1 The first time Damian cheated, he brought his mistress to me, eyes red, and said her fate was in my hands. Blindly in love, I forgave his “mistake.” The second time, I had the woman sent abroad with orders never to return. On our engagement night, Damian gripped my throat, a dagger pressed to my stomach. His eyes were wild. “Where’s Lily? She’s pregnant.” “It’s my fault,” he rasped. “I lost control. Punish me, but Lily’s innocent. Let the baby be born safely. I swear I’ll leave her after that.” He whispered desperately, “You’ve always feared childbirth. What if we just have this one baby? Lily’s child. It will know only you as its mother. I vow.” The blade broke my skin, blood soaking my dress. I smiled and told him where to find Lily. The door slammed. Trembling, I dialed a familiar number. “You were right,” I said, shaking. “Help me one more time.” … On the other end of the line, the man cursed under his breath, his tone laced with exasperation. “You couldn’t have called earlier? I’m already on a flight out of the country. What am I supposed to do for you from here?” “Vivian, seriously,” he went on, “you’re one of the smartest women I know. How could you fall for the same man’s act twice? Did you trade all your emotional intelligence for your business sense?” Pressing a hand against the stinging wound on my abdomen, I felt a wave of bitterness wash over me. “I’m sorry. I owe you for this one. Thirty percent off our next joint venture. Is that enough?” There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by a sudden jolt of interest. “Send me the time and location. I’ll be there.” A beat of silence, then, “And remember me next time you have a business proposition like this. My rates are very reasonable.” I sent the complete wedding plans over to Cole. A single “OK” emoji was his immediate reply. The penthouse we had prepared for our life together had been completely trashed by Damian, a perfect mirror of my own shattered heart. After tending to my wound alone, I stumbled out of the building. I had just checked into a hotel when Damian’s call came through. The roar of a jet engine was loud in the background, but I could still hear the fury simmering beneath his words. “Vivian, I’m on a plane now. I can’t be with you tonight. Get some rest. I’m sorry… I was emotional earlier. I never meant to hurt you.” He paused. “Is it bad? I can have my private doctor come see you—” “Don’t bother,” I cut him off, my voice like ice. His tone hardened instantly. “Vivian, I told you, what happened with Lily was an accident. I was drugged, I thought she was you. It’s done now, and I have to find her. Am I supposed to let a Blackwood heir be born in some foreign country?” “You forgave me once before,” he pressed on. “Why are you making such a scene this time? The wedding is in a week. You need to calm down.” Staring at my chat history with Cole, I spoke with chilling finality. “There’s no need. I’m not marrying you.” “Damian, I told you before. I don’t tolerate filth in my life.” I was about to hang up when he exploded. “Not marrying me? Is this a joke? The engagement party is over! The whole world knows the Sterlings and the Blackwoods are merging. You’re telling me this now? Are you using our families’ alliance to threaten me?” “Vivian, we grew up together! You know me better than anyone. I would never have betrayed you if I hadn’t been set up!” His voice was pleading now. “They say ‘third time’s the charm,’ not the second. I’ve only made two mistakes. I swear, after the baby is born, you will never see Lily again. Is that still not enough for you?” A tear traced a path down my cheek, but my smile was bitter. “And what then? You want me to look at the child you had with another woman every single day? A living, breathing reminder of your betrayal?” “I can’t do it, Damian. I’m sorry.” A roar of pure rage answered me. “Fine! Remember what you said. And don’t you dare come crawling back to me!” he snarled. “What man in our circle doesn’t have a mistress? I gave Lily to you, let you decide her fate. I’ve done everything I can. If you can accept it, we get married. If you can’t, then get the hell out of my life. I don’t care anymore.” The line went dead. My reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window was a pathetic, broken figure. Suite 13520. It used to be his favorite place for our dates. He said it was filled with the memories of our love. Valentine’s Day, birthdays, anniversaries… this room had been ours. Now, I was the only one who remembered. Damian must have called my parents, because my phone rang again almost immediately. “Vivian, what’s going on?” my mother’s anxious voice filled the line. “Damian just told us you’re calling off the wedding!” “This isn’t a game, honey,” my father added. “You can’t be serious.” I burrowed deeper into the hotel bed, my voice thick with unshed tears. “His mistress is pregnant.” “Every man makes mistakes,” my father started, “just get rid of it—” “I’m not calling it off,” I interrupted. “I’m just marrying someone else. You know him. Cole Vance.” My father’s advice died in his throat. My mother gasped. “Cole? But you two are mortal enemies! Have you forgotten he nearly set your hair on fire when you were kids?” I managed a small laugh, trying to sound carefree. “That’s why I want to marry him. So I can torture him for the rest of his life.” I tossed and turned all night, the pain in my abdomen a constant, throbbing reminder. The next morning, I contacted a realtor to sell the penthouse. When I went back to pack my things, I saw Damian’s private jet still parked on the sprawling lawn. I pushed open the door, and my breath caught in my throat. The main wall was covered in dozens of framed photos, a shrine to a happy couple. But the woman in the pictures wasn’t me. It was Lily. The glaciers of Iceland, the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the scorched remains of Notre Dame. All the places he and I had been, he had taken her, too. He always claimed he hated having his picture taken. A man in his position, he’d said, could never be too careful. No matter how much I begged, we never had a single photo together. But for Lily, he had made an exception. The two of them were standing in front of the photo wall now. Lily was stroking her still-flat stomach, a coquettish smile on her face. “Damian, when the baby is born, can we bring him to all these places? He’ll love them, I just know it. Feel, he’s kicking me already!” The sound of the door opening made them turn. When Lily saw me, she immediately dropped to her knees, clutching at my waist. “Vivian, I’m so sorry! It was my fault for not staying away like I promised. Please, don’t be angry with me!” she sobbed. “I just love Damian so much… I swear, I’ll disappear the moment the baby is born. I won’t be a problem…” Before I could speak, Damian let out a cold laugh. “You don’t need to apologize to her. You were a victim in this, too. If anyone owes you, it’s me.” He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “Vivian, I’ve already found out who was behind the setup. Their company will be bankrupt within the month. Lily is innocent. You shouldn’t be blaming her. I’m willing to overlook what you did this time. Just apologize, and we can put this behind us.” I stared back at him, my gaze devoid of any warmth. It was laughable. “I should apologize? Damian, have you lost your mind?” The hands at my waist suddenly tightened, fingers digging directly into my fresh wound. A sharp, searing pain shot through me, and I broke out in a cold sweat. I shoved her away. I hadn’t used much force, but Lily went flying, crashing into a nearby cabinet. “What the hell are you doing?” Damian roared. He lunged at me, shoving me so hard my forehead slammed against the doorframe. Blood bloomed instantly. “I think you’re the one who’s lost her mind!” he bellowed. “Lily has humbled herself before you, I’ve explained everything. What more do you want? Apologize, or you’ll see what happens!” I bit back the wave of humiliation and grief, my voice a low, deliberate snarl. “Never.” “Apologize to your mistress? Damian, you must be dreaming.” “You stubborn fool!” His eyes were blazing. He scooped Lily up and carried her into the master bedroom. When he came out, he summoned the entire household staff. “Where are the chains?” he commanded. “Bring them.” “The madam has lost her mind,” he announced, his voice ringing with cold authority. “Have her kneel on the grounds until she comes to her senses. No one is to let her up without my direct order.” My vision went red. “Damian, you’re insane!” I shrieked. “She’s nothing but a home-wrecker! How dare you do this to me? This is my house!” “But I am the man of it,” he replied, his voice chillingly calm. He didn’t spare me another glance. The staff dragged me outside, a long, dark smear of blood trailing behind me on the pristine marble floor. The moment the heavy doors shut, a crack of thunder split the clear sky. A torrential downpour began, drenching me in seconds. I knelt in the mud, the wounds on my forehead and stomach beginning to burn with fever. My consciousness started to fade. I looked at the staff member assigned to watch me, my voice barely a whisper. “Let me go… Please, go get Damian… I’m begging you…” He glanced at me from under the shelter of the eaves, a smirk on his face. “Save it. I’ve seen your little ‘damsel in distress’ act a thousand times. Mr. Blackwood just called his private doctor. He’s a bit busy tending to Miss Lily right now.” I forced my eyes open, looking up at the second-floor balcony. I could just make out two figures in the dim light. Then, the world went black. As I slipped into unconsciousness, I heard a frantic shout. “Sir! Miss Sterling has collapsed! There’s blood everywhere, we need the doctor!” Familiar footsteps approached. An umbrella appeared over my head. Damian’s voice was as cold as the rain. “Are you done with your performance? Anyone would think you were the one who’s pregnant.” He sighed, a sound of pure frustration. “Vivian, that temper of yours needs to be broken. I’m doing this for your own good.” The footsteps retreated. I could see him now, holding Lily in his arms under the awning. Lily buried her face in his chest, her voice trembling. “Damian, I don’t think she’s faking. Are we being too cruel? She is your fiancée, after all. What if the Sterlings find out…?” Damian’s face hardened. “After everything I’ve built, you think I’m afraid of the Sterlings? She started this with her unreasonable behavior. You have eight months until you’re due. I can’t have her bullying you the entire time. Her attitude needs to change.” A flicker of triumph flashed in Lily’s eyes before she quickly masked it with a look of innocent concern. “I’ve heard there’s no love in arranged marriages between powerful families. Is it… is it like that with you and Vivian?” The rain lashed down, washing over my pale face again and again. For a moment, I thought my heart had stopped. Then, Damian’s voice, devoid of all emotion, drifted through the storm. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Being born a Blackwood, this alliance was my duty. I didn’t have a choice. Vivian is beautiful, she’s uncomplicated. Compared to the other arrogant heiresses, she was the best option.” Tears I didn’t know I had left to cry slipped from the corners of my eyes and were lost in the mud. Damian’s gaze softened as he looked down at Lily, and for the first time, I saw real emotion in his eyes. “I thought that was all my life would ever be. But then you appeared. You were a gift from fate.” “Thank you, Lily.” His words were daggers, each one piercing my heart. I couldn’t tell what hurt more, my body or my soul. The memories of our childhood together, the years I thought were filled with innocent love and deep connection, were all a lie. How pathetic. For twenty years, my only dream was to be his wife. To stand by his side as he built his empire. The boy who had once woven me a crown of willow branches under a summer sky was gone, lost forever in a haze of poisoned memories. Something inside me snapped. A fresh wave of blood gushed from the wound in my abdomen. Damian finally seemed to notice something was wrong. He barked at the staff, “What are you waiting for? Go check on her! If anything happens to her, you’re all fired!” Through the fog of unconsciousness, I felt someone shaking me. Then, I was lifted into a warm embrace. The familiar scent of pinewood and leather almost made me believe we were back in a time when it was just the two of us. But when I opened my eyes, I was in a guest room. Damian was sitting by the bed, his face a mask of cold fury. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” he demanded. “Are you that stubborn, Vivian? When are you going to change?” I ignored him, my eyes scanning the room. It was small, cluttered, and shabbier than the servants’ quarters. It was painfully obvious who was now occupying my master suite. A cold smile touched my lips. I didn’t look at him. “My temper is none of your business. The person you should be worried about right now is Lily.” I pushed myself up and tore away the gauze dressing on my stomach. “And let me remind you of something. I bought this penthouse. I suggest you have your mistress move out. Immediately.” My indifference finally broke him. He shot to his feet, his voice shaking with rage. “Enough! Why can’t you be more tolerant? I moved Lily in so you two could support each other, not so you could throw these childish tantrums!” He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “Fine. You have eight months until the baby is born. Use that time to calm down. I won’t have the mother of my child be a lunatic.” With that, he stormed out. I threw back the covers. The cuts on my knees had been treated by a doctor. I couldn’t help but laugh. He was the cause of all my pain, and now he was playing the part of the concerned caregiver? The sound of laughter drifted up from downstairs. I took out my phone and lowered the asking price for the penthouse again. I couldn’t stand to be in this place for another second. That evening, the staff prepared a lavish dinner. Almost every dish was seafood, something Damian was severely allergic to. I stood on the second-floor landing, watching, and remembered all the times he had refused to compromise for me in restaurants. The difference between love and tolerance was so painfully clear. I went back to what was once my bedroom. My belongings had been thrown out, which saved me the trouble of packing. I called a car, and was about to leave when Lily appeared in the doorway, holding a tray of food. She smiled sweetly. “Vivian? Here to see your old room? I’m so sorry, Damian said the pregnant lady gets top priority. This is my room now.” She looked around. “If you’re looking for any of your old junk, you might want to check the dumpster. There’s none of it in here.” The “junk” she was referring to were gifts from Damian. A cold smile twisted my lips. “Lily, the things you treasure might not be treasures to me. You can have the penthouse. You can have the man. But remember this: the way you get something is the way you’ll lose it. You’re not his first, and you certainly won’t be his last.” Her face hardened. She smashed the plate on the floor. “Don’t you dare act so high and mighty! You’re just used goods. All you have left is your sharp tongue.” She sneered. “You don’t have to ‘let’ me have him. Damian would choose me anyway. You’ll see.” Suddenly, she let out a blood-curdling scream, tearing at her own hair. She ran to the balcony and threw herself over the railing. She clung on with one hand, the cold night wind whipping around her as she sobbed hysterically. “Vivian, why are you doing this to me?!” Before I could even process what was happening, Damian kicked the door in. He rushed to the balcony, pulled her to safety, and held her tight. He turned to face me, his eyes burning with a furious hatred, and slapped me hard across the face. “When will you stop, Vivian?” Lily buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching her stomach. “Vivian,” she whispered weakly, “I already apologized. Why can’t you just let me go? The baby is innocent. I’m willing to die to make it up to you after he’s born, just please, spare the Blackwood heir…” I frowned, about to speak, but Damian cut me off. “Vivian, kneel.” I stared at him in disbelief. “You think I did this?” He settled Lily on the bed and advanced on me, his eyes full of menace. “Shouldn’t I? First, you tried to get rid of her. Then you pushed her. This is the third time! Vivian, what reason have you given me to trust you?” In that moment, whatever love I had left for him vanished. He didn’t give me a chance to explain. He scooped Lily up and hurried out of the penthouse. I took down the photos from the wall, one by one, and burned them to ash. At midnight, I got a text from the realtor. “Miss Sterling, we have a buyer willing to pay your original asking price. No discount needed. When are you free to sign the papers?” “Tomorrow,” I replied. I fired the entire staff. A full week passed, and I didn’t hear a word from Damian. The tabloids were full of paparazzi shots of him at the hospital—in line at the OB-GYN clinic, picking up prescriptions for Lily. On the morning of our wedding day, Damian pulled up to the penthouse in the wedding car to pick me up. He opened the door and came face-to-face with a complete stranger. He frowned. “Where’s Vivian? Who are you?” His assistant rushed up behind him, out of breath. “Mr. Blackwood, sir, there’s been a mistake! Miss Sterling sold the penthouse! She’s marrying into the Vance family today!”

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1 Ten years of marriage, and my husband Tedd never let me enter the Vance family estate. Each time I asked to meet his parents, he’d gently squeeze my shoulders and soothe, “Just a little longer, Ava. You’re not established enough. I don’t want them to be hard on you.” Today felt different. I’d just closed a billion-dollar deal for our company. Finally confident, I stood before his iron gates. But a nine-year-old boy opened the door. He scanned me with disdain. “Who are you? Dressed like trash—what do you want with my dad?” My throat closed. Before I could speak, a maid warmly guided me inside. There, on the living room table, stood a framed marriage certificate—with Tedd and his assistant Evelyn. The maid beamed. “See? Our young master and mistress have been married ten years! Their son is already big. The mistress just landed that huge deal. The old master’s so thrilled, he’s throwing her a celebration tonight!” I watched the boy—Tedd’s perfect copy—leap into his father’s arms. Evelyn leaned against them lovingly. My mind went blank. All that talk of me not being “established” was a lie. Ten years of marriage, my hard-won victories—they were just stepping stones for him and another woman. … In a corner of the living room, Tedd’s arm was wrapped possessively around Evelyn’s waist. He gave her a playful squeeze, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “You spoil him rotten. He’s nine years old and still clinging to his father like a toddler. It’s not a good look.” He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that still carried across the room to where I stood, frozen. “Besides, your arms… they’re meant for me to crawl into at night.” A deep blush crept up Evelyn’s neck. She gave him a soft, theatrical shove. “Ten years, and you still haven’t had enough of me?” Lust thickened Tedd’s gaze as his thumb traced lazy circles on her hip. “A vision like you? How could any man ever have enough?” My fists clenched, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they should have drawn blood, but I felt nothing. They flirted as if I wasn’t even there, a ghost in their perfect home. The irony was suffocating; I was a ghost. After a decade of marriage, I didn’t even have the right to enter this house, while they had built their nest here, complete with a child. Tedd, not yet satisfied, purred, “Send the boy off with the nanny. Let’s head upstairs for some… business.” It was then that his eyes finally drifted across the room and landed on me. The color drained from his face, leaving behind a pasty, white mask. He froze, his lips trembling as he stammered, “Ava… wh-what are you doing here?” The air crackled and died. Evelyn followed his gaze, her brow furrowing. “Who is this?” Tedd scrambled to untangle himself from her, clearing his throat and composing himself with a pathetic flicker of his former confidence. “Honey, this is Ava Sterling, one of the sales reps from the office. You probably don’t recognize her; she’s always on the road for work.” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. Ten years. Ten years of building an empire with him from nothing, and I was just a sales rep. Evelyn ignored him, her gaze sweeping over me with cold appraisal. Her eyes finally snagged on the delicate silver bracelet on my wrist, and her expression curdled into pure contempt. “A lowly sales rep can afford a piece like that? And why does it look so much like the one I threw in the trash last month?” A wave of humiliation so powerful it stole the air from my lungs washed over me. Tedd rushed to explain. “Darling, you know how some people are. When they can’t afford nice things, they’ll happily pick up other people’s scraps. You tossed it in the office bin; she must have seen it and fished it out.” With a single sentence, he absolved himself, painting me as a pathetic scavenger. He was now shooting me frantic, desperate glances, silently begging me to play along. But this bracelet… this was the gift he’d given me after I’d closed a major deal. He’d fastened it around my wrist himself, right there in his office, his eyes full of what I had mistaken for love. He’d told me it was part of a matching set, that he had the other, and that I should never take it off. I’d sworn to myself that day that I would land the billion-dollar deal, that I would finally earn his parents’ approval and bring our marriage into the light. It never even occurred to me that I had never, not once, seen him wear the matching piece. Only now did I understand. The treasure I had cherished was someone else’s garbage. The real reason I’d never met his family was because he already had one. I took a deep breath, fighting down the storm of rage and betrayal churning inside me. I managed a cold smile. “You’re right. I wasn’t aware of the situation when I… found it. Allow me to return it to its rightful owner.” I unclasped the bracelet and threw it hard onto the marble floor. The sharp crack of splintering silver echoed through the silent room. Tedd lunged, his face contorted in fury. The crack of his hand across my cheek was even louder. “How dare you break my wife’s things! Ava, you’ve gone too far!” Five angry red fingerprints bloomed on my skin. I touched my stinging cheek, staring at the man I had once loved with everything I had. He was a stranger. “My apologies,” I whispered, turning to leave. “Wait.” Evelyn’s voice cut through the air, laced with the smug charity of a queen addressing a peasant. “Don’t be in such a hurry. Since you’re already here, why don’t you stay?” She smirked, her eyes glinting with malice. “My father-in-law is throwing this party to celebrate my success with the billion-dollar deal. You’re a company employee, after all. You should join the festivities, shouldn’t you?” She dragged out the words “billion-dollar deal,” a clear, deliberate jab. Tedd’s face paled, but a sharp look from Evelyn silenced him. She gestured expansively. “My husband had this entire estate renovated just for me, you know. Every last detail chosen to my taste. Pick any room you like. Don’t be shy. Make yourself at home.” “I don’t want her here!” the little boy shrieked, running to tug on Evelyn’s designer dress. “Mommy! I don’t want the beggar staying in our house! She’s dirty! She’ll make everything stink!” He pointed a chubby finger at me. “Look how dark her skin is, and her clothes are all raggedy! She must have crawled out of a garbage can! Make her leave!” A triumphant smile played on Evelyn’s lips. I looked at her, so pampered and pristine, then down at my own hands, calloused and rough from years of fieldwork, my skin tanned from endless business trips. For Tedd, for those damn deals, I had run myself into the ground. I’d worked so hard I’d given myself an ulcer. And this humiliating spectacle was my reward. 2 I laughed, a dry, self-mocking sound. A quick check on my phone confirmed it: all the trains back to the city were sold out. I was trapped here for the night. I had barely set my luggage down in the guest room when my phone rang. It was Tedd. “I told you not to come to the estate, Ava. Did you show up unannounced just to embarrass me? Let me make one thing clear: this disgusting stunt of yours has made me furious. And there will be consequences. Don’t expect my forgiveness anytime soon.” Listening to him, my fingers tightened around the phone. For ten years, every argument had been the same. He would be the one in the wrong, yet he would always adopt that condescending, superior tone, waiting for me to come crawling back, begging for his forgiveness. And like a pathetic fool, I always did, swallowing my pride just to make him happy. This time, I finally worked up the courage to ask the question that burned in my throat. “How could you be legally married to two women at the same time?” But before the words could leave my mouth, the line went dead. I tried calling back. Blocked. It seemed in his eyes, I didn’t even have the right to question him. My heart felt like a hollow cavity in my chest, too numb even for pain. As I stood staring blankly out the window, the door was violently kicked open. Evelyn strode in, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face. Slap! A stack of glossy photographs hit my face, their sharp edges slicing a thin cut across my cheek. “So, you’re the little homewrecker. Did you really think I didn’t know you existed?” I balled my fists, my voice a raw whisper. “Tedd and I are legally married! We have a certificate!” “A certificate?” Evelyn burst out laughing, a shrill, ugly sound. She pulled a document from her purse. “Your marriage certificate with Tedd is a forgery. The entire thing was a scam, from start to finish.” She smoothed her skirt, her voice dripping with condescending pity. “He only let you stick around for so long because you were useful. Obedient. A loyal little dog who worked for peanuts, right? He even told me himself, he only played along because you were so pathetically cheap. You barely took a salary and even spent your own money buying him gifts.” She paused for effect. “Oh, and by the way? Every proposal you stayed up all night to write, every contract you signed while destroying your own health… it was all credited to my name.” She then fanned the photos out in front of my face. “You’re quite the exhibitionist, aren’t you? Tedd showed these to me himself. Tsk, tsk. When a woman has nothing else to offer, I suppose this is the only way to keep a man’s interest. How pathetic.” There I was. On my knees, wearing cat ears he’d cajoled me into putting on. And there were others, far more humiliating. He had called it foreplay, a fun little game between lovers. I had debased myself to please him, and he had turned my humiliation into a spectacle for his real wife. Evelyn drove her heel into my chest, sending me staggering backward. “These photos have been making the rounds on the company’s internal forums for ages,” she sneered. “Do you know what everyone calls you behind your back? The ugly toad trying to play kitten. Hahahahaha!” I collapsed to the floor, the searing pain in my chest nothing compared to the suffocating rage and shame that consumed me. I had known Tedd first. She was the one who came later. But somehow, in their twisted reality, I was the one branded the homewrecker, the one deserving of this torment. I couldn’t stay in this hellhole a second longer. “From this day forward,” I choked out, “you will never see me again.” 3 I dragged my suitcase out of the room, but as I rounded the corner in the hallway, Tedd’s hand clamped down on my wrist. “Where do you think you’re going at this hour?” His handsome face was a mask of displeasure. “You think you can just come and go as you please? What do you take the Vance estate for, a hotel?” The sheer, unadulterated audacity of it was breathtaking. I had just closed a deal that would change his company’s fortunes forever, and I had rushed here, hoping for a crumb of acceptance from his family, only to find his perfect, secret life. “Mr. Vance,” I said, yanking my arm free with a cold laugh. “Isn’t it a little late to pretend you care?” His brow furrowed. “Ava, what is this attitude? Who gave you the nerve to speak to me like that?” Before I could leave, the sound of frantic footsteps echoed down the hall. Tedd’s son, wielding a baseball bat, charged at me and swung it with all his might against my shin. “Ah!” A blinding flash of pain shot up my leg, and I lost my balance, stumbling forward. But to my utter shock, the boy immediately threw himself backward, landing on his bottom and letting out a theatrical wail. “Waaaah! The beggar hit me! The beggar is hitting me!” My eyes widened in disbelief. Before I could process the blatant lie, Evelyn was there, scooping the child into her arms and rounding on me with a roar. “You homewrecking bitch! It’s bad enough you invade my home, but now you dare to lay a hand on my son? Take a good look at yourself in a mirror! If there is so much as a scratch on him, I will make you pay, you worthless piece of trash!” Servants flocked around us, their whispers like a swarm of angry bees. “Shameless. A homewrecker with this much nerve.” “The mistress is too kind. If it were me, I’d have stripped her naked and thrown her in a dumpster.” “Exactly! A low-life like her, daring to cause trouble at the Vance estate. Does she not know what Vance Industries is worth now? Without our mistress, this company would be nothing!” I clutched the wall, trying to stand as agony pulsed from my leg. But what hurt more was Tedd’s reaction. He didn’t even glance at me. He knelt, fussing over his son, checking him for imaginary injuries. Once satisfied the boy was unharmed, Tedd shot up, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back. His voice was laced with a venom I had never heard before. “Apologize to my son. Now.” The pain was searing, as if my scalp was being torn from my skull, but I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t touch him. Why should I apologize?” My vision blurred with tears of rage. “Tedd,” I pleaded, my voice cracking, “we’ve known each other for fifteen years. We were together for ten. Even if you wanted to marry your assistant and have a child, why couldn’t you just tell me? Did you think I would cling to you? I may not have much, Ava Sterling, but I have my pride! I would never stand in the way of your happiness. But why did you have to humiliate me like this? A fake marriage certificate? Turning me into a laughingstock for the entire company?” A flicker of something—guilt? uncertainty?—crossed his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, hard mask. He released my hair, and I slumped against the wall. He looked down at me, his voice dripping with condescension. “Ava, I thought you were a smart woman. It seems I overestimated you.” He motioned to the maids, who seized my shoulders and forced me to my knees. “This is your punishment for showing up here uninvited. You will accept it.” He then turned to his wife. “Darling, go on. Hit her until you feel better. Hit her until our son is happy again.” The boy’s face lit up. He scrambled to the coffee table, grabbed a heavy crystal ashtray, and hurled it at my head. The sharp edge of the crystal sliced open my forehead. Warm blood instantly began to stream down my face. Evelyn, suddenly, adopted a look of feigned horror, a stark contrast to the vicious woman who had kicked me just moments before. “Tedd, darling, maybe this is too much. Let’s just stop.” Tedd sneered and grabbed her wrist. “What are you afraid of? I said hit her, so you hit her!” He guided her hand, forcing her to slap me, again and again. At first, Evelyn pretended to resist, but soon she was adding her own strength to the blows, her rings scratching my face, leaving behind bloody trails. When they were finally done, I was a heap on the floor, my vision swimming in and out of focus. Evelyn, a smug, triumphant smirk on her face, said sweetly, “Honey, we should lock her in the cellar for now. The heiress from Sterling Enterprises is supposed to be at the party soon. It wouldn’t do for her to see… this.” Tedd glanced at my bloody form and grunted in disgust. “I told you this morning to reflect on your actions, but you wouldn’t listen. You brought this on yourself. Ava, you’re going to the cellar to cool off. When you’ve learned how to be obedient and behave, then you can come out.”

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My brother died in a fire saving my three best friends. After that, they started taking care of me, rotating the duty of being my boyfriend. But it didn’t take long for them to grow sick of it. Robby was the first to crack. “I can’t stand her goddamn attitude anymore,” he’d snapped. “Can we just ship her off to a psychiatric hospital?” Sean, ever the diplomat, sighed. “Just hang in there a little longer. Once we graduate, we’ll find some guy to marry her off to, and then we’ll finally be free.” And Ian, my current boyfriend, said coldly, “My time is up. Help me figure out a way to make her break up with me.” So much for childhood friendship. So much for the life debt they owed my brother. In the end, I was nothing but a burden. Fine, I thought. I’ll give you exactly what you want. 1 My birthday party was just like every year before. Ian and the others had planned the whole thing. This time, they promised me a surprise. I was actually looking forward to it. But when the day arrived, the mansion’s grand hall was filled with a raucous, screaming crowd of strangers. I sat on the sofa by the French windows, watching them from a distance, my face a mask of cold disgust. Robby sauntered over, a glass of milk in one hand, the other stuffed casually in his pocket. His hair was slicked back with wax, revealing a sharp, handsome brow and piercing eyes. A few artfully messy strands fell forward, and his smile was anything but innocent. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, his shirt open just enough to reveal the chiseled lines of his chest with every slight movement. He was pure playboy, oozing a casual charm that I’d always despised. It was the kind of sloppiness I couldn’t stand. But we’d broken up a long time ago. It wasn’t my place to control him. And now, I no longer wanted to. I took the warm milk he offered, listening to him drone on about how I shouldn’t be such a recluse, how I needed to make more friends—all the usual bullshit. For the first time, I didn’t argue. I didn’t get angry. A flicker of surprise crossed Robby’s face. He leaned in, his voice hesitant. “…What’s wrong? Who pissed off our little princess this time?” I cradled the glass, my gaze drifting across the room. It landed on our young housekeeper, who was blushing furiously as she spoke to my boyfriend, Ian. Still, I remained calm. I said nothing. “Nothing,” I told Robby, my voice flat. “You’re right.” His expression turned strange. He couldn’t tell if I was being genuine or if this was the dangerous calm before a hurricane. Suddenly, I pointed. “Who’s that?” Robby followed my gaze and immediately spotted the man who stood out from the crowd. He was tall and slender, dressed in casual clothes, yet he carried himself with an effortless grace that spoke of old money and quiet confidence. He didn’t look like one of the university classmates Robby and the others would have invited. “Oh, him?” Robby said. “He’s a new lecturer in our department. Pretty young. I think he’s also the school’s new guidance counselor.” Robby stroked his chin, a sneer playing on his lips. He mentioned that the man’s classes were wildly popular with the female students, and his counseling sessions were always fully booked. He muttered something about not knowing if the guy was there to teach or to flirt. In short, a player. The more he tried to put the man down, the more interested I became. I cut him off. “What’s his name?” Robby froze. He looked from the man back to me, his brow slowly furrowing. He tried for a casual smile, avoiding a direct answer. “Why do you ask?” I ignored him. Just then, the music in the grand hall shifted to a slow, elegant melody, and couples began to drift onto the dance floor. And Ian, my cold, distant boyfriend, who had just caught the clumsy, fake stumble of the young housekeeper, still had his hand firmly on her. He looked down, she looked up, and for a moment, they were a still, intimate portrait in the swirling crowd. The space between them was charged, an almost visible thread of intimacy. Robby and the others knew I couldn’t tolerate that. In the past, if any of them so much as spoke to another girl, I’d become a paranoid, quivering mess of suspicion and rage, my words turning into sharp needles that wounded them as much as they wounded me. It was exhausting for everyone. So, they learned to be careful, to keep their distance from other women. Even a flirt like Robby had toed that line for me. What I didn’t know was that this had become their favorite tool to get rid of me. My mind drifted back. The last time I broke up with Sean. The time before that, with Robby. It was always the same. I would explode in a fit of jealous, possessive rage. And they would deftly sidestep, calling it a “misunderstanding.” They’d even manage to seize the moral high ground, accusing me of not trusting them, of being unreasonable. I would be consumed by guilt, my self-worth crumbling. I’d cry myself to sleep for nights on end. And finally, like tearing a piece of my own heart out, I would be the one to initiate the breakup, setting them free. On the surface, they’d act regretful, disappointed. But behind my back, I can only imagine their sighs of relief. And now, Ian was pulling the same trick. I watched him and our housekeeper, their bodies so close. The taste in my mouth was bitter, but the fire in my chest was gone. I was just a burden to them. If getting rid of me without an ounce of guilt was their collective wish, then I was willing to grant it. I stared at Ian for a long, long time. So long that he finally felt my gaze and was about to turn and meet my eyes. That’s when I stood up and walked in the opposite direction. 2 I knew my reputation at school was terrible. So terrible that it must have taken a monumental effort for popular guys like Robby and the others to convince this many people to come to my birthday party. From the moment they stepped into my home, they all collectively ignored me, treating the event like any other college mixer. Not a single person had wished me a happy birthday. Not one gift had been offered. But I didn’t really care. I walked right up to the handsome new lecturer and held out my hand, my tone more of a command than a request. “Tell me your name. Then, ask me to dance.” The man looked surprised. His eyes widened slightly, and the small, crimson mole near the corner of his eye peeked out from behind the silver frame of his glasses. It gave him an unexpectedly playful look. All around us, conversations faltered as people started to watch. I thought, with a strange sense of detachment, that if he refused, it would be the perfect excuse to have a meltdown and throw every single person out of my house. I never considered the possibility that he would accept. Tonight was Ian’s grand performance, designed to push me over the edge. They had ignored me, isolated me. Why would they arrange for anyone to be kind to me? But I was wrong. This man was the one exception to their cruel script. He suddenly smiled, and his eyes were incredibly gentle. He took my hand, which had been left hanging awkwardly in the air. “My name is Kian Archer.” His voice was warm. “Happy birthday, Nina.” It was like being pricked by a needle. I snatched my hand back. But when I opened my palm, it wasn’t some practical joke. It was a small, exquisitely wrapped gift box. His words, free of any malice, finally registered. Stunned, I looked up at him, my heart suddenly racing, my throat tight. I was utterly lost. Kian didn’t seem bothered by my hostile reaction. He simply extended his hand again, his voice even softer. “If you’d like, may I have this dance?” I was the one who had tried to force him, yet he was acting as if it were his pleasure. His hand was elegant, his gesture perfectly chivalrous. Behind the thin lenses of his glasses, his light-colored eyes were filled with a soft, patient amusement, as if it wouldn’t matter at all if I played another game or rejected him again. I met his gaze for a long moment. Or maybe it was just a second. Finally, I raised my hand. Just as his fingers were about to close around mine, a loud crash echoed from across the room. Someone gasped. I instinctively turned to look. Ian, who had somehow ended up standing very close to me, was once again holding the housekeeper by the waist to steady her from yet another “fall.” After seeing her act this out multiple times, I finally dredged up her name. Rosie. Her mother was my live-in housekeeper. She’d been hired to take care of me when my brother was still alive. A few years ago, without my permission, she’d brought her daughter to live with us. When I found out, she begged me to let Rosie stay and help out. For her mother’s sake, I’d agreed. Until tonight, Rosie had always kept her head down. I’d barely even noticed her. But this relentless campaign for attention was making her impossible to ignore. “I’m so sorry! Everyone, I’m so sorry! I’ll clean this up right away…” Rosie’s face was crimson with shame as she bowed apologetically. She then knelt down and began to pick up the shards of broken glass. Ian quickly grabbed her hand. “Don’t use your hands,” he said softly. “You’ll cut yourself.” Rosie looked up at him, her eyes shining, and nodded obediently. I watched the scene unfold, my face impassive. And then I noticed something. My eyes narrowed, fixing on Rosie. “Why are you wearing my dress?” 3 Dozens of pairs of eyes instantly fell on Rosie’s attire. She was wearing a stunning, strapless gown that clung to her curves. No one would have ever guessed she was just the help. I’d hardly ever worn the dress, which is why I hadn’t recognized it at first glance. But now, looking closer, a memory slammed into me. My brother had bought it for me. My gaze sharpened, threatening to bore a hole right through her. Rosie’s face went pale, but her eyes immediately filled with tears. She clutched the fabric, her voice a small, innocent whisper. “I thought… I thought you weren’t going to wear this one either.” She sniffled. “It looked brand new, and I couldn’t bear to see it thrown away, so I…” I had no patience for her lies. It was true that I had a lot of clothes and that I regularly had my housekeeper clear out the ones I no longer wore. But every single item my brother had ever given me was kept in a separate wardrobe at the very back of my closet. I had made it explicitly clear to her mother that those were never to be touched. This wasn’t discarded. It was stolen. I fought back the furious rage boiling in my chest. “Take it off,” I said, my voice dangerously low. Rosie froze. The tears in her eyes welled up and spilled over, a single, perfect drop of humiliation. I took a deep breath, my fists clenched so tight my body trembled. Ignoring the dead silence that had fallen over the room, I repeated, my voice now a raw shout, “I said take it off! Didn’t you hear me?!” Rosie covered her face and began to sob, as if she had suffered the world’s greatest injustice. Ian finally stepped in. He moved to stand in front of her, shielding her from my view. He looked at me with open disapproval. “Nina, that’s enough.” My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a sharp, painful throb that sent waves of dizziness through my head. The resentment and hurt I had suppressed all night finally erupted. I lunged, grabbing a handful of broken glass from the floor and hurling it at Ian. Robby moved to intercept me, but I swung my arm back and slapped him hard across the face. The room filled with gasps and whispers. The prying, judgmental eyes hidden in the shadows only fueled my fury. “Get out! All of you, get out!” I screamed. “Get out of my house!” I was beyond reason. I started grabbing anything I could reach, throwing and smashing things indiscriminately. The guests, terrified, scrambled for the exits. Soon, only Robby, Ian, and Sean were left. Ian had angry red scratches on his face and neck from the glass. He was seething, watching me with cold fury. Robby touched the red mark on his cheek, his own expression dark. Sean, who was usually the calmest and best at handling me, wasn’t there. So Robby had to be the one to step in, swallowing his anger. “Nina, calm down. Just calm down…” His words were meaningless. My eyes were locked on Rosie, who was hiding behind Ian, a triumphant smirk on her face. A fresh wave of rage washed over me, and I lunged at her, intent on tearing that dress off her body. But Ian—my boyfriend—held her protectively. He grabbed my wrists, his voice frigid. “Haven’t you had enough? No one can put up with you when you’re like this!” My head was spinning. Before the pain of his words could even register, Robby grabbed me from behind, his arms locking around my waist. He spoke over my shoulder, his voice laced with impatience. “It’s just a dress. Can’t you be generous for once? I’ll buy you a new one, okay? Is that enough?” My eyes were raw and bloodshot. My throat felt like it was clogged with sand. But I refused to cry. I would not show weakness in front of these people, my tormentors. That was the last gift my brother ever gave me. I couldn’t be generous. I would rather burn it to ashes than let her have it. I struggled violently in Robby’s arms. Suddenly, I ducked my head and bit down hard on his wrist. He swore in pain. Enraged, I twisted around and clawed at him, my nails accidentally scratching the corner of his eye. That was the last straw. Robby’s anger exploded. In a purely reflexive act of rage, he swung his hand and slapped me across the face. The force of the blow sent me staggering. I lost my footing and collapsed to the floor. A roar of static filled my ears. And then, the world went silent. 4 I raised a hand, gingerly touching my swollen, throbbing cheek. Then I just sat there on the floor, dazed. I glanced down and saw the deep, red lines crisscrossing my palm where I had grabbed the broken glass. It was only then that I felt the sting. The pain, physical and emotional, finally washed over me. Above me, I heard a sharp, panicked intake of breath. Robby stepped forward, reaching down to help me up. But before his fingers could touch me, I flinched away. I scrambled to my feet on my own. Head down, I started toward my room. Ian suddenly blocked my path. He looked at me, his expression a complicated mess of emotions, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. My brain felt slow, sluggish. It took me a moment to process what he wanted. Then it clicked. I looked him in the eye and said, with perfect clarity, “Let’s break up. I’m ending it. It’s not your fault.” I added, “I hope you and your new girlfriend will be very happy together.” Ian stared at me, completely stunned. There was no relief on his face, only shock. I didn’t understand what I’d said wrong. I had given him exactly what he wanted, so why did he look so unhappy? It was too much to think about. I sidestepped him and fled up the stairs to my room. I locked the door but didn’t turn on the lights. Moving by muscle memory, I went to my bedside table and picked up the photo frame that always sat there. The thorns that surrounded my heart retracted. The storm of rage inside me finally subsided. I sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, holding the frame. By the faint moonlight filtering through the window, I tried to make out the picture inside. But I had forgotten about the cuts on my hand. A drop of blood fell onto the glass. I frantically tried to wipe it away, but it only smeared, blurring the faces into a crimson haze. I stared at it, a wave of despair washing over me. It’s been five years. My parents died when I was young, leaving me with only my older brother. But five years ago, he left me too. He had promised. He promised he would not only watch me grow up, but he would take care of me when I was old. We were going to be family forever, the best in the entire world. He broke his promise. I hugged the frame to my chest and curled into a ball on the cold floor. “You’re not here,” I whispered into the darkness. “And now they’re all bullying me…” The exhaustion was absolute. I closed my eyes, seeking escape. I expected another sleepless night, but this time, sleep came quickly. I had a dream. It wasn’t of my brother. It was of Sean. Flames licked the sky, thick black smoke churning in the air. In the distance, an explosion roared. The heat was suffocating, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. The acrid smell of smoke filled my nose and mouth. I stared at the world twisting and melting in the inferno, unable to tell if it was real or a nightmare. But it was just as I had imagined it a thousand times before. I was curled in a corner, with no desire to escape. The temperature climbed higher and higher. My skin felt dry and hot, as if it were about to cook. In the midst of the unbearable agony, a single, lucid thought cut through the haze. So this is how much it hurt. This is what my brother felt when he died. “…Nina?! NINA!!!” The bedroom door was kicked open with a violent crash, and a desperate, frantic shout ripped through the haze. Sean rushed in, smothering the flames that had begun to catch on my clothes with a damp blanket. He swept me up into his arms and carried me out of the inferno. But when we reached the safety of a tree outside, his arms went limp. He let me drop to the ground. I let out a muffled groan of pain. Sean was gasping for breath, soaked through with what was either sweat or water. His eyes were bloodshot as he knelt down and screamed at me, his voice raw with rage. “Why didn’t you run? Didn’t you see the fire? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” I slowly pushed myself up, leaning against the tree trunk. My gaze drifted past him to the firefighters battling the blaze, my mind a million miles away. His words didn’t register. Sean’s face, normally so gentle and composed, was twisted into a terrifying mask of grief and hatred. There were tears in his eyes. His voice dropped to a choked whisper. “Sometimes, Nina… I really wish I could just strangle you.”

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My mother was in the kitchen preparing lunch when the heart attack struck. She collapsed on the spot. My sister, the one she’d spoiled rotten her entire life, called me, her voice trembling. “Charlotte, Mom’s dying! You need to wire some money, now! I need to charter a private medevac. The doctors say it’s her only chance!” As one of the country’s top investment bankers, a few hundred thousand dollars is little more than a flickering number on a screen to me. But I simply glanced toward the kitchen door, then ended the call. “She’s not going to die.” Then, I dialed the number for a high-end luxury boutique and ordered their latest limited-edition handbag. Price tag: five hundred thousand dollars. 1 “Ms. Thornton, congratulations! You’ve been upgraded to our SVIP status. We’ll arrange for immediate home delivery!” The boutique manager’s voice was electric with excitement. At almost the exact same moment, my sister, Chloe, called back, screaming this time. “Charlotte! Are you insane?! You just dropped half a million on a purse without blinking, but Mom’s life isn’t worth anything to you? Is a stupid piece of leather more important than our own mother?!” Her voice was raw, the desperation palpable even through the phone. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, who was helping with lunch, stared at me with wide, horrified eyes. I ignored them both and continued my conversation with the manager. “That particular bag… I believe it also comes in a sapphire blue, doesn’t it? I’ll take that one as well. It’s always nice to have a matching set.” Just like that, I spent another half a million dollars. “Charlotte!” Chloe’s shriek nearly shattered my eardrum. “Are you even her daughter?! Did you not hear a single word I said?” Realizing that screaming was getting her nowhere, her tone abruptly shifted to a tearful plea. “Mom collapsed in the kitchen. It was a massive heart attack. The doctors here say their equipment isn’t good enough; she needs to be transferred to a specialist hospital in the city immediately. We need a medevac… Charlotte, I’ll pay you back, I swear. Just front the money, please! She’s our mother!” She was sobbing hysterically, repeating her promises, but I simply walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and watched the traffic flowing in the streets below. After a full three minutes of her crying, my patience finally wore thin. “What are you making such a fuss about?” I cut in, my voice cold. “She’s still breathing, isn’t she? Call me back when she’s actually dead. I have important things to do.” I ended the call. Mrs. Gable had heard everything. The vegetables in her hands tumbled to the floor. She grabbed my arm, her own hand trembling. “Miss Charlotte, your mother… is she…? You have to do something! Saving her is what’s important!” I yanked my arm away in disgust and calmly sat back down on the sofa, pulling out my phone and scrolling through social media. The bright, flashing colors on the screen were soothing. It wasn’t until Mrs. Gable looked like she was about to burst into tears herself that I finally spoke, my voice a lazy drawl. “What’s the rush? Let me finish this video first.” Mrs. Gable stared at me as if she were seeing a monster for the first time. She shot to her feet, clutching her chest in anguish. “Charlotte, that’s your mother! Her life is on the line, and you’re not only not worried, you’re sitting here watching videos on your phone? Is your heart made of stone?!” In all her years working for our family, Mrs. Gable had always been timid and deferential. This was the first time she had ever dared to raise her voice to me. “That money is nothing to you! Send it to your sister, now!” I acted as if I hadn’t heard a word, my thumb continuing its steady scroll. I even liked a funny cat video. Mrs. Gable was shaking with rage. I finally deigned to look at her, my voice like ice. “Everyone has their own fate. If they need money, they’ll find a way to get it.” “You!” She was so angry her face went white. She pointed a trembling finger at me, but the words wouldn’t come. Finally, she let out a long, shuddering sigh, her eyes welling with tears. “They say business people are heartless. I never believed it. But you… you’ve truly opened my eyes today.” With that, she fumbled for her own old, beat-up phone, a look of grim determination on her face. “I have a few thousand dollars saved for my retirement. I’ll send it to your sister. Every little bit helps!” I lunged forward, snatched the phone from her hand, and smashed it on the marble floor. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks. “Charlotte, you’re mad!” To her accusation, I simply replied, my voice light and airy, “You are my housekeeper. I pay your salary. You are not to give my money to anyone without my permission.” Mrs. Gable froze, utterly stunned. She looked at my cold, implacable face and saw a complete stranger. Just then, a video call from Chloe came through. I was about to reject it, but Mrs. Gable lunged, grabbing the phone and answering frantically. “Chloe, how is your mother? Is she… is she okay?!” Chloe turned the camera to our mother, who was lying on the living room floor. Her face was a terrifying shade of bluish-purple, her lips white, her chest barely moving. A young paramedic was performing CPR, his face beaded with sweat. Through the phone came Chloe’s heart-wrenching sobs. “The doctor said we only have a few minutes! If we don’t get her on that medevac, she’s not going to make it! Charlotte, it’s just the two of us! How can you be so cruel? How can you just watch her die?!” Her wailing had attracted the neighbors, who were now gathered at her open door, pointing and whispering in our direction. Even the paramedic looked up at the camera and yelled, “Ma’am! The patient is in critical condition! What are you waiting for? Is money more important than her life?!” I leaned into the phone and shouted back, “Since when is it your place to judge my decisions?” Then, I pulled out my own phone, opened my banking app, and in full view of everyone, transferred one million dollars to the luxury boutique. 2 Seeing that she couldn’t persuade me, Mrs. Gable clutched her heart, her face ashen. “Charlotte… you… you’re being completely unreasonable!” On the other end of the line, Chloe let out a desperate, animalistic howl. “Charlotte, you’re killing her! You’re killing our mother!” Her voice, raw with anguish, filled the living room. “She was always so good to you! She always put you first! What could you possibly be so unhappy about that you’d rather spend a million dollars on two purses than a few hundred thousand to save her life?!” I nonchalantly cleaned out my ear. “Are you done? It’s my money. I’ll spend it however I want. Rose Thornton is almost seventy years old. Don’t you think she should know the state of her own health? At her age, if she doesn’t take care of herself, and then comes crying to her daughter for money when she collapses… well, I earned my money to enjoy life, not to pay for her medical bills. Adults have to take responsibility for their own choices. Stop bothering me with this nonsense.” Through the phone’s camera, I could see Chloe’s bloodshot eyes boring into me. “Even if… even if you don’t care about her as a mother, what about me? I’m your sister! If Mom dies, our family is gone!” “Oh?” I let out a sudden laugh. “She’s your mother too. You’re the precious daughter she doted on your whole life. Why don’t you figure out a way to save her instead of just screaming at me? I have money, yes. But it’s my money. What does it have to do with you? You figure it out. Don’t make me late for my handbag verification this afternoon.” I ended the call. The room fell silent. The neighbors who had gathered at Chloe’s door, having overheard everything, were now staring at our house with a mixture of shock and disgust. “How can she be so cold-blooded? That’s her own mother!” “A few hundred thousand is nothing to a CEO like her! She just dropped a million on purses, but she won’t pay to save her mother’s life? She’s not human!” “I can’t believe a monster like that lives in our neighborhood!” My actions had ignited a firestorm of righteous indignation. And yet, I sat there calmly, brewing myself a cup of tea as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Gable, trembling, approached me again. “Miss Charlotte, please, stop this foolishness. Send Chloe the money… save your mother!” I made a sound of annoyance. “Shut up. One more word, and you’re out of this house.” She collapsed onto the floor, muttering, “It’s over. It’s all over.” That afternoon, I took my new handbag for a spin, enjoyed a leisurely shopping trip, and returned to my office in high spirits. As I walked into the lobby, a figure rushed forward and threw herself at my feet. It was Chloe. She was sobbing, banging her head on the floor. “Charlotte, I’m begging you! I’ll pay you back! I’ll sell a kidney if I have to, just please, save Mom! She’s the one who raised you! She’s the only mother you have! If she dies, you won’t even have a home to go to for the holidays! If you save her, I’ll be your slave for the rest of my life!” The employees and clients in the lobby stared, stunned, as a crowd began to form. The young woman at the reception desk, her heart going out to Chloe, tried to help her up. “Ma’am, please, get up. You’re hurt, you shouldn’t be kneeling on the floor.” It was then that everyone noticed Chloe’s forehead was red and raw from her prostrations, her face streaked with tears and dirt. She was a pathetic sight. “That CEO is a real piece of work!” “To just stand by and watch her own mother die… she doesn’t deserve to be a daughter!” I ignored the whispers and Chloe’s wails, glancing at the Patek Philippe on my wrist. “I have a charity gala to attend this evening. If you’re done crying, you can leave.” Chloe froze, her eyes filling with a venomous hatred. “Your mother is dying, and you refuse to spend a penny to save her, but you have money to throw away at charity?! Charlotte, how can you be so cruel?!” Her accusation was almost funny. “If you were that desperate, you could have sold your house and your car.” Chloe was silent for a moment, then she slammed her head against the polished marble floor again, letting out a heart-wrenching scream. “I wanted to! But when I got married to Ethan, Mom gave us all her savings! You didn’t contribute a single cent! The house we live in, the car we drive, it was all from her! We don’t have any liquid assets! Three years ago, when Ethan and I got married, you looked down on him because he wasn’t wealthy enough for you. You didn’t come to our wedding, you didn’t give me a dowry, not even a wedding gift! To save me from embarrassment, Mom gave us everything she had! Ever since you became successful, you’ve looked down on all of us! You won’t even come home for Mom’s birthday! The last time you visited, you gave her a twenty-dollar bill as a gift! Charlotte, if you have a problem with me, I can change, okay? But you can’t just let Mom die!” As she sobbed at my feet, I didn’t interrupt her. Because every word she said was true. I hadn’t given her a penny for her wedding. And I knew perfectly well that for years, none of them, including my mother, had any real money to their names. But in the next second, I waved to the security guards. “Get her out of here. I don’t want her dirtying the company’s carpets.” My actions sent a shockwave through the crowd. Someone shouted, “That woman is a cold-hearted monster! It’s just a few hundred thousand! We can all pitch in, we’ll raise it in no time!” A chorus of agreement rose up, and people started pulling out their phones. I surveyed the crowd, my voice cutting through their charitable fervor like a shard of ice. “Anyone who gives them a single cent today is making an enemy of Charlotte Thornton. And you will never see a dime from any of my future projects.” As the city’s largest real estate investor, no one dared to doubt the weight of my words. The would-be saviors reluctantly put their phones away. Chloe let out a piercing shriek and lunged at me. “How can a daughter as evil as you exist in this world?! You don’t deserve to be human!” Suddenly, her phone rang. On the other end, the paramedic’s voice was tired and heavy with regret. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We did everything we could… Your mother’s vital signs ceased five minutes ago.” Chloe froze, a guttural, animalistic cry tearing from her throat. Then, she fainted dead away. Several employees rushed to catch her. Everyone was now staring at me with a mixture of fear and revulsion. “Well, Ms. Thornton, I hope you’re satisfied,” an older, respected employee said, pointing a finger at my nose. “You’ve personally murdered your own mother.” Under the weight of all their judgmental stares, a relaxed smile spread across my face. “I am very satisfied.” After all, now that she was dead, I wouldn’t have to listen to any more of that tiresome crying. I left the unconscious Chloe on the floor and had my driver take me to the charity gala. There, in front of all the media, I publicly pledged three million dollars. Afterward, I had my assistant post a picture of the donation certificate on my social media. It immediately went viral. Someone had filmed the scene in my office lobby and posted it online. The video quickly trended, and my identity was revealed. I was crucified online, branded the most cold-blooded, unfilial daughter in history. Animals, they said, at least have the decency to care for their parents. I was worse than an animal. The public began to boycott all of my company’s real estate developments. Some even started trying to dox me. My assistant anxiously asked what we should do. I just smiled and told her to schedule a press conference for the next day. No need to rush. A good show needs a grand finale. 3 As expected, Chloe showed up at the press conference. She didn’t come alone. She brought my brother-in-law of three years, and a whole flock of wailing, grieving relatives. They were all dressed in black, clutching a framed portrait of my mother. The moment she saw me, Chloe’s eyes, red-rimmed and venomous, locked onto mine. “Charlotte! Because you wouldn’t pay a few hundred thousand dollars, Mom is dead! She died with her eyes open! Is this the ending you wanted?!” I casually twirled a pen in my fingers, not even bothering to look at her for more than a second. “She had a sudden heart attack. That was a result of her own health. What does it have to do with me?” My coldness was like gasoline on a fire. Chloe was shaking with rage, pointing at me, speechless. The reporters in the audience could no longer contain themselves. One after another, they hurled sharp, accusatory questions at me. “Ms. Thornton, our investigation shows that your mother, Rose Thornton, worked tirelessly to raise you and your sister. During the early stages of your career, she sold her family home to support you. But after you became successful, you completely abandoned her. Why?” “You’ve had a strained relationship with your sister, Chloe, since childhood. Your mother constantly tried to mediate. She would start preparing your favorite dishes a month in advance just to get you to come home for the holidays. How could you be so cruel to the woman who gave you life?” “Was it just because she favored your sister a little more?” I glanced at the reporter who had asked the last question. “Every family has its problems. Do I need to report my family dynamics to all of you?” “But your family has consistently sacrificed for you!” a female reporter shot back. She then played a recording of a statement from our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable. “Mrs. Thornton always loved Charlotte the most. She would always say how hard it must be for her, building a business all by herself. Whenever she made something delicious, she would insist on taking a portion to Charlotte’s office. Even if Charlotte didn’t eat it, she would still take it. When Chloe got married, Mrs. Thornton spent all her savings. She was afraid of embarrassing Charlotte, the successful CEO. She always said, when the older sister is successful, the younger sister can’t fall too far behind, otherwise people will laugh at the older sister…” After hearing this, the crowd’s disdain for me intensified. “What a thankless wretch! Her mother was so good to her, and she just let her die!” Chloe chose that moment to let her tears fall, her voice thick with grief. “Mom did all of that willingly. I don’t blame my sister. I just don’t understand why she would do this to her.” The relatives behind her started to wail. “Charlotte, if you don’t give your mother a proper explanation today, we’ll die right here!” “You killed your own mother, and now you want to keep the entire inheritance for yourself! We demand that you give us the share your mother was entitled to!” I met their greedy, hateful gazes and smiled. “I’m sorry, but nothing in this family has anything to do with my mother.” My words were like a splash of cold water on a grease fire. The room erupted. “She’s evil! She’s even trying to steal her own mother’s inheritance! She’s an animal!” “Thornton Industries is worth billions! She wouldn’t pay a few hundred thousand to save her, and now she wants to take what little her mother had left? She’s trying to drive her sister’s family to ruin too!” The enraged relatives and some of the more emotional members of the press started to surge toward the stage, ready to tear me apart. Just then, the doors to the conference room were pushed open, and a group of uniformed police officers marched in. “Nobody move!” the officer in charge commanded.

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I was transported into a horror game with my best friend. She became the final BOSS, and I became a player. When my teammates shoved me forward as a human shield, I threw myself into the BOSS’s arms and whined. “Babe, they’re all bullying me.” The BOSS’s pale fingers paused at my neck for a fraction of a second before lashing out, striking my teammates with brutal force. With him on my side, I was unstoppable, raking in points like it was nothing. Then one day, the game glitched, and two instances merged. The BOSS from the other instance saw me and let out a triumphant shriek, tackling me in a hug. “My darling bestie, I finally found you!” Wait. If she’s my best friend… then who is the BOSS holding me right now? 1. [Welcome to the instance: The Lost Woods.] [Instance Difficulty: SSS-Rank] [Objective: Survive for one month.] [Commencing rules announcement:] [Rule 1: Do not act alone at night.] [Rule 2…] It took until the second rule for the reality to sink in: I was in a horror game. As the cold, mechanical voice droned on, a live-stream chat feed exploded in my vision. [WTF, a whole month? No wonder this is the hardest instance. Most are just a week.] [Well, this is the instance the elite squad chose. It’s gotta be different.] Reading that made my eye twitch. Forcing myself to stay calm, I scanned the five people around me, drawing on years of playing horror games. A good team was half the battle. There were three men—one average-looking, one with glasses, and one heavy-set guy—and two women, one with fiery red hair and another with a dark, brooding look in her eyes. None of them showed a hint of panic. The red-haired woman’s gaze met mine, and she shot me a look of pure venom. My heart sank. She didn’t seem very approachable. I ignored it for now and focused back on the chat, trying to glean any useful information. [I remember this instance has a hidden rule… something about sacrificing one person to the BOSS every three days…] [Hey, is that a noob?] [Poor girl. First time in and she lands in a hell-tier instance.] [And she’s with Carter’s squad… yikes. She won’t last three days.] Before I could process that, the average-looking man, Carter, walked over to me and extended his hand. “Hey, newbie. I’m Carter, this squad’s leader. We’ll need your full cooperation if you want to survive.” I reached out to shake his hand, but he pulled his back at the last second, leaving me hanging awkwardly. The red-haired woman let out a derisive snort. “He was just being polite. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I pressed my lips together. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play it, I wouldn’t be telling them that my best friend was the BOSS of this instance. The man with the glasses, Dexter, tried to smooth things over, but his eyes, magnified behind his lenses, were fixed on me with a cold, reptilian focus that made my skin crawl. The sky was darkening, and the woods around us began to rustle, as if something was waking up. I remembered the first rule. As much as they creeped me out, I couldn’t risk being alone. 2. Carter and his team operated with a chilling efficiency. A single glance was all they needed to communicate. As the temperature in the forest plummeted, they expertly started a fire and began roasting their rations. I was completely out of the loop, so I huddled to the side, trying to start my own small fire. Now I understood why the chat was so ominous about Carter’s squad. Every new player unfortunate enough to be matched with them probably got the same treatment. This was their first time in this instance too, so on the first night, they stuck to the rules, unwilling to make any reckless moves. After eating, they prepared to sleep. The heavy-set one, Gus, grinned at me. “Hey, newbie. You’re on watch tonight.” It took me a second to register. “Huh?” His smile didn’t waver as he pointed to the fire he’d built a dozen feet away. “You warmed yourself by our fire. It’s only fair you pay us back now.” The red-haired woman, Ruby, shot me a disdainful look. “You should be grateful. We’re giving you a chance to gain some experience.” The other two said nothing, simply closing their eyes. I was trapped. I couldn’t risk being ambushed by some monster while I slept. I still had to find my best friend and get her protection; I couldn’t die here. So, I kept watch all night, my heart pounding with every snap of a twig. The next morning, Carter’s team woke up refreshed and full of energy, ready to tackle the instance objectives. My eyelids felt like lead weights, but I forced myself to trail behind them, terrified of being left alone. After last night, they seemed to have decided I was a total pushover. Under the guise of “training me,” they ordered me around constantly. And when it came time to collect rewards, they snatched all the credit, having the points transferred to their accounts. The chat was full of pity. [They’re really walking all over this noob.] [The three-day sacrifice is coming up. Guess we know who they’re picking.] Someone argued back. [It’s survival of the fittest. This is a horror game, not a charity.] Carter’s team saw the comments, of course. The cold cruelty in their eyes was unmistakable. They might as well have said it out loud. But I wasn’t upset. In fact, I kept pushing the boundaries of the rules, doing little things to attract attention. I couldn’t wait for the BOSS to show up. 3. The day passed without incident. Carter’s team, now familiar with the immediate surroundings, decided it was time to test the rules. That night, they used me as bait, hoping to lure out whatever monster lurked in the darkness. My struggles and protests earned me a sharp slap from the brooding woman, Mara. My cheek stung, swelling instantly, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. They dragged me away from the fire and left me in the open. Seconds later, a sinister wind tore through the trees. Countless glowing red eyes blinked open in the shadows. A black mist rolled in, and from it emerged a man, the lower half of his face wrapped in bandages. Behind him, a mass of inky black tentacles writhed and clawed at the air. Everywhere he walked, the trees in his path were pulverized into dust. The chat erupted. [HOLY SHIT, they actually did it! They baited out the final BOSS!] [Are they crazy? I thought they were here for points, not to get themselves killed!] [Carter’s team is ranked in the top ten! I thought they might actually be the first to clear this instance. Looks like they’re here to set the record for the fastest team wipe instead.] Seeing the BOSS, the calm, collected masks on Carter’s team finally shattered. “Run!” Carter shrieked, his voice raw with terror. But the BOSS was too fast. It would be on them in seconds. Running was pointless. Desperate for more time, they exchanged a look, then used an item to launch me through the air, directly at the BOSS. The chat began mourning my terrible luck. But I didn’t fight it. Instead, I threw myself right into the BOSS’s arms, sobbing and whining. “Babe, they’re all bullying me.” The tentacles that were about to crush me… paused. The BOSS’s pale fingers, hovering over my neck, hesitated. The chat went into a frenzy. [WTF, did the noob snap from fear?] [Does she have a death wish?!] [DO YOU SEE WHO THAT IS? THAT’S THE FINAL BOSS!] [I guarantee you, in the next second, those tentacles are gonna rip her in two.] In the next instant, the flood of comments came to a dead halt. Because the BOSS lifted his gaze, looked at the five people scrambling for their lives, and his tentacles shot out, impaling their legs. [HUH???] [NO WAY. AM I SEEING THIS RIGHT?] [This is… I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.] I snuggled deeper into the BOSS’s chest. It was surprisingly firm, yet yielding. “I knew you were the best to me, babe!” I chirped. “Hehe, and this body is a masked type? That’s totally my thing.” The BOSS’s body went rigid. 4. Carter’s team was elite for a reason. They had extensive experience dealing with life-or-death situations, or they wouldn’t have survived this long. Seizing the BOSS’s momentary hesitation, they gritted their teeth, ripped the tentacles from their thighs, and bolted. But the BOSS was faster. They’d barely taken a step before slender, impossibly strong tentacles wrapped around them, binding them tight and squeezing, inch by inch. As the tentacles began to bite into their flesh, a look of agony crossed Gus’s face. In a flash, he used an item. A blinding golden light erupted. The light was so intense it stung my eyes. When my vision cleared, Carter and his team were gone. The tentacles in the air still held the shape of their bodies, grasping at nothing. The chat was on fire. [An SSS-Rank escape item! No wonder!] [I knew they had to have an ace up their sleeve to take on a hell-tier instance.] [Wait, didn’t this squad just grind SS-Rank instances to get elite status? Where did they get a 3S item?] [Yeah, you can’t even buy those in the point shop. You have to clear a 3S instance.] [Speaking of which… don’t you guys remember that elite player who teamed up with them and then disappeared…?] With Carter’s team gone, the BOSS retracted his tentacles. The forest fell silent, except for the red eyes still glinting from the shadows. The wind rustled the leaves with a chilling sound. But wrapped in the BOSS’s embrace, I felt completely safe. I was so relaxed I even started reading the gossip in the chat. As I was getting to the good part, the comments suddenly stopped and were replaced by a collective scream. [Is this noob for real? The BOSS is standing right there and she’s reading the chat?] [BOSS: Ahem. I’m still here.] [OMG, is there something wrong with her?] [She must have been scared senseless. Did she really just call the BOSS ‘babe’?!] [DUMMY! STOP READING THE CHAT! THE BOSS’S TENTACLE IS ON YOUR LEG!] I instinctively slapped downwards. “Babe, don’t interrupt my gossip,” I mumbled. 5. The BOSS seemed displeased by my neglect. Instead of retracting, the tentacle coiled even tighter around my leg. The sensation was cold and slick against my palm. A novel experience. Since the gossip train had stopped, I turned my attention to the BOSS holding me. He had striking features, a high-bridged nose, and messy bangs that, combined with the bandages, gave him an aura of mystery. His black clothing clung to his body like a second skin, outlining every muscle. His powerful chest and lean, defined abs were clearly visible. The only skin exposed was on his hands and face, creating a very ascetic vibe. Damn. My bestie really scored with this avatar. It was hitting every single one of my preferences. The strange thing was, there was a distance in his eyes when he looked at me. And he hadn’t said a single word. That wasn’t like my bubbly, chatty best friend at all. It must be because she saw me get thrown to her as a human shield. She must have been terrified. She attacked those people to save me. That was so bloody. My bestie, who’s normally too scared to even kill a chicken! She must be in shock. And after they ran away, I was too busy reading the chat to comfort her. Thinking about it, I felt terrible. I hadn’t considered her feelings at all. The more I thought, the more I regretted it. I wrapped my arms around him and started stroking his hair soothingly. “Babe, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how you must have felt.” His entire body tensed. Even the tentacle around my leg went rigid. 6. I figured she was just getting used to this new body and wasn’t comfortable with our usual physical affection yet, so I didn’t overthink it. I launched into a stream of heartfelt apologies. “Those people were horrible! They bullied me, they wouldn’t let me sleep, and they kept taking advantage of me and stealing my points.” “The only reason I didn’t comfort you right away was because I was trying to learn more about them so they couldn’t get away next time! It wasn’t because I don’t care about you!” He remained silent, his long lashes hiding the expression in his eyes. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I looked up at him pitifully. “Babe, why aren’t you talking to me? Are you still mad?” He didn’t move. I tried again, nuzzling against his chest. “You really can’t forgive me?” [What is this newbie doing???] [Does she think sweet-talking the BOSS will save her? How naive can you be in a horror game!] [OMG, does she think this is a dating sim?] [Just because the BOSS is hot and she’s kinda cute, she thinks she can romance him? Get a grip!] [Doesn’t she know what a ‘hell-tier instance’ means? NO ONE has ever cleared it!] [Yeah, the BOSS is devastatingly handsome, but he’s also devastatingly lethal!] [Okay, but quietly… the BOSS really does seem to be treating her differently. He protected her right away.] [Even X, the strongest player in the guild, only lasted five minutes against this BOSS, and that was with spamming god-tier items. This newbie has been alive for over ten…] [What are you thinking? She’s openly a player. What monster doesn’t kill players? Maybe the BOSS is just saving her for a slow, torturous death?] The chat was a chaotic mess. It was making my head spin. Just then, the BOSS awkwardly lifted a cold, pale hand and gently covered my eyes. His voice was a low rasp. “Sleep.” 7. I peeked through a tiny gap between his fingers, confirming that the BOSS really wasn’t angry. My eyes met his dark, intense pupils. He spoke again, his tone a little unnatural, as if he hadn’t spoken in a very long time. He was trying to soothe me. “Don’t… be afraid.” So, I obediently closed my eyes and went to sleep. In a corner I couldn’t see, the chat collectively lost its mind. [WTF??? THE BOSS CAN TALK!] [AND THE NEWBIE ISN’T DEAD!] [Could she be some kind of hidden master player?] [This is getting interesting. I’m following this newbie’s stream for sure!] [Heh. I, for one, can’t wait to see how this arrogant newbie finally dies.] [OMG, I can’t believe I’m shipping this.] [^^ Same.] The BOSS supported me with his tentacles. Each one was carefully controlled, moving with a delicate precision, as if afraid of hurting me. He carried me back to his lair, where I slept soundly and safely. The next morning, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the BOSS. He had even thoughtfully prepared breakfast for me. I launched myself at him, hugging him tightly. “Babe, you’re too good to me!” My bestie was clearly still not used to being so close in this body. She immediately handed me a piece of bread. “Eat,” she said, ever so concise. The chat was flabbergasted. [??? This world is getting weirder and weirder.] [Am I hallucinating from watching this newbie’s stream all night?] [^^^ Nope, you’re not. I watched all night too. The BOSS guarded her while she slept, never tried to kill her, and then left for a bit just before dawn and came back with bread.] [Wait a minute. The BOSS from this instance went for a stroll through X’s instance? The alarms were blaring, X and his team were freaking out thinking it was a once-in-a-century bug, and it turns out the BOSS just stole a loaf of bread… for a player???] I munched on my bread while reading the comments. Honestly, these people. A best friend grabbing a snack for her bestie—is that really so shocking? Besides, she knows me so well. The bread she stole was delicious. I was only halfway through it when a bright white light flashed before my eyes. Huh? The chat never mentioned that the bread in this game came with special effects. When my vision cleared, I was face-to-face with a haggard-looking Carter and his team. The BOSS, who had been right beside me, was gone. 8. This time, there was none of the arrogant disdain I’d seen when we first met. Carter and his team were in tatters, their clothes ripped and their ration packs gone. Their eyes immediately locked onto the half-eaten bread in my hand. Gus, in particular, swallowed hard, looking like he was about to snatch it from me. But he forced a smile. “Newbie, you’re okay! We were so worried…” Before he could finish, I shoved the rest of the bread into my mouth in three quick bites. Revealing food in front of a starving group was just asking to be robbed. I’m not an idiot. Better in my stomach than in their hands. Gus’s smile froze on his lips. The others looked livid. The chat exploded with laughter. [This is the first time I’ve ever seen Carter’s team get owned by a newbie.] [Why is this so satisfying LOLOLOL.] [Shhh, don’t say that too loud, their fanboys will come for you.] [This newbie has zero empathy. Her teammates are starving, what’s wrong with sharing half a piece of bread?] [Hey, who are you to lecture her? Where was your ’empathy’ when the newbie was starving on the first night while they ate their rations in front of her?] The debate was cut short by a system announcement. [Warning! Player has intentionally violated the rules. Punishment is imminent!] [Repeating.] [Warning! Player has intentionally violated the rules. Punishment is imminent!] The moment the mechanical voice faded, six identical doors materialized in front of us. Carter and his team knew what this was. Their faces paled. They had no intention of explaining it to me, and I had no intention of asking. I just waited for the system to announce the new rules. This time, it was simple. [Five doors of life, one door of death. Players may choose freely.] [Enter a door and clear the challenge within to complete the punishment.] As if to warn us against any further violations, the system added a final note. [Warning: Only one player may enter each door. Violators will bear the consequences.] Then the system went silent. Carter’s team didn’t move. I copied them, studying the identical doors with no clue what to do. After a moment, they exchanged a knowing glance. Carter slowly approached me, extending his hand again. I eyed him suspiciously, wondering what he was plotting this time. I didn’t take it. He wasn’t fazed. “Newbie, we were out of line before.” “But it was all just a test. We’ve now confirmed that you have what it takes to join our elite squad. I’m officially inviting you to join us. Let’s face this challenge and clear the instance together.” 9. I didn’t say a word. [Is this the first time Carter’s squad has ever invited a newbie to join?] [This girl is so lucky. She gets to join an elite team right off the bat.] [What is she waiting for? A top player like Carter invited her, she should be on her knees thanking him.] The chat was swarming with Carter’s fan club. Any dissenting comments were quickly buried. Seeing my lack of reaction, Carter rubbed his nose and chuckled. “Our team is focused on absolute strength, so public opinion on us is a bit… polarized.” “But don’t worry. If you join us, we will absolutely take care of you…” I cut him off. “What are the benefits?” [There’s a new weirdo every year, but this year is special. The BOSS in the other instance won’t kill anyone, and this newbie player is negotiating terms with an elite team.] [She’s so full of herself. If it were me, I’d pay to get into Carter’s squad, and she has the nerve to ask for benefits!] [Yeah, if I got into an elite team, I’d be smiling in my sleep!] [Seriously, does she have any idea what being on an elite team means?] I ignored the chat. After just two days, it was obvious that Carter and his crew were purely self-serving. They wouldn’t be inviting me to join unless they thought I was useful. And what use did I have? It had to be because I’d returned unharmed from an encounter with the BOSS. Of course, the only reason I was still alive was because the BOSS was my best friend. But they didn’t know that. From their perspective, I was incredibly powerful. If I agreed to join too easily, that would be suspicious. My interruption didn’t seem to annoy Carter. Even Ruby, who had always despised me, was holding her tongue. “One hundred thousand points,” Carter offered, “and one SS-Rank item. How does that sound?” Before I could answer, the chat blew up. [WTF, that’s what they pay 3S-cleared guild members for help!] [What’s so special about this newbie that they’re willing to pay so much?] [Heh, you all have no idea how powerful our Newbie Queen is.] [She had the hell-tier BOSS watch over her while she slept and make her breakfast. How about that?] Carter and his team saw those comments, and the last shred of doubt in their eyes vanished. Ruby even came over to apologize. “Hey, girl, I have a bad temper. A newbie got me in trouble once, almost cost me a hand—” She paused, showing me a faint scar on her wrist. “I guess I was just paranoid after that.” I smiled at her. “Alright. Since we’ve cleared the air, it’s better to have a friend than an enemy.” 10. Carter moved quickly, transferring 100,000 points to my account and sending over an SS-Rank item. I clicked [Accept]. After a few pleasantries, it was time to face the punishment. They said that to make up for their previous behavior, I could choose a door first. I picked one at random and walked toward it. Immediately, Dexter sidled up to me, his voice a sinister rasp. “What a coincidence. I was going to pick this one too.” He stared at me, his gaze slimy and repulsive. Not wanting to deal with him, I stepped back and moved toward another door. But it happened again. Every time I chose a door, someone else would immediately claim it with some flimsy excuse. Mara didn’t even bother with an excuse; she just walked into the one I was approaching before I could. Finally, there was only one door left. I had no choice but to go in. As soon as I stepped through, a flurry of black tentacles shot toward me. They moved so fast I couldn’t even see the afterimage, only the sound of them slicing through the air filling my ears. [HOLY SHIT, IT’S THE DEATH DOOR!] [Heh, no wonder they invited her. If she survived the BOSS, she’s either skilled or super lucky. They took all the other doors, leaving her with the most dangerous one. If she dies, her points and items drop, and they can just loot her corpse. What a perfect plan, zero losses!] [Classic Carter move. How else do you think their points grew so fast?] [I knew they couldn’t be that generous.] [Finally an interesting newbie, but she’s so clueless. What a shame.] The chat was already preparing my eulogy. But in the next second, the razor-sharp tentacles screeched to a halt just inches from my face. They softened, gently brushing against my cheek as if trying to confirm something.

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After I started dating Alexander Malon, I overheard his twin brother say: “Come on, bro. Let me pretend to be you and mess with Mia for a bit.” Alexander’s voice was casual. “Fine.” I pretended not to know and dated the fake Alexander. But when the real Alexander saw the marks on my neck, he went ballistic. He grabbed his own brother by the throat and snarled: “Who the hell gave you permission to touch her?!” 1. It was late. I had just stepped out of the shower when a message from Alexander Malon lit up my phone. It was the address of an exclusive private club. My grip on the phone tightened. When I didn’t reply immediately, another message came through: “Don’t keep me waiting, Mia.” I sighed and typed back, “On my way.” I quickly threw on some clothes. As I left the bathroom, my stepfather was standing right outside the door, his cloudy eyes filled with a nauseating desire. “All showered and still dressed so buttoned-up? Going out?” He took a drag from his cigarette and moved closer. I took two steps back, putting distance between us. “Alexander is waiting for me.” At the mention of his name, my stepfather froze, a flicker of fear in his eyes. I used the opening to slip past him and grab the doorknob. “Shameless little tramp,” he spat from behind me. “Think you can use him to threaten me just because you found your golden ticket? You think I’m scared to touch you now?” I glanced back at him, my voice cold. “Are you?” Then I slammed the door shut, the sound echoing along with his curses. 2. The club was dripping with luxury, its patrons all dressed in designer clothes that screamed wealth and privilege. In my simple hoodie, I stuck out like a sore thumb. A hostess led me to a private suite on the top floor. As we approached, I could hear voices from inside. “So, Alex, I hear this Mia girl is really good to you, huh?” “Let me pretend to be you and have some fun with her.” The suggestion was met with a chorus of whoops and jeers. “Damn, Matt, you’re not even trying to be subtle about poaching your brother’s girl.” “You don’t get it. That Mia is the real deal. Makes him soup, reminds him to take his medicine… Who could resist that level of devotion?” “You think the great Alexander Malon would share?” “Are you kidding? Alex and Matt are two peas in a pod. This isn’t the first time they’ve played a game like this.” … After the noise died down, Alexander’s deep voice finally cut through, laced with an indifferent amusement. “Fine. Consider it my welcome-home gift to you.” The hooting and hollering grew louder. The hostess stood frozen, looking at me with an awkward pity. As the subject of their little game, I felt nothing. I just smiled at her and pushed the door open. My reasons for getting close to Alexander Malon were simple: I needed the Malon family’s protection. Protection from the bullies at school, and from my stepfather’s predatory gaze at home. When a person’s life is hanging by a thread, all they want is a way to climb out. It doesn’t matter who is holding the rope. In the end, all ropes are cast aside. 3. The rich kids in the suite whistled when they saw me, their expressions a mixture of arrogance and lazy amusement. I kept a gentle smile on my face as I walked toward the main sofa. Alexander and his brother, Matt, sat side by side, watching me with unreadable expressions. Like predators waiting for their prey to walk into the cage. They had the exact same face. The same cool, pale skin, the same devastating good looks. “Mia, you’re here.” A hand reached out and pulled me down beside him. I looked at that face and sneered internally. Matt and Alexander may have looked identical, but their auras were completely different. Alexander was a storm cloud of dark, oppressive energy. Matt was a wildfire of wild, rebellious charm. It didn’t matter to me. I didn’t care if he was Alexander or Matt. As long as he could get me through my final exams and out of that rotten house, he could be anyone. I took Matt’s hand naturally, as if I truly believed he was Alexander. He seemed pleased, lacing his fingers through mine before gesturing to the man beside him. “This is my brother, Matt.” I saw Alexander’s brow twitch at the title, but his expression quickly smoothed over. He gave me a small nod, as if we were meeting for the very first time. I returned the polite greeting, then turned to Matt, my eyes full of affection. “Alexander, I bought you some sobriety pills on the way here. You should take one.” I had said this to the real Alexander many times. I always had something ready for him when he was drinking. After taking him home, I would even make him a warm, stomach-settling soup. Matt looked at the pill in my hand, an eyebrow raised. “Alright,” he said with a grin. “But you have to feed it to me.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alexander, a cigarette held between his fingers, unlit. He was lost in thought. I brought the pill to Matt’s lips and watched him take it. 4. After a few rounds of drinks, someone suggested a game. “King says the Three and Six of Clubs have to kiss for thirty seconds,” one of the guys announced, waving the King card. Matt and I revealed our cards at the same time. “Well, look at that. A perfect match,” the guy said with a wink. He was a friend of the brothers and knew about the switch, playing along smoothly. Matt cupped my chin, his face leaning in. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, there was a loud thud. The coffee table in front of Alexander had been violently kicked aside. He stood up, looming over us. “I’m done. Party’s over.” Matt paused, inches from my mouth, the playfulness in his eyes turning cold. After a long moment, he let go of me and pulled me to my feet. “Right. I forgot you just got back today, Matt. Guess we’ll call it a night.” He was still playing his part, looking at his brother’s thunderous expression. As we were about to leave, I reached over and gently zipped up Matt’s open jacket. “It’s cold out. You just got over your fever, don’t catch another chill.” As I said this, the real Alexander was standing right behind his brother, his eyes burning into me. He had been sick just a few days ago. I was the one who went to his house to take care of him, coaxing him to take his medicine and making him soup and porridge. “Mia, let’s go home.” Matt froze for a second before wrapping an arm around me, pulling me into a light embrace. As we walked away, Alexander, who had been silent, finally spoke. “Mia.” I stopped and looked back at him as if he were a complete stranger. His brow furrowed, his voice deepening. “Who is it that you love?” I lowered my eyes to hide the flash of scorn, then looked up at the man whose arm was around me. “It’s Alexander,” I said, my voice clear. “The man I love is Alexander Malon.” I felt Matt’s expression harden at my words, but he forced himself to keep up the act. 5. Alexander Malon thought I was deeply in love with him. Everyone around him thought so. What they didn’t know was that it was all an elaborate lie, a performance designed just for him. A performance for survival, to crawl out of that sewer of a home. If sickness hadn’t taken my father, I would have grown up surrounded by wealth and love. My mother passed away when I was very young, but my stepmother had always been kind to me. She would bake me sweet cookies, tell me stories, and cover for me when my father scolded me for being lazy. I thought I would grow up happy. But on my twelfth birthday, my father collapsed. He was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. A year later, he was gone. I remember him in the hospital, holding my hand and wiping away my tears. “It’s my fault, Mia. I couldn’t even get you your twelfth birthday cake.” “I won’t be here for your thirteenth. You won’t be angry with me, will you?” I was crying too hard to speak, only able to shake my head through my sobs. I didn’t want a cake. I just wanted my father. If I could, I would have traded every birthday cake for the rest of my life to have him healthy and safe. But the gods didn’t hear my prayers. The final bell tolled. His last words to me were, “You have to live well, Mia. Promise me.” From that moment on, a storm cloud seemed to settle permanently over my life. My stepmother tried to invest what little money my father left, but she was scammed out of everything. Suddenly, I became her biggest burden. My patriarchal grandfather wanted nothing to do with me. My maternal grandparents had passed away long ago. The only person I had left was the stepmother who no longer loved me. 6. “What are you looking at? I’m not raising you. It’s your father’s fault for dying so young!” she screamed, shoving me aside before getting into a taxi without a backward glance. Ignoring my scraped knees, I scrambled to my feet and ran after the car, crying. “Mom, please don’t leave me! I’ll be good, I won’t eat much!” I don’t know how long I ran, but eventually, the car stopped. I saw my stepmother’s eyes, red-rimmed with a mixture of hatred and helpless resignation. And so, we stayed together. Later, she remarried. The man was ten years older than her. That marriage became my personal hell. The very first night we moved in, the man used a key to open my locked bedroom door. When I ran to tell my stepmother, she slapped me. “Don’t you dare spread rumors in this house! He was just worried you’d kick off your blankets. If you try to ruin my marriage, you can get out!” After that, I barricaded my door with my desk every night. I’d stand by my bed, scissors in hand, staring at the doorknob as it turned, again and again. I’d wait for him to give up, for the sounds to fade. School became my only sanctuary. No lecherous stepfather, no indifferent mother who let it all happen. But that sanctuary became another form of hell after a mock exam. I had just been celebrating my first-place rank when I was dragged into the girls’ bathroom and doused with a bucket of cold water. They held me down. I couldn’t fight back. The ringleader was a beautiful transfer student. Her name was Isabelle Cavendish. “It’s your fault, Mia,” she hissed, pinching my chin and looking at me like I was vermin. “Because of you, I came in second. Do you have any idea how badly I was beaten at home?” A slap landed on my cheek. One of her friends started counting, each number a tick of a clock in an execution chamber. It was a long, agonizing wait. When I told the teacher, all I got was, “Isabelle is an excellent student. She wouldn’t do something like that. When classmates have disagreements, you should try to be more understanding.” That’s when I knew. It wasn’t that Isabelle wouldn’t do it. It was that the Cavendish family was too powerful for the school to dare to intervene. As I left the office, I saw a boy walking down the hall, surrounded by a crowd of admirers. From the way everyone reacted, I could tell they were all afraid of him. 7. When I got home, still in my wet clothes, I found the man who was supposed to be on vacation with my stepmother. His eyes slithered over me like a snake’s tongue, making my skin crawl. “Mia, what happened to you?” he said with a sickening smile. “Don’t call me that!” I snapped, desperately searching for my stepmother. “Looking for someone? She’s not here. She’s on vacation,” he said, rising to his feet. “I told her I had some business to take care of and that I’d meet her there.” He walked toward me, step by step. I fumbled in my school bag for the new craft knife I’d bought. “You’re getting more beautiful every day, Mia.” His gaze darkened, and as if he could no longer control himself, he lunged. I slashed the knife across his forearm. Blood welled up instantly. “You little bitch!” he roared in pain. “Touch me again, and I’ll kill you,” I hissed. “I have nothing to lose.” I shoved the knife back in my bag and ran. I had lied. I had everything to lose. I had my life. I had promised my father I would live. Suddenly, I thought of the boy I had passed in the hallway. I thought I heard someone call him Alexander Malon. An idea began to form. I started watching Alexander, gathering every scrap of information I could find. I waited outside the bar he frequented for several nights until I finally saw him, drunk and alone, sitting on a bench outside. He was smoking, lost in thought. I adjusted my school uniform’s name tag, making sure it was visible, then bought a piece of hard candy meant to sober you up. “You look like you’re not feeling well,” I said, approaching him. “This is for hangovers. Do you want one?” Alexander looked up, his dark eyes heavy. When he didn’t answer, I smiled, took his hand, and placed the candy in his palm. “Don’t worry, it’s sweet.” He looked me up and down, then took a drag from his cigarette. “In a school uniform at a bar?” My cheeks flushed. “No, I just… I was worried about you, so I came.” He leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Following me?” I feigned embarrassment and nodded. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to be sick from drinking.” His smile was unreadable. “You like me?” I bit my lip and nodded again. “Yes. I like you. And I’ll be good to you.” His hand, holding the cigarette, paused. He stood up, closing the distance between us, and his fingers brushed against my name tag. “Mia Jiang. Class Three.” “I’ll give you a chance,” he said, his voice casual. Before I could react, he kissed me. Just as my lungs were about to burst, he pulled away. “Remember to breathe next time. Go home. And don’t come back here.” Then he turned and walked back into the bar. The shy, joyful expression on my face slowly faded. I wiped my mouth. Then, a satisfied smile spread across my lips. The plan was a success. 9. The next time Isabelle Cavendish and her friends cornered me, Alexander appeared. The door to the abandoned storage room was kicked open. He stood behind his bodyguards, his eyes radiating a glacial cold. It was the first time I had ever seen Isabelle look so panicked and pathetic. She was forced to her knees and slapped, over and over. “You don’t touch what’s mine, Isabelle,” Alexander said, pulling me into his side and looking down at her with contempt. Yes. What was his. To Alexander, I was nothing more than a pet—an obedient creature who would be good to him. When he dropped me off at home, we ran into my stepfather, who was just returning from the hospital. Seeing me step out of a luxury car, he grabbed a handful of my hair. “You shameless whore! Acting all high and mighty with me, and this is what you are?” “Today, I’m going to—” The rest of his words were choked off as one of Alexander’s bodyguards seized his wrist. He cried out in pain, his grip on my hair loosening. A second later, a kick sent him sprawling to the ground. He was beaten until he was screaming for mercy. He spent the next month in the hospital. I counted the days until my exams, playing the part of the devoted, loving girlfriend. I ignored Alexander’s flirtations and affairs with other women. I didn’t want his love. Slowly, I became the person who had stayed by his side the longest. There were even rumors that he had developed real feelings for me. Until today. Today, they all realized that Alexander Malon was incapable of real feelings. In his eyes, I was still just a pet, something to be given away at a whim. But I didn’t care. Because soon, I would be free of them all. 10. “Mia, you’ve been spacing out this whole time.” Matt’s voice snapped me back to the present. I looked at the upscale apartment building in front of us and feigned confusion. “Alexander, did you move?” Matt seemed annoyed by the name, his grip on my hand tightening. “Yeah. I have a lot of places.” The moment we were inside, he pushed me down onto the sofa. “What were you thinking about just now, Mia?” “I was thinking about what kind of soup to make for you tonight,” I replied sweetly. A flicker of something soft appeared in his dark eyes. “Such a good girl, Mia.” He took my hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “Mia, who am I?” he whispered, his voice husky. “Alexander. You’re Alexander.” “Ow! Why did you bite me?” I suppressed a sneer and feigned pain. His fingers traced the bite mark he’d left on my skin. “Mia, who am I?” he repeated. I bit my lip. “You’re Alexander.” “Ah! You bit me again!” This time, he bit my neck, like a predator marking his prey. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. The doorbell rang insistently, urgently. Matt gritted his teeth and got up to answer it. “What are you doing here?” Alexander brushed past him without a word and strode directly toward me. “The game is over,” he said coldly, stopping in front of me and looking at his brother. “This is no fun,” Matt said with a twisted smile. Alexander didn’t waste any more words. He pulled me up from the sofa. The bite mark on my neck was in plain view. He froze. A storm gathered in his eyes, a terrifying, eerie calm before the tempest. Before I could react, there was a deafening bang. Alexander had slammed Matt against the wall, his hand wrapped around his brother’s throat. “You forgot the rules while you were gone, didn’t you?” he snarled. “Who the hell gave you permission to touch her?!” 11. This was an Alexander I had never seen before—out of control, radiating pure, unadulterated rage. Matt seemed surprised too. After a stunned second, a wicked grin spread across his face. “What’s got you so worked up, big brother? Weren’t you the one who sent her to me?” “Don’t play the good guy now.” The veins on Alexander’s arm bulged. After a tense moment, he silently released his grip. Matt rubbed the red marks on his neck and waved at me. “Hello, Mia. Let’s reintroduce ourselves. I’m Matt Malon.” There was no panic at being caught, no embarrassment for his deception. Just a casual, indifferent smile. Alexander stepped in front of me, blocking my view, his eyes dark and unreadable. I couldn’t decipher his emotions, but I knew exactly what part I needed to play. I looked up at him, tears welling in my eyes. My voice wasn’t accusatory, just a soft, wounded whisper. “Did I do something wrong? Are you throwing me away?” I saw his shoulders tense, his Adam’s apple bob. A moment later, I was pulled into a warm embrace. “I’ll take you home,” he said, his voice low and surprisingly gentle. I’m through this round, I thought with relief. Over Alexander’s shoulder, I saw the smile fade from Matt’s face, his dark eyes becoming bottomless pits as he stared at me. As Alexander led me out, he glanced back at his brother. “I told you. The game is over.” “Stay away from her.” Matt leaned back against a table, his hands in his pockets, that rebellious smirk returning. “Can’t promise that.” A corner of Alexander’s mouth lifted in a look of pure disdain. “You can try.” Matt laughed, a picture of innocence. “Don’t be like that, bro. We’ve played this game before. You never cared.” “Shut your mouth,” Alexander warned. Matt raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Game over. It’s no fun once the secret’s out anyway.” He snapped his fingers in my direction. “Remember the name, Mia. Matt Malon. Don’t get it wrong next time.” Alexander’s patience had run out. He pulled me into the elevator, done wasting his breath on his psycho brother. 12. As we exited the elevator, a car pulled up. Once inside, Alexander immediately raised the privacy divider, sealing us in the back. A sense of unease washed over me. When his hand reached for me, I reacted on instinct, grabbing his wrist with a strength that surprised us both. My eyes were cold, my disgust for his touch unconcealed. It was a self-preservation instinct, honed from years of living in danger. In that silent moment, I realized my mask had slipped. As I scrambled for a plausible explanation, Alexander spoke. “What, are you afraid I’m going to hit you?” His voice wasn’t angry or suspicious. It was laced with a tired, helpless smile. “Have I ever hit you?” I stared at him for a second, then shook my head and let go. He pulled me closer, tilting my head to get a better look at my neck. “Let me see if he broke the skin. I might have to take you for a rabies shot.” Hearing him call his own brother a dog, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. I felt his hand freeze. I looked up. His gaze had shifted from my neck to my face. He was just watching me. I fluttered my eyelashes, feigning confusion. After a few seconds, I heard him sigh, his fingers gently stroking my hair. “Mia, this won’t happen again.” I put my mask back on, rubbing my head against his palm like the docile creature he knew. After what had just happened, I decided it was safer to stick with Alexander as my rope. Matt and his brand of crazy were far too unpredictable. 13. Alexander dropped me off at home that night. The next day, a diamond necklace was delivered to my door as compensation. Then, silence. I knew the drill. Whenever I caught him with another girl, he would send an expensive gift. Like tossing a treat to a pet, a simple offering to smooth things over. I hid the jewelry away with the rest, planning to sell it all for a nest egg before I left. My thoughts were on my future as I handed in my school transfer application. “Mia, the college entrance exams are next semester. Are you sure you want to transfer after this term?” my homeroom teacher asked, her brow furrowed with concern. I nodded. “My uncle has already spoken with you about it. The school I’m transferring to is excellent. They’ve reviewed my grades and competition scores and have already accepted me.” “My uncle feels that as my only remaining relative, he can take better care of me if I’m closer.” “And as you know, my stepmother and her husband… they don’t really look after me.” The teacher didn’t argue. She knew no one had ever come to my parent-teacher conferences. My step-parents’ numbers were always unreachable. After leaving her office, I ducked into a restroom and called back the number that had been trying to reach me. After a short ringtone, a sleazy male voice answered. “Hey, Mia, I got that transfer sorted for you. When are you sending the money?” A cold smile touched my lips. This was my uncle. When my father was alive, he was always sucking up to him. The moment my father got sick, he cut all ties. When I had nowhere to go, he told me to get lost. “You’re not trying to back out, are you? Do you know how many strings I had to pull for you?” “If Kevin wasn’t in such a hurry for the money, I wouldn’t have bothered with your mess.” Kevin, my uncle’s useless son, had gotten into a fight and needed money to pay for damages. “If you hadn’t bothered,” I said with a sneer, “your son would be in jail. Don’t try to act high and mighty with me. I’ll send the rest of the payment when I feel like it.” I hung up, cutting off his string of curses. Sunlight streamed into the quiet restroom. Dust motes danced in the light, spiraling upwards, as if chasing freedom. Just like me.

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I am the other woman’s daughter. For my first ten years, I was my mother’s cherished darling—the apple of her eye. Then the truth crashed down: my biological mother wasn’t the one who raised me, but my father’s mistress. The day I was born, they conspired to swap me with the true Hawthorne heiress. After raising her enemy’s child for a decade, the only mother I knew wished she could cast me into hell. She found her real daughter. They clung to each other, tears mingling. My voice trembled. “Mom…” Her eyes met mine, filled with pure hatred. “Don’t touch me. Don’t call me Mom. Your mother is that woman in prison!” Even my grandparents, who once doted on me, glared with fury. “You stole our granddaughter’s life! Why don’t you just drop dead?” 1 Inside the grand mansion, the strange, cold stares from the butler and the maids were like needles against my skin. My mother’s daughter, the true heiress to the Hawthorne Corporation fortune… had been found. Her life had been a nightmare. She was covered in filth, her small body a canvas of bruises, purple and blue. She was nine, the same age as me, but so gaunt she looked no older than four. My grandparents held her, their bodies shaking with sobs. No one looked at me. I was forgotten, a ghost in the corner. A policewoman spoke with a voice full of pity. “Your daughter was adopted from an orphanage at age five. Tragically, her adoptive parents had a biological child of their own the following year. After that, they neglected her completely.” “They would ‘lose’ her on purpose and never report her missing. She survived by begging on the streets, just to get enough to eat.” “Whenever she managed to find her way back, they would abuse her. It was a vicious cycle…” The more the officer spoke, the more my mother’s face crumbled. “How could they do that to my Gemma?” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “They adopted her, didn’t they? If they wouldn’t feed her, fine, but why… why did they have to hurt her?” “Why?” Amidst the hushed whispers of the adults, I pieced together the horrifying truth. My mother wasn’t my mother. I was the cuckoo in the nest. My real mother was the woman they called the mistress, the homewrecker, the seductress. She had destroyed my parents’ marriage. Then, she had stolen my mother’s real baby and replaced her with her own—with me. My father had taken my mother’s child and dumped her in a trash can, where a kind passerby found her and took her to an orphanage. I had never seen such agony on my mother’s face. She looked as if she were shattering from the inside out. She dropped to her knees, slapping her own face, the sounds echoing in the silent room. “It’s all my fault… I didn’t protect my Gemma!” She looked like a broken doll I once had. Carefully, I crept forward and took her hand, wanting to comfort her as I always did. I couldn’t bear to see her cry. “Mom, please don’t cry,” I whispered. “It hurts me to see you sad…” The familiar touch of my small hand seemed to jolt her. She whipped her head around to look at me. It was the first time her gaze had truly landed on me since the world had fallen apart. Her eyes blazed with a terrifying, absolute hatred. “Don’t touch me! And don’t call me Mom!” she screamed. “Your real mother is that monster who’s going to prison! Do you understand? Go find her in a cell!” “You are not my mother! I have my own daughter!” “You should be in jail with your baby-snatching parents! You should all just die!” She ripped her hand away from mine and, clutching her head, let out a piercing scream. I stumbled backward, my head cracking hard against the sharp corner of a mahogany table. “Mommy—” Her face was a mask of rage. “Get out! Are you deaf? Stop putting on an act!” she snarled. “I am not your mother! Don’t call me that! It makes me sick!” The blood rushed to her head, her body overwhelmed by the violent emotions. She collapsed onto the floor. My grandparents rushed to her side, catching her before she hit the ground. The family doctor was there in an instant, and they all crowded around her, a protective wall I could not breach. I lay on the floor, pain radiating from my head, but no one paid me any mind. Mr. Henderson, the butler, and Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, looked at me as if I were a maggot squirming in the gutter. I remembered how they used to adore me. Before, the slightest scrape or bump would have sent them into a flurry of concern. “Miss Adeline, please slow down…” “Oh, my dear, let Mrs. Gable kiss it and make it better!” Now, I just curled into a ball on the floor, too afraid to move. The servants’ eyes were on me—some filled with disgust, some with hatred, and some with a cruel, satisfied glee. 2 That frail, skeletal girl was my mother’s real daughter. Gemma. She pointed a trembling finger at me and shrieked, “Don’t you hurt my mommy! You made her faint!” She charged at me, ramming her head into my chest. I had just managed to push myself up, but her impact sent me flying backward, tumbling down the grand staircase. I cried out as I rolled, the world a blur of pain and polished wood, from the second floor all the way down to the first. The policewoman quickly stepped in, holding Gemma back. “Sweetheart, calm down. She didn’t touch your mother. She was… she was your mother’s former daughter. She’s only a child; she didn’t mean any harm.” Those words—former daughter—ignited my mother’s rage anew. “She is not my daughter!” she screamed, her voice raw. “Never! Never! NEVER!” My grandmother turned on the policewoman, her voice dripping with venom. “How dare you? What if it was your child who was stolen? Would you be so understanding then? What if you raised your husband’s bastard child with his mistress? Would you be happy about it?” The officer hung her head in shame, mumbling an apology. My cry of pain as I landed at the bottom of the stairs finally drew their attention. My grandmother stood at the top of the landing, looking down at me. The face that had once smiled at me with such love was now twisted into an ugly, cruel mask. “Just the bastard child of a whore,” she spat. “You stole my granddaughter’s life and left her to suffer like this. Why don’t you do us all a favor and die?” The servants’ whispers filled the air. “Poor Mrs. Hawthorne. To pour all her love and hope into raising a child, only to find out she belongs to that… that woman.” “Exactly. The Madam gave her everything, and she wasn’t even her own blood. That’s a pain worse than death.” “Deceived by her own husband, forced to raise his love child while her own daughter was being tortured… who could possibly endure that?” “Do you think they’ll throw her out?” Hearing their words, my mind went blank. Thrown out? A jolt of pure terror shot through me. Ignoring the throbbing in my head and the ache in my limbs, I scrambled on all fours back to my mother’s side. But before I could reach her, a wall of bodies blocked my path. I stared, my expression frozen in a mask of numb fear. My thoughts were a chaotic mess; I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I did the only thing I could think of. I knelt before my mother. “Please… can you not… throw me away?” 3 I didn’t dare call her Mom. I was too afraid it would make her angrier. So I just kept knocking my forehead against the cold marble floor, over and over. I was nine years old. I understood right from wrong, mostly. I’d seen it on TV shows. Everyone always hated the other woman. Everyone always hated the other woman’s child. I was that child. I needed to apologize to my mother. But she took a step back, turning her head away, refusing to even look at me. “I don’t want to see her,” she said, her voice ice. “Get her out of this house.” My head was spinning from the repeated impacts. Through the haze of pain and confusion, someone kicked me hard, sending me rolling into a corner. My head buzzed. My stomach hurt, my arms hurt, my legs hurt. “It hurts…” I whimpered, tears streaming from my eyes. But I couldn’t bring myself to cry out for my mother. I didn’t even dare to look up. I was terrified of meeting her eyes and seeing the hatred burning there. 4 My father and his mistress—my biological mother—had been exposed. My mother had already sent them to prison. My father was left with nothing and wouldn’t be out for ten years. I had nowhere to go. The police were discussing my future with my grandparents. I don’t know what they said, only that they talked for a very, very long time. In the end, though no one wanted it, custody of me remained with the Hawthornes. My father’s parents were long dead, and my biological mother was an orphan with no relatives. My grandparents didn’t show me to a room. No one told me where to go. The princess bedroom that had been mine was being dismantled by a demolition crew my mother had called. She said she never wanted to see that room again. My mother carried my new sister, Gemma, upstairs without a single glance in my direction. My grandparents hurried after them, eager to tend to their newly returned granddaughter. I trailed shakily behind my grandmother, wanting to ask where I was supposed to stay. SLAM. The bedroom door was shut in my face. On the other side of the door, I could hear their voices—a mixture of joyful laughter and comforting sobs. I bit my lip, my heart pounding with fear, and gave a soft, tentative knock. No response. Ten minutes later, I knocked again, even more gently this time. The door flew open. I flinched. It was my grandfather. He looked down at me, his eyes cold. A storm of rage brewed beneath his calm exterior. “Grandpa…” I whispered. “Where… where do I sleep tonight?” “Don’t knock on this door. And don’t you dare disturb my daughter,” he said flatly. “And another thing. Don’t call me Grandpa anymore. We are not related.” I lowered my gaze, staring at the tips of my shoes. He waited until I nodded before shutting the door again. I heard Gemma’s voice from inside. “Who was that, Grandpa?” His voice was instantly warm and kind. “I was just telling a servant to bring you up some warm milk, sweetheart. Drink up, and you’ll grow up big and strong.” I still didn’t know where to go. I just curled up in a ball by the door. I don’t know how much time passed. In a hazy state between waking and sleep, I felt a rough hand grab me and start dragging me across the floor. I blinked my eyes open, disoriented. It was Mr. Henderson, the butler. “Mr. Henderson…” He sneered, the anger in his eyes still burning bright. “Sleep outside. Don’t be an eyesore for the Madam.” I thought he was throwing me out for good. I began to tremble and struggle wildly. But he only dragged me to the back door of the mansion. A wave of relief washed over me. I cautiously curled up behind the large trash bins. “Thank you, Mr. Henderson,” I whispered. He acted as if he hadn’t heard me. With a sharp click, he locked the back door and walked away. Whether it was behind a trash can or on the street, as long as I could be near my mother, I would take it. Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Grandma, Grandpa. Goodnight, Mrs. Gable, Mr. Henderson. Goodnight, Gemma. 5 The late autumn air was turning colder by the day. Hugging my small frame, I curled up behind the trash cans and drifted off to sleep. In my dream, my mother was holding me gently in her arms. The sunlight fell on her face, making her look so soft and beautiful. “Addie, my sweet, sweet Addie,” she whispered. “Mommy loves you more than anything.” The next second, her face twisted into a snarl. “You’re not my Addie! Give me back my daughter!” She shoved me hard. I fell backward into a bottomless pond. The water closed over my head, filling my nose, my mouth. An icy chill pierced me to the bone. I thrashed underwater, trying to scream for help. Mommy, save me… But the moment I opened my mouth, water rushed in, choking me. The weight of the lake pressed down, paralyzing me. I snapped my eyes open. It was pitch black all around me. It was just a nightmare. No. I shook my head. Mom was in it, so it was a good dream. The lights in the backyard were off; there wasn’t a single sliver of light. My head felt like it was full of sludge, thick and foggy. My body felt like it was melting. “So hot…” My hand trembled as I reached up to touch my forehead. I think I had a fever. “Mommy, I don’t feel good…” I whispered, not daring to speak too loud, terrified she might actually hear me. I said it softly, just for myself. “Addie’s only a little bit sick. Just a little bit.” When I lowered my hand, my palm felt sticky. I held it up to the moonlight. It was crusted with dried blood. I couldn’t remember when I’d hit my head. The pale light also illuminated the dark bruises that had blossomed on my skin from my fall down the stairs. A cold wind swept through the yard. My body was a war of fire and ice. My vision blurred, and my consciousness began to fade. Maybe today is just a dream, too. Just go to sleep, Adeline. When you wake up, you’ll be home. 6 I don’t know how long I floated in that darkness, but a shrill scream pierced the veil and ripped through my eardrums. The sound shocked me awake. At the same instant, a bucket of sloshing, mixed leftovers was dumped over my head. “Ah! There’s someone here!” “Is that… the young miss?” I was drenched in a foul-smelling concoction of table scraps. The stench was so overwhelming I couldn’t help but vomit, adding the sharp, sour smell of bile to the air. A maid moved to help me up, but recoiled when she saw the filth clinging to me. She didn’t want to get her hands dirty. Hearing the commotion, my new sister, Gemma, poked her head out the back door. She let out a scream of her own. “Ugh, you stink!” I looked down at the gooey mess on my clothes and felt a hot wave of shame. It was my fault. I had scared her. I forced a placating smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I desperately tried to wipe the muck off myself, but the more I rubbed, the stickier and more disgusting it became, smearing into a foul paste. I saw Gemma’s expression curdle with even more revulsion. A new fear gripped me. If Gemma was disgusted by me, I might not even be allowed to stay by the trash cans anymore. I tore off my jacket and threw it as far away as I could, trying to lessen the smell. Suddenly, my mother’s voice came from behind me. “Gemma, honey, come inside for breakfast. Mommy made you your favorite oatmeal. Come see if you like it.” I froze, my head bowed, not daring to look up. Mom had given her a new middle name: Jewel. Gemma Jewel Hawthorne. Gemma bounced into our mother’s arms. “I love anything Mommy makes!” My grandmother gathered Gemma into a loving hug. “Oh, our little Jewel is so sweet with her words! Just like your mother when she was a little girl.” Through the corner of my eye, I snuck a glance at them. Gemma’s features were a perfect mirror of our mother’s, like she was a miniature version. My gaze shifted to my own reflection in the nearby glass window. No resemblance. Mom had double eyelids; I had monolids. Not even close. My single eyelids were ugly. In that moment, I hated my eyes. Gemma’s voice was sugary sweet. “Of course I’m like Mommy. I’m her daughter!” My grandparents and the maids all laughed, their joy echoing through the morning air. “The young miss is so charming!” “That she is!” The family went back inside, supporting each other, their path filled with laughter. I stared, transfixed, at the window, greedily watching my mother’s reflection until it disappeared from view. My grandmother shot one last look of disgust over her shoulder at me before shutting the door completely. Her final words drifted into my ears. “This is not where you belong. We have no obligation to raise you.” “Go find your father in prison.” “Stop leeching off the Hawthornes.” I lowered my eyes, staring at the ground. In the morning sun, the trash can and I cast two shadows. Long was its shadow, and short were my days.

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At a party with friends, my boyfriend’s “best friend,” a girl named Tia, slung an arm around my shoulders with a theatrical swagger. “So, Ava,” she began, her voice dripping with condescension, “I hear you’re mixed-race. What kind of mutt are we talking about here?” The whole room erupted in laughter, praising her for her “humor.” She brandished her beer bottle, swaying with mock gravity. “You know, these days, when you mix the breeds, the mutts aren’t worth much.” My expression didn’t flicker. I simply raised my hand and sent it cracking across her face. Then, with a sweet smile, I asked her, “So, you purebred bitch, what’s your going rate for a night?” 1 It wasn’t until I moved back to the States that I first heard about her—the girl my boyfriend of three years, Andrew, had grown up with. Her name was Tia. Apparently, she was the pampered princess of their tight-knit circle of friends. At first, I didn’t think much of it. A group of seven or eight guys growing up with one girl? Of course they’d be a little overprotective. It seemed normal enough. So when I was preparing to move back, I even bought a special gift for Tia. After all, if I was going to marry Andrew, I needed to fit into his world, to get to know his friends. People run in packs, right? Everyone has their crew. But I never could have imagined that the very first night Andrew took me out for drinks with his posse would be the night everything shattered. In my mind, the “best friend” Andrew and his buddies described was probably a bit of a tomboy—casually dressed, energetic, with a kind of handsome, girl-next-door charm. The reality, when I finally met her, was a jarring dissonance that nearly broke my brain. First off, this “best friend” was wearing a white button-down, but the top two buttons were undone, revealing a vast expanse of skin. A tantalizing glimpse of a round, full breast was framed by the delicate, suggestive pattern of black lace. And the skirt she wore—a tiny, skintight piece of fabric that barely covered the essentials—was shockingly short. She moved with a bold, uninhibited carelessness, and with every casual swing of her leg, I caught an almost unobstructed view of what lay beneath. Honestly, most women wearing a skirt that short would have the decency to wear a pair of safety shorts underneath to avoid any embarrassing slips. But not Tia. Not only were there no safety shorts, but all she had on was a sheer, black thong. They started a game of Truth or Dare. I’d never played and didn’t know the rules, so I just sat quietly on the side, watching them descend into chaos. Tia lost several rounds in a row and had to take the dare. The penalty was a choice between taking a shot or taking off an item of clothing. Without a moment’s hesitation, she chose the latter. The next thing I knew, her white shirt was sailing through the air, landing directly on my boyfriend Andrew’s head. And that son of a bitch… he instinctively brought the fabric to his nose and took a deep sniff. Only then, like an obedient puppy, did he neatly fold it and set it aside. Now, Tia was left in nothing but a semi-sheer black lace bra, the dark aureoles of her nipples playing a game of peek-a-boo through the fabric. The sight was enough to make several of the men in the room swallow hard. I stood up, poured myself a soda, and pulled out my phone to text Andrew. “Andrew, I’m getting tired. Can we go soon?” I couldn’t stomach the scene any longer. A part of me was already planning a future conversation, a gentle reminder to Andrew that his childhood friend was a grown woman now. There were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, boundaries to respect. After all, Tia would want to get married someday too. I chose to text him instead of making a scene—I always made a point of protecting his image, especially in front of his oldest friends. But what happened next left me frozen, the air sucked from my lungs. 2 The next round, Andrew was the loser. The dare he drew was… to choose a girl in the room and give her a hickey on her chest. A nauseating feeling washed over me. There was something deeply sordid and grimy about this whole night. He had seen my text. I knew he had. But he ignored it, pretending he hadn’t noticed. Now, he picked up his glass, seemingly ready to drink his way out of the dare. But Tia was faster. She plopped herself right into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck and shouting, “What’s the matter with you? Got a girlfriend and suddenly you’ve forgotten your old friends?” “It’s just a hickey!” “Here, let me help you out!” The room exploded into another round of raucous laughter. Andrew’s friends chimed in, their words a mix of mock protest and encouragement. “Come on, Tia, give Andrew a break. His girlfriend’s right here.” “Yeah, stop messing around,” another friend said, reaching out to pull her away. But Tia’s eyes welled up, her lip jutting out in a pout as she yelled, “It’s just for fun! What’s the big deal?” She turned to Andrew, puffing out her chest. “Well, Andrew? You want to do this or not?” And just like that, her D-cup breasts were right in his face. No, not just in his face—they were pressed firmly against it. The tips of Andrew’s ears flushed a deep red. Then, he lowered his head and latched onto that soft, supple flesh. Tia arched her neck back in satisfaction, a series of soft moans escaping her lips as if she was in pure ecstasy. When Andrew finally pulled away, a stark, angry red mark bloomed on her once-pale skin. Everyone chuckled, the air thick with a suggestive, awkward tension, made all the more uncomfortable by my presence. A tidal wave of fury was building inside me, a suffocating pressure in my chest. Stay calm, I told myself. Just hold on until you leave, then you can talk this out with Andrew. But Tia’s next move was something I never could have anticipated. She reached down and gave Andrew a casual, deliberate squeeze right between his legs. “You little devil,” she giggled. “Looks like someone’s grown up.” Instantly, Andrew’s face turned crimson. He shot a panicked, evasive glance in my direction. Tia, however, acted as if nothing had happened. She spun around and sauntered over to me. “Hey, sis,” she cooed, leaning in close. “You’re not mad, are you?” I was already planning my escape, needing to get out and breathe. This whole spectacle was just too much, too grotesque. And a serious question was beginning to form in my mind: were Andrew and I really right for each other? My parents had always had their reservations about him. The Collins family had been on a downward slide for years; their family business was bleeding out, desperate for a fresh infusion of capital. My mother had mentioned it to me in private more than once. But I’d brushed it off for a few reasons. First, our families had been close for generations, and our parents used to joke about us being destined for each other. Second, Andrew was undeniably handsome, exactly my type. And third, I had always stubbornly believed he was a fundamentally decent, gentle, and kind-hearted man. But tonight, he was shattering that illusion into a million pieces. “Listen, sis,” Tia said with a laugh, “Andrew and I go way back. I’m talking ‘since we were in diapers’ back.” “Back then, he’d let me check him out all the time, asking me if he was getting bigger yet.” I remained stone-faced, impassive, and simply pushed her hand off my shoulder. She seemed annoyed by my silence. “What was your name again? Ava?” she asked, her tone sharpening. “Heard you’re mixed-race. So, what kind of mutt are you?” A roar of laughter filled the room. “See? I told you Tia was hilarious! A half-breed… she’s not wrong, that’s a mutt, isn’t it?” My eyes shot to Andrew, my gaze as cold as ice. He was smiling. He actually found this funny. Emboldened by her audience, Tia became even more smug. She propped one hand on her hip, holding her beer bottle in the other, and declared, “You know, these days, when you mix the breeds, the mutts aren’t worth much at all!” Another wave of jeering laughter echoed around us. CRACK! My hand flew, the sound of my palm connecting with her cheek sharp and absolute. Tia stumbled back, clutching her instantly reddening face. “You… you hit me?!” she shrieked. “That’s right, I hit a purebred bitch,” I shot back. “Are you valuable? What’s your going rate for a night?” Before the words had even fully left my mouth, I lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair and swinging my other hand to slap her again, hard, across the other side of her face. In my entire life, I had never been so humiliated. 3 Whatever twisted history Tia, Andrew, and their friends shared from their childhood—the kissing games, the groping, the crude explorations—that was their business. I didn’t understand it, but I could choose to respect their past. After all, I was the one who had been blind enough to choose him. But for them to insult me, right to my face? I couldn’t tolerate that for a single second. It was time to roll up my sleeves and have a “conversation.” I had her pinned, raining down a dozen more slaps, before the guys finally scrambled to pull me off her. But then, that bastard Andrew raised his own hand, and a sharp, stinging pain exploded on my cheek as he slapped me. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth, sharp and sweet. My ears rang with a dull hum, and through the haze, I could barely make out his furious barking. “Ava, are you insane? You can’t even take a joke?” “And you’re supposed to be from a good family!” “You resort to violence at the drop of a hat? What makes you any different from gutter trash?!” “Apologize! Now!” he roared, all while tenderly checking the marks on Tia’s face. The other guys in the room just stood there, their faces plastered with smug, voyeuristic grins, enjoying the show. This worthless piece of trash… he actually hit a woman? The thought was shocking, but then again, maybe it shouldn’t have been. It seemed the gentle, polite man I thought I knew was nothing more than a carefully constructed facade. I’m the kind of person who can stomach a lot of things, but I absolutely refuse to be wronged. I snatched a beer bottle from the table beside me and, without a second thought, smashed it over Andrew’s head. With a deafening crash, the bottle shattered. A thin trickle of blood snaked its way down his cheek. After a moment of stunned silence, he pointed a trembling finger at me, his voice cracking with rage. “Ava, you… you’ve completely lost your mind!” “We’re over! I’m breaking up with you!” I touched my own burning cheek and suddenly, a laugh escaped my lips. “Fine by me,” I said. I turned to leave. Their filthy little circle was a place I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, want to belong. And as for Andrew, I was done with him. All I wanted was to get home, tell my mother everything, and have her immediately halt all partnership talks and prenuptial agreements with the Collins family. But just as I reached the door, Tia’s shrill, piercing voice cut through the air from behind me. “Don’t let her leave!” “Vince, lock the door! Lock it now!” The words were barely out of her mouth before she lunged for my phone on the coffee table and slammed it onto the floor with all her might. It skittered across the room, shattering into pieces. “Andrew, you can’t let her go, and you can’t break up with her!” Tia was screaming now, completely hysterical. “Your families are in the middle of a crucial deal! You can’t let some stupid girl ruin everything!” “Whatever happened here tonight, you can’t let her go out and spread it around!” “Andrew, if a woman doesn’t know her place, you beat her! You beat her until she learns!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Could these words really be coming from an educated, modern woman? Before I could even process that thought, Tia’s voice, now laced with a venomous poison, hissed again. “You’re pathetic, Andrew! You let a woman get the best of you?” “She dared to hit me. Tonight, I’m going to make her pay.” I was almost curious to hear what form this “payment” would take. “You five,” Tia commanded, her eyes glinting with a serpentine hatred, her voice a low, vicious snarl. “You’re all going to have a turn with her. And I’m going to film every second of it. Let’s see how high and mighty she acts after that.” “Besides,” she added, a cruel smile twisting her lips, “with a video like that, the Collins’ family business deal will go exactly how you want it to, won’t it?” “You think she’ll call the cops?” “She’s a darling of the high-society Sutton family. If something like this got out, how could she ever show her face again?” “The best way to deal with a bitch who doesn’t know her place is to shame her, ruin her reputation so completely that she can never hold her head up again!” 4 An unspeakable terror, cold and venomous like a snake, began to uncoil from the deepest pit of my stomach. What kind of monsters were these people to even think, let alone say, such things? The man she’d called Vince was already blocking the door to the private room. We were in a karaoke bar, and like any other, the music in the hallway outside was deafening. Once that door was shut, all hell could break loose in here and no one would hear a thing. You could scream until your throat was raw, and people would just assume you were singing your heart out, never imagining a crime was being committed inside. Tia’s words hung in the air, followed by a greasy voice, slick with amusement. “I don’t know, man. Pretty sure Andrew’s gonna be a little possessive.” “Then again,” the voice continued, “I’ve never had a taste of a ‘mutt’ before.” “You go first, Andrew. Your boys have got your back!” Andrew’s eyes were locked on me as he advanced, step by deliberate step. Then, he started to unbuckle his belt. “Don’t blame me for this, Ava.” His gaze turned dark, his voice chillingly cold. “You should only blame yourself for not knowing your place.” “Tia was just joking with you, and you had to go and make a scene, hitting people.” “If we don’t teach you a lesson tonight, you’ll think you can walk all over us forever.” “Heh…” A low, guttural growl, like that of a starving wolf, rumbled in his throat. There were five of them, plus the maniacal Tia. Six against one. And I was alone, unarmed. But— I have never been one to simply accept my fate. As Andrew’s face twisted into a predatory sneer and he closed the distance between us, my hand shot out, grabbing another beer bottle from the table. CRASH! The bottle shattered in my grip. Without a sliver of hesitation, I lunged, plunging the jagged neck of the broken bottle deep into his abdomen. During my time abroad, the city I lived in wasn’t the safest, so I’d taken a few self-defense classes. My instructor always said that women are at a natural disadvantage when it comes to physical strength. It’s a biological fact. The only way to win is to be unpredictable, to strike when they least expect it. In any fight, speed is everything. Andrew never saw it coming. The strike was faster than lightning. He staggered backward, clutching his stomach with a muffled groan of agony. Blood began to seep through his fingers, dark and thick. The sight of it seemed to stun everyone in the room. For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of fear in their eyes. But Tia, she just got crazier. “What are you all waiting for?!” she shrieked. “Get her! Pin her down! Strip her!” “Who dares?!” I roared back, my voice raw. “Right now, this is just a drunken brawl! But if you lay another hand on me, it becomes a felony!” “This is between me and Andrew!” “It has nothing to do with any of you!” “You all have families, careers! Think about it! Is it really worth throwing your lives away for someone else’s mess?” Doubt flickered across the faces of the remaining four men. I knew if I were some powerless girl with no connections, they wouldn’t have hesitated. They would have done what they wanted and faced no consequences. But I wasn’t. Behind me stood the entire Sutton family. And hurting me meant inviting their full, unbridled wrath. Tia, however, was relentless. “What are you afraid of?!” she screamed. “Once we have a video of her acting like a slut, she’ll have to do whatever we say! We’ll own her!” With every ounce of strength I had left, I hurled the remaining piece of the broken bottle straight at her head. She shrieked and ducked, covering her head with her hands. I seized the opportunity, grabbing every bottle on the table and launching them, one after another, at the men. The room descended into chaos. Glass exploded, spraying shards everywhere. Curses and screams filled the air. “Shut up! All of you!” In the middle of the mayhem, I lunged, grabbing Tia by the hair and yanking her in front of me. I pressed a sharp piece of broken glass to her neck, its edge digging into her skin. By the time Andrew managed to recover from the initial shock of his wound, I had a hostage. “Open the door!” My voice was hoarse, but it was filled with a primal, bloody rage. “Or we all die here tonight!” As I spoke, the glass shard in my hand bit deeper, drawing a thin line of blood on Tia’s throat. 5 But just then, a wave of weakness washed over me. An uncontrollable heat surged from deep within my body, and a primal, unwanted desire began to rise. Tia, though I had her in my grasp, seemed to have lost her mind completely. She was still screaming, “Andrew! I drugged her drink! She won’t last much longer!” My mind was a whirlwind of panic. There was only one thought left: They’re all insane. These people are complete psychopaths! The heat inside me intensified, and the hand holding the glass shard began to tremble. Andrew stared at me, his face a mask of terrifying darkness. The blood on his head had started to clot, but the wound in his stomach was still weeping. The slightest movement sent a fresh wave of red soaking through his shirt. He pressed a hand against the wound, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Ava,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Drop the glass. Get on your knees and apologize to Tia, and we can let this go.” “Otherwise—” His eyes were venomous, his words laced with ice. “You’ll only have yourself to blame for not knowing your place. Tia was just joking with you.” I summoned every last bit of my strength and pressed the shard harder against Tia’s carotid artery. “Go to hell!” I rasped back. “You want me to apologize? In your dreams!” “Andrew! If you love this purebred bitch so much, why don’t you just keep her? Why did you have to drag me into this?!” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Andrew, what are you waiting for?! You coward! You can’t even handle one woman?!” Tia shrieked, fanning the flames. “Are you going to let her walk all over you for the rest of your life?!” Her words seemed to strike a nerve. He actually reached for me, his hand clawing towards my head. I shoved Tia straight at him. Already injured, he stumbled as he tried to catch her. The movement tore at his wound, and a fresh gush of blood poured out as a searing pain ripped through him. “Hey, boss, you gonna handle this or what? Want me to take over?” It was the same greasy voice from before, belonging to a guy named Mark. “Haha, this little ‘mutt’ is feisty. I like it!” he sneered, and then he made his move, lunging to grab my hair. Without hesitation, I swung my fist, smashing it directly into his eye socket. One punch. Two. Three. My instructor was right. Speed is everything. But the damn drug was making me dizzy, my limbs heavy and uncoordinated. If I stayed here any longer, I was done for. The scuffle had brought me closer to the door. I gathered the last of my energy and made a desperate dash for it. Tia’s shrill voice screamed behind me, “Vince! Stop her! Don’t let her get away!” Vince was the one with the wire-rimmed glasses, the one who looked like a quiet intellectual. As I swung a punch at him, he suddenly sidestepped, and in one swift motion, he reached out and threw the door open. “Miss Sutton, go! Now!” The moment I stumbled out into the hallway, my legs gave out from under me, and I nearly collapsed. The door slammed shut behind me with a loud bang. I could hear Tia’s furious, hysterical shrieks from inside. “Vince, are you crazy?! Why did you let her go! Don’t you know—” “Know what? That things couldn’t possibly get any worse?” Vince’s voice, in stark contrast, was eerily calm. “Andrew, you’re a spineless coward! The future of your family rests on your shoulders, don’t you get that?!” “That Sutton girl isn’t just some random nobody. You think she’s going to let you get away with pulling this kind of cheap trick on her?” “Andrew! He’s just trying to screw you over!” Vince’s laughter echoed from behind the door, tinged with a strange mix of despair and resignation. My heart was pounding, a raging fire consuming me from the inside out. I clenched the broken glass in my hand, letting the sharp edges dig deep into my palm. The searing pain was the only thing keeping me conscious. I staggered towards the exit. Thankfully, a line of waiting rideshares was parked right outside the bar.

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The night before our engagement, I found transaction records on Eason’s phone — monthly transfers of half his salary to his fallen squadmate’s widow. Her messages were delicately sorrowful. I showed him the phone and demanded an explanation. He stayed on the balcony all night. At dawn, he came in and said: “I feel a sense of duty toward her. That’s all.” I had waited eight years for him. I wasn’t giving him up over money. So I put on the dress and let the party continue. But during the ceremony, his childhood friend rushed in, yelling: “Eason! Julia — Alex’s wife — she tried to kill herself!” The engagement ring fell and clattered to the floor. Eason bolted out like lightning. Tears burning, I screamed after him: “If you leave today, I’ll consider you married to her in your friend’s place!” He paused for one heart-stopping moment — then left. I stood frozen, the champagne flute still in my hand, ready for a toast that would never happen. The joyful noise of the party faded into a dull roar in my ears. The emcee stood awkwardly with his microphone, utterly lost for words. Eason’s parents, their faces pale with fury, rushed to my side. “Nina, that bastard! I’ll drag him back here right now!” his father seethed, grabbing my arm. I shook my head, setting the glass down on a table. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, just let him go.” My own parents looked even more devastated. My mother burst into tears. “What is this? An engagement party! How could he humiliate our family like this?” I stepped off the small stage. “Mom, Dad, I’ll take you home.” The room was a swirling chaos of confused guests. Leo, Eason’s friend who’d delivered the news, stood wringing his hands, his face a mask of guilt. “Nina… I’m so sorry. It was an emergency with Julia.” I just looked at him, saying nothing. Leo had grown up with Eason. He knew the fallen squadmate, Alex, too. They all treated Alex’s widow, Julia, like family. But family doesn’t try to kill themselves on the day you’re getting engaged. I picked up my purse and walked out of the farcical reception hall. My phone vibrated in my bag, again and again. I didn’t answer. I knew it was Eason. He would explain, apologize, tell me how critical Julia’s condition was, how he had no choice but to go. After eight years together, I knew him too well. He was a man of deep loyalties, and his bond with his fellow soldiers was sacred. Alex had died shielding him. The guilt from that day had been crushing him for three long years. I used to think it was right for him to take care of Julia. It wasn’t until today that I realized some duties cross a line. Back home, I peeled off the elaborate gown and changed into my everyday clothes. I’m a nurse at the Main Military Medical Center. If Julia had tried to kill herself, that’s where she would have been taken. I grabbed my keys and drove to the hospital. In the emergency room, Eason was sitting vigil by a hospital bed. Julia lay there, her wrist wrapped in thick gauze, her face a ghostly white. Her eyes were closed, her lashes still wet with tears. Eason was holding her uninjured hand, his brow furrowed in a tight knot. I walked in. He saw me and shot to his feet, his eyes filled with apology. “Nina, you’re here. I’m so sorry, about today…” “How is she?” I cut him off, my gaze fixed on Julia. “The doctor said the cut isn’t deep. She’s not in any danger, just very… emotional.” I nodded. “Good.” With that, I turned to leave. Eason grabbed my arm. “Nina, don’t be angry. Alex died because of me. I can’t just abandon Julia. She’s all alone, she’s so fragile.” I yanked my hand away. “Eason, I’m not angry. I just find it interesting that our engagement party is apparently less important than a woman you’ve known for three years.” “That’s not it! Nina, you’re the most important person in the world to me! But she was dying!” “The doctor said she wasn’t,” I stated, my voice flat as I met his gaze. Eason’s lips parted, but no words came out. Just then, Julia stirred on the bed. When she saw me, her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Nina… I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I didn’t mean to… I just… I just miss Alex so much.” She started sobbing, her body trembling. “When I saw you two getting engaged, all I could think about was me and Alex… I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry, I ruined your special day.” Eason immediately sat back down, murmuring soothing words to her. “It’s okay, it’s over now. Don’t think about it. Just rest.” He looked up at me, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “See? Look how broken she is. Can’t you have a little compassion?” I didn’t say another word. I just turned and walked away. As the cold night air hit my face outside the hospital doors, I finally noticed that my hands had been shaking the entire time. The next morning, Eason showed up at my apartment with breakfast. I opened the door but didn’t let him in. He held out the bag. “Nina, I’m here to apologize on Julia’s behalf. She had an emotional breakdown yesterday, she didn’t mean any harm.” “Can’t she apologize for herself?” Eason flinched. “She’s still very weak.” “Eason, let’s not talk about her for a minute. Let’s talk about us. What happens now? What do we tell our friends and family?” He was silent for a moment. “We’ll wait a while, let things blow over, and then we’ll have another party.” “Another party?” I looked at him incredulously. “You think this is something you can just… redo?” “What else can we do? It’s already happened. Nina, I know you’re hurt, but Julia just lost her husband, and she almost lost her own life. Can’t we just be a little more understanding?” There was that word again. Understanding. I took the breakfast bag and set it on the shoe cabinet by the door. “Fine. I get it. You should go back. She’s alone at the hospital, she needs you.” Eason let out a sigh of relief, thinking I had given in. “You’ve always had a soft heart. Don’t worry, as soon as she’s discharged, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He left. I picked up the breakfast and threw the entire bag into the trash. Then I went to work. On my way through the inpatient wing, I stopped by Julia’s room. She was propped up in bed, peeling an apple and chatting with the woman in the next bed. She was laughing, her color was good. The moment she saw me, her smile froze, then instantly morphed into a look of fragile vulnerability. “Nina, you came.” I nodded. “Just checking in.” I picked up her chart and flipped through it. “Wound’s healing nicely. You should be able to go home tomorrow.” “Yes,” she said, looking down. “Thank you for visiting.” “Don’t mention it. Just don’t do anything foolish again. Your health is your own responsibility.” She bit her lip, her eyes reddening again. “I know, but sometimes I just… I can’t take it anymore.” I didn’t respond. I put the chart back and left the room. That afternoon, I found my friend who works in the ER. “Hey, Sarah, do you remember that patient who came in for a suicide attempt yesterday? Julia Hayes?” Sarah thought for a second. “Oh, yeah, her. I remember. The pilot who brought her in was frantic.” “How were the wounds?” “Please,” she scoffed. “It was a scratch. Seriously, I’ve gotten worse cuts chopping onions. She lost less blood than a heavy period. It was all for show. We see it all the time.” My heart sank like a stone. That evening, Eason picked me up from work. He was in a great mood, telling me Julia had been discharged and he had gotten her settled. “I booked a table at our favorite place. We’re going to have a nice dinner.” In the car, he held my hand tightly. “Nina, I know this has been hard on you. I know I owe you a perfect engagement party. Just wait, I will make it up to you.” I stared out the window. “Eason, how much money do you give Julia every month?” He stiffened. “Not much. Just… half of my salary.” Eason was an ace pilot in the Air Force. His pay was substantial. Half was not a small amount. “Does she not have a job?” “She used to be a clerk at some company. After Alex died, she quit. Her health hasn’t been good, and she can’t find anything suitable.” “So you’ve just been supporting her?” Eason’s brow furrowed. “Nina, what kind of question is that? I’m not ‘supporting’ her. I’m fulfilling my duty to Alex!” His voice rose. “He gave his life for me! Is it wrong for me to make sure his widow is taken care of for the rest of her life?” I said nothing. The air in the car turned frigid. We ate our dinner in absolute silence. On the way home, Eason’s phone rang. It was Julia. His tone instantly softened. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” “A lightbulb burned out? Don’t you move, I’m on my way over right now!” He hung up and forced a smile at me. “Nina, I’ll drop you at home, then I have to run over to Julia’s. She’s all alone, and she’s scared.” I just looked at him. “Eason, what is she to you?” The smile on his face froze. “She’s Alex’s widow. She’s my squadmate’s family.” “So you’re responsible for her every need for the rest of her life, including changing her lightbulbs?” “Nina!” He was getting angry now. “Why are you being so unreasonable? She’s a single woman, she just got out of the hospital, and her apartment is dark. I can’t just ignore that, can I?” “You could call building management for her. Or have a handyman service deliver a bulb.” “It’s not the same! She doesn’t trust strangers!” I laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Right. She only trusts you.” I opened the car door. “You don’t have to take me home. I can get back myself. You should go. Your duty is waiting.” I got out and slammed the door. Eason’s car idled behind me for a moment, and then, it drove off. In the direction of Julia’s house. After that, we entered a cold war. Eason didn’t contact me. I didn’t contact him. The new house the military had allocated for us was already furnished, just waiting for us to move in after the engagement. I went there alone. The space was huge, and empty. Every piece of furniture was something we had picked out together. I sat on the sofa for a long, long time. A week later, Eason called. His voice was thick with exhaustion. “Nina, we need to talk.” We met at the new house. He looked thinner, with dark circles under his eyes. “Nina, I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair to you lately,” he began. “Julia’s been really unstable. I’ve had to spend more time with her.” I waited for him to continue. “I know you’re upset. But Nina, we’ve been together for eight years. You know me better than anyone. I only feel responsibility and guilt for Julia. Nothing else.” “I know,” I said. He breathed a sigh of relief. “I knew you’d understand.” He moved to embrace me. I stepped away. “Eason, I came here today to tell you… I don’t want this house.” He froze. “What do you mean?” “It’s a military allocation, but the title is in your name until we’re married. I don’t want it anymore.” “Why? This is our home!” “Because I’m afraid that one day, when Miss Julia’s lightbulb burns out again, or her drain gets clogged, you’ll decide that she needs a home more than I do.” Eason’s face changed. “Nina, do you have to talk like that? Do you have to twist the knife?” “Am I not telling the truth?” “That was just a small favor!” “Was running out of our engagement party a small favor? Giving her half your salary, is that a small favor? Eason, you do a lot of ‘small favors.’” He was speechless. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Fine, Nina. If that’s what you think, then I’ll prove you wrong.” He looked me straight in the eye, his words sharp and deliberate. “In a few days, I’m moving Julia in here. She can have the guest room.” For a moment, my mind went completely blank. “What did you say?” “I said, I’m moving Julia in here!” he repeated, his voice rising as if trying to convince both me and himself. “I can’t trust her living alone! She’s always having some kind of crisis! If she’s under our roof, I can keep an eye on her, and you won’t have to worry! See? It solves everything!” I stared at him as if he were a complete stranger. “Eason, you’re insane!” “I’m not insane! I’m thinking clearly! I will not let Alex’s widow be abandoned!” Each word was heavy, deliberate. A profound weariness settled into my bones. “Fine,” I said. “Move her in.” Eason seemed stunned that I’d agreed so easily. I took my key from my purse and placed it on the coffee table. “Here’s your key back.” “From now on, this is the home you share with your squadmate’s widow.” “I hope you’ll be very happy together.” I stood up and walked out of the house that I had once filled with so many dreams. As the door clicked shut behind me, I thought I heard the sound of something shattering inside. My tears finally fell. Eight years. It was over. Just like that.

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It was the year the golden boy heir and his one true love were at their most idyllic. Even after marrying me, he remained celibate, saving himself for her. On our third wedding anniversary, he brought a child home from an orphanage. Before I could speak, a stream of live comments flickered across my vision. “OMG I’m crying, the male lead actually brought home the son he had with the female lead.” “Yep, now the villainess will raise the kid, and the main couple can fake their deaths and escape to live their perfect life together.” “The villainess will definitely raise the boy as her own, give him the best education, and when he’s old enough to inherit the company, the main couple can return for their happy family reunion. It’s perfect!” Just as the comments predicted, the news of the heir’s “death” broke the very next day. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw a fit. I simply rested a hand on my seven-week-pregnant belly and quietly returned the child to the orphanage. I have my own child to think about. Why would I raise someone else’s? 1 “Sienna, I’ve adopted this boy from the orphanage. He’ll take my last name, Rothschild. His name is Michael. You can call him Michael.” Peter Rothschild finished speaking and nudged the small, two-year-old boy toward me. “Michael, say hello to your aunt.” The boy, Michael, bowed obediently, his voice soft and high. “Hello, Auntie!” I was about to respond when the world shimmered, and lines of text began scrolling through the air in front of me. 【OMG I’m crying, the male lead actually brought home the son he had with the female lead.】 【Yep, now the villainess will raise the kid, and the main couple can fake their deaths and escape to live their perfect life together.】 【The villainess will definitely raise the boy as her own, give him the best education, and when he’s old enough to inherit the company, the main couple can return for their happy family reunion. It’s perfect!】 And just like that, I understood. I was nothing more than a side character—the villainess—in a trashy romance novel. Peter and his one true love were the main characters. And their son, this little boy Peter claimed to have adopted, was the story’s young hero. The live feed also told me that tomorrow, Peter would fake his death to run off with his beloved, leaving their son in my care. Well, we’d just have to see about that. The next morning, I was jolted awake by my phone ringing. The moment I answered, Peter’s mother, Eleanor, was on the line, her voice choked with hysterical sobs. “Sienna! Peter is dead!” The comments exploded again. 【Here we go! The main couple is finally together!】 【What are we waiting for? Show us the bed scene!】 【Don’t you dare censor it! I’m a premium member, there’s nothing I can’t see.】 So, it was all true. A small, humorless smile touched my lips. I hung up the phone. It didn’t take long for the comments to confirm that Peter and his sweetheart were already tangled in the sheets, wasting no time at all. Fine. Let them have their fun. I knocked on Michael’s door. “Michael, sweetie, wake up and get dressed. Auntie is taking you somewhere wonderful.” 2 To make it look authentic, Peter had actually gone through the official adoption process with the orphanage. It was easy for me to find the right one. The director looked troubled. “This is…” It was obvious Michael had never lived here before. The place was completely foreign to him. I pushed him gently toward the director. “Peter Rothschild is dead. The adoption is void. I’m bringing him back.” The director hesitated. I pressed, my voice intentionally sharp. “Ma’am, is this not the boy from your records? The paperwork is all in order. Or… should I perhaps take this child to the police instead?” That did the trick. The director scooped Michael into her arms. I patted Michael’s head. “You be a good boy and have fun here, okay?” Michael, who knew neither me nor the director, suddenly burst into tears. “Mommy! I want my mommy!” he wailed. The director quickly signaled for a staff member to take him away, then turned back to me. “Is Mr. Rothschild really… gone?” “He is. An accident. I’m on my way to arrange his funeral now. You should come, Director.” Her face went pale. Before leaving, I handed her a thick envelope of cash. It wasn’t for Michael. It was to ensure she stopped asking questions about whether Peter Rothschild was really dead. On the drive back, my phone was ringing off the hook. Everyone was telling me to come and take charge. Peter’s parents, Eleanor and Richard, had both been hospitalized from the shock. The doctors said his father had nearly had a stroke. It was clear they knew nothing about Peter’s plan. To deceive his own parents just to be with the woman he loved… I wasn’t sure if I should applaud his epic romance or pity his parents for raising such a son. At the hospital, I took Eleanor’s hand. “Mom, I don’t know what to say to ease your pain, but I want you to know you still have me. I’ll take care of you and Dad.” “And,” I added, gently placing a hand on my stomach, “I’m pregnant. Seven weeks.” The news was a powerful balm, easing the sharpest edges of their grief. They wanted to check out immediately, but I insisted they stay. “The baby in your belly is the only heir to the Rothschild family,” they said, their voices firm. “We have to protect you, make sure the baby is born safe and sound.” Naturally, they wouldn’t let me handle the funeral arrangements alone. And naturally, I wasn’t going to tell them that the child in my belly wasn’t Peter’s. In our three years of marriage, Peter had been so devoted to his one true love that we slept in separate rooms. He never laid a finger on me. Choosing another man wasn’t about revenge; it was about fairness. He had his woman, so I would have my man. More importantly, I desperately needed an heir. In truth, I had been planning to ask Peter for a divorce right before this whole charade began. Our marriage was a corporate merger of families, devoid of affection. I had endured it for three years to satisfy my parents. Divorcing after three years was for me, for my future. I just never imagined Peter would fake his own death, abandoning not only his parents but also his son to my care. What did he take me for? A free nanny and a living ATM? If that was how he wanted to play, then he couldn’t blame me for using my new status as the grieving Rothschild widow to take everything that was once his. He drew first blood. I was more than ready to finish the war. 3 After the funeral, Richard and Eleanor immediately transferred a significant portion of the company’s shares to me, along with a handsome sum in cash. It wasn’t so much a reward as it was a way to tie me to them. For some wealthy families, a child is the ultimate bargaining chip. “And when the baby is born,” they promised, “boy or girl, there will be another billion waiting for you.” “Next Monday, Sienna, you will officially take over as CEO. Prepare yourself.” I accepted it all with a gracious smile. The live comments went wild. 【Are these two old fools blind?! The male lead never touched her! She’s carrying some bastard’s child! BASTARD!】 【This villainess is pure evil. A viper. I can’t watch her deceive these poor old people anymore.】 【AAGH, I’m so pissed!】 【The one I feel worst for is Michael! That evil bitch just dumped a two-year-old back in an orphanage!】 【I hope her baby miscarries!】 【Can anyone warn the main couple?!】 I paid them no mind. I turned to Richard and Eleanor. “I’m not yet three months along. Let’s keep the pregnancy quiet for now.” They were even more cautious about this baby than I was, terrified of losing the sole heir to the Rothschild dynasty. Of course, that was assuming Richard didn’t have a secret love child tucked away somewhere, something Eleanor would never, ever allow. Once my belly began to show, I disappeared from public life. I didn’t even go to the office, choosing instead to spend my pregnancy at a private, high-security wellness retreat. During that time, the live comments were obsessed with the main couple’s budding romance. While Peter and his true love were living out their sweet, romantic fantasy, I gave birth to a son. Richard and Eleanor were overjoyed and made good on their promise immediately. To secure my hold on the entire Rothschild legacy, I temporarily gave my son their last name. We called him Noah. To this day, Richard and Eleanor believe Noah is their only grandchild. Along with my own parents, the four of them have smothered him with a grandparent’s affection, spoiling him to the point of absurdity. That’s why, once Noah turned three, I began to step back from work to oversee his education personally. A comment drifted by: 【That kid hit the jackpot. Doting grandparents, and a strict mother paving his entire future for him. Meanwhile, Michael has turned into a total brat.】 【I’m just now realizing something serious… I think the villainess is the real main character of this story!】 【Honestly, I’ve been thinking this for a while. Are the main couple idiots? Forgetting their parents is one thing, but abandoning their own child to the villainess?】 【If they don’t come back soon, Michael’s life is completely ruined.】 【That’s on them. If you don’t want to raise a kid, don’t have one.】 【They probably didn’t want the kid, just the process of making him.】 【They’ve been erased from official records, their fortune has been stolen from under their noses, and they’re still off playing house somewhere.】 Reading these comments, I felt a sense of relief. I truly hoped the so-called main characters would stay lost in their bubble of sweet, sweet love forever. 4 The year Noah turned eighteen, he officially took over the Rothschild empire. By that point, he had already earned every academic degree he could possibly acquire. I’ll admit, it wasn’t just my upbringing. Noah is a genius in his own right. It was also due to the quality of the genetic material I selected—the absolute best of the best. The live comments had become less frequent over the years, but the same people who once cursed me as a villainess were now firmly on my side. Whenever I faced a major decision or someone plotted against me, they would give me a heads-up. Over time, they realized I could see them. Now, we’re more like friends. After eighteen years, the readers have grown tired of the whole “protagonist halo” trope. If the main characters only want to focus on romance, if they won’t work hard or raise their own child, then losing everything is the only logical conclusion. A comment popped up: 【The main couple is coming back.】 【What main couple? They’re nobodies.】 【Peter and Sophie are coming back to reap the rewards. It’s disgusting.】 【Forget the rewards. They should go check on their precious son. He’s a full-blown delinquent.】 I only knew about Michael from the comments. He dropped out of middle school to “make it big” down south, but he found real work too tiring. He bounced between dead-end jobs, never making any money, but he picked up every vice: drinking, gambling, and whoring around. He reveled in the shallow pleasures of his own decay. The Michael of today was nothing but a low-life hoodlum. A few comments still condemned me. 【I still think the villainess went too far. Even if she didn’t want to raise Michael, she should have taken him to his grandparents. He turned out this way because of her. She’s fully responsible.】 I didn’t have to say a word. Others immediately jumped to my defense. 【Shouldn’t his parents be the ones responsible for him?】 【If Peter had taken Michael to his parents in the first place, I’d have nothing to say. But he wanted the villainess to raise his heir for him, then waltz back in and reclaim him? He was just using her!】 I ignored the debate and called for Noah. He sat down in front of me. “Mom, what is it?” I hesitated. “Noah, I need to tell you…” That your last name isn’t Rothschild. That your grandparents have no blood relation to you. My own parents knew, of course. For eighteen years, the three of us have carried this secret. I know how much Noah loves his grandparents, and I didn’t know how to tell him the truth. Noah moved from his chair to sit beside me on the sofa. “Mom, what’s wrong?” I couldn’t find the words. Facing him, I knew I couldn’t just state with conviction that I had done nothing wrong. I… Eleanor swept into the room. “Can’t you two talk later? We need to go.” Noah looked at me, concerned. “Mom…” I let out a long breath. “Let’s go.” Tonight was the grand gala celebrating Noah’s official takeover of the Rothschild corporation. I could tell him after the party. But shortly after the evening began, just as Richard and Eleanor finished their announcement, Peter and Sophie appeared.

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