Chapter 1 I went with my best friend to a hotel to catch her cheating boyfriend. We yanked the duvet back. But it was Liam’s face staring back at me. His first instinct was to pull the sheet up to cover the face of the woman lying next to him. Only then did he lift his heavy eyelids and snarl viciously at us: “Get the hell out before I make you regret it.” My best friend was terrified. She pulled at my arm, desperately trying to drag me out of the room. But my body was completely rigid. I stood there, staring at him dead in the eye, unable to move a single muscle. Because Liam was my boyfriend. 01 “Wait.” Liam suddenly called out, stopping us in our tracks. He slowly and deliberately lit a cigarette, blew out a ring of smoke, and finally let his gaze land on me. “If a video of this leaks online tonight—no matter who posts it—I’m holding you responsible.” “Did you hear me, Chloe?” Liam said my name, his voice still carrying that lazy, post-coital rasp. “Don’t play games behind my back. It’s annoying.” The moment his words landed in the dead-quiet hotel room, I let out a sudden, low laugh. It sounded jarring. Maya, hiding behind me, tugged frantically at my shirt, sweating bullets. I knew what she was trying to do. She wanted me to get out of there before things escalated. Liam came from serious old money, he had massive connections, and he suffered from severe anger management issues. If he actually lost his temper, he wouldn’t care if you were a man or a woman. And seeing how intensely Liam was protecting the woman in the bed… Maya was genuinely terrified that if I caused a scene, I’d be the one getting hurt. But I didn’t want to leave. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was completely in the right. I had absolutely zero reason to back down, and I refused to! “Liam, you are acting so righteous right now, I’m actually getting confused.” I brushed Maya’s hand away, stepped right up to the edge of the bed, and gave him a mocking, cynical smile. “I’m just really curious… who exactly is the one cheating here?” Who is the one who just got caught red-handed in a hotel bed? Is it not you, Liam, sitting there naked, smoking your post-sex cigarette? Is it me? The one who just burst into this room, fully dressed with my shoes still on? “What the hell is this act?” Why are you yelling at me? Why are you threatening me when YOU are the one who did something wrong? My hands were clenched into fists, my voice shaking so badly I couldn’t keep it steady. Even though I was screaming in my own head not to show weakness. But looking down and seeing Liam sitting in a defensive posture, shielding the woman beside him like she was his most precious treasure, my eyes stung with unbearable pain. I forced out a bitter, self-deprecating smile, tasting pure acid in my mouth. Even my hands were trembling. “I am your goddamn girlfriend!” I screamed at him, my eyes burning red. “If you won’t let me see her, then I’m going to make sure I see her!” “If she has the guts to sleep with someone else’s boyfriend, does she not have the guts to show her face?” The second the words left my mouth, I lunged forward like a maniac, clawing at the duvet to rip it away from the invisible woman. Even if it killed me, I needed to know exactly who had destroyed my life! My movement was too fast, too sudden. Liam was clearly startled. But he reacted instantly. His face went ice-cold, and he grabbed the back of my collar, yanking me backward with brutal force. As I lost my balance and tumbled backward, Liam raised his leg and delivered a vicious, merciless kick squarely to my stomach. The force sent me flying backward, slamming hard onto the floor. A blinding, excruciating pain shot up my tailbone, and I let out a sharp, agonizing scream. “Liam.” My eyes were completely red. Because of the intense pain, my voice was shaking violently, but I still stared at him with absolute stubbornness. I enunciated every single word. “I am your girlfriend!” “And?” A look of profound impatience had already settled over Liam’s face. He frowned, looking down at me from the bed like I was garbage, and asked: “Chloe, is cheating illegal?” 02 “W-what did you just say?” My brain completely short-circuited. I couldn’t process a single thought. I stared at Liam’s perfectly shaped lips, pulling my own into a smile that was uglier than crying. “Liam, what did you just say? What is that supposed to mean?” How could any normal person with a shred of basic morality ask a question like that? But Liam wasn’t even looking at me. He had turned his attention entirely to the lump under the duvet, softly asking if she was okay. It wasn’t until the person under the covers nodded and gave a soft, sweet hum of reassurance that he finally let out a sigh of relief. Only then did he have the time to turn his gaze back to me. The moment our eyes met, looking into his chilling, frosty stare, I felt all the strength drain completely from my body. Liam and I had known each other for five years. We had been together for three. I knew him too well. I knew him so well that it only took one look. I knew, with absolute, terrifying clarity, that the man in front of me didn’t love me anymore. When he looked at me, his eyes no longer held that hidden, affectionate warmth they used to. Instead, they were brimming with thick, suffocating disgust. It looked as though if he had to look at me for one more second, he might actually vomit. That realization made my heart stop completely. I struggled to push myself up from the floor. Even though I already knew the answer, clinging to the tiniest, most pathetic shred of hope, I asked with a trembling voice: “Liam, are you breaking up with me?” “Do you really love this homewrecker that much?” I finally lost control, my voice raising in pitch. I pointed a shaking finger at the figure in the bed, my eyes red and furious. But the very next second, Liam chucked his half-smoked cigarette directly at my face and roared: “Shut up!” “Chloe, this is my absolute last warning to you.” “This is between you and me. Do not drag her into this.” Liam stared at me with pure ice. “She is nothing like you. If I hear one more disgusting word come out of your mouth, I promise you, next time I won’t just tell you to shut up.” “You know me. I always keep my promises.” I stared at him blankly, frozen in place. I didn’t even try to dodge the cigarette, which was still glowing orange at the tip. The cherry hit me perfectly just beneath my right eye, searing a red burn mark into my skin in the blink of an eye. Blistering hot ash scattered from the impact, flying directly into my eye, igniting a violent, piercing agony. In a fraction of a second, my entire right eye was covered in a sheet of crimson red. I slowly, belatedly, reached a hand up to my face and felt something warm. Tears triggered by the pain mixed with blood, streaming down my cheek. Looking at the blood on my fingertips, a sudden, high-pitched ringing erupted in my ears. I couldn’t hear anything anymore. I saw Maya running toward me, her face pale and panicked. I saw the look of absolute, unadulterated disgust on Liam’s face. His expression was dark as thunder, his mouth opening and closing as he seemingly spat out more vicious threats. But I couldn’t hear a single word. It wasn’t until Maya grabbed my hand that the buzzing in my ears finally began to recede, and sound slowly filtered back into my reality. And with it, I heard Liam cursing and spitting out that exact same sentence: “I cheated. Which goddamn law did I break?” He glared at me with cold, dead eyes, pronouncing every word: “Who do you think you are, trying to play judge and jury with me?” “Forget about just being my girlfriend—even if you were my wife, I cheated. So what?!” “You’re acting so crazy, you want me to call the cops so they can arrest me?” My body jerked to a sudden halt. I stared at him in pure, unfiltered disbelief. I stared at this man—the man I had spent the last three years of my life with. Only today, in this exact moment, did I finally realize that despite sharing a bed for three years… I had never truly known who he was. After a long time, a sudden, airy laugh escaped my lips. I replied, my voice floating light as a feather: “Okay. I understand.” “You’re right, Liam. Cheating isn’t illegal.” I looked at him and said, word by word: “So, let’s break up.” Liam froze. 03 Liam looked genuinely taken aback. He frowned, staring at me intently for a long moment. He probably never expected me to be so decisive this time. After a long silence, he lit another cigarette and said coldly: “Fine. Whatever you want.” “Now get the hell out.” As Maya and I turned to leave, he called out to us one last time, repeating his warning: “Make sure you delete the video. I don’t want to see it anywhere else.” I said: “Okay.” Maybe it was because I agreed too quickly, too easily. Liam paused mid-drag, a flash of confusion crossing his face, but he didn’t ask any questions. I walked out of the room and even politely pulled the door shut behind me. The moment the lock clicked into place, I finally let go of Maya’s hand. The tears I had fought so hard to hold back came flooding out, uncontrollable and pathetic. I had to bite down on my lower lip so hard it bled just to suppress the agonizing sobs clawing at my throat. I kept telling myself, Don’t cry. It’s just a cheating scumbag. We broke up. What is there to cry about? A piece of trash like him doesn’t deserve my tears. But no matter how hard I tried to swallow it down, the tears just wouldn’t stop pouring. The pain and grievance churned endlessly in my chest, bringing wave after wave of sharp, stabbing agony that made it impossible to even stand up straight. Liam and I had been together for three entire years. Three years. Even if I had raised a stray dog for three years, I would have developed a deep emotional attachment to it. Let alone a living, breathing human being. He was the man who used to shower me with kisses and hugs every single day. The man who would drop everything he was working on just to travel the world with me. The man who, if I casually mentioned I missed him, would take the earliest possible flight the next morning just to appear in front of me. To be honest, I had imagined so many different futures for Liam and me. I thought we might get married one day. Or maybe we would eventually just drift apart and end things peacefully. But I never, ever imagined that Liam and I would end in such a disgusting, humiliating way. That it would end with him cheating on me, and threatening to destroy my life to protect his mistress. How hilarious. My last three years felt like one massive, elaborate joke. I squatted on the steps outside the hotel, hugging my knees, crying so hard I couldn’t catch my breath, and asked Maya: “Does every relationship end up being this stupid and pathetic?” Maya was wiping my tears with a tissue, sighing heavily. She was just about to answer when her hand suddenly froze. Then, she whispered urgently into my ear: “Stop crying for a second.” “I’ve got an opportunity for you to vent. Wipe your face and stand up right now!” I was yanked to my feet by Maya in a total daze. Before my brain could even process what was happening, I saw Maya, her eyes blazing with pure, unadulterated fury, charge directly at the couple who had just walked out of the hotel doors. It was only when she was right in front of them that I realized the man was Maya’s boyfriend. I barely registered the look of sheer panic on his face. Because the very next second, Maya swung her heavy, studded designer handbag and smashed it directly into his face. “I’ll give you a reason to cheat!” Maya let out a piercing scream, her eyes bloodshot as she roared: “You absolute piece of trash! I’ll give you a reason to cheat! I’ll give you a reason to find a mistress!” Maya grabbed the mistress by the hair and swung her studded bag at her head too. Seeing things escalate rapidly, her boyfriend tried to make a run for it. But Maya lunged, locked her hands around his throat, and slammed him forcefully onto the pavement. What followed was a flurry of brutal, full-force kicks. Her stiletto heels stomped viciously onto his face, then moved lower, stomping frantically on his groin. Finally, after expelling every ounce of her rage, Maya spat directly onto the man’s face on the ground and screamed at the top of her lungs: “Scum! Men are all absolute scum!” “Every single one of you is pure garbage!” After screaming that final sentence, Maya grabbed my hand and sprinted. We ran so fast, so hard, that my tears were completely blown away by the wind. Eventually, we stopped at an intersection. The moment we looked at each other, we both couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Maya panted, trying to catch her breath, and asked me: “Are you still sad?” “A little bit.” I panted back, smiling. “But it’s not my heart that hurts anymore. Mostly, my eye feels like it was burned, and it’s stinging really badly right now.” I probably needed to go to the hospital. “Good. Let it sting.” Maya looked at me, her expression complex. She hailed a cab to take me to the ER, and said: “Remember exactly how this pain feels. Liam gave this to you. Don’t you ever get soft-hearted and get back together with him.” I lowered my eyes, looking at the blood still staining my fingertips, and gave a small, bitter smile. “I won’t.” I would never have anything to do with Liam ever again. I wasn’t that pathetic. I wouldn’t beg for scraps from a man just so he could beat me again. 04 Liam and I were completely finished. My eye ended up being okay, nothing permanently damaging. Just some corneal abrasions. The doctor said I would experience a strong foreign-body sensation, sharp stinging, and constant tearing for a short while. After getting a medical eye patch taped over my eye and picking up some prescription drops, I walked out of the hospital. Maya wanted to take me all the way home, but I refused. Our apartments were in completely opposite directions. If she dropped me off and then went home, it would take her an extra hour. There was no need. She couldn’t win the argument, so she compromised, demanding I text her the second I got inside. “I will,” I smiled, waving goodbye. “Hurry up and get in your Uber, don’t make the driver wait.” Maya nodded and climbed into the backseat. I kept the smile on my face until her car completely disappeared into the traffic. Only then did the smile slowly slide off my face. I knew I shouldn’t be sad. I knew Liam was a piece of trash. He was a scumbag, clear as day, out in the open. But I still couldn’t help it. I was still sad, still in agony. A sour, suffocating feeling wrapped around me until I felt like a bitter, bruised lemon. In a total daze, I walked into a convenience store, bought a tall can of beer, and sat down at the window counter, staring blankly at the people passing by. Right now, I didn’t want to go anywhere. I didn’t want to do anything. I just wanted to completely empty my brain. So I sat in the corner of that convenience store, silently drinking can after can. After three tall boys, I finally managed to suppress the agonizing pain churning in my chest. The side effect was that my head felt incredibly heavy and dizzy. I swayed slightly as I stood up to leave, only to find two sleazy-looking guys with long, dyed-blonde hair suddenly blocking my path. They grinned lecherously, and one of them threw an arm over my shoulder, blowing his foul breath into my face: “Hey beautiful, drinking all by yourself is no fun. Why don’t you come party with us?” Caught off guard, their sudden weight made me stumble. Maybe it was because I only had one working eye, or maybe it was the alcohol, but my vision was spinning wildly. I tried to shove them off, but I couldn’t muster any strength. One of them shot his buddy a highly suggestive grin, then reached out with both arms to grab me. “Get off me!” I was shaking with fury, screaming at them: “Don’t touch me!” “I’ll call the cops!” But not only were they not scared, they actually laughed, boxing me in from both sides and physically dragging me out of the store. The cold night air hit my face, finally clearing some of the alcoholic fog from my brain. I struggled violently, but the harder I fought, the tighter they gripped me. One of them, afraid I would start screaming, clamped a heavy hand over my mouth and started dragging me toward a dark, narrow alleyway. My eyes widened in sheer terror. I fought with everything I had, but two fists are no match for four hands. I had absolutely no way to escape! Panicking, I looked frantically around the street, desperately searching for anyone who could help. As my eyes swept the area in a frenzy… They locked onto a very familiar pair of eyes. The man was standing across the street, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was carefully, tenderly protecting a slender woman as she climbed into the backseat of a luxury car. As if sensing my gaze, he looked up, his eyes sweeping across the street. The moment our eyes met, he paused for a fraction of a second. Liam saw me. That realization made my heart pound against my ribs like a jackhammer. He saw me! He definitely saw that I was being held against my will and dragged away! He absolutely recognized the terror and resistance on my face! In that split second, my heart raced with a desperate kind of hope, and I instinctively reached a hand out toward him, begging for help. In the past, if Liam even saw a stranger accidentally bump my shoulder from across the street, his face would turn black with rage. He would charge over, shove the person away, and pull me into his arms with aggressive, overwhelming possessiveness. He always told me he would protect me. I mouthed his name silently, looking toward him with eyes blurred by terrified tears. But the very next second, Liam calmly looked away. He acted as if he hadn’t seen a single thing. He simply looked down and casually lit his cigarette. My breathing stopped instantly. It felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of freezing ice water over my head, chilling me so deeply I violently shuddered. As the two men dragged my stunned, frozen body into the dark alley, an explosive burst of pure adrenaline surged through my veins. Taking advantage of a momentary lapse in one of their grips, I ripped my hand free, spun around, and delivered a brutal, full-force punch directly into his nose! As the man released me with a howl of agony, dropping into a crouch to clutch his bleeding face, I swung my heavy tote bag with all my might and smashed it directly into the other man’s groin. Then, I turned and sprinted toward the entrance of the alley, not looking back once, running faster than I ever had in my life. But I didn’t expect that the moment I burst out of the alleyway, I would crash headfirst into a familiar chest. The familiar scent of woody tea mixed with a hint of sweet citrus cologne filled my nose. I froze, looking up to meet Liam’s eyes. The next second, I shoved him away with lethal force, gripped the straps of my bag, and swung it directly at his face with every last ounce of strength I had left. “I was so busy hitting those two pieces of trash, I forgot to hit you.” Liam staggered backward from the impact, his entire face instantly blooming an angry red. “You hit me?!” He reached up to touch his stinging cheek, his expression a mix of shock and pure disbelief. He raised an eyebrow. But I didn’t even give him a second glance. I turned, bolted for the street, and threw myself into a taxi idling by the curb. I left the nightmare of tonight, and all the filthy trash standing behind me, entirely in the dust. Screw Liam, and screw love! It was all fake bullshit! I aggressively wiped the tears from my eyes, gritting my teeth and telling myself I could not cry anymore. If I shed a single tear for Liam after tonight… I would truly despise myself!

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Chapter 1 In the spring of my fifth year post-divorce. I ran into Julian Vance again at a tattoo parlor. He was there to touch up his lover’s name on his chest. I was there to cover up the old scars on my wrist. After years apart, we looked at each other in utter silence. Just as the heavy quiet was about to break and Julian opened his mouth to speak, a pair of small hands grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Daddy,” the little boy said, looking up at me with wide, curious eyes. “Who is she?” 1 The ocean breeze drifted through the coastal island air, ringing the wind chimes on the porch and shattering the long silence. “I’m a customer,” I said. “Just like your daddy, I’m here to get a tattoo.” The little boy tilted his head. “Do you know my daddy?” “Leo.” Julian’s tone carried a heavy warning. The boy pouted and immediately went quiet. “No, we don’t know each other,” I answered the boy anyway. “Just strangers.” Julian’s face instantly darkened. The parlor owner tapped his knuckles against the counter, his gaze bouncing between the two of us. “Who’s going first?” Julian, who had been leaning casually against the bar, stood up straight, his eyes locked dead on me. “She is.” He was wearing a white linen shirt paired with silver-grey slacks. The top buttons were casually undone, exposing a large portion of his sculpted chest. Over his left pectoral, there was a script tattoo. It was half-hidden beneath the fabric, making it hard to read, but I knew exactly whose name it was. Even though that name wasn’t etched over his heart when we divorced. “First come, first served,” I said, maintaining polite, distant courtesy. “You go ahead, sir.” Before Julian could reply, his phone buzzed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the caller ID: Wife. The screen went black as Julian hit the power button, his eyes immediately shooting toward me. I simply turned and walked over to the waiting area. From behind, I heard the little boy ask excitedly, “Was that Mommy calling?” 2 Julian’s voice naturally ran cold, but when he coaxed someone, he tended to lower it into a soft, gravelly murmur. Gentle and low, it blended perfectly with the cello music playing softly in the parlor. I kept my eyes down, gently stirring my coffee. Suddenly, a childish voice piped up beside my ear. “Miss?” I turned my head. The little boy from earlier was leaning over the armrest of the sofa, staring at me. He was a beautiful child, with delicate features that gave him a refined, almost literary charm. He was undeniably adorable. So adorable that, even knowing exactly whose child he was, I couldn’t bring myself to feel any resentment toward him. “I have to tell you a secret. You look a lot like my mommy,” the boy whispered, as if sharing confidential intel. “She’s a super pretty, famous movie star, you know.” “Then you must look a lot like her.” The boy’s eyes lit up instantly. He looked like he wanted to climb over and get closer to me, but a pair of large hands firmly clamped down on his head. Julian patted the boy’s hair. “Go back to the car with Uncle Chris for a bit.” I raised an eyebrow. Turning my head, I saw a middle-aged man standing behind Julian—the executive assistant who had followed him for years. When our eyes met, his widened in sheer shock, though he quickly tried to mask the awkwardness. “…Ms. Hayes.” I nodded calmly, my tone carrying a hint of nostalgia for an old acquaintance. “Mr. Evans.” Julian scooped the boy up into his arms. As he stood, a flash of silver caught my eye from his wrist. It was a Patek Philippe. A style he would absolutely never have chosen in the past. And on his long, elegant ring finger sat a simple, understated, yet luxurious wedding band. In the two years Julian and I were married, he never once wore a wedding ring. True love really is true love, I thought, taking a sip of my coffee. Married all these years, and she still hasn’t become just a smudge of mosquito blood on the wall. 3 Assistant Evans led the boy away, but Julian remained standing in front of my booth. “Evelyn,” the man finally spoke. “How have you been these past few years?” My coffee was half-empty. I set the cup down. “I’ve been quite well. Thanks for asking.” A long silence followed. Eventually, the shadow looming over me shifted away as Julian followed the owner upstairs. The cello music faded out, replaced by a slow, tranquil piano melody—perfectly mirroring my current state of mind. The owner of the studio was an internationally renowned tattoo artist. His custom designs were priceless, and he only accepted two clients a day. It was just pure coincidence that we booked the same day. My gaze drifted across the flash art on the wall and suddenly stopped, landing on the centerpiece. It was an illustration of a red lipstick mark tattooed on the inner thigh of a man. The man in the drawing sat on the floor, one leg bent. Beneath a silk robe, he wore black briefs. In that highly suggestive, intimate zone, rested a light pink lip print. The lips were beautifully shaped, the lines clean, creating a simmering, erotic tension against the bronze skin. It was a mark left by a woman between a man’s legs. “Ms. Hayes,” the owner’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Right this way, please.” I turned and saw Julian descending the spiral staircase, his shirt buttoned all the way to his collar. “Done already?” I asked. “He’s being neurotic. Said he doesn’t want the touch-up anymore,” the owner said, clearly familiar with Julian. “You can head upstairs.” Julian stopped at the base of the stairs, standing completely still, one hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks, his face expressionless. Looking down from above, his eyes were incredibly heavy. We stared at each other in total silence. All I could think of was the very last time we slept together. After a kiss led us to bed, I saw the red lip tattoo on his inner thigh. 4 The wall clock chimed. I grabbed my purse and walked toward the stairs. As I brushed past Julian, he grabbed my wrist. His grip was brutal, the metal of his watch digging into my bone, sending a sharp spike of pain up my arm. “Evelyn,” Julian’s voice was hoarse. “Do you really have to pretend we’re strangers?” I didn’t struggle. I looked into his eyes with absolute dead-calm detachment. “Treating you like a stranger is the absolute maximum amount of dignity I am willing to afford you.” He froze. Slowly, his grip loosened, and he rubbed his thumb across his fingertips, his emotional spike receding. “I know you still hate me.” Julian always had this terrifying ability. No matter the situation, he could seize control of the narrative without ever breaking a sweat or looking awkward. Just like when the paparazzi photos of him making out with Chloe Stewart broke the internet. He faced me with this exact same expression. The only difference was that back then, I was hysterical. Next to my husband’s icy composure, I looked like a deranged lunatic who had lost her mind. “You flatter yourself,” I said, stepping up onto the next stair, my tone completely aloof. “With the relationship we have now, ‘hate’ is far too strong a word.” Julian seemed like he wanted to say something else, but I didn’t care. I turned and walked up the stairs. The studio’s interior was highly stylized—post-modern, cavernous, and quiet. While the owner sat at his computer finalizing my stencil, his assistant prepped my skin. I unclasped the watch from my right wrist. It was a unique leather wrap-around strap. As I unwound the three loops, the scarred, jagged, pinkish flesh on my wrist was exposed to the air. “Tattoos on the wrist hurt like hell,” the owner noted casually, clearly having seen it all before. “You better prepare yourself.” I smiled. “Probably won’t hurt as much as it did when I slit my wrist.” 5 Two scars. One deeper than the other. Once the numbing cream set in, right before transferring the stencil, the owner confirmed the design with me one last time. A blue butterfly, wings spread in mid-flight. Clean and sharp. “This is a tricky spot. It’ll definitely require a touch-up later,” the owner said, pulling his mask up. “But I can guarantee it’ll cover the scars perfectly.” “Do all tattoos need touch-ups?” “No. Julian comes in because of his specific skin type,” the owner said, making no effort to hide his acquaintance with him. “Honestly, doing tattoos on him is bad for my brand.” I didn’t say a word. After a two-year marriage that actually meant something, I obviously knew he had a unique skin condition. Back then, Julian absolutely hated it when I left any marks on him during sex. Yet now, even knowing it meant the hassle of constant, painful touch-ups, he still tattooed Chloe’s name over his heart. And tattooed her lip print on his inner thigh. As the needle pierced my wrist for the first time, I couldn’t help but wince at the sharp sting. The owner suddenly spoke. “Tell me the story behind your scars.” I paused for a moment, then chuckled. “Since when do tattoo artists double as therapists?” In the public eye, Julian was the ultimate winner in life. Professionally, he had ridden the wave of the tech boom, expanding his empire and climbing higher every year. Romantically, he was madly in love with an A-list actress, living a picture-perfect family life. “When I first met Julian, he was already married to Chloe,” the owner said. “And Chloe looks exactly like you.” I gave a small smile and pulled a pack of cigarettes from my purse. “Do you mind?” He shook his head. I blew out a ring of smoke, thought for a moment, and said slowly, “I’m Julian’s ex-wife.” 6 Julian and I met in college. He was a senior in my department. When he decided to launch his startup, he recruited me. Today, Zenith Tech is an absolute titan in the industry, but when it started, it was just the two of us. Julian had impossibly high standards. He was a legend on campus, and hundreds of people submitted their resumes when he announced he was hiring. “But I was the only one who stayed.” Smoke curled into the air as I narrowed my eyes at the memory. “The Julian back then was insanely arrogant. Looked down his nose at everyone. I was the very last person to interview.” Neither of us had high hopes. I thought he was a pretentious snob playing CEO; he had spent the whole day interviewing people and concluded that everyone was a moron, including me. “But we ended up talking the entire night. When the sun came up, he reached out his hand and said, ‘Let’s get to work.’” “We shared the same vision and the same goals. Julian was fiercely ambitious.” I flicked the ash off my cigarette. “And as it turned out, so was I.” During the first two years of Zenith Tech, Julian and I rented a cheap apartment off-campus. We hustled for clients together. We pitched to investors together. Julian was my mentor. He taught me everything he knew—networking, industry secrets, technical knowledge—holding absolutely nothing back. On my twenty-second birthday, Julian and I stayed up all night writing code. When the first light of dawn broke, he leaned against the window and lit a cigarette. “He asked me,” I took a drag of my own cigarette, “if I knew how to smoke.” Curious, I leaned in to try, only to end up coughing until tears streamed down my face. Julian started laughing. He pulled me into his arms, pressed me against his chest, tilted his head down, and kissed me. When the kiss ended, he asked me if I wanted to marry him. The buzzing of the tattoo machine paused for a second. The owner said, “Usually, the question is ‘Do you want to be my girlfriend?’” I laughed too. It felt like I was telling a story about someone else, watching a fire burn from safely across the river. “I said yes. And that very same day, we secured our first round of seed funding.” “Riding the AI boom, Zenith Tech skyrocketed. In just one year, we became the rising star of the industry.” “The day Zenith established its core executive team, I took over as CEO, and Julian took me home to meet his family.” “That was the day I found out that ‘Julian’ was Julian Vance of the Vance shipping empire. One of the oldest, wealthiest money families in the state.” 7 The Vance family built their fortune on shipping. With three generations of old money, they were absolute royalty. Naturally, our marriage faced massive opposition. But Julian had the guts to break away from his family to start his own business; he certainly wasn’t going to let them dictate his marriage. “Julian fought them for two years. He was so stubborn that his grandfather actually beat him until he ended up in the hospital. Countless family elders pressured him, but he never compromised.” The ash from my cigarette fell silently to the floor. I watched it for a moment before speaking softly. “When Zenith secured its Series A funding, we finally got married.” “We kept the wedding simple. Just a small ceremony on an island. He later bought the island, put it in my name, and called it Serenity.” The owner completely stopped tracing the lines. I nodded. “Yes. The exact island we’re on right now.” “Julian signed a prenup. Aside from my founder’s shares in Zenith, he liquidated every cent of cash he could touch and set up an ironclad trust fund for me.” “He said he wanted Zenith Tech to be my ultimate safety net.” “Back then, everyone sighed and said Julian loved me so much it was terrifying. The financial entanglement was so deep it left absolutely zero room for divorce.” “I used to believe that too.” The cigarette had burned down halfway. I crushed it into the ashtray. “Until the first year of our marriage, when he personally handpicked Chloe Stewart to be the global brand ambassador for Zenith.” I had asked Julian why he chose a completely unknown, D-list actress. “Don’t you think,” Julian had said, pointing at a massive billboard of Chloe, “she looks exactly like you did in college?” “She’s got about 80% of your aura,” he chuckled before I could even respond. “But she’s completely empty-headed. An absolute airhead.” “Chloe blew up overnight.” The owner’s voice pulled me out of the past. “If I remember correctly, she became a household name at nineteen.” “Yeah,” I recalled. “Less than a year after becoming the ambassador, she was famous across the entire country.” “The day she won Best New Actress was Julian’s twenty-fifth birthday. We had dinner reservations.” “I waited for two hours, but he never showed. His phone went straight to voicemail, and even Assistant Evans couldn’t reach him.” “Until 8:00 PM, when a headline exploded onto the internet: Chloe Stewart Caught in Passionate Kiss with Mystery Man.” “I clicked on it.” I looked up at the owner and smiled. “The mystery man was my husband.” 8 They kissed with such desperate passion, he had her pinned against the hood of a car. The car was literally shaking. Julian, who was always so cold and composed, noticed the paparazzi camera. His immediate first reaction was to shove the fragile Chloe protectively into his chest to hide her face. The video froze on the frame of Julian glaring lethally into the lens. I tortured myself by watching it over, and over, and over again. My tears fell onto the screen, landing right on the side profile of Chloe’s face as it was buried in Julian’s chest. It looked almost exactly like I had in college. I dug into the story and found out the whole truth. Chloe had been backed into a corner by sleazy executives at a dinner party, and Julian had stepped in to save her. From that night on, Chloe’s career was a golden paved road. The absolute best resources in the industry were handed to her on a silver platter. When I slammed the dossier of evidence onto the table in front of him, Julian didn’t try to explain, nor did he panic. He just lit a cigarette and asked me: “What do you want to do?” “Company shares? A new project lead?” Julian said. “We can negotiate whatever you want. Just keep Chloe out of this. It hasn’t been easy for her to get where she is.” Julian’s freezing, robotic detachment turned me into a lunatic. I grew up without a father. To me, Julian wasn’t just a partner; he filled the void of an older, protective figure in my life. First, he was my mentor. Only later did he become my husband. During Zenith’s volatile growth phase, when I was drowning in stress and lacked experience, Julian was the one standing behind me, guiding my hand through every single crisis. To make sure I felt secure marrying him, he used brutal, tangible financial leverage to build an indestructible fortress around me. I never, ever imagined that fortress would collapse. And definitely not in such a disgusting, humiliating way. “So you used every connection you had to blackball Chloe from the industry,” the owner said. “But you failed.” “And failed spectacularly,” I said, laughing at my own expense. “At the time, deep down, I still held onto a tiny shred of delusional hope.” “I thought Julian was just playing around, or that he had a moment of weakness and made a mistake.” “Don’t look at me like that,” I told the owner. “I was way too young back then.” But Julian’s counterattack slapped me right across the face. He used ruthless, overwhelming force to bury the trending topics and save Chloe’s career. A week later, the supposedly “blackballed” Chloe was triumphantly announced as the female lead in a blockbuster movie by a legendary director. 9 The first raised pink scar became the bottom wingline of the butterfly. It was a piercing blue. The stinging in my wrist had turned to a dull throb. I stared at it for a moment. “That’s how the first scar got there.” “Chloe came to me. Using a face that looked exactly like I did in college, she begged me to let her and Julian be together.” “You see? Being loved makes people stupid.” I sighed. “She actually had the nerve to look me in the eye and say, ‘The one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.’” So I launched a second wave of retaliation against Chloe. I bought off massive armies of social media influencers to expose her true colors as a homewrecker who knew exactly what she was doing. The room grew quiet, save for the buzzing of the tattoo gun. It had been five years. No matter how intense the love or the hate had been, the river of time had eroded most of it away. Except for this one thing. “Julian used Zenith Tech to threaten me.” My voice went hard. “He used the empire we bled to build together to hold me hostage.” Julian had founded Zenith because of his innate arrogance. He refused to rely on his family’s money or influence for everything. Building Zenith from nothing… only he and I truly knew how agonizing it was. I controlled the core product and the engineering teams. But for Chloe, Julian was willing to let Zenith Tech burn to the ground. “You only have Zenith. I still have the Vance empire.” When things got their ugliest, Julian remained terrifyingly cold. “Evelyn, the only reason you are where you are today is because I gave it to you. Including Zenith.” “I was really just too young,” I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. “The day the paparazzi photos of Julian and Chloe at the hotel broke… it was exactly our one-year wedding anniversary.” “I saw the red lip tattoo on his inner thigh. And that’s how I got the first scar on my wrist.” When I woke up in the hospital, Julian was sitting by my bed. With red, bloodshot eyes, he pulled me into his arms. And for the first time, I chose to compromise. Because I was pregnant. Three months. 10 “If that baby had been born, he’d probably be about the same age as that little boy today.” I felt a wave of melancholy wash over me and offered a self-deprecating smile. I fought back the urge to reach for another cigarette, pausing for a long moment before I finally found the courage to continue. “Because of the pregnancy, I gave up on the divorce. That child wouldn’t just inherit Zenith, he would eventually inherit the Vance empire.” “My marriage was already a complete disaster, and Julian had destroyed every single fantasy I ever had about love. But realistically… it was an incredibly lucrative business deal.” Julian flawlessly achieved a balancing act between two women. I became the “magnanimous” wife, swallowing my pride and vomiting blood in secret, cleaning up the constant PR messes of my husband’s affairs with the A-list star over and over again. Chloe’s career skyrocketed. There was even a legion of psychotic fans entirely devoted to “shipping” her and Julian. Until my seventh month. On my way home from Zenith Tech, my car was rammed off the road by one of Chloe’s deranged super-fans. “…I went into premature labor. When I woke up,” I went dead silent for a long, long time before I could finally force the words out. “I was the only one who survived.” Julian’s solution? He buried the story. Once again, he protected Chloe’s glittering, untouchable stardom. Even though that car crash put me in a hospital bed for six months. Even though I lost our child. “The divorce proceedings dragged on for six months. Fueled by pure, vicious hatred over losing my baby, I ripped away more than half of Julian’s net worth in Zenith.” The buzzing of the tattoo machine finally stopped. The owner gently wiped away the excess ink with a cloth. A stunning blue butterfly looked ready to take flight off my skin. “And that is the story behind the second scar.” I reached out and gently traced the tattoo. “Six months after the divorce, Julian remarried. Chloe got exactly what she wanted and married into the billionaire dynasty.” “They got their fairytale, happily-ever-after ending.” “I moved down south. The psychological backlash was brutal. There were countless nights I woke up screaming, hearing a baby crying.” “When it got really bad, I drank in the bathtub and took a razor blade to my wrist again. That was the stupidest thing I ever did.” “But everything passes.” I looked up at the owner and smiled. “We’re already in the spring of our fifth year apart.” By the time I left the studio, it was mid-afternoon. The island sky was a blinding, vibrant blue, and the sea breeze carried a salty, humid dampness. As I strapped my watch over the bandage and stepped out of the building, I looked up—almost as if I sensed it coming—and saw the black Rolls-Royce Cullinan parked a short distance away. The rear window rolled down. Julian looked at me. 11 “Where is your hotel?” Julian’s tone was entirely casual. “I’ll give you a ride.” The little boy was leaning over his shoulder, looking at me with big, innocent, watery eyes. Maybe it was just my imagination, or maybe Chloe really did look too much like me, but I felt an inexplicable fondness for the child. Because of that fleeting connection, I paused for a second before answering. “Mr. Vance, there’s no need.” “Given the circumstances, it’s best we keep our distance.” My voice was polite and calm. “Goodbye.” Serenity wasn’t a massive island, but the scenery was breathtaking. The sky and the ocean bled into a brilliant blue spring canvas. It looked exactly the same as it did on the day we got married. I sped down the coastal road. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I noticed a white sedan tailgating me aggressively. My heart hammered against my ribs. I slammed on the gas, trying to put distance between us. During a sharp turn, I caught a glimpse of the driver. It was Julian. The man’s face was completely devoid of emotion as he violently cranked the steering wheel. With the deafening screech of burning rubber, the sedan drifted wildly, cutting directly across my path and forcing me to slam on the brakes to avoid T-boning him. The violent jolt of the brakes slammed my back hard against the seat. I took a deep breath, spent a few seconds steadying my racing heart, grabbed my purse, and stepped out of the car. Julian had just slammed his car door shut. His attitude was terrifyingly relaxed. “Evy. You hate me. We can never be strangers.” I stared at him. Even after five years, the absolute shamelessness and psycho energy radiating from this man hadn’t changed a bit. “You’re mistaken, Mr. Vance. I don’t hate you.” I remained perfectly composed. “Given the relationship we have now, ‘hate’ is far too heavy a word. I genuinely don’t care enough to hate you.” Julian offered a faint smile and looked down. “I know you started a new tech firm down in the south a few years ago. If—” He held a business card out to me. “If you ever need any help, you can always reach out. I never changed my number.” “I was too young back then. I was ruthless and burned every bridge.” Julian’s eyes dropped to the fresh bandage on my wrist. His voice went hoarse. “I regret…” His sentence was violently cut short as I swung my heavy leather handbag and smashed it directly across his face. Caught completely off guard, Julian’s head snapped to the side. The metal clasp slashed a bloody cut across his cheekbone. “Don’t say you regret it,” I said, letting out a soft laugh and shaking out my stinging hand. “It makes you look incredibly pathetic.”

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Chapter 1 The day my mother was wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit, my husband, Julian, didn’t lend me a single dime. He told me: “My money is for venture capital, not for throwing into a bottomless pit.” “I sent you the links to a few low-interest personal loan platforms. Figure it out yourself.” Clutching the medical bills, I crouched in the hospital stairwell, only to hear him standing by the window, talking on his phone. “That five million dollar seed money has already been wired to your account.” “Even if the startup fails, it’s on me. Just consider it a practice run.” He was talking to Chloe, a fresh-out-of-college management trainee at his firm. I gripped the bills so tightly my nails dug into my palms. Julian turned around and saw me standing there calmly. I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t throwing a fit, and I didn’t beg him again. He nodded in satisfaction. “That’s more like it. Stop acting like a child and running to others for help the second you hit a roadblock.” “Learning to be independent is taking responsibility for your own life.” I gave a calm “hmm.” Without another glance, he turned and walked away. In that moment, I suddenly understood. When someone’s heart truly dies, they don’t cry, and they don’t scream. They don’t even have the energy to ask “why.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the divorce papers I had prepared days ago. Stroke by stroke, I signed my name. From this day forward, he was him, and I was me. … It was nearly 1:00 AM by the time Julian got home. I was sitting in the living room. On the coffee table in front of me sat the hospital bills and the critical condition notice. And those signed divorce papers. He walked in, saw me, and just frowned. “Why are you still up so late?” I looked up at him. “My mom is still in the ICU.” He hung his coat up and walked to the kitchen island to pour a glass of water. “I know.” His tone was as casual as if he were commenting on the weather. I stared at the glass in his hand, suddenly remembering how I looked in the hospital stairwell that afternoon. How I looked when I begged him for money. I had said: “Julian, thirty thousand. Just to save her life right now.” He had replied: “Harper, you have to learn to accept reality.” And then he turned around and wired five million dollars to Chloe. I thought I was already numb, but seeing him come home acting like absolutely nothing had happened… It still felt like something had violently smashed into my chest. Julian finished his water and his gaze fell on the table. “What’s this?” “Divorce papers.” He froze. A few seconds later, he looked as if he had just heard an absurd joke. “Harper, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” I pushed the papers forward a little. “I already signed them.” He didn’t pick them up. He just looked down at the words, his eyes growing colder by the second. “Because I didn’t lend you the money?” “No.” My voice was very soft. “It’s because today, I finally realized something. It’s not that you don’t have the money, and it’s not that you don’t know how to help people.” “You just won’t help me.” Julian’s face darkened. “Chloe’s project is a corporate investment. It’s not personal.” “I saw the contract.” I looked at him. “The funds were wired from your personal account. You provided a personal guarantee, and you’re covering all the losses. “You call that a corporate investment?” A flash of impatience crossed his eyes. “You went through my things?” I gave a small smile. Of course. His first reaction wasn’t to explain, but to blame me for seeing it. Julian slammed his glass down on the table. “Harper, you’re emotionally unstable right now. I’m not having this conversation with you.” “I understand what you’re going through with your mom, but you can’t just take your stress out on me.” I stared at him. “She’s the woman you called ‘Mom’ for six years.” Julian looked away. “I never said I wouldn’t do anything.” “I just think we shouldn’t throw money into a black hole with no guaranteed return.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize how callous they sounded and quickly added: “I can help you find specialists. I can pull some strings for resources.” “But the money… you need to figure that out yourself.” My stomach suddenly churned violently. I stood up, picked up the divorce papers, and shoved them into a manila envelope. “Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock. My lawyer’s office.” Julian stared at me for a long time. “Harper, if you leave me, how are you going to pay for your mom’s treatment?” The moment those words dropped, my fingers clenched into tight fists. He knew exactly what I was most terrified of. He knew exactly what I needed most right now. So he used it to force me to bow my head. I looked up at him. “I’ll figure it out myself.” Julian seemed stung by my attitude, his expression turning icy. “Then you better not come crawling back to beg me.” I didn’t say another word. I turned and walked into the bedroom. Before I shut the door, I heard him answer his phone in the living room. His voice dropped, becoming much softer. “Chloe, I looked over the materials.” “Don’t worry. I’ll be there with you for the pitch tomorrow.” I closed the door, leaned against it, and slowly slid down to the floor. A dull ache throbbed in my lower abdomen. Between running around for my mom, I hadn’t gone back for my follow-up appointment. A notification from the clinic was still sitting unread on my phone. [Ms. Miller, you are currently seven weeks pregnant. Please remember to schedule your routine prenatal checkup.] I stared at that line of text for a very long time. Then, I turned the screen off. The next day, Julian didn’t show up at the lawyer’s office. I waited for him for two hours. I called him, but he didn’t answer. It wasn’t until 11:30 AM that he finally sent a text. [Chloe’s pitch is today. I can’t leave.] Another message popped up immediately after. [If you really want a divorce, just have your lawyer file the paperwork.] I stood outside the office building, still clutching the appointment slip. The wind blew up from the street, making my eyes sting. I didn’t reply. I went straight to the hospital. The doctor told me my mom’s condition wasn’t looking good. Because the deposit hadn’t been paid on time yesterday, they had to scale back some of her medications to a basic treatment plan. “The family needs to settle the bill as soon as possible. The longer we delay, the higher the risk.” I kept my head down and said I understood. I listed the small condo I owned before we got married for an emergency quick sale and maxed out all my credit cards. Hearing my asking price, the realtor fell silent for a few seconds. “Ms. Miller, this price is incredibly low.” “Can we close today?” “We can, but… are you absolutely sure?” I said: “I’m sure.” After hanging up, I crouched in the hospital stairwell, my palms slick with cold sweat. My phone buzzed with an Instagram notification. Chloe had posted a new update. In the photo, she was standing on a presentation stage, wearing a sharp white suit. Julian was sitting in the front row, looking up at her with a patience I hadn’t seen from him in years. The caption read: [Having someone to catch you when you fall on your very first startup… so this is what it feels like to be fiercely chosen.] Someone commented below: [Mr. Sterling spoils you so much!] Chloe replied: [He just said he didn’t want to see me lose too badly.] I stared at those words, the chill seeping into my fingertips. That afternoon, Julian came to the hospital. He stood in the hallway, his suit impeccable, holding a printed document. “I had my assistant compile a list of personal loan providers.” “A few of them offer decent limits. You can use them to bridge the gap for now.” I stared at the document, refusing to take it. He shoved it into my hands. “The money issue is yours to figure out.” With that, he turned and walked away. I looked down at the loan information in my hands. I tore it up, page by page, and threw it in the trash can. A few minutes later, a nurse came running toward me. “Ms. Miller, the patient’s blood pressure is dropping! The doctor needs you to sign consent forms right now!” My legs gave out. I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from collapsing. My lower abdomen started aching again. This time, it was much sharper than last night. They worked on my mom for four hours. When the doctor finally came out, he hadn’t even taken off his surgical mask. “She’s stable for now.” “But you cannot interrupt her treatment or delay the payments again.” I nodded, my throat too dry to speak. The contract for my condo was signed that very night. Priced for an emergency sale, the buyer barely hesitated. The second the earnest money hit my account, I went straight to the billing window. The clerk at the window gave me a sympathetic look. “Just you here by yourself?” I gave a quiet “mhm.” “Where’s your husband?” I didn’t answer. In that moment, I suddenly felt deeply humiliated. I was married, but I was standing there like someone who had absolutely no family in the world. That night, I went back to the house to pack my documents. The moment I pushed the door open, I heard a woman’s laughter coming from the living room. Chloe was sitting on the sofa. A celebratory cake sat on the coffee table in front of her. Julian was cutting a slice for her. Seeing me, Chloe immediately stood up. “Harper! You’re back.” She sounded perfectly sweet. But she was wearing a diamond necklace around her neck. I recognized that necklace. Last month, on my birthday, I had lingered by the display counter at the mall to look at it. Julian had said: “The markup on things like this is ridiculous. It’s not practical for you.” Now, it was resting against Chloe’s collarbone. Julian frowned at me. “Why are you back?” I looked at him. “This is my house.” Chloe’s face stiffened. Julian set the cake knife down. “Chloe’s pitch was a huge success today. I brought her back to grab some files.” “And we decided to celebrate while we were at it.” While we were at it. My mom was in the hospital hooked up to tubes, and I was selling my house to scrape together money to save her. And he was in our home, throwing a celebration for another woman. Chloe looked down, her voice soft and timid. “Harper, please don’t misunderstand.” “Mr. Sterling was just worried I’d be nervous for my first funding round, so he was encouraging me.” She touched the necklace at her throat. “And this is just a team bonus. It’s not what you think.” I walked over and glanced at the cake box on the table. Written on it was: [To Chloe’s first victory. The future is yours.] The handwriting was Julian’s. He used to complain that even buying me a birthday cake was a waste of money, saying that kind of “ritual” was unnecessary. I didn’t cry. I didn’t yell. I just walked into the bedroom, opened my drawers, and started packing my passport, ID, and important documents. Julian followed me in. “Who are you throwing an attitude for now?” I shoved my marriage certificate into my bag. “Move.” He blocked the doorway. “Harper, you are becoming completely unreasonable.” “Chloe is so much younger than you, she’s out here hustling in the city all by herself.” “What’s wrong with me looking out for her as her boss?” I looked up at him. “My mom is lying in the ICU all by herself right now.” “Have you looked out for her?” He choked on his words. But his expression quickly turned cold again. “Your mom’s situation is different.” “How is it different?” “Chloe actually has a future.” The moment those words left his mouth, the room fell dead silent. Julian himself realized what he had just said. But he didn’t apologize. He just looked away and muttered, “I just meant that investments require a return.” I stared at him. My chest felt like it had been violently ripped open. My mom had no future. So she wasn’t worth it. I had no future. So I wasn’t worthy. I grabbed my bag and walked right past him. In the living room, Chloe was eating a piece of cake with a small fork. Seeing me, she seemed to gather her courage and said softly: “Harper… honestly, women need to be more independent.” “You can’t just rely on men to solve all your problems.” I stopped in my tracks. Julian was standing right behind me. He didn’t say a word to stop her. I looked at Chloe and suddenly smiled. “Did he teach you that line?” Her face flushed bright red. I nodded. “Well, remember it carefully.” “The day he decides you don’t offer a ‘return on investment’ anymore, you’ll be hearing that exact same line.” Chloe’s smile froze. Julian snapped coldly: “Harper, that’s enough.” I didn’t look back. As I walked down the stairs, a sharp, heavy cramp seized my lower abdomen. I leaned heavily against the wall of the elevator, taking a long time to catch my breath. My palms were completely slick with sweat. My phone rang. It was the hospital. “Ms. Miller, your mother’s condition has severely deteriorated again. Please come back immediately.” My vision went black, and I nearly collapsed to my knees right there in the elevator. My mom went into critical condition for the second time at 9:17 PM. When the nurse ran out to find me, I was standing at the billing window, begging the staff to give me another thirty minutes. “Harper! The patient’s blood pressure is crashing, the doctor needs the family to sign off immediately!” The credit card I had handed over was spat back out of the machine. Insufficient funds. In that instant, my legs completely gave out. I gripped the counter to stay standing, pulled out my phone, and called Julian. First try, he didn’t answer. Second try, still no answer. When he finally picked up on the third try, the background noise was loud. I sobbed into the phone: “Julian, my mom is back in the resuscitation room.” “The doctors need me to pay the balance immediately, or they can’t administer the next round of meds.” “Please, just lend me thirty thousand. Just thirty thousand, I swear I’ll pay you back.” The line went dead silent for two seconds. Then, his voice came through, terrifyingly calm. “Harper, I thought I made myself very clear.” “You cannot blindly throw money into a situation like this without a plan.” I froze. “She is my mother.” “She is dying right now.” “I know.” His tone even carried a hint of annoyance. “But you are an adult.” “Adults don’t just expect someone else to be their safety net the second things go wrong.” “Your mother’s illness is a risk within your own family. It is not my obligation to invest in it.” I gripped my phone, my entire body violently shaking. “Julian, you called her ‘Mom’ for six years.” “That doesn’t mean I have to foot the bill for every uncontrollable outcome.” He paused, sounding as if he was trying to suppress his temper to teach me a lesson. “Harper, your biggest problem is your absolute refusal to grow up.” “Whenever something happens, all you do is cry, beg me, and transfer your stress onto other people.” “I sent you those loan platforms. I told you that you could sell your condo, take out loans, or apply for medical relief funds.” My throat felt completely blocked. The red light above the resuscitation room doors was still on. The doctors inside were fighting to keep my mother alive. And my husband was on the phone, lecturing me about being independent. I closed my eyes. A tear fell onto the unpaid billing statement, blurring the ink. “What if it was Chloe lying in that room today?” The other end of the line was quiet for a moment. He didn’t answer. But I heard another woman’s voice. Soft, delicate. “Julian… my stomach still hurts a little…” Julian’s voice instantly dropped into a low, comforting murmur: “Don’t worry, I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. I gripped the phone, my voice so quiet it was barely a whisper. “Julian, you’re taking her to the hospital right now?” He paused. Then his voice turned cold. “Chloe wasn’t feeling well after the pitch today, so I’m taking her to get checked out.” “She’s a young girl with no family in this city. As her boss, it’s perfectly reasonable for me to look out for her.” I let out a dry laugh. “My mom doesn’t have anyone else either.” “I don’t have anyone else either.” He was silent for a few seconds. “Harper, stop trying to guilt-trip me with lines like that.” “It’s just acute gastroenteritis. I’ll come over after she’s done getting checked.” “Handle it yourself for now.” Handle it yourself. When those words dropped, I suddenly couldn’t hear anything anymore. A nurse burst out of the resuscitation room doors again. “Ms. Miller! Are you going to be able to pay the balance or not?! The doctor is waiting!” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Over the phone, Julian was still talking: “Calm down.” “Stop acting like the sky is falling every single time something happens.” “Adults need to have the ability to solve their own problems instead of just begging others.” I hung up the phone. I clutched it in my palm and slowly sank to the floor. At that exact moment, a violent, heavy pressure struck my lower abdomen. It felt like someone had taken a knife and brutally slashed me from the inside. I looked down and saw a patch of red seeping through my pants. I braced myself against the wall, trying to stand up to call a doctor. But the doors to the resuscitation room opened first. The doctor pulled his mask down, his face grave. “Ms. Miller.” “We did everything we could.” “The patient’s heart was stopped for too long. Resuscitation was unsuccessful.” “I’m so sorry for your loss.” I’m so sorry for your loss. I stood frozen in place. The billing statement slipped from my fingers and fluttered to the floor. When they wheeled my mom out, her face was covered with a white sheet. I lunged forward, wanting to call out to her. But my throat felt like it was stuffed with crushed glass. I couldn’t force a single syllable out. A nurse grabbed my arm to steady me. “Ma’am, you look terrible.” I looked down. Blood was running down my legs. The nurse’s face changed instantly. “Are you pregnant?” I tried to nod. But my vision went completely black, and I collapsed onto the hospital floor. When they wheeled me into the emergency room, my phone started ringing again. Julian’s name flashed on the screen. I didn’t have the strength to answer it. The nurse holding my phone hesitated and asked: “Should we notify your family?” I stared at the word “Julian” on the screen. Family. How hilarious. I shook my head. “I don’t have any family.” “I’ll sign the consent forms myself.” The lights in the operating room flicked on. Lying on the freezing surgical table, I heard the doctor murmur: “There’s significant hemorrhaging. We’ve lost the fetal heartbeat.” I closed my eyes. Tonight, I lost my mother. And I lost my baby. Julian didn’t arrive at the hospital until two hours later. Chloe only had acute gastroenteritis. After an IV drip, she was perfectly fine. He said he had “remembered” me after that. So he bought a cup of hot porridge and leisurely made his way to the hospital. When he pushed open the doors to the emergency wing, he happened to overhear the nurses during shift change. “That Ms. Miller from the ICU—her mother didn’t make it. She’s already been sent to the morgue.” “And Ms. Miller herself just got out of an emergency D&C for a miscarriage. She was completely alone. It’s so tragic.” The cup of hot porridge slipped from Julian’s hands and hit the floor with a violent splat.

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Chapter 1 The day my boyfriend complained about me to my best friend for the fifty-fifth time, I read through their entire chat history. “I stayed up all night gaming with her, and today I forgot to go with her to try on wedding dresses. Now she’s crying and throwing a fit. So annoying!” “She dresses like a middle schooler. It’s so ugly.” “She’s a grown adult, is it really that hard for her to call an Uber in the rain? She insisted I come pick her up. So dramatic!” After every single complaint, my best friend replied with a cute, sympathetic meme. “I told you from the beginning that she was like this, but you didn’t believe me. Now you know.” He used to tell me, “Simple and elegant is perfect.” Now, he stared at my dresses and frowned: “Even a middle schooler dresses better than you.” He used to promise he would pick me up from work every day. Now, he just coldly typed a single line into the chat box: “You’re an adult. You can’t even figure this out yourself?” I bit my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood slowly spread across my tongue. Dylan walked out of the bathroom, snatched the phone from my hand, and yelled at me: “Who told you to touch my stuff?!” He immediately typed a quick follow-up message to her: “She’s checking my phone now. Unbelievable.” So our three-year relationship was just a miserable prison sentence that he needed to constantly vent about to an outsider. Fine. Since being with me was such pure torture, he wouldn’t be part of the good days ahead. … I was just about to speak, but Dylan frowned and cut me off first: “Harper, people have a right to privacy, don’t you understand that?” I pointed at his glowing phone screen, my voice raspy. “Your privacy is talking trash about your own girlfriend with another woman?” Every time he was with me, his head was buried in his phone, tapping away. When I asked, he always said it was “work.” I believed him for three years. Three years. It turned out I had believed my way into a mountain of resentment. He actually laughed, giving me an “are you seriously doing this?” look. “Mia is your best friend. What’s the big deal if I joke around with her for a bit?” A joke. He called that a joke. “Besides, work hasn’t been going well for her lately. I played some video games with her so she could vent her frustration. Is that a crime?” He sounded so entirely self-righteous. I didn’t respond. I just stared at him silently. Recently, I had been working so much overtime that my period completely stopped and my hair was falling out in clumps. He hadn’t even offered me a glass of water. My eyes stung fiercely. I clenched my fists and forcefully swallowed my tears. He probably noticed I didn’t look well, and his tone finally softened a fraction: “Alright, fine. I’ll go with you to try on wedding dresses tomorrow.” Tomorrow. Today, I stood in that bridal boutique completely alone. The consultant rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath: “She’s tried on so many dresses and hasn’t bought a single one. Her boyfriend hasn’t shown up once. Is she just here to waste our time?” Enduring the judging stares of everyone in the room, I fled from the store I had loved for two whole years. “The wedding dress… we can talk about it later.” Dylan immediately dropped the subject, plopped down on the sofa, and went back to tapping on his phone. “Mia is coming over soon. We’re having hot pot for dinner.” Mia was coming. Whenever she came over, she never told me. She only ever coordinated with him. Out of seven days a week, she managed to come over for six. She claimed she was coming to keep me company, but when she was here, we barely spoke two words to each other. The smart lock on the front door chimed. Fingerprint recognized. Mia dropped several grocery bags onto the floor and shouted at him: “Dylan, what are you standing around for? Get over here and help me!” He laughed and got up immediately. “Coming!” Mia directed him to wash the vegetables and prep the dipping sauces, acting entirely like the lady of the house. “Harper, you go rest for a bit. We’ll call you when it’s ready.” She slapped him playfully on the back and put her hands on her hips. “Wash those properly! Look, there’s still dirt on this lettuce.” He didn’t get annoyed at all. He just smiled and replied, “Yes, ma’am. I know, I know.” That natural dynamic. That effortless, taken-for-granted intimacy. He and I had never had that. In the summer, if I leaned against him, he said it was too hot. In the winter, if I touched him, he said he hated the cold. When I did the chores, he sat on the couch playing video games, never lifting a finger. The spicy, numbing smell of the hot pot broth flooded my nose, and I sneezed violently a few times. Mia smiled at me, her eyes curving into crescents: “Smells amazing, right? Dylan and I specifically hauled this back from Austin last month.” I froze. “Last month… when did you guys go to Austin?” She turned to look at him. “You didn’t tell Harper?” Dylan didn’t even look up. “It wasn’t a big deal, nothing worth bringing up.” Mia walked over, grabbed my hand, and pressed me down into a dining chair: “I had a business trip last month, and he kept me company. On the way back, we took a detour to Austin for a few days.” Last month. During those few days, I was burning up with pneumonia, sitting in the hospital alone attached to an IV drip. I texted him, and he never replied. It turned out he was out having the time of his life with her. My heart was overflowing with a sour bitterness. I laughed at how stupid and pathetic I was. Mia suddenly shook her wrist. “Look, a bracelet! Pretty, right? Dylan picked it out just for me.” “Where’s yours? When we bought them, they were supposed to be matching best-friend bracelets.” Dylan walked out carrying a plate of sliced beef and casually replied: “I don’t know where I threw it. If you like it, I’ll buy you ten more online later.” “Let’s just eat. I haven’t eaten all day.” Then he looked at me, and his tone actually carried a hint of grievance: “Someone was throwing a tantrum today. Didn’t buy groceries, didn’t make dinner.” Mia laughed brightly and answered for me: “Oh, you know Harper’s just like that. It’s not like you just met her today.” Dylan grabbed a piece of tripe with his chopsticks, not even looking up: “If she were even half as good as you, I wouldn’t be this exhausted.” Mia hissed, the spicy broth burning her tongue. He immediately followed up: “Oh, by the way, that movie you’ve been wanting to see is out. Want to go watch it?” “Sure!” Mia wiped her mouth with a napkin and turned to me. “Harper, want to come?” Before I could even open my mouth, Dylan answered for me: “Don’t bother with her. Last time we went to a movie, she sulked the entire night.” Last time. He was over an hour late. He showed up when the movie was almost over, sat down, and spent the entire time staring at his phone, texting. When I argued with him about it, he threw a fit and walked out. Mia nudged me with her elbow. “Harper, why is your temper getting worse and worse lately?” I put my chopsticks down. Smack. “My temper has always been exactly like this.” Dylan frowned deeply. “Harper, what is your problem now?” “Mia was nice enough to come over and cook, and she bought all these groceries. Do you have no conscience?” I looked him straight in the eyes. “Dylan, I never eat spicy food.” Mia slapped her forehead. “Oh! I forgot! Harper, I’m so sorry.” Dylan immediately went back to complaining. “Is it really that serious? Why didn’t you just say something earlier?” “I have told you. Many times.” Three years. He couldn’t remember that I didn’t eat spicy food. He couldn’t remember what I was allergic to. He couldn’t remember my birthday. But he remembered every single thing Mia liked. She liked spicy food, so our apartment always smelled of chili oil. She obsessed over a pop star, so he flew across the country with her to see a concert. She wanted to go to Austin, so he took time off work and stayed with her for a week. But during the week I had a 102-degree fever from pneumonia, he didn’t reply to a single message. After I said that, I stood up and walked right out the door. I went to my parents’ house. As soon as I walked through the door, my dad held up his phone and asked me, “Did you throw another fit at Dylan?” “No.” “He just texted me. Said he forgot to go with you to try on wedding dresses and complained a bit.” My dad sighed. “You aren’t a kid anymore. Stop constantly picking fights over trivial things.” My entire body went numb. Dylan’s texts were always faster than my own grievances. He always complained first, played the victim first, and secured his spot on the moral high ground first. He magnified all my flaws and told everyone how incredibly understanding he was for putting up with me. “Dad, I just want to be alone for a bit.” My mom called out from behind me: “So when are you guys finally getting married?!” I didn’t answer. I just walked straight to my childhood bedroom. In this relationship, Dylan was somehow the victim in everyone’s eyes. No one knew what the actual truth was. The next morning, the second I walked into the office, Dylan called. His voice was laced with anger: “Where are you? Weren’t we supposed to go try on wedding dresses today?” Faintly through the receiver, I could hear Mia’s voice: “Dylan, the oatmeal is burning.” I leaned back in my office chair, my tone perfectly calm. “I forgot.” His voice spiked in volume: “Harper, what is that supposed to mean?! Just because I flaked on you a few times, you’re getting revenge on me, is that it?” “You’re still hung up on that stupid bullshit from yesterday? You didn’t listen to a single word of my explanation, did you?!” “I have a meeting to prep for. I’m hanging up.” Before he could finish yelling, I ended the call. Five minutes later, my phone buzzed. Dylan had posted a Facebook status: “Some people are just too spoiled. I specifically took the day off to wait for her for our wedding dress appointment, and she brushes me off with an ‘I forgot.’” “Three years, and she’s still this dramatic.” The attached picture was a screenshot of a text conversation. Dylan: “With Harper’s temper, no one else could possibly tolerate her but me.” Mia: “It’s okay, don’t be mad. Harper is just like that. She might actually be busy. I’ll go with you to order your tuxedo.” Dylan: “Having a best friend as good as you is her greatest blessing.” Mia: [Cute meme] “She’s just like that. Don’t be mad.” The comment section exploded instantly. Dylan’s cousin: “What is Harper throwing a tantrum over now? You can’t keep indulging her like this.” His buddy: “My future sister-in-law is a literal powder keg, living up to her reputation. Mia is so great. If you two were together, I bet you’d be insanely happy.” Mia liked the comment and replied with a shy emoji. Dylan replied with a sighing emoji. That evening after work, Dylan rarely came to pick me up, but today he was parked outside. On the passenger seat sat Mia’s favorite plush toy, and in the cup holder was a half-empty iced coffee. “Get in.” I didn’t move. He gave me a light shove. “What are you staring at?” His gaze swept over the plush toy, and he sighed, his tone saturated with impatience: “Here we go again, right?” I shook my head. “Let’s break up.” His face instantly darkened. “Are you ever going to drop this?! Just because Mia and I are a little close? Just because I complained about you a little bit?!” I looked at him. “You think that was just complaining?” I asked. “You two, a single man and a single woman, staying out all night together. Where you went, what you did—I knew absolutely nothing.” He scoffed. “Mia and I are completely innocent. How many times do I have to explain it to you?” I let out a dry laugh. “Right. Completely innocent.” He immediately pulled out his phone and started typing a message right in front of me. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of that familiar chat window— “Harper is threatening to break up with me again.” I reached out and lunged for the phone. He dodged backward. I threw myself at him, grabbed the phone, and with every ounce of strength in my body, smashed it into the concrete. The moment the screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, I heard my own voice breaking along with it: “Who the hell is Mia to you?! You report every single thing to her?!” “Are you just complaining, or are you desperately searching for excuses to talk to her?!” He shoved me violently. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” I was thrown backward, landing hard on my back, my palms scraping painfully against the rough asphalt. I pushed against the ground to stand up, but a sharp, excruciating pain shot through my ankle, and I collapsed back down. Dylan stood a few feet away, holding the phone with the shattered screen. His expression was pure disgust. “You just fell down. You don’t have to sit on the ground and pretend you can’t get up.” I looked down at my ankle, which was already swelling rapidly. No matter what I said, he wouldn’t believe me. In his eyes, I was always just making a scene over nothing. I pulled out my own phone, my fingertips trembling against the screen. “I’ll call 911 myself.” He let out a derisive scoff. His shattered phone buzzed. A message from Mia popped up on the cracked lock screen: “Come home quick. Dinner’s ready.” He yanked the car door open, the engine roared to life, and he dropped one final sentence: “You just sit there and think about what you did.” The taillights disappeared around the corner. I sat on the freezing concrete, the unsent 911 call still on my screen. The security guard from my office building ran over and helped me up. “Miss, your ankle is huge! Where’s your boyfriend?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. He sighed. “One look and you can tell he doesn’t care about you at all.” I finally broke down and cried. At the hospital. Torn ligaments. After wrapping my ankle in a cast, the doctor told me to stay off my feet as much as possible. I signed the paperwork alone, paid the bills alone, and hobbled on crutches from the pharmacy to the IV drip area all by myself. It wasn’t like this three years ago. At a party three years ago, he saw me from across the room and pursued me relentlessly, claiming it was love at first sight. Back then, when I had a 102-degree fever, he stayed awake all night watching over me until his eyes were completely bloodshot. Mia had laughed beside us. “His love for you is biological. He can’t escape it.” He prepared twenty-two birthday presents for me, making up for every year from age one to twenty-two. He said he wouldn’t marry anyone but me. He said he would treat me perfectly forever. My phone lit up. Mia sent me a voice memo. I tapped it. Dylan’s voice exploded from the speaker: “Is Harper completely psychotic?! The second she gets emotional, she just smashes things! She shattered my phone without blinking! I’ve put up with her for so long, and I’m so damn tired! Tell me, what is the difference between her and an absolute lunatic?!” Mia’s soft voice coaxed him: “Don’t be mad. I’ll buy you a new one later.” He had gone running to her to complain again. Washing his own hands completely clean, and dumping every ounce of blame onto me. Mia immediately followed up with a text message: “Harper, Dylan is furious. Just swallow your pride and apologize. He talks tough but he has a soft heart, you know that.” I typed back: “Mia, you know exactly how many performances you’ve put on for us over these last few years.” There was a long silence on her end before she replied with a “wronged” emoji. “Harper, what are you talking about? I’ve only ever done what’s best for both of you.” I stared at that line and laughed. What’s best for me—so every time he complained about me, you always gracefully agreed with, “She’s just like that.” What’s best for me—so you kept all those chat logs degrading me, and never deleted a single one. What’s best for me—so you spent three years acting like his surrogate girlfriend, with absolutely zero boundaries. When I got home, I laid out everything that had happened, from beginning to end, for my parents. I pointed to the cast wrapped around my ankle. “Do you still think he’s a good guy now?” My parents were speechless. The person who screams the loudest isn’t always the one in the right. My phone buzzed. Dylan was calling to yell at me: “What the hell did Mia do wrong?! She was just trying to convince us to get back together! When are you going to stop with this passive-aggressive bullshit?! She’s crying so hard right now she’s going to pass out.” I asked, “Are you guys still together right now?” It was the middle of the night. “Obviously,” he said righteously. “She’s actively trying to convince me to apologize to you. Though honestly, you should apologize to Mia first.” “I did nothing wrong, and I’m not apologizing.” “You are completely unreasonable!” He slammed the phone down. My parents, listening to the entire exchange, looked absolutely livid. The next day, I took the day off work. While scrolling through TikTok, I saw a new video Mia had posted. She was wearing the exact wedding dress I had tried on seven times. The camera panned, and Dylan was standing right next to her. “Does it look good?” He smiled adoringly. “You look beautiful in everything.” “Is that all?” she asked, tilting her chin up. Dylan dropped to one knee, pulled a ring from his pocket, and slid it onto her finger. “Are you satisfied now?” She nodded. “Satisfied.” “Put it on my card.” A sales associate could be heard whispering in the background: “She’s so much more decisive than that Ms. Harper from last time. Now this is true love.” I waited for seven appointments, and never got it. She was wearing it now. The video froze on the frame of him kneeling. I paused it. His eyes were full of absolute, willing devotion. It turned out he wasn’t impatient. He wasn’t too busy. He was just those things when it came to me. I couldn’t cry. My eye sockets ached with how dry they were. It felt like I had cried a lifetime’s worth of tears over these past few days. The comments were flooded with “You two are so perfect for each other!” and “Congratulations!” Dylan’s mother liked the video. Mia replied to her: “Waiting for good news!” A week later. I went to Dylan’s apartment to pack my things. Mia walked out of the bedroom, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Her hair was a messy bedhead, and she was wearing Dylan’s t-shirt. “Harper, what are you doing here?” I opened my suitcase and tossed my important documents in first. “Grabbing my stuff, then I’m leaving.” She leaned against the wardrobe, admiring her freshly manicured nails: “Harper, I don’t want to be mean, but Dylan used to complain to me all the time. He said you were a dead fish in bed. You didn’t know how to do anything. He was never in the mood when he was with you.” I stopped what I was doing. She smiled. “So I spent the last few days teaching him a few things.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. “He even told you about that?” Mia tilted her head: “What’s the big deal? It’s just sex. If he doesn’t tell me, who is he supposed to tell? Besides, we’re best friends! Talking about it won’t kill you.” Her eyes were completely filled with provocation. I stood up and sneered. “Am I supposed to thank you?” “Why are you getting mad?” She sighed. “I guess it makes sense. You always had a terrible temper. It’s human nature that he wouldn’t like you.” —It was always like this. Her so-called “mediating” was just pouring gasoline on the fire. Stepping on me, to show him just how amazing she was. I raised my right hand. And slapped her hard across the face. She screamed, her entire body twisting to the side as her forehead slammed into the corner of the wall. At that exact moment, the front door burst open. Dylan charged in and violently shoved me away—my ankle wasn’t fully healed, and I crashed heavily into a cabinet. Pain flared through my spine. “Harper, what the hell are you doing?! What did Mia ever do to you?! She even helped pick out your wedding dress so you and I could just live happily ever after!” I gritted my teeth and roared: “Dylan, why the hell does she get to pick out my wedding dress?!” “What ‘happily ever after’?! I broke up with you days ago!” “The wedding is canceled, and I already wired the engagement money back to your parents!” He was completely stunned. He froze for two seconds, his voice weak: “You wired… the money back?”

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Chapter 1 At the wedding reception, the fake heiress took the opportunity during a toast to lean in close, a provocative smirk on her face. “Happy wedding day. I tested both your husband and your marital bed for you last night. So satisfying.” Blinded by rage, I slapped her hard across the face. In the next second, Liam Sterling slapped me six times in front of all our guests. “Chloe never fights with you, she gave you everything, and yet you still can’t tolerate her!” “I’d rather marry a dog than a low-class woman like you!” With a single order, he had me thrown deep into a dense forest, cast into a pit swarming with venomous snakes to “reflect on my actions.” After seven days of being tortured, my three biological brothers came to settle the score. My eldest brother, a corporate CEO, kicked me so hard my leg broke. “Chloe cried all night. I’ve already made the decision to transfer all the assets in your name to her.” My second brother, an A-list actor, twisted my arm until it snapped. “From now on, our family tree will only bear Chloe’s name. As for you, don’t ever dream of coming back to this family.” My third brother, a renowned surgeon, was the most ruthless of all. He plunged a scalpel directly into my abdomen. “Chloe has had kidney disease since she was a child. To compensate her, you must donate a healthy kidney!” Before I could utter a single word of protest, my internal organs were carved out of me while I was still alive. Under an agony so intense it could shatter a mind, the system’s cold, mechanical voice beeped in my head. [Congratulations to the Host! You have completed all the abuse plotlines for the cannon-fodder supporting female character!] [Just wait for this body to die physically, and you can return to your original world and enjoy a 10 billion dollar reward!] 1. Hearing that sentence, I suddenly stopped howling and crying. The despair and agony in my heart instantly transformed into the sweet relief of knowing I would soon be free. My oldest and second brothers had already left with my kidney. In the freezing snake pit, only my third brother, Dr. Julian Sterling, remained. Blood was still gushing from the incision. As Julian stitched me up, he frowned in annoyance. “If you had just cooperated and donated the kidney earlier, I wouldn’t have to operate under such primitive conditions.” “Making me do all this extra work. So annoying.” Just last week, when Chloe was handling some paperwork, she got a paper cut so tiny it was barely visible. Julian acted like the sky was falling. He called in a top-tier medical team to assist him in bandaging her finger, checking her “recovery progress” every three hours. But now, facing me—who had just had an entire kidney ripped out without anesthesia—he complained that basic stitches were a hassle. Perhaps seeing that I hadn’t made a sound for a while, he leaned over, patted my cheek, and injected me with antibiotics. “Stop faking it. I know you’re perfectly healthy. A minor injury like this is nothing to you.” “You’re just trying to play the victim to make me feel guilty, so you can steal my affection from Chloe, aren’t you? You’re so dark and petty. Since you’re part of the Sterling family now, put away those pathetic little schemes!” If this were the past, facing such misunderstandings from my own blood, my eyes would redden. I would defend myself, crying that I wasn’t that kind of person. But now, I felt only a numb, detached calmness. I closed my eyes, my voice hoarse. “You can leave too. I can wait here to die alone.” To me, the fastest way to freedom was to die immediately. But to Julian’s ears, it clearly meant something else. “Evelyn Sterling, what is that supposed to mean? Saying depressing things on purpose to disgust me?!” He intentionally yanked the suture thread hard. The fragile, bloody edges of my flesh violently tightened, and dark blood welled up, bringing an agonizing pain that a normal person could not bear. Seeing me gasp, breaking out in a cold sweat from the sheer agony, a flicker of reluctance flashed in his eyes, and his tone softened slightly. “You are my blood sister. To find you, we three brothers spent an unimaginable amount of money and effort. You have no idea. How could we possibly just let you die?” “At the end of the day, if you weren’t so narrow-minded, if you hadn’t refused to tolerate Chloe and hit her, why would you be suffering like this?” As he complained, he injected a dose of anesthetic near my wound. “As long as you promise not to make things difficult for Chloe when we get back, and properly apologize to her.” “I can take you back to the hospital. You’ll receive the best treatment, and you won’t have to suffer here anymore.” Listening to his patronizing, charity-like tone, I only felt colder and more cynical. I was a transmigrator, but I had crossed over into this world’s Evelyn Sterling when I was six years old. Three years ago, after I had eaten endless bitterness, the three Sterling brothers found me in tears, saying I was their long-lost biological sister, and brought me back to the Sterling estate. But upon returning, I discovered the family already had a beloved daughter: Chloe, the girl they had adopted. The moment I saw her, I recognized her. Back in the orphanage, she was the one who locked me in a dark closet so she could sneak out and take my place to be adopted by the Sterlings. For twenty years, Chloe enjoyed all the love and care of my family, while I bore all of her suffering. Yet, all she had to do was frown and pretend to be wronged, and my three biological brothers would unconditionally take her side and accuse me of being petty. Even Liam, the man I was arranged to marry since birth, only smiled at her while treating me with cold contempt. I was exhausted from this entanglement and pain. I didn’t want to waste another ounce of energy arguing. I simply raised my hand and forcefully ripped apart the incision that had just been stitched. When blood and intestines spilled out, Julian screamed so loudly his voice cracked. “Evelyn! Are you crazy?! You’re going to die!” Watching his panicked tears, I just pulled the corners of my mouth into a smile. “Die? That sounds wonderful.” “Living another second with you people… makes me sick!” After saying that, I could no longer fight the heaviness of my eyelids. My head lolled to the side, and I passed out. I don’t know how much time passed, but I woke up from the darkness. I thought I had already returned to my original world. But when I opened my eyes, I saw the familiar face of my eldest brother, Alexander Sterling. “You’re finally awake.” He had dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept, but his tone was brimming with impatience. “You’re a grown adult. Why are you so impulsive?” “Making life-and-death scenes over the smallest things. Where is the dignity of a Sterling heiress…” The thought of having to deal with this rotten world again made me feel completely drained. I had zero interest in defending myself. I interrupted him with hollow eyes. “You’re right. I’m an embarrassment. I don’t deserve to live.” “So, let me die.” Alexander’s expression shifted drastically. He instinctively raised his hand to slap me. But when he saw my ghostly, bloodless face, his hand stopped in mid-air. “Evelyn Sterling! I’m warning you, stop talking nonsense!” His voice trembled. The impatience in his eyes faded slightly, hiding a sliver of panic that even he hadn’t noticed. “I paid a massive price to pull you out of that mountain. It wasn’t so you could lie here speaking garbage!” I gave a cold, temperatureless smile. Paid a massive price? He was probably just terrified that if I died, there would be no one left to act as Chloe’s spare organ bank, and no one left for her to play the victim against. As I thought this, the hospital room door pushed open. My third brother, Julian, walked in carrying a bowl of medicine. Seeing me awake, a flash of joy crossed his eyes, but when he spoke, his tone was as aggressive as ever. “Drink this since you’re awake. Don’t make me force it down your throat!” He handed the bowl to me. The liquid was pitch black and smelled incredibly bitter. I turned my head away, closed my eyes, and refused. “No need. It’s a waste of medicine.” “You!” Julian’s hand was shaking with anger, but he didn’t force the medicine down my throat like he normally would. Instead, he placed the bowl on the nightstand and reached out to check my wound. When his fingertips touched the bandages, his movements were unusually gentle. For the first time, he showed a fraction of the tender care he normally reserved for Chloe. “As expected. Using the best medicine really speeds up the recovery…” He re-wrapped the bandages and glared at me fiercely. “You better behave. If that wound tears open again, I absolutely will not stitch you up a second time!” His words were harsh, but I clearly saw the bloodshot lines in his eyes and the subtle trembling of his fingertips. It seemed he had spent the last few nights staying up to watch over me. If it were the old me, I would have been moved by this tiny crumb of gentleness. I would have hugged him and cried about how wronged I felt. But now, I only found it ironic. I shook off his hand, violently threw off the blankets, and moved to rip my incision open again. Right now, living a single second longer was pure torture. As long as I could die faster, I didn’t care how. “Are you insane?!” Alexander grabbed my arm, gripping it so hard it felt like he might crush my bones. But when I groaned in pain, he instantly loosened his grip, roaring at me with a voice choked with tears: “Evelyn, what the hell are you trying to do?!” “Die.” My tone was as calm as if I were discussing the weather. “Letting me die is best for everyone.” “You won’t have to be conflicted anymore, and Chloe can peacefully be the sole Sterling heiress.” “So, do me a favor and let me die faster.” My words seemed to stab Alexander right in his sore spot. With red eyes, he raised his hand and slapped me—but it was lighter than any slap he had ever given me before. It felt more like an outburst of frustrated desperation. “I forbid it! You are the biological daughter of the Sterling family! Who would dare let you die?!” Julian panicked too. He stepped forward, pressed my shoulders down, and pinned me back onto the bed, his tone carrying a rare note of pleading. “Evelyn, stop this.” “I know it hurts. But if you just focus on recovering… from now on… from now on, I’ll spoil you more, okay?” Looking at the pleading in his eyes, I found it absurd. Where was this attitude before? When he was ripping out my kidney while I was fully awake, when he was making a mountain out of a molehill over Chloe’s tiny paper cut—why didn’t he think about “spoiling me more” then? I closed my eyes, refusing to look at them. I let Julian tuck the blankets back over me, and let him bring the bowl of medicine to my lips, but I kept my mouth clamped shut. During the standoff, my second brother, Nicholas Sterling, pushed the door open, followed closely by a pale-looking Liam. Seeing me, Nicholas’s eyes turned red, and he rushed to the bedside. “Evelyn, thank God you’re awake. You scared me to death.” When I was first brought back to the Sterling family, Nicholas had been the kindest to me out of all my relatives. He took me traveling, showed me beautiful sights, and told me how much the family had missed me and searched for me over the years. He would often tear up when talking about it. But later, after Chloe wiped her tears and complained about me to him a few times, he completely changed his face. He accused me of being a two-faced hypocrite who betrayed the family’s sincere love for me. Seeing him now only filled me with annoyance. I dodged his hand as he reached out to touch my face. Nicholas’s hand froze in midair. With a bitter expression, he slowly pulled it back. Seeing this, Liam stepped forward and took the medicine bowl from Julian. “Let me feed her. She might listen to me.” His confidence wasn’t surprising. After all, over the past few years, anyone with eyes could see how much I catered to and tolerated this fiancé of mine. I had loved him to my very core. Just as he walked toward me, the hospital room door opened again. “Evelyn, I came to see you.” Chloe, wearing a hospital gown and looking incredibly frail, walked in. Alexander immediately stood up and supported her. “Chloe, you just had a kidney transplant! Your body is still weak, why did you come over here?” Chloe shook her head, her eyes landing on me, full of fake guilt. “It’s all my fault. If I had stopped Evelyn that day, things wouldn’t have gotten this far.” “I felt so guilty, I had to come and apologize to her.” Saying this, she took the bowl from Liam’s hands and sat down by my bed herself. “Evelyn, stop punishing yourself. Drink your medicine and heal. Everyone has been so worried about you.” “I know you still blame me, but I truly never wanted to fight you for anything. Everything in the Sterling family was supposed to be yours…” Her words sounded like a humble retreat, but every sentence implied that I was narrow-minded, clinging to the past, and purposely gambling with my own health just to throw a tantrum. Before her spoon even touched my lips, I raised my hand and slapped the bowl away. With a loud crash, the porcelain bowl shattered on the floor. The scalding black medicine splashed all over Chloe, instantly turning the skin on her wrists and chest bright red. Chloe let out a sharp gasp, her eyes immediately welling with tears, her voice cracking. “Evelyn… how could you do that? I just wanted to feed you your medicine…” She bit her lip, looking like the ultimate victim. The tears swirling in her eyes were enough to make anyone’s heart ache. “Evelyn Sterling! Are you insane?!” Alexander flew into a rage. He yanked Chloe behind him and glared at me viciously. “Chloe came here out of the kindness of her heart to feed you, and this is how you treat her?!” Julian immediately rushed over to check Chloe’s burns, his voice thick with panic. “How bad is it? Are you burned badly? Call a doctor, quickly!” Nicholas also frowned deeply, his eyes full of profound disappointment. “Evelyn, you’ve gone too far! Chloe actively apologized to you. When are you going to stop this nonsense?!” Liam quickly stepped to Chloe’s side, pulling out tissues to wipe her clothes, his tone full of reprimand. “Evelyn, can you stop acting like a child? Chloe meant well. Even if you didn’t appreciate it, you shouldn’t have attacked her.” The four men crowded around Chloe, showering her with concern, completely ignoring me—the person who had just had a kidney carved out and whose incision was still throbbing with pain. Leaning against Alexander’s chest, Chloe sneaked a glance at me. A flash of triumph crossed her eyes, though her mouth kept up the innocent act: “I’m fine. Please don’t yell at Evelyn. She’s just in a bad mood right now…” If this were the past, this “white lotus” act would have left me shaking with fury. But now, I just found it laughably absurd. Such a clumsy, amateur manipulation tactic. Anyone else would see through it instantly. Yet these four men—titans in their respective fields—willingly allowed themselves to be played like fools by Chloe. Or perhaps, it was a case of one willing to hit and the other willing to suffer. I was merely a prop in their twisted little game. “If your hearts are aching for this animal, please take your heartache outside. Don’t dirty my hospital room.” Hearing my freezing, detached voice, all of them trembled with anger. “Evelyn Sterling, it seems you haven’t reflected nearly enough!” Julian looked at me with deep disappointment and snapped, “From this moment on, I am cutting off all your painkillers!” “When you finally figure things out, when you are willing to apologize to Chloe, then we will resume your medication.” Alexander chimed in, “Exactly! Let her taste what real pain feels like. See if she dares to be this stubborn then!” Nicholas sighed, his eyes full of helpless resignation, but he didn’t voice any objection. Liam stood to the side, nodding silently, clearly agreeing with the decision. I closed my eyes. I didn’t argue, and I wasn’t angry. Cut off my painkillers? So what? The pain of this physical wound was nothing compared to the twenty years of grievances and torment I had suffered. If anything, the pain would keep my mind clear as I waited for death to finally arrive. Seeing my completely unresponsive attitude, Julian immediately stepped forward and disconnected my pain pump. As an overwhelming, avalanche-like agony washed over me, the family I loved most, and my fiancé, nervously surrounded Chloe and walked out of the room. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. Not a single one of them looked back. Enduring the blood leaking from my bitten lip, I reached under my pillow and pulled out a jagged shard of porcelain I had hidden away moments earlier. Without a second of hesitation, I dragged it across my throat. As I collapsed once more, I could feel the strength draining from my body. The pain from my wounds began to fade, and my heartbeat grew slower and slower… In the moment darkness finally descended, I actually smiled. This suffocating, agonizing life was finally over. … Out in the hallway, after walking a fair distance, Alexander suddenly stopped in his tracks at the front of the group. “You guys take Chloe to get her burns treated. My heart feels uneasy. I’m going to go back and stay with Evelyn.” As soon as he said that, Nicholas immediately spoke up. “No, I’ll go. Evelyn is really angry this time. Out of everyone in the family, I’ve always been the closest to her. I should be the one to talk to her.” Julian wasn’t happy about that. “What kind of talk is that? As if the rest of us aren’t her biological brothers!” “You guys are amateurs. What Evelyn needs most right now is a doctor. I’ll go back.” Seeing them all instinctively turn around to head back, Liam frowned and offered an apologetic smile to the still-confused Chloe. “They’re all going. If I, her husband, don’t go, it won’t look right.” “Anyway, your burns aren’t that bad. Just go have them treated yourself. I’ll come see you when I’m done.” With that, without even giving Chloe a chance to respond, he hurried after the three Sterling brothers. But when they pushed open the hospital room doors they had left only moments ago… a thick, unmistakable stench of blood hit them square in the face.

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Chapter 1 I scored a severely battered merman at a bargain price. The seller said he was incredibly stubborn—he refused to sing, and he refused to cry. I looked at the crybaby merman who currently hummed to himself all the time. He doesn’t seem like it. Later, he kept pulling out his own scales and handing them to me. He seemed deeply anxious, looking like he didn’t want to be with me at all. Once his wounds healed, I released him back into the ocean. The merman burst into tears: Giving scales is how mermen propose! It’s a proposal! You absolute monster, this isn’t catch and release—this is abandonment! 01 This was a merman covered in scars. The shipping crate was far too small for his size. He was curled up pitifully, his hands bound tightly behind his back with restraint straps. He wore a cheap muzzle over his face, and a yellow plastic tag was punched through his ear. On it was his serial number: 531. His beautiful silver tail had completely lost its luster. After verifying the contents, I signed the delivery manifest. From today onward, he was my merman. I reached out to pick him up, but his eyes snapped open, and he let out a low, warning growl. Those ice-blue eyes were full of arrogance and high alert. I fell into a momentary daze. That color… it looked exactly like the merman I had seen when I was a little girl. Because of that, when my best friend, Chloe Stewart, sent me the auction link, I had bought him without a second thought. 02 I cleaned and treated his wounds. Once I undid his restraints, he dove straight into the indoor pool. I had pre-filled it with saltwater, matching the salinity of the ocean. I pulled some prepared salmon from the fridge, walked to the edge of the pool, and kept it brief: “Eat.” He slowly approached and reached his hand out toward me. If I had known enough about mermen, I would have recognized that this was a hunting posture. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize this until a sharp, piercing pain flared on my arm. My bracelet snapped and fell into the water. Luckily, my reflexes were fast enough that I only suffered a tiny scratch. A bead of blood dripped into the pool, blooming in the water. His nose twitched, and he froze. Looking at his reaction, I thought: Maybe he didn’t mean to scratch me? Perhaps human skin was just too fragile compared to what he was used to. I sighed and bandaged the scratch on my arm. To avoid repeating my mistake, I decided to consult the digital manual the seller had sent with the order: [Mermen do not share human language; communication requires patience.] [Mermen can operate in terrestrial environments, but they need regular hydration and require additional freshwater intake.] [This species is inherently vigilant. Domestication varies by individual. For the owner’s safety, we recommend using an aquarium initially and viewing through glass. Direct contact is not advised.] [Some mermen possess the ability to transform their tails into legs. Our store is not responsible if your merman escapes using this ability.] [If treating the merman as a companion, please note there is no reproductive isolation between humans and mermen.] [Please note: A merman’s stamina and endurance far exceed that of an ordinary human.] 03 That was it? Having no other choice, I contacted customer service. I sent them my order number. Customer Service replied instantly: [Hi bestie! As stated on the product page, this is a clearance item. He refuses to sing, refuses to communicate, and refuses to produce pearls. He has an antisocial personality and is only recommended as a low-tier bedroom companion.] [If you are returning him because of a lack of singing or pearls, we do not accept refunds!] Me: [The merman scratched me. Should I be worried about some sort of marine bacterial infection?] Customer Service: [Don’t worry bestie, all our mermen are sanitized!] I thought for a moment, then asked: [I tried feeding him salmon, but he won’t eat. Does he have specific food preferences?] Customer Service: [Bestie, theoretically, mermen can eat whatever humans eat. He might just be unaccustomed to his new environment, or maybe he prefers his food cooked!] Cooked? Mermen eat cooked food? What do wild mermen do? Do wild humans help them grill their fish? Though confused, I accepted it and followed up: [How well-done should it be?] After a pause, Customer Service replied: [Bestie, Lexi thinks medium-rare should be perfect!] Oh my god. Do wild humans also need to know how to sear a perfect medium-rare? Me: [Who is Lexi? Is she an expert?] Customer Service: [Bestie, I am Lexi! (Heart emojis)] I couldn’t find a tutorial for “medium-rare salmon,” so I just pan-seared it a bit and called it a day. Walking back to the pool, I picked up a piece of salmon with chopsticks and ate it right in front of him. “It’s edible,” I said. He stopped right in front of me, the water level just resting above his collarbones. With lowered eyes and water droplets clinging to his eyelashes, he slowly raised his hands from the water. Only then did I see that resting in his cupped palms was my broken bracelet. He had retrieved every single bead. He placed the bracelet in my hand and offered a sweet, obedient smile. It was like a completely different fish from the one I met an hour ago. I thought: Lexi was right. He really does love medium-rare salmon. 04 “Thank you,” I smiled. He swished his silver tail, looking rather pleased. Putting the bracelet away, I picked up my chopsticks again and offered a piece of salmon to him. He looked at me, didn’t reach for it, but obediently opened his mouth, waiting for me to feed him. I brought it closer, and he bit down. The next second, his eyes went wide. He shrank back instantly, his eyes turning completely red. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he wanted to spit it out but didn’t dare to. Tears pooled in his eyes, swirled around, and finally spilled over. Round, perfect pearls dropped into the pool. Human-merman relations suddenly grew unprecedentedly tense. “What’s wrong?” I pinched his jaw, commanding, “Open your mouth.” He looked at me pitifully, obediently parting his lips and sticking out the tip of his tongue. A merman’s mouth is slightly different from a human’s, possessing a sort of alien, predatory beauty. The tip of his tongue was flushed red from the heat. That was it? Didn’t the seller say he wouldn’t cry? He seemed pretty fragile to me. Perhaps the sensation of “hot food” was so foreign to him that he was overreacting. I waited for the rest of the fish to cool down completely before feeding it to him. He seemed to really enjoy it. After he finished eating, I stared at the serial number on his ear tag. 531. I fully intended to let him go once he healed, so giving him a name felt unnecessary. But I hated calling him by a number. “Caspian,” I said. “From now on, I’ll call you Caspian.” He tilted his head, probably not understanding. He just slowly swam to the edge of the pool, rested his chin on the rim, and looked up at me. “Caspian?” Oh, so he can talk. 05 I suddenly remembered the manual stated mermen needed supplemental freshwater. I fetched a glass of water and handed it to him, but he vehemently resisted, turning his face away and refusing to drink. I had to contact Customer Service again. Lexi told me that in their natural environment, mermen primarily get their freshwater intake through their food—live fish. If the fish isn’t fresh enough, they get dehydrated. Furthermore, a merman’s default concept of “water” is seawater. Until they realize a body of water is fresh, they won’t drink it proactively. Now I understood. I grabbed a cup of ice cubes from the fridge. I tipped the ice into my palm and held it out to Caspian. He leaned in, raising his hands from the water. But instead of grabbing the ice, he gently held onto my hand. Maintaining that posture, he lowered his head and delicately picked up an ice cube with his teeth. His lips brushed against my palm, causing a slight tickle. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The crisp sound of ice shattering was distinct—it would make for a great ASMR video. He seemed to love it. The chill of the ice clearly brought him immense comfort. I had one ice cube left in my palm. My body heat began to melt it, and a stream of cold water slowly trickled down the lines of my palm. Caspian saw it. As if afraid to waste a single drop, he lowered his head, darted his tongue out, and swept the water into his mouth. He even traced the wet trail, pressing soft kisses along my arm. Because of the ice, the temperature inside his mouth was freezing, his tongue and lips cool against my skin. My fingers curled involuntarily. Finally, he took the last ice cube and narrowed his eyes in pure bliss. I handed him the cup, and he finished all the ice cleanly. “Caspian, do you like it?” I asked him. He tilted his head and pondered this for a long time. Suddenly, a look of realization dawned on his face. He flipped over and dove to the bottom of the pool. A moment later, he resurfaced, holding a handful of pearls. One by one, he dropped them into the empty glass. “Like?” He pointed to his own eyes, those ice-blue irises looking at me with intense anticipation. “Like?” His tail swished gently beneath the surface. I picked up the glass and gave it a shake. The pearls clinked together, making a crisp sound. Did he think “like” meant things that were beautiful and shiny—like ice cubes, like pearls, like his eyes? It seemed he didn’t grasp the true meaning of the word “like.” Meeting his expectant gaze, I shook my head. “That’s not what it means.” Caspian looked utterly devastated, his silver tail drooping lifelessly in the water. 06 Over the next few days, I started teaching him simple vocabulary. “E-ve-lyn Hayes.” Caspian enunciated my name syllable by syllable. I nodded. “Yes. I am Evelyn Hayes. You are Caspian. Cas-pi-an.” Instead of repeating his name, he said mine again: “E-ve-lyn Hayes.” As if he had remembered something incredibly joyful, his tail began to wag. “E-ve-lyn, Evelyn.” I sighed. His communication skills were slightly lower than an adult Border Collie’s. Since Caspian could move on land, he always tried to sleep in my bed. I ended up buying him his own. It was a hydrogel bed specifically designed for mermen. It was cool and incredibly soft to the touch. If you pressed a finger into it, it would leave a dent that slowly bounced back. I called Caspian over and personally demonstrated by lying down on the hydrogel bed. “This is your bed.” I stood up, gesturing for him to try it. He touched it gently with his finger. The moment his fingertip sank into the material, his eyes lit up. Caspian laid his entire body on the bed, pressing his cheek against the cool surface, his tail quivering slightly with sheer joy. Then, he looked up at me, shifted over to make room, and curled his tail into a circle. He patted the center of the tail-ring, urging me to join him. “No,” I refused. “I have my own bed.” Mermen might love these beds, but for me, it was far too soft. It lacked support and made me feel insecure. I thought I would finally get a good night’s sleep. But when night fell, he stood steadfastly by my bed, looking down at me obediently. I tried to reason with him. “You have a bed now. You should sleep in your own bed.” He tilted his head, acting as if he didn’t understand a single word, his tail swaying silently. Mermen have such a sense of entitlement, I thought. Any surface in this house that can be slept on, he assumes is his. I sighed. “Forget it. Get up here.” Without a moment of hesitation, he leaped onto the mattress and pulled me into his arms. He rested his chin against the top of my head, wrapped his long tail around my legs to cage me in, and let out a deeply satisfied sigh. Does he really not understand? It feels like he understands perfectly when it’s something he wants to hear. When he doesn’t want to listen, he plays the “I’m just a fish, how could I possibly understand human speech?” card. But his tail was smooth and cool, the temperature perfect against my skin. It was essentially a natural cooling blanket. I let him be. 07 I don’t know how long I slept, but I was jolted awake by a searing heat. I opened my eyes to find that the usually cool-tempered merman had turned into a living furnace. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth slightly open, and his lips were an alarmingly bright shade of red. Seeing that I was awake, he pressed himself flush against me, his tail tangling tightly around my legs. “Let go. You’re too hot,” I said, showing zero guilt about kicking out my personal cooling blanket now that it was malfunctioning. Caspian didn’t let go. He reached up, cradled my face, and lowered his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my cheek. After the kiss, he grabbed my hand and pressed it flat against his chest. Beneath his burning skin, his heart was beating at a terrifying speed. He looked up at me with pitiful, trembling eyelashes, looking as though he might burst into tears at any second. “Evelyn…” His voice was incredibly hoarse. I finally realized what was happening. I hooked one arm around his waist, scooped the other under his tail, and lifted him effortlessly. Caspian looked bewildered. But he accepted the new scenario almost instantly. Without a trace of struggle, he rested his head in the crook of my neck and nuzzled against me. I carried him straight to the pool. And tossed him in. The seller had mentioned that while mermen could operate on land, they needed to regularly replenish their hydration. His body was burning up, and his voice was completely shot. He was definitely dehydrated. From the water, Caspian stared at me in sheer disbelief. Seeing that I was completely unmoved, he swam a few agitated laps around the pool. Yep. Definitely dehydrated. Look how happy he is doing laps in the water. Eventually, Caspian retreated to the furthest corner of the pool and silently began crying little pearls. I nodded in satisfaction. Ah, tears of joy. 08 In the morning, before I was fully awake, I felt something lightly playing with the hand I had left dangling off the side of the bed. I opened my eyes and looked over. Caspian was lying on the floor beside my bed. He was holding his arm up, playing with my fingers. Scattered all around him was a sea of pearls. Seeing that I was awake, he gave me a look of deep, mournful resentment. I didn’t know how long he had been lying there. I sat up on the edge of the bed, facing a logistical nightmare. While these pearls were exceptionally beautiful and expensive, there was currently nowhere to step. It took me zero seconds to recognize the massive slipping hazard. I used my foot to sweep a clear patch on the floor. “You clean all this up yourself.” He looked even more wronged. By the time I finished washing up and getting ready to leave, he was still picking them up, one by one. I ended up working later than expected that night. When I got back, the apartment was dark. The moment I flicked the lights on, I froze. Every single container in the house—bowls, vases, cups—was filled to the brim with pearls. Different sizes, all shimmering with an iridescent sheen. The quality was astronomical. I stood there confused: What did he do all day? Did he secretly transfer the deed to my house and buy it out? I found him on his hydrogel bed. The merman had dragged my comforter off my bed and wrapped it completely around himself, leaving only the silver tip of his tail exposed. Scattered around him were several pieces of my clothing that I wore often. What is wrong with this fish? I still need to wear those clothes, and he’s using them to build a nest? This is ridiculous. Nearby, a glass cup was overflowing with pearls. The little mountain collapsed, and a single pearl went clack, clack, roll across the floor. The bundle of blankets shifted. A listless hand reached out from underneath and blindly felt around the floor. I gently touched his fingers and pressed the runaway pearl into his palm. He stiffened, then poked his head out of the blankets. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked. His grip on the pearl tightened. “Sorry… “Cleaned… it all.” The merman looked up at me with those ice-blue eyes. He reached out and gently tugged at the hem of my shirt. “Don’t be mad.” It suddenly clicked. He thought that because I left so early and came back so late… It was because I was angry with him. That was why he hadn’t dared to sleep in my bed, and why he had meticulously picked up every single pearl and stored them away. Imagining this merman thinking I was furious, sobbing while picking up pearls off the floor all day, made me want to laugh. But then I realized that mermen had no concept of “employment.” He didn’t know that a terrible thing called “overtime” existed in this world. When I thought about that, I felt like the one who should be crying was me. 09 “Caspian, I’m not mad,” I said seriously. “I was just working. It’s like hunting, do you understand? I went out to hunt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you so anxious.” He blinked. I wasn’t sure how much he actually understood, but he seemed to grasp that I wasn’t angry. I pulled a pair of small pliers from my bag, told him not to move, and carefully snipped off the yellow ear tag he had worn for so long. As expected, it left behind a pierced hole. I took out a small velvet box and opened it. Inside was a sapphire earring. The gemstone was a flawless cornflower blue, cut into a teardrop shape. The complex facets caught the light brilliantly, and at certain angles, it reflected an ice-blue hue that perfectly matched his eyes. Several strands of varying-length diamond tassels hung from it, looking exactly like white sea foam crashing against the waves. I clasped the earring into place, took his hand, and led him to the mirror. To make sure the earring was fully visible, I reached out and tucked a stray lock of silver hair behind his ear. “It matches your eyes perfectly. It’s beautiful. “Do you like it, Caspian?” The diamond tassels swayed gently. He turned to face me and lowered his head. For a split second, I wondered if he was going to bite me. But he just pressed a feather-light kiss against my ear. In the middle of the night, I woke up in a groggy haze. Caspian wasn’t beside me. He was sitting by the window, bathed in moonlight, carefully examining the sapphire earring. A melody drifted through the room. There were no lyrics, just a pure, haunting hum. It sounded as if I were suspended in the deep ocean, entirely disoriented, and someone had gently strummed a harp string. I guess it was true what they said—a merman’s song really did have the power to bewitch the mind. Didn’t the seller say he wouldn’t sing? But I was far too exhausted, so I closed my eyes and let it pull me back under. From that day on, Caspian hummed all the time. 10 My line of work is highly specialized, and it’s very easy to make powerful enemies. Eventually, they lost their patience and sent an assassin. When the hitman vaulted through my window, I was sitting calmly on the sofa. A cup of coffee, long gone cold, sat on the coffee table. I didn’t panic when I saw him. “I hope you’re here to offer me a bribe, our uninvited guest.” The assassin let out a cold sneer. “Our famously incorruptible Chief Prosecutor takes bribes now? “And what makes you think I look like I’m carrying cash?” I gave a light smile. “Everyone has desires. No one is truly incorruptible.” I leaned back against the sofa and crossed my legs. “Either the price wasn’t high enough, or the gift wasn’t right.” My gaze traveled slowly, deliberately, from his chest down to his waist. Being blatantly objectified, he finally realized what kind of “bribe” I was implying. He flushed with humiliated rage. “Hey!” At that moment, the smooth friction of scales sliding across the hardwood floor echoed through the room. Caspian slithered over to my side. He stopped at my legs, then slowly leaned down, obediently resting his head in my lap. His silver hair cascaded over my knees, the diamond tassels swaying back and forth. My fingers naturally found their way into his hair, gently combing through the strands. The assassin froze. “A merman? How do you have a merman? “Aren’t you the one pushing for the Oceanus Act?” I looked up, my fingers continuing their path through Caspian’s hair. “Are your bosses that worried about the Oceanus Act? “Once it passes, the buying and selling of mermen will be strictly prohibited. Do you know what that means? It means mermen will become infinitely more scarce.” I pulled Caspian up so he was sitting on my lap, his cheek resting against my collarbone. I reached out and lightly tilted his chin up. His eyelashes fluttered, his expression turning slightly dazed and pliant. I continued, “Did you really think those people care about the mermen? “No. What they care about is the scarcity. “Only when something is rare enough are they willing to pay for it—and they will pay unimaginable prices. “Tell your bosses to look at the bigger picture. Realize who our true target demographic is.” I looked the assassin dead in the eye. “Pushing the Oceanus Act is inevitable. Someone is going to do it eventually. “The only way to prevent genuine activists from gaining control is to have one of our own claim the spotlight first. “Obviously, I am that person.” He didn’t reply. It was probably a lot of information for a low-level hitman to process all at once. Caspian nuzzled his nose against the crook of my neck. He tilted his head up and gently bit my chin, looking incredibly impatient, like he couldn’t wait any longer. I wrapped an arm around the merman’s waist. “If you don’t plan on joining us, then please see yourself out. “We’re going to be very busy here.” 11 The assassin hesitated for a moment, but ultimately chose to leave. The very next second, a gunshot rang out. He spun around in sheer disbelief, only to see me pressing the merman protectively against my chest with one hand. In my other hand, a silenced pistol was still smoking. I walked over to his body and casually kicked his gun away. Then, I fished his phone out of his pocket, yanked his head back by the hair, and used his face to unlock it. “You… lied?” His eyes were losing focus, but he still glared at me with pure hatred. “You knew what would be the most profitable… why…” Scrolling through his phone, I didn’t even spare him a glance. “I just told you. “If I don’t take this position, someone from your syndicate will. “That is exactly why I must be the one standing here.” Once I found the contact for his handler, I tossed the phone onto the floor. “Don’t worry. Your boss will be joining you in hell very soon.” If you want to be the good guy, you have to be more ruthless than the bad guys. Otherwise, you won’t survive long enough to do any good. Once he stopped breathing, I picked up my phone and made a call. “Chloe, come over. I have a package that needs handling.” Chloe’s voice was groggy. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” I checked my watch. “2:14 AM.” She cursed at me and hung up. I put my phone down and turned around, only to find Caspian standing right behind me. He was holding out a single fish scale, offering it to me. Thoroughly confused, I took it. The scale was cool to the touch, shimmering with a pearlescent gleam. “What’s this for?” I asked. He kept his head down, refusing to meet my eyes. Seeing that I had accepted it, the merman turned and bolted, diving straight back into his pool. I looked down at the scale in my hand, deeply bewildered. What does this mean? Catching sight of the bleeding corpse still lying on my living room floor out of the corner of my eye, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. What else could it mean? He was terrified, obviously. I had just executed a man in cold blood right in front of him. If he wasn’t scared, what else was it? Was he shy?

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Chapter 1 1 My best friend and my boyfriend were both individuals with Asperger’s syndrome—and high-IQ geniuses. I, on the other hand, was just their sidekick. At seven years old, while they were discussing high school physics, I was the one packing their backpacks. At seventeen, they were accepted into Ivy League universities early, while they casually picked a local state college nearby for me. At twenty-five, they graduated with their PhDs and became the “golden duo” of a top-tier research institute. I was just the receptionist there. We shared an apartment, where I managed their diets and daily lives, never once able to break into their high-level conversations. Even my own wedding turned into a backdrop for them to debate an experiment. “Ethan, the ceremony is starting,” I said, anxiously pulling his arm to get him to the altar. “What?” “The wedding…” “I wasn’t asking you.” Ethan didn’t even look at me. His eyes were locked onto my best friend, Chloe. “What were those parameters you just mentioned?” Chloe patted my arm, coaxing me in a low voice: “Don’t throw a tantrum, Emma. We’re in the middle of discussing an experiment. Just stall for a bit.” “It’s just a wedding. Worst case, we can host another one some other day.” The two of them immediately dove back into a sea of data I couldn’t understand. Reaching a point of excitement, they completely abandoned me and a room full of guests, hurrying out the door to head back to the lab. On their way out, they even bumped into the champagne tower, sending it crashing to the floor. Leaving me standing there, utterly humiliated. But this time, I didn’t clean up their mess like I usually did. Host another one? I didn’t need to. I was done being the genius’s bride. … At 2:00 AM, the front door unlocked. The two of them pushed the door open, discussing loudly, completely inconsiderate of the fact that they were waking me up. “See, Ethan? I told you we needed to tweak the parameters my way. It clicked perfectly!” Ethan pinched Chloe’s cheek, a little stubborn but clearly amused. “You just got lucky.” When they saw me walk out of the bedroom, Ethan casually tossed his jacket onto the floor. “Emma, do the laundry for us. And make us some ramen. Chloe is hungry.” He didn’t seem to care at all about how today’s wedding had ended. “I’m tired.” I said it coldly. It was my very first time refusing him. Ethan froze. Chloe bumped his shoulder hard and winked dramatically. “Idiot! Your EQ is so low! Can’t you see Emma is throwing a fit?” “You ignored her for our experiment today, and she’s mad!” With that, she pinched Ethan’s chest and laughed. “There, there! I punished him for you. Don’t be mad anymore, bestie!” Ethan hissed in pain and rubbed his temples exhaustedly. “Emma, we’re exhausted enough from the lab. Can you just give us a break?” “It was just a wedding. How could that be more important than our research progress? Honestly, nobody cares about that stuff except the bride.” “Worst case, we’ll just throw a bigger, better one.” I couldn’t even count how many times this had happened. Two years ago, during our graduation trip, I waited for them at an international airport for seven hours. Ethan eventually called to tell me they lost track of time in the lab. A year ago, at our engagement dinner, Chloe claimed there was an “equipment anomaly” and dragged Ethan away, leaving me to handle the guests alone. Over the last six months, I had made four appointments at City Hall for us to get our marriage license, and he stood me up every single time. Every time, Ethan’s excuse was that he couldn’t leave the lab. In their world of scientific research, everything related to me was forever insignificant. “What do you mean, ‘just a wedding’?” Even my question fell on deaf ears. The two of them were already huddled over a stack of documents, arguing again. Everyone envied me for having such a successful fiancé and best friend. But I truly didn’t want to be this invisible, nonexistent shadow anymore. Silently opening my phone, I updated my resume, submitted it online, and bought a one-way ticket to Chicago. 2 Early the next morning, a severe storm rolled in. I hurried downstairs, planning to catch a ride to work in Ethan’s car. Even though I was just a receptionist, we did work at the same institute. Ethan started the car while deep in conversation with Chloe, who was sitting in the passenger seat. I frantically tapped on the window, but he didn’t notice and drove straight off. “Ethan, wait!” I chased after the car for a few steps, slipped on the slick pavement, and fell hard, scraping my elbow. Ethan still didn’t see me. Whenever Chloe was around, he was blind to my existence. I could only hastily wipe away the bloody mud, endure the stinging pain, and run toward the subway station. By the time I reached the institute, I was late. Ethan and Chloe were walking shoulder-to-shoulder when they passed the front desk. Seeing me, the smiles vanished from their faces. Ethan frowned. “Is this how you do your job? Look what time it is.” “Why didn’t you wait for me this morning?” I asked, forcing down my heartbreak. Before Ethan could reply, Chloe chimed in. “It’s not that Ethan didn’t want to wait for you, Emma. If you don’t do research, you wouldn’t understand. Every single second of our experiments is crucial. We really can’t waste time waiting.” She patted my shoulder, speaking in a low, coaxing tone. Ethan sighed heavily. He looked at me with exasperation, like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “You knew it was storming. Why couldn’t you leave the house earlier?” “Ever since we were in school, I’ve told you to be more disciplined. Why do you never listen?” “I don’t expect you to achieve greatness like Chloe, but can’t you even do a basic receptionist job properly?” But I clearly remembered all the times Chloe forgot her bag. He was always so patient with her. He would laugh and tease her, calling her a “genius in the lab, but a lovable klutz in life.” In that moment, I suddenly felt too tired to even argue. The next second, Ethan abruptly took a step back, turning his head to pretend he didn’t know me at all. Someone was approaching. Ethan had told me the institute forbade office romances, so we had to strictly avoid suspicion. The passing colleagues stopped to tease him and Chloe: “Oh, Dr. Brooks, Dr. Bennett! If it isn’t the institute’s golden duo!” “Did the lovely couple come to work together again today?” I kept my head down numbly. I was used to this. At the institute, Ethan and Chloe were the perfect match. Childhood sweethearts, twin geniuses, dual PhDs, rising stars. Until someone gasped: “Who says Ethan doesn’t know how to spoil a girl? Isn’t that bag the new season’s limited edition? That’s so expensive and hard to get!” I stole a quiet glance and froze. Chloe’s bag was indeed beautiful. I had mentioned that exact bag to Ethan before. He had gone online and bought me a cheap, unbranded knockoff instead. He told me he was too busy and couldn’t tell the difference. But now, the authentic, limited-edition color was slung over Chloe’s shoulder. “Hey, you, the receptionist. Can’t you see Dr. Bennett and Dr. Brooks are discussing work here?” “Pour them some tea. You have zero situational awareness.” I quickly snapped back to reality, suppressing the sour ache in my chest. I nodded apologetically and hurried over to pour the tea. Suddenly, getting overly excited about their conversation, Chloe threw her hands up. The scalding hot tea spilled everywhere. It ran straight down my sleeve and soaked my shirt. The pain made the blood drain from my face. Ethan shoved me aside and carefully grabbed Chloe’s hands. “Chloe! Are you okay?!” After making sure Chloe wasn’t burned, he frantically checked the data sheets on the table, inspecting them meticulously. Only then did he finally look at me, his voice dark with anger. “You can’t even pour a cup of tea properly? Do you have any idea how important her hands are for our experiments?!” “Alright, Ethan, do you care more about me or the experiment?” Chloe feigned annoyance. Then, she finally noticed me clutching my arm, which was now a massive, blistering red patch. She let out a gasp. “Ethan, Emma got burned really badly! Go get the burn ointment, hurry!” Only then did Ethan frown and pull my arm over to inspect it. Seeing no one else around, he blew on it gently and lowered his voice. “Does it hurt? Wait here. I’ll go get the medicine.” But I waited until the end of my shift, and the burn ointment never came. Because Ethan had turned right around, taken Chloe into the lab, and completely forgotten about a trivial matter like me. 3 Soaked from the storm and suffering a severe burn, I developed a high fever that afternoon. Perhaps seeing that I looked genuinely terrible, Ethan broke his own rules, ended his work early, and drove me home. Tonight, I planned to officially tell him the wedding was off, and that I was leaving. My head was splitting as I lay delirious against the window. Halfway home, Chloe, sitting in the passenger seat, suddenly gasped in excitement. “Ethan, change routes! Professor Davis is giving a seminar at MIT tonight! We have to go! It’s exactly the direction we’re researching!” Ethan’s dark eyes instantly lit up. “An opportunity like this is incredibly rare. We can’t miss it.” “But… Emma isn’t feeling well. Shouldn’t we take her home first?” Ethan hesitated for a few seconds, checking his watch. “No. The storm is causing massive traffic jams. We won’t make it in time.” “Emma, get out. Take a cab home yourself. Don’t worry, we’ll be home to take care of you as soon as it’s over.” I barely had time to plant my feet on the pavement. The black Audi sped off impatiently into the rain. Burning up with a fever, I nearly passed out on the side of the road. It took me two hours to get home, drenched like a drowned rat. The dishes from the weekend were still piled up in the sink. The two grand scientists’ time was far too precious. If I didn’t do the chores, no one did. Once, I asked Chloe to help me hang the laundry. Ethan had started a massive screaming match with me over it. Forget it. I’m moving out anyway, I thought. I forced myself to ignore the filthy apartment and collapsed exhaustedly onto the sofa. Coincidentally, the algorithm on my phone recommended the live stream of the exact seminar Ethan and Chloe had gone to attend. It sounded like alien code to me; I couldn’t understand a single word. Until the Q&A session. Ethan took Chloe’s hand, and they walked up to the microphone together to ask a question. Brilliant and beautiful. The audience erupted into cheers and applause. The host tactfully smiled and asked, “Are you two doctors a couple?” Chloe answered with a hint of pride: “Yes! We’ve been classmates since kindergarten, and now we even share the same research field.” The college students in the crowd playfully cheered: “You guys are so lucky! You must have so much in common to talk about!” Chloe smiled warmly, nodding. “Absolutely! If you’re looking for a partner, make sure you find someone walking the exact same path as you!” Ethan, who rarely spoke in public settings, actually chimed in: “I agree with her. Don’t weigh yourself down with a burden on your life’s path.” A burden? I let out a bitter laugh. Because of their neurodivergence, they had severe deficits in self-care. In elementary school, they couldn’t tie their shoes. I was the one who crouched down to tie them. In middle school, they couldn’t read a map or take the bus. I was the one holding their hands to guide them. Even in college, I went over regularly to clean their dorms, and I nursed them when they were sick. For my boyfriend and my best friend, I had practically forfeited my own life. That day, the institute’s “golden duo” went viral on social media. From kindergarten to their PhDs, Ethan and Chloe’s intertwined history was laid bare for the world to see. Their names were always listed side-by-side on honor rolls. They always stood shoulder-to-shoulder during speeches. They tied for top valedictorian in the state, scoring the exact same points in every subject. Even in their academic papers, they constantly referenced and debated each other. They had become the literal definition of soulmates. No one noticed that in the corner of every single group photo, there was a tiny, blurry me. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to stop scrolling. Ethan and Chloe, who promised to come home early to take care of me, didn’t return all night. The next morning, I drafted my resignation letter and arrived at the institute right on time. I immediately noticed the atmosphere around me was bizarre. “She’s not even that pretty for a receptionist, yet she’s delusional enough to think she can be a homewrecker.” “She’s so manipulative. Yesterday, she followed Dr. Brooks to the parking lot and forced her way into his car.” “But guess what? I saw her get kicked out halfway down the street! Karma!” I checked the company group chats and realized someone had recorded a video of me trying to catch a ride with Ethan the day before. In the video, his expression was ice-cold, all his attention focused entirely on Chloe. It really did make me look like a desperate homewrecker throwing herself at him. Just as I was about to publicly clarify our relationship, Ethan beat me to it, sending a message to the entire group chat. “Emma is just our roommate, and she is Chloe’s best friend.” The moment he sent that, the looks of absolute disgust directed at me only multiplied. “Have you no shame? Trying to steal your own best friend’s man?” My whole body went cold. I couldn’t help but march up to Ethan and confront him: “Why didn’t you tell them I’m your girlfriend of several years?! What do you mean ‘just a roommate’?!” Ethan closed his eyes, his voice frigid. “What did you want me to say? Everyone here already assumes Chloe and I are together!” “If I deny it, what will they think of Chloe? Do you have any idea how many vicious rumors would start?” “From now on, we need to keep our distance and avoid suspicion.” “Once we host the makeup wedding and invite the colleagues, the truth will naturally come out.” So he did understand the destructive power of rumors. So he wasn’t entirely oblivious to the world outside of his research. He was perfectly capable of being considerate of others’ feelings—it was just that the person he considered had never been me. It didn’t matter anymore. Because there was never going to be a second wedding. 4 My final shift at the institute was an evening shift. Just before it was time to clock out, the blaring sound of the building’s fire alarm shattered the silence. Followed immediately by thick, choking smoke. Fire! The blaze was spreading incredibly fast from the second-floor laboratories. Within seconds, the dense smoke made it impossible to see or breathe. Flames rapidly swallowed the first floor, searing my arm. I don’t know how much time passed, but I saw someone charge through the smoke holding a fire extinguisher. It was Ethan. “Ethan, I’m here…” Overwhelming pain and primal terror consumed me. Using the very last ounce of my strength, I grabbed the hem of his jacket, like a drowning woman clutching a piece of driftwood. But he didn’t even look down. “Chloe! Where are you?!” In the final seconds before I lost consciousness… I heard him screaming Chloe’s name with a raw, desperate hoarseness. … I woke up in the hospital. The burn wounds on my neck and arms throbbed with a searing, agonizing pain. Every slight movement pulled at my nerves. “It hurts…” Seeing Ethan standing by my bed, my chest felt like it was being crushed by a giant fist. The helplessness of being abandoned yet again, the agony of nearly burning to death… my tears began to fall uncontrollably. “Why didn’t you see me again?” I heard my own voice, ragged and raspy, carrying a pathetic sliver of desperate attachment. But I didn’t get an answer. What I got was Ethan, his eyes bloodshot with rage, violently smashing a glass cup against the wall near my head. “What the hell are you crying for?!” “Because of your negligence, Chloe got hurt! Our experimental data is gone! The life’s work of our entire team is reduced to ashes!” I flinched violently from the pain, my ears ringing from the crash. But Ethan had already lost all reason. He screamed at me: “Why can’t you ever do anything right?! You’re completely useless! You can’t even be a receptionist properly!” “Why do you always have to be such a burden?!” “Why didn’t you do your final security patrol last night?!” “The fire started in Lab 02 on the second floor. That’s a restricted area. It wasn’t my assigned zone. Someone inside the lab mishandled the equipment and caused—” Facing the condemning glares of my colleagues who had gathered in the room, I fought through the agony to explain. But my words only enraged Ethan further. Completely ignoring how weak I was after barely surviving a fire, he grabbed me by the collar of my hospital gown. “What are you saying?! Are you trying to frame Chloe?!” “Look at her! She’s your best friend!” “Because of your screw-up, she got hurt, she lost her data, and now you have the nerve to slander her? Do you have no conscience?!” Chloe stood behind him, head bowed, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t say a word. I heard the other colleagues whispering loudly: “Exactly, what does this have to do with Dr. Bennett? Emma is so quick to pass the buck. Nighttime security checks were literally her only job.” “I am not framing anyone.” “Ethan, you will see the evidence.” I wiped my tears away, forcing myself to remain calm. “The investigation team will provide a full report on the exact cause of the fire.” “Nurse, I would like these people to leave my room.” I used all my remaining strength to say it. In that moment, the heart that had hurt for so long finally, completely flatlined. All the memories, all the bonds the three of us once shared. It felt as if they had all burned to ash in that fire. Seven days later, I was discharged. This time, the apartment was an absolute disaster zone. There was barely a place to step. I quickly packed my luggage and boarded a flight to Chicago. Just as I settled into my new place, I received a message from the investigation team. “Ms. Emma, here is a portion of the security footage and the official fire cause report.” Watching the footage, I froze, my pupils contracting slightly. Chloe, Ethan… I think you’re going to have to say goodbye to the institute.

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Chapter 1 My father was the youngest ace pilot in the country. His flying skills were unmatched. Yet, on the day my mother suffered a massive heart attack and desperately needed a medevac transfer, he refused to fly, claiming severe weather conditions. Later, someone caught him on camera flying his private plane under a cloudless, blue sky, dropping a shower of rose petals to celebrate the birthday of another woman’s daughter. Meanwhile, my mother died on a stretcher waiting for a rescue that never came. He didn’t even show up to her funeral. For twenty years, my uncle drove a night-shift taxi to put me through flight school. On the day I became the youngest Chief Examiner for the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), an airline submitted the promotion dossier for a genius female pilot. The airline’s CEO personally vouched for her, his tone incredibly deferential. “Chief Examiner Vance, this girl is exceptionally gifted. With just your signature, she’ll become the youngest female captain in the industry.” I flipped through her flight logs. But when I reached the section for Family Relations and Emergency Contacts, I froze. I stared at the girl’s photo for a long time. Then, I closed the file and said quietly, “I’m sorry. I’m rejecting her evaluation.” 1 Mr. Preston’s smile froze on his face. He looked down at the file I had pushed back, then back at me. “Chief Vance… what do you mean, rejecting?” “Exactly what it sounds like.” He tugged at his tie. “Why don’t you take another look? Chloe’s flight hours exceed the promotion threshold by three hundred hours. She got straight A’s on her simulator exams, and scored perfectly on three emergency handling scenarios last year. With a resume like this, you won’t find a second First Officer her age in the entire country.” “Mr. Preston, the Chief Examiner has the authority to veto any questionable dossier without requiring the airline’s approval.” His hand rested on the cover of the file, making no move to take it back. “Chief Vance, how about this? I’ve booked a private room at the Capital Club for tomorrow night. We can sit down and discuss the details—” “Take the file back.” He went silent for a few seconds. The last trace of a smile vanished completely from his lips. He picked up the file, turned, and walked toward the door. At the threshold, he stopped. “Chief Vance, you’re twenty-nine this year.” “Yes.” “It wasn’t easy getting to where you are, was it?” His voice was quiet, almost like he was talking to himself. The door closed, leaving the office in silence. I turned around, staring at the faint indentation the file had left on my desk. Under the Emergency Contact section, a name had been written out clearly. Arthur Vance. I stared at that name for a moment before shifting my gaze out the window. The sky was incredibly blue. Just as blue as it had been that day, twenty years ago. My uncle told me that day, he stood outside the doors of the county hospital, dialing my father’s number over and over again. Thirty-seven missed calls. On the thirty-eighth, the call connected. It was loud on the other end. He could hear a child laughing, and the whining deceleration of an airplane propeller. My father only said one sentence. “The weather is bad today. Can’t fly.” Then, he hung up. My uncle sat in the emergency room hallway for the entire night, holding my mother after her heart stopped beating. The next day, someone posted photos on a local community forum. In the pictures, a white Cessna swooped low, showering pink rose petals from its belly. Under a cloudless, pristine blue sky. That afternoon, my secretary knocked on the door. “Chief Vance, Vance Airlines called. They asked if you hadn’t finished reviewing the file Mr. Preston brought over. They wanted to know when it would be approved.” “I finished reviewing it. Tell them the official rejection letter will be issued through the system tomorrow.” My secretary hesitated. “Chief Vance… the majority shareholder of Vance Airlines… is Arthur Vance.” “I know.” She saw the look in my eyes and didn’t say another word. That night, I called my uncle. He was working his night shift; I could hear the rhythmic scraping of the windshield wipers in the background. “Uncle Joe, did you eat yet?” “I did. Why the sudden call?” “Nothing, just checking in.” He let out a short laugh and didn’t press further. Before hanging up, he added: “Your mom’s anniversary is the day after tomorrow. Don’t forget.” “I remember.” That night, I opened my safe. Inside was a manila envelope, the tape sealing it yellowed with age. There were two documents inside. The first was the Pre-Flight Weather Assessment Report signed and submitted by Arthur Vance twenty years ago on that exact day. The conclusion box read: Unsafe for Takeoff. The second document was the hourly meteorological observation log from the National Weather Service’s South City Station for the exact same day. Visibility: 10+ miles. Cloud ceiling: 10,000+ feet. Wind speed: 5 knots. Clear skies. It took me seven years to get my hands on both of these documents. One came from the FAA’s old archives, and the other I pulled directly from the National Weather Service’s records. They had never been placed side-by-side on the same desk for comparison. Because today, at 6:00 PM, the corporate secretary of Vance Airlines made a phone call to the FAA’s Office of the Inspector General. They filed a complaint accusing Chief Examiner Lincoln Vance of “suspected abuse of power and personal vendettas.” I had been waiting for that phone call for a very, very long time. 2 The next morning, Inspector Miller from the OIG called me. “Lincoln, Vance Airlines filed a formal complaint against you. Are you aware?” “I am.” “They’re claiming you vetoed Chloe’s promotion without providing a valid, documented reason.” “The written justification will go through the system today. I’ll make it perfectly clear.” “There’s something else. Arthur Vance himself is coming to the agency. He’ll be here this afternoon.” I gripped the phone in silence. “Do you want to recuse yourself for the time being?” Inspector Miller’s voice softened. “No.” At 2:20 PM, a black Maybach pulled up to the entrance of the FAA building. Standing by the third-floor window, I watched Arthur Vance step out of the car. It had been twenty years. He looked older than his photos, graying at the temples, but his back was still ramrod straight. His navy blue overcoat was impeccably tailored. The way he walked reminded me of something my uncle once said. “Your dad… he’s a hell of a pilot, and he’s got a spine of steel.” “It’s just bent in the wrong direction.” He didn’t come looking for me first. He went straight to the Director’s office. The door stayed closed for forty minutes. When he came out, the Director personally escorted him to the end of the hallway. Then, my secretary called for me. “Chief Vance, Conference Room 307.” When I pushed the door open, Arthur Vance was already sitting on the opposite side of the long table. Mr. Preston was there, and sitting next to him was a woman named Evelyn. She was in her late forties, wearing a pearl necklace. I recognized her. Her photos were in that forum post from twenty years ago. She had stood next to the Cessna, smiling radiantly, holding a little girl in a pink princess dress. That little girl was Chloe. “Have a seat,” Arthur said, looking at me. His tone was level, like he was addressing a subordinate. I sat down across from him. “Chief Vance, I’ve reviewed Chloe’s file. There are no issues. What is your reason for rejecting it?” “Her flight hours are questionable.” “Questionable?” He frowned. “Every single flight log is signed off by her flight crew, the data is complete, and it passed our internal airline audits.” “Airline internal audits are the airline’s business. The FAA’s evaluation is my business.” He looked at me. There was no anger, just a faint, assessing gaze. Evelyn suddenly spoke up from the side. “Chief Vance, Chloe has had a gift for flying since she was a little girl. She got her private pilot license at eighteen. At twenty-two, her scores have surpassed the lifetime achievements of many veteran captains. She truly earned her place today through hard work.” Her voice was incredibly gentle. Just as gentle as the smile in that photograph from twenty years ago. “Ms. Evelyn, I am not evaluating her talent. I am auditing her file.” “Then tell me, what exactly is wrong with her file?” “The audit findings will be delivered to the airline in writing.” “I want to hear it right now.” Arthur raised a hand. Evelyn fell silent. He pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and slid it across the table. “This is an offer letter for you to serve as the Chief Aviation Consultant for Vance Airlines. Three million dollar annual salary, plus stock options.” He leaned back in his chair. “Your current job is too exhausting. And you’re still young. Don’t back yourself into a corner.” I pushed the envelope back. “Mr. Arthur Vance,” I said. “My name is Lincoln Vance.” His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “I know what your name is.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “And I know who you are.” He stood up and buttoned his overcoat. “Lincoln, if you’re not willing to do me this favor, I’ll find another way.” With that, he turned his back to me and walked out of the conference room. The click of his dress shoes faded down the hallway. As Evelyn passed me, she paused for a second and whispered, “You’re young. Don’t burn bridges you might need later.” After they left, I opened the envelope. The flap wasn’t sealed tight. Tucked beneath the offer letter was a certified cashier’s check from Vance Airlines. Three million dollars. I placed the envelope into a transparent evidence bag, sealed it, and labeled it with the date and an evidence tracking number. Then, I looked up. The indicator light on the security camera in the top-left corner of the conference room was glowing red. 3 On the third day, I saw my name on the FAA’s internal network. An internal bulletin had been issued: Chief Examiner Lincoln Vance has been suspended from approval duties pending an investigation by the Office of the Inspector General for “suspected procedural violations in pilot promotion evaluations.” That same day, three major aviation news blogs published articles simultaneously. “Youngest Chief Examiner Accused of Personal Vendettas, Blocks Promotion of Genius Female Pilot.” The articles didn’t mention Arthur Vance by name. They only claimed that an “exceptionally talented female pilot” had her promotion vetoed by an examiner for “baseless reasons, allegedly stemming from a personal grudge.” The featured image was a photo of Chloe in her pilot’s uniform, smiling brightly. The comment sections were a unified mob. “Support Chloe! Don’t let power-tripping men create a glass ceiling for brilliant women!” “If they find out he has a personal grudge against this girl, he needs to be fired and prosecuted.” That afternoon, my uncle called. “Lincoln, the internet is saying you’re bullying some young girl?” “Don’t read that garbage, Uncle Joe.” “I didn’t. Your aunt read it, and she asked me if you pissed off the wrong people.” “Uncle Joe… I did piss them off. But they deserved it.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “As long as you know what you’re doing.” He didn’t ask anything else. In twenty years, he never pried. He carried my mother on his back from the emergency room to the funeral home, and from the funeral home to the cemetery, without ever uttering the words, “Your father is a bastard.” The only thing he did was crouch by her grave after the burial and smoke half a pack of cigarettes. When he stood up, he said, “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll raise Lincoln.” On my second day of suspension, an unexpected visitor showed up. Chloe. She didn’t have an appointment; she was just waiting at the entrance of the FAA building. “Chief Vance,” she started directly. “I don’t know everything my father does. But I do know one thing: my flying skills are real. I flew every single one of those hours myself.” I looked at her. “Does he know you’re here to see me?” “No.” “Your file shows one hundred and twenty flight hours that have no corresponding raw QAR (Quick Access Recorder) data.” She froze, looking confused. “What?” “It’s written in your logbook, and it’s in the airline’s system. But the original QAR folders for those 120 hours are empty. The data was retroactively patched in as a batch upload later.” “That’s impossible. I flew every single one of those flights—” “I didn’t say you didn’t fly them. I’m saying the records were tampered with.” Her hands clenched into fists. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Finally, she turned and walked away. After a few steps, she stopped. “Chief Vance, if you’re right, who patched in those 120 hours—” She didn’t finish the sentence. When I got back to my office, a newly delivered document was sitting on my desk. It was a notice from the Inspector General: A special hearing would be convened in three days to review Chief Examiner Lincoln Vance’s enforcement actions regarding Chloe’s promotion. The hearing would be open to the entire agency. Representatives from all airlines were permitted to attend. I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. The manila envelope was still there. I put it into my briefcase. In the inner lining of the briefcase’s side pocket sat a palm-sized Bluetooth speaker and a USB drive. The USB drive contained a restored, digitized audio recording. Three years ago, when a retired veteran pilot handed me that cassette tape, his hands had been shaking. “Lincoln, I hid this tape for seventeen years. Giving it to you today… I’ll finally be able to sleep at night.” 4 The hearing was held in the FAA’s grand conference room on the ninth floor. Three officials from the OIG sat at the head table, with Inspector Miller in the center. The agency representatives and the airline observation section were packed. Vance Airlines brought seven people. Mr. Preston sat in the front row, flanked by his Chief Legal Counsel and PR Director. Evelyn was there too, sitting in a back corner. Arthur Vance sat dead center. Today he wore a dark charcoal suit, a golden Vance Airlines wing pin pinned to his lapel. When he saw me walk in, his gaze swept over me flatly. Inspector Miller read the docket. “This special hearing will review whether Chief Examiner Lincoln Vance committed procedural violations or abused his authority in vetoing the captaincy promotion of Vance Airlines pilot Chloe. Lincoln Vance, please present your justification for the veto.” I opened my portfolio. “One hundred and twenty hours of Chloe’s flight records lack traceable raw QAR data. Upon pulling the backend server logs from the airline, it was discovered that these 120 hours of data were batch-uploaded forty-eight hours prior to her promotion submission. The IP address of the uploading account traces directly back to the Flight Management Department at Vance Airlines Headquarters.” I submitted printed screenshots to the OIG panel. Inspector Miller took a glance, and his eyebrows twitched. The entire room went dead silent. Mr. Preston’s Chief Legal Counsel immediately stood up. “Chief Vance, delayed QAR data uploads have precedents in this industry. System migrations and server maintenance can cause batch syncing. You cannot definitively classify this as falsification—” “Which is why I did not classify it as falsification,” I replied. “I merely adhered to the evaluation protocol: I refused to sign off on a questionable dossier. This is fully within the authority of the Chief Examiner.” At that moment, Arthur Vance stood up. He walked out into the center aisle, facing the panel. “I am not here today as the Chairman of Vance Airlines. I am here as a veteran pilot with thirty years of flight experience.” “I watched Chloe grow up. Since she was a child, her dream was to become a captain. Her talent, her work ethic, her flying capabilities—everyone in this room is free to verify them.” “But today, she is being blocked by one man.” He turned around and finally looked me dead in the eye. “This man’s name is Lincoln Vance.” “He is my son.” Low murmurs rippled through the audience. Arthur continued, his voice steady and deliberate. “The marriage between his mother and me ended twenty years ago. For two decades, I failed to fulfill my duties as a father. That is my failing.” “However—” His tone hardened slightly. “The reason he sits in that chair today, using his authority to block Chloe’s promotion, is not because there is an issue with her file.” “It is because of her mother. He is using his office to settle a personal vendetta.” He enunciated those final words heavily. The air in the room froze solid. Inspector Miller asked me quietly, “Lincoln, do you have a response?” I didn’t speak immediately. Instead, I slowly opened my briefcase and took out the manila envelope. I pulled the two documents from the envelope and laid them side-by-side on the examination table. “This is the Pre-Flight Weather Assessment Report you signed and submitted twenty years ago.” I pointed to the first document. The paper was yellowed, but the words Unsafe for Takeoff were crystal clear. Signature: Arthur Vance. Date: March 19, 2005. “And this is the hourly meteorological observation log from the National Weather Service’s South City Station on the exact same day. Visibility greater than ten miles, cloud ceiling at ten thousand feet, wind speed five knots.” I pointed to the second document. “You claimed the weather was too severe to fly.” Then, I pulled a large 11×17 printed map from the bottom of my briefcase, unfolding it over the table. It showed an arcing flight path overlaid on a city map. “This is the flight trajectory of a Cessna 172, tail number N-10YZ, over the city between 2:00 PM and 4:00 PM on that exact same afternoon. The registered owner of this aircraft—” I looked at him. “Is Vance Aviation, owned by you.” Arthur’s face paralyzed. Under the fluorescent lights, the sudden pallor of his skin was impossible to hide. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Inspector Miller stared at the documents for a long time before slowly looking up. “Mr. Vance, regarding this weather report—” Arthur didn’t answer. I reached into the side pocket of my briefcase and hit the play button. The old audio recording crackled to life through the Bluetooth speaker. The volume wasn’t deafening, but every word was painfully clear. It was a young man’s voice, carrying a careless, dismissive laugh. “The weather is bad today. Can’t fly.” In the background, you could hear a child laughing. The whining deceleration of an airplane propeller. And the soft rustling of flower petals hitting the ground. The recording kept playing. Arthur Vance’s hands started to shake.

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Chapter 1 When my boyfriend, Ethan Brooks, was caught in a fatal accident during a geological survey, he managed to send back only three final messages. The first was a work report. The second was an apology to his parents. And the third was: “Chloe, you are my Quaternary Glaciation.” Chloe was my best friend. They were both brilliant geologists. Years ago, they secretly applied to the same geology program at the same university behind my back. Later, they became the most in-sync partners in their field. To understand what they were talking about, I forcefully switched my major to geology. But in the end, I only ever managed to run errands and do grunt work in the lab. Ethan used to comfort me. “Everyone has their own strengths. I’m just glad you’re my girlfriend.” But he would still look at Chloe with eyes full of regret and longing. Even in his dying words, he used terminology I couldn’t understand to confess his love to her. Not long after, Chloe also died in an accident. As distinguished alumni, they were buried side-by-side at our alma mater. I lived the rest of my life in deep regret. But when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of my junior year when I was supposed to switch my major. I looked at our group chat. They were completely ignoring my messages, happily chatting with each other. I smiled, and canceled my major transfer application. This time, I’m not chasing after them anymore. After I withdrew my application, notifications kept popping up in our group chat. The two of them were talking non-stop. I sent a message: “Have you guys eaten?” It was as if my text was invisible. It got buried until it was off-screen, and neither of them replied. The conversation had originally been about my birthday plans for tomorrow. But somewhere along the line, it morphed into a deep geological discussion that I couldn’t insert myself into. Without much hesitation, I left the group chat. To my surprise, the moment I left, Ethan sent me a question mark. Chloe also sent a message. I didn’t reply to either. Ethan then called me, his voice as gentle as always. “Ava, why did you leave the group?” Noticing my silence, he continued with his usual, patronizingly patient tone. “Chloe made that group. You suddenly throwing a tantrum and leaving really hurt her feelings.” “If you’re upset about something, we can talk about it when we see each other tomorrow, okay? Just add yourself back to the group for now.” Knowing full well that they had ignored me first, Ethan still chose to prioritize Chloe’s feelings. I sat blankly on my bed. My phone suddenly felt incredibly heavy, pressing down on my chest until it was hard to breathe. After hanging up, I rejoined the group. But I still didn’t reply to their messages. The next morning, while I was still trying to catch up on sleep, my phone vibrated repeatedly. Chloe sounded cheerful. “Ava, hurry up and come out for your birthday! We still have classes this afternoon.” Out of habit, I dragged myself out of bed to accommodate their schedule. It wasn’t until I reached the ground floor of my dorm that I fully woke up. Chloe had already thrown herself into my arms. Ethan stood behind her, a wide smile on his face, looking exactly like her boyfriend. Chloe mysteriously pulled out a gift box. “Open it! Ethan and I picked this out for your birthday.” Looking at the same exquisite box from my previous life, I felt zero desire to open it. Because I knew exactly what it was—a doll full of stereotypical girly tropes. In my past life, I opened it with genuine excitement, only to feel like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. Chloe and Ethan had been so thrilled. “Do you love it? We looked forever and both agreed it looks just like you.” I didn’t see the truth back then. It wasn’t until three months later, on Chloe’s birthday, that I realized what true effort looked like. Ethan used his connections to buy a genuine lunar meteorite for her. I accepted the gift with a flat expression. “Thanks.” Chloe pouted slightly. “Why aren’t you happy, Ava?” Ethan answered casually on my behalf. “She’s been busy transferring her major these past two days. She’s not unhappy.” He certainly knew what I was busy with, because he was the one who convinced me to switch majors in the first place. Back then, Ethan had said: “If your current major is too exhausting, just transfer to mine. We’ll look out for you.” So, in my junior year, I recklessly transferred to geology without a second thought. But later, when I was being chewed out by my advisor, Ethan had just sighed impatiently. “You were the one who insisted on studying geology, even though you know you aren’t smart enough.” Hearing his confident assertion now, I laughed. They didn’t know yet. I wasn’t transferring anymore. Chloe nodded and dragged me toward the dining hall. As soon as we sat down, Ethan walked out holding a cake. The moment I saw the rich, sickly-sweet chocolate icing, acid churned in my stomach. “Why is it a chocolate cake again?” Ethan said dismissively, “You don’t even like cake anyway, so I just let Chloe pick.” Chloe whined playfully. “But chocolate is the best! You really need to change your habits, Ava.” “I don’t eat chocolate.” They both knew perfectly well that I hated chocolate, but every single time, they catered to Chloe’s preference. Ethan gave me a strange look. But Chloe aggressively turned off the lights, cutting off his investigative gaze. The candlelight flickered and swayed. Ethan urged eagerly, “Make a wish, Ava.” I didn’t have much patience, squinting my eyes shut half-heartedly. But to my surprise, I saw Chloe excitedly put on a birthday crown and close her eyes to make a wish alongside me. The dim candlelight illuminated the gentle, entirely devoted gaze Ethan fixed on her. A sour, bitter feeling clawed at my chest, followed by the nauseating realization of having my life stolen. So, every birthday I ever had, Chloe shared my birthday wish. No wonder my annual wish of “I hope the three of us stay happy forever” never came true. I had absolutely no appetite for the entire meal. Ethan glanced at me multiple times. But he didn’t ask a single question, as if trying to avoid an argument. After dinner, we walked back to campus. Initially, I was walking between the two of them. But from the moment we left the restaurant, they started discussing their coursework. Without realizing it, I was slowly squeezed off the sidewalk and into the gutter. They walked shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing and talking, sentence seamlessly overlapping sentence. It wasn’t until we reached the front gates of their university that Ethan finally looked back at me, a helpless smile in his eyes. “How did you fall so far behind again?” “I won’t walk you back. You can head to your campus on your own.” I looked up at the massive gates of their university, watching couples walk inside together. I suddenly found it hilarious. When we were applying for college, we had all agreed to apply to the same school. But an hour before the deadline, they secretly changed their applications to the neighboring university together. They hid it from me for half a month, until the acceptance letters arrived in the mail. At the time, Ethan made up a flimsy excuse. “This school has a better geology program. We can’t just compromise our futures for you.” Chloe had also reassured me, “It’s fine! The two campuses are right next to each other. We’ll still be together.” But for three years, every single time, I walked back to my campus alone. I pulled my gaze back, my face expressionless. “Fine.” Ethan stared at me, his eyes growing dark. He suddenly said, “I’ll walk you back.” But the very next second, Chloe let out a sorrowful sigh. “Oh… but we have class soon. Ava can get back on her own.” Ethan frowned, staring at me in silence. I said calmly, “Don’t worry about me.” His brow instantly smoothed out. “Then I’ll walk you next time.” I turned and walked away. I didn’t even make it a few steps before I texted Ethan. 【Let’s break up.】 Not long after I hit send, I heard frantic footsteps behind me. Ethan caught up and grabbed my hand tightly. “Why are you suddenly saying this? Don’t make jokes like that.” “I’m not joking.” Ethan gave a soft chuckle and tucked a strand of windblown hair behind my ear. “Are you in a bad mood lately? Tell me what’s wrong.” He glanced over toward where Chloe was waiting. “But don’t bring this up to Chloe. She’s really anxious about finals right now, don’t distract her.” I froze in place. It wasn’t until my eyes burned so badly that my heart ached that I finally snapped back to reality. Even when I initiated a breakup, Ethan didn’t take it seriously. He only cared about Chloe. Before Chloe came into the picture, we were childhood sweethearts who knew each other better than anyone else. When we were kids, Ethan used to get into fistfights because other kids called me stupid. When we grew up, Ethan came up with every possible method to tutor me. When my parents divorced and abandoned me, he used all his allowance and savings to pay my tuition, and worked part-time tutoring jobs to cover the rest. But ever since Chloe—this younger girl who supposedly needed more taking care of—appeared, I was expected to step aside. By now, Chloe was sending a barrage of texts, rushing him. Ethan hastily wiped away my tears. “I have class. Go back and cool off.” I had heard that exact sentence countless times. Every time I fought with him over Chloe, it ended with him telling me to “cool off.” As if I was always the problem. While he always watched from a safe distance, never once validating my feelings. That night, Ethan sent exactly one message. 【Don’t forget to take your medicine.】 When I saw the message, my leg was throbbing. It was an old injury from years of dance training. In my previous life, after graduation, it got so bad I needed surgery. But right when I was scheduled for the operation, the funding for Ethan and Chloe’s two-year research project fell through. The experiment was suspended. At the time, I was doing grunt work in the lab during the day and teaching dance classes at night to scrape together money, but it was just a drop in the bucket. Watching them fail to secure grants over and over, their faces lined with stress… I gave them the money I had saved for my surgery to fill the financial hole. The experiment continued. But it became the biggest regret of my life. Six months after giving up my surgery money, my leg gave out while I was performing a freelance gig. I fell off a three-foot stage. At the hospital, the doctor looked at my X-rays and sighed heavily. “This is compressing the nerve. If you had done the surgery six months ago, we could have fixed it. Now… you’ll walk with a permanent limp.” I sat blankly on the hospital bed, the stark white walls blurring into ghostly streaks in my vision. I called Ethan and Chloe. Neither of them picked up. I called one of their colleagues. The colleague sent me a video. 【Someone had a birthday, the whole team came out to celebrate.】 In the video, Ethan and Chloe were sitting pressed against each other in the corner of a karaoke booth. Amidst the cheering crowd, they were playing a game where they had to pass a cookie mouth-to-mouth. The charged, ambiguous look in their eyes made it look like they were actually kissing. The flashing neon lights blinded me, and my heart clenched in violent spasms. It wasn’t until the next day that Ethan finally returned my call. He sounded entirely unbothered. 【Your leg is permanently damaged? It’s fine. Worst case, you just stop dancing.】 【Being out there performing for everyone all the time isn’t proper anyway.】 He seemed to have completely forgotten whose money funded his experiment. The freezing sensation of my ice pack pulled me out of my memories. I decisively booked an appointment with an orthopedic specialist for tomorrow. At the hospital, the doctor looked at my scans with a serious expression. “We caught it early. We can still operate, and it won’t affect your future career in dance.” “But you must strictly avoid any intense physical activity before the surgery. If it worsens, it might be too late to operate.” Luckily, summer break was just around the corner. I breathed a sigh of relief. When I returned from the hospital, I bumped into Chloe and Ethan at the dorm gates. Seeing the medical scans in my hand, Ethan frowned. “What are those?” “Just got some X-rays done,” I said dismissively. Ethan nodded and didn’t ask further. Because Chloe, who was currently weeping, demanded much more attention. “Ava, why did you break up with Ethan? Is it because of me?” “Ethan and I are just friends! You are the most important person in my life, why would you overthink this?” I stared at her quietly. I couldn’t help but remember when Ethan died in my past life, Chloe refused to accept reality and blamed the entire accident on me. “If you hadn’t kept texting him the night before, he wouldn’t have been sleep-deprived! He wouldn’t have made a mistake!” Because of Chloe’s accusations, everyone channeled their grief into hatred toward me. Even the media singled out her quote. I was cyberbullied so severely I developed severe depression and almost committed suicide. Hearing Chloe’s words now, I asked her back: “Chloe, don’t you like Ethan?” Chloe’s pupils contracted. She stammered evasively, “How could I steal your boyfriend? Besides, if we were going to date, we would have done it already. Why would he date you?” Ethan looked at me with deep disappointment. “Ava, you shouldn’t doubt Chloe and me. She cares about you more than anyone.” His voice carried a commanding tone. “Apologize to Chloe.” I shot him a sideways glance. “I don’t know if she cares about me, but you certainly care about her.” Ethan’s face darkened, and Chloe immediately dropped her crying act to shield him. “How can you say that about Ethan? Hasn’t he done enough for you? Without him, you’d be a college dropout by now!” To protect Ethan, Chloe didn’t hesitate to dig up my deepest wounds to humiliate me. Ignoring the piercing pain in my leg, I sidestepped them and kept walking. Chloe tried to chase after me, but Ethan stopped her. “Leave it. She doesn’t appreciate your concern, and look at you, crying so hard your makeup is ruined.” I could hear Chloe still sobbing. Ethan coaxed her gently, “She’s just throwing a tantrum. We aren’t really breaking up. We’ll both always be here for you.” I let out a bitter laugh. The moment I got back to my dorm, I submitted my application for the exchange student program. My advisor asked me one last time to confirm. “Only your current major has quotas for this exchange program. Are you absolutely certain you aren’t transferring majors, and want to apply for the exchange?” Thinking of Ethan’s arrogant assumption, I confirmed without a shred of hesitation. Early the next morning, Chloe sent me a text. 【Ava, I was too aggressive yesterday, please don’t be mad.】 【Ethan said you’ve been in a bad mood, so we’re going mountain climbing to relax! You love hiking, right?】 In the past, I only claimed I liked hiking so I could accompany them on their field trips. I was just about to refuse when Ethan called, his tone exasperated. 【Just agree to go. Otherwise, she’s going to throw a fit and wait outside your dorm again.】 “My leg is injured. I can’t climb mountains anymore.” I spoke coldly and hung up. But they really did block the entrance to my dorm building. Ethan spoke with an unquestionable tone. “The mountain we’re climbing today isn’t steep, and there’s a cable car. It won’t affect you.” I was sandwiched between the two of them and practically forced into the car. There were other strangers in the vehicle. The entire ride, Ethan and Chloe chatted enthusiastically with everyone else, while I sat there like an outcast. After getting out of the car, Ethan naturally reached to pick up my backpack. “I want the same treatment,” Chloe demanded, making zero effort to hide her intimacy with Ethan. Ethan smoothly swung her backpack over his other shoulder. It wasn’t until we started hiking that I realized this was another one of Chloe’s geological survey projects. I was just tagging along as an afterthought. Halfway up the mountain, a dull ache started radiating through my leg. “I’m not climbing anymore.” Chloe shot me an annoyed glance over her shoulder, didn’t say a word, and kept climbing. Ethan looked entirely devoid of patience. “I’m already carrying your bag, what more do you want?” The rest of the group walked past me with visible disdain. “Taking two steps and complaining about being tired. Why do newbies even come?” I threw my trekking pole to the ground and started heading back down. Ethan irritably blocked my path. “Going down alone is too dangerous. Just keep climbing, there’s a cable car at the top.” I don’t know how long we walked, but the sky grew dark, and there was still no sign of a cable car. My leg was trembling from the pain. I asked again, “Where is the cable car?” This time, the entire group fell silent. Chloe’s voice trembled with panic. “We took the wrong route.” I stared at Ethan in shock. He pressed his lips together and said absolutely nothing. Someone called emergency rescue. But our exact location was unclear, and no one knew when rescue would arrive. Fear began to spread. I whispered, “Ethan, my leg hurts.” Before he could answer, someone yelled, “Enough already! If you’re sick, why did you even come? You just wanted to leech academic credits and force Ethan to take care of you, didn’t you?!” The others chimed in, their expressions judging. “His actual girlfriend is standing right here. Have you no shame?” Seeing Chloe averting her gaze, I finally understood. They all thought Ethan and Chloe were a couple, and I was the shameless homewrecker. The pain made me break out in a cold sweat. I crouched on the ground, lacking the energy to defend myself. Ethan snapped coldly, “Everyone calm down. Don’t take your anger out on her.” After feeding me an emergency painkiller, Ethan crouched in front of me. “I’ll carry you down the way we came.” But Chloe suddenly spoke up, her voice thick with tears. “Ethan, I’m scared of the dark.” Ethan froze. “Don’t you have a flashlight?” She grabbed his sleeve. “Without you, I’m still scared.” Someone chimed in at the perfect moment. “Ethan, you should take Chloe down first. She gets scared easily.” Others agreed. “Yeah, plus Chloe’s safety is more important.” In the pitch-black darkness, every sound was magnified infinitely. I could hear my racing heartbeat. I could hear the contempt in their voices. And I heard the words Ethan said as he hesitated, then stood up. “You wait here for the rescue team. I’ll take Chloe down and then come back for you.” I grabbed his hand, trembling violently. “Don’t go, Ethan. I can’t wait.” But Ethan cruelly peeled my fingers off his hand. “Your leg isn’t that bad. The painkillers will kick in.” The sound of Ethan carrying Chloe down the mountain echoed into the distance. I sat on the ground, completely dead inside. The night wind on the mountain was brutal, stinging my tear-stained eyes. I don’t know how long I waited. Right before I passed out, the rescue team finally reached me. By the time Ethan rushed to the hospital, he was met with the awkward faces of his teammates. The glowing red letters spelling IN SURGERY above the operating room doors made his scalp go numb. What’s going on? Why is Ava in surgery?

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Twelve hours before the flash flood hit, the entire city was under an emergency evacuation order. My parents frantically stuffed all their valuables into the SUV and sped away. They took their adopted daughter, and they even took her two pet turtles. But they forgot me. As the muddy water began to pour into our street, my mother finally realized I was still at home. “Lynn, you need to run! The flood is coming!” “Where are you guys?” On the other end of the line, my mother’s voice sounded guilty. “Just run! Now!” Then, I heard Chloe’s excited voice in the background. “Mom, Dad, look! The highway gates are open! We can get through!” In that instant, cold reality hit me. They had already abandoned me and fled. After I miraculously survived the disaster, they came back, crying and begging me to recognize them. But I walked right past them and ran into the arms of my adoptive parents. “Lynn, you need to run! The flood is coming!” When the landline rang, I was woken up by the sound of rushing water. My backpack was already floating on the floor, and my second-grade worksheets were soaked into mush. “Mom, there’s water everywhere. Where are you?” I burst into tears, completely panicked, not knowing what to do. My mother didn’t answer right away. Her voice trembled with guilt. “Just… just run, okay?” That was when I noticed every door in the house was wide open. My parents’ room looked like it had been ransacked. Chloe’s room was completely empty. Even the two pet turtles on the balcony were gone. A loud buzz echoed in my head, and my face turned paper-white. A terrifying thought crept into my mind. No, it couldn’t be… My parents wouldn’t just abandon me. “Mom, Dad, the water is so high. Where are you? I’m scared, please come save me…” My small, frail body curled up into the corner of the sofa. I clutched my stuffed rabbit, my voice shaking violently. My mother remained silent. Instead, Chloe’s cheerful voice drifted through the receiver. “Mom, Dad, look! The highway gates are open! We can get through!” At that moment, my entire world collapsed. The disaster was here, and my parents had fled with my cousin. They had packed up every single piece of luggage, not forgetting Chloe’s pet turtles, yet they had somehow forgotten me. Then, my father’s angry, defensive voice boomed through the phone. “Why are you even asking? You slept like a dead pig! Who could have woken you up?” I sobbed even harder. I had been running a high fever for two days before my mother even noticed. She had called my school to get me sick leave, and after giving me some heavy medication, I had fallen into a deep, drug-induced sleep. My mother sounded annoyed now. “Stop crying! There’s still some time before the worst of the flood hits. Go downstairs right now and find some other neighbors who are evacuating. Your father and I will come back for you with Chloe later.” Suddenly, the phone let out a sharp, static screech. The power went out. The water kept rising. Crying, I struggled to run upstairs. We lived in an old three-story apartment complex. Halfway up, I remembered the inflatable swim ring Chloe used for her swimming lessons. I waded back through the dirty water, sobbing, to grab it. The water rose higher and higher until it completely swallowed the third floor. With one arm looped through the swim ring, I clung desperately to a floating wooden door. I drifted in the dark for what felt like eternity. My body grew colder and colder, until my consciousness faded into black.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a cot in a makeshift emergency shelter hospital. In my hazy state, I felt someone feeding me medicine and gently wiping my face. A sharp sting in my hand made me let out a weak whimper, and I slowly opened my eyes. A woman in a white nurse’s uniform looked down at me with a gentle smile. “You’re awake, sweetie. Don’t move, the IV will help you feel better soon. Why were you all alone in the water? Where is your family?” I looked down, my tears dripping onto the white sheets. I just cried and didn’t say a word. The nurse looked startled, and out of pity and guilt for bringing up a painful topic, she quickly changed the subject. “Are you hungry? Do you want some chicken tenders? I’ll get you some.” I looked at her and nodded timidly. Because of the prolonged high fever, my throat was severely damaged. Whenever anyone asked about my family, I simply shook my head. They assumed I was an orphan. Everyone in the shelter looked at me with pity, whispering about sending me to a foster home. But I gripped the nurse’s uniform tightly. Wherever she went, I followed. I was terrified of being abandoned again. Her heart melted. Unable to leave me, she took me home. When she opened her door, a little boy gasped in excitement. “Mom! Dad! Did you really bring me a big sister?!” He circled me, looking at me with pure curiosity. I stood there, awkwardly pinching the hem of my shirt. Helen, the nurse, laughed softly. “Peter has been begging for a sister every single day.” Helen’s husband, Arthur, worked for the local government. He was a kind, gentle man. After looking at me, he and Helen exchanged a long glance and went into the bedroom to talk for a long time. Later, Helen knelt in front of me, her voice incredibly sweet. “Would you like to stay with us, sweetie? Can I be your mom?” I looked at her, overwhelmed. My vision blurred as warm tears spilled over my hands. “Mom…” I whispered. Helen gasped in pure joy. “Oh my god, you can talk!” Later, they went through the legal adoption process. Arthur changed my last name to Miller, and they named me Brooke—because Helen said she had rescued me from the water.

Three years later, it was the start of the school year in September. Peter was entering the first grade, and I was in the fifth. I confidently led my parents through the crowded hallways to find Peter’s new classroom. “Mom, Dad, that’s Mrs. Davis! She was my English teacher, and now she’s going to be Peter’s homeroom teacher.” Just as I was about to walk over to greet Mrs. Davis, a shockingly familiar voice rang out. “Lynn? Is that you, Lynn?!” The next second, a woman grabbed my arm with brute force. It was my biological mother, Sarah. Behind her stood Chloe. Right, Chloe would be starting first grade this year too. Sarah stared at me in shock and frantic joy. Once she recognized my face, a heartbreaking sob escaped her throat. “Lynn… my baby girl! I thought you were dead! Why didn’t you come find us? Where have you been?!” She held me in a suffocating grip, crying hysterically. “Lynn, I missed you so much! Why aren’t you calling me Mom?” I looked at her with utter confusion. “Ma’am, I think you have the wrong person.” Under her stunned gaze, I pulled my arm free, ran over to Helen and Arthur, and hid behind them, pretending to be terrified. Sarah looked heartbroken. “How can you not recognize your own mother? Lynn, look at me! I’m your mom! We got separated in the flood three years ago!” I furrowed my brows, looking at her with cold, distant eyes. “You really have the wrong person, ma’am. My parents are right here.” Sarah froze. She stared at our family of four, shaking her head in agony. No… She couldn’t understand how her perfect daughter had suddenly become someone else’s child. And why was I calling another woman “Mom”? The surrounding parents and students were startled by her hysterical behavior. Helen and Arthur exchanged a look, instantly realizing who this woman was. Helen looked down at me. I gave her a tiny, subtle shake of my head. Although Helen didn’t understand why I was denying them, she immediately stepped in front of me to shield me. “Excuse me, ma’am, but you have indeed mistaken her. This is my daughter, Brooke Miller. She is not the Lynn you are looking for.” Just then, my biological father, Mark, arrived and overheard the exchange. The hope in his eyes instantly died, and he muttered in a daze, “Brooke? But she looks exactly like Lynn…” Mrs. Davis stepped in to defuse the situation. “Chloe’s mom, you must be mistaken. Brooke has been my student for a while now.” Seeing everyone staring, Chloe felt embarrassed and tugged at Sarah’s sleeve. “Mom, stop it! Get up from the floor!” Everyone assumed it was just a tragic mistake—a grieving mother who had lost a child and was seeing things. Some even offered words of comfort. But just as I let out a sigh of relief, Sarah suddenly lunged forward. She grabbed my shirt and tried to pull it up. “Lynn has a red birthmark on her stomach! Let me see!” I screamed in terror. Helen and Arthur immediately shoved her away. “Are you insane?! Trying to strip a little girl in public! If you don’t back off, we are calling the police!” Arthur roared. The hallway fell into absolute chaos. Until Sarah screamed at the top of her lungs, “I saw it! She has the birthmark! She is Lynn!” At that moment, my heart sank to the bottom of my chest. She had seen it.

An hour later, both families were gathered at the local police station. In front of the officers, Mark and Sarah were furious, pointing at Helen and Arthur and screaming. “They are kidnappers! Monsters!” “They abducted our daughter and changed her identity! They deserve to rot in prison!” Helen and Arthur looked pale, but out of respect for me, they kept their composure and didn’t argue back. I watched my biological parents throw their tantrum. My face was completely blank. I felt absolutely nothing for them. Officer Carter slammed his hand on the desk. “Enough! This is a police station, not a circus! Keep quiet or I’ll have you thrown in a holding cell!” They finally shut their mouths, though they kept glaring at us. Officer Carter turned to me, his voice softening. “Sweetheart, who are your real parents?” Under the desperate, hopeful stares of Mark and Sarah, I clung tightly to Helen’s arm. “I don’t know them.” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “Lynn, think about it. I’m your mommy.” Mark barked at the officer, “Officer Carter, she must have suffered some severe trauma! She lost her memory! You need to investigate these two kidnappers!” Arthur frowned. “Listen, I understand the pain of losing a child. But please calm down and stop terrifying my daughter. You claim Brooke is the child you lost. Tell me, how exactly did you lose her?” Mark and Sarah suddenly froze. Sarah’s eyes darted around guiltily, and Mark began to stammer. “We… we got separated during the evacuation of the flood.” A cold, mocking smile crept onto my lips. “How clumsy of you.” Sarah’s face went pale. To cover her guilt, she wailed dramatically. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t understand how evil people can be! If it weren’t for these sick kidnappers, you would have never been lost! They must have drugged you to make you forget us! Aren’t you afraid of God’s wrath, you monsters?!” Sarah cried as if she were the star of a tragic movie about a mother searching for her lost child. Yet, she didn’t mention a single word about leaving me behind in the rising flood. Mark pointed a finger threateningly at Helen and Arthur. “You child thieves! I bet that boy of yours was bought on the black market too! Officer Carter, these kidnappers need to be locked away forever!” Arthur’s face turned red with anger, and Helen shook with rage. “Watch your mouth in front of the kids!” I stepped in front of my adoptive parents. “Whatever garbage comes out of your mouth just bounces off us and sticks back onto you.” Mark and Sarah’s faces twisted in shock, unable to believe I had spoken to them that way. Officer Carter rubbed his temples. “Look, is this child biologically yours? If you have her birth certificate, show it to us. Otherwise, we’ll have to do a DNA test.” Helen and Arthur exchanged a worried look. Just as they were about to speak, I cut them off. “Why should I have to take a DNA test with strangers? If they want to prove something, they should be the ones bringing the evidence. Don’t I know who my own parents are?” I didn’t want to go back to them. Not even a little bit. Officer Carter blinked, surprised by my sharp logic. “She has a point. Do you have any proof?”

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