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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My mother-in-law was dangling from the rooftop of a 28-story building. My wife, Seraphina, the best sharpshooter on the force, had a hundred percent chance of taking out the kidnapper with a single shot. But the new intern, Hunter, looked at her with pleading eyes. He said it was his first time facing a life-or-death situation and he wanted to find the courage to take the shot. Seraphina handed him her rifle. The shot rang out. The bullet went wide. The rope snapped. My mother-in-law’s body plummeted, hitting the pavement with a sickening, final thud. Seraphina wrapped her arms around Hunter, comforting him softly. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have let you.” She didn’t even glance down at the street below. Only after she had calmed Hunter down did she finally walk over to me. “Liam, honey, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save your mom.” I froze. My mom? But my mom was at home right now, cooking my favorite soup, waiting for me to come home. 1. Behind the police tape, I stared at the crimson stain on the asphalt, my mind a complete blank. Only after she had thoroughly soothed Hunter did Seraphina finally remember I was there. “Liam, honey, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save your mom.” There was no grief in her voice, no pain in her eyes. Only a hollow sense of duty, and a palpable wave of relief. I remained rooted to the spot. My mom? My mom should be at home right now, wearing her apron, simmering the fish-head and tofu soup I loved, waiting for me to get back from work. That warm, comforting image clashed with the cold, bloody scene before me in the most grotesque way imaginable. Hunter peeked out from Seraphina’s embrace, looking at me with timid eyes. “Liam… don’t blame the Captain. It’s all my fault… I was just so desperate to prove myself…” Before he could finish, Seraphina pulled him back, her voice sharp. “This has nothing to do with you! It was my decision!” She turned to me, her tone hardening into something cold and brittle. “The kidnapper was a maniac. Even if Hunter hadn’t hit the rope, your mother was probably a goner anyway. She’s gone. Can you please not make a scene?” I finally understood. She thought the person who had died was my mother. And she naturally assumed I would throw a fit, that I would take my anger out on her precious intern. An arctic chill shot up from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. I looked at this woman I had loved for five years, the woman I shared a bed with. “Seraphina, that was your mother! She was the closest person you had in the world!” I thought I had made myself perfectly clear, but she obviously didn’t grasp the meaning of my words. Her colleagues around us cast sympathetic glances my way. Clearly, they all thought the same thing she did. Seraphina’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Liam, stop with the spoiled tantrums. I told you, this is not Hunter’s fault.” She reached out to take my hand. The same hand that had held a sniper rifle steady on a hundred training fields, the same hand that had gently straightened my tie. Right now, it just felt filthy. With every ounce of strength I had, I wrenched my hand away. 2. I went to the morgue alone. Lifting the thin white sheet, I looked at my mother-in-law’s face, now an unrecognizable ruin from the fall. The tears I had been holding back finally broke free, streaming down my face. After my own parents, she was the kindest person to me in the world. When Seraphina was away on long training assignments, she would come over to keep me company and help tidy the apartment. She remembered all my favorite dishes and would cook them for me, always trying new recipes. Just last week, she had held my hand, chattering away. “Liam, after Sera’s next mission is over and she has some time off, I’m going to knit you two a matching set of sweaters.” Her voice, her smile, they were still so vivid in my mind. Now, she was just a cold body on a steel table. The morgue door swung open. Seraphina walked in, with Hunter in tow. Her voice was glacial. “Liam, if you’re done looking, let’s go. Staring won’t bring your mother back to life.” Hunter offered me a tissue with a theatrical sniffle, his voice thick with fake emotion. “Liam, I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s my fault for being so eager… If it wasn’t for me, your mom wouldn’t have…” My hand flew up, and with all my strength, I struck him. The sound of the slap echoed crisply in the cold room. SMACK! Hunter staggered back, clutching his cheek, a look of disbelief on his face. Seraphina exploded. She shoved me hard, shielding Hunter with her body. “Liam, are you insane?! Hunter feels guilty enough as it is! What more do you want?!” The push sent me stumbling backward. My head slammed against the cold, tiled wall. A sharp pain lanced through my skull, followed by the warm trickle of liquid. I touched the back of my head and my fingers came away sticky with blood. I pointed a trembling finger at the shrouded gurney. “Seraphina, are you even human?!” I screamed, my voice raw. “That woman raised you! She gave you everything for decades!” Seraphina’s protective stance wavered for a fraction of a second. But a small cough from Hunter snapped her back to attention. “What are you talking about? It was your mother who died. She raised you. What does that have to do with me? You’re so desperate to frame Hunter that you’d curse my own mother to death? You’re being completely irrational.” My heart turned to ash. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Fine, Seraphina. If I’m so irrational, then there’s no reason for us to be together anymore. Let’s get a divorce.” 3. Hunter burst into tears, his whole body trembling. “Liam, I know you hate me! But you can’t use divorce to force the Captain to punish me! Sob… I really didn’t mean to hit the rope!” Seraphina’s chest heaved with fury. She looked at me as if I were a vile criminal. She pulled Hunter into her arms, gently wiping away his tears. When she looked back at me, her face was a mask of impatience and disgust. “Liam, how long are you going to keep this up?” “Hunter is just a rookie. Even if he made a mistake, it’s understandable. Are you threatening me with divorce just to ruin his career?” “Your mother is dead. I understand you’re grieving. But you can’t drag everyone down into your hell with you!” “You know my mother adored you, always treated you like her own son. You’re making this scene because you know she’ll tear into me to defend you, right? To get your revenge?” Watching her so righteously defend another man, I suddenly felt like I was watching a bizarre, tragic play. The girl who once beat up a street punk for shoving me was gone forever. From behind her, Hunter’s face emerged. A flicker of triumph flashed in his red-rimmed eyes before he resumed his innocent, wounded expression. “Captain, don’t blame Liam. It’s all my fault… Why don’t you just send me to a disciplinary hearing? As long as it makes Liam feel better, I don’t mind suffering…” He sobbed as if he were the most wronged person on earth. Seraphina patted his back comfortingly. When she turned back to me, her face held nothing but icy contempt. “That’s enough. Get out of here, Liam. If you harass Hunter again, don’t blame me for what happens next.” With that, she took Hunter’s hand and walked out without a backward glance. 4. The next day, Seraphina tossed a thick stack of cash onto the table in front of me. “Liam, you’ve been making a fuss for this long, isn’t this what you wanted? Some compensation from Hunter? I’ve already taken care of your mother’s body.” I stared at the money, not moving. Seraphina thought I was unhappy with the amount. She frowned, explaining in a tone dripping with condescension. “I pulled some strings and sold her body on the black market. To a wealthy man who just died, for a… pairing. Fifty thousand. It was the best price I could get.” “At least this way, your mother can enjoy some luxury in the afterlife. Consider it your final act of filial piety.” I lifted my head and stared at her. “Seraphina, what did you say? You sold Mom?” My steady gaze made her uncomfortable. Her voice rose. “What else was I supposed to do? Leaving her in the morgue costs money every day. She was just a retired teacher, never made much in her life. Now her death has earned you fifty thousand dollars. At least she didn’t die for nothing.” Hunter chimed in at the perfect moment. “He’s right, Liam. The Captain did it for your own good. Besides, a arrangement like this is a fine final resting place. It’s better than her being all alone down there.” A metallic taste filled my mouth. I nearly choked on my own rage. My mother-in-law was a celebrated professor at a major university. Her students were everywhere. She was a kind soul who never troubled anyone and loved me like her own son. To think that after her death, her own daughter would sell her body into such a grotesque arrangement. I pushed the stack of money back towards her. “I have no use for this.” Seraphina still thought I was holding out for more. “Liam, your mother was just a teacher. Fifty grand for her life is a good deal. You should be grateful!” I shook my head, speaking each word with chilling clarity. “You’re mistaken, Seraphina. What I mean is, this is the money from selling your mother. You should be the one to collect it.” Seraphina’s face darkened instantly. She grabbed my wrist, her grip like iron. “Liam, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you so desperate for more money that you’d wish my own mother dead?” Hunter’s eyes welled up again as he rushed to intervene. “Liam, please don’t be like this. The Captain is just trying to help. You can’t say things like that about her mom…” I tore my arm from Seraphina’s grasp, my voice eerily calm. “Seraphina, I’m giving you one last piece of advice. Go and get Mom’s body back. She always valued her dignity. And she loved you more than anything.” My words were the final spark. Seraphina erupted. She snatched the money and hurled it at my face. “You’re insane! My mom is perfectly fine on vacation abroad! I just checked her phone’s location yesterday. It was at the airport! You can stop this crazy act! As for your mother, getting you this fifty thousand is the most valuable thing she’s ever done!” “And another thing! You want a divorce? Fine! I’ll give you one!” She pointed a finger at my nose, her eyes filled with malice. “But I’ll be the one writing the terms. And I’m going to make you understand what happens when you piss me off!” With that, she grabbed the still-sobbing Hunter and slammed the door behind them. 5. To protect Seraphina’s “ace” reputation and the department’s public image, the higher-ups quickly classified the catastrophic failure as a “rescue accident.” And Seraphina, to shield Hunter, took full responsibility. She even held a press conference. On screen, Seraphina looked gaunt, with dark circles under her eyes. She offered a “sincere” apology to the countless cameras. But every word she spoke was a defense of Hunter. “…As an intern, Officer Hunter’s willingness to step up in such a critical moment, his courage in offering to take the shot himself, is truly commendable.” “Though the result was tragic, there is honor in his attempt.” Hunter, dressed in somber clothes, wept uncontrollably for the cameras. He recounted again and again how his “operational error” and “lack of mental fortitude” led to the tragedy, professing that he would be “haunted by regret for the rest of his life.” His masterful performance quickly won the public’s sympathy. One reporter asked a pointed question. “Captain Seraphina, why is your husband, Mr. Liam, not present at today’s press conference?” A shadow of sorrow and exhaustion flickered across Seraphina’s face at the perfect moment.

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1 My mother was kidnapped. The deranged kidnapper was live-streaming an auction for the couture silk gown she was wearing, a piece worth millions. I frantically called my husband, the CEO, but his voice dripped with sarcasm. “First, you have my sister faking a heart attack. Now, you’re staging your own mother’s kidnapping.” “Fine. Let’s see what happens. Let’s see if she gets stripped naked in front of the entire world when you have no money to save her.” His little canary coughed softly in the background, and he hung up on me without another word. But I never got to tell him: “The one who was kidnapped… it’s your mother.” The call came from the police. My mother-in-law had been taken. Seven months pregnant, I rushed to the station just as the kidnapper started his live stream. The moment I saw the elegant, custom-made silk gown, I knew. The woman on the screen was my husband’s mother, Eleanor. The kidnapper, his face hidden by a mask, stared into the camera with cold, dead eyes. “The bidding for the dress on this old bitch starts at five million,” he snarled. “If no one pays in thirty minutes, I’ll strip it off her myself, live for all of you to see!” My body trembled with fury, and a sharp pain shot through my swollen belly. A female officer steadied me. “Mrs. Vaughn, please try to stay calm. Your mother-in-law was last seen in the West End district. We have units searching everywhere.” Forcing myself to breathe, I fumbled for my phone and called my husband, Dean. He rejected the call twice. The third time, he answered. Before he could speak, I choked out the words. “Dean, Mom’s been kidnapped. Some maniac is demanding five-point-two million in the next thirty minutes, or he’s going to strip her naked on a live stream.” A long silence, then a contemptuous laugh. “First, you get my sister to fake a heart attack for attention, and now your mother gets kidnapped by a ‘maniac’. Elara, could you possibly be any more pathetic?” An officer took the phone from my shaking hand. “Mr. Vaughn, this is the police. We have credible information that the victim is your—” Dean cut him off impatiently. “You hired a pretty convincing actor this time, Elara. You want money? Fine. Get on your knees and apologize to Chloe. Ten times, you touch your head to the floor. Then slap yourself thirty times.” I knew what this was about. Payback for the time his sister and I had cornered his mistress, Chloe, at a mall and called her out. I opened a video call. I knelt before them, knocking my head against the cold floor until I felt the sting of broken skin, my own hand striking my cheek again and again. “Chloe, I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m the one who stole your place. I’m the pathetic other woman. Please, forgive me.” A smug, almost invisible smile played on Chloe’s lips. “Oh, Elara,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “You shouldn’t have to do this. A mother’s life is priceless. If you needed money, you could have just asked me. You didn’t have to slander your own mom to trick Dean.” I ignored her, my tear-filled eyes locked on my husband. “I did what you asked, Dean.” A flicker of something dark crossed his face before he answered coldly, “You’ll have the money in ten minutes.” I scrambled to my feet, wiping my tears, a wave of gratitude washing over me. But then Chloe’s saccharine voice piped up. “Oh, Dean, honey, look at that gorgeous emerald bracelet. It’s only five-point-two million…” Panic seized me. I looked at Dean, who hesitated, his gaze falling on me. Chloe feigned generosity. “Oh, never mind. Elara obviously needs the money for her mother. I just hope this is all some silly joke, or her poor mother will really suffer.” At her words, Dean’s expression turned to ice. He looked at me with profound disappointment. “See how considerate Chloe is? And then there’s you. You’d stoop to anything for attention. It’s nauseating.” “You won’t get a single dime.” He turned his attention back to the woman in his arms, his voice softening. “Anything you want, Chloe, I’ll buy it for you.” I snatched the phone back, but he had already hung up. When I tried to call back, the line was busy. In desperation, I called everyone I knew. I scraped together every penny I had, but I was still short. With only minutes left, I transferred the five million I had to the kidnapper’s account. On the live stream, the kidnapper checked the transfer. His face twisted in rage. “You bitch! You think you can play me?” He lunged forward, ripping the priceless silk gown from my mother-in-law’s body and throwing it to the ground. Eleanor’s frail body was exposed to the world. The comment section flooded with vile, disgusting remarks. Hearing her muffled sobs, I requested to join the stream. “Please, don’t hurt her!” I begged. “I’ll get the rest of the money, I promise!” “Ten more minutes,” the kidnapper roared. “Or I’ll do more than just strip her. You’ll get a real show!” Just then, Dean’s sister, Isabelle, burst into the station. Hearing the kidnapper’s threat, she clutched her chest. “Elara, call him now! Get Dean to send the money, or Mom is going to be killed!” I shakily dialed his number again. He picked up, his voice dripping with venom. “Are you deaf or just stupid, you bitch? How many times do I have to tell you not to bother me when I’m with Chloe?” Isabelle grabbed the phone, her face pale. “Dean, it’s Mom! She’s been kidnapped! If you have a shred of decency, you’ll get here now!” “Isabelle, this little trick wasn’t interesting the first time,” he sneered. “It’s even less so now.” Isabelle aimed the phone’s camera at the live stream monitor. Dean’s eyes widened in shock. “What the hell? I thought it was Elara’s mother?” Isabelle was so pale she looked translucent. I quickly gave her the emergency heart medication from my purse. After a moment, she exploded. “Open the live stream yourself, you bastard, and use your goddamn eyes! Mom is kidnapped, and you’re off with that whore? If anything happens to her, I will never forgive you!” Dean hesitated, but Chloe covered his phone with her own. “Dean, honey, your mother just sent me a text ten minutes ago.” He glanced at her screen, then looked back at us, his eyes cold. “Fine. You want a show? I’ll give you one.” A deep sense of unease settled in my gut. A moment later, Dean joined the kidnapper’s live stream. “I’ll give you ten million,” he said, his voice chillingly calm. “Break her legs.” The entire police station fell silent. The kidnapper’s eyes gleamed with greed. A metal pipe flashed across the screen, followed by Eleanor’s agonized groan. Isabelle’s heart gave out. She collapsed, and paramedics rushed her to the hospital. “You bastard!” I screamed at the phone. “That’s your mother in there! Call her right now if you don’t believe me! See if she answers!” Dean froze, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But Chloe leaned in and whispered something in his ear. His expression hardened again. “How much did you pay these actors, Elara? I don’t have time for your games.” A man who had been at the station on other business couldn’t take it anymore. He snatched my phone. “Listen, kid,” he said angrily, panning the camera around the busy police station. “Your sister just had a heart attack, your mother’s been kidnapped, and you’re sitting there accusing them of playing games? I don’t care if you think it’s real or not. When it’s your own mother, you show up!” The stranger’s words seemed to get through to him. But then the kidnapper spoke again. “New offer! One million, and you can have the old hag delivered to your door.” Dean was about to speak again when Chloe tugged on his arm. “Dean, he’s right. Maybe you should go check. We can… reschedule.” He squeezed her hand, his gaze on me filled with loathing. “Don’t get too greedy, Elara. You might choke on it.” “Even if it’s a trick, you have to come back, Dean!” I cried, clutching my stomach. “Don’t forget I’m carrying your child!” Chloe’s face went white, and she turned away, sobbing quietly. The veins on Dean’s forehead bulged—a sign of impending rage. “You want to play?” he hissed. “Let’s play.” He reconnected to the stream. “Another ten million,” he said, his voice flat and dead. “Break her arms. And take off the rest of her clothes.” The kidnapper, ecstatic, swung the pipe again. The gag in Eleanor’s mouth fell out, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream of pure agony. Dean shuddered, a look of dawning horror on his face. But then Chloe collapsed into his arms, whispering with her last ounce of strength, “Go home, Dean… don’t worry about me…” “Elara,” he roared into the phone. “If anything happens to Chloe, I will make you wish you were never born!” The video feed cut out. I staggered back, my world spinning. A few minutes later, police swarmed the location on the live feed. The kidnapper was apprehended. Seeing Eleanor being carried out on a stretcher, the world went black. I woke up in a hospital bed three days later. The nurses told me Isabelle had survived. Eleanor’s arms and legs were broken, but she was stable. She would be bedridden for the rest of her life. And Dean? He’d rented a helicopter to shower Chloe with cash in a grand public gesture and had leased a private island for her. My hand went to my aching stomach, a cold dread seeping into my bones. When I went to see Eleanor, her eyes were empty, the vibrant spark she once had, gone. Only when she saw me did a flicker of life return. I walked to her bedside, and tears streamed down her face. “Elara,” she whispered, her voice thick with guilt. “This is karma, isn’t it?” “When I found out that worthless son of mine had fallen for that manipulative girl, I drugged you both. It was the only way I thought you could have a child and save your marriage. I thought if you were married, the love would come later. I never imagined he was such a monster.” “Do you hate me, Elara?” I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Of course not, Mom. I know you were trying to help.” She nodded, a small, sad smile on her lips. “I know you’re a good girl. If you ever decide to leave… just come tell me you’re safe.” Her voice became distant. “Your father-in-law and I never had a proper wedding. When he passed, I had to raise the children alone. If… if I go one day, I want you to give me a wedding instead of a funeral. I want to wear a white dress and see him again, looking beautiful.” “Mom, don’t talk like that!” I said, trying to sound angry. “You’re going to live a long, long life.” She didn’t seem to hear me. “And remember,” she said, her voice turning to steel. “I never want to see that bastard son of mine again.” She started coughing, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “Doctor!” I screamed. “My mother is spitting up blood! Help!” Eleanor was rushed back into emergency surgery. I sat in the waiting room for what felt like an eternity. Isabelle and her husband arrived, and I looked up at them, lost. “How is she?” Isabelle asked. “It’s bad.” The light above the operating room door went out. The doctor emerged, his face grim. “She lost the will to live,” he said, shaking his head. “During the procedure, she bit her own tongue. By the time we could stop her… she was gone.” Isabelle fainted. Two days later, I posted the full story online, including Eleanor’s final wish. The public, moved by her tragic story, organized to attend her service and pay their respects. On the third day, I used my life savings to rent out the ballroom of a five-star hotel. On the day of the funeral, just as promised, hundreds of strangers came to honor her. And, of course, Dean showed up, with Chloe on his arm. He saw me in my white maternity gown and sneered. “Desperate to get married, are we? Not even divorced yet and you’re already moving on to the next guy. You really are pathetic.” He was completely oblivious to the looks of disgust from the crowd. A group of volunteers formed a protective line in front of me. “Dean,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “I’ve already sent you the divorce papers. You are not welcome here. Leave. Now.” He looked stunned, as if he’d never seen this side of me before. His chest heaved. “Who the hell do you think you are to divorce me? You’re going to carry my child and marry someone else? Did you ask my permission?” “Did you ask my permission before you got a mistress?” I shot back. “Did you ask for the truth before you paid to have your own kidnapped mother tortured and humiliated? Did you ask if your sister’s heart was stable before you sent her into cardiac arrest for the second time?” He was speechless, staring at me. “What are you talking about?” “I’m done with you, Dean. I hope you and Chloe are very happy together. I hope you’re chained to each other for eternity.” A flicker of panic crossed his face. “Elara, what do you know? What did you do to my mother and my sister?” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “I don’t have time for this. If you want the truth, ask the woman standing next to you.” A venomous look flashed in Chloe’s eyes before she burst into tears. “Dean, honey, I’ve been with you this whole time! You know everything I’ve done!” The crowd was stunned by her instant waterworks. One woman finally snapped. “That little act might work on him, but if it were me, I’d slap her face off!” “Damn right!” another chimed in. “And Dean’s no better! He drove his own mother to her death, his sister’s still in the hospital, and he has the nerve to bring his mistress here to taunt his pregnant wife! Scum!” “We can’t let him in! He’ll ruin everything!” Dean, hearing the whispers, turned red with rage. “Elara, after I go check on my mother, you and I are going to have a reckoning. You just wait.” He tried to pull Chloe away, but she resisted, looking around with a puzzled expression. “Dean, honey, why aren’t there any pictures of the bride and groom? There aren’t even any names.” He paused, finally taking in the strange decorations. Panic flared in my chest. “Get out, Dean! Take her and get out!” The crowd echoed my command. Dean just laughed, a cruel, ugly sound. He snapped his fingers, and his bodyguards moved forward. “Today, I’m going to find out exactly what dirty little secret you’re hiding in here.” The scene devolved into chaos. I tried to back away, shielding my stomach, but when I turned, Chloe was right behind me. Her hateful gaze was fixed on my belly. She smiled, then shoved me, hard. I hit the floor. A warm, sticky wetness spread beneath me. Someone screamed. “Blood! She’s bleeding!” The crowd parted. Chloe had fallen a few feet away, and was now sobbing. “Oh, Elara, I’m so sorry! I should have just let you push me! Then you wouldn’t have…” She crawled towards me, grabbing my hand and trying to make me slap her. Dean kicked me aside and rushed to Chloe’s side. I stared blankly at the pool of red spreading on the marble floor. My only thought was: My baby is gone. Dean’s face was contorted with fury. “I’m tearing this place apart,” he snarled. “I’m going to see what kind of trash you’re hiding!” His bodyguards held back the crowd. I was too weak to stop him. He and Chloe swept past me and into the ballroom. The crowd surrounded me, helpless, calling for an ambulance. I watched Dean’s retreating back and whispered, “I’m sorry, Mom. I couldn’t stop him.” Dean stormed into the hall. The room was filled with white chrysanthemums, all surrounding a single white casket in the center of the room. Chloe gasped, clutching his arm. He remembered my defiant expression and shook her off. “If you’re scared, you can wait outside.” He waved for a bodyguard to take her away, then slowly walked towards the stage. With every step closer to the casket, the unease in his gut grew into a suffocating dread. He reached the top, looked inside, and saw the face of the person lying there. He screamed and stumbled backward, collapsing on the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384710”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was the placeholder daughter. The real one, the heiress, returned with a secret she couldn’t hide any longer. She paraded her swollen belly through town as if it were a trophy. “This?” she’d announced, a smug smile playing on her lips. “This is the heir to the Sterling empire.” My jaw dropped. On the other end of the phone, my boyfriend’s voice crackled with fury. “Who the hell is spreading rumors about me?” 1 The day the true Hamilton heiress came back, I was one signature away from taking over my adoptive parents’ company. Which is why, whenever she looked at me, her eyes burned with a hatred so pure it was almost comical. I’m not exaggerating when I say that if a stray dog dropped a bone between us, Penny Hamilton would snatch it up and declare it had been hers all along. The reason was simple: she couldn’t stand the sight of me. I understood her resentment, I really did. But understanding didn’t change the fact that the decision to hand me the company wasn’t mine alone. “Dad, Mom,” I said, trying to be diplomatic. “The company should go to Penny. I can help her, guide her through the transition. But asking me to take the helm… I can’t do that.” My adoptive parents hesitated, and I knew why. Penny’s reputation preceded her. She was famous for nothing but partying and spending, the epitome of a spoiled heiress. The Hamiltons had built a respectable business from the ground up, a legacy of sweat and sacrifice. They weren’t about to let their prodigal daughter burn it to the ground. Their plan had been to give her a third of the shares—enough to keep her comfortable for life without giving her the power to do any real damage. But Penny’s ambition was as vast as her incompetence. She was determined to outdo me. When she found out I had a degree in finance, she immediately begged our parents to send her to a prestigious business school in Switzerland. Less than a month later, she came running back home, whining about being homesick. I suspected the truth was she couldn’t keep up with the coursework. Back home, she demanded a senior management position at the company. Fine. I stepped aside. In the two months she was there, half our clients left, and a good chunk of our best employees resigned. With the company teetering on the brink of collapse, my parents had no choice but to call me back in. Penny was practically vibrating with rage. But while she fumed, I got to work. When she realized I wasn’t even treating her as a rival—just an obstacle to be managed—she clutched her stomach and cried out in pain. We all rushed her to the hospital in a panic, only to be torn apart by the doctor. “What kind of parents are you?” he scolded, his voice sharp. “She’s at least three months pregnant! You have to be more careful. You’re lucky both of them are okay this time. One more scare like this and you might not be so fortunate.” My parents froze on the spot. Pregnant? When did Penny get pregnant? After the doctor left, Penny stared at her hands, the picture of guilt. My adoptive father paced the room like a caged animal, his face a thundercloud. My mother’s eyes welled with tears. “Penny, honey… who’s the father?” Penny lifted her head, and a flicker of triumph, of all things, shone in her eyes. “I’m carrying the heir to the Sterling empire.” “Whose?” my father choked out. “Chad Sterling’s.” My world tilted on its axis. On the other end of my phone, the man in question was practically shouting. “Who is spreading these lies about me? Viv, I swear on my life, I’m innocent.” I covered the receiver and slipped out of the hospital room. “Do you know a Penny Hamilton?” I had never heard Chad so agitated. “Penny who? I don’t know any Penny, or Sunny, or whatever her name is! Is she the one behind this?” Well, that was… definitive. Penny was three and a half months pregnant. If my memory served me right, three and a half months ago, Chad Sterling was on the other side of the Atlantic. This baby had absolutely nothing to do with him. “Okay,” I said calmly. “I get it.” Chad paused. “Viv? That’s not the reaction I was expecting. Are you mad? Don’t you believe me?” I sighed. “I’m not an idiot.” Besides, I was well acquainted with Penny’s talent for spectacular, jaw-dropping lies. Chad was still rambling. “Viv, my heart, my whole life—it’s all yours. It’s always been yours.” “Chad,” I cut in, a smile tugging at my lips. “Shut up.” 2 Chad could be incredibly possessive, in the sweetest way. He spent the next ten minutes swearing oaths of fidelity, assuring me again and again that he had nothing to do with Penny. By the end of it, I was the one comforting him. “Viv, can you come over tonight?” he asked, his voice small and wounded. “I’m worried some other lunatic is going to try and frame me.” I rolled my eyes. The allure of being Manhattan’s golden boy was a heavy burden, apparently. I glanced back into the hospital room where my parents were still interrogating a defiant Penny. “Be good,” I murmured into the phone. “I need to handle this family mess first.” Penny’s baby wasn’t Chad’s, which meant she’d been with someone else. I couldn’t just drop that bomb on my parents; I needed to find out the truth quietly. “Okay, okay! I’ll wait for you!” The man who was a ruthless titan of industry in public was now as docile as a puppy. I smiled softly and ended the call. Very few people knew Chad was pursuing me. I’d been hesitant at first, unsure of where I stood in the world. But after Penny came back, his steadfastness had won me over. The Hamiltons were no longer my family, but Chad had promised me a home that would be ours and ours alone. At a time when my entire identity had been shattered, his words were like sunlight pouring through the cracks. That’s when I finally agreed to be his girlfriend. I quickly discovered that the man tabloids painted as a playboy who changed women like suits was, in reality, a disciplined and brilliant CEO who ran the vast Sterling Corporation with chilling efficiency. And in private, he was a complete romantic. He’d send me photos of the roses in his garden or his goofy golden retriever. He brewed me ginger tea when I had cramps. He’d notice my shoes were uncomfortable and a new pair would arrive the next day. He would be my sounding board, a warm embrace when I felt like the world had abandoned me. He hadn’t performed grand gestures, but his quiet, consistent care was everything. It was the warmth I desperately needed. “Vivian, where did you go?” My mother rushed out, her face a mask of anger and anxiety. “You need to do something. Help Penny sort this out.” Inside, Penny stared at the ceiling, looking thoroughly unimpressed. My face remained calm, but a cold knot formed in my stomach. Penny had been gone for twenty years; it was only natural for my parents to dote on her. But to immediately ask me to clean up her mess… how much longer would they rely on me? “First things first,” I said, my voice even. “Are we absolutely sure the baby is Chad Sterling’s?” Penny shot up like a cornered cat. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you jealous I’m the one carrying his baby?” As if. If I wanted his baby, getting it would be the easy part. Jealous of her? Please. “Calm down, calm down,” my mother soothed, stroking Penny’s hair before turning to me with a reproachful look. “Vivian, she’s emotional right now. Don’t provoke her.” I was just asking for confirmation. Was that too much to handle? I took a deep breath, forcing down the wave of irritation. I didn’t mind her showering Penny with love, but did she have to tear me down in the process? Seeing Penny’s smug, triumphant expression, a chill went through me. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” I said, my tone carefully neutral. “I just think that if it is Chad Sterling’s child, then we should contact him immediately.” “But how?” My mother’s face was etched with worry. My father stood by, his brow furrowed in thought. The Hamiltons ran a decent company, but it was a rowboat next to the Sterling Corporation’s battleship. They didn’t move in the same circles. “We have to find a way,” I insisted, looking pointedly at Penny. “The baby is growing every day. We can’t let him be born without a father in the picture.” I softened my voice, feigning concern. “Whether he acknowledges the child, whether you even decide to keep it… those are conversations you need to have with him. But first, Penny, you have to reach out.” “That’s right, that’s right!” My mother, desperate for a plan, seized on my words. “Penny, call him now.” But suddenly, Penny looked conflicted. “His phone… it goes straight to voicemail. And he hasn’t replied to my texts…” This was getting more absurd by the second. Was she even sure who she’d been texting? 3 My adoptive parents looked like they’d been slapped. My father’s hand shot up as if to strike her, but seeing her pale, tear-streaked face, he dropped it with a growl of pure frustration. “You foolish, foolish girl!” “What are you doing, yelling at her at a time like this?” My mother immediately jumped to her daughter’s defense. Penny burrowed into her mother’s arms, sobbing. “Mom, I swear, it’s Chad’s baby!” “I know, I know, sweetie. It’s his.” My mother comforted her, then looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Vivian, you have to find a way to meet with him. You have to explain Penny’s situation.” Getting a meeting with Chad would be easy. But I wasn’t going to do it. Not for this. This woman was trying to pin a baby on the man I loved, and she wanted me to be her messenger? To ask him to play daddy to another man’s child? The nerve was astounding. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to go,” I said, shaking my head and offering a more practical suggestion. “If he won’t even see Penny, why would he see me? A better approach would be to use the company as a pretext. Request a formal business meeting. He’d have to show up for that.” Whether Hamilton Industries was important enough to warrant his time wasn’t my problem. My mother frantically urged my father to make the arrangements. He looked miserable, but he didn’t argue, just stalked out of the room, phone in hand. “This is the heir to the Sterling empire,” Penny sneered, shooting me a look of pure contempt. “Soon, I’ll be the next Mrs. Sterling. You’d better watch how you act around me.” I just raised an eyebrow. If Chad Sterling would fall for someone like Penny, then he wasn’t the man I thought he was. And I wouldn’t want him anyway. My mother chided Penny for her rudeness, but a little pouting was all it took for her to be forgiven. The two of them were soon lost in a fantasy world, chattering excitedly about how Chad would react. I quietly hit record on my phone. My father returned quickly. A line had been secured. They could meet with Chad tomorrow. My mother and Penny were ecstatic. I stopped the recording and sent the audio file straight to Chad. The gold digger was on the move. The prospect of meeting Chad seemed to cure Penny instantly; she checked herself out of the hospital. On the ride home, she was a whirlwind of giddy chatter, fantasizing about becoming the Sterling matriarch and using their resources to elevate the Hamilton family to new heights. She even managed to charm my father out of his foul mood, and soon the whole family was caught up in her daydream. My phone buzzed. It was Chad. I quickly declined the call and texted back: Can’t talk. Text me. He replied instantly: I’M INNOCENT! I sent him a hugging emoji and told him we’d talk properly when we could meet. From my parents’ behavior, it was clear there was no room for me in the Hamilton house anymore. It was only a matter of time before I had to leave. I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast. The moment we got home, Penny started in on me, her eyes flashing with resentment. This was her house now. So what if I knew how to run a company? Once she married into the Sterling family, she’d have everything. I let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. “Why do you need a man to define your worth?” Her entire fantasy hinged on Chad. If she wasn’t the next Mrs. Sterling, she was nothing. “Vivian Hamilton!” she shrieked, clutching her stomach as if in agony. My parents came running at the sound. Penny immediately burst into tears. “Mom, I don’t want her in this house! Make her leave! Make her leave now!” “Penny, stop this nonsense,” my father scolded, but my mother just looked torn. I almost had to laugh. “Penny needs to rest,” I said, making the decision for them. “It’s best if I stay somewhere else for a while.” I paused, then added, “And I’ll hand over my duties at the company.” From the moment I learned of Penny’s existence, I had been preparing for this day. I’d secretly started my own consulting firm. Now was the perfect time to step away and focus on my own future. I was grateful to my adoptive parents for raising me. But it was time to say goodbye. 4 My parents put on a show of being heartbroken. My mother even dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Vivian, are you angry with me for spoiling Penny? It’s just that she’s been through so much…” “Mom,” I cut her off gently, “she’s pregnant and needs a stress-free environment. Me leaving is the best thing for everyone.” I didn’t blame her for loving her biological daughter. That was natural. What I couldn’t stand was being trampled on in the process. There was no point in forcing them to choose between us. “The company is in your hands now,” I told them. “You’ll have to work hard.” We all knew Penny was incapable of running it, but if she wanted it, she could have it. My father’s jaw was tight, but he said nothing. No one did. They didn’t insist. They didn’t say, “This is your home, and no one can kick you out.” And in their silence, I found a strange sort of peace. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out the door. People change. They had found her, the real thing, and I, the replacement, was no longer needed. All those years of love and affection evaporated like morning mist. Penny followed me to the car, a fake pout on her face. But as I passed, her eyes glinted with triumph and she whispered, so only I could hear, “You should just drop dead out there and never come back. Only when you’re gone will this family truly be mine.” Is that so? I thought. I had poured my blood, sweat, and tears into building Hamilton Industries. She couldn’t even finish business school. Good luck to her. But it wasn’t my problem anymore. I took my suitcase to the sleek, modern apartment I’d bought a while back. It was a quiet building, just two units per floor. The only drawback was my next-door neighbor: a certain lovesick billionaire who had insisted on buying the adjacent unit. When Chad found out I’d moved out, he was practically wagging his tail like an overjoyed puppy. “Viv, are you hungry? I can make you some noodles,” he chirped, following me around as I unpacked. “Are you still mad? Go on, hit me. Your boyfriend is your personal punching bag.” He flitted around my apartment, a whirlwind of energy, chattering away while he helped me unpack, mopped the floors, and wiped down the counters. With him around, everything was easier. “I’m not mad,” I said, finally. “I just think she’s an idiot.” To sleep with a man and not even know who he was… it was beyond reckless. “Have your people look into it,” I added. “Find out who really got her pregnant, and why she’s so convinced it was you.” “On it,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. The crown prince was angry, and when he was angry, things happened. After making a quick call, he disappeared into his own apartment and returned minutes later with two steaming bowls of beef noodle soup, my favorite. As we ate, he asked about my plans. I laid out my strategy for my new company. “Well,” I finished with a smile, “I guess I’ll be counting on the great Mr. Sterling’s support from now on.” My little company needed all the help it could get. “Anything for you,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes sparkling. “Does that earn me a kiss?” He was ridiculously endearing. I gave him a deep, lingering kiss, losing myself in the affection pouring from him. Thank God fate had brought him to me. I couldn’t imagine how I would have survived this, having the family I’d always known choose to cast me aside, without him. His unwavering support was the only thing keeping me from sinking into a pit of despair. “Viv,” Chad murmured, holding me close after our meal. “How do you want to handle this? I swear, I don’t even know who this Penny woman is.” “Just deal with it logically,” I said, stroking his hair. “You don’t need to do anything drastic just for my sake.” I didn’t want him dragged into this petty drama. If Penny ever found out about us, she would create a scandal that could damage his reputation. “Handle it your way.” 5 Chad was more disciplined than anyone I knew. The next morning, I woke up to the smell of a full breakfast cooking. It was all my favorites. By the time I finished my shower, a bowl of warm porridge was waiting for me, at the perfect temperature to eat. He even made a move to feed me the first spoonful. I dodged him with a laugh. “You can save that for when I’m old and can’t lift a spoon myself.” It was just a figure of speech, but his eyes lit up. “Viv, does that mean… you’re ready to spend the rest of your life with me?” Oh. I wanted to say no, not yet. But looking at his hopeful, puppy-dog expression, I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint him. I gave a small nod. He was so overjoyed he looked like he might actually lift me up and spin me around. “But I need to focus on my career first,” I added quickly, afraid he’d start planning a wedding on the spot. I loved him, I truly did, but I needed to be my own person. I wasn’t going to be like Penny, whose only ambition was to trade her last name for a more powerful one. “I know, I know,” he said, nodding eagerly, a wide grin on his face. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you build your empire, right?” Of course not. I’d be a fool to turn down his help. Chad’s business acumen was legendary. My plan was to head to my new office, get my files in order, and then meet him at Sterling Corporation. But before I could leave, my adoptive mother called. “Vivian,” she said, her voice laced with a pleading tone. “Could you come with us to Sterling Corporation today?” In the background, I could hear Penny muttering about how useless I was, but my mother persisted. I raised an eyebrow. “Alright,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.” Might as well get some entertainment in before a long day of work. When I arrived, the Hamiltons were already waiting outside the imposing glass tower. Penny was kicking at a loose stone on the pavement. “Took you long enough,” she grumbled. “Anyone would think you’d dropped dead on the way over.” “Penny!” my mother hissed, scandalized. Penny just scowled and stormed towards the entrance. My mother gave me a weary, apologetic smile. “The appointment was for nine-thirty,” I said coolly. “It’s nine-twenty. If we’d shown up any earlier, people might think we were in a rush to meet our maker.” “You—” Penny whirled around, but I ignored her. Just because she was pregnant didn’t mean I had to tolerate her abuse. Let her mother coddle her. One day, she’d regret it. “She’s getting more out of line every day,” my father muttered, shaking his head. But that was all he did. If he’d ever bothered to curb Penny’s arrogance, she wouldn’t be the beautiful, brainless mess she was today. The receptionist at Sterling Corporation knew me. She smiled brightly as I walked in, ready to greet me by name, but I gave her a subtle shake of my head. She didn’t miss a beat. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked the group, her smile unwavering. All eyes turned to my adoptive father. “No,” he mumbled, his face turning a deep shade of red. “But I thought you said you’d secured a line?” I asked innocently. His face went from red to purple. It seemed his “connection” was flimsy at best—a favor called in for nothing. “My daughter is pregnant with your CEO’s child!” my mother suddenly declared, her voice ringing through the marble lobby. “We are respectable people! You will call Chad Sterling down here right now, or I will make a scene you won’t forget!” The young receptionist glanced at me, her eyes wide. I gave a slight nod. My mother wasn’t one for dramatics, but she was a cornered mother bear. If they tried to stop her, she would absolutely cause a scene. But Chad didn’t come down. Instead, his executive assistant appeared, a man with a perpetually calm demeanor. He gave me a barely perceptible nod before addressing the room. “Which one of you is Penny Hamilton?”

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On my birthday, my mother got a call from herself, ten years in the future. The voice on the phone told my mother everything. “Your daughter grows up to be an ungrateful viper. She’ll take the money you slaved for and run off with some deadbeat.” “Your husband, the one ‘away on business’? He’s just pretending to be broke. He’s waiting to bleed you dry before he marries his beautiful young mistress.” My mother froze. The birthday cake slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor. Her face went cold as she stared at me. “If that’s the case,” she said, her voice like ice, “then I don’t want either of you. From now on, I’m going to be the main character in my own life.” And with that, she slammed the door and locked it behind her. I cried, my tiny hands pounding on the wood, a wave of panic and heartbreak so huge it felt like I was drowning. My mother seemed to forget. I was only six years old. I had just learned how to read. 1 I stood there, paralyzed by fear and confusion. I saw my mother turn, her face a mask of fury, and my heart leaped into my throat. I threw myself to the floor, clinging to her legs, my small body shaking with sobs. “Mommy, don’t leave me! Please, I’ll be good. Betsy will be good.” But she just pushed me away, her eyes colder than I had ever seen them. From the phone, the voice of my future mother boomed, filled with an unquenchable rage. “Eleanor, you are an independent woman! You can’t let them hold you back anymore!” “It’s because I had her, because I had to take care of her, that I was chained to this house! I became some tired, washed-up housewife that I don’t even recognize!” I stared, uncomprehending. I didn’t understand the words, but I understood the disgust in my mother’s eyes as she looked at me. Tears streamed down my face. It wasn’t true. We had Maria, our housekeeper, who cooked for us. I knew how to wash my own socks. I gave Mommy backrubs when she was tired. If she would just stay, I would give her all my pocket money. The thought made me scramble for my piggy bank. I held it up to her, a desperate plea in my eyes. “Mommy, Betsy will give you all her money to buy pretty dresses.” For a second, my mother hesitated. A flicker of something—pity, maybe—crossed her face. But then the voice on the phone cut through the silence again. “That little brat is a master manipulator. She’ll say anything! She lies and steals your money and runs off with a boy!” “Don’t you fall for it!” My mother’s face hardened. Her gaze on me was now sharp, piercing. She told me I was just like my father. Both of us were parasites, sucking her life away, caging her freedom. She wrenched her leg from my grasp, so forcefully that I stumbled backward and landed hard on the cold floor. “You stay here,” she commanded. “Don’t you dare come looking for me. And don’t even think about calling.” The heavy front door slammed shut with a deafening crash. My mother was gone, her suitcase rolling behind her. Just before she was out of earshot, I heard the voice on the phone one last time. “What if the little brat runs out after you? Cries to the neighbors? Your reputation will be ruined.” My mother’s footsteps paused. Click. The deadbolt slid into place. A final, metallic sound that sealed me in and her out. “Don’t go anywhere,” her muffled voice came through the door. “Just be a good girl and wait for your father to come home.” 2 I clawed at the door until my fingers were raw, but it wouldn’t budge. Eventually, exhausted and heartbroken, I curled up on the floor and cried myself to sleep. When I woke up, sunlight was streaming through the windows. My stomach was growling with a painful, hollow ache. There was no food in the house. Our housekeeper, Maria, was on vacation for a few days, and my mother had been ordering takeout for me. I remembered there were some apples in the fridge. But those were for Dad. Desperate, I went to the sink and chugged glass after glass of cold water. It filled my stomach with a bloated, icy feeling that temporarily pushed the hunger away. But soon, a burning emptiness returned, worse than before. I curled up on the sofa in the corner of the living room, clutching my stomach, tears starting to fall again. Mommy didn’t want me anymore. After that phone call, she couldn’t even stand to look at me. Sobbing, I tiptoed into my mother’s bedroom, pretending she was still there. I don’t know how long I lay on her bed, but as I was drifting off, I saw something on her vanity table. They looked like little cups of jelly. I was so hungry. I didn’t think. I scrambled over and ate them all. A little while later, a sharp pain began to twist in my stomach. I needed the bathroom, but the door had swung shut and was stuck tight. I couldn’t get it open. The pain was getting worse. I cried out, fumbling for the watch phone on my wrist and calling my mother. She answered. “Mommy,” I sobbed. “My tummy hurts.” Her voice was tight with irritation. “Can’t you be a little more grown-up? Don’t call me for every little thing.” “If your stomach hurts, take some medicine. Is that so hard to figure out?” she scoffed. Then, her voice dripped with venom. “Hasn’t your deadbeat dad come home yet? Probably off enjoying himself in some other woman’s bed. Disgusting.” She hung up. A strange, foul smell filled the air. I couldn’t hold it. I’d soiled my pants. I shrank into the corner, terrified. Normally, if I had an accident like this, my mother would get the wooden spoon. But right now, all I wanted was for her to come back. My head felt fuzzy and hot. I fell asleep again. When I opened my eyes, my father was home. His face was a thundercloud as he yelled at the phone in his hand. My mother’s face was on the screen. “Look at what you’ve done to her! Eleanor, look at this child! She’s six years old, were you trying to starve her to death? What kind of mother does this?!” On the screen, my mother was in a brightly lit, fancy restaurant. She was slowly cutting a steak on her plate, not even bothering to look up. Only when my father had finished shouting did she put down her knife and fork, elegantly dab her lips with a napkin, and offer the camera a mocking smile. “What I’ve done? If she was hungry, couldn’t she eat? If her stomach hurt, couldn’t she find the bathroom? If she had a fever, she could take some medicine. What does any of that have to do with me?” “I was never obligated to take care of her!” She took a deep breath, her eyes turning red at the corners, as if she were the victim. “And don’t think I don’t know, Mark. Was it fun playing poor? Tricking me into being a housewife while you squirreled away your money?” For a second, my father’s angry expression cracked. He looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” But she wouldn’t elaborate. “Let’s get a divorce,” she said coldly, and ended the call. The room was silent. I knew my mother was just angry. She wanted my father to go to her, to comfort her. Whenever he was away on business before, she was always counting the days until he came home with a new handbag or a new dress. She cared about him. I wiped my tears and looked up at my father. “Go get Mommy, please? I miss her.” His face hardened. He gently removed my hand from his sleeve. “If your mother wants to throw a tantrum, let her.” My father hired a new live-in nanny just for me, and our old housekeeper, Maria, was now tasked with making all my favorite foods. In the days without my mother, things changed. The dishwasher was used for the first time. My pigtails, which were always lopsided, were now styled into beautiful new braids every morning. The clothes I wore were always a little too tight, and sometimes the other kids would laugh at me. The new nanny, Linda, pointed out that they were from two years ago. She got money from my father and bought me a whole new wardrobe of pretty dresses. I had once asked my mother why she insisted on doing everything herself when she wasn’t good at washing dishes or cooking, and always forgot to buy me clothes that fit. She had told me we didn’t have the money, and that I needed to learn not to be wasteful. Hiring a housekeeper was expensive. I told this to my father, secretly asking him to let the nannies go. He just snorted. “Your mother has a single dress in her closet that costs more than both their monthly salaries combined.” 3 He threw open her closet doors. “This is tens of thousands of dollars worth of clothes. And she says I tricked her into living a hard life?” “If she wants a divorce, fine. I’ve had enough, too.” That night, I cried until I couldn’t breathe. The old lady next door said I was a poor, pitiful thing. I was going to be a child of divorce. I didn’t know what that meant. I only knew that the woman on the phone, the one who claimed to be my mother from the future, had ruined everything. She had poisoned my mother’s mind. I tugged on my father’s sleeve. “Mommy didn’t mean it. The person on the phone tricked her. We have to go help her.” My father just frowned. “Betsy, don’t be difficult. Your mother and I were always going to end up here.” Then, a strange, soft look came into his eyes. “If you don’t like the new nanny, I can have another, prettier lady come take care of you.” I froze. I stumbled backward, shaking my head violently. My back hit the front door, and it swung open. My mother was standing there. I fell right into her arms. For a split second, a delirious joy surged through me, and I opened my mouth to call her name. But she pushed me away. She held out a piece of paper, her voice cold. “Sign it.” “Nothing you say this time will change my mind…” she started to say, but was cut off. My father had already signed the divorce papers without a word. My mother was stunned. Her face went pale with rage. She whirled on me. “Me or your father. Who do you choose?” Tears choked my voice. “I want it to be like before,” I whispered. “I want Mommy and Daddy to be together.” My mother’s expression changed instantly. From her phone, which was in her pocket, I could hear the woman—the future mother—laughing. “See? What did I tell you? She’s an ungrateful little viper!” “She’ll never appreciate what you do for her. You work yourself to the bone raising her, and she’s still attached to that man who is only her biological father.” I shook my head, desperately reaching for my mother’s hand. “No, that’s not it. I love Mommy. I’ll go with Mommy. Please don’t leave me.” My mother stared at me for a long time, her face unreadable. The voice from the phone continued, relentless. “If you take that brat with you, your life is over. She’s dead weight. A ball and chain.” “I am you, ten years from now! I know what I’m talking about! Don’t make the same mistakes I did.” My mother’s focus sharpened. She looked at me. “I gave you a choice. You didn’t take it.” “From now on, you are not my problem.” She pulled her hand away. For the second time, she abandoned me. She called me dead weight. The room fell silent again. My father knelt in front of me. His voice was a blade of ice. “Your mother doesn’t want you. Do you see that clearly now? She left you. From now on, whether you live or die, it has nothing to do with her.” Every word was an icicle piercing my skin. Silent tears slid down my cheeks, soaking the collar of my shirt. My father stood up, straightening his cuffs. “Linda will be taking care of you for a few days.” I blinked. And then I saw her, standing behind him. A pretty woman with a tight smile. Linda didn’t like it when I cried. I learned quickly to swallow my tears when she was looking. Linda also didn’t like it when I got too close to my father. “A big girl like you shouldn’t be acting that way,” she’d say, peeling an apple without looking at me. “Clinging to your father like that. It’s not proper. It’s the kind of thing a seductress would do.” My hands balled into fists. I didn’t understand all her words, but I knew they were ugly. I held back my tears, because crying would only make her tell my father I was being manipulative. One day, I noticed all the things my mother had left for me were gone. My favorite doll, my puzzles, the birthday presents she’d given me over the years—vanished. Linda just smiled. “All that junk needed to be thrown out. People would think you were a beggar.” “Out with the old, in with the new,” she sang. “From now on, in this house, you listen to me.” “I hate you!” The words burst out of me. I pushed her, hard. She stumbled and crashed into the coffee table. My father was coming down the stairs and saw everything. For the first time in my life, he hit me. He used his belt. It whistled through the air and cracked against my skin. The pain was so sharp I writhed on the floor, snot and tears streaming down my face. “She threw away my things! The things Mommy gave me! I hate her!” “Say that again!” he roared. “You disrespectful little brat!” The belt came down again, this time catching my cheek. A bright red welt appeared instantly, hot and stinging, the skin broken. My father froze, his anger faltering for a second. “If you apologize to Linda,” he said coldly, “I’ll forgive you.” “She’s just a child, Mark,” Linda said, her voice dripping with false concern. “She doesn’t know any better. I’ll teach her.” I scrambled to my feet, wiped my face, and ran. As the door slammed behind me, I heard Linda’s voice. “Should we go after her?” “No,” my father replied. “Let her learn her lesson. Her mother filled her head with poison.” 4 I wandered the streets, a homeless child. I pulled out my watch phone. I missed my mom. I had to call her. After a moment of silence, she said, “Fine. Come here.” I was ecstatic. I thought she was ready to forgive me. With the last five dollars I had, I bought a single rose from a street vendor. A present for her. When I got to the address she gave me and held out the flower, the disgust on her face was plain to see. “Where’s your father?” she asked, frowning. “He used to send me 999 roses. Does he think he can win me back with one pathetic flower, using you as his messenger?” She scoffed. “Not a chance.” “You go back and tell him that from now on, I’ll travel to Europe when I want, I’ll buy what I want, and he won’t say a word about it! I am done letting you two drain the life out of me.” “I am the main character now.” I looked up at her, my voice barely a whisper. “But… Dad doesn’t want me anymore.” My hands twisted the hem of my shirt. “There’s a new lady living with us. She doesn’t let me cry, or get close to Dad. She made him hit me.” Tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to show her the marks on my arms, to make her feel sorry for me. But the triumphant, defiant look on her face froze. She stared at me, her eyes narrowed, trying to see if I was lying. Then, she sneered. “So he’s trying to see who can be more ruthless, is that it?” “Why should I take on the dead weight he doesn’t want?” she spat. She called into the house, and a little girl came running out. The girl was wearing a frilly princess dress. She hugged my mother’s legs and chirped, “Mommy~” My world shattered. I lunged forward, trying to push the little girl away. “She’s my mommy!” But my mother just gave me a cold look and picked the other girl up. “And who are you?” she asked, pretending to think. “Go back and tell your father that I find both of you utterly repulsive. I have a new life now. Better choices. And a much sweeter, more obedient daughter than you.” She turned away, cooing at the little girl, the perfect picture of a loving mother and daughter. I stood there, watching them, a cold hand squeezing my heart until I couldn’t breathe. My mother’s phone was on her hip, the speaker on. And I heard that voice again. The voice of my future self. “That’s it,” the voice cheered. “Make the little brat regret it! Let them both burn! Hahaha.” “Don’t go soft now. She’s just putting on an act again!” No. That’s not right. I wasn’t acting. My head started to pound. Hearing that familiar voice, it all clicked into place. I suddenly knew exactly who the ‘mother from the future’ really was. I ran after my mother, desperate to tell her the truth. But she was already crossing the street, disappearing into the crowd. “Mommy!” I cried, darting into the road after her. The next second, an explosion of pain swallowed me whole.

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1 Three years after my death, my husband Mitte came to the old estate seeking me for the first time—for his mentor’s daughter. “Get Elara to the hospital. Anna needs her uterus,” he commanded coldly. The butler replied truthfully, “Sir, the lady passed away three years ago. As you instructed us not to bother you with her matters, we arranged her burial ourselves.” Mitte sneered. “Still playing games? She even bribed the Thornes’ butler. I’ll find her myself.” He stormed in with Anna Vance, ransacking the house—but found no trace of me. They left in anger. On the road, Anna whined, “Last time it was just a kidney—why the drama? How can I give you a child without a womb?” “Relax,” Mitte said. “She can’t hide forever.” No sooner had he spoken than their car veered and crashed into a monastery wall. When they woke, they were in the Netherworld. And I was nearby, processing the newly departed. … Perhaps the crash had addled their minds, but neither of them realized they were dead. When Mitte saw me sitting there, perfectly fine, a wave of relief washed over him, quickly followed by a surge of fury. He pointed a finger at me, his voice sharp with accusation. “Elara! Did you bribe the butler and go into hiding? How can you be so petty? It’s just a uterus. It’s not going to kill you.” I ignored him, busy guiding the new arrival in front of me to sign their final confirmation. Infuriated, he strode over and swept the desk clean with one violent motion. “I’m talking to you! Holding a grudge for three years… you’ve really got some nerve.” My work now thoroughly interrupted, I looked up at him calmly, my voice low and steady. “Wasn’t one kidney enough?” It happened on our wedding day. Anna, a guest of honor, never showed up. Mitte, frantic after a dozen unanswered calls, abruptly announced the wedding was postponed and left me standing at the altar without a backward glance. I waited in my heavy wedding gown until darkness fell, only to hear he was at the hospital. Anna was gravely ill and needed a kidney transplant. She produced a tissue-typing report claiming I was the only match. I refused, vehemently. In the end, Mitte had his men drag me to a hospital bed. He held up a marriage certificate, telling me that as my husband, he had already signed the donation consent form on my behalf. “One kidney won’t affect your life,” he had said. “No matter what, you are my wife. I’ll take good care of you from now on.” After the surgery, too weak to even sit up, I accidentally knocked over the soup Anna had supposedly made herself. For that, Mitte had me locked away in the old family estate to “reflect,” before I was even strong enough to get out of bed. If Anna hadn’t needed a womb, I doubt Mitte would have ever remembered I existed. “How could it be enough?” he scoffed now, then paused. “You are still my wife. Besides, Anna and I have already discussed it. If you feel uncomfortable, she’ll leave the country as soon as the baby is born and never come back.” “I won’t see them, either,” he added. “I’ll stay home with you, and we’ll raise our children together.” “Our children?” The idea was so ludicrous I had to laugh. “With my womb inside Anna, where exactly am I supposed to grow these children?” Mitte shot me a disdainful look. “Do you think Anna is as selfish as you? She said she’ll have two. One for us.” I looked over at Anna with a wry smile. She clung to Mitte’s arm, her expression soft and fragile. “Did I make Elara angry? Maybe… maybe we should just forget it.” “Ignore her,” Mitte snapped. “She forced you to leave the country once before and you never said a word of complaint. They say childbirth is like walking through the gates of hell. She gets to be a mother without any of the pain. She should be grateful, not angry.” “I made a sacred vow to your father on his deathbed that I would take care of you for life. Since you’ve decided not to marry and only want a child to keep you company, it’s my duty to make that happen.” Tears of gratitude welled in Anna’s eyes. The two of them were lost in their own world, their gazes locked in a tender, intimate embrace. But I had a job to do. I had no choice but to interrupt. “These are the gates of hell. You two are new arrivals. Please register here.” 2 The tenderness vanished from Mitte’s face, replaced by a simmering rage. “That’s enough, Elara. Anna’s health is fragile. Who are you trying to curse with that kind of morbid talk?” He glanced around, a smirk playing on his lips. “You hired quite a few people, didn’t you? It’s a convincing setup. Now, come with me. The operating room is prepped and ready. Don’t waste the doctors’ time.” He reached for my hand. In that flash of contact, I saw the last few hours of his life. After failing to find me, he had forced the butler to tell him where I was hiding. The old man sighed, his voice weary. “Ma’am is truly gone, sir. I handled her funeral myself, three years ago. If you don’t believe me, you can see for yourself at the monastery outside the city. Her ashes are kept there. She had no family, and without your permission, she couldn’t be interred in the Thorne family crypt. It was the only arrangement I could make.” “Enough of your lies! You tell Elara my mind is made up. If she doesn’t show herself, I’ll deal with an old fool like you, too.” He shoved the butler to the floor and sped towards the city outskirts. At the monastery, they immediately spotted the urn bearing my name. Ignoring the protests of a young monk, Mitte pried it open without hesitation. “It’s just ash from a fire pit,” Anna goaded from his side, fanning the flames of his anger. “To think she’d even deceive the church. Elara is determined to defy us to the very end, isn’t she?” Rage consumed him. Mitte tossed the contents of the urn into a nearby pond. He called his assistant, ordering him to hire every private investigator in the city to find me. “I don’t care if I have to dig up the entire country,” he seethed. “She will give you that womb.” He didn’t notice the triumphant smirk on Anna’s face behind him. Neither of them realized that just a few minutes later, their journey would end in the Netherworld. Seeing his disbelief, I grabbed a passing soul. “How did you die?” “Drowned while swimming in the river.” “Gas leak. Asphyxiated.” “I was too focused on my game… held my pee until my bladder burst. They couldn’t save me,” a young man behind them added with a grimace. “Hahaha!” Amidst the collective sighs of the dead, a jarring laugh rang out. “These actors are quite dedicated,” Anna giggled, nestled in Mitte’s arms. “They even have their lines down.” He looked at me with a cold smile. “And you? How did you die?” How I died. If he had lived just a little longer, he would have found out. Back then, I was thrown into the old estate while my wounds were still bleeding. The only people there were the old butler and the guards stationed to prevent my escape. The room was damp and cold. My surgical wound became infected. When the butler called Mitte, he’d snapped, “As long as Elara’s still breathing, don’t bother me. Let her learn some humility. It’s not like being a pampered wife is some great hardship.” I couldn’t get out, and no doctor could get in. The butler, helpless, could only buy some over-the-counter medicine and tend to my wounds himself. Day after agonizing day, my body wasted away. My organs began to fail. When I finally died, the butler called Mitte one last time. He was in the middle of throwing a lavish birthday party for Anna. “She’s always scheming for attention. Just hearing her name annoys me,” he’d muttered, blocking the estate’s number without a second thought. From that day on, he never heard another word about me. Mitte’s hands clenched into fists. He didn’t want to believe it, but a suffocating tightness gripped his chest. “Mitte, it’s not just me who’s dead. The two of you are dead as well. A car crash.” His pupils contracted. He snapped his head up, his eyes locking with mine. 3 “Mitte, darling, you don’t actually believe her nonsense, do you?” Before Mitte could answer, the Adjudicator floated over, holding a stack of files. Anna shrieked and buried her face in Mitte’s chest. “A ghost!” “What’s with all the screaming? Honestly, some of you newcomers take forever to accept reality,” the Adjudicator grumbled, handing the files to me. “Elara, you’ve accumulated enough merit. You have two choices: a promotion in rank, or reincarnation into a wealthy and powerful family. Of course, you could also give your chance to a newly deceased relative, allowing them to return to life. But it’s your merit to use. You might not get a chance this good again.” Shaken from his shock, Mitte asked the Adjudicator hesitantly, “Are we… really dead?” “Indeed. Though Elara has been here for three years. You two are fresh arrivals. Do you know each other?” “Yes,” Mitte said quickly. “I am her husband.” The Adjudicator eyed the clinging couple with suspicion, and Mitte hastily let go of Anna. “What you said just now… about a relative returning to life. Is that true?” “I don’t lie to the dead. Elara’s ancestors were people of great virtue, and she herself was a victim of malice. The Lord of this realm has granted her this opportunity to earn her way back to the living.” “Elara,” Mitte said, his voice dripping with affection. “What?” I took a wary step back. “You want to go back?” “How could you think so little of me? When have I ever put myself before you?” he explained, a wounded look on his face. “Please, could you give the chance to Anna? Let her go back. Consider it my way of repaying the debt I owe her father.” I refused without a moment’s hesitation. The story of his debt to his mentor was one he had drilled into my ears countless times. He was the illegitimate son of the Thorne family. After his mother was forced to her death, the killer came for him next. It was Anna’s father who saved him. Anna’s father was a widely respected professor. His reputation shielded Mitte from the wrath of the Thorne family’s matriarch, allowing him to grow up and eventually secure his inheritance. So, in his mind, his favoritism was justified. When he gave Anna extravagant gifts that crossed the line, my anger was just jealousy. When he abandoned me on the side of the road in a downpour to take Anna’s dog home, my accusations were just pettiness. When he said Anna’s health was poor, it became my duty to give up a kidney, and then my womb. His so-called debt of gratitude was paid entirely with pieces of me. And now, even in death, he wouldn’t let me be. “You’re as stubborn and ungrateful as ever,” Mitte said, his voice laced with disappointment. “If it weren’t for Anna’s father, I wouldn’t have survived. And without me, where would your precious status as Mrs. Thorne have come from?” Seeing that I was unmoved, he turned to the Adjudicator. “In life, she was a member of the Thorne family. Doesn’t that mean her merit and her opportunity belong to our family as well?” The Adjudicator mulled it over. “That’s not an entirely incorrect way of looking at it.” “Then, as the head of the Thorne family and Elara’s husband, I demand that this chance to return to life be given to Anna Vance.” I watched in shock as he lunged for the Ledger of Merits in my hands. In the struggle, the ledger fell, its pages scattering across the floor. As the Adjudicator helped pick them up, he glanced at a page. “Wait a minute. According to this, Elara was unmarried in her mortal life. She received no formal betrothal, nor was her name ever entered into your family’s official records. What kind of husband are you?” While he spoke, the Adjudicator pulled up Mitte’s mortal file. “The only wife you ever officially registered was named Anna Vance.” Mitte’s hands froze. He shot a furtive, guilty glance in my direction. “It was your fault,” he stammered, trying to explain. “You insisted on posting photos of my proposal on social media. Anna felt insecure. I had to do something to appease her.” 4 It was true. I had been a fool. The day Mitte proposed, I was ecstatic. I thought, He wasn’t lying. He really does love me, and Anna is just like a sister to him. I even chastised myself for my own paranoia. But half an hour later, Anna stormed into our engagement party and smashed a glass against my forehead without a word. On the way to the hospital, Mitte explained that she was just young and impulsive. As her future sister-in-law, I needed to be more tolerant. The doctor warned that I might have a concussion and needed to be monitored through the night. But Mitte left in a hurry in the middle of the night, not even bothering to arrange for a nurse. He returned the next afternoon with a beaming Anna by his side. Seeing the blood seeping through the bandages on my head, she offered only a feather-light “sorry.” And now I knew. Even that hollow apology was bought with a marriage certificate bearing my fiancé’s name and hers. “What about the marriage certificate from the day you forced me to donate my kidney?” I asked. “I… I had no choice. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Though I should have been numb to it by now, a bitter, pained laugh escaped me. In all our years together, all I ever warranted was a “desperate measure.” “Elara, even though I legally married Anna, you were still Mrs. Thorne in name. Everyone knew you as my wife. That’s a fact that can’t be changed. Once we send Anna back, you and I can be together, reunited as husband and wife, even here in the Netherworld.” I shook my head, the taste of ashes in my mouth. “Mitte, I am not your wife, and I don’t love you anymore. My seven years with you on earth… let’s just call it a trial I had to endure. From this moment on, we are strangers.” “Mitte, darling,” Anna whispered, tugging on his sleeve. “Does this mean Elara still hasn’t forgiven me? It’s okay. As long as I have you with me, I don’t care about life or death.” “Look at Anna, and then look at yourself,” Mitte spat at me. “You used to say you loved me. Did you love me, or my status? You know the answer. And what about me? Was the love I gave you worth nothing?” “Whether you see it as compensation or atonement, I don’t care. This chance must go to Anna.” Mitte lunged forward, snatching the Ledger of Merits and thrusting it at Anna. “Go. Quickly.” Anna scurried over to the Redemption Counter. “I want to return to the world of the living.” The attendant checked the amount of merit, then placed the Scale of Sins against her wrist. The moment it made contact, the Scale let out a piercing shriek. “Irredeemable sin. Condemned to the Abyss.” Thinking it was a mistake, the attendant tried again. The result was the same. His expression turned grim. He confiscated the Ledger and ordered the other attendants to restrain Anna. “A severe mismatch. Report this to the higher authorities immediately.” By then, the Adjudicator and I had arrived. “Why are you chaining her?” Mitte demanded, grabbing at the shackles on Anna. “I’m the one who took the ledger. If there’s a problem, deal with me.” “Anna is kind and gentle,” he insisted, glaring at me. “This must be Elara’s doing. You’re selfish and cruel, and now you’re framing Anna. I’m so disappointed in you. We don’t want your charity if you don’t agree, but—” He seemed to have a sudden realization and turned to the Adjudicator with renewed confidence. “While I was alive, I donated a great deal of money to a charity in Anna’s name. She used it all for good deeds. Even if she doesn’t deserve special treatment, it’s impossible for her to have committed any sins.” “The Scale of Sins does not make mistakes,” the Adjudicator stated flatly. “In that case, bring me the Life Record of this Anna Vance.” An attendant soon returned with a thick, heavy book. The Adjudicator’s face grew darker with every page he turned. “So, you’re the one who caused Elara’s death. And not just hers. You killed her child, too.” This time, it wasn’t just Mitte who was stunned. I was, too. “Lies! He’s slandering me! He’s in league with Elara!” Anna shrieked, struggling to reach Mitte. The guards held her fast. “Mitte, darling, you have to believe me!” “When did I have a child?” I asked the Adjudicator, my mind reeling. He laid the Life Record open before me. There, in stark, clear script, it read: “Sin Ninety-Eight: The murder of Elara’s unborn child.” “See? Even she doesn’t know!” Anna pleaded desperately. “I’m being framed! The records can’t be trusted!” Mitte, finally regaining his senses, turned his disbelief on me. “Elara, you were with another man?” “This is too complicated to explain,” the Adjudicator sighed. “Just watch.” With a wave of his hand, a scene materialized in the air.

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