It was a week after graduation, and I was killing time scrolling through the Northwood University accepted students’ forum when a title snagged my attention. [My boyfriend got into Northwood, and his personal doormat is buying him a condo.] I frowned, clicking the link. The poster was in our graduating class, same as me and Leo Sterling. I hoped this wasn’t going to be about someone we knew. The post continued: [My BF grew up in his doormat’s house, and he’s so sick of her. Getting into Northwood was his ticket out.] [But she’s insisting he’s ‘used to living in a big house’ and that the dorms are too cramped, so she’s buying him a place near campus.] [Question for upperclassmen: is the new development by the East Gate or the one by the West Gate more convenient for freshmen?] [Because this is going to be our little love nest, obviously. 😉 ] The sheer, shameless audacity of it all made me laugh. I tapped out a quick reply. [Why not both? I hear freshman year is split pretty evenly between the two sides of campus.] I was about to screenshot it and send it to Leo with a caption like, Get a load of this, when my phone buzzed with a message from him. [Chloe, I was just thinking. I hear the freshman classes are on both sides of campus. Maybe we should just get one place at the East Gate and one at the West.] I stared at my phone. The words blurred. Wait a second. Was I… was I the doormat? 1 Leo Sterling and I grew up in the same house. His parents died in a car crash when he was five, and my father, unable to bear the thought of his best friend’s son going into the system, brought him home to live with us. For more than a decade, I believed we were the most important people in each other’s lives. My own parents had even hinted, more than once, that if we ended up together, the Sanford family fortune would one day be ours to share. But the Leo I knew was cautious and reserved, so mindful of his position that he’d never even dare to reach for a serving dish at the far end of the dinner table. Could that boy be the same person who was letting some girl call me his “doormat” on a public forum? My hand trembled as I clicked back to the thread. The user ID was RainyDaysJess. The profile picture was a selfie of a girl with huge eyes and a pointy chin, the classic Instagram-influencer face. I racked my brain, trying to place her among Leo’s friends. Nothing. The replies were already piling up. [Who’s your boyfriend? Sounds like a big deal!] RainyDaysJess replied: [He’s only the top scorer on the SATs in the entire state! We’ve been together for a month now! <3] A cold fist clenched around my heart. A month? That was right after graduation. For the six months leading up to it, I had been away at a training camp at Northwood, selected as a candidate for the International Math Olympiad team. I had been completely buried in work, and I’d let my check-ins with Leo slide. But would he really do this? It didn’t feel real. I’m not sure, I told myself. Let’s see what else they say. It could be a crazy coincidence. I kept scrolling. [Wait, so your BF lives in the doormat’s house? Isn’t that like, his foster family? Why would you call her that?] RainyDaysJess: [OMG you guys have no idea. His foster sister is SO annoying. She’s obsessed with him and smothers him constantly.] [But her family’s loaded, so my boyfriend says to just let her buy him whatever she wants. It’s not like it’s his money, right? Use it or lose it.] My fingers flew across the keyboard, testing a theory. [If she’s such a good little doormat, why hasn’t she bought him that Patek Philippe watch all the celebrities are wearing? If she hasn’t even done that, she’s not trying very hard.] My phone buzzed again. A new message from Leo. [Chloe? You there? Dad said the condos near Northwood are a great investment. And once you retake your SATs, if you can get into Northwood too, we could even live together.] A second message appeared. [Oh, by the way, my birthday’s coming up, and I saw this watch…] My reply was terse. [What watch?] He sent a picture of a Patek Philippe. The price tag read $28,000. It was the exact one I’d mentioned in the forum. I stared at the message, a bitter, metallic taste flooding my mouth. There was no more uncertainty. The “Dad” he was referring to was my father, Robert Sanford. For eighteen years, my father had treated Leo like his own son. He’d been so careful with Leo’s fragile pride, so conscious of his loss, that he often favored him over me in front of friends and family. I had been admitted to Northwood months ago, a guaranteed spot secured by my gold medal win at the Olympiad. But to keep Leo from feeling pressured or stressed, I’d let my parents tell him I was just taking a six-month "gap semester" to travel. When I won the medal, I asked the school not to publicize it. We wanted to surprise him. So, when I didn't show up for the SATs, Leo naturally assumed I'd slacked off for half a year and given up on college. And now? Now he was planning to move in with another girl while casually asking me for a luxury watch and two condos? Did he really see me as his personal ATM? I took a deep, steadying breath and typed my reply. [Okay.] Then I screenshotted the entire conversation and sent it to my best friend, Maya. Her reply was instantaneous: [HOLY SHIT! That bastard! Leo is really like this?] I typed back, my hands still shaking. [I wish I knew.] Maya: [Hang on. I’m going to find out who this ‘RainyDaysJess’ is.] Ten minutes later, a dossier of information landed in my inbox. [Jessica Raines. Goes to Westwood High, the school across town. Got into Northwood on an arts scholarship. Her parents own a small convenience store. Her Instagram is full of her flexing, but it’s all stolen pictures.] I clicked the link Maya sent. Jessica’s Instagram was a curated fantasy of designer bags, five-star restaurant meals, and exotic vacations. I recognized a few of the photos immediately as generic images from luxury brand websites. And then my stomach turned. She had the audacity to steal one of my photos—a shot I took from my family’s suite at The Empyrean Hotel last Christmas. But the post that made me physically ill was from the day before. It was a picture of her and Leo, their reflections caught in a storefront window. He had his arm around her waist, their hands joined to form a heart. The caption read: [Just a normal day with my genius boyfriend! He spoils me so much!~] Yesterday. The day Leo told me he was out playing basketball with friends and didn't reply to my texts for hours. The trust of eighteen years crumbled into dust. Maya’s text came through again: [Chloe, what are you going to do?] I was silent for a long time. Finally, I replied. [Don’t tip them off. I want to see how far they’re willing to take this.] I deliberately avoided Leo for the next few days. As expected, he got antsy. After three days, he texted me. [Chloe, did you talk to Dad about the condos?] I smirked. [He said it’s a great idea, but we should wait until you’re enrolled and have your class schedule before picking a location.] Leo: [Awesome! I knew I could count on you! By the way, my birthday party is next week. You should come.] For years, I had planned every single one of Leo’s birthday parties. I’d book a private room at his favorite restaurant, invite all his friends, and order his favorite kind of cake. This year, he was inviting me himself. But the phrasing—you should come—felt less like an invitation and more like a handout. Me: [Of course. Where is it?] Leo: [The Empyrean Hotel. I booked a private suite.] The Empyrean? That was one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. A suite there started at five thousand dollars a night. Where did Leo get that kind of money? I feigned surprise. [Wow, that’s fancy!] Leo: [Well, it’s my 18th birthday. A milestone. So, did you get the watch?] I fought back a wave of nausea. [I’m thinking about it.] Leo: [Thanks, Chloe! You’re the best!] As soon as I put my phone down, I called my father. “Dad, Leo asked me for a twenty-eight-thousand-dollar watch.” There was a pause on the other end. “Buy it for him, honey. It’s his eighteenth birthday, after all.” My voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “Dad! You know exactly how much is in my allowance account. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” My dad sounded genuinely confused. “What are you talking about? I transferred sixty-six thousand dollars into your account last month. Did you already blow through all of it?” My bank card had always been managed by him. He said it was to help me learn financial responsibility, and I never thought to question it. Sixty-six thousand dollars? Leo had never mentioned a word of it to me. Suddenly, I knew exactly how he’d paid for the suite at The Empyrean. But I couldn't let my father know. Not yet. Not until I had undeniable proof that the boy he’d raised with such care was a complete viper. “Oh,” I said, forcing a ditzy tone. “Right, I forgot. Leo’s holding onto it for me. Hey, speaking of which, could you send me a list of all the money you’ve put away for me over the years? I want to see how much I have. It’ll be fun to feel like a rich heiress for a day.” My dad chuckled, the sound warm and indulgent. “Alright, you little tycoon. I’ll have my assistant email you the statements in a bit.” I hung up, my hand shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. A few minutes later, an email arrived from my father’s assistant. I opened the attached spreadsheet, and my breath caught in my throat. February 2018, Chinese New Year gifts: $12,800 2019 Birthday Gift, wire transfer from Father: $20,000 2020, Competition winnings and allowance: $55,000 2021, High School Graduation Bonus: $88,000… I had never seen a cent of this money. Every time I asked, Leo would just smile and say, “I’m saving it for you. It’ll be a surprise one day.” Apparently, the surprise was that he was pocketing all of it. With trembling fingers, I dialed my bank’s customer service line and gave them my social security number to check my balance. “Ms. Sanford, the current balance on your account ending in 8866 is five hundred seventy-two dollars and thirty cents.” I nearly crushed my phone in my hand. $572? The absolute nerve of him. “Can you… can you tell me if there have been any large withdrawals recently?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “Yes, ma’am. In the last three months, there have been three transfers out: one for $15,000, one for $28,000, and one for $10,000. All three were sent to the same account, registered under the name Leo Sterling.” The world tilted on its axis. He hadn’t just stolen my money; he had brazenly transferred it directly into his own account. Where did he get the audacity? Two hours later, Maya arrived at my house with her cousin, a private investigator. After I explained the situation, her cousin pushed his glasses up his nose. “This is grand larceny. With these amounts, you could press charges right now.” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Jail is too easy. I want to ruin him.” The report the PI delivered the next day was even more shocking. It turned out my father hadn’t just been giving me cash; he’d also established an educational trust fund in my name. The current balance was over two hundred thousand dollars. And Leo, acting as my self-appointed “financial advisor,” had managed to get access to it. “This is a federal crime,” the PI said grimly. “But I found something else you might find interesting.” He handed me a file containing transcripts of text messages between Leo and Jessica Raines. It turned out Jessica wasn’t some rich girl at all; she was just a random student Leo had met on the Northwood forum. “Oh, and one more thing,” the PI added. “The suite at The Empyrean? It was charged to your debit card. The total was $5,888.88.” I burst out laughing, a cold, sharp sound that held no humor. “Leo, Leo, Leo. You really are one for the books.” He steals all that money from me and he can't even splurge on the party with his own stolen funds? With all the evidence I needed, I called my father. “Dad, did you know Leo has a girlfriend? He’s been pushing me really hard to buy him those condos. Says he wants to build a ‘love nest’.” My father’s voice sharpened instantly. “What?” I emailed him everything. The forum posts, the texts, the bank statements, the PI’s report. Thirty minutes later, he replied. “Go to the party as planned. I’ll handle things.” On the night of the party, I chose a simple white dress and light makeup. As I was leaving, my father handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box. “Just what you asked for,” he said with a grim smile. The suite at The Empyrean was opulent, already filled with a dozen of Leo’s classmates and a few girls I didn’t recognize. One of them, I presumed, was Jessica. Leo’s face lit up when he saw me. “Chloe!” He hurried over, his eyes immediately fixing on the gift box in my hands. His smile widened. “Happy birthday,” I said, holding it out to him. He reached for it eagerly, but I pulled it back slightly. “Leo, why don’t you wait until everyone is here to open your gifts?” His smile faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, even brighter than before. “You’re right, Chloe. A gift this special deserves an audience.” He ran his hand over the box, a greedy light shining in his eyes. I noticed a girl in a pink dress in the corner, staring daggers at me. She pushed herself to her feet and walked toward us. Her makeup was flawless, but it couldn’t hide the raw jealousy in her eyes. This had to be Jessica. “Leo, aren’t you going to introduce me?” I asked sweetly. He flinched. “Ah, this is… this is my…” Jessica didn’t wait for him to finish. She strode forward and looped her arm through his. “I’m his girlfriend, Jessica Raines. Freshman at Northwood.” I widened my eyes in mock surprise. “Girlfriend? Leo, when did this happen?” She glared at me, her voice dripping with venom. “You must be the clingy foster sister he’s always complaining about.” The room went silent. Every eye was on us. I laughed. “Clingy foster sister? Leo, is that how you describe me?” A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. “Chloe, I can explain—” Jessica cut him off. “Leo said you were annoying and that you smother him. Now that he’s gotten into Northwood and you couldn’t even pass your SATs, can’t you just leave us alone?” She was on a roll now, her voice rising. “Don’t think your family’s charity gives you any right to him. Everything Leo has, he earned himself. It has nothing to do with you. He can be with whoever he wants. Just because you have some pathetic childhood crush doesn’t mean you stand a chance against me.” It was so cliché it was almost funny. Jessica really needed to stop reading so many Wattpad novels. I took a moment to compose myself, then looked directly at Leo. “Is this really how you feel?” He avoided my gaze. “Chloe, you didn’t even get into college… we’re not on the same path anymore.” I stared at the boy I had once considered my closest family, my other half. My voice was ice. “If we’re not on the same path, then why are you shamelessly asking me to buy you a condo?” A murmur rippled through the room. The other students were now looking at Leo and Jessica with open contempt. “Asking his foster family for a condo to live in with his girlfriend? Does this guy have any shame?” Jessica’s face flushed. She pointed a finger at me. “Don’t you dare make things up to slander my Leo! He’s the top scorer in the state! Who the hell are you to talk to him like that?” I didn’t even bother looking at her. I pulled my phone from my clutch. “Would you all mind if I connected to the TV for a second?” Before anyone could answer, I had mirrored my screen to the massive flat panel on the wall. A video started playing—security footage from a coffee shop. The audio was crystal clear. “Once I get the condo, we’ll move in together,” Leo’s voice filled the room. “What about Chloe?” Jessica asked. “Doesn’t she have a thing for you?” Leo scoffed. “That idiot? You think she can compare to you? She’s just my personal ATM.” Leo lunged, trying to grab my phone. “Chloe! Let me explain!” I sidestepped him easily. “Explain what? How you spend my family’s money while calling me an idiot behind my back? How you were planning to use a condo bought with our money to build a love nest with your new girlfriend?” His face was ashen. “I… I wasn’t…” Just then, the suite doors swung open. My father walked in, flanked by several men in sharp suits. “Leo Sterling,” my father’s voice was like a chip of ice. “As of today, you are no longer a part of the Sanford family.”

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I’ve never been one for beating around the bush. So when I found the string of fiery texts between my firefighter fiancé, Nate, and some girl I’d never heard of, I didn’t fall apart. I didn’t scream. I just handed him his phone and waited, my face perfectly calm, for an answer. The silence in our apartment stretched until it was thin enough to snap. Finally, he spoke, his voice raspy. “She’s a girl I rescued from a fire. She’s… going through some things. I’ll admit, for a second, I felt something.” “But Ava,” he pleaded, “we’re high school sweethearts. We made it this far. I swear to you, I’ll cut it off. Clean break.” I stared into Nate’s eyes, so full of earnest desperation, and pushed down the sharp, twisting pain in my chest. I nodded. The wedding was still on. I had no idea how quickly that promise would turn to ash. On our wedding day, one of his fellow firefighters, Ben, burst through the chapel doors like a human cannonball. “Nate! It’s Maya! She found out you’re getting married! She’s on a roof downtown, says she’s gonna jump!” The diamond ring, the one he was about to slip onto my finger, hovered in the space between us. Then it fell. The clink it made against the polished floor was the loudest sound I’d ever heard. Nate was a blur, a lightning strike bolting for the door. I stared at his back, my eyes burning so hot I thought they might bleed. I pulled every ounce of air into my lungs and screamed. “Nate, if you walk out that door right now, we are done! Do you hear me? We are over!” He paused for a fraction of a second—a flicker of hesitation. He didn’t even turn around. And then, he was gone. The vow he’d made to me had become a joke, and I was the punchline. … The wedding devolved into a grotesque circus. The whispers of our guests were a thousand tiny needles in my ears, a high-pitched hum of pity and speculation. Our parents rushed to my side, their faces masks of confusion and panic. Nate’s teammate, Ben, just stood there, his face the color of raw liver, wringing his hands. “Ava… I’m so sorry. It’s just… Maya, she has severe depression. Nate saved her life before… and she’s latched onto him. She says he’s the only one who can talk her down. It’s a life-or-death thing, he didn’t have a choice. Please don’t be mad at him…” Ben had been Nate’s shadow for three years. He used to greet me with a wide, easy grin, calling me “sis” like we were already family. Now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. I wondered how many of Nate’s dirty little secrets Ben had helped him hide. How many late-night calls from Maya had he helped cover up? A suffocating pain bloomed in my chest, and for the first time, I truly understood the taste of betrayal. My parents gripped my hands, their own voices tight with unshed tears. “What is going on? He’s on leave for his own wedding! Who in God’s name needs to be rescued by him right now?” Nate’s parents stood nearby, his mother frantically dialing his phone over and over, muttering through gritted teeth, “You just wait, Ava, honey. I’m going to make that son of mine crawl back here. If he doesn’t, I swear I’ll have his hide!” The fallen diamond ring was kicked around by shuffling feet on the red aisle runner, rolling further and further away, just like my heart, which had been stomped into the ground. I stood frozen in my white dress, the train pooling around my feet like a heavy, rain-soaked cloud. I had imagined my wedding day a million times. Not once did I imagine this: a pathetic one-act play where the groom abandons his bride at the altar for another woman. For five agonizing hours, I called Nate 108 times. He didn’t answer once. I watched my phone screen light up and go dark, light up and go dark, until the battery finally died, leaving me with a silent, black rectangle. The late afternoon sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the church, casting a mottled patch of light on my empty ring finger. The light should have been warm, but it felt colder than ice. The guests trickled away, leaving behind a battlefield of wilting flowers and half-eaten cake. Suddenly, the world began to spin, the church dissolving into a massive vortex. The last thing I heard before the blackness swallowed me was my mother’s ragged, terrified scream. 1 I woke up in a hospital. The sterile, cold scent of antiseptic filled my nose. A nurse was changing my IV bag. Seeing my eyes open, she spoke in a soft voice. “You need to take it easy now. You’re watching out for two people. No more stress. You have to take care of yourself.” Two people? I stared at the stark white ceiling as a single, silent tear escaped and traced a cold path into my hair. I was seventeen when Nate stuffed a crumpled love note into my locker, so nervous he practically tripped over his own feet. In college, we were long-distance. He once drove his clunker of a car for twenty hours straight through three states, just to surprise me for my birthday. The day he graduated from the fire academy, he held me tight, his eyes red with emotion. “My job is to run into fires for strangers,” he’d said. “Imagine what I’d do for you.” Seven years. The memories flashed through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. I looked at the barely concealed joy on my parents’ faces, and on Nate’s parents’ faces, and forced a smile that felt more painful than crying. How could I tell them? I was pregnant with the child of the man I’d loved for seven years, but our story was over. At seven o’clock that evening, after being gone for six hours, Nate finally showed up. He was pale, and he looked at me with just the right amount of guilt in his eyes. “Ava, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “Maya… I couldn’t just let her die. It’s my duty.” My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I swallowed the bitterness and asked, my voice cold, “Are you the only firefighter in the entire city? Did they all die today?” “She doesn’t jump yesterday, she doesn’t jump tomorrow. She picks our wedding day, and you’re the only one who can save her. What kind of game do you think she’s playing, Nate? Do you really think I’m that stupid?” He fell silent. After a long moment, he took my hand. It was freezing. His voice was tight. “Ava, in seven years, I have never asked you for anything. Not really. But I’m asking you now. Please, don’t make a big deal out of this. Don’t let it get back to Maya. With her condition… she can’t handle that kind of stress.” I stared at the plea in his eyes, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible fist, the pain so sharp I couldn’t breathe. He should be apologizing to me, not asking for favors. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He never once thought about how humiliated I was, left alone at our wedding. He never considered why I would have collapsed, why I was in a hospital. The first words out of his mouth, the first thoughts in his head, were all for another woman. Tears fell like broken pearls, hitting the white hospital blanket and blooming into small, dark stains. It took all the strength I had to force out a single word. “Fine.” He let out a breath, the relief on his face so obvious it was like a slap. Then, he delivered an even crueler blow. “Maya’s really unstable because of the wedding. I think… I think we should postpone it for a little while.” “I need to be there for her, through her treatment. Once she’s in a better place… maybe three months. Just three months, and we’ll have the ceremony then, okay?” His voice was a careful, gentle probe. I’d waited seven years. What was three more months? But looking into his eyes, so full of worry for someone else, I suddenly knew. I couldn’t wait another day, let alone three months. The tiny life inside me seemed to sense my despair, giving a faint, fluttery twitch. I placed a hand on my stomach. A six-week-old life. It was once the product of our love. Now, it felt like it was mine alone. I slowly pulled my hand from his grip. My voice was as still and dead as a stagnant pond. “Nate.” “My memory isn’t what it used to be. But I remember being seventeen, and you being too nervous to walk straight after you gave me that note.” “I remember the first time you held my hand, your palm was sweating so much. We walked for three blocks and you never let go.” “I remember when we graduated college, you held me and promised you’d take care of me forever, that you’d make me the happiest bride in the world.” “All these years… you remembered I hate onions, that I need hot tea during my period, all my little quirks… I really thought you loved me more than life itself.” I lifted my head and looked him straight in the eye, the dam finally breaking. “But today, Nate. Today, I can’t feel your love at all. Not a single drop.” The weight of seven years washed over us. Nate’s eyes reddened, his throat worked, and a single tear fell from his eye. “But Ava,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Right now… Maya can’t be without me.” She can’t be without me. The words were a sledgehammer, shattering the last fragile piece of hope in my heart. I looked at him and suddenly, I laughed. And as I laughed, the tears flowed even faster. “Then go be with her.” He froze, as if he couldn’t believe I’d let him go so easily. But in the end, he didn’t say another word. He just turned, and walked out of my life without a backward glance. 2 The next day, I checked myself out of the hospital. As I rounded a corner in the hallway, I ran right into Nate. He didn’t even see me at first. All his attention, all his tenderness, was focused on the girl at his side. She wore an oversized hospital gown, her face a ghostly white. He was holding her up, half-supporting, half-embracing her, like she was a porcelain doll that might shatter at any moment. So this was Maya. This was the woman who could make him abandon me at the altar. Perhaps my stare was too cold, because she saw me first. She flinched like a startled rabbit, instinctively hiding behind Nate and clutching at the fabric of his jacket. Only then did Nate look up. His brow furrowed instantly, his tone dripping with unconcealed annoyance. “Ava, what are you doing here? Maya’s just starting to stabilize. Whatever it is, we can talk about it at home. Don’t make a scene at the hospital, you’ll scare her.” Maya peeked out from behind him, her voice as thin as a mosquito’s buzz. “Ava… it’s really not like that between Nate and me… Please don’t misunderstand.” I clutched the ultrasound report in my hand, my knuckles turning white. But I managed a faint, cool smile. “You’re overthinking it. I’m just here to sign my discharge papers.” Without another glance at them, I turned and walked away. A strange look flickered across Nate’s face, as if my calmness had unsettled him, leaving an unexpected void in his chest. He reflexively reached out to grab my arm. I stopped and my gaze landed on a smudge on his coat—it looked like makeup. His eyes followed mine. He glanced down at the stain, then started to take off his coat to offer it to me. I sidestepped him. He stood there, stunned for a moment, then hurried after me, reaching for the coat I was now holding. “Let me take that. It’s your favorite, isn’t it? I’ll get it cleaned for you.” I shook my head, not even looking at him. I walked over to the nearby trash can and dropped the coat inside. My voice was as bland as if I were commenting on the weather. “I don’t want it anymore. It’s stained. You know how I am about stains. I have a thing about cleanliness.” The expression on Nate’s face froze. He knew I wasn’t just talking about the coat. I was talking about us. He opened his mouth to say something else, but I was already gone. As I walked out of the hospital, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Nate. [Don’t be mad. I ordered that Napoleon cake you love from the bakery downtown. It’s on its way.] When the delivery arrived at my apartment, I stared at the familiar pink box and felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. This was his go-to move. Every time he screwed up, he’d use this cake to smooth things over. It always worked. I mechanically scooped a bite into my mouth. The cake that used to be a decadent, sugary treat now tasted of nothing but ash. Nate didn’t come home that night. Tearing a seven-year relationship out of my life was more painful than I ever could have imagined. I didn’t sleep a wink. In the pre-dawn hours, I got up and started packing. The matching hoodies hanging side-by-side in the closet. The framed photos of us on the bookshelf. The little notes he left on the fridge. Every object was a knife, twisted with memories, stabbing me in the heart. I remembered the year we graduated. Nate had just joined the fire department and was working insane hours. But he’d used his first precious day off to see me, his eyes shining like they held constellations. “Ava,” he’d said, “as soon as I save up for a down payment, we’re getting married.” Three years later, he was on one knee, holding out a deed and a diamond ring, his voice trembling. “I did it. I promised you a home, and I keep my promises.” The sun was bright that day. I cried in his arms for what felt like hours, feeling like the luckiest person on earth. We painted the walls ourselves, struggled to assemble IKEA furniture, and filled the balcony with sunflowers, my favorite. He said he wanted to make sure the sun would always shine in our home. But now, there was no longer a place for me in this home. As I taped up the last box, the sun was rising. The moving truck I’d called had just pulled up downstairs when both sets of our parents arrived. I didn’t say anything. They still couldn’t understand how two people who were about to get married two days ago were now tearing their lives apart. My mom and dad just sighed, telling me, “If you want to come home, just come home.” But Nate’s mom grabbed my hand, refusing to let go. “Ava, please, just give him one more chance. What happened at the wedding… he was just confused for a moment. He loves you, I know he does…” I remained silent, simply motioning for the movers to continue. Just as his mom’s voice was growing hoarse from pleading, the front door opened. Nate was back. And he wasn’t alone. He had brought Maya into our home. She was wearing his jacket, clinging to his arm like a timid kitten. The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Every pair of eyes was fixed on them. Nate’s mother’s voice trembled. “Nate… did you… did you really do something to hurt Ava?” His father was shaking with rage. “Who is this girl?!” Nate didn’t answer. His eyes swept over the nearly empty living room, finally landing on me. “You’re moving out?” “Yeah,” I said calmly. “Back to my parents’.” He seemed to relax a little. “That’s probably for the best. I’ll come get you before the new wedding date.” He said it so casually. Then he stepped aside, pulling Maya in front of him. “This is Maya. She’s a patient with depression I rescued on a call. The department asked me to look after her for a while to help her stabilize.” His explanation was so matter-of-fact, it made all of our outrage seem petty and small-minded. Maya immediately offered a sweet smile and reached out to take his mother’s arm. “It’s so nice to meet you. Nate takes such good care of me. He even said he’d bring me home for dinner tonight. Since everyone’s here, why don’t I cook? You can all taste my cooking.” Nate’s mom looked at me, her expression pained. “Ava, maybe… maybe we should all just sit down and talk this through?” I was about to refuse when Maya turned to me, a glint of something sharp and provocative in her eyes. “You should stay too, Ava. The more the merrier, right?” CRACK. The sharp, clean sound of a slap echoed through the silent room. My eyes flew open in shock. It was my mother. She had slapped Maya across the face. “Mom!” I cried out instinctively. My mom turned to me, her eyes red, her voice shaking violently. “You are my daughter. Do you think I don’t know you?” “You’ve been with him since you were seventeen. You’re twenty-four now. Seven whole years! You quit that amazing job at the design firm for him, stayed home to play house for him, learned to cook his favorite meals, you even know which damn drawer he keeps his stinking socks in! Do you think you would be walking out today if your heart wasn’t completely shattered?” “I don’t need my daughter to marry a rich man, but I will not stand by while he brings another woman into your home to humiliate you. I will not tolerate it!” “If you won’t stand up for yourself, then I’ll do it for you!” My mother’s words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and my eyes instantly burned with hot tears. Maya clutched her cheek, tears welling in her eyes, but she didn’t dare make a sound. Nate immediately shielded her, his face dark enough to storm. “Ava! How old are you? Still running home to mommy and tattling…” I didn’t let him finish. I lunged forward and, with all the strength I had, I slapped him too. “Nate, you’re the one who deserves to be hit!” After I hit him, I grabbed the piece of paper from the coffee table drawer and threw it in his face—the still-warm ultrasound report.

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I was the girl next door. Chloe Reed was the girl who fell from the sky. They say the girl next door never stands a chance against the one who comes out of nowhere. Not long after she transferred, someone saw them in the empty stairwell after school. They said that Jackson King—my Jax, the boy who bowed to no one—was standing there with his head down like a chastened puppy, listening to her lecture him. Later, when Chloe and I had a falling out, all it took was a quiet word from him: “I don’t want to see Aubrey Hale at this school again.” My parents, terrified of jeopardizing their business with the King family, had me transferred by the end of the week. After that, I vanished from his world. I didn’t dare even show my face where he might see it. But then, on his birthday, he showed up at my door, drenched by the rain, his face a wreck of misery and hurt. “Did you forget?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Did you forget it was my birthday?” 01 They say the girl who’s been there forever can’t compete with the girl who shows up out of the blue. I used to scoff at that. But then I sat in the school auditorium, watching Jackson’s eyes follow Chloe Reed as she danced across the stage, and I saw it. The unfiltered adoration. The love he couldn’t hide. In that moment, I believed it. And I finally believed the rumors, the ones about the untouchable Jax King, the king of Crestwood High, letting this new girl put him in his place in a deserted stairwell. The confession I’d held in my heart, the one I was always waiting for the right moment to share, would have to stay buried there forever. When the music ended, I applauded with the rest of the crowd, my hands moving mechanically as the girl on stage took a glittering bow. Jax stood up and headed for the wings, undoubtedly to find her. I stood up, too, and walked out of the auditorium. Outside, the evening air was cool. I raised my hand, letting the little wooden star charm he gave me years ago dance in the breeze. “Aubrey… for you.” I looked at the crudely carved star in his palm. “What is it?” Seven-year-old Jax had been watching some soap opera with his aunt and had learned a new phrase. “It’s a promise,” he’d said, his cheeks pink. “You have to wear it. It means you have to like me best, forever.” “And I’ll always protect you, Aubrey.” My eyes stung with the memory. I closed my fist around the charm. A kid’s promise. It’s not supposed to mean anything. But I’d let it mean everything. Jax King, the boy who broke rules and hearts with equal impunity, was the secret joy and the central truth of my entire youth. … Chloe Reed had transferred in at the start of the semester. She was beautiful, a trained dancer, and her arrival was an event. The girls in my class immediately cast her in their imaginary high school drama. She was the perfect transfer student protagonist—the quiet, talented girl who catches the eye of the school’s resident bad boy. The bad boy who would, inevitably, tame himself for her. A lot of guys tried to ask Chloe out. Someone even joked that the only one left was Jax. Jax, lounging at his desk, had stretched languidly and shot the guy a look of pure disdain. “Her? Is that a joke?” See? That’s how untouchable he’d seemed. I never really believed the rumors about them, because I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Because he’d never said the words to me, never told me he was with someone else. But now I knew. It was time to pull back, to put a real, measurable distance between us. For years, I’d always walked home with Jax. I can’t remember exactly when it started, but recently he always had some excuse for me to go on ahead. He could have just told me the truth. I wouldn’t have made a scene. I wouldn’t have clung to him. After all, we were never really together in the first place. 02 On Sunday evening, we had study hall, and homework was due. Jax was the kind of student who, when asked for his assignment, would just give the TA a blank look and say, “Didn’t do it.” He used to listen to me, though. Everyone knew it. So whenever he’d pull that stunt, they’d come and complain to me. That’s what happened tonight, except no one could even find him. He’d slipped out after the last bell, probably to find Chloe. “Aubrey, Jax didn’t turn in his homework again, and he’s not in his seat. Can you…” “Just hand in what you have,” I said, offering a small, tight smile. “From now on, you don’t need to tell me about his homework.” My classmate just nodded, his expression confirmation that the rumors about Jax having a girlfriend must be true. My detached tone was all the proof he needed. When class resumed, I bent over my test prep book. Before Chloe, my plan was for Jax and me to go to Northwood University together. Now, the plan was just for me to work my ass off and get into Northwood. For my own dream. Jax didn’t come back for the entire period. The teacher on duty frowned from her desk at the front of the room and asked where he was. Every head in the classroom turned to look at me. I kept my eyes on my paper, refusing to acknowledge them. He finally reappeared during the second period, sliding into his seat without a word. A moment later, a classmate leaned over and told him the principal wanted to see him in his office. Jax seemed to snap out of a daze. As he walked past my desk, he paused for a fraction of a second. I didn’t look up. I was wrestling with the final problem on a math worksheet, the kind where I could solve the first part but my brain would freeze on the second. After I finally figured it out, my deskmate, Maya, leaned over. “Hey, is everything okay with you and Jax?” she whispered. “Everything’s fine.” “Really? Because you used to get more worked up than anyone when he skipped class or blew off his homework.” I flinched. She was right. “That was then,” I said, my voice flatter than I intended. “I’m not going to bother with his stuff anymore.” “Oh,” she said, her eyes wide as she put the pieces together. “So it’s true… about him and Chloe Reed?” I looked down, saying nothing. The final bell rang, and a few minutes later, Jax ambled back into the room. A folded piece of paper landed on my desk. I opened it. Go home without me. I stared at the familiar scrawl, then calmly folded the note and tucked it away before returning to my work. The classroom was a chaotic swirl of noise and motion as everyone packed up. I took my time, organizing my binder. Suddenly, a hush fell over the room. Maya gasped, and I followed her gaze to the doorway. Chloe Reed was standing there. She tilted her head, gave Jax a little come-hither crook of her finger, and then turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop myself from looking at Jax. A helpless, almost tender smile spread across his face as he grabbed his backpack and followed her out. The second he was gone, the classroom erupted. “Holy crap, so it’s real.” “Wow. I always thought he and Aubrey were endgame. You know, the bad boy and the good girl. But I guess the bad boy and the dancer… that kind of fits better, you know?” “Don’t be an ass. Does anyone else feel kind of bad for Aubrey?” “They’ve known each other their whole lives.” “See? The girl next door never wins.” … Maya was looking at me, her expression full of pity she was trying to hide. I slung my backpack over my shoulder. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, but I forced a smile. I would not cry. Not here. I couldn’t let them see how much it hurt. If I did, I’d be the butt of their jokes for the rest of the year. “I’m fine,” I told Maya, meeting her worried eyes. “Jax and I have only ever been friends. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Okay… See you tomorrow. Get home safe.” Once I was out of the noisy school building, I gripped the straps of my backpack, my knuckles white. I bit down on my lip, hard. But the tears came anyway, hot and silent, blurring the streetlights. A heavy, aching pressure built in my chest. How could he just… start liking someone else? Out of nowhere? My vision swam. In my ears, I could hear a boy’s voice, clear and cocky, from a lifetime ago. “Don’t worry, Aubrey. I can do anything. And I’ve got you. For life.” 03 “Aubrey, why didn’t you wait for me this morning?” Jax had been late to school. He cornered me after first period, his tone laced with a playful grievance as he placed a carton of milk on my desk. My hand, busy scribbling vocabulary words, paused. I glanced at the milk. “I already had breakfast,” I said. “And I’m not going to walk with you anymore. I’m getting to school earlier from now on.” He slid into the empty seat beside me, looking genuinely confused. He propped his chin on his hand. “Did I do something to piss you off? We’ve always walked together.” “It’s different now.” I set down my pen and took a deep breath, forcing a small smile. “You have a girlfriend, Jax. We need some distance.” His expression froze for a second before realization dawned. “She won’t care. She knows about you…” “I care.” I enunciated each word clearly. “I don’t want to be the target when you two eventually have a fight about something. I don’t want to be the problem.” “Aubrey…” Jax King was not known for his patience. The fact that he’d even let the conversation go this long was a minor miracle. I could see his was running out. His face hardened. He shot up from the chair, the legs screeching against the linoleum, a sound that grated on my already raw nerves. “Fine,” he bit out. “Whatever you want.” Then he was gone. I lowered my head, closing my eyes against the sudden burn. I’d spent all of last night on my balcony, letting the cold air whip at me, debating what to do. Should I keep playing the fool, pretending I was just his friend while hiding this suffocating crush? Or was it time to let our lifelong connection finally fracture? They say you can’t hide the way you look at someone you love. If I kept following him around, it wouldn’t be fair to me, and it wouldn’t be fair to Chloe. No girlfriend on earth wants her boyfriend’s overly close “girl-best-friend” hanging around. From that day on, Jax didn’t speak to me. If we passed in the hall, his eyes slid right over me as if I were a stranger. The girl by his side was no longer me; it was Chloe. He introduced her to his entire circle of friends, the world that had once been ours. She was his first love. The girl he was crazy about. I focused on my studies. Like everyone else, I heard the stories of their epic romance through the grapevine. Chloe was starving herself for a dance competition, and Jax had his family’s personal chef make her low-fat, high-protein meals to bring to school. A jock from a rival school wouldn’t stop harassing Chloe, cornering her in an alley after school. Rumor was, Jax beat him so badly he ended up in the hospital. On the next monthly exams, I reclaimed my spot as first in our class. My guidance counselor once told me to stop worrying so much about Jax, that he was dragging down my academic potential. The Kings had more money than God; it didn’t matter if Jax graduated or not. That afternoon, I stared out the window at the spectacular sunset. “Aubrey, where do you want to go for college?” It was a hot evening last summer. Jax was sitting next to me, idly twirling a strand of my hair around his long finger. “Northwood University,” I’d said without hesitation. “That’s so far.” I never told him the real reason. It wasn’t just because Northwood was a top-tier school. It was because I had to get away from here. Away from that house. My father was a cliché. The second he made money, he found a new woman. My mother refused to divorce him, convinced it was her fault for not giving him a son. In the dead of night, she would sometimes break down, pointing a shaking finger at me and screaming, asking why I couldn’t have been a boy, then her husband would have stayed faithful. She finally did have a son. My father’s return to the family was brief. And once my little brother was born, my mother poured every ounce of herself into him. She had her son now, her security for old age. “Okay… then I’ll go to Northwood too,” the boy beside me had boasted. “You’re such a klutz, you’ll be a mess without me there to look out for you.” That cocky, grinning boy was the only light in my broken world. I was desperate to hold onto him. I was willing to waste all my time on him, to sacrifice my own ambitions. Even if I didn’t get into Northwood, as long as I got into whatever school he did, that would be enough. 04 A rumor started spreading that Chloe was a homewrecker who had stolen Jax from me. Coming back from the restroom with Maya, I saw Chloe run past me down the stairs, her face buried in her hands, sobbing. A second later, Jax came storming up the steps. He saw me, and his face contorted with rage. He lunged forward and slammed me against the wall, his hand closing around my throat. “I thought you wanted to stay away from me, Aubrey,” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “What the hell is this?” I clawed at his hand, my lungs burning. Maya rushed forward, trying to push him off. “Are you insane? We were just in the bathroom! Let her go, you’re choking her!” Jax flinched back as if he’d been burned, snatching his hand away. I slid down the wall, gasping, sucking in ragged breaths of air. “You’re pathetic, Aubrey,” he spat down at me. “Aubrey, are you okay?” I stayed crouched on the floor, coughing, tears streaming down my face. Maya wrapped an arm around me, rubbing my back. “It’s okay, Aubrey. I don’t know what’s wrong with him and his crazy girlfriend.” I wiped my eyes, biting my lip to keep from sobbing aloud. The look on his face… it was pure hatred. For a second, I thought he was actually going to kill me. The boy I knew was gone. Completely and utterly gone. Later, a classmate cautiously slid a phone under my desk. Someone had posted an anonymous message on the Crestwood Confessions page, accusing Chloe of being the “other woman” who broke up Jax and me. Everyone believed it. The comment section was a cesspool of slut-shaming, each insult more vicious than the last. When I got home that evening, I planned to immediately send a message to the page administrator to clear Chloe’s name. The red marks on my neck were already bruising. But I never got the chance. I walked into my house to find my parents sitting on the living room sofa, their faces like thunder. They were waiting for me. My stomach dropped. I knew this wasn’t good. A glass flew past my head and shattered against the wall behind me. “What did you do to piss off Jackson King?” my father roared, slamming his fist on the coffee table. “Do you have any idea how much of our business depends on the Kings? Are you trying to ruin me?” I just stood there as my mother’s shrill voice joined in, calling me a useless, money-draining curse. My father told me I was going to go over there and apologize to Jax. Right now. The house was cold, but I was shivering from a chill that came from deep inside. I don’t remember how the screaming match ended, only that I was bundled out the door and marched to the Kings’ front porch. I had a speech prepared. I was going to tell him I didn’t write the post, but that I would get it taken down. But the door swung open, and he was standing there, looking down at me from the top of the steps, his eyes like chips of ice. The words died in my throat. I lowered my head. I bowed. And I apologized. He just stared at me blankly, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t want to see you at school anymore, Aubrey.”

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1 A searing pain tore through my gut, and everything went black. I checked my phone, then the fruit stand ahead. After a split-second hesitation, I rushed over, started a livestream, and began frantically shoving mangoes into my mouth. The chat exploded: Is this guy insane? Look at the owner’s face! What a way to go viral! Viewers spiked. Someone called the police as I counted down. Ten minutes later, I collapsed on cue, foaming at the mouth. In my past life, I was framed for raping and murdering a student. My girlfriend Mia gave police a video of me dragging the girl inside. My own parents testified they heard screams from my room. That sealed it. Twenty years in prison, I never understood why. They welcomed me home with a feast—then I woke as a ghost, reading the headline: Evan Cross, Guilty, Commits Suicide. When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the night of the frame-up. Fine. If they wanted a criminal, they’d get one—with an ironclad alibi. I’d eat my way into the ER. Let’s see them frame me now. The moment I lost consciousness, the live chat went from mockery to alarm. Is he allergic? This isn’t a joke! Swollen lips, trouble breathing, hives breaking out all over… that’s anaphylactic shock! Somebody call 911! The fruit stand owner’s anger had morphed into stunned horror. He took a step back, holding his hands up as if to ward off a ghost. Sticky, yellow juice covered my hands, the taste in my mouth a cloying mix of sweet and bitter. Only one thought burned in my mind. Even if I die, I’m dragging every last person who wronged me down to hell with me. The wail of the ambulance siren was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. As the paramedics rushed toward me, the fruit stand owner grabbed my hand, his voice trembling. “Kid, whatever it is, it ain’t worth this. If you die, I’ll never sell another mango in my life!” His words were a punch to the gut. It was a complete stranger, a man I’d met only moments ago, who showed me this kindness. The irony was suffocating. I gripped his hand back, my voice a desperate rasp. “Sir, please… can you keep the stream running? All the way to the hospital?” In the chaos, unnoticed, I slipped a small paring knife from his stand into my pocket. The chat was a mix of advice and scorn. Don’t get stuck with his medical bills, old man! It’s not worth it! That owner has the worst luck in the world. Wait… isn’t that my coworker? Evan? He’s the quietest guy I know. What the hell is going on? Seeing that comment, a sharp pang shot through my chest. It was tragically funny. In my last life, the only people who ever believed in my innocence were my colleagues. I’d been arrested right after work that day, expecting to be released quickly. But then my father came to visit me in the holding cell. His first words were, “Just confess, Evan.” “Son, don’t be stubborn,” he’d said, his face a mask of weary disappointment. “As your father, I can’t cover for you any longer.” I had stared at him, completely bewildered. The lead detective on the case, a man named Miller, was a pillar of righteousness. He’d grabbed me by the collar, his eyes bloodshot with rage. “You animal. Do you have any idea she was just eighteen? She had just gotten into college.” The evidence against me was impossibly perfect. Mia had even provided a video she claimed showed me kidnapping the victim. The fruit stand owner hesitated now, looking at the phone in his hand. I clutched it tighter, turning my frantic gaze on the approaching paramedics. “If you don’t let me keep streaming, I’m not going to the hospital!” I screamed. Two of them moved to restrain me, but I didn’t hesitate. I pulled the paring knife from my pocket, my eyes wild with resolve. “You come any closer, and I’ll kill myself right here!” The live chat erupted. WHOA! What the hell happened to this guy? He looks… desperate. That look in his eyes isn’t an act! He’s completely lost it. My coworker Evan is about to get married, he has a house, a car… why would he be doing this? Fruit Stand Owner’s internal monologue: Oh god, that’s my knife! A police car screeched to a halt. The man who stepped out made my blood run cold. Detective Miller. He strode forward, his brow furrowed with a mixture of concern and authority. “Son,” he said, his voice firm but patient. “Whatever’s going on, we can solve it. Don’t do something you can’t take back.” The familiar words sent a shiver down my spine. The live chat fell silent. In my past life, this was the man who had personally locked me away. The fruit stand owner rushed forward. “Kid, I’ll do it! I’ll stream for you! Just please, put the knife down!” Every eye was on me. Clutching the phone in one hand and the knife in the other, I spoke, my voice shaking. “I don’t trust anyone. Stream this. All the way to the hospital.” The viewership had swelled to twenty million people. The owner nodded, taking the phone. I finally let them help me onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. The chat was already buzzing with conspiracy theories. On the way to the hospital, the police identified me and contacted my parents. My phone rang. It was my father. The fruit stand owner held the phone up for me, and I nodded. “Evan, you are a complete disappointment,” my father’s voice boomed, cold and hard. “You might as well just die in that hospital. Making a scene like this… do you have any respect for me at all?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I’m telling you right now, you get online and you apologize to everyone, or you’re not welcome in this house ever again.” He hung up. The chat was divided. Some praised my father for his strict morals; others called him heartless. Detective Miller, riding with us in the ambulance, muttered under his breath, “That’s one hell of a father.” His words reached me. I turned to look at him, the truth a burning coal in my throat. But who would believe me? The man in that video looked exactly like me. The police themselves had verified it wasn’t a fake. And my own parents had corroborated the story. What kind of parents would frame their own son? Miller caught my gaze, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. I thought of the girl, the one who had just started college. I dredged up the hazy memories of that night and beckoned him closer with a finger. I leaned in and whispered a few words in his ear. Miller shot up so fast his head hit the roof of the ambulance. His face was a mask of grim seriousness. “Are you telling me the truth?” I nodded. This time, let’s see how they frame me now. I lay in a hospital bed, the steady drip of the IV a metronome marking the time. The chat was filled with comments of “Boring,” “Just another clout-chaser,” “Epic fail.” But I had what I needed: twenty million witnesses. Then, I saw the time on my phone’s lock screen. 8:31 PM. The time was a recurring nightmare. In the video, that’s when it all began. “I” dragged the girl through the door, started tearing at her clothes, spewing vile obscenities. If I’d had more time after being reborn, I wouldn’t have resorted to such a desperate measure. My parents never came. Mia never came. The fruit stand owner, who had stayed with me, looked increasingly grim. “Kid,” he said, trying to comfort me, “maybe they’re just caught up with something. Don’t overthink it. What do you want to eat?” Yeah, right. Right up until the moment they poisoned me, I had foolishly believed they were being threatened, that it was all some grand conspiracy to protect them. But after they fed me the poison, they had my body cremated immediately and fed the media a story about my suicide. “You can turn off the stream now,” I told him. As he fumbled with the phone, it rang. He answered, and a sharp voice cut through the speaker. “This is Detective Miller. Is Evan Cross awake? Put him on.” He knew. He must have been watching the stream. I ignored the phone and looked directly into the camera lens, a small, cryptic smile on my face. “Detective Miller, I think you’re wondering how I knew what I told you. You’ll have your answer in a few days.” I ended the livestream, leaving a torrent of questions and accusations in the chat. The phone call was still connected. Miller’s voice was tight with suppressed fury. “If you knew this was going to happen, why didn’t you stop it? She was only eighteen—” “Her whole life was just beginning,” I finished for him, my voice eerily calm. It was the exact phrase he’d used on me, over and over, during my interrogation. My life had just been beginning too. I’d just paid off my mortgage and car loans. I was about to propose to Mia. And then they all betrayed me and threw me in a cage for twenty years. Even then, I never blamed them. I came out wanting nothing more than to live a quiet life with my family. I never imagined they wanted me dead. “Detective,” I said softly, my eyes starting to burn, “today is my birthday.” I hung up and looked at the fruit stand owner. “Sir, I’d really like a bowl of noodles.” He jumped to his feet, ready to run out and buy them, but then he sat back down, pulled out his phone, and handed it to me. “Here. Order whatever you want. It’s on me. I hope from now on, you don’t face any more hurdles you can’t overcome.” Last time, I was so busy with work that I didn’t even remember my birthday until the next day. Four days later, I was arrested. The light in the hospital room was dim, but for the first time, it felt like a light was finally dawning on my own life. The fruit stand owner watched me eat, his eyes glistening. “My daughter,” he said, his voice thick with pride and sorrow, “she just got into college this year. She’s out there delivering for DoorDash to save me some money.” The girl who died… she had been delivering food to earn money too. It couldn’t be a coincidence. “She’s a better person than me,” I said, my voice gentle. “Brave and thoughtful.” Late that night, after the IV was finished, I went home. The fruit stand owner had left in a hurry after a phone call, but not before I managed to stuff all the cash I had on me into his pocket. I opened the door. The apartment was clean and tidy, just like last time. Mia was in bed, stirring as I entered. “What took you so long?” she murmured sleepily. “You must be exhausted.” She wrapped her arms around me. My body went rigid. I couldn’t close my eyes. This was the woman whose video had cost me twenty years of my life. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, just like I always did, then went to the bathroom to shower. What now? Later, as her steady breathing filled the room, I took her phone. Under the cover of darkness, I slipped out and went to my best friend Leo’s house. I burst in and handed him the phone. “I need you to back up everything on this to my cloud drive,” I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. “Then install a tracker on it for me.” Leo rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Evan? What’s the rush? Did Mia cheat on you or something?” I ignored the question. “Five thousand dollars. If you can’t do it, I’ll find someone who can.” “I’m on it, I’m on it!” He got to work while I crashed on his couch. Around five in the morning, I took the phone and headed back, picking up breakfast for Mia on the way. Leo’s words echoed in my head. “Dude, I checked everything. There’s nothing weird on there. Don’t be paranoid.” The next few days passed in a tense, quiet haze. I lived in a state of constant dread, but I also wrote a will and had it notarized. Upon my death, all my assets are to be donated to charity. On the fifth day, I was at work when he arrived. Detective Miller, in full uniform, approached my desk, his expression conflicted. “Evan Cross, you’re a suspect in a rape and murder investigation. You need to come with us.” I calmly held out my hands to be cuffed. My coworkers stared, a few of them shrinking back in fear. After the mango incident, I was lucky my boss hadn’t fired me on the spot. Miller seemed to notice their reactions. He glanced at my manager’s name tag. “Mr. Davis, just so you know, we’re bringing him in for questioning. It doesn’t mean he’s guilty.” It was something he never said in my past life. The city blurred past the windows of the police car. I calmly recounted to Miller everything my parents and Mia would say, every piece of “evidence” they would provide. “Detective,” I said, “I have an idea. We can’t figure out why they’re framing me, right? So why don’t we put on a show? Livestream the whole interrogation. Maybe the real killer is watching.” They all knew I had an ironclad alibi for that night. And they knew Mia’s video was also considered solid evidence. It was a paradox. Miller agreed. As soon as I stepped out of the car at the station, a hand cracked across my face. It was my father, his voice trembling with rage. “You animal! I raised you to be a man, not this!” He grabbed my ear, forcing me to look away from him. “Confess right now and beg for the victim’s forgiveness!” I followed his gaze, and my blood ran cold. The man standing there… it was the fruit stand owner. But in my last life, I never once met the victim’s family. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. The fists clenched at his sides slowly relaxed. He stepped forward, placing himself between me and my father. The official police department livestream had just gone live, and the chat was already a chaotic mess. The Mango Man saga continues? Why are they at a police station? HOLY SHIT, this stream is from an official government account! Is it just me or does the fruit stand owner look like he’s been crying for days? Did the kid trash his stand again? The moment my parents saw the cameras, they instinctively flinched away. “This case is full of contradictions,” Detective Miller announced, his voice carrying an official weight. “I do not believe Evan Cross is the killer. I can’t disclose the details at this time.” My mother pushed forward, her voice a dramatic wail. “Oh, the sin of it all! I heard the poor girl screaming that night! But I was a coward! I didn’t say anything, to protect my son!” Mia stepped up next to her, her face a mask of righteous fury. “Detective, are you really going to cover for this monster? You saw the video! He raped and killed that girl! He doesn’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness!” They were strangers to me. After living through it once, I was able to remain calm. I asked the question I never got to ask last time. “Mom, Dad, Mia… why are you framing me?” The live chat, swayed by their performance, turned on me. The screen filled with insults: “Maniac,” “Murderer,” “Sicko.” Miller cleared his throat. “The forensic analysis of the video is not yet complete. Furthermore…” I tugged on his sleeve, a small gesture that the viewers immediately misinterpreted as me having bribed him. The chat turned on him, too. They were even more confused when the fruit stand owner spoke up, his voice firm. “I believe Mr. Cross. There’s something else going on here.” The chat spiraled. Why were the detective and the victim’s father on my side? Just then, a man in a lab coat hurried out. “Detective Miller, the preliminary analysis is complete. The video is authentic.” The chat exploded with rage, demanding my immediate execution. But I only asked one question. “Mr. Technician, the video timestamp is 8:31 PM, five days ago, correct?” The technician, caught off guard, nodded. A connection sparked across the millions of viewers watching. The chat froze, then erupted. Five days ago? NO WAY! A person can’t be in two places at once! 8:30 PM? Mango Man was in the ER! I WATCHED THE WHOLE THING LIVE! I let a smirk touch my lips and turned to my family. “On the night in question, I was in the hospital having my stomach pumped for a severe allergic reaction to mangoes. So tell me, how could I have also been at home, raping and killing someone?” Panic flashed across their faces. It was fleeting, but the cameras caught it. My mother quickly recovered. “I heard my son’s voice with my own ears!” she insisted. “There’s no mistake! Do you think I would condemn my only son if I wasn’t sure?” My father snorted. “You probably went to the fruit stand a day later and staged the whole thing to create a fake alibi. Stop the act, Evan.” He turned to the police. “Officer, I’m telling you, the man I saw that night was him. I’ll swear to it.” Their words were designed to bury me. I glanced at my father. “Dad,” I said softly, “why don’t you check your call history? See what time you called me while I was in the hospital?” “You’ve been a liar your whole life! I don’t believe a word you say!” he shot back, turning away without even reaching for his phone. Mia stepped forward again. “Detective, the man in that video is absolutely him. Even the way he… moves… it’s exactly the same!” My breath hitched. To protect someone I didn’t even know, she would say something so intimate, so damning? Who the hell were they protecting? The chat was hooked, but some were starting to think critically. Could this guy have known this was coming? Is that why he staged that whole scene on that specific day? To create an alibi for a crime he knew he was going to be framed for? Holy crap, I think you’re right. But a person can’t be in two places at once. Someone is lying. Three possibilities: 1. The video is fake. 2. The parents and girlfriend are lying. 3. Aliens messed with the detective’s and the fruit stand owner’s memories. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth! Detective Miller looked past the young technician. “Dr. Albright,” he called out to an older man who had just arrived. “We need your expertise on this video.” He turned back to my family, his voice cold. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but a young woman is dead. I suggest you start telling the truth.” They knew we had no other evidence. They were confident. “Interfering with a judicial investigation and providing false testimony are serious crimes,” Miller added. I saw Mia flinch, but my mother grabbed her arm, her expression defiant. “I’m just an ordinary citizen doing my duty, providing evidence. What are you going to do to us?” She raised her voice, a ringing declaration of false piety. “If I’m lying, may I never rest in peace!” Her oath was like a knife in my back. Why would my own mother go this far? The chat was just as baffled. This is too weird. Are there two identical Evans? I started to wonder myself. But I was an only child. I always had been. In my past life, the one thing I could never understand was why, even after I’d served my time, they still felt the need to poison me. The key to this mystery had to be me. Dr. Albright, the senior forensic expert, emerged with his findings. He looked at Detective Miller and shook his head slightly. “The video is authentic, timestamped five days ago at 8:31 PM. No signs of digital manipulation or AI synthesis. Unless…” The entire chat, the room, the world, held its breath.

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It was a national holiday. My little sister wanted to lie down across the entire back seat to sleep, so my mother told me to get in the trunk. I obeyed, folding my thin, frail body into a painfully contorted position. “Don’t crush the luggage,” my mother said, her voice flat. Then she slammed the trunk shut. The suffocating heat of the enclosed space and the lurching of the car triggered my asthma. I fumbled in my pocket for my inhaler, only to find the canister was empty. An image flashed in my mind: my sister handing me the inhaler earlier that day, a knowing, malicious smile on her face. As my vision blurred, I heard my mother’s voice, cold and distant. “We’ll just drop her off at my cousin’s place. Give her a little extra money. I’m so sick of looking at her.” Tears streamed down my face, but I was smiling. Don’t worry, Mom. You won’t have to be sick of me for much longer. 1. In the final moments of consciousness, they say hearing is the last sense to go. I heard my mother finally mention me, her voice, which had been so warm a moment before, turning to ice. “We were supposed to have a nice, relaxing trip, and now we have to make this stupid detour to my cousin’s…” She clicked her tongue, the sound full of irritation. The mere thought of me was enough to ruin her mood. Today was a holiday. The whole family was going on a trip to the capital, and my mother had told me to pack a bag. I was surprised, and so happy. I thought, for a moment, that I was finally being included, that I was finally a part of the family. I never imagined she was planning on throwing me away, like a piece of trash. In the dark, stuffy trunk, the only sound was my own ragged, desperate breathing. Cold sweat poured down my face. My chest felt like it was being crushed. Suffocation and despair washed over me in a final, crushing wave. At the very end, I curled into a ball, like an infant in the womb, and instinctively whispered the name I had spent my entire life hoping would answer me. Mom… Mom… I died. My soul drifted out of the dark trunk. I floated past my sister in the back seat, sleeping peacefully under a pink, hand-knitted blanket my mother had made for her. My mother was texting my great-aunt, who was being evasive, leaving her messages on read. She typed again, her patience wearing thin. [Cici is very capable. She can handle all the housework, you won’t have to worry about a thing. She’s not very bright, not cut out for school, so you don’t need to waste money on that.] She was like a desperate salesperson trying to offload defective merchandise. I reached out, wanting to smooth the worried frown from her brow, to tell her, Mom, don’t worry. I’m dead now. The baby you tried to abort, the stain you could never wash away, the landmine you were always trying to avoid, is finally gone from your life. The car soon arrived at my great-aunt’s house. Only my mother got out. “Oh, I was starting to think you weren’t coming! Shouldn’t you be enjoying the holiday?” “Auntie, we talked about this. Cici isn’t used to the city. I don’t have a choice…” My mother didn’t give her a chance to refuse, pulling a thick wad of cash from her purse. To my surprise, my great-aunt didn’t take it. She glanced at the money, her face a mask of conflict, but then shook her head. “You know how it is here. I don’t make the decisions in this house.” My mother knew it was a lost cause. Her frown deepened. “Where’s Cici? I’ve hardly ever seen the poor girl. Let her come out and say hello.” My great-aunt was trying to ease the tension. My mother turned and looked toward the trunk. Is she going to find me? What will she do when she finds out I’m dead? A sliver of dark anticipation bloomed in my chest. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” my great-aunt said, her voice dropping, “but if you hadn’t been so foolish back then, none of this would be happening. You have to pay for the mistakes you make when you’re young.” The comment struck a nerve. My mother’s face went cold. “We’re leaving,” she snapped, turning and getting back in the car without another word. 2. My mother hated me. She was the only person from her village to ever go to college, but she got pregnant during her freshman year. She was young, naive, and completely infatuated with my father, a man ten years her senior. She dropped out of school, cut ties with her family, and threw herself into a life she would come to regret forever. A year later, she showed up on my grandmother’s doorstep and left me there. She went back to school, got a respectable job in the city, and started a new family. She had a wealthy husband and a beautiful daughter. She was a success story, a happy, fulfilled woman. She never went back to the small, gossipy village that remembered her as a cautionary tale. Until I was fourteen. At my grandmother’s funeral. The woman I had only ever seen in photographs appeared before me. She was so young, she didn’t look old enough to be my mother. She went through the motions of the funeral with a cold, detached air, gave me an address, and said, “Come find me here.” Then she was gone. It was my first time in the city. I was like a stray dog, lost and scared. The apartment building had a security code. It was the first of many barriers I would never be able to cross. On the other side of that door was my mother, her husband, and her other daughter. I waited outside for a long time. It was nearly a hundred degrees. I was dizzy with the heat, sweat pouring down my face. As my consciousness began to drift, I thought of my grandmother. Whenever the other kids in the village called me a bastard, I would hide in the wheat fields, watching the waves of gold and green, and wait for her to find me. She would hold me, muttering angrily, “What’s so great about your mother anyway?” But then she would see my tears and soften. “It’s okay, Cici. When you’re a little older, your mom will come back for you.” I had looked forward to that day with all my heart. I never knew it would cost my grandmother her life. My mother did come for me. She arrived with her young daughter in tow, the smile on her face vanishing the second she saw me. That was the first time I felt the full force of her malice. She made no effort to hide her disgust. My very existence was a boomerang, returning to strike her down, to remind her of the past she had tried so desperately to bury. I was the living, breathing proof that her carefully constructed life was a lie. And then, her precious daughter started accusing me of bullying her. My mother finally snapped. She decided to get rid of me. “Alright, don’t be angry. We’ll just send her to a boarding school,” my stepfather said, his voice casual as he drove. “Ava wants to go to the theme park in the capital. You should book the tickets, look up some guides. Don’t waste your energy on this. We’re on vacation.” At the mention of a theme park, my sister, Ava, woke up immediately. She started chattering excitedly about what rides she wanted to go on, even offering to use her allowance to buy my mother a magic wand. They laughed together, a happy, perfect family. They had already forgotten about me in the trunk. Around noon, we finally arrived at the theme park. My mother checked us into a hotel. A princess-themed suite that cost over a thousand dollars a night. She didn’t even blink, because Ava liked it. Then she transferred a thousand dollars to Ava’s account. “Sweetie,” she cooed into the phone, “go check out the gift shops at the entrance. Buy whatever you like.” My mother never held back when it came to her daughter. She gave her anything she wanted, raised her like a princess. Ava lived in a pink, lace-filled room full of toys, while I slept in a storage closet. My world was a three-foot-wide cot, surrounded by Ava’s cast-off toys, surrounded by the love my mother showered on her. Just like now. I stubbornly followed my mother, wanting to reach out with my ghostly hand and secretly, gently, hold hers. But then Ava squeezed between us, passing right through my soul, and wrapped her arms around my mother’s waist with a natural, easy affection I had never known. 3. I ate lunch with my mother. At home, there were only ever three chairs at the dinner table. I always sat on a small stool in the corner, eating my food quickly and silently. Ava would deliberately put spoiled food on my plate. I would eat it without complaint. I would look at my mother, hoping she would praise me for being good, for not wasting food. But her gaze was always full of disgust, as if she were looking at a filthy stray dog. Then she would turn and put a piece of meat in Ava’s bowl, telling her to eat up. I was a rat in the shadows, watching a life I could never have. Now, pretending I was still alive, I sat beside her, fulfilling my pathetic childhood dream of eating at the same table as my mother. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. It was a message from my great-aunt. [The Miller family in the village is willing to take Cici in.] She hesitated, then added: [But you know they have that simple-minded son. They’re probably looking for a child bride for him.] “Oh, right! Isn’t Cici still in the trunk?” My stepfather finally remembered me, slapping the table. My mother froze, a flicker of confusion on her face. Then she remembered, and her brow furrowed in annoyance. “What’s the rush? It’s not like she’s going to die.” She scoffed, the sound laced with the irritation of having her good mood spoiled. [Thanks, Auntie. It’s fine, Cici’s old enough. I’m just giving her a place to stay. What happens after that is her own business. I’m not getting involved.] After sending the message, she visibly relaxed. “It’s pretty hot today. Do you think Cici will be okay in the trunk?” my stepfather asked, a hint of unease in his voice. “She grew up in that village without air conditioning and she survived, didn’t she? Besides, it’s not completely airtight. It’s only been a few hours. What’s the worst that can happen?” she said, smiling as she served Ava more food. Ava hated hearing my name. She quickly distracted my stepfather with a story. The three of them were soon laughing again, and I was forgotten. A dull, delayed ache spread through my chest. My mother didn’t care about me. I shook my head, trying to comfort myself. It’s okay. I don’t want to ruin her good mood. And I haven’t seen a big city theme park before. I want to ride the roller coaster with my mother. I followed Ava from ride to ride. I watched my mother smile at her, and I pretended she was smiling at me. Deep in my soul, something began to crumble. In the afternoon, my stepfather’s phone rang. It was an unknown number. [Hello, is this Mr. Evans? I think there might be something rotting in your car. It’s a hot day, and the smell is starting to bother people. You might want to come check it out.] My stepfather was confused, but my mother snatched the phone from his hand and hung up. “It’s probably just Cici, trying to get attention,” she said with a cold smirk. “What a nuisance. Just ignore her.” “If someone calls to tell me to come pick up her body, I’d still think it was a hassle.” The words were spoken so casually. But they hit me like a physical blow, a knife twisting in my gut. I drifted away from my mother, and saw the crowd gathered around my stepfather’s car. They were holding their noses, pointing at the trunk. “What on earth is in there? That smell is not right. It’s like something died.” The man leading the group seemed to be a vlogger, a camera hanging around his neck. His face was lit with a grim excitement. “You guys don’t think… there’s a body in there, do you?” he whispered.

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My best friend got a divorce. She left me with her son… and a billion dollars. I raised him from a boy into a man, and just as I was ready to embrace my life as a single, wealthy woman, my surrogate son saw the box of ultra-thin condoms on my nightstand during a video call. That night, he scaled the school wall and raced home in a frenzy. He slammed me against the wall, one hand closing around my neck, the other tearing open the small foil packet. “Kate,” he rasped, his voice a low growl. “If you’re so desperate for a man, why not me?” 1 Slap! The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the silent room. Nolan’s assault finally stopped, his fingers loosening their grip on my throat. I scrambled to sit up, gasping for air. My lips moved, but for a moment, no sound came out. Finally, I managed to choke out a few words. “You’re supposed to call me your godmother.” A livid red handprint was already blooming on Nolan’s cheek, but he didn’t say a word. The torn wrapper lay on the white sheets, a startlingly obscene piece of evidence. The events of the last few minutes were beyond anything I could have imagined, and a sick, anxious knot was tightening in my chest. I pulled up the fallen strap of my nightgown, desperate to pretend this wasn’t happening. “I understand you’re upset about me dating,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “No kid wants a blended family. I get it.” “I promise,” I continued, forcing a placating tone, “I’ll wait two more years. Until after you graduate college. Then I’ll think about my own life.” “But you have to promise me you won’t act out like this ever again.” “Act out.” Such a simple, sanitized phrase to cover the grotesque scene that had just unfolded. But it was clear my attempt to smooth things over was a pathetic fantasy. Nolan wasn’t taking the olive branch. His gaze was a blade of pure mockery. “Kate, I almost fucking took you right here, and you’re calling it ‘acting out’?” 2 The blood drained from my face, a roar filling my ears. “Nolan, shut your mouth!” I hissed. He fell silent. The atmosphere in the room turned thick and suffocating. I clutched the bedsheets, my mind racing, trying to pinpoint where everything had gone so horribly wrong. Was it because he was abandoned by his parents at twelve, stunting his emotional growth? Or was it my own inexperience? Had I failed to guide him through the turbulent years of his adolescence? A storm of chaotic thoughts swirled in my head. Before I realized what was happening, Nolan had collapsed onto my lap, burying his face in my stomach. “Kate,” he murmured. He was back to using my name, refusing to call me his godmother. “It’s just us. It’s always been just us. Isn’t that enough?” No. It wasn’t. If I were twenty-two and he were a handsome, predatory twenty-year-old stranger whispering those words to me, I would have fallen head over heels. But I’m thirty. And Nolan isn’t a stranger. He’s my best friend’s son. The boy I’ve raised for the last eight years. My godson. 3 I stared into the darkness, sleep a million miles away. The man who was supposed to be lying next to me, a promising new prospect from my recent dating efforts, had been unceremoniously punched out of the hotel room by Nolan hours ago. Now, the usurper himself was wrapped around me from behind, his arms a steel cage around my waist. “Kate,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble against my back. “If you can’t sleep, we could still put that little thing to use.” I squeezed my eyes shut. A soft chuckle vibrated through me, and the arms around my waist tightened. Half an hour later, Nolan’s breathing evened out into the deep, steady rhythm of sleep. Young people always fall asleep so fast. I continued to stare at the ceiling until the sudden glare of my phone screen illuminated the room. Kate, are you awake? I’m planning on coming home. Two simple messages. That’s all it took to demolish the fragile sense of calm I had spent hours trying to build. Regina Miller. My best friend, ten years my senior, and Nolan’s biological mother. After nearly a decade of living abroad, she was coming back. If I had received this news before tonight, I would have been ecstatic. Eight years! I’d raised her son for eight long years. The thought of finally unloading the burden who had kept me single and shackled for almost a decade should have been a dream come true. But life is a cruel joke. Nolan’s words from earlier echoed in my mind, a deafening roar. “If any man will do, Kate, then why not me?” I lay awake the entire night. It wasn’t until the first hint of dawn painted the sky that I finally replied. When’s your flight? Nolan and I will pick you up. 4 Regina’s return was sudden. Her flight was the next afternoon, leaving me no time to process the wreckage of the previous night. I had to plaster a serene mask on my face and prepare to greet the best friend I hadn’t seen in years. Nolan, however, was a different story. Since last night, his recklessness had only intensified. While I was brushing my teeth, he crowded in behind me, his taller frame easily eclipsing mine. “You smell so good, Kate.” His hot breath ghosted across my neck. Before I could even spit out the toothpaste, his mouth was on mine, his tongue aggressively sweeping away the foam. “Nolan!” I shoved him away, my hands trembling. I raised one to strike him again, but it faltered mid-air. Under his defiant, brazen gaze, I finally slapped him, hard. “This is the last time I’m telling you,” I seethed, my voice dangerously low. “I am your godmother!” That was the second time I’d hit him. In all the years before, even when he was a snarling twelve-year-old fresh from overseas, covered in bruises and bristling with anger, lashing out at everyone, I had never once laid a hand on him. Slap. Nolan’s head snapped to the side. A thin trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his lip. The dam of my feigned composure instantly cracked. “…Does it hurt?” I reached for him, but he flinched away. He stood just outside the bathroom door, his large frame hunched, radiating a dark, obsessive energy. My own weakness overwhelmed me. It took everything I had not to break. I finally managed to turn my head away, unable to meet his gaze. “Regina’s flight gets in tonight. You’re coming with me to pick her up.” 5 We waited at the arrivals gate for what felt like an eternity before Regina finally appeared. Her hair was styled in glamorous waves, and she wore a chic trench coat, looking as if time hadn’t touched her at all. I was about to raise the welcome sign when I saw her stop just around the corner to share an intimate kiss with her current husband. I froze, my eyes glued to the man at her side. He was holding a little boy, no older than three. The three of them stood together, a perfect, glowing portrait of a happy family. “Kate.” Nolan’s voice, tinged with a weary resignation, broke through my stupor. “I’m not crying. Why are you?” I was crying for him. Until this very moment, neither of us had known about the little boy. Without a word of warning, Regina had paraded her new child in front of the son she had abandoned. 6 The silence in the airport café was heavy enough to crush. In an attempt to break the tension, Regina gently pushed the little boy forward. “Teddy, I taught you some English. Say hello to your brother.” The little boy just fidgeted, refusing to speak. When she pressed him, he burst into tears. Regina flushed with embarrassment. Her husband quickly stood up. “I’ll take him for a walk,” he said in heavily accented English. As they left, Regina let out a sigh of relief. She turned to Nolan, a flicker of apology in her eyes. “Nolan, how are your classes? Are you adjusting well to being back in the States?” Nolan’s expression hadn’t changed since we’d arrived—a flat, emotionless mask. He wasn’t lashing out, but he wasn’t welcoming either. “I’ve been in college for two years already. Isn’t it a little late to ask?” Regina forced a weary smile. “Nolan, can’t you just try to have a normal conversation with me?” He scoffed. “Aren’t there enough people in your life to talk to?” The atmosphere soured further. I instinctively jumped in to defend him. “He caught up with his high school curriculum just fine. He got into a great university, and he’s thinking about studying abroad for his last two years.” Regina seized the lifeline. “Studying abroad is a great idea! I still have some connections in Europe, I could help Nolan…” “Not interested. I’m not going abroad.” Nolan cut her off without a shred of hesitation, his gaze cold and resolute. But his next words sent a chill down my spine. “And I’m never leaving Kate.” 7 Regina missed the hidden threat in his words and simply accepted it. “Well, that’s fine too. I’m planning on settling down here, so I’ll be around to help out.” The word “settling” made Nolan’s face darken. “You’re staying here? Regina, I thought you loved living in Europe. What are you doing back here?” His barrage of questions made Regina’s smile falter. “Nolan! Daniel already has his green card. Our family will be together soon. Even if you don’t like them, you could at least pretend!” “Ha!” Nolan’s reaction was more explosive than when he’d first seen her with a new child. A dark, unreadable expression flashed across his face as he glared first at his mother, then shot a deep, piercing look at me, before storming away from the table. Now it was just me and Regina. “Kate,” she said, taking a few deep breaths to compose herself. A gentle smile finally returned to her face. “You’ve become even more beautiful. It looks like life has been good to you these past few years.” “I was high-risk when I was pregnant with Teddy, so I spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital. I didn’t have much energy to keep in touch.” She paused, her eyes softening. “Watching you with Nolan… you have a much better relationship with him than I ever did.” I listened in silence until her last sentence. I couldn’t stop myself from looking up. “Where are you planning on living, now that you’re back?” “I have a villa in the suburbs. We’ll move in there.” “And Nolan? Is he moving in with you?” At this, Regina fell silent. After a long moment, she managed a small, tight smile. “Kate, you’re my best friend, so I’ll be blunt. I have a new life now. Even if Nolan moved in with us, it would be awkward for him, and for us. It would be better for everyone if he just… stayed with you.” Tears started to well in my eyes. “That’s not fair.” It wasn’t fair to Nolan. And it wasn’t fair to me. 8 I never expected Nolan to reappear and drag me away from the table. I could hear Regina calling after us, but her voice was lost in the chaos. The next thing I knew, I was being shoved into a car, my face a mess of tears. Nolan leaned in close. He gently kissed away each tear as it fell. “Don’t cry,” he murmured. “I know she just dumped me on you again. But I can’t help it… Kate, I don’t have anywhere else to go.” No. That wasn’t true. He had places to go. When Regina divorced his father, she’d fought for the majority of their assets. She kept half and gave the other half… to me, to manage for Nolan. On his eighteenth birthday, I signed everything over to him. It included over thirty properties across the country. He could live in a different house every month of the year and not repeat. As if reading my mind, Nolan let out a bitter laugh. “Kate, I never had a home to begin with. If you abandon me too, where will I go?” His words shattered my resolve. I reached out and cupped his face, my vision blurred by tears. In that moment, I saw the twelve-year-old boy he used to be, fresh from overseas, his face and body a canvas of bruises from constant fights, his eyes full of hate and defiance. The first thing he ever said to me was a sneer. “So you’re the little charity case my father sponsored?” followed by a string of curses in a mix of English and his mother’s native tongue, each word filthier than the last. Eight years had passed. Now, the only filth that came from his mouth was of a different, more dangerous kind. “Kate, watching you cry like this doesn’t make me feel sorry for you. It just makes me want you more.” 9 After our rushed departure from the airport, Regina scheduled another meeting. She also transferred a huge sum of money into my account. Kate, I know I’ve wronged you. This is to compensate you. Nolan’s a grown man now. If he’s truly a burden, just ask him to move out. You can treat each other like siblings, just be there for each other when needed. Nolan read the messages over my shoulder, deleting them one by one with a cold smirk. “A burden? I’m so well-behaved. How could I possibly be a burden?” “You’re a burden to my love life,” I said flatly. I’d taken him in at twenty-two. The first six years were a constant battle, just learning how to coexist. After he turned eighteen, I’d gone on countless dates, and he had sabotaged every single one. The man from last night was the one I’d connected with the most, the one I’d been talking to the longest. Yes, we’d gotten a hotel room before even defining the relationship, but that was mostly my own desperation. I just wanted to be free of Nolan. “Hah.” He was angry again. He could never stand to hear me talk like this. “Kate, you knew saying that would make me angry, but you said it anyway. You need to be punished.” He bruised my lips, biting down until they were swollen and tender. I was too weak to push him away. I closed my eyes. “Nolan, can’t we just be like a normal brother and sister?” I wasn’t even asking him to see me as a godmother anymore. Just a sister to be respected. His lips pulled away just long enough to mock my foolish hope. “Have you ever heard of a brother who wants to sleep with his own sister?” I squeezed my eyes shut, a desolate wasteland spreading through my heart.

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A rich kid with a death wish loved to chase records underwater. To get his name in the books, he went on a solo cave dive, sixty meters down. Now, he’s trapped. As a professional rescue diver, I spent the better part of a day pulling him out of that rocky tomb. My reward? He went to the press and accused me of trying to murder him down there. The story was insane, but it stuck. I’d knocked him out, sure—it was his life or his ego, and I made my choice. But the damage was done. My reputation was in shreds. The upcoming international competition I’d trained my whole life for? Cancelled. My professional diving license? Revoked. A year passes. And then, I get the call. The same rich kid went back to the same cave. He’s chasing the same record. And he’s trapped. Again. In the one place on Earth that only I can reach. 1 I’d just finished my warm-up stretches when the emergency line buzzed. “Leo, you seeing this?” a frantic voice crackled on the other end. “It’s the Vance kid. Adam Vance. Went for a solo dive. It’s all over the news. They’re saying he’s missing, presumed dead.” Of course, I’d seen it. Every diver knows the cardinal rule: never dive alone. You always have a buddy. But Adam Vance wasn’t interested in rules. He was interested in clicks, in views, in the viral fame that came with thumbing your nose at death. And he’d chosen the deadliest stage imaginable: Wraithfall Caverns. A place no one had ever successfully navigated. No one except me. The name says it all. Wraithfall isn’t a cave; it’s a jagged maze, a treacherous labyrinth of twisting passages and sudden drops. It stretches nearly five miles, plunging to depths of over two hundred and sixty feet. The deeper you go, the tighter the squeeze. I have twelve years of experience, and the place nearly claimed me. For a hothead like Adam, with barely a year under his belt, it was a suicide mission. His whole stunt was a live-streamed spectacle for the world to watch. But five hours ago, the camera feed cut out. His rig had dropped, and he was wedged tight in a narrow bend in the rock. The Vance family had deployed a fleet of private rescue divers, but every single one had turned back, defeated. They didn’t have the skill to penetrate that deep. Their calls into the abyss were met with nothing but suffocating silence. Desperate, his father, the infamous tycoon Mr. Vance, found my number. He offered me five million dollars to bring his son back. I just asked him one cold, simple question. “If your son is already gone, or if an accident happens on the way back, am I liable?” The last frame from his stream showed his position clearly. He was trapped in the Serpent’s Tooth, the most brutal section of the cavern. It’s a one-way passage; only one person can fit at a time. I couldn’t guarantee I could bring him out in one piece. I couldn’t even guarantee I’d come out myself. Mr. Vance was silent for a long, heavy moment. Finally, he sighed, his voice cracking. “Just… get him out. Whatever it takes.” My team and I scrambled, assembling our gear as night began to bleed across the sky. The fading light meant visibility underwater would be near zero. This wasn’t a rescue anymore; it was a ghost hunt in the dark. But a life was on the line. Judging by the size of the oxygen tank Adam had on his back, he wouldn’t make it through the night. Relying on muscle memory and the scars the cavern had left on my mind, I bypassed the more complex routes. After more than two hours of navigating the crushing blackness, I finally reached him. 2 The gauge on his oxygen tank was hovering on empty. I worked fast, swapping his tank for a fresh one, then keyed my comms to relay the news to the surface. “He’s alive.” A roar of cheers echoed from the topside crew. Mr. Vance was probably weeping. I pulled out the specialized rock grinder I’d brought. Inch by inch, I began to chip away at the stone pinning Adam’s arm. The pressure had cut off his circulation for hours; the limb was numb, useless. If I didn’t free him soon, he’d lose it for good. I pushed harder, the grinder screaming against the rock, my own oxygen consumption skyrocketing with the effort. After a grueling thirty minutes, a final chunk of rock broke away. He was free. I motioned for us to head back, but as soon as he was clear, he did the unthinkable. He turned and started swimming deeper into the cavern. I grabbed him, shaking my head, pointing emphatically toward the way out. He shoved my hand away, his eyes wild with a stubborn fire. I didn’t need to hear him to understand. I’m already halfway there. I can’t turn back now. He was insane. Visibility was shot, and the path ahead was a deathtrap of tangled passages I hadn’t even fully mapped. The oxygen I’d brought wouldn’t last a round trip to the end and back, not for two of us. Not with him barely able to use one arm. Reason wasn’t working. I grabbed him again, trying to physically drag him back toward the surface. He exploded. He fought me like a cornered animal, his flailing limbs knocking the high-powered flashlight from my grip, plunging us into near-total darkness. Then his hands were at my face, clawing, trying to rip my oxygen mask off. In this claustrophobic hell, a full-blown fight would get us both killed, wedged in the rock for good. If that happened, the next rescue team would have to come from halfway across the world. I wouldn’t last that long. I signaled to my partner, Alex, who was hovering a few feet back. A quick series of hand gestures. Help me. Then, I feigned surrender, letting my body go limp. The moment Adam relaxed his guard, I struck. A swift, precise blow to the back of his head. He went limp in my arms. I knew the risks. A concussion in the crushing pressure underwater could easily lead to severe brain damage. But it was his brain or his life. I made my choice. I secured him to my leg with a length of rope and began the grueling ascent, towing his dead weight. The two-hour journey down felt like a lifetime on the way back up. My muscles burned, my lungs screamed. My backup oxygen tank was running dangerously low. With the last of my strength, I shoved his body upward, toward the shimmering surface. When I finally broke through, collapsing onto the shore, my entire world was a spinning vortex of pain and nausea. Every muscle ached, and my head felt like it was about to split open. I spent days recovering in the hospital. Adam was lucky; the doctors saved his arm. He woke up a few days later, seemingly fine. Mr. Vance, flanked by a sea of reporters, paid me the five million as promised, his words dripping with gratitude and praise. I thought it was over. Then, three days later, Adam woke up. And the first thing he did was tell the world I had tried to murder him. 3 The Vance family was powerful. Their name was practically a brand. Adam’s accusation hit the internet like a tidal wave. Reporters swarmed my hospital room, a forest of microphones and cameras eager to capture the scandal. Adam, looking pale and fragile for the cameras, spun his web of lies. “Everyone knows Leo. He’s a national hero, the first diver from our country to break the world record,” he began, his voice weak but clear. “And Wraithfall Caverns… that’s where he did it. That’s his legacy.” He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “So when he found me down there, the first thing he did was yell at me. He said I had no right to challenge his record. He has a big international competition coming up, you see. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone stealing his spotlight.” “I was only a third of the way from finishing the entire course,” he lied, his voice gaining strength. “My oxygen was fine, my energy was high. I would have made it if he hadn’t kept trying to stop me. He wanted me to give up, so he deliberately jammed me into that corner, crushing my arm against the rocks. He almost cost me my arm.” “When I still refused to back down,” he said, his eyes locking with the camera, “he tried to kill me. That blow to my head… it came from behind. He ambushed me!” “Any experienced diver knows that getting knocked out underwater is a death sentence. The lack of oxygen can cause permanent brain damage. He knew exactly what he was doing,” Adam spat, his voice rising with theatrical fury. “He wanted to make sure I could never dive again. He wanted his record to stand forever!” “I’m telling you all this today because the world needs to see the real Leo. The monster behind the hero’s mask. And I will make sure he ends up behind bars.” As he spoke, a smug, triumphant smirk played on his lips. Even pale and recovering, his face was a mask of absolute certainty. He knew he had me. 4 I was still in my own hospital bed when the media circus found me. They descended in a frenzy, shoving microphones in my face. “Mr. Leo, do you have a response to Adam Vance’s allegations? Did you endanger a man’s life to protect your record?” I shook my head, trying to cut through the noise with the simple truth. “If you can find another diver willing to go down there, they’ll find a section of rock near that bend with fresh tool marks on it. From my grinder.” I explained the situation. “Mr. Vance was uncooperative. If I had let him continue, he would be dead. Knocking him out was a last resort. I reported all of this to his father.” Just as I finished, Mr. Vance himself stormed into the room, his face purple with rage. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “Are you insane? You dare lay a hand on my son?” he bellowed. “So that’s why you asked me if you’d be liable for an ‘accident’ before you went down. You were planning to kill him all along!” His chest heaved, and the bodyguards flanking him glared at me as if I were a bug to be crushed. My eyes scanned the crowd and landed on Alex, my partner, my friend, the man who had been right there with me. He avoided my gaze, his face a picture of guilt. “Leo,” he mumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Adam was lucky to get out of there alive. If something had gone wrong… it would’ve been catastrophic. What you did… it was too much. If I hadn’t been there to stop you, you might have actually killed him.” In that single, gut-wrenching moment, I understood. It was a setup. Adam had orchestrated the whole thing, and he’d dragged the one person I trusted into his scheme. I had saved his life, and in return, he was methodically destroying mine. What could I say? There were only three of us in that underwater tomb. Two of them were pointing the finger at me. With the Vance family’s power to bend the truth and manipulate the media, I didn’t stand a chance. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “My conscience is clear,” I said, my voice hollow. “I will cooperate with any investigation.” Mr. Vance’s eyes bulged. “Clear conscience? I paid you a fortune, and you tried to murder my son! How does someone like you even deserve to be called a diver?” he roared. “Your own teammate follows you into hell, and you’d probably slit his throat to steal the credit! I’ll see to it that your license is permanently revoked. You will never compete again. You will never touch the water again!” The police arrived shortly after. I was led away in handcuffs. The interview clips went viral, and the court of public opinion delivered its verdict. I was a monster. “I remember him,” one comment read. “Didn’t he take a student on a dive once, and the kid ended up in a vegetative state?” “They said he saved the kid’s life,” another replied. “But maybe he saw a rival with more talent and decided to ‘retire’ him early.” “This is terrifying. My daughter took a beginner’s class with him last year. Thank God nothing happened.” The incident they were talking about was real. But the student had ignored safety protocols and gone on a solo dive with a faulty oxygen tank. I found him just in time; without me, he wouldn’t have just been in a coma, he’d be dead. But context didn’t matter anymore. I saw the ugly truth with perfect clarity. When the public loves you, you’re a hero. When they turn on you, you’re less than nothing. My coaching team came to visit me at the station. Seeing my head coach felt like finding an anchor in a hurricane. I told him everything, detail for detail. He sighed, a look of weary resignation on his face. “You know how it is, Leo. Tall poppy syndrome. The competitors you were up against in the internationals… they’re the best in the world. Taking you out of the picture raises their odds of winning.” He leaned in, his voice low. “And let’s be blunt. That Vance kid is a notorious brat. He tried to hire one of our coaches as a private instructor a while back. He was so impossible to deal with, he went through three of them before we told his father we couldn’t work with him. This dive… it was all about ego. He couldn’t handle the embarrassment of getting stuck, so he needed a scapegoat. You were it.” The police had already grilled me once. Without hard evidence from the cavern, their hands were tied, and their stance was neutral. Hearing my coach’s words, a cold sweat broke out on my skin. 5 I had clung to the hope that the police investigation would clear my name. But if Adam Vance was pulling strings behind the scenes, my life was over. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Vance,” my coach said, trying to sound reassuring. “Try to smooth things over, apologize on your behalf. Let them cool down. At the end of the day, his son is alive and well. If you show some remorse, maybe they’ll go easy on you.” At this point, I had no better options. Survival was more important than the truth. I hired a lawyer and formally requested a meeting to apologize to the Vance family. Mr. Vance refused to see me. Adam, more arrogant than ever, publicly declared that he would make sure I paid for what I’d done. A video of me, stone-faced, apologizing for “my actions” in knocking him unconscious, was leaked to the press. That’s when the internet truly exploded. My apology was seen as a confession. The small contingent of supporters who believed there was more to the story were drowned out by a tidal wave of manufactured outrage. The Vances had clearly hired an army of bots and trolls to control the narrative. Anonymous accounts flooded comment sections, complaining about how expensive my classes were, how hard they were to book. They painted me as an arrogant snob who did nothing but brag about his own achievements. Any comments defending me were buried. Countless people who knew nothing about the situation called me a disgrace, gloating that I had finally picked a fight with someone I couldn’t beat. Other divers, eager to promote their own careers, joined the pile-on, accusing me of cheating in past competitions. The lies grew more outrageous. I was a phantom menace who had a legion of ghosts haunting my career. My attempts to clarify were ignored. People only believed what they wanted to believe. When my colleagues spoke up for me, they were dismissed as co-conspirators. Every major news outlet and gossip blog jumped on the bandwagon, fanning the flames. With no concrete evidence to prove my innocence, I was utterly defenseless. Adam kept the pressure on the police, demanding my arrest. He poured money into a media campaign designed to utterly annihilate my reputation. The scandal burned like a wildfire, scorching everyone close to me—my coach, my colleagues, my family. Seeing my parents, who had always been so proud of me, endure daily harassment was more than I could bear. Finally, I broke. I returned the five million dollars and issued a public statement announcing my permanent retirement from professional diving. 6 My surrender only confirmed my guilt in the public’s eye. The police, unable to find any concrete evidence of attempted murder, eventually had to release me. But the damage was done. My professional diving license was officially and permanently revoked. The day I walked out of the detention center, the Vances were waiting for me, a pack of reporters in tow. Adam, fully recovered, smirked at me, his contempt practically dripping from him. “You should’ve learned your lesson,” he sneered. “Don’t mess with people you can’t afford to offend. A pathetic diver like you… who gave you the right to touch me?” He clapped me on the shoulder, his smile sickeningly cheerful. “It’s a shame you can’t dive anymore. But don’t worry, I’ll be the one to break your record. I’ll be bigger than you ever were. I’ll bring glory to this country. Consider it a favor. You owe me that much.” I wanted to smash my fist into his smug, entitled face. Just weeks ago, he was a terrified child in the dark, begging me to save him. Now, he stood before the cameras, the architect of my ruin. But I was surrounded. I couldn’t say a word. Mr. Vance, his eyes sharp and calculating, looked me up and down like a bug under a microscope. “You’re lucky my son made a full recovery,” he said, his tone that of a condescending elder. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be walking out of here so easily. Try to be a better person from now on. A moment of glory means nothing. A man needs to be grounded to go far in life.” Rage boiled in my gut. This was the same man who had wept on the phone, begging me to save his son. The same man who had called me “Master Leo” and offered me a fortune to be Adam’s personal coach. But the truth didn’t matter to him. Only his son’s ego did. The reporters shoved their microphones forward again. I said nothing. I just pushed my way through the crowd and walked away. Let this ugly chapter be over, I thought. But Adam wasn’t done with me. Online, he began dissecting my diving technique from old videos, pointing out supposed flaws. “It’s hard to imagine how someone this sloppy could have ever broken a world record,” he posted. Suddenly, self-proclaimed “former students” crawled out of the woodwork, claiming I had taught them incorrect, dangerous techniques. Former partners accused me of stealing their credit. Someone even started a rumor that I always made my teammates scout dangerous passages ahead of me, completely indifferent to their safety. The mob demanded that all my records and accolades be officially stripped, to prevent me from ever “harming” anyone in the diving world again. I found Alex. He was Adam Vance’s new private coach. He just shrugged, telling me to let it go. “You know my family’s situation, Leo,” he said, not even meeting my eye. “I needed the money.” So that was it. Even those who knew the truth wouldn’t speak it. Faced with the overwhelming tide of public opinion, my only option was to disappear. I took my savings and moved to a small, quiet city on the coast. I started a new, anonymous social media account, posting videos where I explained diving theory and techniques without ever showing my face. Slowly, I built a following. The ad revenue was enough to live on. It was a quiet, unassuming life. Until, one year later, my phone rang. It was Mr. Vance. Adam Vance was trapped in that cave. Again.

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My boss’s company went bankrupt. He took me out for one last meal. He clapped me on the shoulder, his voice thick with booze and irony. “Zoe, my girl,” he slurred, “if I end up starving on the street, I’m counting on you to feed me…” The joke hit me like a bucket of ice water. A shiver ran down my spine. He knows, I thought, my blood running cold. He knows I’m the richest man in Port City’s daughter. 1 His girlfriend had cleaned out the company accounts and run off with another man, leaving him with a mountain of debt. He had to sell everything just to break even. He even pawned his watch to make sure I got my final paycheck. “So… what are you going to do now, boss?” I asked, trying to sound casual. A cloud of despair settled over his face. “What else can I do? Crawl back to my hometown with my tail between my legs.” That couldn’t happen. Absolutely not. If he left, where would I ever find another boss who’d let me slack off and play video games at my desk without docking my pay? I had to make him stay. He was already several drinks in, shouting “To hell with love!” at the ceiling. He was definitely wasted. Suddenly, he turned, his eyes locking onto mine with a startling intensity. I flinched. “What? What is it?” He sighed, a long, mournful sound. “If only your dad was a billionaire.” Was this a hint? Was he testing me? “If my dad were a billionaire,” I said, forcing a laugh, “I’d definitely invest in your company. Ha ha.” He slammed his fist on the marble tabletop, his voice filled with righteous fury. “Invest? Screw investing! If you were a billionaire’s daughter, you’d make those two backstabbing traitors pay for what they did!” He grumbled, “Stealing my money… damn it, it makes me so mad.” Make them pay. Got it. Since he clearly knew who I was, I nodded eagerly. “Okay.” This was easy. “What kind of price did you have in mind?” He was on a roll now, ranting about his ex-girlfriend between swigs of whiskey. He said he wanted to see them exiled to some desolate mine in the middle of nowhere. Hmmm. Okay. Done. “And they took my house,” he wailed. “If your dad was a billionaire, he’d at least have to set me up with a mansion, right?” Consider it done. “And the investment…” he continued, slurring his words. “It would have to be… hic… at least fifty million!” A little on the low side, but if that’s all he wanted, fine. “And for you…” He hiccupped, trying to focus on me. “What… what do you want?” I blinked. “There’s something in it for me?” “Of course!” He waved his hand magnanimously. “From now on, you work three days a week, and you get a four-day weekend!” My eyes lit up. A four-day weekend? Okay, Operation: Save My Boss was officially a top priority. Every second I wasted, the chances of him actually leaving town increased. After downing two more cases of beer, he was practically unconscious. I grabbed his arm. “Where do you live? I’ll get you home.” “Home…?” he sobbed. “I don’t have a home anymore.” Right. I sighed. First rule of the new company: no more drinking. I hoisted him up, grunting with the effort. It looked like he was coming home with me. The things I do for a good slacking-off job. Some people want to revolutionize the workplace. I just want to save it. 2 That night, my boss christened my custom-designed Italian leather sofa with a torrent of vomit. I stared at the mess, my heart aching. The last time I’d had to replace this sofa was when I accidentally dropped a watermelon on it. After getting him settled on the now-defiled couch, I dialed my dad’s number. “Sweetheart?” He picked up on the first ring. I glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night. “Dad, you’re up late again,” I scolded. “I’ve told you a million times, work can wait until morning.” I’d called this late on purpose, just to check on him. Sure enough, he was pulling another all-nighter. He chuckled on the other end. “Alright, alright, you got me. But what has my little princess calling at this hour?” I explained the situation with my boss. When I finished, my dad just sighed. “Alright,” he said. “Tell him to check the news tomorrow morning.” After we hung up, I could hear my boss snoring from the living room. Well, time for bed. I went to my room and was asleep within minutes. I dreamt I found a magic lamp. A genie appeared. “You have freed me,” it boomed. “You may have three wishes.” I blinked, thought for a second, and nodded. “Okay. You can make them.” The genie stared at me. “…What?” Then I woke up. I was still pondering why the genie wouldn’t make a wish when someone knocked on my door. I opened it to find my boss standing there, his face grim. “Something huge just happened.” I followed him into the living room, completely bewildered. He turned on the TV to the morning news. 【In a bizarre turn of events, the two fugitives who embezzled millions from a local tech firm have reportedly been sold into forced labor at a mine in a remote, war-torn country. They are now desperately appealing to the U.S. government for aid…】 Wow, my dad works fast. My boss stared at the screen, then pulled out his phone. His eyes widened. All the stolen money had been returned to his account. “Holy crap, Zoe,” he said, turning to me. He suddenly pulled me into a tight hug, startling me so much I froze. “You’re my good luck charm!” he exclaimed. “I made a wish with you last night, and it came true this morning! You’re better than a magic lamp.” Hmm, maybe not a good luck charm, I thought. Maybe just really, really rich. I’d never seen him this happy before. I felt a little embarrassed. “Bankrupt? Bankrupt my ass! I’m making a comeback!” he declared, full of renewed vigor. “And from now on, you, my little good luck charm, are the official company mascot!” I beamed. “Do mascots get to slack off?” “Slack off? Hell, you can do more than that!” He grinned, patting his toned abs. “You can touch these anytime you want.” Oh. No, that’s quite alright. 3 My Boss’s Wish List: 1. Make the backstabbing traitors pay. 2. A mansion. 3. A fifty-million-dollar investment. He had his thirty million back, but this was New York City. Thirty million, especially company funds, wasn’t going to buy him a mansion. Luckily, my family’s real estate company had just finished a new luxury development. I’d just set aside the best villa for him. I called my dad and told him to have someone deliver the deed. He was baffled. “Honey, are you out of your mind? Why are you going to all this trouble for the owner of some tiny startup?” “You don’t get it,” I said righteously. “The feeling of getting paid to do nothing… it’s pure bliss!” “But why can’t you just relax at home?” my dad asked, ever the boomer. “Why do you even need a job?” “Hah,” I scoffed. “Do you know how boring it is to sit at home all day? But at work, it’s different. It’s the thrill of sneaking in moments of leisure. Even just playing a little online farming game feels like a victory.” “Then why not slack off at our company?” “No way. Then I’d be wasting my own family’s money.” “…” A few minutes after we hung up, my dad texted to say the lawyer was on his way with the transfer contract. Excellent. I leaned back on my newly delivered leather sofa and took a satisfying bite of watermelon. While the cat’s away, the mice will play. While the employees slack, the boss’s BMW becomes a bike. I was living the dream. My blissful reverie was interrupted by a video message from the lawyer. I opened it. The lawyer, dressed in a sharp suit, stood in front of my boss’s temporary apartment, holding a briefcase. He knocked. A moment later, my boss opened the door, looking groggy. “Who is it?” “Good morning,” the lawyer said, adjusting his glasses. “Are you the owner of Phoenix Corp?” “Nope, wrong address,” my boss mumbled. “Name’s Ethan Cole.” “Ah, yes, Mr. Cole,” the lawyer said, unfazed. “I have here the deed to Villa Number One at the Summit Estates, a gift from our Miss… from your benefactor. If you would please just sign here.” My boss took a step back. “You have the wrong guy. I’m the owner of Phoenix Corp.” And with that, he slammed the door in the lawyer’s face. A moment later, I could hear his muffled laughter through the door. “Hah! Nice try, scammers! I’ve got the National Anti-Fraud app on my phone!” The video ended. Below it was a pathetic message from the lawyer: 【Miss, I really tried. He almost called the cops on me.】 I… I didn’t know what to say. I guess on the bright side, my boss’s scam awareness had significantly improved. That’s progress, right? As I was pondering this, my phone rang. It was him. “Hahaha! Zoe, you won’t believe this! Some guy just came to my door trying to scam me, said he was giving me a mansion!” he crowed. “As if I’d fall for that! Who does he think I am?” “Right?” I said, trying to sound supportive. “Yeah… ” I hesitated. “…but what if it really was a mansion from me?” “No way,” he scoffed. “Are you secretly a billionaire’s daughter or something? You make three grand a month and you’ve never quit. You need the money more than anyone I know.” And just like that, you lost your mansion. “Anyway, get ready,” he said, the sound of keys jingling in the background. “I’m coming to pick you up for dinner. I finally got my baby back from the impound lot. We’re going to that seafood buffet you’ve been dying to try.” Dying to try? It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. Oh, he meant the restaurant my family owns. The one that costs eighteen hundred dollars a person. I’d booked our last team-building event there, thinking I was keeping the money in the family, and got an earful for it. I guess with over three hundred employees, it was a little over budget. He’d been convinced ever since that I was obsessed with the place. Well, a free meal is a free meal. And it gave me an idea of how to finally give him the mansion. I got ready, and ten minutes later, a car horn honked twice. I looked out the window. There he was, leaning against a McLaren, dressed in a flashy red jacket and sunglasses, looking like a total rockstar. That McLaren used to be mine. He’d always admired it, so I invented a reason to sell it to him for cheap. What can I say? He lets me slack off. He deserves it. 4 “Good evening, welcome.” A hostess greeted us as soon as we stepped out of the car. Her eyes widened in recognition when she saw me. “Miss…” “Ahem!” I coughed loudly. The hostess quickly corrected herself. “…Miss…ed you guys! So glad you could make it on this busy weekend.” My boss looked confused. “Missed who?” “Uh… the… weekend,” she stammered. “It’s… a big weekend. For us.” He nodded, seemingly satisfied. I led the way to our table—Table 99, just as I’d arranged. I sat down and looked at him, my eyes shining. Sit down, sit down! Your mansion awaits! He looked at the table, then back at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Ahem. Zoe.” “What is it?” “You know I just went through a breakup,” he said, his expression complicated. “I’m not really ready to jump into a new relationship right now…” “…?” I stared at him. “And?” I followed his gaze to the table setting… and oh, for the love of God. Who arranged this? I’m firing them. It was a table for two, complete with a single red rose and heart-shaped place cards. A “Lover’s Nook.” No wonder he looked so conflicted. “I didn’t notice,” I said quickly. “It’s just… a nice view. And 99 is my lucky number.” He looked relieved. “Oh. Good.” For some reason, I felt a little annoyed. A few minutes later, the hostess from the entrance came over to our table, her face a mask of exaggerated shock. “Oh my gosh! You’re at Table 99!” My boss looked at her. “Yeah? So what?” “Well, 99 is our lucky number!” she gushed. “You’ve just won our grand prize! A mansion in the Summit Estates!” I could feel a vein throbbing in my forehead. This was the worst acting I had ever seen. She might as well have had “THIS IS FAKE” tattooed on her forehead. Could she be any more over the top? And she couldn’t even come up with a different line than the one I’d just used? My boss’s eyes widened. “Really?” The hostess nodded vigorously, placing the contract on the table and handing him a pen. “Sign here!” Even an idiot wouldn’t fall for this. My boss grabbed the pen and scribbled his name, as if he was afraid she’d change her mind. Then he handed it to me. I… I sighed. I had clearly overestimated his intelligence. I signed my name without hesitation. If I didn’t, the whole charade would fall apart. The hostess, her mission accomplished, beamed and walked away, giving me a conspiratorial wink as she left. Great. Whoever hired her needs an eye exam. I’ll pay for it. I sighed again and turned back to my boss, only to find him staring at me with a strange, intense expression. Oh, no. I’d gotten carried away. Had he finally figured it out? A knot of anxiety formed in my stomach. After a long moment, his eyes welled up with tears. “Zoe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “you really are my good luck charm!” “First the money comes back, now we win a mansion! At this point, I wouldn’t even be surprised if someone offered me a fifty-million-dollar investment tomorrow.” “Don’t worry,” he added, “this mansion is half yours. You’re moving in with me.” He paused, his expression turning serious again. “But you have to keep your distance. I’m really not looking for a relationship right now…” Oh, for crying out loud. How did this man ever manage to run a company?

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My crush of so many years was forced to marry me. Each time we made love, he’d fall silent and retreat to his study, refusing to come back to the bedroom. I didn’t want us to become one of those bitter, estranged couples, trapped in a loveless marriage. So tonight, after he left the bed, I picked up the divorce papers and went to find him. But as I reached for the doorknob, text began to materialize in the air before my eyes. 【LMAO, the ML still thinks he’s just a substitute who got lucky. He’s terrified our girl is going to dump him any second. The poor guy’s a nervous wreck! Hahaha…】 【Don’t you dare divorce him, sweetie! He’s hopelessly in love! He literally can’t live without you!】 【Who would’ve thought this six-foot-three giant is hiding in his study crying his eyes out just because he didn’t get any aftercare? LMAO!】 【If she opens that door right now, she’ll find him clutching a plushie that smells like her, trying to wipe away his tears.】 That last comment made me pause. Skeptical, but intrigued, I twisted the knob and pushed the door open. 1 The study was plunged into darkness. I didn’t hesitate; I flicked on the light. The sight of Ethan made me freeze. The tip of his nose was red, his eyes were glistening, and a single tear clung to his thick lashes. Was this the same composed, rational Ethan I knew? All this time, I thought he was holing up in his study because he was disgusted by being intimate with me. He clearly hadn’t expected me to barge in. Panic flashed across his face before he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. “Why are you still up?” His tone was sharp, laced with an impatience that suggested my presence was an unwelcome intrusion. If it weren’t for the tear track still glistening on his cheek, I might have actually believed he was angry. 【Don’t get it wrong, sweetie! He’s just worried that staying up late is bad for you.】 【Oh no, here he goes again, overthinking himself into a hole. He probably thinks his performance was so bad it didn’t even tire her out enough to sleep. (¬‿¬)】 The comments started flooding in, getting racier by the second. The explicit words made my face burn. I ignored his question and asked one of my own. “What are you holding?” From the moment I’d walked in, he’d kept his hands behind his back, hiding something. I needed to see if the comments were telling the truth. “It’s… it’s nothing.” His eyelashes fluttered. He couldn’t look me in the eye. I have a bit of a weakness for stuffed animals; my bed is practically overflowing with them. If he’d taken one, I honestly wouldn’t have noticed. He didn’t move, so I took a step forward to see for myself. To my shock, he flinched back, scrambling away from me as if I were a thief. There was no way I could see what he was hiding now. I held out my hand, my gaze locking with his. My voice was calm but firm. “Show me.” Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He ducked his head, refusing to meet my eyes, and hesitantly placed the object in my hand. It was one of my plushies. The comments were right. 2 My eyes went wide. For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. Before I could even process it, a new wave of comments caught my attention. 【This man-child is always crying. Sweetie just has to raise her voice a tiny bit and the waterworks start. So useless!】 【Hey, don’t be so hard on him. How tough can a guy who needs aftercare really be? Hahaha…】 I instinctively glanced back at Ethan. His head was bowed so low his chin was practically touching his chest. In the suffocating silence of the room, a tiny, choked sob was painfully audible. He was trying so hard to stifle his anguish, but his shoulders still trembled uncontrollably. Wait, I was just talking to him normally. I hadn’t even gotten mad about him taking my plushie. But his reaction, the way he was trying to cry without making a sound, made it seem like I’d just broken his heart. The comments said he thought I was yelling at him. Suddenly, I felt like the villain. Flustered, I softened my voice. “Please don’t cry. I wasn’t yelling at you.” At my words, his body went rigid. He spun around and fled into the adjoining bathroom, his voice a choked whisper as he went. “I’m not crying! You’re seeing things!” I stared at the closed door, the information from the comments swirling in my mind. So, Ethan had it all wrong. My ex-boyfriend was the substitute. Ethan was the one I’d wanted all along. 3 Back in college, I had a very brief, very ill-advised relationship. It was only because the guy looked a little like Ethan. It was a stupid, impulsive decision, and I realized quickly that using someone as a stand-in was a horrible thing to do. I broke it off. He moved abroad shortly after, and I pushed the whole ugly affair out of my mind. If it weren’t for the comments, I would have completely forgotten that ex-boyfriend even existed. Click. The bathroom door finally opened. Ethan had been in there for almost ten minutes. Now, aside from slightly reddened eyes and dampness in his bangs, he looked composed again. “Did you need something?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral. His question snapped me back to the reason I’d come to the study in the first place. 【Hahaha, if she says yes, he’s going to start crying all over again.】 【If he cried that hard just from her raising her voice, he’s going to have a full-blown meltdown when he finds out she’s about to ask for a divorce.】 A jolt of guilt went through me. I discreetly tucked the divorce papers behind my back. I had assumed Ethan was miserable because our families had railroaded him into this marriage. But the comments painted a different picture: ever since our wedding, he’d been living in a constant state of fear, terrified that I would abandon him. He wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. It wasn’t unhappiness making him look so worn down; it was a nervous breakdown. And I’d misunderstood it all as resentment towards me. The guilt intensified. “I can’t sleep when you’re not there,” I said softly. A flicker of pure joy lit up his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. But just as quickly, some dark thought extinguished the light, and his expression fell. I cut through his spiraling thoughts, emphasizing each word. “Ethan. I can only sleep when you’re beside me.” 4 Perhaps it was the release of a good cry, or perhaps my words finally gave him a sense of security. Whatever the reason, Ethan slept more soundly that night than I’d ever seen him. He was so deeply asleep that he didn’t even stir when I gently traced the lines of his face, lost in thought. The comments said this was the first peaceful night’s sleep he’d had since we got married. Looking at his sleeping form, my heart felt heavy with a mix of emotions. I’d been in love with Ethan since my freshman year of high school. He was a campus legend—handsome, brilliant, a model student who was always kind to stray animals. Plenty of girls had crushes on him. I wasn’t a shy person by nature; in fact, I thrived on the debate team, always ready for an argument. But around him, I became a different person—cautious, tongue-tied, my courage always failing me. I even chose a university up north just to be near him. But even on the same campus, I never dared to make a move, terrified that one wrong word would mean losing the chance to even speak to him at all. Then, a few months ago, a twist of fate. Our mothers met, hit it off instantly, and decided they were destined to be family. They couldn’t be sisters, but they could be in-laws. And so, they set us up. I was shocked that someone like Ethan was still single, being pressured by his family to go on blind dates. When we met for dinner, he didn’t even seem to remember my name. He kept his head down the whole time, barely saying a word. But I knew this might be my only chance. Summoning all my courage, I carried the conversation, desperately searching for topics. Finally, I feigned a casual tone and said, “You know, we seem pretty compatible in a lot of ways. Maybe we should… give it a try?” The moment the words left my mouth, his brow furrowed, his expression turning grave. He looked utterly opposed to the idea. My heart sank. I braced myself for rejection. But then, Ethan looked up, and in a soft voice, he said, “Okay.” After the wedding, though, he was a different person. He was withdrawn and sullen during the day, and at night, he would disappear into his study after we were intimate. It screamed dissatisfaction. You can’t blame me for misinterpreting it. I had to fix this. We needed to have a real conversation, and soon. 5 When I woke up the next morning, Ethan had already made breakfast, finished his own plate, and was at the door putting on his shoes to leave for work. His schedule started earlier than mine. Normally, I would just walk out of the bedroom and sit down at the table, and we would eat in silence. But today, I broke the routine. I walked straight to the entryway. Ethan’s hand froze on the doorknob. He looked up, flustered and confused. “Is the breakfast not to your liking? I can run down and buy something else.” I quickly reached out and took his arm. “No, that’s not it.” 【Is she going to ask for a divorce now?? Please no!】 【Sweetie, you’re making a huge mistake! A guy who’s a king in the boardroom and a chef in the kitchen is a rare find!】 I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling a little shy. “It’s just… usually, before a husband leaves for work, he gives his wife a goodbye kiss.” Hearing this, Ethan became even more flustered than I was. His gaze darted away as he stammered, “Oh. Oh, right. Okay. S-so, I’m just gonna…?” “Mhm.” The word was barely out of my mouth before I felt a slight whoosh of air, followed by a feather-light touch on my forehead. It was over in a second. “I’m heading to work,” he said, his words rushed as he turned back to the door. “Wait.” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. My earlier shyness had vanished, replaced by a playful urge to tease him. I looked him straight in the eye, watching his reaction. “Not so fast. The wife hasn’t given the husband his goodbye kiss yet.” And with that, I stood on my toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Ethan’s entire face, neck, and even the tips of his ears flushed a deep crimson. As he finally stumbled out the door, he was so flustered he was practically tripping over his own feet. 【Starting the day with sugar! I’m gonna get a cavity!】 【Our girl knows exactly what she’s doing! YES!】 【LMAO, he’s leaning against the door outside, catching his breath! That’s kinda hot!】 6 Love really does turn you into an idiot. I spent the entire day in a daze, and at least three different colleagues asked me what I was smiling about. I kept seeing the word “aftercare” pop up in the comments. That was the reason he was hiding in his study, crying. I couldn’t let that happen again. A quick search online confirmed it. People who need aftercare often struggle with insecurity. The intimacy can trigger anxiety, making them fear they didn’t perform well enough and leaving them desperate for reassurance. I blushed as I summarized my findings into one simple strategy: praise him. We were intimate almost every night, except when I had my period. So I spent the rest of the day in a state of nervous anticipation, mentally rehearsing a script of compliments. 【And… we’re blacked out again!】 【Why does it always go dark at the good parts?! (sobbing)】 The comments were a chorus of complaints. Thank god they couldn’t see me right now, or I’d die of embarrassment. When we were finished, Ethan buried his face in the crook of my neck, lingering there for a long moment. Tentatively, I ran my fingers through his hair, then gently rubbed his earlobe. “You were… really good tonight.” It was my first time comforting someone like this, and I had no idea what I was doing. My voice was uncertain. But I felt his body tense, his breath catching in his chest. A strange sense of satisfaction washed over me. “I love it when you hold me,” I murmured. “It makes me feel so safe. Can you hold me tighter?” He didn’t answer, but his arms tightened around me. “I want to see you now, okay?” He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were shining, bright and adoring, like a puppy seeing its owner after a long time away. Practice makes perfect. My shyness completely evaporated. I leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, and whispered with a smile, “I love you so much.” His eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly buried his head against me again, too embarrassed to look at me. After a long moment, a muffled voice vibrated against my ear. “Me too.” 7 【What’s going on? Why was it blacked out all night? We didn’t even get the study scene!】 【I know why! It’s because he didn’t go to the study to cry! Our girl must have… (smirks)】 【No wonder he’s acting so weird today. He keeps sneaking glances at her and smiling to himself.】 【A well-cared-for man is a different breed. He’s practically a delicate flower.】 A delicate flower? Looking at him now, it kind of fit. His cheeks were flushed, and he was bustling around the house in a pink apron. It was the weekend, and for the past two days, I had transformed into a praise-spewing machine. “Everything you cook is amazing! A five-star restaurant should be trying to hire you!” “You mop the floor better than a robot! The robots are going to be out of a job at this rate!” “The clothes you wash by hand smell even better than when they come out of the machine…” I was starting to run out of material, but Ethan was just getting more and more energized. He polished a single water glass eight times, then casually placed it in my line of sight, waiting. Just waiting for my praise. I was finally starting to understand why all the teachers and parents adored him. On Monday morning, when I got up, Ethan was already dressed and ready for work, looking at me with an expectant expression. I pretended not to notice. I said my goodbyes and waited for him to leave. Over the weekend, I’d noticed something about Ethan: he was incredibly good at taking care of others, but terrible at expressing his own needs. He bottled everything up. He wanted praise, but he’d wait for me to offer it. If I didn’t, he’d just quietly walk away and be sad by himself. Sure enough, when the goodbye kiss he was hoping for didn’t come, his whole posture slumped. But he still wouldn’t ask for it. “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” I asked, my voice gentle, trying to coax it out of him. He just shook his head, forcing a weak smile. “Goodbye.” I sighed softly. I had no doubt that the second that door closed, tears would start streaming down his face. The image of him trying to wipe his eyes on the way to work made my heart melt. I grabbed his arm just as he was stepping out the door. Just as I’d suspected. He wasn’t even gone yet, and his eyes were already glistening with unshed tears. I looked directly into his watery eyes and asked, “Do you want a kiss? If you don’t say anything, I’ll assume you don’t.” As I made a show of letting go, he quickly grabbed my hand back, his head bobbing in a series of frantic nods. “Yes!” 8 With my deliberate encouragement, Ethan slowly started asking for things he wanted. Our relationship grew closer and closer. Until one afternoon, I was walking across campus with a thick stack of files when I stumbled, sending papers scattering across the pavement. A hand reached down to help me gather them, then took the rest of the stack from my arms. I was about to thank the person when I looked up and saw a familiar face. My whole body went stiff. Standing in front of me was my ex-boyfriend, Trent, who had been abroad for years. “Long time no see,” he said with a smirk. “I heard you got married.” He paused, his eyes raking over me. “I also heard… the guy looks a lot like me.” He had changed. The Trent in front of me was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, every trace of his student days gone. But that innate swagger, that hint of a troublemaker, was still there. He had a fresh buzz cut that was just starting to grow out, and he still wore the same silver stud in his left ear. The suit on that face just looked… wrong. So out of place, I thought, rolling my eyes internally. I’d met Trent at a debate tournament; we were good at arguing, even with each other. Our breakup had been messy. Yes, I had dumped him for no apparent reason after less than two weeks, but he had his faults too. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention that he’d skipped a grade and was a full two years younger than me. I nearly had an aneurysm when I found out. Aside from a five-out-of-ten resemblance in their brow and eyes, he and Ethan were polar opposites. Ethan was the model student every teacher loved; Trent was the headache they all dreaded. What was I even thinking back then? 【Whoa! Nobody told me the second male lead was this hot!】 【Our ML is a feast for the eyes, but the SML isn’t half bad either.】 【Team SML! Pick Trent! Pick Trent!】 The comments flipped their allegiance so fast it gave me whiplash. This morning they were begging me to kiss Ethan more, and now they’d completely jumped ship. I snatched my files back, glaring at Trent. “Who have you been listening to?” He chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking down at me with an I-knew-it expression. “I told you back then, I never go back on my word, especially not for a woman as fickle and self-centered as you—” “Yeah, yeah, I get it, Your Majesty. Stop.” I cut him off, not in the mood for his drama. I plastered on a fake smile, gave him a massive eye-roll, and turned to leave. For some reason, despite my attitude, he didn’t get angry. He fell into step beside me, continuing his monologue. “But I never imagined you’d be so obsessed with me that you’d marry my look-alike. Look, I’m a reasonable guy, more patient than you are. A substitute is just a substitute. Now that I’m back, you can— Hey, why’d you stop walking?” I’d been trying to let his words go in one ear and out the other, but he was getting more and more ridiculous. I was about to tell him not to flatter himself when a single comment froze me in place. 【The ML is here.】 9 I didn’t have time to argue with Trent. This was the absolute worst time for Ethan to see him. After getting my doctorate, I’d stayed on as a faculty member. I had already called Ethan and asked him to pick me up so we could go shopping for groceries. I knew the university was hosting an alumni symposium today, and Trent must have been an invited speaker. The campus is huge. I never thought my luck would be this bad. “You remember where the faculty offices in Building C are, right? Fourth floor,” I asked, trying to sound casual. Trent opened his mouth to say something, but I was out of patience. I shoved the entire stack of files into his arms. “If you don’t remember, ask someone. Take these there for me. I have to go. Goodbye forever.” I fired off the words and immediately started speed-walking towards the main gate. But as I rounded the first corner, I came face-to-face with Ethan. My heart hammered against my ribs. Panicked, I grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the exit. 【This is so intense.】 【Aw, that’s it? I was hoping for a showdown.】 The comments clearly didn’t care about my survival. I hadn’t found the right time to tell Ethan about my past, and if Trent found out he was the substitute, he would throw a fit of epic proportions. I didn’t have the energy for that. Thank god I’d moved fast. They had missed each other by seconds.

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Dubbed the “Queen of Cutesy,” I’m blessed with a bombshell figure but cursed with a syrup-sweet voice that sparks hate with every word. After a year as the internet’s punching bag, I finally broke on a live show when accused of being shameless. Grabbing the A-list actor beside me, I sobbed, “I told you I wasn’t faking it!” The sharp-tongued actor froze, his neck flushing crimson as he awkwardly patted my head. The web fell silent, then erupted: 【Wait, she’s for real?】 【Why is he blushing?!】 【LMAO, the cynic’s spine melted from her voice!】 01 I’ve had this voice since I was a kid. I also hit puberty way too early. Because of it, my father acted like he wanted to strangle me in my sleep, and my mother said I was born to be nothing but trouble for men. Later, a talent scout spotted me, drawn in by my looks, and I was signed to an entertainment agency. When I debuted, my agent, Liz, was practically vibrating with confidence. “With this body? This face? We just need to strike a pose and we’ll be trending in seconds!” she’d declared, slapping her chest for emphasis. She cackled, convinced I was destined to be a superstar. But everyone, including her, had fatally underestimated the destructive power of my voice. A full year later, my reputation was in the gutter. It got to the point where I couldn’t even open my mouth without people rolling their eyes. 【Skylar Song is the fakest of the fake! If she’d just own the femme fatale look, I’d at least give her a second glance. Why is she so obsessed with this sweet-girl persona?】 【NGL, I thought it was cute at first, but it gets really annoying when it’s non-stop.】 【Can she just shut up? If she wants to seduce men so bad, she can go work at a club. Stop polluting the internet!】 The comments were relentless, one nastier than the next. But I was a coward. All I could do was bite down on my blanket at night, forcing the tears back down. Liz tried to console me. “Hey, bad press is still press! Listen to me, kid. That contrast you’ve got? The body and the voice? If you just lean into it, you’re gonna be rich. You hear me? Rich!” A sob escaped me. “You mean the kind of rich where I get revenge-rich?” Liz was a fiery New Yorker with a notoriously short fuse. After a year of managing me, she claimed she’d developed enough patience to get a kindergarten teaching license. My voice, as she put it, made women scream and men… well, it did things to men. The problem was, the contrast was so stark that nobody believed it was real. The damn internet trolls even had the audacity to say she had bad taste, forcing a perfectly good femme fatale into a cutesy mold. Who was going to stand up for her?! Liz seethed. “I pulled every string I had, called in every favor to get you a spot on this huge reality show. This time, I swear, I’m taking back what’s mine!” She was convinced that once people saw me up close, I’d win them all over, men and women alike. She let out a low, scheming chuckle, lost in her own fantasy world. 02 But before the show even started, I was trending for all the wrong reasons. #A-List Actor Liam Vance Slams Skylar Song’s Voice As Disgusting# #SkylarSongTheFaker# The topic was pinned to a video of Liam streaming his video game, a clip that had been reposted over a million times in half an hour. In the video, his teammate was dragging the whole team down. After feeding the enemy team several kills, the guy apologized in a strained, nasally voice. Liam just laughed, a cold, sharp sound, before tearing into him. “Whoa, what’d you do, swallow a handful of syrup? That’s some serious baby-voice you’re forcing.” “If you don’t know how to talk, then shut up. Don’t sit there whining. Your mouth is like a busted faucet, just spraying nonsense everywhere.” Liam Vance was a brilliant actor, the youngest to ever win the prestigious Phoenix Award, but his reputation was… complicated. His tongue was sharper than a razor blade, a master of backhanded compliments and outright insults that made his fans both love and hate him. Normally, this would have nothing to do with me. But then Tricia Stone, a popular starlet, dropped a comment under the video. 【His voice is so sweet! Just like Skylar from our cast.】 Her vague, innocent-sounding words twisted and turned as they spread, and suddenly, the internet’s full firepower was aimed directly at my social media accounts. 【I knew that fake-sweet voice sounded familiar. It’s the industry’s queen of cutesy, Skylar Song!】 【Who else could it be? She’s the only one that obnoxious. And she had the nerve to do it in front of Liam? Everyone knows he’s the most savage critic in the business.】 【Idk, it doesn’t really sound like her. Skylar’s voice is a little over the top, but it’s not that grating. Stop jumping on the bandwagon!】 【^^ Skylar’s PR team working overtime? If it’s not her, who is it? Tricia? No way. Tricia is famously as sweet as she sounds. You can’t even compare the two!】 The internet was a cesspool of hate. Trolls dug up every clip of me speaking, reposting them like exhibits in a criminal trial. I was just sitting at home, and suddenly I was public enemy number one. Liz was about to have an aneurysm. “That goddamn Tricia is the real faker! Don’t think I can’t tell just because she has an innocent little face!” she raged. “I bet that was her in the game, and she threw you under the bus because she was scared of getting caught!” Even though I’d been bullied for my voice my whole life, this was the first time I’d ever been dragged so publicly, trending for all the wrong reasons. I felt like I was dying. I just lay on my bed, a human-shaped lump of misery. Then, my phone buzzed. “Sky, get online! Your big bro is gonna carry you to victory, and we’re gonna metaphorically slap Liam Vance across the face!” 03 Ethan is one of the biggest names in the voice-acting world. We met back in college when we were both doing part-time voice-over work. He was furious on my behalf. “Damn it, Sky, your voice is amazing. Is Liam deaf or just an ass? What gives him the right to talk like that!” Tears of gratitude streamed down my face. I swore in that moment that I would be his loyal sidekick for life. Before I could even process it, Ethan had dragged me into a game and matched us with Liam. My fingers fumbled over the controls. I was, to put it mildly, terrible at the game. A flurry of frantic, useless movements resulted in a spectacular kill-death ratio of zero to five. Liam’s voice, tight with frustration, crackled through my headset. “Just uninstall the game. Go play Candy Crush or something. You’re so bad you’re single-handedly carrying the other team.” The live-stream chat exploded with laughter. 【Did Liam step in something nasty before he logged on tonight? His teammate luck is trash.】 【I bet it’s another girl. Is she about to start apologizing in a baby-voice too? LOL】 Ethan was losing his mind on the phone. “Say something back! What did I bring you here for? If you don’t fight back, you let them trash you for nothing tonight!” His words lit a fire under me. I fumbled to turn on my mic. But I’d only ever been on the receiving end of insults. After a few stutters, all I could manage was a weak, “So what?” Ethan almost coughed up a lung. “Okay, listen! Repeat after me, word for word!” I nodded like a bobblehead, stumbling through the lines he fed me. “Did I eat your rice? Why are you so obsessed with me?” “If you can’t stand me, feel free to die before I do!” “Was I talking to you? No? Then shut your mouth!” I was just getting into the rhythm of it when Ethan suddenly went silent. I froze. What was next? After a moment of stunned silence, it was Liam’s voice that came through, stammering. “I’m… sorry.” On the screen, the tips of his ears looked a little red. “Another round? Want to duo?” Aaaaaah! My toes curled in on themselves from secondhand embarrassment. My hand twitched, and I slammed the ‘exit game’ button. 04 I may have fled the scene, but I left a firestorm in my wake. 【OMG, so sweet! Who could resist a voice like that?!】 【Wait, she just insulted him and ran? Who taught her that move? Didn’t she see our boy Liam was totally stunned?!】 【I’m dying, what a complete 180! He was not acting like this thirty minutes ago. But to be fair, that girl’s voice is ridiculously cute.】 Even crazier, Liam posted an apology on his official account for his behavior. 【I was too harsh tonight. Don’t take it to heart…】 He had no idea it was me, so I dropped a casual reply. 【It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s only on the level of being randomly blamed for something I didn’t do.】 I’d already gotten my revenge, so what did it matter? Maybe because I was still a nobody, I had no idea what kind of influence an A-list actor really had. My one careless reply nearly got my entire family tree cursed by his fans. My notifications and DMs exploded. 【You? Skylar Song, you have the nerve to piggyback on his fame?】 【Do you have any idea how much everyone hates your voice? The audacity to say that wasn’t you.】 【It’s pretty easy to tell the difference between a naturally sweet voice and a fake one, okay?】 The hateful comments kept pouring in. But among them, I noticed a brand-new account, a level-zero user, fighting back on my behalf. 【Her voice is sweet! What’s it to you?】 【So what if it was her? I like it!】 【You call her a faker? What does that make you? A-grade loser?】 【Damn it, if my main account wasn’t banned, I’d roast you so hard your ancestors would feel it!】 This anonymous hero was attacking every negative comment with a vicious, take-no-prisoners style that was… strangely familiar. It almost sounded like… Liam? I shook the thought out of my head. My heart swelled with gratitude. Like a thief in the night, I snuck through the comment section, leaving a few ‘likes’ on his replies. A true bro, I thought. A friend in need. 05 The drama simmered online all night, cementing my reputation not only as the industry’s Queen of Cutesy, but also as a shameless clout-chaser. So, the next day at the studio, Tricia Stone looked at me with an extra dose of arrogance. She sashayed past me, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Skylar, you didn’t sleep well last night, did you?” I was confused. “I slept great.” Her expression soured instantly. She shot me a venomous glare and stormed off. For the rest of the morning, Tricia seemed determined to trip me up at every turn. Maybe because I was used to being my parents’ punching bag my whole life, I was completely unfazed. But my indifference only made her more furious. I stood “innocently” outside her dressing room, listening to the chaos erupting within. It was Tricia and her agent, Wes. “I told you to make your voice sweeter, cuter! Were you even listening to me? Look at the mess you made last night!” Wes yelled. Tricia sounded like she was at her breaking point. “How the hell was I supposed to know I’d get matched with that monster Liam in a random game! And besides, I fixed it, didn’t I? The internet totally believes it was Skylar Song. There’s no way they’ll figure out it was me!” “It only worked because Skylar’s reputation is already trash! Otherwise, who would believe that god-awful screeching was her?” Wes was practically tearing his hair out. “I told you to learn from Skylar! Look at her! Her voice is so sweet, so natural. Why can she do it and you can’t?! Half of your fame is built on this sweet-girl persona! Do you even understand what that means?!” He groaned, a truly pathetic sound of masculine despair. “Aaargh! Why can’t there be a person with Tricia Stone’s face and Skylar Song’s voice! Do you know how stressful it is for me, living in constant fear that you’ll be exposed?!” Tricia’s face turned black. The sweet act was gone. “Screw you, Wes! So what if I can’t beat Skylar? You’re such a clueless idiot!” BAM! The dressing room door flew open, and I was face-to-face with a fuming Tricia. A wicked impulse took over me. I let out a long, melodic whistle. I watched as her face flushed a deep crimson, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “You… you…! How much did you hear?” I kept my voice soft and gentle, speaking slowly and deliberately. “You. Are. Faking. It.” 06 It was like I’d flicked the switch on a boiling kettle. Tricia started hopping on the spot, almost screaming. “So what? So what? So what! Did I eat your rice?! Just you wait! Next month, I’ll show you! I’ll make the whole world see who the true Greek Goddess of the Baby Voice is!” I raised my hand meekly. “Actually, the internet is calling mine a ‘hiccup-voice’ now.” Tricia froze. “Where did you train? Ugh, no, I mean, how the hell did you change it up again?!” I deadpanned, making it up on the spot. “The Siren’s Song Academy. Mastered about forty percent of the technique. It’s all in the soft palate.” She glared, spitting out a final threat. “You just wait! I’m signing up!” … Hahahahahaha! Oh my god, I was holding in my laughter so hard I could barely breathe. I was wondering just how she planned to “show me,” when the answer arrived. The official cast list for the reality show Liz got me was announced. And Tricia was on it. It was, without a doubt, a legendary lineup. Male guests: The award-winning actor Liam Vance, renowned voice actor Ethan Cole, and pop king Julian Croft. Female guests: It-girl Tricia Stone, veteran actress Carla Vance. And then there was me, Skylar Song, the industry’s resident faker. I stuck out like a sore thumb. The internet, of course, noticed immediately. 【Is this a joke? How did Skylar Song sneak in here?】 【Slept her way in, probably.】 【How does she still have the nerve to show up? Liam already called her out for faking her voice. Does she have no shame?】 【Don’t worry, our boy Liam will handle it. He probably won’t be able to stand it the second she opens her mouth.】 They were right about one thing. But what the internet didn’t know yet was that Liam, indeed, couldn’t stand it. Just not in the way they thought. 07 On the way to meet the show’s production team, I ran into Ethan. “I thought you hated this kind of stuff,” I asked, curious. Ethan was a giant in the voice-acting world, but after three years in the industry, he rarely did interviews. Most people didn’t even know that behind the god-tier voice was a total goofball. He slung an arm around my shoulder. “Couldn’t let you face Liam alone, could I? How about it, impressed? Don’t worship me, kid. I’m just a legend.” He gave me a smarmy wink and, in his best “brooding CEO” voice, asked what I thought. Before I could answer, a scornful chuckle echoed from behind us. “Greasy.” Liam strode past us, moving so quickly he seemed to purposely bump Ethan’s shoulder. I shrank back, exchanging a look with Ethan. “Did I do something to him again? I didn’t even say anything.” “Nah, he’s probably just salty.” Ethan and I huddled together, whispering. From behind us, Liam’s assistant was shouting. “Liam, my man, would you look back for one second! You forgot your assistant!” He sprinted toward us, the ten pounds of extra weight on his belly jiggling violently. He was panting like an old steam engine. “Hah… huff… wheeze! Damn it, who knows what crawled up his butt today. Seriously, who is the one working this stupid job anyway!” 08 The show was being broadcast live, so Liz had given me a strict lecture about my behavior. “Listen to me, kid. Be sweet. Call everyone ‘bro’ and ‘sis,’ you got it? You’re not gonna let me down, right?!” I nodded with a grim certainty. “…Of course not, Liz. You can count on me to make things worse.” Pain. First, I had the entire internet convinced my voice was a crime against humanity. Then, I had Tricia threatening to expose me in front of millions. And caught in the middle was Liam, the A-list actor who had publicly called “me” a faker. This was a terrible start. I was so doomed I didn’t even have the energy to protest. Everyone expected me to fail, and I had no intention of proving them wrong. Everyone thought I was a joke, and honestly, I was. And to top it all off… The game hadn’t even begun, and I was already about to die. My eyes widened in horror as I pointed at myself. “Why me?!” A smiling crew member clipped a microphone and a tiny camera to my collar. She patted my head, surprised to find that I felt like a soft, fluffy piece of cake. A wave of maternal affection washed over her. “There, there, sweetie. You were the first one awake, so the director wants you to go wake up Liam.” The truth was, the director had smelled the sweet scent of viral drama from our recent trending topic. The viewers who had tuned in early were treated to this juicy scenario right off the bat. The live chat exploded. 【Grab your popcorn, people, this is gonna be good! Don’t go back to sleep!】 【LMAO, the producers are evil! Everyone knows Liam has a temper when he wakes up. Poor Skylar is about to get yelled at until she cries.】 【Hey, she has a name. Stop calling her that. Honestly, I think her voice is perfectly sweet.】 【You guys, seeing her up close… Skylar is even prettier. And that figure, I’m so jealous I could cry. If it weren’t for all the bad press, I think I’d be a fan!】 Even I, who tried to avoid social media, had seen the viral clips of Liam’s legendary morning crankiness. Oh god. Just kill me now.

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