter entitlement, he said, “Oh, the Range Rover? I gave it to Claire.” I fought the urge to throw my phone into the street. “On what authority did you give her my car?” “What do you mean, your car?” Liam’s voice rose, indignant. “Ava, can you stop being so possessive for one second? Claire is new to the city. She can’t be taking Ubers everywhere, can she? She needs it to meet with clients, to generate revenue for the company!” He wasn’t done. “Besides, didn’t she get you a new one?” “So what if she drives your fancy car for a while?!” A broken-down bicycle, in his mind, was a fair trade for my Range Rover. He continued, his words a cascade of casual cruelty. “Oh, and by the way, that downtown condo was just sitting empty, so I let Claire move in. It’s much more convenient than a hotel.” I finally snapped. “You wouldn’t dare! I bought that condo!” A sneer came through the phone. “You bought it? Ava, have you forgotten whose name is on the deed?” “I can let whoever I want live there. What are you going to do about it?” “I’ll tell you what,” he said, his voice turning hard. “My dad is furious right now. He was so angry he smashed that old tea set you kept in the cabinet. If you want to salvage this relationship, you’ll come back tomorrow with an identical one and apologize.” “Otherwise, we really are done.” He thought I’d come crawling back, just like all the other times. Not this time. My blood ran cold. “Liam,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Confirm something for me. The tea set. Was it in a black lacquered box?” “Yeah, that’s the one. Your precious little treasure. Now you’re worried? Maybe you should have thought about that before you started a fight.” “Liam… that was my father’s. It was his heirloom. You knew that, didn’t you?” For a brief second, his voice faltered. “I… I forgot. It’s just a tea set. Your dad’s been gone for years, Ava. It’s not important anymore.” “Stop trying to change the subject. Be here by noon tomorrow with an apology. Do you hear me?” I rubbed my temples, feeling something inside me shatter into a million irreparable pieces. “You want an identical one? That’s impossible.” “And you know what? Thank your idiot father for me. He finally made me see your whole family for what you truly are.” He exploded. “What did you just say? How dare you! After all the years I’ve given you, the sacrifices I’ve made, you have the audacity to talk to me like that?” “That’s it, we are done! And don’t bother coming to work tomorrow. You’re fired!” “Who do you think you are? Do you honestly believe anyone else would want you after me?” “You won’t get a single brick from those properties, or a single bolt from that car! You’ll leave with nothing!” He slammed the phone down. I stood on the silent street, taking a moment to let the calm wash over the rage. Seven years of my life. Two properties. All of my savings. I had given him everything, and he was leaving me with nothing. He had even let them destroy my father’s memory. But the game wasn’t over. I had prepared for this.

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My father sent me to my husband’s company to test him. A surprise inspection, he’d called it. I thought it would be a formality. I wasn’t even five steps inside the office when I saw her: a woman dressed in a look of curated innocence, staring at an industrial shredder as if it were magic. “Wow, this thing is so cool,” she breathed, and then, without a second thought, she picked up a contract from a nearby desk and started to feed it in. A colleague next to her went pale. “Lexi, for God’s sake, stop!” he yelped, diving to snatch it back. “Weren’t you in Carter’s office playing video games? Why are you out here?” She just giggled. “Hehe, I got thirsty.” As if on cue, her hand, holding a full cup of water, jerked. The entire contents splashed directly onto the main power switch on the wall. The office went dark, followed by a collective cry of despair from every cubicle. I grabbed the arm of a young intern. “Who in the hell hired that woman?” He immediately put a finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down,” he whispered, his eyes wide with fear. “That’s our boss’s wife. Mr. Hayes’s wife. I heard this whole division is technically hers.” He gave me a weary look. “Are you new? You get used to it. She usually just stays in his office and doesn’t bother anyone.” A sharp, pulsing pain started in my temples. If she was Carter’s wife… then what was I? I pulled out my phone and dialed my father. “Dad,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “Cancel the evaluation. Just tell Carter to bring the divorce papers to the office.” 1 The official story was a routine divisional review. A surprise audit, my father had called it, telling me not to feel any pressure, to just consider it a chance to get familiar with the assets. The real story? He was sending me to test my husband. I figured it would be a simple in-and-out. A formality. I badged in with the credentials the front desk provided, the frosted glass doors to the main office floor hissing open before me. The first thing I saw was a woman. She was dressed in a white sundress that screamed calculated innocence, crouched in front of a heavy-duty office shredder, her expression one of childlike wonder. “Wow, this machine is so cool,” she murmured, her voice a breathy whisper. “Does it just… eat anything?” Before anyone could answer, she reached over to a nearby desk and picked up a thick, bound document. From my angle, I could clearly see the cover sheet, stamped in bold red letters: ACQUISITION AGREEMENT. Without a moment’s hesitation, she started feeding it into the machine’s hungry maw. A man in glasses nearby went white as a sheet. “Lexi, no!” He launched himself across the short distance between them, a desperate dive that was more of a controlled fall, snatching the contract from the shredder’s teeth just in time. He collided with her, but she barely seemed to notice. “My God, Lexi, what are you doing?” he gasped, his voice thin with terror. “I thought you were in Carter’s office playing on your Switch. This contract has to be signed this afternoon!” The woman—Lexi—didn’t seem the least bit offended by the collision. She just giggled, a light, airy sound, and held up an empty tumbler. “Got bored. And thirsty.” The man with the glasses clutched the rescued document to his chest like it was a newborn baby. He let out a shaky breath, forcing a pained smile onto his face. “Right. Thirsty,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-beg. “Please, can you just… go back to his office to get a drink? He has that filtered water cooler in there, remember?” She pouted. “The water in there tastes weird. I like the water out here better.” Ignoring the man’s look of pure, unadulterated despair, she skipped off toward the break room. I watched the whole insane spectacle, a sharp, pulsing pain starting in my right temple. I caught the sleeve of a young guy who looked like an intern, his ID badge still shiny and new. “Who is she?” I asked, keeping my voice low. The intern’s eyes flickered from me to the woman’s retreating back, a flicker of raw fear in them. He brought a finger to his lips in a universal sign to be quiet. “Keep it down, ma’am.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s Lexi. She’s… she’s Mr. Hayes’s wife. Carter’s wife.” The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. In that single moment, all of Carter’s recent strangeness—the late nights he claimed were spent at the office, the way his phone was always face down on the nightstand, the vague, distant look in his eyes—it all clicked into place with a sickening finality. The intern, oblivious, kept whispering. “The rumor is, this whole division is technically hers, so she’s the real boss, you know? You must be new. You’ll get used to it.” He sighed, a sound of weary resignation that didn’t belong on someone so young. “She usually just stays in his office, watches Netflix or whatever. Doesn’t bother us. Carter must be out for that summit today, so there’s no one to babysit her. That’s when she… explores.” His words faded into a dull roar in my ears. She’s Carter’s wife. Then what in God’s name was I? “Ma’am? Are you okay?” the intern asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “You look really pale.” I forced a smile that felt like cracking glass. “Fine. Just… surprised.” I looked out at the open-plan office. “I’m just surprised a place like this would have someone like that on staff. It’s… an eye-opener.” The intern gave a bitter little shrug. “Like I said, you get used to it. As long as she doesn’t actually break anything, we just try to survive until she gets bored and goes back in his office.” I didn’t say anything else. Doesn’t actually break anything? If that contract had been shredded, a multi-million-dollar acquisition would have imploded. The fallout, the financial loss… who would have answered for that? I watched Lexi’s silhouette in the break room. She was humming to herself, her body swaying to a rhythm only she could hear. My hand went to my phone, my thumb hovering over my father’s contact. But then I stopped. Just leaving now would be letting Carter off too easy. My father sent me here to evaluate his performance. And from what I’d just seen, it wasn’t just his performance that was in question. It was his judgment. His character. His integrity. I needed to see just how deep the rot went. I smoothed down the front of my blazer and walked back to the reception desk. “Hi, my name is Audrey Sterling. I’m from the corporate headquarters, here for the divisional review.” My voice was calm, even. “I’ll need a temporary workstation, preferably somewhere quiet. And one more thing—this is an internal audit. I don’t want Mr. Hayes to be aware of my presence.” The receptionist nodded, her professional smile unwavering. I found a quiet desk in a far corner of the office, settling in behind the monitor. My eyes, however, were fixed on Lexi. She had emerged from the break room and was now staring intently at the fire alarm pull station on the wall, a dangerous curiosity gleaming in her eyes. 2 With Carter out for the day, Lexi’s boredom quickly reached its peak. She drifted out of the general manager’s office again, a ghost of chaos haunting the cubicles. She floated through the office, a walking, talking disruption. One moment she was poking at a designer’s freshly rendered graphic, leaving a smudge on the monitor. The next, she was leaning on a programmer’s keyboard, inserting a string of gibberish into a line of code. You could feel the collective tension rise wherever she went. People held their breath as she approached, only to exhale in a rush of relief and frantic damage control after she’d passed. Her tour eventually led her back to the break room kitchenette. She was apparently thirsty again. She picked up a disposable cup and held it under the water cooler spigot. I don’t know if her hand slipped or if it was intentional. But she jerked. A full cup of water flew sideways, arcing through the air in a perfect, shimmering wave. It crashed directly against the wall beside the cooler. Right where the main circuit breaker for the entire floor was housed. There was a loud, wet CRACKLE, a flash of angry blue sparks, and then… nothing. The overhead lights died. Every computer monitor went black. For a few seconds, there was absolute silence. Then, the silence was shattered by a tidal wave of anguish and despair. “MY CODE! I’ve been working on that script all morning! I hadn’t saved!” “The pitch deck! The client presentation is in two hours! It’s gone!” “The quarterly reports… they’re due at two… Oh my God, it’s all gone!” The head of IT, a perpetually stressed man named David, was the first one out of his office. He saw Lexi standing there, a look of pure, unblemished innocence on her face, and his own face turned a shade of mottled purple. His lips moved, but no sound came out. He clenched and unclenched his fists, a silent, internal battle against screaming. Lexi, of course, spoke first, her voice dripping with wronged fragility. “What happened? Is the power out?” She gestured at the smoking, blackened panel. “That switch must be really cheap. It shouldn’t break just from a little water, right? Why is our equipment so terrible?” The sheer audacity of it, the masterful way she shifted blame, was almost breathtaking. The office manager, a man named Paul, came scurrying over. He took one look at the smoldering breaker, one look at Lexi, and immediately pasted a sycophantic smile on his face. “Lexi, are you hurt? Did it scare you?” he asked, his voice oozing false concern. “Don’t you worry about a thing. It’s not your fault. It was probably just some old wiring. We’ll get it fixed right away. I’ll call maintenance, have them put in a new one, a waterproof one! You just go back to the office and relax. We’ll handle this.” Lexi pouted, clearly not entirely satisfied, but she turned and sauntered back toward Carter’s office without another word. As soon as she was gone, Paul wiped a sleeve across his sweating forehead and started barking orders at the IT department. As he passed my desk, I stopped him. “Excuse me,” I said quietly. “Does this kind of thing happen often?” He looked at me, recognized the visitor’s badge, and a look of profound bitterness crossed his face. He motioned for me to follow him into the fire-exit stairwell. The heavy door clicked shut behind us. “You’re from corporate, right? The auditor?” he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Look, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but after today…” He sighed, the sound echoing in the concrete well. “She’s Carter’s… well, you know. She’s his whole world. We can’t touch her.” “Carter’s out of town today, so the queen has the run of the castle,” he continued, his face a mask of helpless frustration. “When he’s here, at least he keeps her contained in his office…” He leaned against the railing. “Last month? She ‘accidentally’ spilled a Venti latte. A very large, very hot latte. Right on top of our primary server rack.” My stomach clenched. “The entire company’s data was corrupted. It took the IT guys a week of working around the clock just to restore it from backups. An entire week of productivity for the whole division, just… gone.” “And the consequences?” I asked. A humorless laugh escaped his lips. “The consequences? Carter said our IT department was negligent. That the servers were in an unsecured location. He docked the entire department’s quarterly bonus. Said it was an ‘object lesson’ in data security.” My heart, which had been sinking all morning, finally hit the floor. This was Carter’s management style. Let a walking disaster area run wild, and then punish the hardworking employees who had to clean up her mess. Bravo, Carter. Just bravo. Just then, the door to the GM’s office opened again, and Lexi poked her head out. “Ugh, it’s so boring in here! Is the power back on yet? My phone is about to die! Are there any good snacks in the break room?” No one answered. The only response was the deep, oppressive silence of a hundred people pushed beyond their breaking point. 3 Just as the engineering team finally restored power, my phone rang. It was my father. He needed a hard copy of the latest core data from the marketing department. It was for the main board meeting that afternoon, he said, and it was critical. He told me to handle it personally and ensure there were no mistakes. I got the data on a flash drive from the head of marketing and went to the copy room. I had just finished printing the last page, compiling the thick stack of paper and clamping it neatly in a binder clip, when the door swung open. It was Lexi, holding a large bubble tea. Her eyes immediately landed on the heavy-duty stapler on the counter beside me. “Ooh, can I borrow that? My bag of chips opened up in my purse.” Without waiting for an answer, she reached for it, her movements careless and entitled. Instinctively, I shifted the stack of documents and the stapler away from her grasp. These papers were confidential. Her hand closed on empty air. Thrown off balance, her foot caught on a power cord snaking across the floor. She stumbled forward, and the bubble tea flew from her hand. The milky brown liquid sailed through the air in a perfect, tragic arc, landing squarely on my freshly printed, absolutely critical, confidential report. The thick stack of A4 paper absorbed the sugary drink instantly, the dark stain spreading through the pages, warping them into a useless, sticky brick. For a moment, I just stared at the ruined report. The calm, detached observer I had been all morning finally evaporated. I lifted my head and met Lexi’s eyes. There was no apology in them. Not a shred of remorse. Just a flash of annoyance that I hadn’t given her the stapler. My voice, when it came out, was dangerously quiet. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? Can you possibly afford to take responsibility for this?” Lexi was clearly unaccustomed to being addressed with anything other than deference. She blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, her shock curdled into indignation. “How dare you talk to me like that?” she snapped. “Do you have any idea who I am?” She drew herself up, her chest puffing out. “I am Mr. Hayes’s wife!” I looked at her, my expression flat. A small, cold laugh almost escaped my lips. “Oh?” I asked, my voice still level. “And does being Mr. Hayes’s wife give you the right to destroy company property? Does it exempt you from every rule of professional conduct?” My challenge seemed to ignite a fuse. Her face flushed with rage. She jabbed a finger at my nose. “Of course it does! This company belongs to Carter, which means it belongs to me! I can do whatever I want!” Her voice rose, becoming shrill. “Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? Some new girl, trying to lecture me?” A few people had drifted over, drawn by the noise. They saw the scene—the ruined documents, my cold fury, Lexi’s tantrum—and froze, their eyes wide with fear. A couple of women from the admin team tugged gently at my sleeve, their expressions pleading with me to just apologize and de-escalate. I didn’t move. I just held her gaze. Seeing my refusal to back down, Lexi’s rage morphed into a smug, triumphant cruelty. She pulled out her phone. “Okay. You want to be tough?” she sneered. “You think I can’t handle you?” A malicious smile spread across her face. “I’m going to let Carter tell you exactly who I am. And who you are.” She stabbed at the screen and initiated a video call.

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I’m supposed to be the school’s designated bad girl, the one with the big boobs and the empty head. The boy I’ve been chasing since kindergarten, Caleb, just slipped me a box of ultra-thin Trojans and told me to use them on the school’s untouchable golden boy. That’s when the comments started scrolling across my vision, like a spectral social media feed only I could see. [This dumbass side character has no idea, does she? The male lead, Caleb, just wants to get with the main girl, Ava, who’s crushing on the golden boy.] [So if the side character seduces the golden boy, the male lead gets his shot.] [Thing is, this girl’s a total siren. Liam, the golden boy, is a virgin. He might not stand a chance.] [Stand a chance? If she whispered his name just right, he’d probably hand over his soul.] I looked over at the boy sitting stiffly on the edge of the cheap motel bed, our school’s resident genius, Liam Carter. I decided to test the theory. “Hey, Liam,” I murmured, my voice a little shaky. 1 From the moment Liam Carter walked into this seedy motel room, he’d been a statue carved from ice. Cool, distant, unreadable. But when I called his name like that… His eyes, hidden behind a fringe of dark hair, widened almost imperceptibly. The comments flared to life. [I think I just heard the sound of a zipper straining.] [The idiot side character is about to get railed into another dimension and she doesn’t even know why.] [He thinks she lured him to this motel because she actually likes him. He has no idea she’s just doing it for Caleb, the guy she’s been obsessed with forever.] Before school let out, Caleb had cornered me in the stairwell. For the first time since I’d known him, the lazy, arrogant smirk was gone. He looked serious. “Listen, Chloe,” he’d said, his voice low. “You want me? Prove it. Take down Liam Carter. Wreck that perfect, straight-A reputation of his. If you can drag our golden boy into the mud, I’m all yours.” Liam Carter was a campus legend. Girls left notes in his locker, tried to catch his eye in the halls. He never gave any of them a second glance. Until I slipped him a note. Room 207, Sunset Motel, after school. And the boy who was out of everyone’s league showed up on time. I quickly pieced together the information from the phantom feed. This wasn’t my life; it was a cliché young adult novel, dripping with angst. I was the “dumb blonde” side character, the bad-girl trope. Caleb, my childhood crush, was the male lead, but he was in love with the main female character, Ava. And Ava? She only had eyes for Liam. So, Caleb’s plan was to use me to ruin Liam. Turn him into a burnout, a failure. That way, the sweet and innocent Ava would lose interest, and Caleb could swoop in. And me? The story had a different ending for the bad girl. An accidental pregnancy, a terrified teenager bleeding out alone in a bathroom stall. That was my final scene. I rested my forehead in my hand, a bitter laugh catching in my throat. A devoted male lead. A naive, girl-next-door heroine. And me, the girl who was going to die for their love story. 2 Liam had clearly never been in a situation like this before. Just hearing his name on my lips had sent a flush of crimson creeping up his neck. “…We don’t really know each other,” he said, his voice tight. The comments were merciless. [Oh, really? Who spent ten minutes fixing his hair in the reflection of the vending machine before knocking on the door?] [Who’s the star of his dreams every single night? It ain’t Ava.] [Who uses Chloe’s sophomore year picture for his, uh… ‘private study sessions’?] [Liam, my man, you are down BAD.] I leaned in closer, my body brushing against his. The keys in his pocket dug sharply into my thigh. My fingers, nails painted a dark, glossy red, traced a line up his chest. My hand found his phone. I slipped it from his pocket. The lock screen lit up. It was a photo of me from the first week of school, a candid shot of me taking cover from a sudden downpour under the school’s front awning. “So,” I purred, feeling a real, unfamiliar thrill. “It was love at first sight.” In the reflection of his dark eyes, I looked like a fox, sly and victorious. He quickly looked away. “You’re mistaken. It’s just a random picture I found online. I didn’t know it was you.” [You stare at her every single day in calculus, and you’re gonna say you didn’t recognize her? Please.] [Captain of the debate team, my ass. The lies!] [Can we get a wellness check on his pants right now? Things look critical.] Liam’s gaze accidentally flickered down to the V-neck of my shirt. He froze, his breath catching in his throat before he squeezed his eyes shut. His eyelashes, long and dark, rested against his cheekbones like tiny, sleeping wings. “…You should fix your shirt.” I glanced down and felt a hot blush of my own. The collar had fallen open, and from his angle… well, he was getting quite a show. I pulled the fabric together, then a wicked little idea popped into my head. “You saw way more than you were supposed to. You owe me.” In the halls of Northwood High, he was the Ice King, cool and unapproachable. But here, with me, he was surprisingly patient. “What kind of compensation did you have in mind?” I reached into my backpack, pulled out a mountain of homework, and dumped it all onto his lap. “This is all you, genius.” 3 I left Liam sitting amidst the chaos on the bed and slipped into the bathroom, planning to just wash my face and get out of there. But the reflection in the grimy mirror made me stop dead. My eyeliner had smudged into two black rings, giving me a distinct raccoon-chic vibe. My cream blush had melted in the humidity, leaving two clownish red circles on my cheeks. It was all thanks to that damned rainstorm I’d gotten caught in on the way here. This was the face I had been trying to seduce Liam Carter with. The horror was too much. A small shriek escaped my lips. Liam burst into the bathroom a second later, his eyes wide with panic. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I pointed a trembling finger at my reflection, my voice cracking. “My makeup! It’s a disaster! Why didn’t you tell me? I look hideous!” He stared at the tear welling in the corner of my eye. He hesitated for a long moment, then slowly, he raised his hand. His fingertips, cool against my skin, gently wiped the tear away. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s… not that bad.” Tch. So the Ice King could tell lies after all. The next morning, for the first time since freshman year, I walked into school without a stitch of makeup on. Caleb, my deskmate, didn’t even look up when I sat down. “So? Did you do it? Is Liam Carter officially corrupted?” Across the aisle, Liam was already at his desk, meticulously wiping it down. I saw his shoulders tense at the sound of his name. I ignored Caleb and started unpacking my bag. He wasn’t used to being ignored. He kicked the leg of my chair, hard. “Hey. Are you deaf?” The sudden jolt startled me. I clutched my books to my chest and glared at him, pure disgust on my face. Our eyes met, and for a second, the usual swagger in his expression faltered. “You, uh… you look good today.” The comments flickered. [Turns out Chloe’s actual face was trapped under six layers of Sephora.] [If you saw this face, could you really still call her a villain?] [She’s still a trashy burnout. Don’t let a pretty face fool you.] Seeing he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted, Caleb sighed in frustration, grabbed my wrist, and started pulling me out of the classroom. This was his move. He’d drag his flavor-of-the-week to a stairwell or an empty hallway for a make-out session. He just assumed I’d be thrilled. I twisted my arm, trying to pull away, but he just tightened his grip, taking it as a game. Until a tall figure stepped between us, blocking his path. The clean, cool scent of pine filled the air. Liam stood with his back to me, shielding me. His voice was ice. “Let her go.” Caleb jutted his chin out. “And who’s gonna make me?” Liam didn’t move an inch. Caleb was about to shove him when a girl in a pristine white dress walked into the classroom. Ava. [The main girl has entered the chat! She’s the real deal.] [Have you guys noticed Chloe’s always trying to copy her? Ava does the sweet, innocent thing, so Chloe tries to act all pure too.] I rolled my eyes. What? I wasn’t allowed to be naturally gorgeous? 4 The moment Caleb saw Ava, his aggressive posture melted away. He shot me a dirty look and let go of my wrist, turning to go talk to her. But Liam’s voice stopped him, cold and hard. “You haven’t apologized to Chloe.” Ava, who had a well-known crush on Liam, saw him defending me and her brow furrowed. “Chloe, are you really making them fight over you? That’s so manipulative.” She turned her big, innocent eyes on Liam. “Don’t let her drag you down, Liam. She’s a bad influence. Tattoos, parties… she’s just… not our kind of person.” An idea sparked. I let my body go limp and sagged against Liam’s back, pitching my voice to be as sweet and fragile as possible. “Oh, I feel so weak… I think I’m going to faint…” Liam froze, his entire body rigid as I clung to him. As he helped me stumble away, I shot a triumphant smirk over my shoulder at Ava. Her face turned a shade of pale green. 5 I moved my stuff to the empty desk next to Liam. “Hi, neighbor,” I said with a sunny smile. Liam kept his eyes downcast, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He gave a quiet “Mm,” and then started arranging my textbooks for me. First period was Advanced Algebra. Aka, nap time. I laid my head on my desk and was out like a light. But my dreams were strange; I felt like someone was watching me. I slowly blinked my eyes open and found myself staring directly into a pair of intense, dark eyes. Liam was leaning on his desk too, just inches away, watching me sleep. When he saw I was awake, his gaze darted away. He quickly started doodling in his notebook, pretending he’d been doing it all along. I rubbed my eyes and, while the teacher’s back was turned, I whispered, “You’re supposed to be the good student. Why aren’t you paying attention?” Liam Carter was Northwood’s academic god. Three years straight at number one, no exceptions. [In the book, he starts skipping class and getting into fights to be with her. His grades completely tank.] [It’s so tragic. This genius kid throws away a full scholarship and doesn’t even go to college, all for her.] [She’s a C-student, so he decides to become one too. Love makes you dumb.] Reading those comments, my voice took on a serious edge. “Liam, if you stop being the good student, I won’t like you anymore.” A flicker of genuine panic crossed his face before he quickly masked it. He looked away, giving a stiff little nod. “I understand.” 6 As I was leaving school, my phone buzzed with a text. [We’re about to go mess with Ava. You owe us a carton of Marlboros after.] It was from the leader of a group of townies from the vocational school across town. I used to hang out with them. Then I remembered. A few days ago, Ava had been running her mouth, telling everyone Caleb would rather date a literal piece of garbage than me. In a fit of rage, I’d called my old friends and told them to rough her up a bit. [See? Chloe’s a total bully. Ava says a few words and she calls in her gang.] [That’s just how girls like her are. Born rotten. They hold a grudge over everything.] On pure instinct, I grabbed Liam’s arm and dragged him toward the alley behind the gym where they always hung out. My friends were there, a menacing circle around Ava. My heart pounded. I pulled Liam behind a dumpster to watch. But the scene I was expecting never happened. Ava was leaning against the brick wall, casually taking a hit from a vape and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. My so-called “friends” were laughing with her, one of them with an arm slung casually over her shoulder. Then I heard Ava’s voice, clear as day. “Liam walks this way home every day. The second you see him, you pin me against the wall. Got it?” “You got it, boss,” one of them replied. “We’ll tell him Chloe sent us. He’ll think she’s a psycho bitch…” Liam and I just stared at each other. She was playing us both for fools. When I got home, the comments about my grim fate echoed in my mind. I decided then and there to stay as far away from Caleb and Ava as possible. I gathered up all my lighters, vapes, and cheap makeup and threw them into the pond in my backyard. I was done with that life, done with those people. Only then could I finally fall asleep. 7 The next morning, my homeroom teacher called me to her office. Liam waited for me just outside the door. The atmosphere inside was heavy. Several other teachers were in the office, all trying not to stare. Ava was standing next to the teacher, her eyes red and puffy. A bright red handprint was stark against her pale cheek. My teacher’s voice was stern. “Chloe, did you ask your friends from off-campus to assault Ava?” I was completely baffled. I looked at Ava, and she gave me a tiny, secretive wink. This was all her own doing. Before I could even figure out how to respond, Caleb burst into the office. He must have heard the news. Seeing Ava in tears, he charged at me without a second thought, grabbing the collar of my shirt. “Is it because I like her and not you? Are you that pathologically jealous?” The comments popped up. [So romantic! The male lead always protects the main girl, no matter what!] [You just can’t get this kind of love with anyone else!] Right. Totally. Liam, who had been waiting patiently outside, saw Caleb put his hands on me. In a flash, he was inside, driving a knee hard into Caleb’s stomach. Caleb crumpled to the floor, gasping. I gently tugged on Liam’s sleeve, trying to calm him down. Then I turned to the teacher. “If Ava is accusing me of arranging an attack, she needs to provide proof, not just force me to defend myself against rumors.” A smug smile played on Ava’s lips. She pulled out her phone and called the townie from last night, putting him on speaker. “Tell them,” she said sweetly. “Was it Chloe who told you to corner me?” “…Yeah, yeah, it was Chloe,” the guy’s voice crackled through the phone. “She promised us smokes to do it.” Ava hung up and looked at me, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “There’s your proof. What do you have to say for yourself now?” [Wait… isn’t Ava supposed to be a sweet, innocent girl? This feels a little… calculated.] [And why is she pulling out her phone in front of a teacher like it’s nothing?] [Plus, she sounds awfully familiar with that townie on the phone…] The truth was obvious, but the outcome was a joke. The teacher, not wanting to deal with it, just told us all to drop it and stay away from each other. I sighed. What else could I expect? I was the bottom-ranked screw-up. Ava was a top student. 8 Back in class, Ava was still putting on a show, her eyes red and teary. Classmates gathered around her, asking what was wrong. She wouldn’t say a word, just kept shooting me wounded, tearful glances. A little while later, members of the student council came in to do a random contraband check. I emptied my backpack onto my desk. It was filled with review books Liam had bought for me. He’d made me a whole study plan. When the student council president got to my desk, he reached inside and pulled out a vape. But I’d thrown all that stuff away. My eyes met Ava’s. She gave me another one of her innocent little blinks. I finally got it. It was her again. Within the span of a single morning, I was being dragged back to the office. Liam followed me in. Before the teacher could even start yelling, Liam spoke, his voice flat and calm. “It’s mine. It has nothing to do with Chloe.” I stared at him in disbelief, trying to understand why he would do that. [He’s so in love. He’s taking the blame for her now, and later, he’d literally kill for her.] [After Chloe dies in the bathroom, her own family is too ashamed to claim her body. Liam is the only one who arranges a funeral for her.] [In the original book, Liam is basically the villain. To get revenge for Chloe, he tries to run Caleb over with his car.] [But he doesn’t have the main character’s plot armor. Caleb just ends up with a broken leg. Liam is burned alive in the crash.] … Reading those comments, tears started streaming down my face, hot and unstoppable. The teacher hadn’t believed the vape belonged to Liam, but seeing me cry so pitifully, she must have thought she’d made a mistake. Liam was a model student. She gave him a short lecture about curiosity and let us go. In an empty stairwell, I threw myself into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and sobbing. “Why are you so stupid?” Liam stood there, stiff and awkward. His voice was hoarse. “…Don’t cry.” I was about to answer when the flash of a camera phone blinded me. It was Caleb. He’d heard that Liam took the fall for me and had come looking for drama. He found it. Me, wrapped around Liam. He’d taken the picture to show Ava, to prove Liam wasn’t worth her time. He sauntered over, pinching my cheek with a smirk. “Nice work, Chloe. You’ve got this idiot wrapped around your little finger. As a reward, how about I take you to that motel tonight?” He turned to Liam, his voice dripping with venom. “You still don’t get it, do you, genius? I sent her to seduce you. All she had to do was crook her finger, and you came running. Pathetic, isn’t it?” I looked at Liam frantically, wanting to explain, to deny it. But everything Caleb said was true. Liam’s gaze shifted between me and Caleb. Finally, there was only silence. [The villain was just quietly crushing on her from afar. When she suddenly approached him, he thought it was a gift from the heavens. He never imagined it was all a game.] [I think he’s going to cry. My poor boy.] Liam turned and walked away. Seeing his lonely, retreating back, I yelled, “Liam! You can’t just leave without letting me explain!” He paused for a heartbeat, then kept walking without a backward glance.

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