1 Sailing in international waters to clear my head, I spotted my stepsister Luna trapped at a poker table. Opposite her stood the boys she’d grown up with, flanking a delicate girl, all wearing cold smirks. “What’s wrong, Miss Byrd? Can’t afford the bet?” Leo mocked. “You weren’t shy about demanding three million from Ava for a scarf.” “Fold if you want,” Caleb added calmly, “but hand over your 15% stake in the Byrd corporation to Ava by tomorrow.” Luna’s knuckles turned white, eyes red-rimmed. A man nearby laughed, loosening his tie. “Broke, little sister? Strip one item, I’ll give you five hundred in chips.” Whistles broke out. “Take it all off, and all my chips are yours!” From the upper deck’s shadows, I twisted the signet ring on my pinky. It’d been years since I showed my face here. They’d forgotten—though my sister bears her father’s name, she’s still a Frost. And those who touch a Frost girl pay with their lives. … My assistant beside me held his breath. “I’ll have the cruise director come and apologize to you at once, ma’am,” he whispered. I gazed down at the table, my voice arctic. “Not yet. Let’s see what kind of game they’re playing.” To make a move on my family, right under my nose? No one on this ship was getting off alive. Leo smirked at Luna, who was now encircled by leering men. “What’s the matter, Luna? Scared to undress? I’ve got some… private photos of you right here. How about we sell a set? Add a little to your pot?” Before he finished speaking, he’d tossed a USB drive to the staff. The next second, the massive screen above the table lit up. A high-definition photo of my sister, her clothes half-removed in a suggestive pose, flashed across the screen. “The great Miss Byrd always acts so pure,” someone jeered. “But look at the body on her under those clothes!” “I’m getting ideas and she’s not even naked yet. If she was, I think I’d die right on top of her!” Before the foul commentary could die down, Caleb tossed another USB drive onto the table with a cold smile. “I’ve got more. If you won’t trade your clothes for chips, I’ll help you out. I’ll add another bet for you!” The crowd roared its approval, the atmosphere heating up. “Our young masters are so generous! What a feast for the eyes!” Luna was trembling, tears streaming down her face. “We grew up together… How could you do this to me?” “Crying now, are we?” Leo sneered. “Where was this pathetic act when you were forcing Ava to pay up for that scarf?” “We’re trying to help you raise money, you ungrateful bitch!” Caleb added. “The scarf… she ruined it on purpose!” Luna retorted, her voice cracking. “My sister bought that for me…” At the mention of this, the girl named Ava, nestled between the two men, suddenly dropped to her knees, her face a mask of tears. “Luna, I know I was wrong! I’ve already bet myself in this game! Please, have mercy, don’t raise the bet again! Just let me go!” Leo slammed his hands on the table. “Luna, are you going to use your money to bully Ava to death before you’re satisfied?” Caleb yanked Ava up from the floor and pulled her into his arms. “You dare bully her right in front of us? Then don’t blame us for being ruthless!” Ava whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t blame my sister. It’s my fault for making her unhappy.” She turned to Luna, a glint of steel in her eyes. “My sister is out of money. I heard she’s working eight jobs a day just to eat. As long as she folds this hand, I’ll let this go.” I almost laughed out loud. Looking at the chips on the table, I could see my sister had already bet her entire net worth, including the private shares our grandfather had given her. If she folded now, she’d be left with nothing but crippling debt. My gaze locked on Ava. She was wearing the custom gown I’d had made for Luna. The Patek Philippe on her wrist was a gift from me to my sister. Even the emerald necklace my mother had left for Luna was hanging around her neck. And my own sister was in faded, worn-out clothes, a patch visible on the cuff of her pants. When had my sister—Seraphina Frost’s sister—been brought so low? Luna bit her lip so hard it nearly bled, tears carving paths down her pale cheeks. She looked like she was about to collapse. It seemed what Ava said was true. “Investigate,” I commanded in a sharp, low voice. My assistant immediately understood and slipped away. I’d been expanding the family business overseas for years, with little time to come home. But I called Luna every month. How had I not noticed a single thing was wrong? Luna suddenly looked up, her voice shattered. “Why? We were friends our whole lives. And you’re using photos you secretly took of me as betting chips?” Leo toyed with his chips, sneering. “If you don’t like it, then fold. Give it all to Ava as your apology.” Caleb didn’t even bother to look up. “Cut the crap. Either trade for the chips, or go over there and sell yourself. Strip. Now.” A chorus of vile shouts erupted. “Do it, princess!” “Sleep with me for one night, and I’ll cover your bet!” Luna was trapped, shaking uncontrollably. Just as everyone thought she was about to break, she snapped her head up, a desperate, defiant light in her eyes. “I’m all in.” The hall fell silent. 2 I froze for a second, my fingertips unconsciously tapping against the railing. I knew my sister’s assets down to the last cent. Everything she owned was already on that table. A pang of raw pain shot through me as I looked at her thin, fragile frame. Her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone, frantically switching between more than a dozen loan apps. After a full hour, she barely managed to scrape together a hundred thousand dollars. “That’s it?” Caleb scoffed, slamming his glass down. “Ava spends more than that on a spa day.” Ava covered her mouth with a delicate hand, a sweet smile playing on her lips. “Just give up, sister. I’ll be merciful and let you go.” Leo shoved a mountain of chips into the center of the table. “I’ll see your bet, and I’ll raise you double!” The color drained from Luna’s face. “Seeing as you’re so desperate for cash, let me help you out again…” Caleb pressed a button on a remote, and the giant screen flared to life once more. This time, it was a deepfake video. My sister’s face had been flawlessly edited onto another woman’s body. The movements were lewd, the sounds obscene. It was horrifyingly convincing. “That voice… it’s driving me wild. I’m hard already.” “What do you expect from an heiress? She knows how to perform in bed!” “I’ll pay two million for the full collection!” Luna shot to her feet. She was trembling from head to toe, staring in utter disbelief at the two boys she once called her friends. But their eyes were only for Ava, as they gently draped a coat over her shoulders. “Turn it off! Turn it off now!” Luna shrieked. But her voice was swallowed by the frenzied bidding. A waiter bowed, holding out a tablet. “Miss Byrd, would you like to sell the distribution rights to the video?” “Otherwise,” he added coolly, “you can either raise the bet or fold.” Luna’s face was ashen. She covered her face with her hands and began to sob. “I… I really have nothing left…” The men around her stared with greedy eyes, like a pack of wolves circling their dying prey, waiting for the moment she surrendered to tear her apart. My knuckles were white. I was about to stand up. But then I saw Luna, her hands shaking, pull a dull, gray stone from the pocket of her worn-out coat. She placed it carefully on the waiter’s tray. “Trade this… for chips.” A wave of laughter exploded through the room. Ava was bent over, howling with mirth. “Oh my god! Has my sister gone completely insane? Did she just pick up a rock off the ground and try to trade it for chips?” The waiter respectfully carried the stone away. Less than three minutes later, he returned, pushing a cart neatly stacked with five million dollars in chips. “Your chips, Miss Byrd.” The hall went dead silent. Ava’s smile vanished. “That piece of junk is worth five million?!” Leo shot to his feet. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Caleb kicked over a chair. “Get the appraiser out here! Now!” 3 I narrowed my eyes, my fingertips drumming lightly on the armrest. That wasn’t just any stone. That was the private seal of the Frost family. A single impression from that seal could mobilize ten million dollars in assets. Luna would never have used it unless she was pushed to the absolute edge. And these idiots… they only valued it at five million? The cruise ship’s owner was now kneeling before me, trembling so hard that beads of sweat dripped onto the carpet. He didn’t dare wipe them away. Down below, chaos had erupted. “It has been authenticated,” the manager’s voice shook. “This is the private seal of the Frost family from the capital. Its value is ten million dollars. We have exchanged it for five million in chips.” “The Frost family?” someone gasped. “Are these kids insane? Who dares to cross the Frosts?” At the mention of our family name, Ava’s eyes suddenly turned red. “Grandfather Frost has been gravely ill for a long time. My father gave me everything he had to help…” She turned to my sister. “Luna, I even sold my kidney! I really have no more money. We’re sisters, why must we tear each other apart like this? We’re just making a spectacle of ourselves for others.” The wine glass in my hand shattered. Sisters? My assistant leaned in and whispered, “Ava is the illegitimate daughter Mr. Byrd officially recognized six months ago. He even had a DNA test done. He dotes on her.” Fine. Wonderful. Marcus Byrd, you’ve really outdone yourself. I’m gone for a few years, and you dare pull a stunt like this behind my back? You must think I’ve gone soft. I’ll deal with him when I get back. Right now, my sister is the priority. Leo’s face was flush with anger. “Luna, since you insist on being so heartless, don’t blame us for what comes next.” “We’ll match it! Five million!” Leo slammed his hands on the table, only to be told he didn’t have enough chips. He and Caleb exchanged a look, then, through gritted teeth, they put up their own family’s corporate shares. “Double it!” They shoved the chips in front of Ava. “Let’s see you match that!” Ava smiled triumphantly, silently mouthing to my sister: You’re finished. Luna was shaking, the last bit of color draining from her face, leaving only raw despair. Double the bet was ten million. That move had cut off every possible escape route. If she folded, she would not only lose everything on the table, but she wouldn’t even be able to leave this ship in one piece. But she had nothing left to bet. A man shamelessly reached for my sister. “Come on, beautiful. Just sell the photos and the video. You’ll have your chips then, won’t you?” “You’re disgusting!” Luna slapped his hand away. “Bitch!” the man snarled. “You’ll be begging me later!” Caleb toyed with his chips, a cruel smile on his face. “Want to keep going? Then double the bet again.” Ava finally dropped her innocent act, her eyes glittering with venom. “Sell your body, sister. It’s… still worth something, I suppose.” A dozen men closed in, their eyes slick and predatory like snakes. They rubbed their hands together, chanting, “Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip!” “I’ll sign the organ donation contract.” Luna’s voice was a whisper, but it landed like a thunderclap. The entire hall was stunned. “Is she crazy?” “This girl’s got guts! She’s willing to bet her own life!” “Is her body even worth twenty million?” Ava shrieked with laughter. “Sister, what are you thinking? Even if you sold every single part of you, you wouldn’t be worth twenty million!” Before her words faded, a waiter appeared, pushing a cart with twenty million dollars in chips. An uproar swept through the hall. Everyone was shouting in protest. “This is rigged!” “I’m in my prime, and they only valued me at five hundred thousand! How is she worth twenty million?” “If we don’t get an explanation, we’re sinking this damn ship!”

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Serena Shen was, by law, my older sister. She was supposed to hate me. I was the other woman’s daughter. I stole her father. Then, on the day of her engagement party, I slept with her fiancé. I forced her to flee the country. She didn’t return until three years after my death. By then, she was a world-renowned pianist, dating the most sought-after man in the capital. While she moved through parties, a vision of grace and laughter, my bones lay scattered in a dog kennel, gnawed and forgotten. Covered in teeth marks. My soul follows Serena now, watching her search for any trace of me. She will never find me. Because three years ago, I decided to die in her place. 1 Serena searched the entire Shen estate, but there was nothing of me left. Not a single trace. She kicked a table in frustration, a storm brewing within her. It used to be that before she even stepped through the front door, she could hear my forced, theatrical laughter as I chatted with the maids. The moment she entered, she’d see the new gifts I’d deliberately left strewn across the tables, just to show them off. Now, the house was silent, scrubbed clean of my presence. Serena found it unsettling. She rubbed her temples, pushing the thought of me away. She pasted on a smile and turned to face the guests who had been waiting for her. “Serena, you’ve grown even more beautiful! I hear they’re calling you the ‘Maestro of Beauty’ online.” “The wedding must be soon, right? Serena and Mr. Sterling make such a perfect couple. You have to let me be a bridesmaid!” “Serena, for old times’ sake, could I get an autograph? My daughter saw a video of your competition and she’s absolutely obsessed. We have posters of you all over her wall.” I floated silently above, watching Serena maintain her flawless composure, navigating the sea of flattery. It was just like high school. Wherever Serena Shen went, she was the center of the universe. People associated her with perfection, elegance, beauty, ambition. Looking at those fawning classmates surrounding her, a bitter thought crossed my mind. I was a center of attention in high school, too. What did they say when they mentioned my name? The other woman’s daughter. 36D. Slut. Whore. Bitch. Serena, though… Serena was a good person. The only one in the entire school who didn’t look at me through a filter of contempt. The first clean, even fragrant, sanitary pad I ever used was one she lent me. Back then, I used to think, I wish I was Serena’s real sister. Then I could be closer to her. And then, as fate would have it, I became her goddamn sister. My mother was the mistress her father kept on the side. Isn’t life funny? From that day on, our fates were tangled together. In that cold house, we only had each other to lean on. And we only had each other to hate. 2 The thought darkened my spectral form. A classmate standing near Serena shivered, sneezing several times in a row. After finally escaping her old acquaintances, Serena was about to leave when a nervous voice called out to her. It was Leo Vance. He stared at her, his eyes filled with a raw, unabashed awe. “Serena… you’re so beautiful.” “If I hadn’t been seduced by that slut Stella, if I hadn’t made that mistake…” “Would you be marrying me right now?” I rolled my eyes, even in ghost form. If Serena hadn’t been engaged to him, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance. The noisy crowd fell silent. Everyone exchanged awkward glances. The class president tried to laugh it off. “Wow, this wine is strong! Even Leo’s drunk.” Leo shoved him away. “Cut the crap,” he snarled. “If you hadn’t been the one leading the discussion in the dorms about Stella’s ‘perfect body,’ would I have even noticed her enough to dump Serena?” The class president’s face flushed red, then went pale. All eyes in the room shifted to him, a silent judgment passing. So the quiet, respectable class president is like that in private. But then they remembered the object of his supposed fantasies was me, and a knowing, shared smirk spread through the group. I’d seen that smile a thousand times. I could scream back at those who insulted me. I could fight back against those who harassed me. But this silent, secret malice… it left me helpless. Every time we had to run laps in gym class, a group of boys would gather with their basketballs, just watching me, laughing. They’d whisper. They’d point. If you confronted them, they’d just call you conceited. I wanted to carve the flesh from my own chest, then slice the tongues from their mouths. 3 At Leo’s words, Serena bristled like an angry cat. Her eyes swept over the men with their disgusting smiles. “No matter what you think of her, Stella is my sister. How dare you speak of her that way in front of me?” “And as for you, Leo,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “If my father hadn’t introduced us, I wouldn’t have wasted a single glance on you.” “Only a fool like Stella would have been attracted to you.” Leo started to speak, but Serena cut him off, her voice laced with venom. “No, that’s not right. Stella probably wasn’t attracted to you at all.” “She just likes taking my things.” “From my jewelry to my men, Stella wants everything that’s mine.” “The only thing that made you special in her eyes was the fact that you were my fiancé.” “Without that, she wouldn’t have even known you existed.” I cackled from my perch in the air. Serena, my dear sister, you knew me so well. I was only ever interested in what was yours. Leo, furious, took a step forward to argue, but a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He looked up into the cold, unsmiling face of Liam Sterling. The heir to the Sterling fortune lived up to his reputation. A single glare was enough to make Leo bow his head and stammer an apology. He looked familiar, though. I felt like I’d seen him somewhere before. Probably in a file when I was looking for a powerful man to take me in. I shook my head, focusing on the matter at hand, leaning over Serena’s shoulder to offer my own critique of Leo. Average looks, thick skin. If Dad hadn’t set you up with my sister, I wouldn’t have bothered with you either. But, Serena, you don’t know, do you? This time, I was saving you. Looking at Serena’s distant, cold expression, I couldn’t help but wonder: When she finds out that I, the sister who spent her life competing with her, died for her, will she still be able to wear that mask of proud indifference? 4 This party for Serena was truly grand. The old me would have seen it and thrown a fit, demanding my father host one for me, even bigger and more extravagant than hers. Not anymore. Being a ghost is good. Floating in the air, you see things for what they really are. This wasn’t a welcome-home party. This was a product showcase. My father smiled, presenting Serena to the city’s most influential figures, parading her around like a rare commodity. I was certain that if it weren’t for Liam Sterling’s immense family wealth, those powerful men would have been the potential husbands my father had lined up for her tonight. Oh, Serena. You were so lucky. Three years ago, I shielded you from this. Three years later, Liam Sterling is shielding you. Father raised you well. You know right from wrong, good from evil. So what will you do when you find out that your father not only killed your mother but also had your sister killed? Sister, will you avenge me? Was this all just my fate? The party ended. Serena asked our father where I was. He paused. His eyes filled with disgust, as if she’d mentioned something filthy. “Don’t bring up that ungrateful girl. You know what your sister is like.” “She’s probably shacked up with some man again.” I looked at my father, at his calm face tinged with revulsion, and felt nothing. My dear father. Why won’t you tell my sister that I’m dead? On the day I died, you accepted a great deal of benefits with a completely straight face. That fool, Serena, didn’t question it. She just turned and went upstairs. Before closing her door, she glanced back at him. “Tomorrow is Mom’s death anniversary.” In her room, she pulled out a Polaroid we had taken together. Two young girls, smiling brightly for the camera. Seeing it, I was stunned. I thought she would have torn it up long ago. When we took that photo, I didn’t know my mother was her father’s mistress. I was just grateful to Serena for defending me when I was accused of stealing money. During a school trip, I’d earned sixty dollars washing dishes and used it to pay someone to take two Polaroids of us together. I taped my copy to my desk. It was like my good luck charm. No one wanted to cross Serena Shen. So when they saw that picture, their malice towards me would instinctively recede. When I got home, I showed the photo to my mother. And it was that photo that plunged both Serena and me into hell. 5 My mother, Maria, was a young and beautiful woman. She always said calling her “Mom” made her feel old, so I should call her Maria. She was brave enough to take me into the fields to catch frogs and fierce enough to curse out other parents for me. I loved her very much. But maybe it was because I secretly called her Mom in my heart, she aged quickly. Maria had a deep reverence for education. She always talked about what would have happened if she’d stayed in college. As a child, I thought she was just bragging. If she was really top of her class in high school, how could she be so poor now? So poor that she would stare at a pair of discounted gloves in the winter for so long the shopkeeper would have to ask her to move, only for her to look at her own red, swollen hands and decide she could endure it until spring. Years later, I finally understood. I was the greatest misfortune of Maria’s life. Her springtime ended forever at eighteen. After that, there was only winter. While I was being bullied at school for my developing body, Maria was enduring the torment of a terminal illness. The day after seeing that Polaroid, she went to Mrs. Shen and confessed everything. Mrs. Shen was a kind woman. She brought me into the Shen home, made sure I was fed and clothed, and used the family’s influence to deal with the bullies who had tormented me. On the first day of my new, better life, Maria committed suicide by taking sleeping pills. She had cancer and couldn’t afford the treatment. She used her own terminal diagnosis to buy me a place in the Shen family. The sleeping pills were the most expensive meal 34-year-old Maria ever had. In her suicide note, she told me to live a good life, to not be a mistress like her. She said she would be watching over me from heaven. The only thing she left me was a savings book with a balance of $34,682.34. Maria had taken care of everyone. Everyone except herself. The memories wrapped around me. I was a ghost, yet I felt a pain so sharp I couldn’t breathe. Did I fail to listen to her? Is that why I can’t even enter the cycle of reincarnation to see her again? Is that why I’m doomed to float by Serena’s side as a ghost? Ghosts don’t dream. I haven’t seen Maria in two years. Serena raised her hand, about to rip the Polaroid in two. But in the end, her eyes red, she placed it on the very bottom shelf of her bookcase. The day I lost my mother, Serena lost her father. After being exposed, Mr. Shen began to openly parade his mistresses. I became twisted with hatred. The Shen family had taken my only mother from me. So I poured all my hate onto Serena. I started to take her things, openly and secretly. Her jewelry, her admirers. Anything she had, I had to have. Until, one year later, on the very same day, Serena lost her mother. Serena should have hated me. But instead, she saved me. Again and again. 6 The day after her return, Serena drove with Liam to visit her mother’s grave. The headstone was pristine compared to the others, as if someone cleaned it regularly. Serena sat before the grave with a bouquet of flowers, murmuring about her years abroad. Liam stood silently beside her, holding an umbrella over her head. In a place they couldn’t see, I knelt and kowtowed twice to Mrs. Shen’s grave. Thank you for taking care of me in your home. By dying for Serena, I hope I have repaid your kindness. When Serena left, I floated along behind her. Halfway out of the cemetery, she suddenly stopped.

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1 My brother and I were transported into one of those trashy, high-society romance novels. When our mission was over, I chose to leave. He, however, had fallen for the story’s obsessive female lead and decided to stay for her. Eight years later, the System informed me that she had thrown him into a psychiatric hospital. He had three days left to live. When I arrived, he was strapped to a hospital bed, his eyes vacant, muttering my name over and over again. Meanwhile, his loving CEO wife was planning a wedding of the century with her one true love, the male lead. I looked at my brother’s hands—hands that once commanded a grand piano—and saw nothing but a horrifying tapestry of track marks. “You came… I knew you’d come…” He strained, turning his head with the last ounce of his strength. “I was such a fool. I thought my devotion, my presence, was the ultimate declaration of love. But I was just a stepping stone for her.” “Take me home, Raymond. I don’t want to die here…” “Roberta…” My voice was a raw, trembling whisper. “Of course. We’re going home.” Blinking back the hot tears that threatened to spill, I forced a broken smile onto my face. “I’m here to take you home!” His clouded eyes shifted, as if he was trying to smile back, but only a single, rigid muscle in his cheek twitched. “Raymond… Raymond…” His voice was so faint I could barely hear it, each word a final, desperate gasp of life. My hands trembled as I reached for the leather restraints digging into his wrists. They were embedded so deeply into his flesh that dark, crusted scabs had formed around them. A doctor in a white coat entered, his face a mask of indifference. He shot me a cold look. “Who are you? Visiting hours are over.” I snapped my head around, the ice in my eyes making him flinch and take an involuntary step back. “What did you do to him?” The doctor adjusted his glasses, reciting a rehearsed, clinical line. “The patient suffers from severe delusions and exhibits violent tendencies. These are necessary protective measures.” “His legal guardian signed the consent forms. All treatments are administered in accordance with hospital policy.” Guardian? That monster, Seraphina Vance? My gaze fell back to Roberta. I gently pushed up the sleeve of his worn hospital gown. The hands that once danced across ivory keys, weaving the world’s most beautiful melodies, were now just a skeletal ruin of bruised skin and puncture wounds, new marks layered over old. There wasn’t an inch of undamaged skin. “Does it hurt?” I choked out the words. He didn’t seem to hear me. He just stared at me, his lips moving soundlessly. “She’s getting married… It’s all over the news… Her and Liam. They look so perfect together…” “Don’t say another word!” I cut him off, my voice sharp, my heart shattering into a million pieces. The doctor knocked impatiently on the doorframe. “Ms. Vance gave specific instructions not to agitate him. Sir, you need to leave. Now.” I ignored him, leaning in close to whisper in Roberta’s ear. “Roberta, hang on. I’m getting you out of here.” “We’ll go back to our own world. There’s no Seraphina, no Liam. Just us.” “I even booked you a world tour. Your fans, they’re all waiting for you.” At the mention of the piano, a flicker of light sparked in his empty eyes, only to be extinguished a moment later. “My hands… they’re ruined…” he mumbled. “They give me injections… shock therapy… My mind… it’s not right anymore. I can’t remember the music…” I bit down on my lip so hard that the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. I couldn’t cry. Roberta needed me to be strong. “It’s okay. I’ll remember for you,” I said, clutching his ice-cold hand. “I don’t care about any of that. I just need you to live. Let’s go home, okay?” “Okay… home…” The last flicker of light in his eyes died out. His head lolled to the side, coming to rest on my shoulder. In that instant, the world went silent. The only person I had ever cared for, my only anchor in this universe, had died so quietly in my arms. And at that very moment, on the other side of the city, Seraphina Vance was throwing a lavish engagement party for the love of her life. The television showed her radiant face, her smile full of adoration as she stood beside Liam, a picture-perfect couple. They were celebrating. I held Roberta’s cooling body and a slow, cold smile spread across my face. You dragged him through hell? Then I’ll turn this world into your own personal inferno. The Vance Corporation’s engagement party of the century was held at the most exclusive seven-star hotel on the bay. The ballroom glittered with high society, a sea of couture gowns and expensive champagne. Seraphina, draped in a bespoke gown, gracefully accepted the endless stream of congratulations. Beside her, Liam wore a pristine white suit, his smile as pure and innocent as a prince from a fairy tale. “Seraphina, thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Liam said softly, his eyes brimming with love. She gazed back at him, her voice thick with affection. “For you, my darling, anything is worth it.” BOOM! The grand, gilded doors of the ballroom burst open with a deafening bang. Every head turned. I stood in the doorway, dressed in a stark black suit that was a stark contrast to the festive opulence of the room. My expression was darker than the suit I wore, my gaze a dagger aimed straight at the couple on the dais. “Raymond?!” Seraphina’s eyes widened, her pupils contracting in shock the moment she recognized me. So, she remembered. Eight years ago, Roberta and I appeared in her life together. But I had chosen to leave. Liam clutched Seraphina’s arm, affecting a look of startled vulnerability. “Seraphina, who is this gentleman…?” “Who are you? Who let you in? Security!” Seraphina’s assistant immediately stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. A team of guards quickly moved to surround me, ready to drag me out. I swept a cold glance over them and uttered a single word. “Leave.” The hulking guards, professionals trained for violence, were frozen by the sheer menace in my eyes. They hesitated, suddenly unwilling to touch me. I began to walk, my leather shoes clicking with sharp, deliberate taps against the marble floor as I advanced toward the stage. “I brought you a gift, Seraphina.” With that, I reached into my suit jacket and produced a small, simple urn. I placed it gently on the crimson-draped table. The stark white of the box was a glaring wound against the sea of festive red. “You lunatic! You’re insane!” Seraphina’s face turned ashen. She swiped the urn off the table, sending it crashing to the floor. The ashes within spilled out across the pristine marble. “Ah!” Liam cried out, his face pale as he scrambled to hide behind Seraphina. My eyes fixed on the gray dust on the floor, and a hot, red wave of fury washed over me. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice a low growl, each word forced through clenched teeth. “You personally shoved Roberta into hell. And now you shatter even the last peace he had left?” “What nonsense are you spouting?!” she shrieked. “Roberta had a psychotic break! His death has nothing to do with me!” “Nothing to do with you?” I laughed, a sound devoid of any humor. “Eight years of his life, paving your way to the top, deflecting every corporate attack aimed at you, taking all the blame for your dirty work. And his reward? You label him a madman?” “You locked him away in that hellhole, torturing him with drugs and electroshock day after day. You destroyed his hands, shattered his mind, all to make room for your precious boy toy!” My voice rose with every word, each syllable a sledgehammer blow landing on the hearts of the listening guests. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The looks directed at Seraphina and Liam began to shift, filled with suspicion and dawning horror. “Lies! All of it!” Seraphina was losing control. “Get this maniac out of my sight! Throw him out!” This time, the guards charged. A predatory gleam entered my eyes. I sidestepped their clumsy rush, a blur of motion. In the split second of their confusion, I moved. A swift wrist-lock, a clean takedown. In less than ten seconds, all four guards were writhing on the floor, groaning in pain. The ballroom fell into a stunned, dead silence. No one had expected this slender man to possess such terrifying skill. I turned my attention back to Seraphina, a chilling smile playing on my lips. “Seraphina. And you, Liam…” I pointed a finger at them, sealing their fate. “I will not only ruin you, leave you with nothing… I will make you feel every ounce of the agony Roberta endured.” “And I will make you kneel at his grave and beg for a forgiveness you’ll never receive until the day you die!” The engagement party was a disaster. Seraphina and Liam became the laughingstock of the city. The next day, the Vance Corporation’s PR machine went into overdrive. The internet was flooded with stories designed to discredit me. [Mysterious Man Crashes High-Profile Engagement, Spurned Ex-Lover Suspected?] [Insider Reveals: Man Identified as Raymond Croft Has Family History of Mental Illness. Ms. Vance’s Compassion Was Her Undoing.] [Raymond Croft: The Man Who Vanished Eight Years Ago. A Troubled Past, A Violent Present.] They were painting me as the lunatic, framing Roberta’s death as the inevitable outcome of his own fragile mind. Public opinion began to sway, and sympathy started pouring in for the “victims,” Seraphina and Liam. Liam even gave a tearful interview, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with sorrow. “I… I don’t know Mr. Croft, and I don’t understand why he harbors such animosity towards me. As for Roberta… my heart breaks for him. Seraphina did so much for him over the years. We all just wanted him to get better…” What a perfect, pitiful performance. A true wolf in sheep’s clothing. In her office, Seraphina scrolled through the comments online, a sliver of relief easing the tension in her face. “Where is Raymond Croft now?” she asked her assistant. “We can’t find him. It’s like he vanished into thin air. He’s not on any surveillance footage, no digital footprint, nothing.” Seraphina’s brow furrowed again. The man had been an enigma eight years ago; now, he was an unfathomable phantom. “Find him. I don’t care what it takes.” She had no idea I hadn’t gone anywhere. At that very moment, I was sitting in a quiet café, my fingers flying across the keyboard of my laptop. On the screen, cascading lines of code flowed like a waterfall. “You want to play the media game?” I murmured to myself, my eyes cold with contempt. “Then let’s see how you handle a real storm.” At three o’clock that afternoon, the Vance Corporation held an emergency press conference. Seraphina and Liam sat side-by-side, ready to play the victims for a national audience and scrub their reputations clean. “Regarding the recent rumors, I would like to clarify…” Seraphina began. Suddenly, every screen in the conference hall—the massive displays, the reporters’ laptops, their phones—flickered and changed. A high-definition video began to play. The scene was a hallway in the psychiatric hospital. In the grainy footage, Liam was speaking to a doctor, his face twisted with malice. “Up the dosage. I want him to be a drooling vegetable, incapable of a single coherent thought.” The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Sterling, at this rate, the patient could die.” Liam sneered. “Even better. A clean slate. The man of the Vance family can only be me, Liam Sterling. That worthless piece of trash, Roberta Croft? He was never worthy.” The scene cut. Now, it was a conversation between Liam and Roberta. “Don’t blame me, Roberta,” Liam said, a sickly sweet smile on his face. “You just got in my way. Seraphina has always loved me. You were just the stepping stone she needed for her career. Now that she’s on top, it’s time for that stone to be kicked aside.” In the video, Roberta struggled, shouting in protest, but two orderlies pinned him down, forcing him into the electroshock therapy room. His agonized screams echoed through the speakers, filling the press conference with a sound of pure horror. The reporters went wild. A blinding storm of camera flashes erupted, all aimed at the blood-drained faces on the stage. “No… that’s not real! It’s a fake! It’s been doctored!” Liam shrieked, his composure completely shattered. Seraphina was stunned into silence, staring at the venomous man on the screen, unable to reconcile him with the pure, innocent angel she thought she loved. The video ended with a final message from me, my voice a cold, synthesized tone that chilled the room to the bone: “Did you see that, Seraphina? That is the man you swore to protect for the rest of your life. You’re not just blind, you’re blind to the core. Consider this my first gift. You should be excited. The real show is just getting started.”

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Liam lost his memory. He’s stuck at nineteen—the year he was the biggest jerk I knew. When I went to see him, he looked at me like I was a complete stranger, his eyes cold and distant. “Wife? You’ve gotta be kidding me. No way I’m married!” Seeing how much he resisted the idea, I figured it was best to leave for now. But after that one meeting, he started showing up everywhere I went, a dozen times a day, always claiming it was a coincidence. A month later, he was proudly showing my number to his friends. They were floored. “Wait, dude… you’ve been busting your ass for a month just to get your own wife’s phone number?” 1 The moment I heard about Liam’s car accident, I booked the first flight back. When I got to the hospital, he was already asleep. The doctor said it was nothing life-threatening, just a concussion that had triggered a temporary amnesia. As for how temporary… it could be a month, a year or two, or even longer. His memory was frozen at nineteen. Back when he was an absolute nightmare. His friends warned me that he had no memory of our marriage and that it would take time for him to accept it. I was prepared for that. After all, he hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he first found out he had to marry me. He wasn’t as hostile as he was now, but he was still ice-cold. Forcing a nineteen-year-old mind to accept the reality of a wife was, admittedly, a tall order. I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll come back tomorrow. Just give me a call when he wakes up.” “You got it, Mia.” The next day, the call didn’t come from Chris or the guys. It came from the hospital. “Ms. Evans? We were wondering if you could contact your husband. We’ve searched the entire hospital, but we can’t find him. The security cameras in the hallways didn’t catch him leaving, either.” There was a pause. “We think he might have climbed out the window.” My breath caught in my throat. It was hard to imagine the composed man I’d been married to for years doing something so reckless. I’d heard stories that the twenty-nine-year-old Liam was a world away from his nineteen-year-old self, but I never imagined the difference was this stark. After leaving my office, I called Chris. He told me that after his great escape, Liam had gone straight to a private lounge to meet them. When I arrived, they were all in a private room, with Liam forcing drinks on them. “Liam, man, I really can’t drink anymore.” “Me neither, dude. I quit drinking years ago.” “You should slow down too, Liam. Mia’s gonna have our heads for this.” “Yeah, seriously. It’s been a day. She’s probably worried sick.” … Liam just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Mia this, Mia that. Nice try, guys. Just another excuse to get out of drinking with me.” Chris looked like he was about to cry. “Liam, do you really not remember you have a wife?” “Cut the crap. Marriage is for suckers. Why would I ever give up my freedom like that? Besides, guys who are whipped have no spine!” In Liam’s mind, Chris was still the rich kid who’d pull pranks on him, so of course, he didn’t believe a word. The sound of the door opening was lost in the thumping bass of the music. Chris was the first to see me standing in the doorway. A chill ran down his spine, and he shot up straight. “Liam, dude, you gotta stop talking.” Just then, I walked into the room and picked up a bottle from the table. Everyone, except Liam, sat bolt upright. Liam leaned back against the sofa, looking up at me with annoyance. “Don’t the servers here know how to knock?” His words trailed off the second he saw my face. Our eyes met, and suddenly he was fumbling with his tie and shirt, first buttoning the top two buttons of his collar, then deciding against it and unbuttoning them again. He even tugged the collar down a bit, just enough to hint at the lean muscle of his chest. Nineteen-year-old Liam was quite the show-off. Chris and the others, unable to watch him dig his own grave any deeper, were about to say something, but a single glare from me silenced them. As I turned to leave, I heard a collective sigh of relief from inside the room. “Dude, why is your face so red?” Liam sounded personally offended. “Me? Red? No way!” Luke, ever the dense one, immediately turned on his phone’s front-facing camera. “It is, man! It’s super red. Don’t tell me you know she’s—” “Ahem.” Chris cut him off with a sharp cough. They were all more scared of me than they were of Liam. “Must be something in this booze,” Liam grumbled, picking up his glass only to slam it back down. “I’m done. Going home.” 2 Of course, the “home” Liam was talking about wasn’t the one we shared. He went back to his parents’ old estate and, unable to get the door open, hopped the fence to get in. He was nearly mistaken for a burglar. Luckily, the security guard had good eyes. Liam was unharmed, but he did manage to wake up his two parents, both well into their sixties. “You little brat! What are you doing here in the middle of the night? Trying to dig up your ancestors’ graves?” “Oh, honey, you’re forgetting. Our son is supposed to be in the hospital. He had an accident, lost his memory. He probably doesn’t even remember his own home.” “Ah, right you are. You little punk! Forgetting Mia, of all people. You’ve got some nerve!” Liam’s father snatched a feather duster from a nearby vase and went straight for his son’s behind. The twenty-nine-year-old Liam probably would have taken the hit. But the nineteen-year-old Liam knew exactly how to dodge his father’s wrath. He scrambled up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door shut. “Mia, Lia, whatever! Are you trying to set me up with another engagement? You tried to sell me off to some heiress when I was nineteen, remember? I can’t believe you’re still trying to pull this crap now that I’m twenty-nine!” His father roared from the bottom of the stairs, “You ungrateful, irresponsible punk! I wish you’d just stay away from Mia and stop wasting her time!” Liam just scoffed. “Fine by me.” That night, my best friend Sophia came over to keep me company and, more importantly, to rage on my behalf. “You should just tell him the truth, you know? For all we know, the little jerk is faking this whole amnesia thing!” she declared. “Or better yet, let’s go over to his parents’ place right now, stuff him in a sack, and beat some sense into him!” It would be a lie to say I wasn’t angry. My perfectly good husband was out all night, insisting he was single and acting like marrying me was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. “But seriously,” Sophia said, her tone softening, “what if he never gets his memory back? Are you two just going to stay like this forever?” “If he really never remembers,” I said darkly, “then I’ll just have to stuff him in a sack and lock him in the house.” 3 Work was slow the next day, so I agreed to help Sophia out at her newly opened bakery. I’d just arrived when Liam’s mom called. “Mia, sweetie, there’s something I think you should know,” she said, her voice a hushed whisper. “This morning, I saw Liam leaving the house dressed… well, exceptionally flashy. He even used hair gel and cologne. I’m worried he’s—” The door creaked open, and in walked Liam. It was the grand opening, and the bakery was crowded, but he stood out immediately. It was impossible to miss him. He was wearing baggy jeans with about five too many pockets, a loose black t-shirt, and a thick silver chain around his neck. He was dressed like he’d just stepped out of a ‘90s music video. “It’s okay, Mom,” I said into the phone. “I’ve got this.” He lost his memory, not me. I remembered everything. I picked up a tray of samples and walked right past him, deliberately offering them to every customer around him. Just as he finally reached for the last piece on the tray, Sophia swooped in and snatched it. “Delicious!” she said, chewing dramatically. “I really am a genius.” She then turned to Liam with wide, innocent eyes. “Oh, I am so sorry! I didn’t realize you wanted to try one. But hey, we have plenty of new items you could buy to take home.” A muscle twitched in Liam’s jaw. Sophia pressed on. “Or… were you just here to mooch free samples?” And just like that, Liam slapped down his card, bought a $2,000 membership, and stalked out with five pineapple buns and a face like thunder. Sophia waved the receipt from her first big sale. “Thanks, girl. Best opening gift ever.” 4 Liam sat in the private lounge, staring mournfully at the five pineapple buns on the table. “Hey, isn’t this from Sophia’s new bakery?” Chris asked, taking a bite of a bun before Liam grabbed him and pulled him down onto the sofa. “What do you think of this outfit?” Liam demanded. Chris answered honestly. “Very… nineteen-year-old you.” Liam frowned. “Am I old now?” Luke’s eyes were wide with admiration. “No way, man! You’re the best of all of us at staying handsome. You’re, like, ruggedly hot.” “But I’m twenty-nine now,” Liam lamented. “That’s basically thirty. A thirty-year-old guy is already past his prime. Wait a minute—she doesn’t know how old I am, does she?” The pineapple bun dropped from Chris’s hand. “She? Liam, don’t tell me this ‘she’ is a woman.” Liam gave a nonchalant hum. “Yeah. She’s pretty good at playing hard to get.” “Holy crap! Someone tell Mia! Liam’s got a crush on someone else!” “I’m on it, I’m on it! Texting her now.” “What does she look like, man? You can’t just go around doing this!” “You guys saw her at the lounge yesterday,” Liam said, oblivious. “And it’s not a crush. I’m never getting married! But… I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as her. Her face is so small, smaller than my hand, and she seems so gentle…” Owen, who was in the middle of typing a frantic message, froze. His fingers hovered over the screen as he stared at Liam in disbelief. Then, he quickly deleted everything in the chat box. “The girl from the lounge yesterday? That was—!” The alarm bells stopped ringing. Chris and Luke exchanged a look. “So, do you know her name?” Chris asked. Liam shook his head. “You guys know her?” The three of them engaged in a silent, frantic conversation with their eyes before pushing the unluckiest of the bunch, Luke, forward. Luke’s face was stretched into a pained smile. “Yeah, uh, her name is Mia Evans. We know the bakery owner, Sophia, and Mia is her best friend.” Liam let out a soft “Ah.” “So that’s it.” He hummed a little tune as he left. “These buns are pretty good. I’ll bring you guys some more over the next few days.” The remaining friends looked at each other, horrified. “You guys think when Liam gets his memory back, he’s going to throw us all in a river to feed the fish?” “Nah, we’re good. Mia told us not to say anything. As long as she’s got our backs, Liam won’t do anything to us.” “Good point.” 5 The next day, Liam didn’t just show up at the bakery himself; he brought Chris, Luke, and Owen with him. Each of them bought a $2,000 gift card, instantly becoming the bakery’s top VVIPs. Sophia’s grin was so wide it threatened to split her face. “Well, look what the cat dragged in! If it isn’t my favorite cash cows. Come on over, have a seat.” But Liam was distracted, his eyes constantly darting toward the kitchen in the back. When he didn’t see the person he was looking for, his shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Don’t you know the owner?” he asked Luke. Luke, mid-chew, looked up with a blank expression. “Huh?” “It’s been a while, right? Don’t you need to catch up?” Chris burst out laughing and shoved Luke out of his seat. Luke scratched his head, vaguely understanding, and walked over to Sophia. Chris and the others mouthed frantically behind him: “Ask about her!!!” Luke nodded. “Hey, how come Mia isn’t here today?” “Her? Oh, she’s at work.” Luke nodded again, then turned back to Liam. “Hey, man. Mia’s not here today.” Liam stared at him. “…I didn’t ask about her.” With that, he got up and walked out. Sophia was speechless. “Seriously? How on earth did he manage to win Mia over?” The others just shook their heads in unison. “We have no idea.” 6 For the next week, Liam made a habit of “passing by” my office building. An early morning jog, a casual stroll. He’d see me, then quickly look away, pretending he didn’t know me. An evening run, another pass by the front of my building. This time, he managed a quick greeting. “Fancy seeing you here.” It was the rainy season, a miserable stretch of wind and downpours. I thought that would surely deter him. But no. The next rainy day, there he was, jogging in a full-on rain slicker. Don’t ask. It was his “passion for fitness.” This went on for days, and I never once initiated a conversation. Back in their usual lounge, Liam sat with Chris. The table wasn’t covered in empty bottles anymore. It was covered in bags of pastries. Chris unwrapped a napoleon and took a bite. “Hey, this new napoleon is pretty good.” “Yeah, yeah. You said the same thing when Sophia gave you the burnt scraps.” “It’s called being low-maintenance! Hey, Liam, want a piece? It’s really good.” Liam wasn’t in the mood. Chris found it strange. For days, Liam had been dragging them to the lounge only to sit in moody silence. But it was obvious something was eating at him. “You’ve been acting weird lately, man,” Chris ventured. “Is it because of Mia?” Liam didn’t answer directly. He just unwrapped a pastry and asked casually, “Since you guys know Sophia, you must know a little about Mia, right?” “I guess.” Luke glanced at Liam. “A little. We’re closer with her husband.” Liam was stunned. “She’s married?” Chris mumbled through a mouthful of pastry, “Yep. Though he’s probably about to be her ex-husband.” Liam looked as though his world had just ended. But within a minute, he’d already rationalized it. “Two people who aren’t in love shouldn’t be forced to stay together. That’s fair. I support her divorce.” Owen, munching on a taro tart, started rambling, “Mia likes guys who are handsome, don’t smoke or drink, and are, you know, mature and stable.” “Totally!” … The more they talked, the more annoyed Liam became. “I didn’t ask you guys.” They all exchanged a look. They honestly had no idea how they ever put up with him back when they were nineteen. 7 After lunch, my assistant mentioned that Liam was downstairs. No one at the office knew about his amnesia; they just assumed we’d had a fight. When I went down, I saw him pacing back and forth in front of the entrance, trying his best to look like a casual passerby. “I heard you were looking for me?” I walked toward him just as a breeze lifted my hair and sent my skirt swirling in a perfect arc. A faint blush crept up Liam’s ears. He quickly looked away. “No, I wasn’t.” He didn’t even realize he had started walking with his arm and leg on the same side moving in unison. I smiled. “Oh.” “I work here, and you just happen to be… taking a walk? What a coincidence.” His ears turned a deeper shade of red. I never thought I’d see the day the twenty-nine-year-old Liam, the king of dirty talk in bed, would blush like a schoolboy. “I hope my being here isn’t causing you any trouble. The people in your office saw me.” “Why would it be trouble? They all know you.” A single leaf drifted down and landed on his shoulder. I reached up to brush it away. Liam ducked his head, looking like a flustered boy who’d just been teased. “This isn’t right,” he muttered, yet he didn’t move an inch away from my touch. “What’s not right about it?” I leaned in closer, my breath ghosting over his earlobe. “Aren’t you trying to win me over?” His entire body went rigid, and he stumbled back a step. “You knew?” I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Of course. You want to pursue me. But you have to give me some time to think about it, right?” Liam clenched his fists. “Okay.” 8 I met Liam when he was twenty-seven. The young, accomplished, and impossibly poised CEO of a public company. We were set up. I had actually seen him once before our date. He was arguing with his parents about the very setup they were planning. He didn’t want to get married. His father insisted that at twenty-seven, he was running out of time. He even pointed out that he and Liam’s mother had gotten married right after college, unlike their son, who apparently no woman wanted. That was the first time I had ever seen the unflappable Liam lose his composure. He couldn’t win against his family, so he met with me. His attitude was cool and detached. But the very next day, his father showed up at my family’s door with a bride price. After we got married, Liam rarely showed his emotions. We were like respectful roommates, except for when we were… fulfilling our marital duties. But that was fine. A relationship could be built slowly. Dating the nineteen-year-old version of Liam felt like a chance to make up for the romance we’d missed by getting married so quickly. And this stage—the flirting, the uncertainty—was always the most intoxicating part. 9 “What’s got you in such a good mood, man? You’re glowing. You even bought us dinner.” Liam casually angled his phone so the screen was visible. My picture was his wallpaper. “I got her number on messaging.” Chris glanced at it, and his vision went black for a second. “Dude… haha… congratulations.” Just then, two new messages popped up on Liam’s screen. A slow smile spread across his face. He stood up. “I’ve got to go. The bill’s paid. You guys take your time.” After he left, the room was silent. “Are you kidding me?” Luke finally burst out. “He’s been moping around and sneaking out for days… all to get his own legal wife’s contact info?” “…” Liam started showing up at my office constantly, asking me to lunch, asking if I had plans after work. But his nineteen-year-old idea of dating was stuck at dinner and a movie. Anything beyond that… he was clueless. During a movie, I gently brushed the back of his hand with mine. He instantly snatched his hand back and shoved it in his pocket. When he was driving me home, I asked him to buckle my seatbelt. He did it with his body held ramrod straight, managing not to touch me once. This couldn’t go on. “Liam,” I said one evening, “I have a husband. You know that, right?” He looked down, the corners of his eyes turning red. His voice was barely a whisper. “Could you please stop toying with me?” I took his hand. “Actually—” Before I could finish, his phone rang. It was his college-aged cousin. “Liam! You said you were gonna bring my sister-in-law to visit. When are you guys coming? I’ve been waiting forever!” The muscles in Liam’s face froze. “Sister-in-law?” “Yeah, what’s wrong? Bro, I heard you were in an accident. Don’t tell me you actually scrambled your brains. What’s up with you? I know they say you and her aren’t super close, but you can’t have forgotten something as big as your own marriage, right?” Until that moment, it had never once crossed Liam’s mind that he might actually have a wife. His entire world came crashing down. He ripped his hand from mine. “I’m so sorry!”

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My daughter’s words before bed sent a chill down my spine. “At naptime, the teacher pats us, one by one. After she pats you to death, she puts you on your little bed.” I patiently tried to explain. “Honey, that’s just how she helps you fall asleep. Once you’re sleeping, she lays you down on your bed.” She nodded, though I wasn’t sure she understood. The next morning, a message appeared in the preschool parents’ group chat. It was from Lily Miller’s mother. She said that after her daughter fell asleep last night, she never woke up again. She was dead. I told myself it was just a tragic accident. But then, one by one, the children in my daughter’s class began to die in their sleep. And everyone finally realized this wasn’t an accident. It was a long-awaited, meticulously planned revenge. 1 My daughter, Joy, was curled up beside me, begging for one more story. I’d just finished Little Red Riding Hood, and I added my usual warning about strangers being wolves in disguise. “Okay, Mommy,” she chirped sweetly. I gently patted her back, urging her to sleep. “Mommy, my teacher pats us, too,” she said, her eyes suddenly snapping open. The abruptness of it startled me. Still, I kept my voice soft. “Does she pat you just like Mommy does?” Joy sat up and shook her head. “No. Before our afternoon nap, she holds each of us and pats us. After she pats you to death, she puts you on your little bed.” She described it with such vivid innocence. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. My neighbor, a preschool teacher, used to tell me funny stories about the things kids say. I never thought I’d hear one from my own daughter. “Sweetheart,” I explained gently, “she’s just helping you fall asleep. When you’re sleeping, she puts you down for your nap. She’s not ‘patting you to death.’” She seemed to accept that, finally lying down to sleep. I stretched, ready to turn in myself. Before bed, I did my usual scroll through social media. I saw a new post from Joy’s homeroom teacher. It was just a single character: Today was the first day of school for the little ones. It must have been chaos. The number probably meant she’d survived day one. I was exhausted after a day with just one child; I couldn’t imagine handling twenty of them with only two other teachers. Feeling a pang of sympathy, I liked her post, scrolled a little more, and then turned off my phone, letting sleep take over. 2 The alarm blared the next morning. I scrambled to get Joy dressed and ready for school. Just as we were about to leave, I saw a notification from the parent group chat. Assuming it was a morning announcement from the teacher, I opened it. But it was a message from a parent listed as “Lily Miller’s Mom.” [My daughter came home yesterday saying she was sleepy. She didn’t even eat dinner, just went straight to bed. This morning, I couldn’t wake her up. I checked on her and… she wasn’t breathing. She’s gone.] My mind immediately flashed back to what Joy had said last night. Could she have been telling the truth? The group chat exploded. Parents flooded the chat with condolences, asking what had happened. Lily’s mom quickly sent a voice message. [My daughter has always been perfectly healthy. She was fine when I dropped her off yesterday. But when she came home, all she did was complain about being tired. Her father and I just thought she was worn out from her first day. We didn’t think anything of it.] [I never imagined she would just… pass away in her sleep. We just want to know what she ate at school. What happened? We need an explanation from the teachers!] Her voice was choked with sobs. As a mother, my heart broke for her. I sent a simple hug emoji. She replied with a quiet “thank you.” Finally, the homeroom teacher responded. [Mrs. Miller, what Lily ate and drank yesterday was the same as all the other children. She did not fall or injure herself in any way. If you require the school’s security footage, we are prepared to provide it.] The reply felt so cold, so devoid of empathy. A child in her class dies after her first day of school, and the teacher offers not a single word of comfort—just a clinical, defensive offer of surveillance footage, as if her only concern was deflecting blame. I was about to type something in support of Lily’s mom, but I saw the teacher had already removed her from the group. An official announcement immediately followed: [Group chat is for school-related discussions only. Please be mindful of this policy.] [Understood.] [Understood.] … The replies cascaded down the screen. I knew it was useless to say anything now, so I quietly added my own [Understood.] to the chain. We were running late. Pushing the tragedy of Lily Miller from my mind, I hurried Joy to the preschool. Her teacher was there to greet us. Joy clutched her hand, her lip trembling as she gave me a reluctant goodbye. I waved, promising I’d be the first one there to pick her up, offered the teacher a polite smile, and turned to leave. 3 Back home, I couldn’t settle. I kept checking the group chat, my stomach in knots. But it was silent. No one mentioned Lily again. It was just an accident, I told myself, over and over. A horrible, tragic accident. 4 I arrived at the preschool well before dismissal time, my anxiety getting the better of me. As I approached the school gates, I heard it: the sounds of a raw, heart-wrenching wail. The voice was familiar. It sounded like Lily’s mom from the voice message. I parked my scooter and moved closer. A group of people held a large banner that read: OUR DAUGHTER DIED AFTER ONE DAY AT THIS SCHOOL. WE DEMAND JUSTICE! It was Lily’s family. A crowd of onlookers was filming with their phones while school security guards tried to clear a path. “It’s dismissal time,” one of the guards pleaded. “You’re blocking the entrance for other parents. Please move to the side.” Other parents, anxious to retrieve their children, started to complain. “Come on, the teacher already said in the group chat that the school wasn’t responsible. Don’t hold the rest of us up.” Lily’s mom whipped her head around to face the parent who had spoken. I recognized her from her profile picture—it was Lisa Davis’s mom, the first one to reply “Understood” in the chat. “Easy for you to say,” Lily’s mom snarled, her eyes burning with hatred. “You have no compassion. Let’s see you say that when it’s your daughter who’s dead.” The venom in her gaze made my blood run cold. Joy’s words echoed in my head again. No, no, it can’t be. I pushed the thought away. Lily’s death was an accident. “How dare you say something so vile?” Lisa’s mom shrieked, her face turning crimson. “Just because your daughter had bad luck, you’re going to curse mine?” If another parent hadn’t held her back, I think she would have slapped her. I couldn’t stand to hear her talk like that. What mother could bear to hear her child spoken of so cruelly? Lily’s mom certainly couldn’t. She threw down her sign and lunged at Lisa’s mom. The other woman flinched, screaming for security. The scene descended into chaos. I didn’t want to be late picking up Joy, so I slipped past the commotion and into the school. I collected my daughter from her teacher, and we headed back out. The two mothers were still screaming at each other. Joy heard Lily’s name and whispered, “Mommy, was Lily the one the teacher patted to death?” My heart stopped. “Why do you say that, honey?” “Because she was the first one the teacher patted yesterday,” she answered, her face a mask of pure innocence. A horrifying impulse took over. I asked a second question. “Who was the second one?” Joy thought for a moment. “It was Lisa,” she said. Lisa. My eyes darted back to Lisa’s mom, still caught in the screaming match. I debated whether I should say something, try to warn her. But this wasn’t the time or place. “You have a good memory, sweetie,” I said, bending down to her level. “But let’s keep that our little secret, okay?” She nodded, and I put her on the back of my scooter, my mind racing as we drove home. 5 That night, after Joy was asleep, I found Lisa’s mom in the group chat and sent her a friend request. She accepted almost immediately. I relayed what my daughter had told me and asked if Lisa had seemed unusual when she got home. Her response was a voice message. I pressed play, and the first thing I heard was a string of curses directed at my own mother. She then proceeded to curse my entire family line, accusing me of teaming up with Lily’s mom to jinx her daughter. So much for trying to help. No good deed goes unpunished. Furious, I closed the chat and went to browse my social media feed. Coincidentally, Joy’s teacher had posted again tonight. Just a single character: Day two survived? A seed of doubt began to sprout. What if the numbers meant something else? But I had no proof, nothing to go on. I ignored the post and tried to put it out of my mind. But the next morning, another parent spoke up in the group chat. This time it was a father, Jake Thompson’s dad. [This is getting weird. My son came home yesterday just like Lily, saying he was exhausted. He fell asleep and never woke up. His mother and I found him this morning… he was already stiff.] [I’m starting to think there’s something seriously wrong with this school!] Panic erupted in the chat. [No way. This can’t be more than a coincidence, right?] [Don’t scaremonger. How could someone just kill children like that?] [But it’s too much of a coincidence.] It wasn’t Lisa. Did that mean Joy’s story was unrelated to these deaths? I hesitantly asked my daughter again, “Sweetie, are you sure Lisa was the second child the teacher put to sleep?” Joy looked at me with wide, confused eyes, trying to remember. I didn’t want to pressure her. I prayed it was all just a coincidence. Because if Joy’s story was true, she could be in danger too. But her next words filled me with absolute terror. “Miss Chen patted Lily first. But Miss Li patted Jake first. Then Miss Chen patted Lisa…” Two teachers. Patting children at the same time. The sequence was correct. First Lily, then Jake. Which meant the third would be… Lisa. But why? Why would the teachers do this? And what was I going to do about my daughter? 6 My hands trembled as I opened my chat with Lisa’s mom again. I stared at our conversation, my heart pounding. I couldn’t just stand by and let a little girl die. I typed out a message, connecting everything: what Joy had told me, the sequence of deaths, the teacher’s cryptic posts. I urged her to watch Lisa closely tonight. Based on what happened to Lily and Jake, Lisa would probably be exhausted. [Clara, I don’t know what I ever did to you, but why are you so obsessed with cursing my daughter?] Her voice message was practically a scream. She also sent a photo of her daughter sitting at the dinner table, drinking a glass of milk, looking perfectly fine. [Lily and Jake’s deaths were accidents! And the teacher’s posts are just numbers! You have a sick imagination. If you send me one more of these crazy messages, I swear I’ll forward our entire conversation to the teachers and let you explain your insane theories to them.] Lisa was fine? So Lily and Jake’s deaths really were accidents? Maybe I was just being paranoid. The last thing I wanted was to be singled out by the teachers and have Joy ostracized because of my overactive imagination. [No, no, please don’t!] I quickly sent a voice message back, pleading. [You’re right, it’s a misunderstanding. Just pretend I never said anything. There’s no need to involve the teachers.] It took her a long time to reply. [You know, Clara, I think you’re just way too sensitive. Guilty conscience got you on edge?] [Don’t you dare accuse me of anything!] I shot back. [I was just trying to be helpful because I didn’t want anything to happen to your daughter. Is it too much to ask for you to not bite my head off for it?] [Well, nothing’s wrong, so what are you so worked up about?] she replied dismissively. I quickly exited our chat and put my phone away. Joy tugged on my sleeve. “Mommy, why are you sweating so much?” I snapped back to reality, forcing a gentle smile as I stroked her cheek. “It’s nothing, sweetie. Mommy’s fine. Can I ask you something? Which number were you, when the teacher put you to sleep?” She tilted her head, looking adorable. “I was after Lisa! Miss Li held me and helped me sleep. She said I was a good girl!” That’s right. Every day, Joy would come home and tell me how wonderful all three teachers were, and how much they liked her. They didn’t seem like monsters who would harm innocent children. Besides, they had only known these kids for a few weeks. What reason could they possibly have to hate them enough to kill them? A wave of relief washed over me. 7 The next morning, as I walked Joy to the preschool, I heard another commotion near the entrance. I tightened my grip on her hand. As we got closer, I saw it was Lily’s mother and Jake’s father. They were demanding answers from the school. “Our children died at home after spending just one day here. I remember something like this happened at this very school over twenty years ago! This place must be haunted! We demand to speak to the director!” I couldn’t help but stop and watch. The director never appeared. Instead, she sent security guards to escort the two grieving parents inside. The entrance slowly returned to normal. I didn’t want to linger. I quickly handed Joy over to her teacher and went home. 8 Back home, I scrolled through the parent group chat to see what I’d missed. They’d been talking a lot. One parent brought up the incident from two decades ago. [Charlotte’s Dad]: You know, what if this place is actually haunted? [Charlotte’s Dad]: Yeah. I went to this preschool when I was a kid. A girl in one of the classes came home from school looking pale, went to sleep, and just never woke up. This was over 20 years ago. [Charlotte’s Dad]: At first, her family didn’t think much of it. The girl had a congenital heart condition, so they assumed that was the cause. [Charlotte’s Dad]: But then the next day, another girl from her class died the same way. And the day after, a third. That’s when the parents knew something was wrong and called the police. [Lisa’s Mom]: What happened then? [Charlotte’s Dad]: The story goes that the girls were all very pretty, and there was this rich little princess in their class who was jealous. During naptime, she would bully them, jumping up and down on them until their internal organs were crushed. That’s how they died. [Charlotte’s Dad]: But the girl’s family was wealthy. They bribed the director, and since there were no security cameras back then, she got away with it. They just transferred her to another school like nothing ever happened. A wave of shock and disgust filled the chat. Then, one mother asked: [What was that girl’s name? It wasn’t one of our teachers, was it?] [Charlotte’s Dad]: I think her last name started with a W. Her first name was Clara. [Lisa’s Mom]: That name sounds familiar… I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere…

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The new intern, Vivian, was an expert at milking the company for all it was worth. Every day, she’d serve our department colleagues meager, 100-gram portions of food while she packed up 200 of the company’s free boxed lunches to sell to the construction crew next door. When I tried to stop her, she turned the entire office against me. “Seriously, lady? I can’t believe there are people who still sympathize with the capitalists. They exploit you, and you get off on it. You’re a total corporate bootlicker, a real slave to the system!” My own boyfriend scolded me. “Vivian’s family is struggling. She’s selling the lunches to help them out. It’s for a good cause. Why do you have to be so selfish?” My colleagues complained. “You’re so petty, Phoebe. At least when Vivian sells the lunches, it helps us lose weight. All you do is order us high-calorie afternoon snacks.” They were united against me, as if I were the villain. I was so furious I washed my hands of the whole affair. Later, at the negotiation table for a billion-dollar contract, they were so famished they started dropping like flies, one by one, right onto the conference table. 1 Something strange had been happening at the office lately. The cafeteria food was vanishing at an alarming rate. By the time I ever got there, all that was left were scraps you wouldn’t even feed to a chicken. When I asked the kitchen staff, they just stammered. “Well, Phoebe… it’s a long story…” I’d been on a business trip for two weeks. Had everyone turned into a ravenous wolf pack in my absence? As I stood there puzzled, a young woman burst into the kitchen. “Hey, Mark! You got the lunches saved for me? Let’s get them over to the site, the guys are waiting!” The construction site? I peeked behind the counter and my jaw dropped. The same head chef who’d just told me they were out of food had two hundred boxed lunches stacked neatly in the back. Each one, meant to be a free employee perk, was now being sold for twenty-five dollars a pop. So this is where all the food was going. The company provided free meals for employees, but this was on another level. They were brazenly reselling company property. I frowned, my eyes landing on the woman’s ID badge. [Marketing Intern: Vivian Shaw.] She was an intern in my own department. How did someone so shamelessly opportunistic ever get past my discerning boyfriend, Matt, who did the hiring? Watching Vivian grab a stack of boxes as if she owned the place, I stepped forward and blocked her path. “Hold on. Did no one tell you that reselling company meals is against policy?” Caught off guard, Vivian’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Against policy? I’m an employee. This is my employee meal. What’s wrong with that?” “There’s nothing wrong with an employee taking their meal. But you’ve taken far more than your share.” At that, Vivian scoffed as if I’d told the world’s worst joke. She looked me up and down with contempt. “Oh my god, lady, are you for real? I can’t believe there are people who still suck up to the corporate overlords. They exploit you, and you love it. A true corporate slave.” “And sorry, but even if you are my boss, I have to be blunt. We, Gen Z, are here to fix the workplace, not kiss corporate ass!” Her logic was completely twisted. I was stating a simple fact, and she’d slapped me with the label of a bootlicker. “Fixing the workplace doesn’t mean screwing over your colleagues,” I said, my voice firm. Our department was in the final stages of a massive project. We were all working overtime, burning the midnight oil. A tiny 100-gram serving of food wasn’t nearly enough to sustain an adult through that kind of workload. “You’re right about that,” Vivian said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “But the whole company knows I’m selling the lunches. They all agreed to it. You don’t have the authority to speak for everyone, do you?” The whole company agreed? I was stunned. Had my team lost their minds from overwork? Vivian’s smirk widened. “Everyone’s on my new diet plan. I suggest you cut back a little, too. I mean, once a woman hits thirty, it’s all downhill. And if you’re old and fat… well, no one’s going to want you, right?” As it happened, I had just celebrated my thirtieth birthday. The jab was clearly intentional. I, for one, preferred my healthy, curvy figure to the skeletal look she was promoting. Our eyes met. She stuck her tongue out playfully. “Sorry, Phoebe. I just graduated, so I’m a little blunt. Please don’t take it personally.” She had an answer for everything. Arguing with her was like punching a cloud. “The company has no obligation to let you profit off its resources,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “Vivian, either you stop this immediately, or I’m reporting you to upper management.” “You—!” Seeing that her free lunch train was about to be derailed, Vivian’s face crumpled. She covered her face with her hands and ran out, sobbing. That afternoon, the entire office was in an uproar. The first person to knock on my door was my boyfriend, Matt. Before I could even smile, he launched into a tirade. “Phoebe! Vivian’s family is poor! She’s selling those lunches to help them out and do some charity on the side. How could you be so selfish as to try and get her fired?” Fired? When had I said anything about firing her? I was baffled. All I’d done was give her a verbal warning. Even stranger was Matt’s reaction. He had never been this impulsive or hot-headed. I explained what had happened and pointed out that Vivian’s diet plan was dangerously unhealthy. Matt just laughed. “We’ve all been eating just fine for the two weeks you were gone. It’s just a few lunches. It’s not like you own the company. Why are you so worked up about it?” He lowered his voice, but I still heard his next words clearly. “I guess Vivian was right. The higher you climb, the more you turn into a good little corporate dog…” Ever since I’d been chosen over him for that business trip to the States two weeks ago, Matt’s words had been laced with a subtle venom. But I had earned that trip. In the workplace, we weren’t a couple; we were competitors. We had a huge fight, right there in my office. I’d never heard someone defend such blatant freeloading as a noble act. Vivian, doing charity? How was selling free food for a profit charity? Later, in the breakroom, I ran into some colleagues. I couldn’t help but vent. “I’m not just fighting for my own meal, you know. This isn’t healthy for any of you. Forget work, you’re going to ruin your health!” They just exchanged awkward glances. Then, one of them spoke up, her tone dripping with passive aggression. “Honestly, Phoebe, you’re being a little petty. Vivian’s diet plan is helping us lose weight. All you do is order us afternoon snacks.” What? I couldn’t believe my ears. To help them through the high-stress project, I’d been regularly treating the department to high-end afternoon tea, paying for it out of my own pocket. I’d thought it was a nice gesture. I never imagined it would be used as a weapon against me. “It’s always Starbucks or some fancy pastry. My face has gotten so puffy. Are you trying to make sure I end up single like you?” “Yeah, you make thirty grand a month, so you can afford to buy us expensive snacks. Vivian only makes three thousand, but she bought us all thirty-dollar whole-wheat bread.” “Seriously, Phoebe, you’re the one being unreasonable. We’re all worried about gaining weight from stress-eating at our desks. Vivian is actually looking out for our health. You just want to sabotage us with cake…” The complaints started pouring in from all sides. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Every single time I ordered snacks, I asked for their preferences and dietary restrictions. They never had a problem then. They always ate with gusto. And now, they were turning it all back on me. Fine. No good deed goes unpunished. I never ate in the cafeteria anyway. If they wanted to live on a hundred grams of rice a day, they could knock themselves out. Vivian, emboldened by her success, declared she was on a mission to “disrupt the workplace” and “beat the capitalists at their own game.” Soon, every free perk the company offered was under attack. “I propose we clear out the breakroom snacks!” she announced one day, her voice ringing with righteous indignation. “They say it’s a free perk, but we all know they just deduct it from our salaries! We Gen Z will not be corporate pawns!” She was young and charismatic, and in just a few weeks, she had become the office darling. The other employees hung on her every word. So, under the guise of “sustainability,” she started taking home entire boxes of office supplies. When the company provided a watermelon for afternoon tea, others would take a slice; she’d take the entire platter. The freezer, once stocked with ice cream and cakes, was now perpetually empty. “These are all high-sugar foods that are bad for you!” she’d proclaim. “It’s a capitalist trap to make you sick so you have to spend your hard-earned money at the hospital. I’m just getting rid of them for your own good.” The nerve of this woman. She made freeloading sound like a public service. “And by ‘getting rid of them,’ you mean selling them to the construction crew next door?” I interjected, cutting through her charade. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face, but she recovered quickly. “I’m just putting resources where they’re needed most, Phoebe. Giving them away for free would just create other problems.” “The workers need them, so I sell to them. I’m completely transparent about earning money, and I always use it to buy little gifts for my colleagues. I may be poor, but I have my pride. You don’t need to be so sarcastic. My conscience is clear!” At this, my colleagues’ eyes welled up with tears. “Thank you so much, Vivian! You’re saving us from ourselves! We’ll finally lose this awful desk-job weight!” “Vivian’s the only one who actually cares about us. The company just sees us as workhorses, but she’s looking out for our health.” “Phoebe, have you forgotten what it’s like to be one of us now that you’ve been promoted? The managers aren’t even here. You don’t have to suck up so hard.” She had twisted everything. I was so angry I just turned and walked away. She even started a side hustle using the office’s free printer, and soon our workspace was littered with tacky, colorful flyers that made my skin crawl. When I confronted her, she was defiant. “The rich get richer while the poor starve. It costs three dollars a page to print outside. I only charge one. Think of what they can do with those extra two dollars!” she preached. “You might not care about two dollars, but you’re so worried about the corporation’s bottom line. Honestly, Phoebe, I really look down on people like you.” She was using her “disruptor” persona to shamelessly exploit company resources for personal gain. I decided to stop engaging. There was no point in arguing with someone so delusional. I would just wait for her to self-destruct. The company’s headquarters sent a team for a quarterly review every three months. The next one was in a week. Her little empire would come crashing down then. But I underestimated her audacity. She had apparently decided that any item left in the office for more than three days was trash. My brand-new designer handbag went missing. I searched everywhere, only to find it listed on Vivian’s Poshmark account. Status: Sold. “Vivian,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, “why is my handbag on your resale site?” She just gave me a sly smile. “Oh, Phoebe, you don’t have to thank me for helping you declutter.” “I got a whole $500 for that fake bag, you know. I used the money to buy gifts for the office. Yours is on your desk.” Five hundred dollars? My vision went black. It was a new-season bag from a luxury brand. It was worth five thousand. “How dare you sell my things without asking? That’s stealing!” Vivian just shrugged. “Don’t be so dramatic, Phoebe. The office has a rule: anything left on the floor for more than three days is considered trash. You should be thanking me, not accusing me.” What office rule? I’d worked here for three years and never heard of such a thing. It was just another one of her self-serving fabrications. Five thousand dollars was enough to file a police report. I was done arguing. I pulled out my phone to call the police. Vivian burst into tears. “It was just a fake bag! Is it really that big of a deal? It’s not like I can’t pay you back the five hundred. I may be poor, but I have my pride. I guess I just won’t eat for the next week!” Her outburst immediately rallied the troops. “Vivian was just trying to be helpful! It was a fake bag, just let it go. Why are you bullying her like this, Phoebe?” “Wow, some people have no shame. You accepted her expensive gift and now you’re still shaking her down for money.” Gift? I suddenly remembered the new skincare set that had appeared on my desk yesterday. I used that brand and had noticed a subtle difference in the logo. Suspecting it was a knockoff, I’d set it aside. I never imagined that was the gift she was talking about. “Taking something without asking is stealing. You can have the fake skincare back. My bag was worth five thousand dollars, and I want it back. Today.” I started to dial 911. The next thing I knew, my phone was smacked out of my hand and clattered to the floor. Matt’s voice was cold as ice. “Phoebe, have you made enough of a scene? Don’t push it.” “How much was the bag? I’ll pay you for it.” “Matt!” This wasn’t about the money. It was about basic human decency. I stared in disbelief at the man I had been with for six years. We were supposed to be getting engaged soon. But right now, all he cared about was comforting a crying Vivian. “It’s okay, Vivi. I’m here now,” he said, his voice softer than I’d heard it in years. I hadn’t seen him look at anyone with such tenderness in a long, long time. Vivian had been hired by Matt directly. They’d gone to the same university, and he was her senior. The office had been buzzing with rumors about them for weeks. I’d ignored them, but seeing them together now, a sour knot formed in my stomach. Company policy forbade office romances. My relationship with Matt had always been a secret. I never thought I’d have to stand by and watch my own boyfriend be so intimate with another woman. “Vivian is new to the corporate world,” Matt said, his brow furrowed in disapproval. “She’s sensitive and shy. How could you humiliate her in front of everyone?” “It was just a bag. When did you become so petty?” In his eyes, my defending my own property was an act of aggression. I fought back tears. “Fine. Your ‘sensitive’ Vivian is so wonderful. Why don’t you just spend the rest of your life with her?” “That’s not what I mean… She’s just my junior from school. Her family’s not well-off, so it’s only natural for me to look out for her.” Seeing my tears, Matt sighed and pulled me into a hug. “And you, Phoebe… you’ve been with me for six years. You’ve been by my side as I climbed to this position. You know I only love you…” He loved me. I knew he did. The brilliant, ambitious son of a well-to-do family, a top graduate, who, for me, was willing to agree to my family’s demanding terms for our marriage. His love had always felt certain. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my own spiraling emotions. But then, I noticed something. The small, worn elastic hair tie that he always wore on his wrist was gone. “Where’s the hair tie I gave you?” “Oh, I lost it during a client meeting. Phoebe, I hope you don’t mind…” As he spoke, he pulled a small, red agate bead bracelet from behind his back with a flourish. “Don’t be sad, baby. Just give me another one to wear. It breaks my heart to see you cry.” He was so smooth. My anger dissipated. I put on the bracelet and went back to my desk. But as I approached, I saw my colleagues gathered around Vivian, cooing over her. “Don’t cry, Vivian. Wow, that gold bracelet is gorgeous! It makes your skin look so pale and beautiful. Who’s the secret admirer?” Vivian blushed. “Don’t be silly. I don’t have any admirers.” “Oh, stop being modest! I saw you at the mall the other day. Matt picked it out for you himself! A two-thousand-dollar gold bracelet, just like that.” “Hehe, don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone. Just remember to invite us to the wedding!” They chattered excitedly. Vivian looked shyly toward Matt’s office. “Okay, okay… I was just in a bad mood that day, and Matt said gold looks pretty on a girl, so he bought it to cheer me up.” “Honestly, I told him it was too expensive, but he insisted. He said only gold was good enough for me…”

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At our engagement party, my fiancée’s godbrother produced a contract. “Lucas,” he said, his voice slick, “Sienna promised years ago that she would give me a child.” “Sign this procreation agreement. Otherwise, you’re not marrying her.” I didn’t take the papers. I turned to look at Sienna. “Did you really promise him something like that?” “It was a silly childhood joke, that’s all,” she replied, waving a dismissive hand. “Caleb’s drunk. Don’t mind him. Just sign it so he doesn’t make a scene.” Looking at her completely unfazed expression, I suddenly had to laugh. If that’s how it was going to be… Then this relationship was no longer worth saving. 1 I tore the agreement to shreds. The pieces of paper fluttered to the floor like bitter confetti. The color drained from Caleb’s face. He shot to his feet, his chair screeching against the polished floor. “Thorne, what the hell is your problem?” I ignored him, my eyes fixed only on Sienna. Her brow was furrowed in that familiar look of irritation, the one a parent gives two bickering children. Except, every single time, she expected me to be the one to back down. “Caleb’s had too much to drink, you know that,” she said, her voice rising with clear annoyance. “He’s just messing around. Do you have to take it so seriously? What’s the big deal about signing a piece of paper to humor him?” Humor him. I looked at her face, flushed with anger, and was suddenly thrown back to when we first got together. She’d had the same expression then. The first time I suggested that Caleb was perhaps a little too clingy, she’d snapped, “Lucas, he’s my godbrother. We grew up together. He’s just immature. Why are you so jealous?” So I had backed down. For five years. Caleb loved his little pranks. He’d “accidentally” lose my important contract files, “unintentionally” spill coffee on my laptop full of critical data, and secretly switch my herbal tea with laxatives. Every time I confronted him, Sienna would shield him, always with the same line: “He didn’t mean it. Don’t be so petty.” Three months ago, Caleb tampered with my car’s brakes. I nearly died on the freeway. The car was totaled, and I broke my leg in two places, spending two long months in a hospital bed. The doctor said I was lucky to be alive, that I’d danced with death and somehow been pulled back. He also said I was inches away from being permanently crippled. I remember Sienna at the hospital, shaking and crying, vowing to give Caleb the scolding of his life. But the next day, when she came to visit with a thermos of soup, her tone had already softened. “Caleb cried all night. He knows he was wrong,” she’d said. “He honestly didn’t mean any harm. It was just a stupid prank that went too far. He never thought the consequences would be so serious. Please, don’t call the police. Let’s just let this go, okay?” I had looked at her red-rimmed eyes then and couldn’t say a word. In the end, I let it go. And now, here was Caleb, standing at our engagement party, brandishing a so-called “procreation agreement” and demanding my signature as if it were his right. I had reached my limit. “Sienna,” I said, my voice tight with suppressed fury. “Tell me again. What is it you want me to do?” My tone seemed to provoke her. She stood up abruptly. “I’m just asking you to sign a paper to get Caleb to stop making a scene! Lucas, what is wrong with you today? You’re usually fine with this. It’s a joke! Can’t you just play along? Or would you rather embarrass everyone and become the laughingstock of the party?” Beside her, Caleb let out a short, sharp laugh. His chin was tilted up, his eyes gleaming with defiance and a smug sense of victory. He was certain I would yield, just like every other time. He even poured himself another glass of wine, swirling it casually, waiting for my inevitable surrender. I slowly rose to my feet and smoothed the front of my suit jacket. Then I looked directly at Caleb. “You’re not welcome here. You can either leave on your own, or I can have security escort you out.” The entire ballroom fell silent. Every guest turned to stare, their eyes darting between the three of us. The smile on Caleb’s face froze. He had clearly never imagined I would humiliate him in front of everyone. His face went from red to a sickly pale. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his wine glass. “Lucas!” Sienna seized my arm, her nails digging into my flesh. “Everyone is watching! What the hell has gotten into you? Apologize to Caleb, right now!” 2 Her eyes were filled with fury and disappointment. And a sliver of indignation, as if I were the one who had just committed an unforgivable offense. As if I were the one senselessly ruining our engagement party. Behind her, Caleb tilted his head, a perfectly crafted expression of hurt and anger on his face. He even rubbed his eyes at just the right moment, as if fighting back tears from the sheer weight of the insult. Suddenly, I felt an immense wave of exhaustion wash over me. Every concession I had made over the last five years, every act of forgiveness, every time I had told myself, “Let it go, he’s just a spoiled kid,” all of it came rushing back, now appearing not just clear, but utterly pathetic. I gently pried her hand off my arm. She froze, stunned that I would pull away from her. “Sienna, do you remember?” I looked into her eyes, speaking slowly and clearly. “Three months ago, I was lying in a hospital bed, and the doctors were telling me I might never walk properly again. That night, you told me Caleb knew he was wrong, that he was terrified.” Her pupils contracted slightly. She didn’t understand why I was bringing this up now. “Do you know,” I continued, my voice low but carrying to the nearest tables, “what I was thinking at that moment?” She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. “I was wondering, if I had become a cripple, would you still have thought it was just him being ‘immature’?” I paused, my gaze sweeping over Caleb’s paling face before settling back on hers. “Now, I finally have my answer.” The expression on Sienna’s face hardened into a mask. A second later, Caleb’s demeanor shifted with the speed of a stage actor. He put on a look of profound remorse and stumbled forward, his voice a manufactured sob. “Lucas… no, brother-in-law… it’s all my fault.” He raised a hand and wiped away non-existent tears with his sleeve. “I’m a bastard, a piece of trash! All that stuff before… I was just messing around, I was stupid…” As he spoke, he darted glances at Sienna, gauging her reaction. Seeing her brow furrowed in deep concern, his performance intensified. “I shouldn’t have made such an awful joke, and I definitely shouldn’t have… done all those horrible things that got you hurt…” His voice grew louder, drawing the attention of the entire room. “But Sienna is innocent! She didn’t know anything! If you’re going to be angry, be angry at me! Don’t take it out on her! It’s all my fault!” I watched his one-man show, my face a blank slate. I’d seen this act too many times before. It was a perfectly calibrated performance designed to prey on Sienna’s sympathies and force me to retreat. Seeing my impassive stare, a flicker of viciousness crossed Caleb’s eyes. He suddenly raised his hand and, before anyone could react, slapped himself hard across the face. Crack! The sharp sound echoed in the silent ballroom. He put all his strength into it, again and again, without mercy. His cheek immediately swelled and turned red. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Caleb!” Sienna shrieked. She lunged forward and grabbed his wrist, her voice cracking with tears. “What are you doing? Stop it! Stop!” Caleb struggled against her, acting as if he were in such agony that only self-harm could atone for his sins. Tears and snot streamed down his face. “Sienna, let me go! I’m a menace! I deserve to die! I embarrassed Lucas, I ruined your engagement party! I’m not human! I deserve to die!” He continued to fight, trying to punch himself with his free hand. Sienna threw her arms around him, her own tears flowing freely. She whipped her head around to face me, and the eyes I had once adored were now blazing with incandescent rage. “Are you happy now, Lucas?” Her voice was shrill, trembling with emotion. “What do you want? Will you be satisfied only when you’ve pushed him to his death? He’s just a kid! He already said he was sorry! What more do you want from him?” She looked at me as if I were a cold-blooded executioner, torturing an innocent victim. My heart, which had been sinking, finally hit rock bottom. The last ounce of warmth vanished. A kid? A kid who could tamper with the brakes on my car, who could produce a “procreation agreement” at my engagement party, and who could beat himself bloody to manipulate the situation? That was a kid? Caleb slumped in Sienna’s arms, as if utterly spent. “It’s not his fault… Sienna, I brought this on myself,” he gasped. “It’s all my fault, don’t blame him…” The more “noble” he acted, the more Sienna’s heart broke for him, and the more her anger toward me intensified. She clutched him tightly, like a mother hen protecting her chick, glaring at me as if I were the source of all their suffering. “Look what you’ve done to him! Just look at him!” she screamed. “Lucas, I never knew you could be so cold-blooded! I was wrong about you!” 3 Her chest heaved with ragged breaths. Then, under the stunned gazes of all our guests, she raised her hand and swung it at my face. Another slap echoed through the room. It wasn’t a light one. A sharp, stinging pain erupted on my cheek. The ballroom was dead silent. You could have heard a pin drop. Everyone was shocked by the sudden turn of events. After she hit me, Sienna’s hand remained in the air. She herself seemed surprised for a second, but that surprise was quickly consumed by a fresh wave of protective fury. She pointed a finger at my nose, her voice icy and resolute, laced with a clear threat. “Lucas, apologize to Caleb. Right now. Immediately. Or… our engagement is off!” Her eyes were locked on me, filled with anger, with menace, and with a barely perceptible flicker of panic. And something else: expectation. She was expecting me to fold, just like I had countless times before. She was expecting me to choose the path of least resistance, to appease her, to forgive Caleb, and to let this whole fiasco end with their victory. Over her shoulder, in an angle she couldn’t see, Caleb’s lips twitched into a fleeting, triumphant smirk. It was the smirk of a schemer who had just won, a look of pure contempt for the position I was in. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. The burning sensation on my cheek felt like it was sinking deeper than the skin. It was searing itself into my heart, extinguishing the last embers of affection I had left. “I will never apologize,” I said, my voice as cold as her eyes. “Fine. You chose this. The engagement is canceled!” she snapped. “Go cool off and think about what you’ve done. When you’ve come to your senses, you can come and find me.” With that, she turned her back on me and, supporting Caleb, walked out of the ballroom. As they left, Caleb, still leaning on her shoulder, glanced back at me and gave a slight, mocking arch of his eyebrow. The room was silent, the stares of the guests like needles on my skin. I turned to face the crowd, my expression unreadable. “Ladies and gentlemen, I sincerely apologize. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, the engagement party cannot continue. Thank you for coming, and I’m sorry for the inadequate hospitality.” After the room had cleared, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. The screen read: Mr. Vance. I answered. His voice, a low growl of barely contained rage, erupted from the other end. “Lucas! What in the hell do you think you’re doing? I entrusted my precious daughter to you, not so you could humiliate her like this! I had to miss the party for a business trip, and you turn it into a complete disaster?” “Mr. Vance,” I replied calmly, “at our engagement party, Caleb Reed produced a procreation agreement and demanded I sign it, stating that Sienna had promised to have his child.” The line went dead silent. All I could hear was his heavy breathing. A few seconds later, his voice returned, but the tone had changed. It was now loud and blustering, a transparent attempt to sound commanding. “And that’s it? That’s what this is about? Caleb is Sienna’s godbrother! They grew up together, they’re incredibly close! We all know he’s just a kid at heart! He was just joking, testing to see if you were truly committed to Sienna!” His words came out in a rush, as if rehearsed, but I could hear the slight tremor in his voice. “Just a test?” I repeated, my tone flat. He seemed to flinch at the word. “What else could it be?” he yelled. “Do you honestly think he’s trying to cuckold you? If that was his plan, would he announce it in public? You’re overthinking this! Sienna was right, you’re just too sensitive! Now, you go and apologize to Sienna and Caleb and clear the air. Or else I…” I didn’t want to hear the rest of his nonsense. I hung up.

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After the amnesia, I stopped controlling Caden. We coexisted like separate planets, never colliding. He devoted all his resources to paving a golden path for Marla Baldwin’s stardom. People warned me, “Stop faking amnesia, Sasha, or you’ll lose your place as Mrs. Pierce.” I’d just smile. Trying to get me killed? I finally had a life of leisure and endless money. When he crashed his car back home, I was overseas following my favorite band on tour. His best friend called, begging me to return. I faked panic: “Oh my god, is he okay? I’ll take the next flight!” By the time he was discharged, I still hadn’t come back. When I finally returned, I wore an apologetic look and lied: “My wallet was stolen right after I landed. I had nothing but my phone. I’m so sorry.” But he just stared at me, took my hand, his eyes red. “Can we stop fighting, Sasha? Please?” 1 Marla Baldwin, starring in a blockbuster fantasy series, was the number one trending topic. The comments were a sea of her fans and paid bots, all recounting the hardships she’d endured over the years. They claimed she’d finally made it. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a plush VIP hospital suite, gently touching the bandage on my head. “Oh. My. God.” Gazing around the opulent room, a grin spread across my face, my eyes gleaming. “Did I just wake up a millionaire?” Just then, a nurse walked in. I quickly pointed to my head. “Hey, miss! When can I get out of here?” She spoke softly. “We’ll probably need to observe you for another two or three days. If there are no adverse reactions, you’ll be free to go.” I waved a dismissive hand. “Perfect, then I can leave now. I feel great.” I fluttered my eyelashes at her. “Pretty please?” She blinked, momentarily stunned, before saying, “Let me get the doctor to take a look. If he says you’re okay, you can be discharged.” “Awesome, thank you!” After the nurse left, I craned my neck to grab my phone. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. Holy crap. 99+ notifications. My vision is a little blurry, so I brought the screen closer. Pinned at the very top was a contact labeled: Hubby. There was one unread message: If you keep this up, we’re getting a divorce. Divorce?! The next second, I was calling my mom. As soon as she picked up, I blurted out, “Did you win the lottery or something?” “You ungrateful brat! You need to tell that Caden of yours to give your brother—” I hung up before she could finish. Next, I called my dad. Same question, same answer. By 3:33 PM, I had confirmed that I hadn’t struck it rich. The wealthy one was the “Hubby” who wanted to divorce me. I immediately checked my bank account. After counting the staggering number of zeroes, I went back to read the chat history with “Hubby.” I almost fainted. Seriously, did I have my head slammed in a car door before I woke up? I had been begging—actually begging—my cheating husband to come back home. “Unbelievable!” I pressed my fingertips to my temples dramatically. “When did I become so pathetic?” I walked into the bathroom and stared at my haggard reflection. “Sasha,” I said to the mirror, “when did you become this person? Begging for love? Have you completely lost your mind?” Once the doctor cleared me for discharge, I made a beeline for the nearest luxury mall for a complete makeover. I bought ten heavy gold bangles in one go, five for each wrist. The sales associate, seeing how extravagant I was, was smiling so hard her eyes disappeared. She showered me with an endless stream of compliments. When I left the mall, I was practically radiating the decadent scent of money. Magnificent. Next stop: an exclusive gentlemen’s club. I walked in with a briefcase full of cash. I fanned a thick stack of bills and used it to tilt one of the model’s chins up. “Do you like me?” His eyes lit up like laser beams. “Darling, I like you more than anyone,” he purred. “You’re gorgeous, you have an amazing body… who wouldn’t be obsessed with you? If someone isn’t, they must be blind.” I turned to another. “Do you love me?” He practically threw himself at my feet. “After my own mother, you are the person I love and care for most in this world.” I held out a wad of cash, smiling as I had them fan me with it. See? Love is easy. When you have money, you can have any kind of love you want. These guys were so smooth, they could sell water to a drowning man. I was so giddy I couldn’t tell which way was up. 2 Relying on a faint flicker of memory, I found my way back to an opulent, sprawling villa. My legs felt like jelly, my heart pounding in my chest. “Holy crap, is that a fountain? And a colonnade? Wow, and a garden… and a swimming pool!” The smile on my face stretched wider. This is my house. I pushed open the heavy front door. The foyer was dark. I switched on my phone’s flashlight, fumbling along the wall for a light switch. Before I could find it, a piercing scream echoed through the hall. “Ah!” My heart leaped into my throat. My knees went weak from the shock, and I leaned against the wall, peering toward the source of the sound. The next second, the lights flickered on. I squinted against the sudden brightness. When my eyes adjusted, I saw a man with a woman huddled in his arms. They were too far away for me to see clearly. The man’s voice was cold, laced with impatience. “What is it this time? Threatening to jump off the roof? Slit your wrists?” Before I could process what was happening, the woman beside him shrank back as if terrified of me, her big, watery eyes shimmering with unshed tears. I held up my hands. “Whoa, sorry to interrupt. Didn’t see a thing in the dark. I’ll just… head upstairs.” “You two carry on.” With that, I turned and bolted up the stairs as if my life depended on it. Following another hazy memory, I found a bedroom and slipped inside. Once again, I found myself marveling, “This room is huge.” After a shower, I came out to find someone else in the room. It was the man from downstairs. I guessed he must be “Hubby” from my phone—Caden Pierce. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he leaned against the wall, staring at me coldly. “What’s the new game?” Before I could speak, he sneered. “Amnesia?” I knew that even if I showed him the doctor’s official diagnosis, he wouldn’t believe me. So I just waved my hands frantically. “Nope, not at all! I’m perfectly fine!” Silence descended upon the room. I had no feelings for him, no memories of him. To me, he was just some guy standing in my room. I asked hesitantly, “Was there something else?” If not, you can leave. I highly doubted a cheating man would want to stick around anyway. He lazily lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Weren’t you the one who was begging me to come home?” “Heh, well, if you’re busy, you’re free to go.” I offered a dry laugh. He shot me an icy glare before disappearing into the bathroom. I sat on the bed, scrolling through my phone, trying to piece together my life from the endless text messages. It turned out Marla Baldwin was Caden’s childhood sweetheart. But her family went bankrupt during college. She didn’t get into the same university as him, and their youthful romance was buried by circumstance. When they met again, she was a struggling extra in Hollywood, while he was the CEO of the Pierce Corporation. It was a story straight out of a romance novel. He felt sorry for her past and wanted to give her the glittering career she deserved. I was just the villain who had thrown a wrench in their fairytale. I had publicly accused Marla of being a homewrecker. Her rivals seized the opportunity, fanning the flames of the scandal, and she was nearly driven out of the industry. I did a quick search. The whole affair ended with me issuing a public apology. The official statement claimed it was all a misunderstanding, that Marla had not interfered in our marriage. What a load of crap. How touching. How noble of him to protect her. I yawned, deciding to go to sleep before he came out of the bathroom. If I was asleep, it wouldn’t be awkward. … The next morning, I woke up alone. After breakfast, I casually asked the housekeeper, Maria, “What do I usually do around this time?” “Oh.” Maria paused, thinking for a long moment before choosing her words carefully. “Ma’am, you would typically go to Mr. Pierce’s office?” “To work?” “Ah, no.” I got the picture. For the next few weeks, Caden never came home. I, on the other hand, made friends with a few wealthy wives. They took me to exclusive clubs, high tea, and lavish spas. “It’s about time you finally saw the light,” one of them said. Her name was Clara, a stunningly beautiful woman. I shook my head internally. Men. They have a beautiful, fragrant flower at home, but they still can’t resist the temptation of trash on the street. She slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. The handsome young actor sitting beside her quickly held out an ashtray. The model next to me was just as attentive, picking up a strawberry and holding it to my lips. “Darling,” he whispered, “have a strawberry.” Then he leaned closer to my ear. “Want to play a game?” My interest was piqued. “What kind of game?” The model had soft, androgynous features and a captivating smile. I found myself staring for a moment. He leaned in, but before he could say a word, the door to our private room was kicked open with a violent crash. A man in a black suit stormed in, his face a mask of fury. He lunged forward and punched the actor square in the jaw. I gasped, covering my mouth. Clara and the other wives, however, seemed completely unfazed. The actor didn’t dare fight back. Finally, Clara, examining her manicure with an air of boredom, spoke. “Are you done? If so, get out. You’re scaring my friends.” In the dim light of the room, the sliver of yellow light from the hallway illuminated the man’s pale face. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over Clara’s shoulders, then grabbed her arm. “Come home with me.” After Clara left, I asked the remaining wives, “What was that all about?” One of them laughed bitterly. “The classic double standard. He’s allowed to play with fire, but she’s not even allowed to light a match.” As we left the club, I tilted my head at the model beside me. “Why do you work here?” He smiled, his answer simple. “I need the money.” “Are you clean?” I asked. He paused for a second, as if processing the question, then nodded. “Yes.” I smiled back. “Alright. I’ll give you ten thousand a month. Be mine.” His lips parted slightly. “Thank you,” he said. “What’s your name? Your real name.” “Leo.” 3 The day Caden and Marla Baldwin’s names exploded across the internet, Leo and I were up at 4 AM. We were chasing a sunrise. There’s a road in Northwood that’s surrounded by the ocean on three sides. He drove a scooter, and I sat beside him in the sidecar. The road was dotted with others like us, all seeking the dawn. The horizon was already set ablaze with a magnificent crimson and gold. Palm trees lined the road, swaying in the gentle breeze. At 5 AM, a crowd gathered on the beach. For nearly twenty minutes, we watched. A sun like a salted egg yolk slowly ascended from the sea, its light brilliant but not blinding. When I got back to the villa, I collapsed onto the bed and fell instantly asleep. I was jolted awake by the incessant buzzing of my phone. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “For crying out loud!” “Aaargh! So annoying!” I grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Finally, I unlocked my phone. Messages were flooding in from people I knew and people I didn’t, all asking if Caden and I were getting divorced. The general sentiment was: “You can’t keep faking this amnesia, Sasha. If you do, your spot as Mrs. Pierce is going to be up for grabs.” I scoffed internally. Are you trying to get me killed? I finally have a life where I don’t have to work and still have money to burn. I scratched my head, took a deep breath, and opened up social media. Well, what do you know. The number one trending topic was #CadenAndMarla. Apparently, one of their old high school classmates had posted a video as part of a viral trend called ‘Seventeen-Year-Old Daydreams.’ The video transitioned to a photo of the user in their old classroom. In the background, several other students in uniforms were captured in the shot. I looked down at the photo, which fans had enlarged and digitally enhanced for clarity. You could see Marla’s face perfectly. The girl was looking up at the boy standing before her, her eyes bright with an adoring smile. The boy was leaning casually against the blackboard at the back of the room, his head slightly bowed, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. The comments section was on fire. “Is this a scene from a Netflix teen drama? I’m invested.” “So all those ‘coincidences’ weren’t coincidences at all. Caden has been her guardian angel in Hollywood this whole time.” “OMG, tell us more! This is so sweet!” “But wait, isn’t Caden married? What does that make them? Is Marla not the other woman here?” Amidst the sea of fans shipping this ‘reunited lovers’ fantasy, a rare voice of dissent emerged. But people only want to hear what they want to hear, see what they want to see. Anytime a comment didn’t fit their fairytale narrative, they would reconstruct their fantasy world with a barrage of “I heard” and “from what I understand.” “The wife isn’t nearly as pretty as Marla. And I heard she used some dirty tricks to marry into the Pierce family in the first place. A family like that would never have accepted her otherwise.” “I agree. The fact that Caden and Marla found each other again proves that even fate couldn’t stand to keep them apart.” The comments flew back and forth, but my mind was a complete blank. I couldn’t even remember how Caden and I met, let alone how we got married. I scratched my head. Why would the heir to a massive fortune marry me? Didn’t his parents object? I couldn’t find an answer, so I gave up trying. That evening, I was waiting for Leo outside the Northwood Institute of Technology. He had taken a year off from school due to family issues but had recently re-enrolled. He was wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt over a white t-shirt. A sharp pain lanced through my head. A fuzzy image flickered at the edge of my vision. “Hey, have you been waiting long?” I shook my head slightly. “Not at all. Any good places to eat around here?” “Feel like some barbecue? A new place just opened up, I hear it’s really good.” “Sounds perfect.” The Institute of Technology was right next to Northwood University. As we passed by the university’s main gate, I slowed to a stop. The familiar entrance felt like a dream. Leo asked softly, “Sasha? What’s wrong?” “I think… I think I used to go to school here.” Just as we were about to leave, a warm, elderly voice called out from behind us. “Is that you, Sasha?” I turned. An old man pushing a bicycle was walking towards us, a cheerful grin on his face. “The last time you two visited was for the alumni event a few years ago! Don’t tell me you came all this way just to see this old man?” I bit my lip. The whole amnesia thing sounded ridiculous to most people. So I just smiled. “Of course, Professor. We came to see you. How have you been?” The professor waved his hand with a laugh. “I’m doing great, just great. I know Caden is a busy man. And who is this young fellow?” He gestured toward Leo. “A friend of mine,” I said. “He goes to the tech institute next door.” “A pleasure to meet you, young man.” Leo bowed his head slightly. “Professor.” “Yes, yes,” the professor nodded, his kind eyes twinkling as he looked at me. “My, how time flies. It feels like just yesterday you two were freshmen. That boy, Caden, ran all over Riverton in the middle of the night just to collect a full set of those character dolls for you, and he had a major competition the next day. Ah, to be young. And now, look at you, married for five years.” My smile froze on my face. I’m twenty-eight this year. The professor continued, lost in his memories. “I wanted him to stay on for his master’s, his Ph.D. He joined my research lab as a freshman—a true genius, one of a kind. But his parents were against it. He told me he had to go out there and build a future for you both.” Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through my heart. An image flashed in my mind. A boy in a blue shirt, darting through unfamiliar streets. Then, a bright, teasing voice echoed in my ears: Hey, going for that sun-kissed look? I thought I was too pale myself, mind if I join? “Well, look at the time,” the professor said, snapping me back to the present. “I have to get to my class. You two should come by and visit this old man when you have a chance.” I smiled. “We will. Please take care of yourself.” After the professor left, Leo noticed my pale face. “Sasha, are you okay? You don’t look so well.” “I’m fine. Just… remembered some things.” The Northwood night was a dazzling spectacle, with golden lights illuminating the city’s grand, European-style architecture. Clara was drunk. I went to pick her up. A waiter led me to a private room. She was slumped on the floor, her head resting on the table, her curly hair splayed out around her. I had no idea what had happened to make her drink this much. Hearing the door, she lifted her head groggily, her voice slurred. “Sasha? Is that you?” “Yeah, it’s me. Come on, I’m taking you home.” “Home?” She blinked, staring at me with a vacant expression. Then, a bitter smile twisted her lips. “Right. My home. The one where I’m all alone.” As she laughed, something seemed to occur to her. She fumbled with her phone and held it out to me. The screen displayed an email from a university abroad. An acceptance letter. “I’m going to study overseas.” My jaw dropped. “Clara, that’s amazing! Congratulations! I’ll have to come visit you.” “You better. I’ll show you my campus.” But she didn’t look happy. I glanced at the empty bottles scattered around the room. “Isn’t this the school you’ve always dreamed of?” “Hmm? What makes you say that?” “You just don’t seem very happy about it.” She froze at my words, then threw her head back and laughed. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… surreal.” I looked at her, confused, as she began to tell me her story.

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My weddings to Seraphina always ended in disaster. The first time, my drink was spiked with rat poison. I had a seizure on the spot, becoming the laughingstock of high society. The second time, I was stabbed three times at the altar. To this day, I still have to wear a urostomy bag. The third time, an SUV plowed into the wedding venue, crushing my tibia and ending my racing career for good. … And every single one of these “accidents” was, without exception, the handiwork of Seraphina’s mentally challenged childhood friend, Mason. Whenever I showed a flicker of anger or hurt, she was always the first to scold me. “Mason was injured saving my life. He has the mind of a six-year-old. Can you please stop picking on a child?” This time, Mason simply set the chapel on fire. I threw myself over Seraphina to shield her, and my entire body was covered in horrific burns. Seraphina stayed by my side for a whole month. But as I was being discharged, I overheard her talking to a doctor friend. “Just prescribe him whatever. Don’t let him heal too quickly.” Her friend was stunned. “But he was this badly injured trying to save you.” Seraphina cut her off. “His sacrifice is nothing compared to Mason’s.” “I just can’t stand seeing him bully Mason. He caused Mason to burn his hand, so he deserves to be punished.” Her friend gasped. “And… the other times?” Seraphina answered without a second thought. “I taught Mason how to do all of it. His mind is permanently stuck at age six. I have to teach him how to fight back, how to protect himself.” My breath hitched. All this time, all my suffering… had been a gift from the woman I loved most. If that’s the case, then I’ll just leave. 1 As I turned to walk away, the woman continued, savoring her words. “Julian made Mason drink expired milk, giving him food poisoning until he was foaming at the mouth. So I taught Mason how to drug him, to humiliate him in public, too.” “He caused Mason to get a small cut that bled, so I made sure he felt that pain a thousand times over.” “He was always showing off his race cars in front of Mason, making him feel inferior. So I made sure he could never be a race car driver again.” My fists clenched, my eyes burning red. Her friend sighed. “If you don’t love him anymore, why do you keep trying to marry him?” Seraphina’s tone turned weary. “He sold his house to help me start my company, and he’s been with me for so many years. I can’t be too cruel.” “But this is the last time. Once I’ve calmed Mason down, I’ll take Julian abroad for the wedding. It’s the least I can do to give him some closure.” I don’t remember how I left. When I finally snapped out of my daze, the sky was dark. A few voice messages from Seraphina were on my phone. “Julian, you’re a grown man. Are you seriously playing the disappearing act?” “Can you stop this? I’ve been looking for you all day. Come home.” I exited the chat and saw a post from a mutual friend. It was a picture of Seraphina and Mason, clearly having spent the entire day at Disneyland. I was sitting on a bench right outside the hospital. If she had really been looking for me, how could she not have found me? A cold night wind blew past, and a deep, relentless ache throbbed in my amputated leg. I suddenly remembered the first month after the amputation. I was a wreck, completely broken. Seraphina would kiss my stump countless times, whispering tender promises. “Julian, from now on, I’ll be your crutch.” To appease my anger at Mason, she took the blame herself, carving a piece of flesh from her own leg right in front of me. I thought she loved me. How else could she cry before I did whenever I felt the searing pain of a phantom limb? She even established a dedicated research team to design my prosthetic leg. She set up a charity foundation in my name, all to help me get back on my feet. But now I know. All that sweet, tender care was laced with a thousand calculated deceptions. Just then, a notification popped up on my phone: ticket purchase successful. A small measure of calm settled over me. I looked up to see fireworks exploding in the night sky, spelling out Mason’s name in glittering sparks. The light was blindingly bright. My back, scarred and burned from the fire, began to ache with a phantom pain. I remembered then. Today was Mason’s birthday. If it weren’t for the fact that at his birthday party last year, he’d “playfully” pushed me down a flight of stairs, giving me a concussion and making me miss the most important race of my life, I wouldn’t have remembered this day so vividly. It was past midnight when I got home. Sounds of laughter and splashing came from the bathroom. The maid looked at me nervously. “Mr. Mason won’t let us touch him. The madam is helping him bathe.” I froze, struck by lightning. No wonder I would wake up in the hospital in the middle of the night to find Seraphina gone for hours. I fought down the volcanic rage threatening to erupt from my chest, forcing myself not to imagine the intimate scene unfolding behind that door. But then I heard Mason’s happy shout from inside. “I love taking a bath with my big sister!” It was followed by a muffled grunt from Seraphina, her voice strained with restraint. “Be good, Mason. This part of you is only for your sister and the maids to see. Don’t let anyone else touch you here, understand?” “And you can’t touch my… my chest, either.” Mason planted a loud, wet kiss on Seraphina’s cheek. She let out a soft laugh. The sound of running water resumed. I walked into the bedroom, and what I saw there nearly drove me insane. 2 My parents’ photos, the ones I kept hidden in the closet, were now pinned to the wall. Countless darts punctured their faces. They were the last pictures I had of them. My fingers trembled as I pulled out the darts. I clutched the mutilated photos to my chest and sobbed. Meanwhile, the two in the bathroom were still playing. I shot to my feet and stormed to the bathroom door. Just then, Seraphina emerged, helping a naked Mason out. His body was pressed tightly against hers. The moment he saw me, he clapped his hands and yelled, “The cripple’s back!” I glared at him, the air sucked from my lungs. Before I could say a word, Seraphina spoke first. “Mason has the mind of a child. I was just helping him with his bath. There’s no need to look at us like that.” She turned and gently laid Mason on the bed. With practiced ease, she dried his body and helped him into his pajamas. She attended to every detail, even applying his lotion herself. Mason looked at me with smug pride and pouted. “Sister promised she’d only ever bathe me, right?” Seraphina smiled without hesitation. “Yes, I promised.” I stood there, clutching the ruined photos, a crushing weight settling on my chest. No wonder when I fell and passed out in the hospital bathroom, she would rather call a nurse than come in and help me herself. She was keeping a promise to Mason. She cared so much about her promise to him, but she’d conveniently forgotten the one she made to me ten years ago, in that tiny, rundown apartment. She’d sworn through her tears that she would love me with her life. Standing behind them, my voice was a low murmur. “Seraphina, let’s get a divorce.” The room fell silent. After a long moment, Seraphina tucked Mason into bed. She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “There, you go to sleep now.” Then, she grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. The force of her grip tore open the freshly scabbed wounds on my body. She shoved me against the wall in the dim hallway. “Julian, I’ve had a long day. Don’t start this now.” I met her eyes, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips. “Oh? Is that because you were looking for me all day?” Seraphina looked away, her voice a muddled attempt at placating me. “Julian, I’ve already made the wedding arrangements. We’ll go abroad this time, without Mason. There won’t be any more accidents.” “Don’t be angry, okay?” She reached for my hand but froze, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly before she quickly pulled away. I understood instantly. She had felt my scars. She was repulsed by the hideous, worm-like ridges of burned flesh on my skin. Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, a look of pity crossed her face. She started to pull me into an embrace… But a sudden cry from Mason echoed from the bedroom. Seraphina immediately spun around and rushed back in, knocking me to the floor in her haste. She didn’t even notice. I sat there on the cold floor and started to laugh, a low, hollow sound. I pulled out my phone and called my lawyer. “Draw up the divorce papers for me. And I want you to sell all of my shares in Pierce Industries to Seraphina’s biggest rival.” A bitter, ironic laugh escaped my lips. “Roxanne Hawthorne… I think she’s going to love this little gift.” Through the crack in the door, I saw Seraphina coaxing Mason to sleep, right there on the bed with him. In the dim light, I thought I saw a flash of a triumphant, mocking smile on Mason’s face. A terrifying possibility struck me. I called for the maid and asked her to pull up the security footage. I was told the cameras were broken. My brow furrowed. “Where are my clothes and luggage?” I asked. The maid looked uneasy. “Mr. Mason… burned them.” As if afraid of my reaction, she quickly added, “The madam said to let him. For fun.” The knot of rage in my chest tightened, my fingers curling into fists. I went to the guest room and didn’t fall asleep until three in the morning. I hadn’t been asleep for long when I was jolted awake by hot milk splashing across my face. Mason lunged at me, his fists raining down on my body. “You damned cripple! This is my house! Get out!” I gasped in pain, pushing myself up and slapping him hard across the face. The next second, a searing sting exploded on my own cheek. 3 Seraphina stared at her hand, stunned. When she met my cold, resolute gaze, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “Julian, I didn’t mean to—” Mason burst into loud, theatrical sobs, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Sister, the bad man hit me! It hurts! I need kisses to make it better!” Seraphina’s expression immediately hardened. She turned, cupped Mason’s face in her hands, and gently blew on his cheek. “Shh, it’s okay, Mason. Sister will kiss it and make the pain go away.” Then, she looked at me. “Apologize.” Mason lifted his chin smugly. “Did you hear that? Seraphina told you to apologize to me!” In that moment, I saw it clearly in his eyes—the undisguised hatred and mockery. That wasn’t the look of someone with the mental capacity of a six-year-old. It was the same look of jealous resentment he used to give me back when he was pathetically trailing after Seraphina and me. Seraphina had always complained to me about Mason’s obsessive advances. But after the boating accident, after he suffered a severe brain injury while “saving” her, her attitude did a complete one-eighty. No matter what Mason did, she demanded that I endure it. But my parents had also died in that accident. They gave their life jackets to Seraphina and Mason so she could get back to me, and then they were swept away by the waves, their bodies never recovered. Mason lost his memory. I lost my parents. And now, it seemed, I was about to lose the woman I loved, too. I stared defiantly into Seraphina’s eyes. “Not happening.” Mason’s wails grew louder. “Sister, he’s mean!” Seraphina’s eyes darkened. She patiently soothed him, “It’s okay, it’s okay, Mason, don’t cry.” “How do you want to punish the bad man? Sister will help you, okay?” With that, she dropped the gentle facade, her voice laced with impatience. “Julian, I’m giving you one last chance. Apologize to Mason!” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. I lifted my pant leg, revealing the cold metal of my prosthetic. I lifted my shirt, exposing the urostomy bag. I pulled down my scarf, showing the gnarled, hideous scar on my neck. My eyes were red as I asked in a dead, flat voice, “Seraphina, is this not enough?” “Punish me? For what? What exactly did I do wrong?” A look of shock flashed across Seraphina’s face. She quickly averted her gaze, unable to meet mine. But a moment later, her eyes darted back to my face, searching for something. Finally, she said stiffly, “Mason is just a child. He was only playing.” “Do you really need to hold a grudge over it?” “Besides, it’s not like I didn’t compensate you. You were always happy to accept the company shares, weren’t you?” There it was again. Every time Mason hurt me, she told me not to pick on a “child.” Then she would throw money at me. Not as compensation, but as a handout. A dismissal. If I hadn’t overheard her confession, I might have gone on believing I was the petty one. Seeing the raw pain in my eyes, Seraphina’s breathing quickened. She sighed, about to step forward to comfort me. But Mason immediately started scrambling towards the window. “If sister won’t get revenge for me, then I don’t like sister anymore!” “I’m going to find Mommy and Daddy!” Seraphina’s face went white with terror, her voice shaking. “Mason, get down from there! Now!” Her eyes were red with panic. “Get down, and I’ll promise you anything!” Mason pointed at me. “I want to ride the doggy! And I want to hear the doggy bark!” Seraphina understood immediately. “Fine,” she agreed instantly. “I’ll make him be a doggy for you to ride. Just please, get down.” She then turned to me, her expression matter-of-fact. “What are you still standing there for? Can’t you see Mason is about to kill himself?” “Get on the floor. We need to calm him down.” The word “dog” sent an uncontrollable tremor through my body. 4 Vivid images of my childhood bullies flashed through my mind. Their voices, calling me a dog, forcing me to crawl on the ground, echoed from the depths of my memory, a battering ram against my heart. The suffocating feeling was so intense I didn’t even notice my fingernails digging into my palms, drawing blood. After ten years together, Seraphina knew better than anyone where the scars on my wrists came from. Every time she touched them, her eyes would well up with tears, and she would swear that the people who had bullied me would pay. But now, she had become one of them. When I didn’t move, she called for the bodyguards. Her voice was merciless. “Julian, I gave you a chance.” “Don’t blame me for being cruel.” At her signal, a bodyguard kicked me hard in my good knee. With a sickening thud, I collapsed to the ground. I struggled violently, but Seraphina leaned in close, her voice a cold, low whisper in my ear. “Julian, just play along. We’re just appeasing Mason.” My eyes blazed as I gritted out, “Seraphina, divorce! I want a divorce!” She grabbed my chin, her grip like steel. “Julian, I’ve been too soft on you all these years. You live in my house, eat my food. It’s time you learned your place.” “Divorce me? Don’t forget, your grandmother is in that expensive nursing home. And I’m the one who pays the bills every year.” The thought of my grandmother stopped me cold. I went limp, giving up the fight. Seraphina let out a soft chuckle, her fingers tracing my swollen cheek. “That’s better, Julian. We’re a family. Mason is my savior, which makes him your savior, too.” “You should never, ever have laid a hand on him.” “And when you do something wrong, there are always consequences.” Seraphina instructed the bodyguards to lift Mason onto my back. She even took the leash from Mason’s dog and fastened it around my neck. Mason shrieked with delight, whipping my back and yanking my hair. “Crawl!” he screamed. “Crawl!” I don’t know how long it went on. From dawn till dusk, I crawled in circles, my knees leaving bloody trails on the pristine floor. Mason, seemingly tireless, rode on my back, his laughter echoing through the grand villa. And Seraphina just sat there, watching his smile with a look of utter adoration, a foolish grin on her own face. She even took out her camera, capturing every moment of his “joy.” The prosthetic leg ground against my raw flesh, my wounds tore open again, and the urostomy bag broke, filling the air with a foul stench. Black spots danced in my vision. At the brink of exhaustion, I looked at Seraphina and begged, “I’m sorry. It was my fault.” “I apologize.” But Seraphina remained seated, a regal, distant figure, her gentle smile directed only at Mason. “Mason, are you happy with this punishment?” Mason finally slid off my back. I breathed a sigh of relief. But his next words sent a chill of pure terror through me. “Sister, I forgive the ugly monster!” “As a reward, can he go play with my pet snakes?” Seraphina pinched his cheek affectionately. “Of course. Whatever makes you happy.” My eyes widened in disbelief. “Seraphina, I’ll die.” She replied with chilling nonchalance. “They’re pet snakes. Not venomous.” I scrambled, trying to crawl away. But I was pinned to the floor. Seraphina gently stroked what little was left of my hair. “Julian, after this, we’ll go abroad for our wedding.” Mason excitedly had the bodyguards drag me to the temperature-controlled room where he kept his hundreds of snakes. As they shoved me through the door, a manic, triumphant gleam shone in Mason’s eyes. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You figured it out, didn’t you, Julian?” “Tsk. In that case, you can go die.” Instantly, the scent of my blood drew countless snakes toward me, their tongues flicking, their bodies coiling around my limbs. Through the crack in the door, I saw Seraphina’s silhouette as she led Mason away. I closed my eyes in utter despair… The next morning, Seraphina came downstairs holding two plane tickets, frowning at the empty dining table. She looked at the maid. “Didn’t the master get up to make me breakfast?” The maid trembled. “M-Ma’am… isn’t he still in the snake room?” Seraphina shot up from her chair, her voice sharp. “What? Didn’t I tell you to let him out!” A thick, cold dread began to creep into her heart. The snakes weren’t venomous, but the larger pythons… they could eat a person. Just then, her assistant hurried in, a strange look on her face. “Ma’am, Mr. Mason’s latest intelligence test results just arrived from the lab.” “And… and this is from Mr. Julian. It’s a divorce agreement…”

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I meant to ask my brother for money but texted my boss by mistake. 【Heyyy, big bro~】 Boss: 【?】 Me: 【Can you spare some cash for your sis?】 Boss: 【?】 I panicked and lied: 【My phone’s broken, can’t come to work.】 He sent $500. Me: 【A bit stingy… Going broke?】 Boss: 【?】 Then he sent $5,000. My tone changed: 【Love you! xoxo】 I kept asking him for money occasionally. A month later, I posted online thanking my brother. Then my real brother DM’d me: 【?】 【Channel, am I not your brother anymore?】 【Who’s this imposter?】 【Don’t I give you enough? Or are you leaving?】 I checked my contacts and saw two identical profile pics. Finally, I understood how the monk felt meeting the real and fake Monkey Kings… 1 Fresh out of college, I was quickly initiated into the world of paying to work. Rent, utilities, food, clothes, makeup—every single expense was a major blow to my wallet. After a month of this, I was on the verge of being too broke to even afford my job. Then, I remembered: I have a brother. My brother, Leo, isn’t exactly a looker, but he’s incredibly generous. He’s three years older than me and started his own business while he was still in college. So, by the time I was a student, he was already the owner of a small, successful company. Every month, after getting my three-thousand-dollar allowance from my dad, I’d turn right around and cry poverty to my brother. He’d always send me five thousand, no questions asked. He was more reliable than my dad, whose finances were tightly controlled by my mom. But my brother was single, so who else was he going to spoil but me? With that thought, I confidently hit him up for money again. His profile picture was a solid black square, easy to find. I located it in a second. I had accidentally factory-reset my phone a while back, wiping all my contacts and chat histories. Thankfully, I remembered that my personal ATM had a black profile picture. All our previous transaction records were gone, but no matter. It was time for a new one. 【Heyyy, big bro~】 Black Profile Pic: 【?】 【Something wrong? It’s late.】 It’s been a while since I last asked for money, he’s acting all formal. Looks like I’ll have to ask him for money more often to maintain our sibling bond. Me: 【My dearest big bro~ Spare some change for your little sis.】 Black Profile Pic: 【?】 What’s with all the question marks? He’s usually so quick with the transfers. Is he cutting me off now that I’ve graduated and started working? Not on my watch! I quickly came up with an excuse: 【Bro, my phone broke, I can’t come to work.】 Subtext: I can’t earn money anymore, you have to support me. Then, he sent me five hundred dollars. Me: 【A little stingy, don’t you think? …Are you going broke or something?】 Five hundred? Is he serious? Black Profile Pic: 【?】 The next second, another five thousand dollars came through. My tune changed instantly: 【I knew it! You were just busy and missed a zero~】 【Love you! xoxo】 I want, I get. With the money secured, I went to sleep, content. Completely oblivious to the fact that on the other side of the screen, the man with the black profile picture sat in silence for a long time before finally searching online: 【What does it mean when a new employee asks their boss for money?】 【What does it mean when an employee calls their boss “big bro”?】 【How to maintain a professional subordinate-superior relationship?】 2 Monday morning, company meeting. Our boss, Mr. Sterling, was presenting a PowerPoint, but his eyes kept darting in my direction. The other new hires and I were practically holding our breath. I scribbled in my notebook, pretending to take notes. 【Who do you think Mr. Sterling is looking at?】 New Colleague: 【No idea.】 【But it’s so creepy. His gaze is so intense.】 【None of us have done anything to tick him off, right?】 Me: 【Nope. I’m the newest one here, I haven’t even had the chance to.】 My colleagues exchanged nervous glances, all equally clueless. I thought for a moment: 【Well, bosses are usually a bit weird. It’s probably nothing.】 You have to be a little crazy to be a boss. I’ve heard my brother’s employees complain about him all the time. They call him a ruthless tyrant. For the final part of the meeting, Mr. Sterling added a whole new section to his presentation: “How to Properly Manage Superior-Subordinate Relationships.” “Since we have a batch of new employees who have recently joined us, I’d like to take this opportunity to clarify how to correctly handle the relationship between superiors and subordinates…” Because of this last-minute addition, a two-hour meeting stretched into a four-hour marathon. A colleague whispered, 【Monday meetings are the absolute worst.】 【I thought a young boss wouldn’t be this long-winded…】 Me: 【What is he even talking about? He might as well just give me twenty grand.】 The meeting finally ended with Mr. Sterling’s parting words: “Do not disturb your superiors outside of work hours.” As the painfully long meeting concluded, I stood up to leave. Then, I heard the boss say, “Who’s Channel? Stay behind.” My colleagues shot me a “good luck” look and scurried away. Soon, it was just me and the boss in the empty conference room, staring at each other. Mr. Sterling looked at me for a long time. “So, you’re Channel? I’ll remember that.” I stammered, “Mr. Sterling, is there something you needed?” He cleared his throat. “Did you take in everything I said during the meeting?” Oh, crap, I thought. Is he going to quiz me? I hadn’t heard a single word. But I remained calm, putting on a brave face. “Yes, of course. I took it all in.” I was already planning my escape route: feign dizziness or a sudden muscle spasm. But he didn’t ask me anything. He let out a breath. “Good. As long as you understood.” I seized the opportunity. “Well, if there’s nothing else, sir, I’ll get back to work.” “Mm,” he grunted. I bolted out of there. As he watched me disappear, a muscle in his cheek twitched. Runs fast now, but she wasn’t so shy when she was asking for money last night. She’d better have understood. She’d better keep her distance. I thought being singled out after the meeting was just bad luck, like starting the day off on the wrong foot. I never expected to run into him again at lunch. My luck was just abysmal today. I was in the company cafeteria, happily devouring my lunch. The seat across from me had been a revolving door of colleagues, until finally, Mr. Sterling sat down. “Your phone… looks pretty new,” he commented. I nearly choked on my food. I looked up, and the sight of my boss instantly made my lunch lose its appeal. “Mr…. Mr. Sterling. Hello.” He continued to eye my phone. “Not thinking of getting a new one?” What was that supposed to mean? It’s new, why would I replace it? What was he trying to get at with this small talk? I decided to play along. “Are you offering to buy me one, sir?” Mr. Sterling: “…” He was just trying to make a point, he thought, and now he’s trapped himself. She just keeps taking and taking. But as her boss, he couldn’t exactly say no. Otherwise, she’d start spreading rumors that the company was going under, that he was a cheapskate. After a brief internal struggle, he conceded. “…Alright.” Me: “?” Did I just hear him right? This was too bizarre! Out of all the empty seats, my boss chooses to sit opposite me and then offers to buy me a phone! During my lunch break, I frantically messaged my worldly-wise best friend. Bestie: 【So, he lectures you about professional boundaries in the morning, then asks you to lunch and offers to buy you a phone in the afternoon?】 【He’s speaking in code. His intentions are clear. The man is not giving up!】 Her words sparked a realization. 【You’re saying… he wants to… you know… with me?】 【So that whole speech about professional boundaries was just a load of hypocritical crap!】 【And I thought he was different from other bosses, being so young, handsome, and rich.】 【I can’t believe it…】 Bestie: 【Has he added you on social media? Sent you any creepy messages?】 Me: 【I don’t think he has.】 Even without him adding me, I could already picture his profile picture: some smug guy in a suit. They’re both bosses, why can’t he be more like my brother, with a discreet and mysterious black profile picture? My brother is still the best. I clicked on the black profile picture’s chat again, the transfer records warming my heart. 【Big bro, you’re my savior~】 【I’ll follow you forever!】 Black Profile Pic: 【?】 His replies may be cold. But my brother will always be my rock. 3 I hit up my rock for money every few days. My rock never said a word, just kept sending the money. A month later, my conscience finally kicked in. I posted on my timeline, thanking my brother. I even attached screenshots of all the transfers from the past month. The next second, my actual brother slid into my DMs: 【?】 【Channel, am I not your brother anymore?】 Me: 【?】 Wait a minute… 【Bro, did you change your username?】 My brother: 【I’ve always had this username. Stop changing the subject.】 【Who is this imposter brother you’ve adopted?】 【Do I not give you enough money? Or have you finally decided to fly the coop?】 【You’re asking other people for money?】 Me: 【…】 Other… people?! I frantically searched my chat history, but the chat with the black profile picture was empty. Where did all the transfer records go? Did my phone reset itself again? I exited the chat and saw them. Two identical black profile pictures, side by side in my contact list. It was in that moment that I finally understood the helplessness the monk must have felt when he encountered the real and fake Monkey Kings. I… wait… what… My hand trembling, I clicked on the second black profile picture. All the transfer records from the past month were from him. If you’re my brother, then who is this? The first black profile picture popped up with a new message. 【Channel, answer me.】 I bit my lip. 【How do I know you’re really my brother?】 My brother was so mad he could have laughed. 【…】 【My name is Leo, I’m six-foot-one, and I have a money-guzzling younger sister named Channel.】 【When you were seven, I caught you stealing money from my piggy bank. You denied it and ate the coins.】 【When you were nine, you found out I had a girlfriend and blackmailed me for two thousand dollars.】 【When you were fifteen, you sold me out to your best friend for five hundred bucks.】 Him: 【Need I go on?】 【Or should we just get a DNA test?】 Even through the screen, I could feel my brother Leo’s exasperation. This was definitely my brother. So, the other black profile picture was… Just as I was wondering, the first person to like my post, a colleague, messaged me. 【You’ve been holding out on us…】 【Is it too late to start sucking up to the future boss’s wife?】 I was completely lost. 【Boss’s… wife?】 Colleague: 【Did you forget to block me from your post?】 【I saw all those transfers from Mr. Sterling.】 【Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I just want to be on your good side! If you don’t let me, I’ll… please! Just let me be on your good side!】 I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping this was all a bad dream. I hadn’t blocked anyone from that post. I just wanted to show off my rich, generous brother. But she was saying… the black profile picture was Mr. Sterling? Speak of the devil. Mr. Sterling had also seen the post. He messaged me: 【Delete the post. I’ll give you money.】 He could have fired me, but instead, he offered me money. I quickly deleted the post, thankful that not many people had seen it. Then, a transfer from the black-profile-pictured Mr. Sterling came through. Me: “…” I didn’t delete the post for money! This was a mess I couldn’t get out of. No wonder I’d been feeling like Mr. Sterling was dropping financial hints lately. I thought he was trying to proposition me, but it turns out I was the one shamelessly hitting him up for cash. By day, I avoided him like the plague. By night, I was creatively begging him for money. Turns out, I was the real hypocrite. Now that I understood the mistaken-brother fiasco, I spent the whole night composing and deleting messages, trying to figure out how to explain this to Mr. Sterling. It had been a month. Who mistakes their own brother for a whole month? No one would believe me. And the way I’d been asking for money… he probably thought I was trying to seduce him by calling him “big bro.” He had even asked me a few times if I was “tired of trying.” And I remembered my replies were always along the lines of, 【Yes~ Please take care of me, big bro~】 Who wouldn’t misunderstand that… Forget it. What’s done is done. Might as well just go to sleep. When in doubt, sleep on it. 4 The next morning at the office, my colleague pulled me aside, whispering, “Ms. Woods, you’ll have to look out for me from now on.” She was the only one who had seen my post last night. She even handed me a cup of bubble tea. My heart sank. “If I told you it was all a misunderstanding, a big mix-up, would you believe me?” She beamed. “Of course, of course I believe you!” I’m going to cling to you like my life depends on it. Me: “…” Even an outsider who didn’t know the whole story was convinced. How was I supposed to explain to Mr. Sterling that I really, truly wasn’t trying to sleep my way to the top? I spent the next few days in a daze, consumed by this problem. But before I could come up with a solution, Mr. Sterling came to me. It had been three days, and our chat history was still stuck on the last exchange: him sending me money for deleting the post, which I hadn’t accepted. Mr. Sterling: 【Are you there?】 【Why didn’t you accept the money I sent you?】 【Was it not enough?】 I pretended to be offline. A few minutes later, another five thousand dollars came through. The bright orange of the transfer notification was testing my resolve. I quickly rejected it. Mr. Sterling: 【?】 My Bluetooth speaker was coincidentally playing a sad, romantic ballad. An idea struck me. 【Mr. Sterling, can we just pretend that none of this ever happened?】 A funeral for our love, burying all the memories of you. Burying the memory of the stupid mistakes I made last month. Me: 【I’ll pay you back all the money. From now on, you’ll be my boss, and I’ll be just another insignificant employee.】 I calculated the total amount he’d sent me over the past month. I’d already spent most of it. I quickly borrowed over thirty thousand from my actual brother. Then, I transferred it to Mr. Sterling. Mr. Sterling: 【?】 I let out a breath. That should settle things, right? If I couldn’t explain the past, I could at least clear the debt. Me: 【Don’t worry, sir. I won’t bother you for money anymore.】 【I don’t know what came over me before. Please forgive me.】 Mr. Sterling didn’t reply. I thought that was the end of it. Little did I know, after I fell asleep, my phone was flooded with messages. When I woke up the next morning and saw 99+ notifications from Mr. Sterling, I nearly fainted.

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