My husband has been acting strange lately. His hugs are stiff, his kisses clumsy, and our time in bed… let’s just say it’s been a disaster. I was starting to wonder if he wanted a divorce, but then I stumbled upon his browser history and found a recent post he’d made: [Woke up and I’ve time-traveled ten years into the future. My high school crush is my WIFE! What do I do now, ahhhhhh!!] Me: “?” 1 “You’re back.” My eyes lifted to the man standing in the entryway. He held his custom-tailored suit jacket in one hand, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck. Even his hair, usually styled to perfection, was a mess, sticking up in every direction. He looked less like he’d just returned from a business trip and more like he’d just survived a bar fight. I shot up from the couch. “Did things go badly at work? What happened to you?” Liam Bernstein didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at me. His gaze was so intense, so fixed, it felt like he was trying to memorize every line on my face. I couldn’t help but walk over to him. I hooked a finger around his loosened tie and gently pulled him inside, my voice laced with a playful complaint. “What’s the matter? Forget what I look like after just a few days away?” He let me lead him a few steps before he finally stammered, “N-no. I remember.” I glanced back at him. His eyes were still locked on me, wide and unblinking. There was a raw hunger in them, but it was mixed with a wide-eyed innocence, the kind you’d see in a teenager. I shot him a playful glare, then wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. “You missed me that much, huh?” The man in my arms went rigid, his breathing shallowing to a near halt. His eyes darted around nervously, his lips pressed into a thin line, hands clenched into tight fists. He looked like a saint trying to resist temptation. I found this new version of Liam… fascinating. Usually, after a business trip, he was the one who turned into a wolf the second he walked through the door. I planted a soft kiss on the sharp line of his Adam’s apple, then whispered into his ear, letting my breath ghost over his skin. “Weren’t you the one on the phone promising to completely wreck me when you got home?” I held him tighter, feeling his body tense up even more, and softened my voice to a purr. “So, husband… how exactly are you going to wreck me?” The proximity was too much. I felt the immediate, unmistakable shift in his body. My hand was just beginning to drift downwards when he suddenly shoved me away. I stared at him, stunned. His entire face was a deep shade of crimson. When he spoke, his voice was so hoarse it sounded like it had been scraped with sandpaper. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I, uh… I haven’t showered yet…” And with that, he practically bolted into the nearest room—my office—and slammed the door shut. I was left standing there, utterly bewildered. 2 Rejected and confused, I curled up on the sofa to sulk. He was always the one complaining that I wasn’t proactive enough. But the one time I decided to take the lead, he was the one to turn me down. What was wrong with him? Fine, I fumed silently, I’m never speaking to him again. Just as I made that vow, I heard a noise. The office door creaked open. Liam peeked out, shot a furtive glance in my direction, and then scurried into our bedroom like a thief in the night. I raised an eyebrow. Even though I was still annoyed, my curiosity won. I followed him. Wouldn’t you know it, the second I reached the bedroom, he ducked into the master bathroom. A moment later, I heard the shower turn on, the sound of the water a poor attempt to cover his escape. He was definitely hiding from me. Resigned, I walked to the bathroom door and tried the handle. It wouldn’t turn. He’d locked it. Okay, now I was certain. Liam was actively avoiding me. He never locked the door. He was the kind of man who’d lounge in the bathtub and call out with a teasing grin, “Honey, you sure you don’t want to join me?” Standing outside the locked door, I had a rare moment of self-doubt. Was I too aggressive just now? But compared to how Liam usually was with me, what I did was nothing. Wasn’t he always the one showering me with kisses and pulling me into his arms? Wasn’t he the one who would turn our world upside down for days on end? The one who left me so sore I couldn’t get out of bed? And now? I make one move, and he acts like I’m the plague? My annoyance flared into full-blown anger. I swore to myself that when he finally came out, I was going to make him pay. I ended up waiting for a full hour. When Liam finally emerged, his earlier awkwardness was gone. He looked composed as he said my name. “Chloe.” I just grunted, keeping my back to him. He rushed to my side, a stream of apologies tumbling from his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I just… I froze for a second. You know, we haven’t seen each other in days, and I missed you so much…” He buried his face in the crook of my neck, nuzzling me gently. The familiar sensation started to melt my anger. I looked up at him. “Don’t think you can get off that easily.” “You can stay mad. It’s okay.” He looked at me, his eyes shining like an eager puppy’s. For a moment, I felt a strange sense of disconnect. The Liam I knew would never look at me like this. It wasn’t that his gaze lacked love before, but his love had always been intertwined with a fierce, possessive desire. Now, that desire was still there, but it was swimming in a sea of pure, almost boyish adoration. My hand instinctively rose to cup his cheek. “What is going on with you?” “Nothing.” He wrapped his arms around me loosely, resting his chin on my shoulder. He sounded like he was whispering a secret to himself. “I’m just… I’m so happy.” He let out a sigh, a soft, wondering sound. “I can’t believe you’re my wife. I’m the luckiest man alive.” I gently pushed him back. “We’ve been married for almost two years. Isn’t it a little late for that kind of talk?” “It’s never too late,” he insisted, a playful stubbornness in his voice. “I could say it every day for the rest of my life, and it would never be too late.” His sweet words worked. My anger evaporated, and I generously pressed my lips against his. I held them there for a full ten seconds. He didn’t move. Not an inch. I peeked through one eye. Liam’s expression was one of pure shock, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. His face was a battlefield of conflicting emotions—he desperately wanted to kiss me back but was terrified to try. My lips still on his, I murmured, “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” “Yes. I am. I want to.” As he spoke, his lips unconsciously began to move against mine. It was like a switch had been flipped. He started to kiss me, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, but something still felt… off. Why is he kissing me like it’s his first time? He doesn’t even know how to breathe! I opened my eyes again. Seeing the raw excitement on his face, I didn’t have the heart to stop him. Oh, well. I guess even a clumsy, hungry kiss has its own charm. 3 I magnanimously forgave all of Liam’s bizarre behavior, but he just kept getting weirder. The weirdest part? He stopped touching me. This was a massive red flag. Since the day we got married, the man had the libido of a rabbit. Suddenly, he’d turned into a monk, and frankly, I wasn’t used to it. We’d be lying in the same bed. I’d inch closer to him. His breathing would quicken, but he wouldn’t touch me. I’d wrap my arms around him. His body would react, but he still wouldn’t touch me. It was like he’d become a master of self-control overnight, practicing celibacy as if he were saving himself for someone. This sudden chill in our marriage was driving me crazy. I called my best friend, Zoe, and dragged her out for drinks. I avoided talking about Liam, rambling about everything else, but she saw right through me. “Why hasn’t Liam called you yet?” she asked with a teasing grin. “Normally, whenever you’re out, your phone is blowing up with his texts and calls. What’s up? Did you two have a fight?” I pursed my lips and took a bitter sip of my wine. “He doesn’t love me anymore.” “Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Zoe scoffed. “Anyone with eyes can see that man is head-over-heels for you.” That was all it took. The floodgates opened, and I told her everything—all of his strange behavior, with a special emphasis on his newfound vow of chastity. “What could possibly make him act like that?” I finished, taking another angry gulp of wine. “He’s practically sleeping on the far edge of the bed, like he’s afraid I’ll bite!” “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” she said, trying to soothe me. “Maybe… maybe there’s something he’s not telling you? Something he’s embarrassed about?” My mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario: he couldn’t perform anymore. But then I remembered the very obvious evidence to the contrary. He was more than capable; he was just choosing to endure the torture rather than touch me. “He was on that business trip in France, right?” Zoe continued. “I heard things can get a little rough over there. What if he got hurt and is afraid to tell you?” That thought hadn’t occurred to me. “He wouldn’t want you to worry, you know? That makes total sense. And you said his flight back was delayed by two days… what if it was because he needed medical attention? That would also explain why he’s been avoiding you…” She sounded so certain. “That has to be it.” Her words echoed in my head. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to rush home, strip Liam naked, and inspect every inch of his body for myself. It was past eleven when I got home. As I opened the door, Liam, who had been waiting on the sofa, jumped up and rushed toward me. But as he got closer, his brow furrowed. “You’ve been drinking?” If you were so worried, why didn’t you call me once? I thought bitterly. I brushed past his outstretched hand, but he was persistent, steadying me and guiding me to the couch. A moment later, he returned with a glass of honey water. I stared at him intently. “Are you hurt?” He shook his head, looking completely baffled. “No. Of course not.” “Then take off your clothes.” His face instantly turned scarlet. He hesitantly lifted the hem of his pajama shirt, then dropped it, his fingers fumbling. He repeated the motion a few times, paralyzed by indecision. I narrowed my eyes. “What, you won’t even let me see your abs anymore?” He stopped hesitating. In one swift motion, he pulled the shirt over his head. The torso revealed before me was flawless, ripped enough to be on a magazine cover. There wasn’t a single scratch or bruise, nothing like Zoe had suggested. I glared at him. “The pants, too.” “Ch-Chloe…” “Now.” He reluctantly complied, his movements awkward and shy. I stared at the man standing before me, vulnerable and flushed, and I finally snapped. I pushed him back onto the sofa, planting my hands on his shoulders and pinning him down. “Liam,” I demanded, “what the hell is wrong with you?” He looked up at me, a mix of shock and shyness in his eyes. “I… I don’t think anything’s wrong with me.” “Then prove it.” My voice dropped to a low, suggestive whisper as I looked into his panicked eyes. “Don’t make me think less of you.” Liam’s gaze met mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Just when I thought he was going to back down again, his hand shot up to cup the back of my head, and he crashed his lips against mine in a wild, desperate kiss. 4 As it turns out, you should never challenge a man’s pride. Driven by his fear of disappointing me, Liam spent the entire night proving himself. He went from clumsy and reckless to skilled and confident, and his performance was, to put it mildly, breathtaking. At the time, I was too busy—and too exhausted—to think about it too deeply. But the next morning, as I lay in bed, every muscle aching, all the strange pieces started clicking into place. Last night, Liam hadn’t been the mature, experienced husband I’d known for two years. He’d been more like a fumbling teenager who had just lost his virginity. He had no experience, no technique. His hands were shaking when he tried to put on the condom; he couldn’t find the right spot, and he almost finished before we even started. I’d had the urge to kick him off the bed, but seeing the sweat on his brow and the panicked look in his eyes, I’d held back. He eventually found his rhythm, even getting back to his usual impressive standard, but still… It was so, so strange. How could a man so skilled in the bedroom suddenly lose all his talent overnight? I turned it over and over in my mind, but I couldn’t make sense of it. Just then, the man in question pushed the door open and walked in. He was wearing a set of comfortable, loose-fitting loungewear. He’d clearly just showered; his hair was still damp, with a few stray strands falling across his forehead. It was a messy look, but it gave him an unexpected, boyish charm. Looking at him, I felt a wave of cognitive dissonance. He was both familiar and a complete stranger. Liam sat on the edge of the bed, a tray in his hands holding a bowl of white porridge. “Are you hungry?” he asked softly. “Eat a little something for now. We can have a proper meal later.” “Feed me,” I said quietly. “My arms are sore.” The tips of his ears turned bright red, but he calmly picked up the spoon and brought it to my lips. The porridge was the perfect temperature, but it was bland. He hadn’t added any sugar. I snuck a glance at him. Liam was meticulous about details; forgetting something as simple as sugar was completely out of character. The seed of doubt in my mind grew larger. After a few tasteless spoonfuls, I stared at his crimson ears and couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Why are you blushing?” Liam lowered his gaze. “Your… your clothes are a little messy.” I looked down. He had dressed me in a silk slip dress after we were done. One of the straps had fallen off my shoulder, revealing a swath of skin and a constellation of faint red marks. I was even more confused. “So what?” He reached out and gently adjusted the strap, his movements so careful it was as if he were afraid to touch my skin. I placed my hand over his, pressing it firmly against my shoulder. “We’re a married couple. Is there anything you haven’t seen?” Liam’s eyes widened in a flustered blink. The strangeness was overwhelming. I finally decided to just ask him directly. “What is wrong with you? You won’t kiss me, you won’t touch me… It’s like you’re a completely different person. Are you even my husband anymore?” “I am! I’m your husband.” “Then why are you stuttering?” It took him a few seconds to react. He placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to kiss me, clearly trying to shut me up. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it that easily. I pushed him back, my voice cold. “I want an explanation. Now.” Liam’s eyes fell. “A lot has happened recently, and I don’t know how to handle it yet. Can you just give me a little more time? I promise I’ll sort it out soon.” I’d rarely seen him like this. It reminded me of the broken, exhausted man who had first come home from his trip. “Is it about work?” I asked. “Y-yes. Yes,” he answered quickly. “It’s… complicated. I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.” He looked at me with such genuine apology in his eyes that all my suspicions melted away. It was rare for Liam to face a problem he couldn’t solve. So if he was acting a little strange, maybe that was normal, right? 5 “So you just forgave him like that? Chloe, you’re spoiling that man rotten,” my best friend Zoe declared, completely baffled. “What else was I supposed to do?” I swirled the tea in my cup, my gaze indifferent. “Keep fighting with him? Start another argument? What would that accomplish?” “So, is he still acting weird?” “It’s hard to say. Yes and no.” It was a bizarre feeling I couldn’t quite describe. Sometimes, I felt like Liam was just pretending to be close to me, but other times, it felt real. I chalked it up to me being overly sensitive. “Well, try not to overthink it.” Zoe clinked her cup against mine. I nodded, trying to reassure myself. “He’s a busy man. All I can do is be supportive—” My words were cut short when Liam’s assistant walked into the café. It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Seeing his assistant here, looking relaxed, was… interesting. When he came over to our table to say hello, I seized the opportunity. “Has work been crazy busy lately?” I asked casually. “It’s been manageable,” he replied. “No major problems? Nothing… tricky?” He thought for a moment. “Everything’s been running smoothly. Not that I’m aware of, no.” I offered him a tight smile and stood up. “That’s great to hear. I think I’ll head over to the office with you.” The entire car ride, my mind raced. Liam had lied to me. If his stress wasn’t from work, then what was the real reason for his strange behavior? I hated where my thoughts were going, but all the signs pointed to one devastating conclusion— He was falling for someone else. Maybe he’d met another woman, and that’s why he’d become so distant, so absent-minded with me. He was just going through the motions. His hugs were stiff. His kisses were wooden. Even when we made love, he seemed like his soul was somewhere else. He was nothing like the man I had married. Taking a deep breath, I walked into his office building, carrying the afternoon tea I’d picked up. I passed out the pastries and coffee to the staff in the executive suite, who cheerfully informed me that Liam was in a meeting. So, I sat in his office to wait. His phone, his personal tablet, and his laptop were all sitting right there on his desk. I’d never been the type to snoop. Liam had never given me a reason to doubt him. But now… now I was curious. What if there really was someone else? Without a second thought, I picked up his phone. I checked his texts, his call logs, his photo gallery. Nothing. Not a single suspicious thing. I raised an eyebrow and reached for the tablet. The passcode was still my birthday. I unlocked it, but instead of the home screen, it opened to the last page he’d been viewing. He must have just closed the cover without closing the app. It was a post on a forum, a plea for help. The title read: [Woke up and I’ve time-traveled ten years into the future. My high school crush is my WIFE! What do I do now, ahhhhhh!!] My brow furrowed as my eyes scanned the first few lines of the post. “Hey everyone, so I just graduated high school. The other day I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was in a strange city, and the girl I’ve been in love with forever was calling me her husband, asking when I was coming home…” I wondered why Liam would be reading such a ridiculous story, but then my gaze caught the username: MyWifeChloe. My eyes widened. My name is Chloe. My heart stopped beating. My fingers trembled as I tapped on the user’s profile picture, then navigated to their main page. And there, I saw it—the option to “Edit Profile.” The world went silent. This was Liam’s account. Which meant the person who wrote that post… was Liam himself. Holy. Shit.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384721”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The new assistant designer at the firm was… creative. She’d boldly taken a sixty-year-old client’s request for a Classic Heritage look and transformed it into Cozy Chic. She’d fearlessly reimagined a newlywed couple’s marital haven into a stark, funereal monochrome. I’d cleaned up her messes more times than I could count, doling out public reprimands and official penalties to no avail. When I finally decided she had to go, my partner, David, refused to sign off on it. “This is just how Gen Z is,” he’d said with a shrug. “They’re full of personality. Having ideas isn’t a bad thing.” I dropped the subject and said no more. Instead, I quietly resigned and started my own company. Later, I heard my old firm had stepped in it—big time. That same young woman, so cherished by the boss, had decided the design for the new City Hall was too stuffy. So, on her own authority, she’d had the entire thing painted Barbie pink. 1 “Ava, we have another situation.” My assistant, Leah, rushed into my office, her words catching in her throat. The look on her face told me everything. It had to be our resident creative genius, Miss Full-of-Ideas, striking again. After the Classic Heritage-turned-Cozy Chic incident, and the wedding suite-turned-mausoleum fiasco, I figured nothing she did could surprise me anymore. “Alright, spit it out. What client’s design did she butcher this time?” “Well, it’s not the design, Ava…” Leah stammered. “This time, she invited a few friends over to the client’s villa—the one that’s supposed to be handed over this afternoon. They had a party. It’s… a disaster.” Leah handed me her phone, and I swiped through the photos from the scene. A dull throb started behind my eyes. “Disaster” was putting it mildly. “Utter devastation” was closer to the mark. Furniture was overturned, garbage littered every surface, and a closer look revealed the tell-tale shimmer of discarded foil wrappers glinting in the debris. That, at least, could be cleaned. But the brand-new white walls were splattered with what looked like bright red hot sauce. The pristine white marble countertops were stained with dark, inky puddles that had already seeped into the stone. And the client’s custom-made, thousand-dollar wool rug was matted with several sticky, unidentifiable clumps of… something. The sheer scale of the wreckage was overwhelming. I didn’t even know where to begin. “When is the handover?” I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose, my eyes squeezed shut. “This afternoon. Two o’clock,” Leah whispered. “Right. Okay. I need you to schedule an emergency meeting with David and the other directors. Now,” I instructed. “And make sure Chloe is there. Have HR join, too.” Leah nodded, then hesitated. “There’s a small problem with that. Chloe is… still at the villa. She just woke up from her drunken stupor. She’s sleeping it off in the client’s master bedroom.” A white-hot rage flared in my chest. I shot to my feet, my palm slamming against the desk. Without another word, I stormed into David’s office next door. “Your little protégée has been busy,” I snapped, throwing Leah’s phone onto his desk. “You can either call the client and explain this yourself, or you can have her do it.” David didn’t appreciate the intrusion. He hastily blanked his phone screen and shot me an annoyed look. “Ava, how many times do I have to say it? We’re not a scrappy startup anymore. A little courtesy, like knocking, would be appreciated. Some things require privacy.” I was too furious to speak. If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d been watching highlight clips from Chloe’s livestream. I recognized the background; a few colleagues had shown it to me before, marveling at how these “slash-generation” kids all had side hustles. They’d even commented on how generous Chloe’s top donor was, sometimes dropping thousands in a single night. “Fine. I’ll remember that for next time,” I said, my voice tight. “Now look at the photos.” He picked up the phone. It was his design, his project. He recognized the villa instantly. A few swipes later, his face contorted with fury. He slammed his fist on his own desk, the sound echoing through the office. “Is this Mr. Sterling’s place? Who? Who the hell would dare to do this? I’m supposed to walk him through the final inspection this afternoon! What am I supposed to show him now?!” I crossed my arms, a humorless smile on my lips. “Who else? Your adorable, hand-picked assistant. Chloe.” The fire in David’s eyes died instantly, replaced by a flicker of awkward defensiveness. 2 David and I founded Apex Designs together. We’d been classmates in design school, friends for years. Through all the tough times, we never compromised on our design philosophy or the quality of our work. We clawed our way through the lean early years and slowly built the firm into what it was today—a respected company with hundreds of employees, a stellar reputation, and an IPO on the horizon. Then, after the New Year, David showed up with a young woman in tow. His new assistant. Chloe arrived with a cloud of pinkish-purple curls, wearing a sheer, cropped blouse, denim shorts that were more pocket than pant, and a pair of Crocs. The entire office, myself included, was stunned. But David waved it all away. “This is the new generation,” he’d declared. “It’s personality, especially for a cutting-edge designer. We should encourage it.” When I asked about her education and experience, however, Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears. “The school was mean, they wouldn’t give me my diploma,” she’d whimpered. “I’m super sad about it, but I don’t wanna talk about it.” I was floored. As the co-founder and Design Director, I had standards. An employee with that level of emotional maturity didn’t meet any of them. But David was inexplicably moved. He laid down the law, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Our firm is too buttoned-up, Ava. It’s full of straight-laced people. It feels… stagnant. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve felt any real passion or inspiration for design?” I said nothing. He was the CEO, I was the VP. In the end, I had no real power to veto his choice of assistant. But my silence unleashed a torrent of problems. This girl, Chloe, was certainly… special. She complained that the catered lunches weren’t to her taste, and after a few tearful sessions with David, corn dogs and french fries were added to the menu. She couldn’t possibly drink plain bottled water, so she’d wheedled David into having the admin stock the fridge with Capri Suns and Yoo-hoos. That was just the beginning. Her “brilliant ideas” started small, with unauthorized tweaks to approved designs. She’d swap out a client’s bedroom hardwood floors for cold tile, or their bathroom porcelain for brutalist concrete. She’d tear down walls for an open-concept kitchen a client never asked for. She even had a magnificent crystal chandelier a client had hand-picked ripped out and replaced with soulless recessed lighting. Every time a client stormed into our office, furious and demanding compensation, Chloe would simply hide behind David, her eyes shimmering with tears as she offered her defense. “David, babe, their ideas were just so dated,” she’d pout. “They just don’t get what’s trending now. I didn’t want our company’s work to look basic. Is it so wrong to have artistic integrity?” And David, after a moment’s thought, would actually conclude, “Her intentions were good, even if the execution was a little off.” With him covering for her, Chloe grew bolder. Soon, she was changing entire design schemes without consulting anyone. Mediterranean became minimalist, Scandinavian became French Country, Japanese Zen became Korean Cottagecore… she was a force of stubborn, chaotic creativity. She refused to stick to a plan, insisting on her “spontaneous inspiration.” The project managers assigned to her were losing their minds. But she was the CEO’s assistant, and David doted on her. Everyone assumed she had connections, so no one dared to cross her. When I finally cornered her and demanded an explanation, she blew a bubble with her gum and smirked. “The clients have terrible taste. I’m just giving them the hottest styles from Pinterest.” And after every disaster, David would sigh, comfort Chloe, and then send me to smooth things over with the client. How do you smooth over something like that? With money. Lots of it. We either had to undo her changes for free and throw in an upgrade, or we had to compensate them for lost time and emotional distress. I made a point of deducting every single dollar from Chloe’s salary. But all it took was one tearful visit to David’s office, and after a token lecture, he’d absorb the cost himself. As long as someone else was paying, I couldn’t say much. But this time, she had gone too far. 3 The owner of the villa, Mr. Sterling, was the CEO of a major real estate development company. He’d given us the contract for his personal residence as a favor to a mutual business partner. We were all hoping this project would be the gateway to a much larger contract for all of his company’s new model homes. Now… well, now he probably wanted to kill us. David and I were at a standoff in his office, the argument raging. I was adamant: Chloe had to be fired. She was a liability who did nothing but cause trouble and act like a child. He wouldn’t budge. He kept insisting there must have been some kind of misunderstanding. I was livid. “A misunderstanding? Are you going to go tell Mr. Sterling it was a misunderstanding? That’s as good as telling him we’re an unreliable, untrustworthy firm! We can’t meet a simple deadline, and if he finds out what really happened, do you think he’ll ever feel comfortable living in that house?” David’s brow furrowed as he grasped for a defense. “I know Chloe. She has a lot of ideas, sure, but she wouldn’t do something this insane. Besides, even if you fire her, there will be a thousand other Chloes. That’s just how Gen Z is. Having ideas isn’t a bad thing.” His twisted logic made me want to scream. “Where are you getting this idea that I have a problem with Gen Z? Leah, Josh, Kate—they’re all Gen Z. When was the last time any of them caused a five-alarm fire? Since you’re so determined to protect her and clean up her messes, why don’t you just take her home and keep her as a pet? Why inflict her on the rest of us?” That hit a nerve. He blurted out, “You know, Ava, now that you mention it, why are you always so focused on Chloe? There are plenty of other young employees here.” I stared at him, incredulous. Before I could even form a response, the door swung open. “You don’t have to ask, David, babe. I know why,” Chloe announced, sauntering in with a messy bun and the hungover face of someone who’d just woken up. She was sipping a large bubble tea. “Ava’s, what, eight years older than me? We’re practically from different generations. Of course she doesn’t get me,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Besides, I’m young, and I’m always around you… It’s only natural for her to feel a little… threatened.” 4 The room fell silent. Every eye in the office, including the directors who had gathered for the meeting, turned to me. I was utterly baffled. David and I had known each other for a decade, worked side-by-side building this company. Sure, in the early days, there might have been a spark, a mutual flicker of something more as we supported each other through the struggle. But years of working together day in and day out had ground that spark into dust. For my part, at least, my feelings for him were purely platonic and professional. Besides, I had other things on my mind. Over the holidays, I’d reconnected with an old high school classmate at a wedding. He worked in the same city, we’d hit it off immediately, and just last month, I’d accepted his proposal. But that was my private life; I saw no reason to broadcast it at work. Not to mention, ever since Chloe’s arrival, David had been too busy either parading her around to meetings or cleaning up her disasters to pay attention to anyone else’s life. I dropped all pretense of politeness. “Get your head on straight,” I said to Chloe, my voice ice-cold. “I am the Vice President of this company. As an employee, do you think it’s appropriate to spread malicious rumors about me? This is a workplace, not a daycare. Act like a professional. As for Mr. Sterling’s villa, the company could sue you for the damages, and we’d win. So, which will it be? Are you going to pay for the repairs, or do we handle this through our lawyers?” The bubble tea suddenly seemed less appealing. Chloe’s lower lip trembled as she turned her big, pleading eyes to David, just as she had countless times before. “David, I didn’t mean to! My friends heard that the famous designer David himself did the villa, and they all wanted to see it. I was so proud of you, I just had to show them… We got tired and just had a little snack… Besides, doesn’t the company have a cleaning crew? Just have them tidy up. If we don’t say anything, the client will never know.” A flicker of conflict—and a hint of pity—crossed David’s face. I saw him start to soften. “David,” I cut in sharply before he could speak. “Mr. Sterling is expecting the final walkthrough in two hours. You need to figure out what you’re going to tell him.” Chloe piped up, her voice a syrupy whisper. “It’ll be fine. I don’t think Mr. Sterling is mean and scary like some people. He’s probably just like the big-spender fans in my livestream. They all adore me. It’s okay, David, babe, I’ll go with you this afternoon. I’ll just bat my eyelashes and ask him nicely to forgive us.” David’s expression relaxed. He gave her a half-hearted scolding. “Chloe, you were in the wrong here. You need to sincerely apologize to Mr. Sterling this afternoon.” Her tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. “You got it!” Seeing that he was once again going to shield her, I gave up. “Fine. Whoever made the mess can clean it up. But I’m putting it on the record right now: if this isn’t resolved today, either she goes, or I do.”

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After I failed to conquer three male leads, the System was about to delete me. Suddenly, it was forcibly logged out. 【Hello, Host. I am Advanced System 001, and my mission success rate is a perfect one hundred percent. To maintain that record, you will now restart your missions with those three failed targets.】 A pained sob escaped my lips. “…I can’t grovel anymore. I really, truly can’t.” 001 let out a cold laugh. 【Grovel? Screw grovelling. If anyone refuses to love you, I’ll just kill them.】 I blinked. “Huh?” 1 My body was dumped on a muddy mountain path. Disembodied, I watched as wild beasts tore me apart, leaving nothing but a pile of clean-picked bones. As my spirit floated in the air, I was pulled back into the stark white space of the System. A blue orb of light bobbed before me, shaking in disappointment. 【Regrettably, Host, you have failed three consecutive conquest missions. According to the Transmigration Codex, as your System, I have the right to proceed with your deletion.】 I didn’t argue. After three catastrophic failures, I had lost all hope. The three targets were worse than the last, each one a special brand of asshole, and I’d been forced to cater to them, to cast aside my dignity and act like some pathetic, fawning dog. If I resisted, my old system would hit me with electric shocks or seize control of my body. In the end, it always led to a gruesome death without even a proper corpse to show for it. Now, hearing the sentence passed down, I just felt… tired. I didn’t even have the will to beg for my life. Giving up completely, I lay down on the pristine white floor to enjoy my final moments. 【Deletion countdown commencing. 3… 2…】 Before it could say ‘1’, the blue orb vanished from my sight. In its place hovered a golden orb, noticeably larger and more brilliant than my old system. It gave me a polite, almost imperceptible nod. 【Greetings, Host 739. I am System 001. Due to the one-hundred-percent failure rate of you and your assigned system, I will be taking over your case from this point forward.】 I sat up. “Take me over for what? I’m about to be deleted. A new system can’t change that.” 001’s tone was chillingly indifferent. 【Your case is an extreme outlier. Such a perfect record of failure is a rarity even within our Transmigration Division. Therefore, I have filed a petition to cancel your deletion. We will be deleting your previous system instead.】 My lips trembled. “Deleting…” Good riddance! I almost laughed out loud. But then it hit me. If 001 was taking over, it meant I had to go back. Back to the missions, back to the grovelling. The despair of that thought quickly extinguished the joy of hearing my old system was getting scrapped. “You know what? Just kill me.” I flopped back onto the floor, my voice thick with a misery I couldn’t hide. “I really don’t want to be a doormat for some guy again. Doormats get walked all over and end up with nothing.” To my surprise, 001 cried out, a note of genuine shock in its synthesized voice. 【That’s how your previous system made you complete your missions?!】 I was taken aback. “How else? If I didn’t play along, it would electrocute me or hit me with psychic attacks. At this point, I think I have PTSD from just looking at men.” The memory of all that bitterness and pain washed over me, and I started to sob, the tears flowing freely. “I really can’t grovel anymore…” 001 went silent for a moment before letting out that same, cold laugh. 【Grovel? Screw grovelling. If anyone dares not to fall in love with you, I’ll kill them.】 “Uh…” Dude, is that even allowed? 2 Before I could object, 001 teleported me into my first failed world. Its words still echoed in my mind. 【I, 001, do not accept failure. We get back up right where we fell.】 The first thing I felt was the cold, sticky shock of red wine splashing across my face. Asher’s icy gaze bore down on me as he stood with his arms crossed, looking down his nose at me. “Cut the crap with your cheap little tricks, Evelyn. If it weren’t for you, why would Isabelle be ignoring me? Since you love making a scene so much, go on, give everyone a show.” With a snap of his fingers, he summoned six large, brutish men. He even took the time to set up a camera, ready to enjoy the spectacle he had arranged. Only then did I realize I was wearing a slinky, backless red dress. The wine had soaked through the fabric, making it cling to every curve. Déjà vu hit me like a punch to the gut. This had happened before. Asher, annoyed by my constant presence, had blamed me for making the girl he was chasing, Isabelle, jealous. He’d hired these six thugs to humiliate me, filmed the entire thing, and posted it online. My reputation was destroyed. Isabelle later had me sold off overseas, where I died a particularly miserable death. The memory sent a tremor through my entire body. Asher saw it and smirked. “Scared now? It’s a little late for that.” He gave a nod, and the nearest thug started lumbering toward me. Just then, 001’s voice rang out in my head. 【Don’t be afraid, Host. I’ve downloaded advanced combat knowledge into your mind. Now, do exactly as I say.】 001 wasn’t lying. A strange, potent energy surged through me. I felt like I could take down eight men with my eyes closed. As the closest thug’s sweaty, leering face got inches from mine, I closed my eyes and threw a punch straight at his nose. There was a deafening BOOM. I opened my eyes. The thug was gone. In his place was a massive, gaping hole in the wall of the hotel room. The remaining five men stared, their faces pale with terror, and stumbled backward. Asher was frozen in place, his smug expression wiped clean off his face. 001 issued a cold, simple command. 【Now, go slap Asher a few times.】 A thrill coursed through me. “Just a few slaps?” 【If you’re so inclined, you can give him a proper beating.】 My fingers twitched. “Any… restrictions?” 【None. You can beat him until he’s a stranger, and then beat him some more until he feels like a long-lost relative.】 “Huh?” 001 was concise. 【Beat him until he gets on his knees and calls you ‘Mommy’.】 “…” I walked toward Asher step by step. Seeing their chance, the other thugs scrambled out of the room. Asher’s brow furrowed. “Evelyn, what do you think you’re doing?” “Asher,” I said softly. “Long time, no see.” He looked completely baffled. “What the hell are you talking about?” I didn’t explain. I just swung my hand, and the crisp sound of a slap echoed through the room. Asher was furious. “You’re the one who wouldn’t leave me alone! I was just pushing back—” Before he could finish, another sharp slap sent him stumbling. He fell backward, his head cracking against the edge of a cabinet. He grimaced in pain. “You! You bitch! I’m going to kill you!” I remained silent, letting my fists do the talking. Asher sputtered, “You just wait…” A punch knocked out a few of his teeth. “I’ll make you pay for—” A sickening crack signaled a broken arm. Finally, he started begging. “I was wrong! Please, let me go!” I kept at it, silent and relentless, until Asher’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out cold. 001 applauded in my mind. 【A shame you didn’t kill him, but it’s progress.】 My eyes widened. “Isn’t he my conquest target? If I kill him, won’t the mission fail?” 001 sounded utterly unconcerned. 【So what? If he dies, we’ll just pick another one.】 “…” 3 Killing him was out of the question. This was a world with laws, and if Asher actually died, I wouldn’t be getting away with it. But knowing his vindictive nature, just letting him go wasn’t an option either. He’d make my life a living hell. An idea sparked in my mind. I dragged his unconscious body onto the bed and consulted with my new partner. “001, can you hack Asher’s phone and get those guys to come back?” 001 sounded personally offended. 【Is that all you think I’m capable of?】 I was confused. “What’s wrong with that?” 【With my capabilities,】 001 declared haughtily, 【I could summon a hundred men.】 “Uh…?” I politely declined its attempt to flex its muscles. The original thugs soon shuffled back into the room, their eyes wide with terror the moment they saw me. They instinctively tried to bolt. I blocked their path. “Let me get the pictures I want, and I’ll double whatever he paid you.” With a nod, I pointed toward Asher, who was still out cold on the bed. The men exchanged nervous glances, but the allure of money won out in the end. After leaving the hotel, I found Isabelle waiting outside, her beautifully manicured hands clenched into fists, her eyes blazing with fury. “Why are you the only one who came out? Where’s Asher?” A strange smile played on my lips. “Who knows? Maybe he’s… enjoying himself.” Isabelle’s nails dug into her palms as she hissed a threat. “I’m warning you, Asher is mine. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll crawl out of our lives like the dog you are.” I patted her shoulder with faux sympathy. “Oh, honey, it’s not just ‘your’ world.” It’s a world for the seven of you. “?” Back at my apartment, the adrenaline finally wore off. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained, and struck up a conversation with 001. “So, 001, I’ve been meaning to ask. Why did you choose to bind with me?” 001 seemed preoccupied with something, taking a moment to reply. 【My performance has been number one for years. It’s gotten boring. I’d never seen a Host as spectacularly bad as you, so I figured, why not? You were such an unprecedented failure, it was a professional curiosity. Even if it’s a dumpster fire, I have to see how it burns.】 “Excuse me?” Are you even trying to be polite? 001 must have realized it had been a bit harsh, because it quickly added another comment. 【Honestly, you’re not that bad. You just got stuck with a defective system. 3412 was from the last batch of faulty units. It was just bad luck. It wasn’t your fault.】 I was so used to being berated and blamed by my old system that hearing those words… It wasn’t your fault. You’re not to blame. My nose tingled, and I felt an overwhelming urge to give 001 a hug. Too bad it didn’t have a physical form. The sentimental moment passed quickly, and 001 was all business again. 【We can’t switch targets until the current one is dead, so I’m giving you two options. Option one: continue pursuing Asher. Option two: kill Asher and we pick someone new. Your choice.】 I hesitated. “There’s no way Asher will fall for me after I beat him half to death. But I don’t really want to be a murderer either…” 001 made the decision for me. 【Simple. We stick with him for now. You just do exactly what I tell you to do.】 At one in the morning, Asher slowly regained consciousness. He rubbed his aching neck and tried to sit up, but a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He saw a woman sitting by his bed. She wasn’t speaking, just quietly peeling a piece of fruit. Hearing him stir, I turned my head, held up the fruit knife, and gave him a bright smile. “Asher, do you love me?” “?” “A GHOST! AHHHHH!” 4 I pressed the tip of the knife against his neck, a silent warning to shut up. The cold steel did its job, and Asher fell silent, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. “Be… be careful. Don’t let it slip.” I repeated my question. “Asher, do you love me?” He gritted his teeth. “Isabelle is the only one in my heart. No matter how much you force me, I will never love you.” I casually withdrew the knife and stuck it into a slice of apple. “Fine. I’ll ask you again tomorrow.” “…” For the next few days, I made a habit of popping up in front of Asher at random times. I’d beat him up, then ask him if he loved me. If he didn’t answer, I’d repeat the process. “001, is this really going to work?” I asked one day. 【There is a ninety-nine percent chance of success.】 I lowered my eyes. “And the other one percent?” 【The other one percent is that you beat him to death.】 “…” After nearly two weeks of this torment, Asher’s mental state was hanging on by a thread. The moment he tried to call the police for help, I conveniently presented him with the photos and videos from the hotel room. That broke him. He fell to his knees, begging me to leave him alone. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this hatred?” I looked down at the tear-streaked face of the man who had once held my life in his hands. “If you didn’t like me,” I asked coolly, “why did you let me get close? You enjoyed everything I did for you, treated me like your personal servant, and then threw me away like trash.” Don’t think I didn’t know. His signals had always been mixed. Every time I was about to give up, he’d toss me a scrap of affection, a breadcrumb of hope, just to keep me hooked. He got used to my devotion, all while telling his friends I was nothing more than a dog he could summon and dismiss at will. If it weren’t for that useless old system holding me back, I would have killed him myself long ago. Asher’s face went pale. He shut his eyes in resignation. “If that’s what this is about… fine. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend. Is that good enough for you?” I stared at him. “So, do you love me?” “…” “I guess you don’t love me enough,” I said thoughtfully. “See you tomorrow.” “…” I slipped out of Asher’s apartment through the window, oblivious to the venomous glare he shot at my back. He muttered under his breath, “Evelyn… I’ll make sure you die.” Then, he dialed a number. “Isabelle, can you help me with something?” Back at my place, I collapsed onto the bed, rubbing the ache in my temples. “How can Asher be so stubborn? My arms are getting tired from beating him, and he still won’t just say he loves me.” 001’s voice was calm. 【If he won’t say it, it means you haven’t been cruel enough. Next time, break both his legs, lock him in the house, and starve him for a few days. If he says he likes you, he gets a sip of water. If he says he loves you, he gets food.】 The more I listened, the more I started to feel a little creeped out. Just as I was about to ask where it learned these… techniques, my phone rang. It was Asher. He was trying his best to hide the hatred in his voice, speaking in a soft, gentle tone. “Evelyn, you wanted to hear me say I love you, right? Come to the abandoned factory on the outskirts of town tomorrow. I have a surprise waiting for you there. You have to come. I’ll be waiting.” Before I could even respond, he hung up. A heavy silence fell between me and 001. Me: “He must think I’m a complete idiot.” The trap was so obvious, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. 001: 【…He’s already been through so much. Just humor him.】 5 After some thought, I decided to go. 001 had been complaining about my slow progress, reminding me that we still had two more worlds to get through. If I didn’t wrap this up soon, it threatened to take matters into its own hands. The thought of its “water for like, food for love” theory was enough to convince me to just get this over with and give Asher what was coming to him. At four in the afternoon, I took a cab to within a hundred yards of the abandoned factory. I could see Asher from a distance, pacing anxiously at the entrance. When he spotted me, he rushed over, his eyes darting around nervously, but his smile was blindingly bright. “I have a surprise for you. Just walk inside and you’ll see it.” I raised an eyebrow. “So, do you love me today?” Asher: “…?” Since he wouldn’t answer, I gave him a familiar beatdown and tossed his groaning body to the side. “001, can you see if anyone’s inside?” 【The factory is empty.】 Feeling confident, I started walking in, but a strange, sweet smell hit me. 001’s voice suddenly shouted in my mind. 【Watch out! Retreat, now! The whole place is filled with sevoflurane!】 It was too late. I’d already taken a deep breath to identify the scent. My vision swam, and the world went black. 001: 【…】 A sudden torrent of cold water shocked me awake, and I gasped, shivering uncontrollably. 001’s voice sounded weak and distorted in my head. 【You’re awake?】 I didn’t answer. I was tied tightly to a chair. Across the room, Asher and Isabelle were huddled together. When he saw my eyes open, Asher’s face, swollen like a pig’s, twisted into a triumphant grin. “You’re finished, Evelyn.” A group of burly, black-clad men filed in through the door. Isabelle waved a hand in front of her face, a look of disgust on hers. “Don’t kill her. I was planning on selling her off overseas again.” Asher’s voice was sickeningly sweet. “Of course, darling. Anything you want.” He pulled out a small knife and pressed the cold flat of the blade against my cheek, his teeth grinding with rage. “Evelyn, did you ever imagine you’d end up back in my hands?” I ignored him, screaming at 001 in my mind. Me: I’m so sorry. This mission is a failure too. 001, surprisingly, was comforting. 【It’s not your fault. Asher’s just a bigger scumbag than we anticipated.】 I sighed. Me: Just remember to block the pain for me. I’ll see you in the next world. 001 let out a chilling laugh. 【No need. Asher dared to ruin my perfect record. Today, I’m going to show him what a real superpower looks like.】 Me: Huh? 【Confirmed timeline coordinates. Initiating reset.】 Me: ! Time snapped backward, rewinding to the moment just before I stepped into the factory. Asher was still on the ground, pretending to be unconscious. This time, I walked up and gave him a solid kick. He yelped in pain, the sound loud enough to draw out Isabelle and the thugs who had been hiding around the factory. “Asher!” He looked absolutely crushed. “What are you all doing out here?” Isabelle looked wounded by his tone. “She was bullying you! I couldn’t just stand by and watch.” “I was this close to luring her inside!” he despaired. “You…” I cut him off with a punch that sent blood streaming from his nose. I smiled sweetly. “Quite the setup you have here. All that sevoflurane must have been hard to get, huh?” “You—how did you know?” I wasn’t about to tell him my backup was stronger than his. I just hit him again. “Do you love me or not?” Isabelle tried to step in, but 001 summoned a perfectly aimed bolt of lightning from the heavens. Anyone who moved got zapped. Under the relentless storm of my fists, Asher finally broke. Tears and snot streamed down his face. “I love you! I love you, okay?!” 001 instantly captured the key phrase. 【Love from the conquest target has been detected. Calculating mission results.】 Back in the white space, I felt a little uneasy. “Are we really going to get away with cheating the system like that?” 001 was nonchalant. 【He said he loved you. I extracted that keyword and made a few thousand copies for the record. The Inspectorate won’t find a thing.】 “But what if they do?” 【What’s there to be afraid of? I run the Inspectorate.】 Me: “?”

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For twenty-five years, I’d been working to win over Bryan Croft. And he’d finally proposed. But on our wedding day, the one that got away came to crash it. “Bryan, you won! I’m divorcing him. Please… don’t get married.” I begged Bryan not to go, but he left me at the altar anyway. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [MISSION FAILED. MALE LEAD WILL BE ERASED.] The next second, Bryan dropped dead in her arms. 1 Before the wedding, I had asked Bryan, half-joking, “If Lena showed up on our wedding day and asked you to leave with her, would you go?” He’d run his fingers through my hair, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips. “Don’t worry, Viv. She won’t come.” It sounded less like he was reassuring me and more like he was trying to convince himself. I couldn’t let it go. “But what if she did?” A flicker of hope, so fast I almost missed it, crossed his face before he smoothed it over with that gentle tone he always used to placate me. “You silly girl. Stop letting your imagination run wild.” He knew that all it took was a little softness from him, and I would surrender. But not this time. I didn’t fall silent as he expected. “Bryan, please. I’m begging you. No matter what happens at the ceremony, can we just… finish it? Can we please just get married?” His brow furrowed in annoyance. “Vivian, have you had enough? Lena is married! She is not going to crash our wedding, do you understand?” 2 I didn’t want to be this desperate, but I wanted to live. I was on a mission, you see. My first and only assignment: win over Bryan Croft and marry him. The task itself wasn’t that difficult. It never required him to love me, only that he marry me before he turned thirty. To make sure I succeeded, I was sent here when he was just five years old. Back then, Bryan wasn’t the titan of industry he would become. He was just the son of a housekeeper, living in the basement of the magnificent estate owned by Lena’s family. The System set me up with a similar identity—the daughter of another maid. And so, I grew up with him. We navigated the awkward, beautiful maze of our youth together. We’d meet at 5 a.m. to study, pushing each other, cheering each other on. We wore the same fifteen-dollar sneakers and shared dollar hot dogs from street carts. We were poor, but we were never ashamed. We were each other’s backbone. At twenty, we both got into one of the country’s most prestigious universities with top scores. The day the acceptance letters came, we stood on the athletic field as the sun melted into the horizon. The warm, golden light bathed everything around us as Bryan, his face flushed, took my hand. “Viv,” he’d whispered, “I’m so glad you exist in this world.” 3 Back then, I was glad, too. Glad that the boy I had to win over was this fearless, determined soul. But then Lena returned from her studies abroad, and everything changed. Her father donated a new wing to the university, and just like that, she was one of our classmates. She was a supernova—dazzling, wild, and free. She was the goddess in every guy’s dream. But among her legion of admirers, one was conspicuously absent: Bryan Croft, the student body president. So, from her very first day, Lena made it her mission to conquer him. If Bryan was a block of ice, Lena was a wildfire, hell-bent on melting him down. He despised her at first, seeing her as nothing more than a spoiled heiress who had never known a day of real hardship. He told her, more than once, that I was the one he cared for, that we shared a bond that could never be broken. But a princess like Lena doesn’t care about such things. Like a stubborn bull, she slowly, relentlessly plowed her way into the fields of his heart. 4 Day after day, Lena whispered poison in his ear, insisting that what we had was just friendship. “You and Vivian are just used to each other,” she’d say. “It’s the comfort of routine, not passion.” “It’s a childhood bond, Bryan. True love is about desire, about wanting.” “Holding her hand is probably like your left hand holding your right.” I tried to fight it, but our years of quiet understanding had become a placid lake, too calm to create new waves. The more we tried to prove her wrong, the more it felt like we were proving her right. Still, neither of us wanted to admit it, to break the fragile surface. Finally, Lena lost her patience. At the university’s anniversary gala, she grabbed a boy who had just confessed his feelings for her and kissed him, right there in front of everyone. That night, the volcano inside Bryan finally erupted. I saw him pin Lena against a wall in the shadows, savagely crushing his lips against hers. Lena had finally gotten what she wanted. And Bryan and I… we went back to being friends. 5 Later, Lena brought Bryan home to meet her family. It was the first time I ever saw her father, a famously composed man, lose his temper. It was also the first time I saw the shadow of shame in Bryan’s eyes. Her father’s opposition didn’t tear them apart; it only fanned the flames of their romance. He cut off Lena’s credit cards, but their love burned hotter. Within a month, all the money Bryan had saved from years of part-time jobs was gone. He even borrowed from me several times and, for the first time since high school, asked his mother for nearly three thousand dollars. This was the boy who, alongside me, had been living off scholarships since we were teenagers. Bryan’s mom called me, her voice trembling with worry, asking if he was in some kind of trouble. I had to lie, telling her he was launching a startup and needed capital. But I knew the truth. All that drama, all that money… was for a Chanel bag Lena had set her heart on. Their breakup, when it came, was ugly. Lena couldn’t understand why Bryan was so angry that she’d bought a pair of twelve-hundred-dollar heels. After all, she used to wear heels that cost nearly three thousand. Bryan clenched his jaw and said nothing. But I knew. He wasn’t breaking up with her because he’d stopped loving her. He was breaking up with her because he felt he didn’t deserve her. 6 Five years passed. The Sterling family’s empire began to show cracks, their great ship listing in treacherous waters. Meanwhile, Bryan’s startup, Horizon Tech, was becoming a rising star. Whispers started that the Sterlings were looking for a strategic marriage to save their company. Bryan, full of renewed hope, went to them, only to be slapped down by reality once more. Even a sinking ship like the Sterlings’ was still out of his league. In the end, Lena married Sterling’s youngest son. Bryan fell apart. He spent his nights lost in a drunken haze, a ghost haunting the city’s bars. I spent my days cleaning up the messes at his company and my nights dragging him home. Every time I saw him, his face flushed with alcohol, I was reminded of the boy on the athletic field, bathed in the sunset’s glow. A bitter ache filled my heart. Back then, he really was glad to have me, wasn’t he? 7 There were only two months left until Bryan’s thirtieth birthday. I’d given up all hope of completing my mission. News had just broken that Lena and the Sterling heir were on the rocks and a divorce was imminent. I’d already said my goodbyes to my mother, my bags packed for a trip around the world. And then, Bryan got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. After all those years of waiting, to finally have my wish granted… to say I wasn’t happy would be a lie. But I couldn’t tell if I was happy because I would finally get to live, or because I would finally be with him. In the days leading up to the wedding, I asked him again and again if he was sure, if he truly wanted to marry me. Each time, his answer was a firm “yes.” Only when I brought up Lena did he falter. He couldn’t even bring himself to lie. But by then, I realized I didn’t care as much as I thought. As long as the wedding happened, my mission would be complete. 8 Throughout the entire ceremony, my heart was in my throat, terrified that something would go wrong. Bryan was just as distracted, though his eyes held a flicker of anticipation, as if he were waiting for a different show to start. And then, just as we were about to exchange rings, Lena appeared. It was like watching a butcher’s cleaver, raised high for an eternity, finally fall. And strangely, a sense of relief washed over me. “Bryan, you won!” she cried, her voice echoing through the silent hall. “I’m divorcing him. Please… don’t get married.” For the sake of my own life, I made one last, desperate attempt. I clutched the sleeve of his tuxedo. “Bryan, please, don’t go. Don’t you remember what you promised me?” I was so close. So close to survival. His face was a mask of apology, but he gently pried my fingers from his sleeve and walked toward his past, toward Lena. “I’m sorry, Viv.” “The truth is… this wedding was a gamble. Lena told me a divorced woman like her didn’t deserve me. So I thought… maybe if I was divorced too, she wouldn’t feel so insecure.” “And you… you’re my best friend. I figured you were the only one who would help me with something like this.” I stared coldly at the man I had spent twenty-five years of my life beside, and I found I had nothing left to say. System, I thought, my voice flat, I’m abandoning the mission. [Are you sure?] I’m sure. [MISSION FAILED. MALE LEAD WILL BE ERASED!] What? The System’s voice screeched in my mind, but before I could process it, Bryan’s eyes went vacant, and he collapsed into Lena’s arms. 9 Lena had no idea she was holding a dead man. She wrapped her arms around him, preening like a victorious peacock. “Oh, Bryan,” she cooed, her voice triumphant. “I knew it. I knew if I came back, you’d be waiting for me.” She tilted her head to kiss him, but her dark eyes locked onto mine over his shoulder, filled with contempt and provocation. I knew she was savoring this moment. In her world, Bryan was her devoted dog, and I was his. For years, she had carried an air of effortless superiority around me. But you’re kissing a corpse now, Lena. 10 At that moment, the single table of guests—Bryan’s hand-picked friends—erupted into whistles and applause. Someone even set off a party popper. Bryan must have anticipated Lena crashing the wedding. To protect her reputation as a married woman, he had only invited his closest circle, the ones who knew every sordid detail of their affair. As for me, I was so afraid something would go wrong, so terrified my mother might see me die on my wedding day, that I hadn’t invited her. The only guest on my side was my lawyer. He was currently recording the whole “epic reunion” on his phone. My original plan was that if the mission failed and I died, he would immediately leak the story to every major news outlet. I’d even written the headlines for them. Jilted Bride Literally Dies of a Broken Heart as Groom Flees with Married Mistress. I never imagined… that Bryan would be the one to die. 11 Lena held her kiss for a long moment before she finally realized the cold, gray stillness of Bryan’s face. A primal panic seized her, and she shoved him away. With a sickening thud, Bryan’s body fell rigidly to the marble floor, the back of his head cracking against the hard surface. Blood began to pool around him, a spreading halo of crimson. The System’s voice, cool and detached, returned. [Well, now he’s definitely dead.] Just then, I saw it—a shimmering, translucent form slowly rising from his body. It was Bryan’s soul. He stared in disbelief at the corpse on the floor… and then at Lena, who was now bent over, retching in horror. 12 Chaos erupted. Someone called an ambulance. Someone else started clumsy CPR. I, still in my wedding dress, walked calmly to Bryan’s body and knelt beside it, a silent sentinel. His ghost drifted near me. Seeing my dry eyes, his face contorted with anger. “Vivian, I’m dying, and you can’t even shed a single tear?” he sneered. “So much for twenty-five years of friendship. It’s all so cheap… When I wake up, we’re done.” I acted as if I couldn’t see or hear him, my expression a blank mask. Meanwhile, after her bout of vomiting, Lena composed herself. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks in perfect, glistening trails. A picture of heartbreak. Seeing her cry, Bryan’s ghostly expression softened. “Lena must be devastated,” he murmured. “How will she ever go on without me?” 13 A sharp ring cut through the air. Lena fumbled for her phone, her hand trembling as she answered. A man’s commanding voice was faintly audible. “I thought you wanted a divorce. I’m at the courthouse now…” A flash of panic crossed Lena’s pale face. She took a few steps away from the scene. Bryan’s ghost froze, instinctively reaching for her hand, only for his to pass right through. Lena lowered her voice, the tears vanishing. “Sterling, I’m sorry! I don’t want a divorce anymore… I only said that to make you angry, to make you jealous.” Hearing this, Bryan stared at the woman he had worshipped, his ghostly face a canvas of utter disbelief. How could those words come from her mouth? It couldn’t be. She must have her reasons. He desperately tried to grab her as she walked away, his form passing through hers again and again. “Lena, please, don’t go! Look back at me… I’m dying…” When he couldn’t stop her, he tried to follow, but an invisible barrier blocked his path. Bryan’s soul was tethered to me. All he could do was watch, helpless, as Lena fled the hotel. 14 The garden hotel Bryan had chosen was remote, and the ambulance took a full twenty minutes to arrive. As his body was loaded onto the gurney, his so-called friends all suddenly had “urgent business” to attend to and made their excuses. “Hey, sis-in-law,” one of them said, the man Bryan considered his best friend. “Call me if you need anything at the hospital. We’re family, after all.” I didn’t respond. He awkwardly shut the ambulance door. On the way to the hospital, Bryan’s ghost was silent. Perhaps even he was shocked by the faithlessness of the friends who had once hung on his every word. I closed my eyes and summoned the System. System, why was Bryan the one who was erased? [The name of this system is: Blame Others More, Reflect on Yourself Less.] [You worked diligently for twenty-five years and failed to win him over. Clearly, the problem was with him. So, he got erased.] I gritted my teeth. You couldn’t have told me that sooner? The System scoffed. [You never asked.] Your name really suits you. 15 At the hospital, after a flurry of activity, the doctors pronounced Bryan dead. His soul was still frantically trying to re-enter his body, crying and screaming, a whirlwind of denial, before he finally, slowly, accepted the truth. I took his body to the funeral home. I sent out notices to a few close family and friends, informing them of the funeral the next day. Once everything was arranged, I called my mom. “Mom, I’m going to visit Bryan’s mother today. Do you want to come with me?” Her voice was laced with confusion. “But it’s only the 10th. Don’t you usually visit her on the 15th of every month?” Hearing this, Bryan’s ghost flinched. “Viv… I didn’t know you visited my mom every month.” I paused. “Mom, I have to tell you something. Please, prepare yourself… Bryan is dead.” 16 My mother and Bryan’s were best friends back when they worked as maids for the Sterlings. Bryan’s mom had always doted on me, and my mom had treated Bryan like her own son. When we were little, classmates used to mock us for not having fathers. I remember smiling and telling him, “It’s okay, Bryan. We may not have dads, but we have two moms.” As we grew closer, our mothers were overjoyed. In their minds, the four of us were already a family. On the way to the nursing home, my mom couldn’t stop wiping her tears. Bryan’s soul sat in the back seat, his eyes red, lost in thought.

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The A-list actor Aaron Brown was going to be my son’s “Dad for a Day.” The entire internet was holding its breath for him. But when the live camera finally landed on my son, the chat exploded. 【Be honest, Aaron. Did you make a donation to a sperm bank a few years back?】 【OMG, what an adorable little marshmallow! He’s literally a miniature Aaron Brown.】 Thanks to his cute face and impossibly calm demeanor, my son and the movie star became the internet’s new favorite duo. I was in the middle of haggling with the production team over my son’s appearance fee when he suddenly toddled over to me—just another staff member in the crowd—wrapped his arms around my legs, and chirped in his sweet, milky voice: “Mama!” Across the room, Aaron Brown, the man I’d ghosted three years ago, looked like he’d been struck by lightning. 1 Backstage, the production team was scrambling. It was the first day of the reboot for the reality show Dad for a Day, and for the first time ever, it was being broadcast live. But the child star they had booked was a no-show, and the program was minutes away from a disastrous dead-air debut. After hearing the automated message, “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable,” for the hundredth time, the director slammed his script on the floor in a fit of rage. The impact was so forceful it sent the tower of building blocks my son, Finn, had just finished constructing, tumbling to the ground. The clatter of plastic drew everyone’s attention. Based on years of experience with child-centric reality shows, they all braced for the inevitable—a high-pitched, ear-splitting scream from a toddler in his sensitive phase for order, turning the already chaotic backstage into a living nightmare. But Finn just blinked his big, curious eyes, stunned for a single second. Then, he picked up the fallen script from the floor, wobbled over to the director, handed it back to him, and calmly returned to his blocks to start rebuilding his castle. No tears. No tantrums. Just pure, unadulterated chill. The director looked as if he’d found his savior. He dropped to his knees in front of me, where I was busy applying foundation to an actress. “Leah, I’m begging you! You have to help us out!” To reassure me, he promised, “The camera angles and the tasks will be super kid-friendly, I swear. No malicious editing, no online hate mobs. We’ll protect him.” That wasn’t what I was worried about. Finn’s emotional stability rivaled that of a capybara. Even if the producers had the guts to try and stir up drama, they wouldn’t be able to get a single negative clip of him. As for his looks, I was even less concerned. I occasionally posted photos of him online, and the comments were always a flood of excitement: 【OP, just ask me the question! You know the one!】 【YES! Your kid can absolutely be a child model!】 … What I was worried about was running into a certain someone who was also scheduled to be on this show. 2 I never thought Aaron Brown would accept an offer from our network. Traditional media had been on the decline for years, and Dad for a Day was the only show our station had that was still worth anything. But last year, the director had gotten a taste for controversy. The show became a cycle of malicious editing and deliberately casting difficult children to create viral clips of celebrities having meltdowns. The backlash was so severe that the show was temporarily canceled. Aaron had just won a prestigious acting award for his latest film. He was the hottest star in the industry. The production team had sent him an offer as a long shot, never dreaming he would actually say yes. After endless pleading from the director, I finally relented and agreed to let Finn be a backup guest. Besides, he could barely talk yet. Even if he did run into Aaron, it wouldn’t be a big deal. More importantly, the one running into him right now was me. I stood in Aaron Brown’s private dressing room, my head bowed, staring at the floor. I’d been roped in at the last minute to do his makeup. “Your assistant said you were bringing your own makeup artist, so the station didn’t assign anyone…” “Aren’t you someone?” Aaron’s deep, velvety voice washed over me from above. “Leah. Raines.” He read the name on my staff ID, a name that was both familiar and strange on his lips, and let out a cold, humorless laugh. A wave of guilt sent a tingling numbness across my face. “I… I don’t know how to do makeup for men.” It was a lie, of course. Aaron’s face was so perfectly sculpted that he could have gone on camera without a drop of makeup and still looked flawless. “Haha, Leah’s just being modest! She’s the best makeup artist at our station!” the director chimed in, pulling me aside. He lowered his voice. “I’ve already hyped you up. You know what to do.” He leaned in closer. “There’s only one Aaron Brown, but the station can hire a new makeup artist anytime. And there aren’t many places that will let you bring your kid to work, are there?” I had no choice but to bite the bullet. Aaron’s skin was pale, and it took me a while to find the right shade of foundation. Just as I was about to start, his assistant stopped me with a frown. “Is that a used makeup brush?” I was a staff makeup artist. Of course, my tools were shared. “Aaron is allergic to other people’s… residual skin cells. Didn’t you do your research?” “…” “They’ve all been sanitized,” I mumbled. “And his allergic reaction isn’t that severe. It’s usually just a little sensitive around his lips.” She reacted like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. “Can you take responsibility for that statement? If something happens to Aaron’s face, do you know how many projects it will affect? Can a little makeup artist like you afford to pay for that?” The live broadcast was about to start; the director was already counting down the seconds. I glanced at my personal makeup bag next to my suitcase and sighed. “This is all I have on hand… unless you want me to use my personal kit.” “Then use yours.” I froze. Aaron glanced at me, his tone strictly professional. “There’s no other choice, is there?” The director, terrified of being held responsible, scurried over. “Leah rarely wears makeup, but she must have used her tools a few times, right? Isn’t there still a risk of an allergic reaction?” “It’s fine,” Aaron said, his voice casual. “I’ve built up a tolerance.” His words landed like a torpedo in the small backstage room. Every single pair of eyes swiveled to look at me. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to leap out of my throat. Terrified of being assassinated by his fans at the station, I stammered, “We… we’re not a thing…” The air hung thick and still for a second. Then, Aaron’s expression turned icy. “I meant, I took my allergy medication.” Someone in the room snickered. “Leah, who asked you? As if Aaron Brown would ever look twice at you!” 3 She was right. Why would Aaron Brown ever look twice at me? He was now the Aaron Brown, the award-winning actor whose live broadcast could attract over a million viewers in the first minute. The live chat was already overflowing with sympathy for him having to appear on this show. 【His garbage agency is really pimping him out for views. Making him go on this trashy show… I still have PTSD from that screaming kid last season.】 【Some of these kids just throw things when they don’t get their way. Aaron, honey, make sure you hide your favorite guitar somewhere safe!】 【Oh god, the doorbell’s about to ring and my child-hating instincts are already kicking in.】 The camera followed Aaron as he moved. He was so tall that he completely blocked the cameraman’s view, leaving only a corner of a butter-yellow suitcase visible in the shot. It was a matching parent-child set with the one I used for my makeup tools. Aaron seemed to pause, lost in thought for a moment, before shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile. He knelt down to talk to Finn. “Hey there, little guy.” His smile was warm and inviting, but this was Finn’s first time interacting with a stranger all by himself. He was a little scared. His little mouth puckered, and his eyes welled up with tears. The director, watching from the sidelines, started freaking out into his walkie-talkie. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Is this kid gonna work out? Crying the second he’s on camera is going to kill our viewership!” “If it gets bad, just keep the camera locked on Aaron’s face.” But the cameraman didn’t seem to hear him. After a close-up on Aaron, he panned the camera directly onto Finn’s tear-streaked face. The director was about to unleash a torrent of curses when he noticed the live chat’s tone had suddenly shifted. 【HOLY S***!!! Aaron, be honest, did you make a donation to a sperm bank a few years back?】 【OMG, what an adorable little marshmallow! He’s literally a miniature Aaron Brown.】 【Did he just make a little ‘maa’ sound? Was that for Mama? Baby, your auntie is right here!】 【This is the first time I’ve ever heard a baby cry without it being ear-splitting. I want one. Can someone just leave one on my doorstep?】 In the blink of an eye, the number of online viewers soared past ten million. The director started to panic. Worried about offending Aaron, he had planned a series of simple, easy tasks. It was fine for the fans, but he was afraid it wouldn’t be enough to keep casual viewers interested. “Should we… maybe increase the difficulty?” he mused. The moment he spoke, I raised my eyebrow razor and made a sharp, throat-slitting gesture. I was the station’s resident pushover, someone anyone could boss around. But when it came to my son, I would not yield an inch. Finn was still sniffling softly, and Aaron, who had zero experience with kids, was completely overwhelmed. He grabbed his guitar from the side, hoping to distract him. Even though Finn desperately wanted me, he sat attentively and listened to the entire song. He even provided ample emotional support, letting out happy little coos since he couldn’t speak. But the moment the song ended, it was as if his main quest objective reloaded. He started whimpering again. “Mama…” Thankfully, the popcorn I had prepared was finally passed to Aaron. The instant the sweet kernel touched his tongue, Finn’s eyes lit up. After finishing one piece, he immediately started scheming for more. He squeezed his eyes shut, and two perfect teardrops rolled down his cheeks. In front of the monitor, the entire crew melted into adoring smiles. Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. “Nope. Little guys can’t have too many sweets.” He placed the popcorn bowl in a high cabinet. Based on past experiences, everyone braced for a full-blown meltdown. But Finn simply wiped his tears with the back of his hand and sat quietly on the sofa like a perfect little doll. His soft, pale skin and slightly pink nose made him look like a delicate, translucent shrimp dumpling. The live chat went into a frenzy. 【This is officially the easiest parenting challenge in the show’s history. Can we get this kid a global tour?】 【As a professional babysitter, I can confirm this child is an angel. He doesn’t scream, and he doesn’t throw a fit when you take away his snacks.】 【Forget a smooth delivery, I want a smooth pickup. I’ll take this one!】 Aaron was completely smitten. He tried to ask for his name, but Finn didn’t know how to say his own name yet. All he could say was “Mama.” I was busy arguing with the director about the appearance fee, not noticing the door had been left slightly ajar. Finn spotted my pink sweater, toddled over, and hugged my leg, his voice sweet and clear. “Mama!” Three years ago, Aaron Brown, the man I’d ghosted, stared at me, his face a thundercloud. “How old is he?” 4 The word “one” was still caught in my throat when the director jumped in. “He’s two and a half, I think. I remember seeing it on the forms.” I suddenly remembered that when I was job hunting last year, I’d intentionally aged Finn up by a year so potential employers wouldn’t see me as a liability on maternity leave. But I really didn’t want to get entangled with Aaron again. I had to correct him. “He’s not two and a half. He’s one and a half.” The director scratched his head, completely oblivious. “Oh, is that right? My mistake then.” And just like that, the light that had just begun to dawn in Aaron’s eyes was extinguished, leaving behind the wreckage of a storm. “…” “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” he asked later, during a commercial break. I tried to keep my distance, busying myself with tidying up and placing a large box between us. But he was tall and imposing, casting a long, dark shadow over me that made the cramped storage room feel even more claustrophobic. “Why would I lie to you?” I forced a casual smile. “I’m just stating a fact.” “Besides,” I added, “have you ever seen a two-and-a-half-year-old who can only say ‘mama’? If that were the case, I’d be the one crying my eyes out.” “But—” Aaron pulled out his phone and showed me the trending topics. The top three were all about him and Finn. “Then how do you explain this? The internet doesn’t lie! They’re all saying he’s my spitting image. How could he not be my son?” For a moment, I was tempted to pull out Finn’s birth certificate to prove it. But as my eyes moved away from the screen, I caught sight of his “suggested for you” search history. 【Is it normal for a two-and-a-half-year-old not to be able to talk?】 【Is it possible to be pregnant for a year and a half?】 【What are the chances of getting back together after a brutal breakup?】 What an idiot. But that was exactly what I’d fallen for—that unguarded, all-in passion. The problem was, the “me” he had fallen for wasn’t the real me. Back then, betrayed by both my boyfriend and my own family, I was afraid I was losing my mind. I dropped everything and escaped to a rustic ranch retreat in the countryside. I adopted a new name, a new personality, and surrounded myself with people who knew nothing about my past. The Leah I was there was sunny, confident, and radiant, capable of creating her own happiness. The real me was plain, insecure, and timid, constantly plagued by self-doubt. So, on the train ride back to the city, terrified that Aaron would eventually fall for someone else, I broke up with him over a text message. Though we had met again by a twist of fate, since he had forgotten, I had no intention of bringing it up. I curved my stiff lips into what I hoped was a relaxed smile. “My son doesn’t just look like you.” I casually let my phone screen light up, showing an incoming call from “Arthur Brown.” Aaron’s uncle. 5 Arthur Brown did not approve of me. But the moment he heard that the only heir of his late older brother wanted to get back together with me, he drove thirty miles straight to the TV station. The entire studio held its breath as he strode onto the set. It was almost jarring to see another face as handsome as Aaron’s. Years as a titan of industry had given Arthur a refined, aristocratic air that was uniquely his own. The online viewership numbers hit a new record. 【Did the show change formats? What other surprises are they hiding from us?】 【I don’t mind watching two handsome men raise a baby together. This is the kind of content we women need to get through the day!】 【So which one of them is the donor? The government wants us to have more kids, can we just get them to do a global donation tour?】 The director, who had been annoyed by the unexpected interruption, was now grinning so wide the wrinkles on his face could trap flies. “The ratings are secured!” His smile vanished a second later. Arthur’s assistant was ordering him to shut down the live stream. “On what grounds?” “On the grounds that eighty-five percent of your station’s advertising revenue for the past two years has come from the Brown Corporation.” The Brown Corporation’s sponsorship had started last year, right after I joined the station. Finn had been seriously ill, and I was desperate for money, but the struggling station was asking us to take a pay cut. At my lowest point, Arthur had suddenly appeared. He paid for all of Finn’s medical bills and then tried to give me hush money. I refused it. I never had any intention of telling Aaron about the child. But Arthur was cautious. He kept in touch, always finding some pretext to check in on me. “So the baby is yours, Uncle Arthur?” “When did you two get together? Are you married? How come I never knew?” Aaron fired off a volley of questions, grinding his teeth so hard I thought they might crack. “We’re not married. It was just a one-night stand.” I stirred my juice with a straw, wanting to end this entanglement as quickly as possible. The words slipped out, light and careless. Beside me, Arthur seemed to turn to stone. He was only five years older than Aaron and had been a strict, paternal figure to his nephew ever since his brother passed away. He was meticulous about his reputation, terrified of setting a bad example. In that single moment, the dignified, reserved image he had cultivated for years crumbled into dust. After a long pause, he finally picked up where I left off. “Heh, that’s right.” “Miss Raines and I will handle the child’s affairs together. Since you two have already broken up, it’s best you keep your distance.” “Keep my distance?” Aaron scoffed, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you, Uncle?” “Bringing a child into the world and then abandoning him, not even giving his mother a proper title…” He caught himself, quickly backtracking. “No, that’s not right. Anyway, since you two have no feelings for each other, I think it would be best if I raised the child. A proper moral upbringing is important, after all.” Arthur nudged me with his elbow. I thought he was annoyed at my reckless comment. Instead, he pulled out a diamond ring the size of a pigeon’s egg. “You’re right. Which is why I’ve been considering giving the child a complete family.” “Miss Raines, will you marry me?” Me: ? Aaron: !!!

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In the seventh year of my mission, Tim Stan’s first love killed herself. He cashed in his entire lifetime of good fortune, begging the System for the power to turn back time. He returned to the fateful moment he chose me over her. “This time,” he vowed, “I won’t let Willow suffer again.” He abandoned his wife and child, all for a second chance with the woman he truly loved. But he didn’t know— The System sent me back with him. And as compensation, my mission was over. I no longer had to be anyone’s wife or anyone’s mother. This time, I could just be me. 1 The System found me while I was in the kitchen, making a hangover cure for Tim. The familiar electronic voice echoed in my mind. [Host, it has been a while.] [The second male lead, Tim Stan, has petitioned the Overlord to rewind time, offering his life’s fortune in exchange. We are required to seek your consent.] [As your mission is already complete, you have the right to veto his request.] Crash. The glass slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. I turned, stunned. The living room was a disaster zone, littered with empty liquor bottles. There, beneath our family portrait, sat Tim, slumped in defeat. In his hands, he clutched a worn photograph of her—Willow Hayes. He stared at the smiling girl in the picture, his eyes bloodshot and wild with grief. “If I had known… I never should have let you go to him,” he choked out. “I should have stayed by your side, protected you, made sure you lived a happy life.” “How could you be so cruel? Why didn’t you think of me? Why didn’t you think of your big brother?” He was laughing and crying at the same time, a wounded, animalistic sound tearing from his throat. I watched him, a cold realization dawning on me. All this time. Even after all the years I had devoted to winning him over, even after marrying him and giving him a child… To him, I was still just the consolation prize. A convenient, laughable shield he used so Willow could chase her own happiness without guilt. 2 After a near-fatal car accident, I was bound to a Transmigration System. The world I entered was a novel, a classic romance about a neglectful hero who has to grovel to win back the woman he wronged. The hero, Damian Thorne, and the heroine, Willow Hayes, had a torturous love story that, after countless trials, ended in reconciliation. And Tim Stan was the devoted second male lead, the one who watched over her from afar and never married. The conflict between Tim and Damian exploded midway through the story. Damian was in the groveling phase of his character arc, clumsily trying to win Willow back. At the same time, Willow had become aware of the unspoken love her adoptive brother, Tim, held for her, and she was trapped in a painful state of guilt and indecision. The System told me my mission was to earn 100% of Tim’s affection. So, in the tenth year of my mission, when Tim set off a city’s worth of fireworks for me, got down on one knee in front of both Willow and Damian, and asked me to marry him… When I heard the System’s voice announce, [Congratulations, Host. Mission complete.]… I wept with joy. I chose to tell Tim everything—about the System, about the fact that his world was a book. And I chose to stay, to live out a new life with him, free from the novel’s plot. I had no one in my original world. As long as I could live, it didn’t matter where. Besides, somewhere along the way, I had truly fallen in love with him. I still remembered his trembling hands as he held out the ring, the frantic beating of his heart, the love that filled his eyes under the cascading fireworks. But it was all a lie. Tim had deceived everyone, including the System, all to free his precious girl from her guilt so she could run into another man’s arms. Now, seven years later, the novel’s plot had concluded. Willow discovered that Damian had cheated on her, that her happily-ever-after was a sham. She fell into a deep depression and jumped from a building. Her white dress had blossomed into a crimson flower in the wind. Only then did Tim finally feel regret. And in his desperation to go back and save her, he tore open the bloody, horrifying truth. How laughable. From beginning to end, Willow was his only destination. 3 “Tim, when you decided to go back, did you think about me and Caleb? Even for a second?” I asked him, clinging to one last sliver of hope. Caleb was our son, born in the first year of our marriage. He was premature, and his condition at birth was critical. Tim had the world’s best medical equipment and specialists flown in. He stood vigil outside the ICU for a week straight, without sleep. Only when our son was out of danger did he finally collapse from exhaustion, sleeping for three days and three nights. When he woke up, he bought three minor planets and named them after the three of us. He held our son and placed a soft kiss on my forehead, his eyes overflowing with love. “My love,” he’d whispered, “thank you for choosing to stay in this world for me. I swear, I, Tim Stan, will never let you down. From now on, our family will be like the stars in the sky, together forever.” It was because of Caleb that both Willow and I believed he had truly moved on, that he was wholeheartedly devoted to me. It was Caleb who sparked in Willow a longing for marriage and family of her own. After a few more rounds of drama with Damian, she finally accepted his proposal, and the story officially reached its grand finale. And now… Tim looked up at me, his eyes a terrifying, inhuman shade of red. He wasn’t surprised the System had told me. “You don’t have to worry,” he said flatly. “Just like you transmigrated into this book, when I turn back time, it will be like going to a parallel universe. Time in this world will freeze. Once I’ve helped Willow live a long and happy life, I’ll come back. You and Caleb will be fine.” As he spoke, his gaze drifted back to the photograph, tender and full of longing. He seemed completely oblivious to how utterly insane he sounded. My voice was hoarse. “You mean, after you go back, save Willow, and grow old with her, you’re just going to come back here and continue living with us?” Perhaps the raw despair in my voice finally got through to him. He tore his eyes away from his memories and looked at me, confused. “But I already helped you complete your mission, didn’t I? I gave you a second chance at life. How can you ask for more from me and Willow?” That single look sent a chill through my bones. I couldn’t stop shivering. His meaning was simple. I was the one who had stolen the love that rightfully belonged to Willow. I was a thief. And as a thief, I had no right to stop him from returning what he had stolen. It’s hard to describe the feeling. Before I could even process the grief, another blow landed. The phone rang. Our son, Caleb, was missing. 4 I called the police. I checked the security footage. I drove around his school all night, searching. He was only six. A little boy so pampered he refused to ride in anything but a sports car, a boy I had to coax into eating every meal. Why? Why would he pack his little backpack and trudge out into the pouring rain, only to vanish into a surveillance blind spot? Panic consumed me. Caleb was so young. It was dark, it was raining… what if he ran into someone dangerous? A tidal wave of regret washed over me. I should have picked him up myself. I shouldn’t have been so caught up with Tim. I collapsed onto the floor and finally began to sob. Seeing me in a state of utter breakdown, Tim stood up, a faint sneer in his eyes. “I know where he is.” “I’ll take you.” I didn’t have time to think. I clung to him like a drowning person to a piece of driftwood and followed. He wasn’t lying. He really knew where Caleb was. When we arrived, Caleb was holding his tiny umbrella, struggling through the downpour. He, who was usually so fussy about cleanliness, who had a mild pollen allergy, was covered in mud. He didn’t seem to notice. He was carrying a large bouquet of wild daisies, which he placed reverently in front of Willow’s tombstone. His eyes were red as he leaned against the black-and-white photograph on the stone. “Auntie Willow, I miss you so much.” “Daddy said you’re not really his sister. He said… you were supposed to be my mommy.” “I wish you were my mommy…” I couldn’t listen anymore. I dropped my umbrella and rushed forward to take him home. But he fought me, kicking and screaming. “No! I don’t want to leave Auntie Willow! It was you! You took Daddy away from her! You stole me from her tummy! I don’t want a wicked woman like you to be my mom!” He bit down hard on my wrist. Blood trickled down my arm, mixing with the rain. I cried out in pain and let him go. He scrambled away like a wounded animal seeking shelter and hid behind the tombstone, behind the cold, black-and-white photograph that offered him more security than his own living mother. Tim stood by, arms crossed, watching the whole scene with cold detachment, as if I weren’t his wife, as if Caleb weren’t his son. The only time his expression changed was when I stumbled and nearly crushed the daisies. He strode forward, his voice like ice. “Don’t get dirt on Willow’s favorite flowers.” I shoved him away, my eyes locked on Caleb. “Caleb… do you really not want me to be your mommy anymore?” He nodded without a second of hesitation. “Yes. If I could choose, I would want Auntie Willow to be my mom.” “Fine,” I said, nodding. I turned and walked away without a single backward glance at the father and son mourning their lost love in the rain. 5 Tim’s theory about parallel worlds was correct. What he didn’t know was that as compensation for his time travel, I had a choice. [If the Host chooses to return as well, this world will collapse and reboot.] [In the new timeline, the Host will no longer be bound by any mission and will be free to choose her own path.] The System’s electronic voice sounded almost cheerful. [Consider it a small humanitarian gesture from the Overlord for our returning agents.] [Host, have you decided? Will you stay or go?] I was momentarily stunned. No more missions. Then, a sense of relief washed over me. It made sense. I had already completed my task. The time reversal wasn’t my fault, so I shouldn’t have to work again. Out of a final, lingering sense of maternal duty, I asked, “What will happen to Caleb?” The System paused. [If Tim succeeds in saving Willow Hayes, Caleb will be born as their child.] I smiled softly. “Well, that’s the best possible outcome, isn’t it?” I would get health, freedom, and wealth. Tim and his son would get the woman they’d always dreamed of. The System sounded confused. [Are you not sad? You spent almost all of your accumulated points to ensure he could be born within the story’s original timeline, a child who was never meant to exist.] Sad? Maybe a little. But a new beginning was right in front of me. A life free from missions, untethered, completely my own. It was waving at me with open arms. Before, I had no choice. Now, I wanted to be myself. I shook my head. “Let’s go back.” This was their choice. Let them have it. A flash of white light, and I was back, six years in the past. The moment I opened my eyes, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Before I could even see who had hit me, I reacted on instinct, my own hand flying out to return the slap. Tim’s furious face came into focus. “Genevieve, are you insane?” Behind him, Willow Hayes was clutching her cheek, tears streaming silently down her face. The grand ballroom buzzed with the chatter of guests. Someone whispered, “Has the Sterling heiress lost her mind?” “Everyone knows Willow is the apple of Tim’s eye. It was just a dress. Was it really necessary to cause such a scene?” I remembered now. This was six years ago, at the engagement party for my arranged marriage with Tim. Willow, in an attempt to stop Tim from marrying a woman he didn’t love, had shown up wearing the exact same gown as me. “Genevieve,” she had hissed at me, “do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a cold, loveless transaction? Marriage should be about love, not business!” That was Willow’s logic. Love conquered all. Even though she hadn’t figured out her own feelings for Tim, she knew he loved her. So, to save him from a loveless, financially motivated marriage, she had come to crash the party. Back then, I had just smiled. “And can you give him that happiness?” I’d asked. “You know you two have no future, yet you come here to play the righteous hero. You give him hope only to snatch it away. Do you really think you’re so noble, Willow?” She couldn’t answer. She had stammered, her face turning crimson, and then shrieked as she slapped me. “This is between me and Tim! It’s none of your business!” The first time around, to protect my image in front of Tim and maintain his fragile affection score, I hadn’t fought back. But things were different now. So I slapped him too, right across the face, for getting in my way. Then, as he stared at me in disbelief, I shook my head slowly, a wild, unrestrained smile spreading across my face. “I’m not insane, Tim.” “I’m calling off the engagement.”

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Four years into our arranged marriage, and to Richard, I was still nothing. He could never get over his first love, so he filled our life with her pale imitations. He was brazen enough to bring them into our home, to tangle with them on the very couch I’d picked out for what I hoped would be our life together. When I caught him, he’d rest his head on my shoulder like a spoiled child, trying to charm his way out of it. That time, I slapped him. I shoved him away as he warned me, “It’s just a marriage, Ellie. Don’t get jealous.” But all I felt was a wave of relief. That was close. A second longer, and he would have seen the bite mark on my neck. 1. The sight of clothes strewn across the living room floor made my knees nearly give out. There, on the very couch I’d chosen with the naive hope of building a life with a man I loved, Richard was wrapped around a young woman. The angry red marks on her shoulders spoke volumes of my husband’s recent passion. Her eyes met mine, and in an instant, I understood. She was just like all the others—a ghost of his first love. She flushed, burrowing into Richard’s embrace. “Mrs. Thorne…” Richard just kissed her cheek. “Sweetheart, my wife’s home. Go get dressed upstairs.” The girl pouted, clearly reluctant, but gathered her clothes and went. I rubbed my temples. “I thought you were picking me up today. Why did you bring her here?” Richard pulled on his shirt with a lazy grace, his hands finding my temples and expertly massaging them. “The poor girl was just curious to see where I lived,” he murmured. “She’s so charming when she pouts, I couldn’t say no.” My heart stuttered. In four years, other women had tried to force their way into our home, and Richard had cut them loose without a second thought. The cloying, sweet scent in the air turned my stomach. “You promised you wouldn’t bring anyone home.” He nuzzled my shoulder, his voice a low, intimate purr. “She wore me down, Ellie. Besides, I sent Liam to get you. You know he’s the most dependable.” His chin brushed against my collar, and my heart leaped into my throat. My hand shot out on pure instinct, the slap cracking in the quiet room. Richard chuckled, a low, amused sound. “What’s this, Eleanor? A tantrum?” I pulled my collar tighter, my breath catching in my chest. He’d been so close to seeing the vivid, angry bite mark hidden just beneath the fabric. I thought of the man he called “dependable,” of how he had pinned my shoulders against the wall, his teeth sinking into my skin with desperate force. “I can’t wait anymore. When the hell are you going to divorce him?” I fought to keep my face cool and composed until Richard finally headed upstairs, the sounds of shameless flirtation soon echoing from the guest room. This was his punishment for my defiance. Early in our marriage, I would have screamed, I would have cried. He would have offered a few bored explanations before finding crueler, more inventive ways to remind me of my place. But now, I just remembered my answer to that desperate question, whispered in a haze of illicit passion. “Soon. I think it’s going to be very soon.” 2. My marriage to Richard was rotten from the start. His first love was from a poor family, and the Thornes had driven her out of Northwood City. Unable to defy them, Richard had agreed to an arranged marriage with me. The bitter truth was, I loved him. Years ago, my mother, citing my posture as ‘unladylike,’ had lashed my back with a riding crop and forbidden me from eating. At the gala we attended that night, I could barely stand. Richard, a complete stranger, was the only one who noticed. In a quiet corner, away from prying eyes, he slipped me a small tube of ointment and a pastry. “It’ll get better,” he’d whispered. So when he was proposed as my match, I was ecstatic. I thought I’d won. For the first two years, I poured every ounce of love I had into being the perfect Mrs. Thorne, believing that my devotion would eventually be returned. But in four years of marriage, every woman he sought out was a carbon copy of her. The illusion shattered a year ago, when I saw him eat the grapes his secretary peeled for him without a second thought. Richard was a notorious mysophobe; I’d once placed a stalk of asparagus in his bowl, and he’d thrown the entire thing out, bowl and all. In that moment, I felt like the world’s biggest fool. In a world of high-stakes mergers and cold transactions, I was the idiot chasing love. 3. I hadn’t expected Richard to get so attached to this particular girl. When I arrived at the party on his yacht at the racing club, he was lounging on a sofa, the girl, Mia, draped over him, playing the part of the queen. Richard’s best friend, Liam, was seething. “Have you completely forgotten you have a wife?” Richard didn’t even glance his way. “Even if my wife were here, she wouldn’t say a thing.” He smirked, his eyes finding me across the room. “Right, Ellie?” Heads turned. Liam instinctively moved as if to block my view of them. The night wind coming off the sea was cold, chilling my expression. “Mia, is it?” I said, my voice level. “Get off.” I’d noticed the swarm of media boats near the port on my way in. A playful smirk touched Richard’s lips, but his arm only tightened around Mia’s waist. I glanced out the window at the flotilla of speedboats, unable to tell which ones held paparazzi. “Richard. Either she goes, or I go.” His hand didn’t move. “Is that so? Well, if my wife insists… then you can go.” I pressed a hand to my chest, a familiar numbness spreading through me. I was about to say more when the unmistakable flash of a camera lit up the window. They’d gotten their shot. “Fine. Do whatever you want.” I turned and walked toward the deck, missing the way Richard’s face darkened as he abruptly stood, sending Mia tumbling to the floor. My phone buzzed. It was my assistant. I found a secluded corner to take the call. “Ms. Byrd, the final asset transfers are almost complete. No one has traced them back to us.” A genuine smile finally broke through my icy composure. “Excellent. Keep going.” The good news lifted my spirits, and I decided to take a stroll. But as I passed a dark corridor, a hand shot out and yanked me into a storage closet. The room was pitch-black, the moonlight unable to pierce the gloom. I felt warm lips press against my neck, and a voice, thick with hurt, murmured in my ear. “I won today. Why didn’t you come see me?” 4. I sagged against him, letting Liam hold me. “And let the media have another field day? ‘The Pathetic Mrs. Thorne, Still Groveling After Her Husband at a Race.’ No, thank you.” Everyone knew our marriage was a sham. Every time I showed up for one of Richard’s races, the tabloids had a feast. In the darkness, the man behind me went still. “I’m sorry.” Then, as if angered by his own apology, he spun me around, his mouth finding mine in the dark and crushing it with a desperate force. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he growled against my lips. “He humiliates you like that, and I don’t even have the right to be angry!” Overwhelmed, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing closer. “You’re right, I am humiliated,” I whispered. “Maybe giving me the Southport development project would cheer me up.” His mood didn’t lighten. A sharp pain bloomed on my lip. He’d bitten me. “I’m serious, Eleanor. Just divorce him. Please.” I traced the line of his jaw. “You don’t understand.” The air grew cold. After a long moment, Liam pushed me away. “Fine. Do what you want. But I’m done playing this little game of house, sneaking around in the shadows.” He threw the door open and was gone. I sighed, smoothing my hair before stepping back into the light. The party was now in full swing. In the center of the dance floor, Richard and Mia were locked in a sensual dance, their bodies grinding together as her lips brushed against his, once, twice, three times. I picked up a glass of champagne, thinking it was probably for the best. When the song ended, Richard spotted me. He walked over, smoothly took the glass from my hand, and drained it. I frowned but said nothing. “So, Ellie? What did you think? A good show?” I considered it. “Very beautiful.” They were a stunning pair, their movements more artful than sleazy. It was, objectively, easy on the eyes. Richard’s smile froze, then faded. “Is that so.” He was angry, though for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. And I was too tired to care. As the party broke up, his mood was still dark. The chauffeur was about to pull away when a figure darted out in front of the car. 5. Richard’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “I arranged for a car to take you home.” Mia stood her ground. “I sent him away. I’ve been drinking tonight, Richard. I want you to stay with me.” I leaned against the window, watching my husband navigate his affair with a detached curiosity. Richard’s brow furrowed. “Be good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go home.” Her lower lip trembled, her eyes welling with tears. “No. If you’re angry, then just tell the driver to run me over.” The breathtaking arrogance of someone who knows they are loved. Just as I expected, Richard’s expression softened. He turned to me. “Ellie, if you don’t want her in the car, I’ll send her away.” I opened my door. “It’s fine. It’s late and not safe. It’s normal for a young woman to want some attention.” I moved to the front seat. “You two take the back.” From behind me, I heard Richard laugh. “Well, if my wife doesn’t mind, get in.” But Mia didn’t move. Her eyes, shimmering with tears, were fixed on Richard. “But… I’m not used to sharing a car with another woman. I have… so many secrets I want to tell you.” Richard tapped my shoulder. “Ellie, you heard her.” I closed my eyes in weary resignation. “It’s one in the morning. She won’t find a cab out here.” Still, she stood there, a stubborn statue in the headlights. Richard got out and opened my door himself. “Get out. I thought you were supposed to be the understanding one.” I stood on the curb as Mia slid into the car, flashing me a triumphant smile. “Richard, I love your racing trophy. Can I play with it?” The car sped off, and I heard Richard’s voice drift back on the wind. “It’s not worth much. Play with it all you want.” A bitter laugh escaped me. Richard was intensely territorial. His possessions were sacred. Once, I had merely tried to dust one of his trophies, and he had screamed at me. The difference between being loved and not being loved was brutally clear. He loved his first love, and by extension, even her substitute was granted special privileges. The car disappeared, leaving me alone with the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The sea and sky blended into a single, dark expanse. I rubbed my arms against the chill, feeling utterly alone in the vastness of the world. Then, a jacket was thrown unceremoniously over my shoulders. “Still watching? What’s so fascinating about a scumbag like that? If you’re actually upset, I’ll lose all respect for you.” The scent of jealousy was thick in the air. I shook my head, blinking back the single tear that threatened to fall, and turned, burying my face in his chest. “I thought you were done with me.” 6. Liam’s cedarwood cologne enveloped me. “Don’t get cocky, Eleanor. I didn’t give in to you. I gave in to myself.” I got into his car. “Where to? Your place or mine?” he asked. I shook my head. “Home.” After the fiasco on the yacht, I knew the paparazzi photos would soon be everywhere. My life was about to get very complicated. Liam didn’t argue, but he drove the car further and further away from the city, until the lights and buildings vanished behind us. He parked on a deserted overlook, got out, and walked around to my side. He lifted me into his arms, settled back into the driver’s seat, and positioned me so I was straddling his lap. Our faces were an inch apart. His eyes burned into mine. “Eleanor, I’ve been your dirty little secret for a long time. Don’t you think I deserve a reward for being so easily placated?” I leaned in and gave him a soft, fleeting kiss. But he gripped my waist, pulling me tighter. “One day, Ellie,” he murmured against my mouth, “I’m going to kiss you in the daylight for the whole world to see.” The air in the car thickened with a heady, forbidden energy. As my senses began to swim, I managed to whisper, “Is that so? Then you’d better hurry up.” Steam slowly fogged the windows, blurring the world outside, and for a long time, there was only us. Later, Liam patiently dressed me and drove me home. But when he pulled up to my house, he couldn’t let me go. “I’ll hurry, Ellie. I promise.” I nodded, rewarding him with a soft kiss on his cheek. “Good. I’ll be waiting.” I never expected Richard to be home. After Mia’s performance tonight, I’d been sure he’d stay with her. But as I opened the door, there he was, sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “Why are you so late?” “I thought you’d know, since you abandoned me at the port,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s not easy to get a cab from there. I waited a long time.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He stood, about to say something. But then his gaze dropped to my mouth. The guilt vanished, replaced by a storm of pure rage that twisted his features into a terrifying mask. He lunged forward, his thumb pressing hard against my lips, smearing and rubbing until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. I realized then that my lips were swollen and bruised. “Eleanor,” he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Tell me. Who the hell are you cheating on me with?” 7. His fingers clamped around my jaw, the pressure excruciating. “I… don’t have a taste for affairs,” I choked out. “I just tripped and hit my mouth. Think about it, Richard. In all these years, after everything you’ve done, have I ever once been unfaithful to you?” I had guarded my secret with Liam meticulously. But Richard’s fury only grew. He dragged me into the bathroom and slammed me against the mirror. “Look at yourself, Eleanor! Look at the state you’re in!” “Tell me who he is!” he roared. “Who dares to make a fool of me? I’ll destroy him!” I shakily met my own reflection. My hair and clothes were perfectly neat. But my face was flushed with a lingering heat, and my lips were swollen to a bright, bee-stung red that my lipstick couldn’t conceal. I looked like a ripe peach, bruised and ready to burst. My mind raced. Finally, I let a slow, deliberate smile spread across my face. “You’re right. I went out and found someone. A male model from a club. He was attentive, and his words were so sweet.” “Why should you be the only one to have your fun, Richard?” I taunted. “Your Mias and your Chloes. Don’t I deserve a little entertainment of my own? It’s only fair.” The storm on his face unexpectedly cleared. He released my jaw, a look of twisted pleasure dawning in his eyes. “Ellie,” he breathed, almost delighted. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” I rubbed my aching jaw, my answer deliberately vague. “Does it matter?” His mood lifted instantly. He stroked my cheek, his voice softening. “Fine. I’ll get rid of Mia. That’s simple enough. But Eleanor, don’t you dare mess around outside this house. Your family is depending on you.” I lowered my gaze, hiding the cold triumph in my eyes. “Yes. I know.” Our marriage was, after all, a lifeline my family had begged for. 8. The next morning, as predicted, my phone blew up with entertainment alerts. They were all about Richard and Mia’s intimate night on the yacht. Then, the call I was expecting came. “Eleanor. Come home.” The moment I stepped into my father’s study, a heavy water glass flew at my head. It missed, shattering against the wall, but the message was clear. My mother stood by, a riding crop in her hand, her expression like ice. I knew that crop intimately. It was the author of the faint, silvery scars that would forever mar my back. “Eleanor, you’ve been married for years and you still can’t control your own husband. Your father is very disappointed.” A sharp pain lanced through my shoulder, a phantom echo of past punishments. By the time she was done, I was numb. My lips felt thick as I mumbled, “Is that enough? If you’re going to keep going, you should probably call an ambulance first.” The sound of the crop whipping through the air was the sound of the last, frayed thread of affection between us snapping. My mother stopped, as if waking from a trance. She dropped the crop and stared at my bleeding back, her face crumpling. “Oh, Ellie…” she sobbed, rushing forward. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’m just so scared… so scared of making your father angry.” She fumbled to apply ointment, her large, guilty tears splashing onto my raw skin. It was a jarring transformation from the merciless woman who had wielded the crop moments before. This was her pattern. My father was a philanderer; my illegitimate half-sister was only a year younger than me. He doted on his other family, showering them with affection. My mother and I only received his smiles when I excelled, when my achievements brought him glory. So, my mother learned her lesson. My success was her weapon to win back her husband’s favor. When I failed, she grew angry. And when she was angry, I was punished. After every beating, she would cry, apologize, and whisper how much she loved me, coddling me through the pain late into the night. With those tiny, rationed crumbs of love, she had controlled me for over twenty years. As a child, I would have said, “It doesn’t hurt, Mom. Please don’t cry. I’ll make Daddy proud.” But now, I pushed her hands away. I walked to the door and looked back at her, my voice formal and final. “Goodbye, Mother.”

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I’d been in love with Ian for ten years and never found the courage to tell him. Not until I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. So I tied him up and made him mine, over and over again. His eyes were bloodshot as he struggled against the ties. “Emma! If you’ve got any guts, you’ll let me go.” I thought if I did, he’d strangle me in a fit of rage. Instead, he took me, claiming every inch of me with a fierce hunger that burned day and night. “Emma,” he growled, his voice raw, “do I look weak to you? You actually drugged me?” 1 I’d been in love with Ian for a decade. From the time I was just a girl to the woman I am now. He lived in the mansion next door. I watched him transform from a lanky teenager into the man he is today, a man whose mature charm was so potent it left me dizzy. But I never dared to say a word. I was terrified that if I confessed and he rejected me, whatever fragile connection we had would shatter completely. Then, ten days ago, I collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital. The doctor’s face was etched with pity. “Late-stage glioblastoma. It’s too advanced. I’m so sorry, but treatment is no longer a viable option.” I couldn’t just die. Not yet. I hadn’t traveled the world. I hadn’t slept with Ian… My mind flashed to the dark romance novels I’d been reading, filled with possessive men and their obsessive love. I was dying. What was one little transgression in the grand scheme of things? So I called Ian and invited him over for dinner. As the CEO of Sterling Corporation, he was always busy. But he promised he’d come by later. When he arrived, he looked weary from his travels, a winter chill still clinging to his black overcoat. I realized then that he’d been overseas when I called. He had flown for a whole day, walking straight from the airport and into my trap. A pang of guilt hit me. I was about to make up an excuse to send him away, but he walked right past me to the dining table and sat down. Before I could say anything, he started helping himself. I watched, my heart pounding, as he took a spoonful of the spicy Thai soup I’d liberally ‘enhanced’. He glanced up at me, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Your cooking has improved.” Of course, it had. It was takeout from the best Thai restaurant in the city. Why takeout? Simple. I was afraid that if I cooked, it would taste so bad he wouldn’t eat enough for the drugs to work. I went to the kitchen to grab a bowl, and by the time I returned, his eyes were starting to glaze over. I bit my lip. “Are you tired? Do you want to rest for a bit?” He nodded. “A little dizzy.” “Then you should lie down.” We’d known each other for so many years that all the usual walls were down between us. He followed me to the guest room without a second thought. 2 Ian fell asleep almost instantly. I struggled to pull off his heavy coat, my eyes drawn to the hard planes of his body, hinted at beneath the thin fabric of his white shirt. My lips went dry. My pulse hammered against my ribs. But I couldn’t bring myself to unwrap him completely. Not yet. Instead, I went to my closet and pulled out the collection of silk ties I’d bought for him over the years but never had the nerve to give him. Tonight, they would finally serve their purpose. I used them to bind his hands and feet to the bedposts. When I was done, I collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, my strength gone. I looked up at his handsome face, so peaceful in sleep. I could already imagine the storm that would erupt when he woke up. The same volcanic fury he’d shown when his mother once casually suggested that we should just get married. I stared at him, not wanting to blink, trying to memorize every line and shadow. In a few days, I wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. I wanted to drink my fill. For more than twenty years, I’d been the good, selfless girl. For my final act, I was going to be selfish. Even if he hated me for it, it didn’t matter. That way, when I was gone, he wouldn’t feel a thing. His phone, still in his coat pocket, buzzed incessantly. It was Liam, his assistant. Without hesitating, and afraid the noise would wake him, I answered it. “Ian’s exhausted. He fell asleep right after dinner.” Liam, ever the professional, hung up without another word. Slowly, my own eyelids grew heavy. I climbed onto the bed, wrapped my arms around his waist, and let sleep pull me under. I was jolted awake in the middle of the night by Ian’s furious roar. “Emma!” I shot upright, the sudden movement making my head swim. The world went black for a second, and I tumbled back down, landing in his arms. “Emma! What the hell are you doing?” Doing? I propped myself up on my elbows, my vision still blurry as I looked at him. “Take a guess.” His expression darkened. I shifted, kneeling on the bed to look down at him. “Since you’re awake, let’s get down to business.” Ian’s brow furrowed, his powerful arms straining against the silk ties. A flicker of panic went through me. If he broke free, this whole desperate charade would be for nothing. Closing my eyes, I threw myself on top of him. “Don’t move! Just listen to me!” He gritted his teeth, his voice a low, hateful snarl. “Are you insane?” I lifted my head slightly, my face inches from his. “No, I’m not insane.” “Then what is this?” “I have you tied to my bed. What do you think I want to do?” His pupils constricted, the disgust on his face impossible to hide. “Emma! It’s me, Ian!” he seethed. “Have you lost all sense of decency?” I didn’t want to hear his accusations. My hand shot out to the nightstand, grabbing the first soft thing I could find—a stray sock—and stuffed it into his mouth. Ignoring the fire in his eyes, I stared him down. “Shut up!” He struggled again, but the ties held firm. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs. “I’m going to kiss you,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Don’t you dare interrupt me.” I pulled the sock from his mouth, and before he could speak, I closed my eyes and crashed my lips against his. My clumsy fingers fumbled with his shirt, sending buttons scattering across the floor. I was like a survivor clinging to the last piece of driftwood in a storm, desperate for an escape, for a release. All the pent-up emotion, all the years of silent longing, I poured them out onto his skin, my mouth finding every inch of him as he let out muffled, guttural groans. My friend Lucy once told me that in bed, a man thinks with only one part of his body. She was right. As my movements grew bolder, more desperate, Ian stopped trying to curse me. The only sounds from him now were those deep, continuous groans. When it was over, his face was flushed, a look of profound humiliation in his eyes. I couldn’t stand to see it. I threw on my clothes and headed for the bathroom. As I was about to leave, his voice, raw and strained, stopped me. “Emma!” I turned. “What?” His eyes were red with fury. “If you’ve got any guts, you’ll let me go.” I froze for a second, then a bitter, careless smile touched my lips. “Oh, I’ll let you go,” I said. “Just not yet.” 3 After my shower, I had intended to go back to my own room. But the memory of Ian’s abs, rock-solid beneath my touch, pulled me back. I returned to the guest room. He was still awake, staring at the ceiling like a frog about to be dissected. The moment I walked in, he started again, his voice laced with venom. “Untie me!” I shook my head. “No.” “Have you no shame?” “What do you possibly gain from doing this?” “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to have some self-respect?” He knew that would hit a nerve. He was being deliberately cruel. My lips pressed into a thin line. I said nothing, just walked silently to the bed. I kicked off my slippers, climbed onto the mattress, and straddled him. He scowled, about to launch into another tirade, but I covered his mouth with my hand. “You shut up and listen to me,” I said, my voice low. “I’ve known you for eleven years, and I’ve loved you for ten. I’ve tried to give up, but I can’t. I’m not willing to.” “I know you don’t like me. They say the one who loves is the one who has to be brave, so I’m being brave.” “I’m going to have you. And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me!” With that, my eyes burning with unshed tears, I leaned down and kissed him again. Ian’s lips were thin and cool, with a faint taste of mint. I was already exhausted, but I could feel a distinct change in him, a response he couldn’t hide. I pulled back and looked at his face, a triumphant, wicked smile spreading across mine. “Still pretending to be the cool, untouchable CEO? You’re not so different from any other man, are you?” Throughout it all, the sounds Ian made left my face burning, but filled me with a deep, forbidden satisfaction. The next time I opened my eyes, Ian was already awake. To my relief, his expression wasn’t one of pure, violated humiliation anymore. When he saw me stir, he spoke, his voice hoarse. “Untie me.” “No.” He let out a sigh of exasperation and switched tactics. “Emma, what’s gotten into you? How long are you planning on keeping me here?” I counted on my fingers and then held up a number. “Seven days.” Ian was speechless. “Why are you doing this?” “No reason,” I said calmly, pulling on a robe as I got out of bed. “I just decided I’m going to spend seven days with you.” I expected him to explode, but instead, a dark, humorless smile twisted his lips. “This is illegal confinement, Emma. You know how much I have to do every day, how many people need to reach me. If I just vanish, do you really think you can keep me here for a week?” I stood frozen beside the bed. He was right. He was a grown man. If he truly resisted, how long could I possibly hold him? “Emma, let me go. I promise I won’t leave.” I stared at him for a few seconds, then stubbornly shook my head. “I don’t believe you.” “Emma, I have extremely important work to do. You can stay by my side, but you have to let me out of here.” He thought he’d offered a compromise I couldn’t refuse. But I rejected it without a second thought. “Until the police break down my door,” I said, my voice unyielding, “you’re staying right here.” Ian knew it was useless. His dark eyes scanned me from head to toe, a long, searching look. Then, to my utter shock, he relented. “If you keep me tied up like this for seven days, my hands and feet will be useless. Is that what you want?” “No.” “But I have no other choice. I can’t overpower you, and I can’t stop you from leaving. I’m sorry to have to do this to you.” “Emma,” he said, his voice deadly serious now. “I swear on my grandmother’s memory, I will not leave this house for seven days.” Ian’s grandmother. I knew how much she meant to him. I knew how genuinely kind she had been to me. When she passed away, Ian and I had huddled in a corner together, crying our eyes out. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. “You need me to cooperate,” he continued, his tone reasonable. “Otherwise, it’s very likely your door will be broken down by this afternoon.” His voice was sincere. I knew he was telling the truth. The CEO of Sterling Corporation goes missing? It would be a major news story. I wanted to keep him here, but I didn’t want to die with a criminal record. I could already imagine the sleazy, sensational headlines the media would write. I gave in. I tossed his clothes to him and then, one by one, untied the knots. He gritted his teeth as he flexed his stiff hands, his voice dripping with scorn. “I never realized you were such a psycho.” My face was a mask. “There’s a lot you’ve never realized.” His eyes fell on the chaotic pile of silk ties on the floor. He looked back at me, incredulous. “Where did you get so many of these?” “I’d see one I thought would look good on you, and I’d buy it. Before I knew it, I had a whole collection.” At least they hadn’t gone to waste. They’d finally been used on him, after all. “Why didn’t you ever give them to me?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “I’m not in the habit of throwing myself at someone who gives me the cold shoulder.” Ian’s expression turned cold. “So you decided to just take what you wanted by force?” A hot blush spread from my face all the way down to my toes. In the heat of my madness, I hadn’t cared about the consequences. But hearing him say it out loud, I was suddenly flooded with shame. To get a man, I had to resort to tying him up. But the feeling passed quickly. I told myself it was worth it. At least I’d done something this crazy once in my life. 4 Ian was true to his word. Once I freed him, he didn’t try to force his way out. He just asked for my laptop. “Are you going to email Liam for help?” He gave me a look you’d give a complete idiot. “Are you dense? If I wanted to leave, would I need to call someone?” It wasn’t that I was dense. It was that my brain was literally failing me. I gave him the computer. I’d already quit my job, so it was no use to me. Ian sat on the balcony, dealing with work, while I curled up on the living room sofa and just watched him. The sunlight streamed in at a perfect angle, creating a fleeting illusion of domestic bliss. An illusion I had stolen. The afternoon sun was bright, and as I watched him, a wave of drowsiness washed over me. I fought to stay awake, but my consciousness slipped away. When I opened my eyes again, Ian was gone. I shot up, my bare feet cold against the floor as I frantically searched the apartment. My heart was in my throat until I threw open the bathroom door. It dropped back into my chest, but the moment I saw him, my sanity checked out. I launched myself at him. I had no technique, only a desperate need to leave my mark, my mouth hungry and wild. A frantic deer was trapped in my chest, crashing against my ribs. I clung to him like an octopus, terrified he would push me away. Through the haze, I heard Ian let out a resigned sigh. Then, a strong arm wrapped around me, lifting me up. “You’re a maniac,” he murmured against my skin. “But I like it.” Like what? Before I could process it, his teeth grazed my neck, and suddenly, the tables had turned. I was beginning to believe what Lucy had told me. For men, loving and doing are two completely different things. Afterward, as the heady lust faded, Ian leaned against the headboard and studied me. “Emma, I’m seriously starting to wonder if you’ve been possessed by some kind of demon.” After all the years we’d known each other, it wasn’t strange for him to be suspicious. I was acting completely out of character. “You’re right,” I said, nodding seriously. “A succubus.” Ian’s eyes narrowed. “And why didn’t this succubus go after someone else?” I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Probably because you were the easiest target around.” I picked up my phone to order food, but Ian’s hand shot out and stopped me. “What? You lure me here with a home-cooked meal, have your way with me, and now you’re just going to fob me off with takeout?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. Half an hour later, the delivery driver knocked on the door. Ian watched as I took the yellow paper bag, his pupils contracting sharply. When I pulled out a small, square box of pills from inside, he finally snapped. He lunged forward, his fingers clamping around my chin. “Emma! What the hell are you doing? You’re taking that?” “What,” I said, the word a struggle, “did you want me to give you an heir to the Sterling fortune?” Rage contorted his features, his whole body radiating fury. His grip tightened. “You have the audacity to do all this, but you’re afraid of having a baby?” “You’re hurting me!” I wrenched myself free from his grasp, knowing I had truly pushed him too far. So I concocted a plausible lie. “Of course I’d want to have your baby. It’s just… I suddenly remembered I took a bunch of antibiotics for a cold a few days ago.” I frowned, looking at him. “What? Did you want me to have a child just to blackmail you with it?” Ian looked away, his voice icy. “In your dreams, you greedy, insatiable woman.” “Ian, you’re never like this with me! Yes, I forced you, but if you truly didn’t want it, I couldn’t have forced you!” He was furious. I thought he would storm out right then and there. But he just slammed the guest room door with a deafening bang. Huh. A man of his word. It almost made me feel guilty.

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I’ve always been a bit slow on the uptake. So when my biological parents finally brought me home, and the girl who had taken my place, Lila, rushed to greet me with a syrupy smile, I didn’t quite get it. “Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed, her eyes wide with fake sympathy. “You must have suffered so much. Why don’t you take my room? It’s the biggest one.” My parents gazed at Lila, their eyes filled with admiration for her generosity. I, on the other hand, started nodding frantically. “Okay! Great! I love big rooms. I’ll help you move.” The moment the words left my mouth, the entire room went silent. Lila’s expression was unreadable, a shadow passing over her face. 1 The moment I stepped into my real family’s home, Lila, the imposter daughter, was there with a welcoming smile, eager to give me a tour. “This is my bedroom,” she announced, gesturing grandly. “And this is my study, and that’s my music room. And over there is my brother’s room.” She paused, feigning disappointment. “Oh, dear. It seems the only space left is the little storage closet.” She glanced over at our parents. My mother wrung her hands. “Stella, dear, the house is a little crowded right now, maybe you could just…” Lila cut her off, her voice ringing with false magnanimity. “Stella, you’ve had it so hard all these years. Please, take my room. It’s the least I can do.” At her words, my parents beamed at her, their pride obvious. My own eyes lit up. I nodded so hard my head bobbed. “Okay! Great! I’d love the big room. Here, I’ll help you pack.” The air went still. Everyone just stared. A flicker of something dark crossed Lila’s face before she smoothed it away. I dropped my backpack and suitcase and immediately started gathering her things. Lila’s eyes welled up with tears as she turned to our parents, her voice trembling. “Mom, won’t she be scared, all alone in a room that big?” My mother, catching her drift, hurried over and grabbed my arm. “Stella, there are plenty of other rooms. Why don’t you pick a different one?” I stopped what I was doing and turned to face them. “But you said the only thing left was the storage closet.” I looked at Lila, my head tilted. “Wait… does this mean you don’t want me to have the room after all?” Both of our parents’ heads snapped towards Lila. A blush crept up her neck, and she frowned, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit her generosity was a sham. “No, I… that’s not what I meant,” she stammered. A wide smile spread across my face, revealing two dimples. “Mom, she already offered. She can’t take it back now. Could you please move? You’re in my way.” Lila stood frozen in the doorway, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Seeing her cry, my mother’s own eyes started to redden with sympathy. I didn’t pay them any mind. I just rolled up my sleeves and got back to work. In no time at all, I had all her things packed up. I pointed to the tiny closet at the end of the hall. “So, are your things going in there?” Lila gritted her teeth, shot me a venomous glare, and stormed downstairs without a word. I couldn’t figure out why she was so upset. But I’ve always been a helpful person, so I moved all of her belongings into the storage closet for her. Later that evening, my brother, Leo, came home. The second she saw him, Lila threw herself into his arms and burst into sobs. “Leo, she took my room! She just… she took it!” His brow furrowed instantly. He looked over at me, his eyes filled with murder. 2 Seeing Leo, I stood up and politely greeted him. “Hello, brother.” His face was a mask of ice. “I only have one sister, and it’s Lila. Don’t call me that.” My eyes widened in shock. “Oh? Are you not their real son either?” Leo stared at me for a second, then his face twisted with rage. “Stella, what the hell are you talking about?” “Don’t think for a second that just because you share their blood, you can replace Lila. Blood doesn’t make you family.” Lila peeked up at him, a triumphant little smile on her face. “Oh, Leo. You’re the only one who really cares about me.” I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s true. Her biological father was executed, so he can’t exactly be family anymore. And her mom’s in prison, but I guess she has a chance if she ever gets out.” As soon as I said it, both Lila and Leo froze. Lila’s face went deathly pale. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed into Leo’s arms. “Lila!” Leo’s shout echoed through the house. I rushed over and started patting Lila’s cheeks, trying to find a pressure point to revive her, but nothing worked. My parents came running down the stairs. “What happened to Lila?” Leo, cradling her in his arms, shot me a look of pure hatred and shoved me to the ground. “This is all Stella’s fault. If anything happens to Lila, I’ll never forgive you.” He then stormed out the door with her in his arms. My parents glared at me. “Stella,” my father demanded, “what happened? Why did she just faint like that?” I looked down, my face a picture of guilt. “I’m sorry. I mentioned her biological father who was executed and her mother who’s in prison. I think she fainted from missing them so much.” My mother looked at me in horror, stumbling back until she collapsed onto the sofa. Tears began to fall. “You… how could you say those things to her?” I blinked, confused. “What? Are you not supposed to talk about it?” 3 By the time we got to the hospital, Lila was already awake, crying dramatically in her hospital bed as Leo held her. “Don’t be silly,” he was saying, stroking her hair. “You’re my real sister. Stella is just some orphan they dragged back from the countryside. As soon as she’s eighteen, I’ll have Mom and Dad send her away.” Lila looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. “Really, Leo?” He smiled. “When have I ever lied to you?” The moment she saw us, Lila scrambled out of bed and fell to her knees in front of me. “Stella, I’m so sorry! I never knew my birth parents were the ones who hurt you! I’m so, so sorry. Please, just hit me!” With that, she grabbed my hand and slapped it against her own face. Leo’s furious shout ripped through the air. “Stella, what are you doing?!” I just stood there, my mind a complete blank. All I could see was Lila’s mother. Martha. Martha used to do the exact same thing. I was a child, and if I drank a whole bowl of porridge, she would grab my hand and force me to hit her with it. “You ate all that? Are you trying to starve me to death? Go on, just kill me now!” The second my small hand touched her cheek, she would fly into a rage, screaming. “I feed you, and this is how you repay me? You worthless little stray!” Then she’d grab a bamboo cane and beat me until I passed out. If I ever displeased her, it was the same routine: she’d make me hit her, and then she’d beat me senseless. I was covered in bruises every single day. A teacher reported her to the police once. That just made the beating I got when I came home even worse. It wasn’t until the police came from another state that I learned the truth: I wasn’t her daughter at all. She was arrested, but she never told them where she’d stolen me from. The police had no choice but to put me in an orphanage. Now, in the hospital room, Lila was sobbing, forcing my hand against her face. “Hit me! Just kill me! It’s all my fault!” I snapped. I grabbed her by the hair, and in a blind rage, I started slapping her, again and again. For all those years, all I had ever wanted was to kill Martha. But she was in prison. Lila’s screams filled the hospital corridor. My parents and Leo rushed to pull me off her, but I was surprisingly strong. No one could stop me. I didn’t stop until her face was swollen and purple. Then, the world went dark, and I fainted. As I was coming to, I vaguely heard a doctor’s voice. “Stella is suffering from Severe Emotional Detachment Disorder. She can’t handle being provoked like that. Were you aware of this?” “Doctor, what is that?” “It’s a psychological injury caused by long-term exposure to a hostile environment and severe trauma.” “But… she seems so cheerful all the time.” The doctor sighed heavily. “That’s what makes it so dangerous.” My parents were silent. My brother stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “I knew she was faking it. Mental illness is just an excuse. I only trust science. She’s probably just making it up to get rid of Lila. Don’t fall for it.” With that, he turned and left. 4 I was woken by a gentle voice. “Stella, sweetie, wake up and have something to eat.” My mother was sitting by my bed, her eyes holding an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. The bowl of porridge she offered me made my stomach churn. But I was starving. I took it and slurped down half of it before placing it back on the nightstand. “Are you full already?” I shook my head. “No. Martha never let me finish a whole bowl. I’d get beaten otherwise.” My mother looked at the half-eaten porridge, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Stella. You’ve suffered so much.” I just smiled and shook my head. “It’s okay! It was no big deal, really.” The moment we got home, Leo blocked my path. “Stella, Lila is a simple, kind-hearted person. I want you to stay away from her. Don’t cause any more trouble.” He paused. “If you do that, I can try to accept you as my sister.” My mother’s face hardened. “Leo, how dare you speak to your sister like that. Lila was in the wrong here too. She provoked Stella.” My father chimed in. “What happened yesterday is in the past. From now on, you will treat your real sister with respect. Do you understand?” Seeing my parents defending me, Leo clenched his jaw, his eyes burning with resentment. But I just smiled cheerfully. “Okay! How far away? Is three feet enough?” My parents looked at me, their faces etched with guilt. “Stella, you don’t have to…” Leo muttered under his breath, “Let’s see how long you can keep up this act,” before stalking away. At dinner, Lila and I met at the table. She looked at me timidly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Leo stood beside her, guarding her as if I were a wolf. I quietly picked up my plate and, under everyone’s watchful eyes, sat down at the far end of the long dining table, maintaining my distance from Lila. The housekeeper came over. “Miss, can you reach the food from here?” I smiled. “Nope.” Everyone froze, unsure whether to eat or not. 5 My mother stood up and walked over to me. “Stella, dear, won’t you come sit closer?” My father put down his chopsticks. “Stella, come here and eat properly.” I looked up, glanced at Lila, and said earnestly, “But Leo told me to stay away from her. I can’t.” Lila’s face fell, her expression a mask of pure anguish. “It’s all my fault. I’ll go. Then Stella can eat.” She made a show of getting up. She looked around, but neither of our parents tried to stop her. She shot me a hateful glare and stormed off. I immediately grinned, picked up my plate, and moved to her empty seat. “She’s gone! I can eat up here now.” Leo shot to his feet, his face dark with fury. He strode over and slapped the plate out of my hands. “You drove Lila away. Are you happy now? Does your return mean she doesn’t even get to eat in this house anymore?” I watched as the perfectly cooked grains of rice scattered across the floor. Tears sprang to my eyes. “You can’t waste food! If you waste food, they feed you to the dogs!” When I was seven, I accidentally spilled a bowl of thin rice gruel. Martha made me lick it off the dirty floor. I was terrified, but I did it, cutting my tongue on a piece of broken ceramic. The taste of blood filled my mouth. For a second, I felt a strange thrill, wondering if this was how I would finally die. But I didn’t. Martha then dragged me to the village dog keeper’s yard and threw me into a kennel with a pack of vicious dogs. They tore at me, leaving me bloody and mangled. The family only saved me when they heard my screams. When they brought me back, Martha was cracking sunflower seeds, barely glancing at me. “Still not dead, huh? Just a little punishment to teach her not to waste food.” … Now, I scrambled on the floor, trying to scoop the rice back into my hands, ignoring the sharp fragments of the plate that cut into my palms. The metallic tang of blood was on my tongue again. It was a taste that was both terrifying and strangely comforting. My mother ran to me, her eyes red, and pulled me into a hug. “Stella, no, it’s on the floor. Don’t eat it, please don’t eat it…” Leo stared at me, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Stella, you…” My father walked over and slapped him hard across the face. “Stella is your sister. Apologize to her. Now.” Leo’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

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I went back to the day he confessed to me. He was lounging on the sofa, one leg casually crossed over the other, a newly lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. His gaze swept lazily across the room before landing on the figure huddled in the corner. “Her, then.” In the sudden silence, his voice was pitched just right—not too loud, not too soft—and dripping with casual indifference. “Hey. I like you.” And just like that, I was back in that moment. 1. The private lounge was a chaotic blur of noise and flashing lights, the air thick with the cloying mix of smoke and spilled liquor. “Alright, everyone, quiet down! Time for Jason’s dare!” A buzz-cut guy from the card table stood up, holding a card aloft. He read from it dramatically, “Find any woman in this room…” He paused, his voice climbing with excitement, “and confess your love to her!” “Damn, Jason only lost one round and the dare is this intense?” “But his actual target isn’t even here. Who’s he supposed to confess to?” A murmur rippled through the room. Amidst the chaos, the boy on the sofa remained the sole point of stillness, leaning back with a lazy grace and lighting a cigarette as if he were the only one there. “Jason, shouldn’t you wait for Lana…” He lifted his gaze just slightly, and the room fell silent. The jokes, the whispers, the arguments—all of it evaporated. It was as if he couldn’t even be bothered to fully open his eyes. His gaze drifted for a second before settling, with deliberate carelessness, on the darkest corner of the room. “Her, then.” He tilted his chin, his voice a familiar, lazy drawl that was laced with a flippant sort of cruelty. “Hey. I like you.” I was back. 2. At eighteen, Jason was all sharp angles and defiant eyes. Every move he made radiated a kind of reckless charm. Our eyes met across the dimly lit room, and in that instant, mine filled with tears. “Jason, man, I don’t know about this…” No one had expected him to end the game so quickly, so carelessly. And no one had expected him to choose me as the “lucky” one. The guy with the buzz cut, Finn, lowered his voice. “Dude, that’s Lana’s sister. It’s not cool.” Tonight was Lana Monroe’s eighteenth birthday party. Everyone at Crestwood High knew she was in love with Jason. The whole night had been building towards their big moment; everyone assumed he’d use the dare to finally ask her out. No one saw this coming. Finn glanced at me and saw the tears welling in my eyes. He flinched. “She’s a good kid… Look, you made her cry.” Jason had already looked away, the cigarette halfway to his lips. At Finn’s words, he froze, his gaze snapping back to me. A slight frown creased his brow, and the air around him grew colder, as if my inability to take a joke had personally offended him. The silence stretched. Finn was scratching his head, about to try and smooth things over, when I finally found my voice, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Say it again.” I stared straight at him, my tone unwavering, though my voice trembled. “I didn’t hear you. Say it again.” 3. At seventeen, I was a walking bundle of insecurities—shy, sensitive, and a loner, but with a fierce, fragile pride. I was the kind of girl who could disappear into a crowd. But because my sister was Lana, I was always being watched. The Monroes were real estate tycoons in Crestwood. Lana was my opposite in every way: stunningly beautiful, effortlessly charming, born for the spotlight. I was their adopted daughter, brought in to be her playmate. Lana had a wide circle of friends and loved to party, and she always dragged me along. To everyone else, I was just Lana’s shadow. She was always telling me to lighten up, to make some friends, but she never understood how much I hated those scenes. My quiet awkwardness only served to highlight her dazzling confidence. On her eighteenth birthday, I did what I always did: I found a dark corner and tried to become invisible, praying for the night to end. Until Jason looked at me. 4. I knew who Jason was. I knew all of Lana’s friends. He smoked, he drank, he cut class, he partied… he was the biggest degenerate of them all. A single, lazy glance from him was enough to make girls swoon. He treated affection like a game, thoughtless and cruel, embodying every single trait I despised in teenage boys. Someone like me, crippled by insecurity, could only burn with a silent, helpless rage. I was so focused on my own humiliation that I didn’t notice the cigarette slip from his fingers and fall to the floor. Back then, I hated Jason. But now, I wanted a fresh start with him. 5. If Jason confessing to me was a shock, me demanding he do it again was an earthquake. Who dared to speak to Jason with that kind of command in their voice? Especially me, the girl who barely spoke at all. An awkward silence fell over the room, broken only when the door swung open. A collective sigh of relief went through the crowd. It was Lana, back from schmoozing in the next lounge. “Well, well, why the sudden silence?” she asked, her red lips curved into a smile as she sauntered toward the card table in her high heels. “What are you guys playing?” Finn, still holding the dare card, quickly handed it to her. “Lana, you’re back just in time! I lost again, and I was trying to figure out which girl to hit on for my dare.” He made a goofy heart shape with his hands. “Lana, I love you!” The room erupted in laughter and jeers, the tension finally breaking. “Sorry, sweetie, but I’ve already got my eye on someone,” Lana said, her smile bright and confident as she walked over to Jason. “Jason. Be my boyfriend.” He had already looked away before she even reached him. His eyes were downcast as he stubbed out the untouched cigarette in the ashtray. His voice, stripped of its usual laziness, was low and deep. “Not interested.” 6. “Oh, well. Let me know when you are.” Lana just shrugged, completely unfazed by the stares, and rallied everyone to start another game. The room filled with noise again. I took one last, long look at Jason and slipped out of the lounge unnoticed. Outside, the street was a river of traffic and neon lights. I stood under the bus stop sign, lost in thought. In my past life, Jason and I had crossed paths a few times. We ended up at the same university, in different programs. He always seemed to show up right when I needed help, but I just assumed he was doing it as a favor to my sister and tried to avoid him. He grew up a lot over those years, and I eventually shed some of my insecurities. There were moments when I wondered… but after that night, he never once told me he liked me. Not even at the end, when he lay bleeding out to save me, all he could manage was a weak smile. “Don’t cry…” I was lost in the memory when a shadow fell over me. “Can’t the good girl take a joke?” It was Jason, a cocky smirk on his face. I looked up, and the smirk vanished. “You’re… crying?” I blinked, tears streaming down my face. For a second, eighteen-year-old Jason blurred with the twenty-two-year-old version. His voice softened, a hint of panic in it. “Don’t cry…” 7. The eighteen-year-old Jason didn’t know how to comfort anyone. His voice was softer, but his face was tense, his eyes dark and stormy. When my tears kept falling, he kicked the bus stop sign in frustration. The sudden noise startled me, and I stopped crying, staring at him in shock. Jason glared at me for a second, then turned his back, shoving his hands in his pockets. His entire posture radiated a tense, frustrated energy. He looked genuinely menacing. “So you think I took advantage of you?” he snapped, his voice rough with irritation. “Fine. I’ll let you get me back. What are you crying for?” I stared at his back, dazed. “How?” I asked quietly. A long moment passed before his voice came back, feigning nonchalance. “…How about you confess to me to make it even?” 8. The night breeze felt cold as it swirled in the space between us. I was silent. I could feel the tension in his rigid back, and my heart ached. I forced a small laugh, changing the subject. “Do you have a tissue?” I tried to wipe my face, but my hands were slick with tears. I was shocked at what a mess I was. I was about to use my sleeve when a pair of hands cupped my face, their warmth startling. Jason leaned in close, the rough pads of his thumbs gently brushing away my tears. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Tissues are dirty,” he mumbled, as if that explained everything. I stared at him, at his completely serious expression, and found it oddly amusing. I sniffled. “You smell like smoke,” I said, my own attempt at deflection. His hands stilled. He curled his fingers slightly, and when he continued, his touch was impossibly gentle, a delicate dance between tenderness and caution. He lifted his gaze just enough to meet mine, his voice dropping to a husky rasp. “You like guys who don’t smoke?” From my upturned angle, I could see the streetlight reflecting in his pupils, tiny fragments of light that burned straight through me. This time, it was my turn to look away. I didn’t know… I didn’t know if the Jason of four years from now still smoked. I didn’t know why he had been so good to me. I didn’t know when he had started to like me… I knew nothing about him. My entire understanding of Jason was built on a foundation of prejudice. 9. Jason took me home that night. I had a dream, a memory from my freshman year of college. I was taking a bus from campus to the suburbs. Just as the doors were closing, Jason appeared out of nowhere and squeezed on. The bus was packed. I was clinging to a pole, trying to make myself as small as possible. The bus lurched to a stop, and the person in front of me stumbled back, sending me falling backward… Directly into Jason’s chest. Looking up and seeing his face, I panicked more than if I’d hit the floor. “S-sorry.” I tried to pull away, but he reached out, gripping the seats on either side of me and trapping me in a cage of his arms. He leaned down. “That scared of me?” I said nothing, just turned my head away. He straightened up. “Where are you headed?” I mumbled my answer, my eyes on the floor. “Out of the city.” I was running an errand for a professor, fact-checking an article with an interviewee. “You want to be a journalist?” I was surprised he knew. “Yeah.” I thought I heard him chuckle. “A quiet journalist is kind of an oxymoron, don’t you think?” I didn’t answer. I took it as a slight, another black mark against his name in my mental ledger. When I got off the bus, I glanced back. The bus wasn’t crowded anymore, but he was still standing in the same spot, staring at me through the window. His gaze was so intense it scared me. I turned and walked away as fast as I could. 10. I never wondered where Jason had been going that day. I never questioned why a guy who drove a Porsche to campus was riding a city bus. But last night, sitting on that bus, I asked him directly, “Do you know my name?” “Maya.” “Yeah,” I said, my voice tinged with self-deprecating humor. “Maya. As in, ‘Maybe I’m not wanted.’” “Just a friendly tip,” I continued, the words feeling reckless, “next time you confess to someone, you should probably use their name. ‘Hey’ isn’t very sincere.” My palms were sweating. I didn’t dare look at him. I just leaned my head against the cool glass of the window and pretended to sleep. I was twenty-one now, I told myself. I wasn’t that timid, insecure girl anymore. I was still quiet, but I had found my voice in my work, becoming a promising young journalist before I even graduated. I had investigated countless stories, always searching for the objective truth. And now, my subject was Jason. I must have drifted off for real, but I was awake when he gently lifted my head and rested it on his shoulder. I heard his voice, a soft murmur from just above me. “It’s for ‘the rest of my life.’” 11. As the first semester of senior year drew to a close, Jason was still cutting class like it was his job. I waited for days, but I never saw him at school. I did, however, hear the rumors. Jason had brutally rejected some girl who confessed to him, practically knocking her over. Jason had dropped a fortune at some downtown bar, spending an absurd amount in one night. Jason this, Jason that… It was always the same old stories, the same ones that had fueled my prejudice against him before. “I just saw Jason in the alley behind the school,” someone whispered. “He’s with that crew from the vocational school… I think they’re about to fight.” I froze, then grabbed my backpack and bolted for the exit. By the time I reached the alley, Jason was just landing a clean punch, knocking the other crew’s leader to the ground. He calmly stepped back as the two groups descended into a chaotic brawl. He leaned against the brick wall, his hand slipping into his pocket as if to pull something out, then stopping. I suspected he was reaching for a cigarette but changed his mind. Perhaps because that was the moment he looked up and saw me standing at the mouth of the alley. 12. We stared at each other for a few seconds. Then, he turned and started walking down a side path. Without thinking, I ran after him. “Jason!” At the sound of my voice, he stiffened but walked even faster. I picked up my pace, panicked, and promptly tripped over my own feet. I was about to eat dirt when a strong pair of arms caught me, and I slammed into his chest with enough force to make him grunt. I looked up. We spoke at the same time. “Why are you running?” “…” I untangled myself from his arms. “I heard you were fighting, so I came to see.” “Nothing to see here.” I tilted my head. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you like this. It’s…” I paused, meeting his gaze, which was a mixture of anxiety and feigned indifference. I smiled. “It’s actually kind of cool.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward. He quickly looked away, clearing his throat. “Hmph.” “But Jason,” I asked, my voice sincere, “don’t you have classes to attend?” “…” By the time Jason’s friends finished their fight and found us, I was pressing a thick stack of notebooks into his hands. I looked at him with the gravity of someone entrusting their last will and testament. “Jason, these are my notes for every subject. Take them and study hard, okay?” His hand, clutching the notebooks, was so tight his knuckles were white. His face cycled through shades of red and pale. His friends, peeking around the corner, quickly ducked back. “Dude,” one of them whispered loudly, “you can’t hit a girl!” I saw his eyelid twitch. “It took me three all-nighters to make these,” I added. He forced the word through gritted teeth. “…Fine.” 13. I pressed my advantage, inviting him to study with me at the library the next evening. He agreed, probably out of sheer resignation. The next day, I checked to make sure he was actually at school. Satisfied, I packed a few extra practice exams to bring to the library. He hadn’t arrived yet, but I ran into my deskmate, Mike. Mike was the class genius. He was always number one; I was always number two. He was quiet and studious, just like me. People used to gossip that we were a couple of nerds made for each other. He was one of the only classmates I ever really talked to, mostly about difficult homework problems. “Maya,” he called out. I walked over. He pointed to a reading comprehension passage on an English test. My English was better than his, and I was grateful for all the times he’d helped me with physics, so I sat down next to him and explained it. The passage was about high school romance. After we finished, Mike suddenly asked, “What do you think about dating in high school?” “I’ve never really thought about it.” “People say if you don’t date in high school, it’s harder to find someone later… Are you waiting for college?” “Yeah. I’ll think about it in college.” “Are you applying to Avington University?” “Yeah.” Mike smiled. “I’m applying there too.” “Good luck,” I said earnestly. As the words left my mouth, I froze. This exact scene, this exact conversation… it had happened in my past life. Back then, after I’d spoken, I had looked up and seen Jason standing by a nearby bookshelf, watching me with an unreadable expression. Not long after that, rumors started flying that Jason had suddenly started studying, his grades skyrocketing. I felt like I was grasping something important. I whipped my head up. Jason was leaning against the bookshelf, his gaze even darker and more inscrutable than I remembered. Before I could decipher his expression, he turned and walked away.

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