The year my social anxiety was at its peak, I played mute in the bed of this city’s most notorious billionaire, Julian Forrester. No matter how hard he worked, I would bite my lip and refuse to make a sound. This arrangement worked perfectly until his long-lost love returned to the country and I was handed a severance check for thirty million dollars. In a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, the words just slipped out: “Thank you, boss! You’re too generous!” I slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. A slow, dangerous smile spread across Julian’s face. “My little mute,” he purred, his voice a low threat. “Don’t tell me this is some kind of medical miracle?” … Being a mute canary had its perks. Downstairs, I was exempt from the tedious flattery required of a kept woman. Upstairs, I never had to praise my sugar daddy’s performance. The only real downside? I couldn’t curse him out when he was being a real bastard. Like right now. Julian noticed my mind had drifted. His hand tightened on my waist, and with a single, powerful movement, he flipped me over. He was all teeth and heat, nipping and biting at my skin with a savage intensity, as if he meant to tear the flesh from my bones and devour it whole. Son of a bitch! I screamed internally. On the outside, however, I was the picture of pathetic submission. My eyes welled up, tears tracing hot paths down my cheeks. As the world rocked around me, I found my anchor, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my face against his in a silent plea for mercy. From experience, I knew this look was usually his breaking point. A few more minutes, and he’d be done. But tonight, some demon had possessed him. One after another, he tore open the foil packets. From the bed to the shower, from the shower to the sofa, he ravaged me until the moon was high in the sky. It was only then, finally sated, that he carried me back to bed. My body was a dead weight, every muscle screaming in protest. But just as sleep was about to claim me, a memory of something I’d overheard earlier that day jolted me awake. One of Julian’s friends had stopped by. The study door was ajar, and their voices drifted out. “Gigi lands tomorrow. Are you sending a car, or are you picking her up yourself?” “‘Gigi’ is not a name you get to use,” Julian’s voice was ice. The friend backpedaled instantly. “Right, right, my mistake. Your special name for your special girl…” Though he sounded apologetic, the teasing note was unmistakable. Everyone in their circle knew Julian Forrester had one that got away—a ‘white moonlight’ he could never forget. He’d protected her identity so fiercely that all anyone knew was that she existed. No name, no face, no reason why they weren’t together. Once, while tidying his study out of sheer boredom, I’d found a faded old photograph. In it, a girl in a wide-brimmed hat was turned away from the camera, only half of her face visible. That half-face was an eighty percent match for my own. Suddenly, I was thrown back to the day I first met Julian. I was standing on a street corner, glued to my phone, when a black sedan pulled up. Assuming it was the Uber I’d called, I opened the door and slid in without a second thought. As a person with crippling social anxiety, I had a system to avoid small talk with drivers. I pulled out my phone, which had a message scrolling across the screen in huge letters: [I AM MUTE. PLEASE DO NOT SPEAK TO ME.] It was only as I held the phone up that I realized the man in the driver’s seat was no Uber driver. He was impossibly handsome, with a cool, aristocratic air that made the luxury car he was driving feel like it was miles out of my price range. He stared at my phone screen, his eyes wide, for a long, silent moment before he finally found his voice, asking me where I was going in a rough, hoarse whisper. Seeing that photograph, it all clicked into place. The stunned expression on his face that day wasn’t because I’d gotten into the wrong car, or because of my fake disability. It was because I looked just like her. Back in the study, the conversation resumed. “So, what about the one at home?” his friend asked. “She’s a timid little thing, and a mute. Not exactly someone you can take out in public…” I didn’t listen to the rest. I turned and walked away before the giddy, triumphant laughter bubbling up inside me could escape. Three years. For three whole years, I had played the part. And now, my contract was finally coming to an end. Freedom was so close I could taste it. Sleep was impossible. I turned my back to Julian, unlocked my phone, and opened up the group chat: The Canary Support Group. I’d been added by a friendly girl I’d met at one of Julian’s stuffy business dinners. The ultimate goal for every member was the same: secure a massive payout, achieve financial independence, and retire early. I couldn’t resist sharing my news. Celeste: Julian’s white moonlight is coming home! The night owls in the group exploded. Skye: OMG CONGRATS CELESTE! Bella: Manifesting this! My guy’s first love is supposedly studying in Germany… Amber: I’m so jealous. My guy doesn’t even have a white moonlight (my life is a tragedy). After a flurry of congratulations, Skye tagged me. Skye: @Celeste Julian’s loaded, and he’s always been generous with you. The severance is gonna be huge, right?! She was right. Julian had always been generous. Half a million a month for pocket money. A constant stream of designer bags and jewelry. He’d even tried to give me luxury cars and mansions, but I’d turned them down. A poor girl like me couldn’t possibly afford the upkeep on a supercar or the property taxes on a penthouse. Besides, selling them would involve realtors and paperwork… the thought alone made my anxiety spike. My only hope for a comfortable future was his severance pay. A few million? Or maybe… tens of millions? The thought made me squirm with excitement, twisting myself into a pretzel under the sheets. A moment later, a strong arm pulled me back against a familiar, hard body. “Can’t sleep?” His voice was a low growl, and his hot breath ghosted over my neck. I felt his body stir against me and panicked, pushing him away with all my might. I clasped my hands together under my chin and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to convey with every fiber of my being that I was going to sleep. Right now. “I have to go to the airport tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly soft. “To pick up someone… very important to me.” My eyes flew open. “Do you… want to come with me?” I blinked. Him. Me. Going with him? The replacement, going to pick up the original? Was he trying to give her a heart attack on the spot? I shook my head violently. He studied my face for a moment. “Probably for the best. You’re shy. You can meet her when you’re ready.” He’d always been accommodating. When we first got together, he offered to find me a job. I refused, and he never brought it up again. For a homebody with extreme social anxiety, this life of catered meals and zero responsibilities was something I would actually miss. A wave of melancholy washed over me. Just then, my phone buzzed. A text notification from my bank. “I probably won’t be back tomorrow night,” he said. “I’ll be busy for the next couple of days. Take this, buy yourself something nice.” I ignored him, my eyes glued to the screen. I counted the zeroes. Once, twice, three times. One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred thousand, million, ten million… It was an eight-figure number. He had given me thirty million dollars. Thirty. Million. Dollars. The sudden wealth went straight to my head. All my carefully constructed pretenses shattered. “Thank you, boss! You’re too generous!” The words were out before I could stop them. Silence crashed down around us. Our eyes met. Oh, crap. In my excitement, I’d forgotten I was supposed to be mute. Realizing my catastrophic mistake, I clapped a hand over my mouth and tried to melt into the mattress, pulling the covers over my head. But it was no use. A hand clamped around the back of my neck, and he hauled me out of my cocoon. “My little mute.” Julian’s voice was dangerously calm, but his eyes were blazing. He looked like he was seconds away from laughing, or maybe strangling me. “Don’t tell me this is some kind of medical miracle?” That was, without a doubt, the least funny joke I had ever heard. There was nowhere to hide. To escape his searing gaze, I covered my face with my hands. “Talk to me, little mute.” I shook my head, my voice muffled. “Mutes can’t talk.” “…” Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, a flicker of exasperation crossing his face as he looked at me, flushed red and trying to disappear into myself. “Is there anything you want to say to me?” I bit my lip, confused. Yes, I had lied to him. I wasn’t going to deny it. But the money was already in my account. What else was there to say? I had nothing. But clearly, he expected something. I shifted gears. What did Julian want to hear? What did he like to hear? An idea sparked. “Baby…” I whispered. His breath hitched. I dredged my memory, recalling every trashy romance novel I’d ever read, searching for a line that wouldn’t make me spontaneously combust. “You’re… so big,” I stammered. “So amazing. I like it so much…” I peeked through my fingers. His eyebrows were raised, the hard line of his mouth softened. He didn’t look angry anymore. So, this was the price of my freedom. Fine. It was my last night as a canary anyway. I dug deep, pulling out all the stops. “You were incredible tonight. It was like you were on something… so wild.” His face instantly darkened. “What did you just say? Say it again.” I swallowed hard. What was wrong with that? Did he not like being called ‘baby’? Maybe it was a generational thing. My heart pounded against my ribs. I summoned my courage and tried again. “Daddy was so incredible tonight…” The rest of the sentence was swallowed by his kiss. He captured my flailing hands, guiding them lower, and lower still. In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, his dark eyes seemed to flash green. “Little mute,” he rasped against my lips. “Say it again.” … By the time the sun began to rise, he was still going, energized as if he’d discovered a whole new world. I buried my face in the pillow, my head spinning. Thank God I’d pretended to be mute for three years. If I hadn’t, I would have been dead in this bed long ago. I woke up in the afternoon. My entire body ached, and my throat was so raw from a night of unaccustomed use that I couldn’t speak. The irony was not lost on me. Now I really was mute. I dragged my leaden legs downstairs. Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, saw me, nodded a silent greeting, and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a bowl of warm porridge. Then, just as she always did, she vanished. Julian knew I hated interacting with strangers, so he’d instructed all the staff to make themselves invisible. It was a dream setup for someone with social anxiety. The more I thought about it, the more I realized Julian was actually… a pretty good guy. He was rich, handsome, and considerate when it counted. His only flaw was that he was in love with another woman. “Sigh…” I felt a pang of melancholy that lasted for a whole three seconds. Then my eyes fell on my phone, and I opened my banking app to gaze at the glorious thirty-million-dollar balance. Yeah… maybe I wasn’t so heartbroken after all. My heart was too small; it only had room for money. As for Julian? Well, seeing as he was such a good guy, I decided to help him out. With my conscience clear, I snuggled back into bed and pulled a book off the nightstand. Chapter One: The Return of the White Moonlight. Perfect. Just what I needed. Half an hour later, I was so infuriated by the brainless main characters that I slammed the book shut. I opened my messaging app and sent Julian a single emoji: a kitten peeking over a wall. He replied instantly. Julian: You’re awake? Mrs. Gable has porridge for you. Don’t fill up, I’ll have something nice sent for dinner. Julian: Does it still hurt? Are you okay? My heart did a little flip. A good man asks if you’re tired. A great man asks if you’re in pain. I buried my face in the covers and kicked my feet like a teenager. After composing myself, I sent back a cool, detached reply. Celeste: Mm. He didn’t reply right away, probably busy. I took the opportunity to forward him a series of articles I’d found. Don’t Let the One Who’s Right in Front of You Get Away. Actions Speak Louder Than Words: How to Show a Woman You Care. 30 Ways to Win Her Heart: A Guide to Thoughtful Gifts. After sending about ten of these, I felt I’d done my good deed for the day and settled in for a long gaming session. It was two hours later when I checked my phone again and saw he had replied long ago. Julian: Received. Received? What did that mean? Did he think it was a work email? A moment later, a call came through from Julian’s assistant, Mr. Harrison. Confused, I went downstairs to answer the door. He held out a sleek, black credit card. “Ms. Windsor, Mr. Forrester asked me to bring you this. It’s a supplementary card.” My eyes widened. “For… for me?” Harrison’s usually stoic, robotic expression cracked. “Ms. Windsor… you… you’re not mute?”

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I woke up in a world of interstellar beastmen and immediately adopted two un-shifted cubs I found in the wilderness. After a month of careful nurturing, a rancher came looking for slave labor and set his sights on the beautiful little fox. Just as I was about to hand him over, a series of glowing text boxes materialized in front of my eyes. [DON’T DO IT! DON’T DO IT! THAT’S THE YOUNG MASTER OF THE HOLT FAMILY!] [Side character, keep him! When the Holts come looking for him, you’ll be set for life!] I considered this for a moment, then offered the rancher the other cub—a scruffy, injured puppy. The text boxes went wild. [YES! IT’S THE DEMON KING! THE SIDE CHARACTER IS DOOMED!] [You are looking at the apex predator of the entire Valerius Galaxy, the undefeated champion of 37 consecutive mech league tournaments!] [Enjoy your three square meals a day in prison, side character. At least your future is stable!] Me: …? 1 I froze, my hand hovering in mid-air. The rancher grunted, impatient. “Well, miss? Are you selling or not?” I looked down at Lucky, the little pup in my arms. He was tense, his back arched, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. I’d found Lucky and an elegant little fox, whom I’d named Foxy, on the same day. In this world, un-shifted cubs were still in their infancy. Lucky was a terror. A month in, and he still wouldn’t let me near him. The toys I’d scrimped and saved to buy him were torn to shreds. The food I offered was unceremoniously kicked across the room. Foxy, on the other hand, was a dream. He was soft and sweet, and he’d curl up with me every night, whining affectionately. After a long day of back-breaking labor, coming home to that beautiful little creature was the only thing that made it all bearable. The rancher had offered me ten Alliance Credits a day to work on his farm. As a poor, displaced human, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. As if reading my mind, the text boxes flared to life again. [You’re the ditzy, sweet side character, not the villainess! Don’t do something stupid!] [The real villainess hasn’t even shown up yet! Don’t steal her lines!] [This rancher is a cruel bastard! The hero will be beaten, and he’ll blame you for it. He’ll have you tortured!] My hand trembled. I quickly pulled Lucky behind me and offered the rancher a strained, apologetic smile. “Sorry, he’s not for sale anymore.” I didn’t know if the text was real, but I only had one life to lose. After the rancher stormed off in a huff, I looked at the two cubs. Foxy’s fur was sleek and glossy; he practically radiated privilege. It was easy to believe he was some rich kid. But Lucky… He was still filthy from refusing every attempt I made to bathe him, his fur matted with dried blood and dirt. His grey eyes were so cloudy they looked like they had cataracts. The galaxy’s top warrior? This had to be a joke. Some kind of cosmic prank. “Alright, time for dinner.” The fridge was nearly empty. I scraped together a “salad” of nutrient paste and canned meat. Foxy took one look at it, let out a pathetic whimper, and buried his face in my lap. I knew he found it disgusting. “Sorry, little guy,” I said with a wry smile. “We’ll have something better tomorrow, I promise.” This planet was ruled by beastmen. Mechs and starships crisscrossed the sky. I didn’t understand their technology, their culture, their anything. My only option was manual labor. It seemed that even in another universe, I couldn’t escape a life of grunt work. Foxy finally relented, taking a few grudging bites before retreating to the sofa to sulk. The text boxes reappeared. [Such a little manipulator! I’m melting, and I’m not even the one he’s working on!] [Send him to my house! Immediately!] [Say goodbye to your old mommy, Foxy!] [Where’d the Demon King go?] That last one caught my attention. Right. Where was Lucky? 2 I found him in a dark corner of my bedroom, licking a wound on his paw. I approached slowly, holding out his bowl of food. He looked up, saw it was me, and immediately turned his back. The text boxes were practically screaming at me. [THE HERO IS ANGRY! COMFORT HIM, YOU FOOL!] [He’s mad you were going to sell him!] [I’ve never seen the hero look like that! The side character is TOAST!] I swallowed hard and pushed the bowl closer. “Eat up…” He glanced at it, unimpressed. “There’s nothing else in the fridge,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling pathetic. “I just had a tube of nutrient paste. You and Foxy are still growing, so I saved the canned stuff for you.” The words tumbled out, a wave of self-pity washing over me. “I worked all day yesterday, and my boss refused to pay me. Said the design sketches I did weren’t what he wanted.” Humans were a rare species here, and it was a miracle I wasn’t locked away in some preserve. A long-dead Empress had passed a human protection act, allowing us some measure of freedom. But we were far from equal. Lucky was silent for a moment, then he lowered his head and started to eat. Seeing him so focused, I brought over Foxy’s uneaten portion. “There’s more here if you’re still hungry,” I said. “Sorry for… earlier. I know I’ve been giving Foxy the better treatment, but I’ve just been so broke…” He froze, looking up at me. It was true. I had always favored the sweet, affectionate fox over the grumpy, standoffish pup. He let out a soft snort and turned away again. Such a moody little dog. That night, I tossed and turned. Something had been bothering me, a detail I’d overlooked. The text boxes called me the “side character,” and they called Lucky the “hero.” Didn’t that mean… I should be trying to get on his good side? The text boxes obligingly provided a highlight reel of my past month’s interactions with Lucky. [The side character has seen the light, but it’s too late.] [She only ever gave the hero half a bowl of food.] [The hero’s bed is a pile of old rags.] [She makes the hero take out the trash for her.] [She wipes her greasy hands on the hero’s fur after eating snacks.] Me: “…” Yeah, I was probably screwed. 3 With that grim thought, I tiptoed out to the living room. Foxy was fast asleep. Lucky was not. He stood by the window, staring out into the night. I’d found him in a junkyard, buried under a pile of scrap metal. He’d been near death, and I had the distinct impression he’d been left there to die. He’d been wary at first, but when he realized I meant him no harm, he’d finally passed out in my arms. I’d named him Lucky, but he remained hostile, refusing to eat the food I made, refusing to let me near him. I’d asked around if any of the canine families were missing a son, but no one claimed him. This was a remote, border planet. No one important ever came here. When he saw me, he turned away, trotted over to Foxy’s plush bed, nudged the sleeping fox out of the way, and curled up on the soft blanket himself. The two of them had never gotten along. I’d rescued Foxy from the black market. On a trip to buy medicine for Lucky’s wounds, I’d seen him in a cage, a merchant loudly praising the quality of his fur. He’d been drugged, completely limp. I’d picked the lock when the merchant wasn’t looking, and the little fox had followed me home. Now, as the freshly-evicted Foxy woke up and whimpered, crawling into my lap for comfort, I cooed, “There, there, it’s okay. You can sleep with me tonight.” Lucky was the hero, after all. Foxy couldn’t compete with that. What was a lost bed in the grand scheme of things? We were just the supporting cast. At my words, Lucky, who had been settling down to sleep, shot up. Foxy, nestled in my arms, gave him a smug look and yawned. Lucky’s eyes narrowed. With a growl, he launched himself at Foxy. Me: “?” Why were they fighting? The text boxes, however, were ecstatic. [YES! THE RIVALRY I LIVE FOR!] [I love a good love triangle with a green-tea pretty boy and a grumpy, possessive hero!] [If it weren’t for the actual heroine, I’d ship this so hard!] I had no idea what they were talking about, but I was terrified. Didn’t they realize my life was on the line? If they hurt each other, I’d have to pay the vet bills. If they got into a real fight, I could end up in jail. “Stop it! Both of you!” I scooped them up, one in each arm, and marched back to the bedroom. “You’re both sleeping with me!”

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When my boyfriend ordered me food delivery, he decided to play a stupid prank in the notes: “This is for my e-girlfriend. Could you do me a solid and check if she’s as hot as her pictures? Heard she looks like a total goddess.” Sighing, I decided to play along with his little game. When I opened the door, the delivery guy’s eyes raked over me. “Wow,” he said. “You’re really beautiful.” I gave him a polite “thank you,” but a strange knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I tried to shut the door quickly, but his foot shot out, blocking it. He stared at me, his eyes boring into mine. “Thank you?” he repeated, his voice low. “So… how are you going to thank me?” 1 I swallowed hard, a cold dread washing over me. My instincts screamed that this was dangerous. The way he looked at me was predatory, like he wanted to devour me whole. It was almost eleven at night; if he forced his way in, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Trying to keep the tremor out of my voice, I forced a calm tone. “You’re right. It’s late and you worked hard to get here. I’ll have my boyfriend add a generous tip for you.” I turned my head and called into the empty apartment, “Liam! Hey, that delivery you ordered? The driver is super nice, make sure you give him a good tip!” My boyfriend, Liam, wasn’t here, of course. I was just trying to scare the guy off, make him think I wasn’t alone. My heart was a jackhammer against my ribs, but I managed to squeeze out a smile. “Okay, my food’s getting cold, and you probably have more deliveries. Have a good night.” I pushed against the door again. His foot didn’t budge. His face, pitted with coarse pores, leaned closer. “You think I’m an idiot?” he sneered. “If your boyfriend was home, why would the order have your phone number on it?” 2 I flinched back, cursing Liam in my head. He always used his own number when he ordered for me, then texted me when it arrived. Why, of all nights, did he have to use my number and pull this stupid prank with this specific creep? Gritting my teeth, I improvised. “Oh, that? He wanted it to be a surprise, so he wanted me to be the one to get it. It’s just a little game we play. If he used his number, he’d have to get the door, and that would ruin the fun. You know?” The driver grunted, pretending to agree, but then his other hand braced against the doorframe. I could feel him starting to push, his strength slowly building against mine. Panic seized me. My hands, slick with sweat, were straining to hold the door. If he got it open, I was done for. My eyes widened in feigned annoyance, and I yelled back into the apartment, “Liam, say something! Did you fall asleep?!” A second later, my boyfriend’s familiar voice drifted from the bedroom. “Hey, babe, I’m here. Must have dozed off for a sec. What’s taking so long with the food? Are you still out there?” Hearing his voice, the driver finally relented. He stopped pushing and pulled his foot back. His entire demeanor shifted. “Ha, my bad,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I was just trying to help you carry it inside. Since your boyfriend’s here, I’ll get out of your hair. Enjoy your meal.” A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God Liam was so quick on his feet. We’d been on a video call when my phone had buzzed with the delivery notification. Living alone, I’m always cautious. I hadn’t ordered anything, so I ignored the call and stayed on the video chat. Liam was the one who told me he’d ordered it, explaining his dumb prank and how the driver just wanted to see what I looked like. He’d told the driver he was worried he was being catfished and needed visual confirmation. He said if I didn’t come to the door, the driver would probably keep knocking. He told me not to overthink it, that the guy would just say I was pretty and leave. I can’t believe I bought it. I figured, fine, I’ll play along for a minute. So I opened the door. But this wasn’t what Liam described at all. I was just thankful I hadn’t hung up the call, and that Liam had sensed something was wrong and spoken up. My phone was still in the bedroom, and his excuse about falling asleep made perfect sense. I had tricked him. The driver was finally leaving. As I relaxed my guard and put my weight into shutting the door, his other hand shot out, slapping against the wood. “You’re a fun one,” he chuckled, a sinister glint in his eyes. “Did you really think I was just going to leave?” 3 Before I could even process his words, he started talking, his voice a low, excited murmur. “I was just playing along with you. See how nice I am? This is like our own little game, isn’t it? I’ve never even had a girlfriend before. This is my first time playing something like this.” The door began to creak open as he pried at it. His foot slid back into the gap. The fear was real now, sharp and suffocating. “Get the hell out!” I screamed. “Or I’m calling the cops!” He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he pulled out his phone and showed me the chat log with Liam from the delivery app. My blood ran cold as I saw the messages. Liam had told him everything, holding nothing back. Driver: What if she’s not alone? Liam: She is. I guarantee it. Driver: What if she’s a catfish? Liam: Then do me a favor and teach her a lesson. I knew Liam was just trying to be edgy, fully committing to the stupid “e-girlfriend” prank. But what now? What was I going to do? The gap in the door widened. I told myself to stay calm, glaring at him with all the menace I could muster. “If you touch me, you’ll rot in prison!” His smile just got wider, more grotesque. He waved his phone. “What? I’m just teaching you a lesson, like your boyfriend said. You are a catfish! He said you were a goddess, and yeah, you’re pretty, but you’re no goddess.” His twisted logic left me speechless. The door was opening wider and wider. I couldn’t hold him back anymore. I turned to sprint for my phone in the bedroom. Suddenly, an explosion of pain erupted from my scalp. He had a fistful of my hair, yanking me backward with brutal force. A raw scream tore from my throat. I thrashed, trying to break his grip, but he kicked me hard in the stomach. The strength difference was immense; I was powerless. He started dragging me toward the sofa, and a sob escaped my lips. Liam’s voice was still echoing from the bedroom. “Aubrey! What’s wrong?! I think I heard you scream! Should I call 911? Aubrey, answer me!” I tried to scream back, to tell him yes, but just as I opened my mouth, a hand cracked across my face. The world went white for a second. Tears streamed down my cheeks, my mind chanting one frantic thought: No, please, this is disgusting. My whole body trembled as he tied my hands and found my phone. The video call was still active. Liam’s terrified face filled the screen. Seeing him gave me a sliver of hope. “Help…” CRACK. Another slap, harder this time. My face was on fire. “Aubrey! What’s happening?!” Liam screamed, his eyes wide with horror as he saw my swelling cheek. The driver’s leering face appeared next to mine on the screen. “No… I’m so sorry, Aubrey, this is all my fault!” Liam was sobbing now. “I just saw that stupid prank online, I thought it would be funny… How could this happen?! Hold on, I’m coming to save you!” The driver seemed to be enjoying the show. He didn’t hang up. His fingers moved toward the buttons of my shirt. The violation snapped me back to reality. I spat in his face. “You really think you can get away with this?! I don’t know what gives you the nerve, but I have hidden cameras all over this apartment. Everything you’re doing is being recorded! If I survive this, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in jail! And even if I die, Liam will have the proof to do the same!” I was bluffing, trying to scare him into stopping. It was the wrong thing to say. His hands shot to my throat, squeezing with terrifying force. He was putting his entire weight into it. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even make a sound. My mind went blank. I forgot how to draw air. Liam’s voice was fading, a distant, panicked buzz. “Aubrey! Hang on! The police are on their way! You bastard! You murderer! Let her go!” Was this how I was going to die? Choked to death on my own floor? No. I don’t want this. But there was nothing I could do. Just as I thought it was over, my airway opened. Air rushed into my lungs in a great, heaving gasp, and I broke into a violent coughing fit. For a fleeting moment, I thought he’d had a change of heart, that he was letting me go. But then the searing pain returned to my scalp. He was pulling my hair again, dragging me out the door. This was a chance! As soon as we were in the hallway, I would scream my lungs out. Someone would hear. The next second, a towel was shoved into my mouth, gagging me. My heart sank into a pit of cold, black despair. 4 He dragged me toward the stairwell. Everyone used the elevator; the stairs were always deserted. Help me… Somebody, please, help me… I stopped struggling, my body going limp. All I could do was pray that someone, anyone, would hear the noise on the stairs. His face loomed closer. A chill ran down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut, turning my head away. I had thought that as long as I survived, I could get justice. But as true despair set in, a new thought took root: If he… if he did that to me, I’d rather be dead. Tears streamed from my closed eyes. My heart was a dead, silent thing in my chest. I gave up, lying perfectly still. Suddenly, a bright light flashed across my face, and my heart leaped into my throat. “Who’s there?” a man’s voice called out. The voice sparked a new, frantic wave of resistance in me. I started struggling with everything I had. The driver shoved a few crumpled bills into the newcomer’s hand. “Hey, man. Just pretend you didn’t see anything.” I couldn’t believe anyone would just walk away. I stared at the man on the stairs, my eyes pleading with him, begging him to save me. But right in front of me, he pocketed the cash. “Keep it down,” he said. “And by the way, there are no cameras in the stairwell.” A roaring filled my ears. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. The man continued down the stairs, the crisp sound of his footsteps echoing around me. I didn’t care about the shaking of my body anymore. After a few minutes, the man who had assaulted me stood up. I forced myself to remember that I had to live. I had to survive. I stared at him, my eyes wide, trying to memorize his face in the faint moonlight. But then, a kitchen knife appeared in his hand. In the reflection on the blade, I saw my own tear-streaked face, my hair a tangled mess. My legs gave out. With my hands tied, I couldn’t move. I could only watch as the knife swung down towards me. Drops of blood slid from the tip of the blade. Before I lost consciousness completely, I saw a twisted, eerie smile spread across his face. 5 I finally understood. The monster never intended to let me go. He wanted to rape and kill me from the start. But I refused to accept it! I didn’t want to die like this! Humiliated and forgotten! I want to live! When I opened my eyes again, Liam’s voice was coming from my phone. “Babe, your phone was ringing. Who was it?” I stared at his face on the screen, my mind reeling. I clutched my chest. There was no wound. I realized it instantly. I had been reborn. 6 I scrambled to check my call history. Sure enough, the most recent call was from the delivery driver. I looked up at Liam on the screen. His voice softened. “Aubrey? What’s wrong? You’re looking at me like I’m your worst enemy. Did I do something to make you mad again?” I didn’t have time for him. I grabbed my phone, slid on my slippers, and tiptoed out of the bedroom. My heart pounding, I peered through the peephole in the front door. The hallway was silent and empty. Liam’s voice droned on from the phone. “You’re being way too cautious. Just go get the food. You said you were hungry, so I ordered you something. Hey, maybe the driver will even tell you you’re pretty. What are you so afraid of? It’s just a delivery guy. He’s in a hurry. If you don’t go out, he can’t complete the order on his end.” My nerves were stretched to the breaking point. I couldn’t let what happened before happen again. “Shut up!” I snapped. Liam, offended, abruptly ended the video call. My thumb hovered over the 9-1-1 button. I hesitated. If I called the police and they arrived to find nothing, would they accuse me of filing a false report? But I had to be safe. No matter what, I was not opening that door tonight. I scanned the living room and dragged my small bookshelf in front of the door, wedging it shut. It was the only way I would get any sleep. I turned to go wash my slippers in the bathroom. For some reason, they felt sticky and weird the moment I put them on. I hadn’t taken more than a few steps when a knock echoed from the front door. Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart leaped into my throat. I stood frozen, silent, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to scream, to unleash all the rage from what I had suffered. But I took a deep breath and quietly dialed 9-1-1. The knocking continued, and the man’s disgusting voice filtered through the door. “Miss, company policy says I have to see the recipient in person. I know you’re in there. Please come get your food. I’m a busy man.” … I would not fall for the same trap twice. I was surprisingly calm now. As the knocking grew more violent, a few books tumbled from the top of the bookshelf. I bent to pick them up. That’s when I saw it. A comic book I had never seen before. It had fallen open to a page where a bold title shocked me to my core: THE PSYCHO DRIVER MURDERS. As if possessed, I picked it up. The woman being murdered in the comic… looked exactly like me.

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My coworker and I were browsing the mall on our lunch break. I glanced at a Sephora, and she immediately grabbed my arm, pulling me inside. “Ooh, see something you like, sweetie? Spend a hundred and get forty dollars off. Help me hit the minimum!” She pressured me into piling a bunch of sale items I didn’t want into my basket so we could check out together. The final bill came to $118. My share was $58; hers was $60. “Sweetie, with the $40 discount, my part is basically covered, so we’re even, okay?” she chirped. “Plus, look! There’s a gift with purchase. I’ll chip in a dollar so you can get this $15 shampoo. It’s all yours. See how thoughtful I am?” She nudged me forward. “Go on, scan your rewards card so we can check out.” I gave her an innocent look. “Oh, I’m not a member.” She pouted theatrically. “Then sign up! It’s only five bucks!” She snatched my phone, ready to do it herself. But the payment screen flashed a notification: Insufficient Funds. My coworker, Lillian, froze. She’d already torn open the packaging on her items, confident I wouldn’t back out. 1 Lillian stood there, locked in a tense standoff with the cashier, before finally shooting me a venomous glare and reluctantly signing up for the rewards program herself. She stepped up to the register under the cashier’s impatient gaze. “So, that’s forty dollars off, right?” “Ma’am,” the cashier said in a monotone, “too many of your items are already on clearance. The best we can do is twenty percent off.” “What?! Then I don’t want any of it!” “Ma’am, you’ve already opened the packaging. You have to pay.” Lillian’s face flushed crimson. She whirled around to face me. “Zoe, just use Afterpay. I’ll pay you back later.” I pulled out my phone and tapped at the screen for an eternity, feigning confusion. “After… what? I don’t think I have that.” Lillian’s patience snapped. She grabbed the phone to set it up for me, only to let out a strangled cry when she saw the credit limit it offered. “How is your limit only a hundred dollars?!” “I’ve, uh, never used it before,” I mumbled. “Then request an increase!” “But… it says here any increase won’t take effect until next month.” “You…!” The cashier had seen enough. “Ma’am, are you going to pay or not? I’m about to call security.” “Fine! Can we use her hundred dollars from Afterpay, and I’ll pay the rest?” “No, ma’am. The transaction has to be processed as one payment.” I silently cheered for the cashier. Usually, they could split payments, but she was clearly done with Lillian’s drama. Finally, cornered and out of options, Lillian had to put the entire purchase on her own credit card. All the way back to the office, her eyes were fixed on me, dark and resentful. “Zoe, I remember you used to save money every month. How can you not even have five dollars to spare now?” Her probing gaze scanned me from head to toe, as if searching for a hidden wallet. I showed her the screen of my investment app. “I locked it all up in a high-yield CD. I don’t even have enough for living expenses right now. I have to ask my mom for lunch money.” “You didn’t do that just to avoid splitting things with me, did you?” “Of course not…” Her face instantly darkened, her voice turning sharp and accusatory. “Zoe, if I hadn’t begged our manager, Ms. Evans, to keep you, you wouldn’t have even made it past your probation. And this is how you treat me? You’re going to nickel-and-dime me now?” She raised her voice. “If you think I’m taking advantage of you, then just stop having lunch with me! I only ask you because you look so pathetic with no one else to eat with. And in return, you make a huge scene at Sephora over a stupid discount?” “That was over a hundred dollars! That’s half a week’s rent for me! All because you wanted to go shopping, I helped you get a discount, and then you tried to stick me with the bill!” Her voice was so loud that the entire office had gone silent, all eyes on us. 2 Before I could say another word, a few colleagues drifted over. “Zoe, how could you do that?” one of them chimed in. “You know Lillian’s family situation is difficult. Why would you set her up like that?” “Yeah, Lily, do you still have the receipt? Just make her pay you back for her stuff.” “Honestly, you should just stop having lunch with Zoe,” another added, patting Lillian’s shoulder. “Come eat with us, so she can’t bully you anymore.” Lillian covered her face with her hands, but from an angle only I could see, she shot me a triumphant smirk. I lowered my head, my fists clenching at my sides. It was always like this. Lillian had started at the company two months before me, yet we were both made permanent on the same day. I’d been on my way to ask Ms. Evans about the length of my probationary period when Lillian pulled me aside, a conspiratorial whisper in her voice. “Sweetie, you have no idea. Ms. Evans was about to let you go. I had to tell her that if you left, I’d walk too. That’s the only reason she reluctantly kept you on,” she’d said. “She’s still not your biggest fan, so you’d better not get on her bad side.” It was my first job out of college. I was clueless about probation standards and office politics, so I swallowed her story whole. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I started treating her to lunch, chipping in extra for her share of group orders, and always covering the difference so she could get free delivery on her coffee. She accepted it all without a second thought, as if it were her due. It wasn’t until a few days ago, when I overheard her talking to Ms. Evans, that I learned the truth. She was the one who had failed her probation. She had only saved her job by claiming that if she was fired, I would quit in solidarity. I, on the other hand, had been made permanent ahead of schedule. From that moment on, my guard was up. But she’d been there longer, was better at networking, and was more popular. Every time she twisted the truth, my explanations just made me look like I was being cheap. She delighted in having me as her “lunch buddy,” all because I owed her a “huge favor.” Everyone else just thought she was being kind to the lonely new girl. This time, however, I had reached my limit. With a cold laugh, I fished the crumpled receipt from the trash and slammed it onto her desk. “If you all feel so sorry for her, why don’t you pay for her stuff?” I pointed at the list of items. “I have dry skin. She has combination-oily. Take a good look at this pile of oil-control skincare and tell me who really wanted it, and who got dragged along to help someone else get a discount!” My sudden counterattack left everyone stunned. It was the first time they had ever seen the quiet, agreeable Zoe fight back. 3 Lillian panicked. “What oily skin? My face isn’t oily at all!” But the more frantic she became, the more curious everyone else grew. The coworker who had spoken up for her first glanced at the receipt, then at Lillian’s shiny forehead, and fell silent. Another colleague chimed in, her tone hesitant. “Lily, that’s… not quite what you told us just now.” Lillian’s confidence began to crumble as the looks from her coworkers turned from sympathy to suspicion. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she said, quickly changing her tune and turning to me. “My big mouth got away from me again. I didn’t realize everyone would react so strongly…” She forced a laugh. “It’s fine, everyone, we bicker like this all the time. Don’t be mad at Zoe. Let’s just get back to work.” Normally, this tactic worked. It would make everyone think I had started the fight, and their opinion of me would sink even lower. But this time, no one took her side. After a few awkward chuckles, the small crowd actually dispersed. Seeing that her attempt to guilt me into giving her money had failed, Lillian’s face soured even more. “Zoe, why did you have to embarrass me in front of everyone?” “Whatever,” she huffed. “You owe me an apology. Buy me a coffee, and we’ll call it even.” I ignored her, my eyes fixed on the proposal I was typing. It was due this afternoon, and I had no more time for her games. “Did you hear me? If it weren’t for me begging Ms. Evans, you would’ve been long gone—” I whipped my head around, my glare sharp enough to cut glass. “You want to go ask Ms. Evans right now? See who she really wanted to keep?” I leaned in. “It seems strange for a company to make an underperforming intern permanent ahead of schedule. But someone who barely scraped by after a three-month probation? Now that seems a lot more plausible, don’t you think?” The color drained from her face. Her bravado vanished, and she snapped her mouth shut. If Ms. Evans found out she’d lied to secure her position, even her signed contract wouldn’t save her from the consequences. The rest of the afternoon was blissfully peaceful. I put the finishing touches on the proposal I’d spent two weeks perfecting. But thanks to the dodgy new hot pot place Lillian had insisted on for lunch, my stomach started churning violently. I saved my work hastily and made a mad dash for the restroom. When I returned to my desk and submitted the final proposal, I saw Lillian watching me, a strange, knowing smile playing on her lips. 4 The next morning, I rushed into the office right on the dot, only to be met by our manager’s roar, a sound so loud it nearly rattled the ceiling tiles. “Zoe! In my office, now!” As I dropped my bag, I caught a glimpse of Lillian, sitting at her desk and calmly inspecting her nails, the corner of her mouth curved into a smug, triumphant arc. Ms. Evans’s office door flew open with a bang. She slammed a stack of papers onto her desk. “Explain this. Why is your proposal identical to Lillian’s? And why did she submit hers a full half-hour before you did?” My mind went blank with a deafening buzz. I suddenly remembered running to the restroom yesterday, so rushed that I’d forgotten to lock my computer. And when I came back, Lillian had been darting her eyes away from my screen. Taking a deep breath, I opened my cloud storage and local drive. A dozen documents, all neatly labeled with dates, lined up on the screen. The earliest file was last modified two weeks ago. “Ms. Evans, I wrote this proposal myself. I have backups of the entire process,” I said, my voice steady. “Here are all the daily drafts, including the initial research data, mind maps, and all my email correspondence with the client.” Ms. Evans squinted at my screen, her expression growing darker by the second. Lillian had somehow materialized at the doorway, her voice trembling. “Zoe… I know you’ve never liked me, but you can’t just accuse me of plagiarism…” Her eyes instantly welled up, making her look like a terrified rabbit. I let out a cold laugh. “Accuse you? All my work, every step of it, is right here. Where’s yours?” Lillian’s face turned a blotchy red. She stammered for a moment before blurting out, “I… I don’t keep backups! I just write it all in one go!” “Oh, really? Then why does your ‘one-go’ version contain the same incorrect data points that I hadn’t gotten around to fixing from last week’s draft?” I projected both proposals side-by-side on the large screen, circling seven or eight identical errors in bright red. The office was dead silent. A few coworkers quietly scooted their chairs back a few inches. Ms. Evans slammed her palm on the desk. “Lillian! Last time, at the team-building event, you falsified an invoice. I let it slide as a first offense. But stealing a colleague’s work? Half your salary this month is gone, and you can forget about your bonus! One more time, and you’re fired!” She grabbed her mug and took a long swig, then pointed at me. “And Zoe… great proposal. I’m doubling your bonus. But let this be a lesson. From now on, you take your laptop with you to the bathroom!” Lillian’s nails dug into her palms. With a sudden shriek, she lunged at me. “Zoe, you set me up! Are you trying to ruin my life? You know about my toxic family! I’ll be ruined if I don’t have money!” I sidestepped her easily. “That sounds like a you problem. Maybe your ‘toxic family’ shouldn’t have taught you to steal other people’s work.” 5 The truce between Lillian and me was officially over. Her reputation in the office plummeted. No one wanted to associate with a backstabbing plagiarist. On payday, a small crowd gathered curiously by the finance office. Lillian had been sniffing around all day, trying to find out what I made, but now that she was a pariah, no one would tell her anything. I made a point of unfolding my pay stub in plain sight. With full attendance, overtime, and a doubled bonus, my paycheck had broken five figures. A few friendly colleagues congratulated me. “You earned it, Zoe. You were working insane hours and running all over town last month. I’m not even jealous.” Lillian’s face turned the color of beet soup. She snatched the pay stub from my hand, her shriek nearly piercing my eardrums. “You made this much? I only got two thousand!” She quickly reined in her emotions, forcing a grotesque smile. “Zoe, since you made so much this month, you have to treat everyone, right?” I waved my hand magnanimously. “Sure. The new bistro downstairs is on me. Everyone’s invited… except for Miss Lillian, of course. I wouldn’t dare. Who knows if you’d order a feast and try to sneak it home in your purse like you did at the last team dinner?” Her composure finally shattered. She lunged at me again, ready to claw my eyes out. A few male coworkers stepped in, grabbing her arms as she thrashed, her furious glare locked on me. “This is my bonus you’re flaunting!” she roared. “You stepped on me to get it! You took what was mine! I don’t care—either you treat me to dinner or you give me half of that bonus!” The sheer audacity of it was almost impressive. I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. I opened my expense tracking app and turned the screen for everyone to see. “You want to talk about who owes who? I’ve got a list.” “From last March until now, you’ve mooched 87 lunches, 53 coffees, and 21 shared cab rides off me. I’ll round down for you. That comes to a grand total of twelve hundred dollars. You can transfer it to me now.” Gasps rippled through the onlookers as they saw the itemized list. The whispers started immediately. “She mooched that much? What a parasite!” “So when she told us Zoe was being cheap, she was just straight-up lying?” “Wow, Zoe, you have the patience of a saint for putting up with her this long.” Lillian looked like a chicken being strangled. She stumbled backward, and under a chorus of hisses and boos, she fled into the restroom, shooting me one last look of pure, undiluted hatred. 6 The next morning, all hell broke loose in front of our office building. A haggard-looking couple with faces like crumpled maps had Lillian cornered, shaking her by the arm and screaming. “You deadbeat girl! You promised to send five thousand a month! Where is it?” Lillian was a sobbing, sniffling mess. “I got docked this month… I really don’t have any money…” The woman collapsed onto the pavement, wailing. “Ungrateful child! We would’ve been better off raising a pig! You’re going to quit this job right now and come back home to get married!” Lillian clung to the company’s front door like her life depended on it, a picture of such desperation that even the new interns looked away, embarrassed. Suddenly, she turned on her parents. “This is your fault! It was your idea! Why else would I have stolen someone’s proposal? Now my best friend won’t even speak to me!” she shrieked. “Everyone at work hates me! Are you happy now?! I’m not getting married! This is all your fault!” Then, her eyes found me in the crowd of onlookers, her expression shifting to one of undisguised pleading. A flicker of pity stirred in me. Lillian had often complained about her family, about growing up in a household that blatantly favored her brother. He got the best of everything, while she had to scheme and scrape for every penny of her own. Maybe she truly wanted to change, but the damage her parents had done was too deep, making it nearly impossible for her to form healthy relationships. I hesitated, then stepped forward. “Sir, ma’am, if you don’t stop this, we’re going to have to call the police.” “This is a family matter! Call them, see if we care!” the man sneered, and to prove his point, he kicked Lillian hard in the shin. “You useless girl, if you get your father and me arrested, the first thing we’ll do when we get out is kill you!” Seeing me step in to defend her, Lillian’s expression became a complicated mix of shame and hope. She started apologizing to me profusely while dodging their blows. Gritting my teeth, I took out my phone and transferred half of my newly acquired bonus to her. “You want money, right? Take it and go! And stay away from her!” The couple’s demeanor changed instantly. They exchanged a greedy look, snatched the phone to check the transfer, and stalked away, still muttering under their breath that Lillian had better send the rest next month. The drama was finally over. As the crowd dispersed, Lillian threw herself into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Zoe, you’re too good to me… I’m so, so sorry for everything!” “I’ll never take advantage of you again!” “I swear, I’ll pay you back!”

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The moment I learned my childhood sweetheart, Nolan, was breaking up with me because my family was too poor, a wave of relief washed over me. Thank god I was only pretending to be poor. He had no idea. My mom, worried that our wealth would crush his self-esteem, had made me keep up the charade for years. It was exhausting. And now, finally, it was over. 1 My mom practically arranged my marriage to Nolan when we were kids. She spotted him on a playground one day and decided his tragically handsome face belonged in our family album. He had to be her future son-in-law. To make sure I could win his heart from a young age, my entire family packed up our sprawling penthouse in the city center and moved into a cramped, rundown house in his neighborhood. Just like that, Nolan and I became the quintessential childhood sweethearts. After befriending Nolan’s family, my mom gave up her spa days, her country club lunches, her charity galas. Her new hobby became elbowing her way through crowds with Nolan’s mom at the supermarket to snag discounted eggs and day-old produce. She threw away her life as a socialite, all for the sake of her chosen son-in-law. I once told my dad that if people on the internet ever heard about my mom’s bizarre antics, she’d be canceled instantly. He didn’t say a word, just quietly put away the keys to his Rolls-Royce and pulled out the keys to his electric scooter to take me to school. Yeah, my dad was just like me. We had no say in this family. I’d asked my mom countless times when I could finally be myself around Nolan. Her answer was always the same. “Teenage boys have the most fragile egos, darling. What if Nolan finds out how rich we are and it shatters his confidence?” I didn’t know if Nolan’s confidence would shatter, but my sanity certainly was. One night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I marched into my parents’ bedroom and demanded an answer. “Is Nolan your secret love child from an affair?!” I yelled. “It’s fine if he is! Just let Dad and me move back to the city. We’re willing to accept him into the family!” My outburst earned me a tag-team scolding from both of them. My butt was sore for days. Fine. I’d just have to endure it a little longer. 2 Thankfully, the end was in sight. The day finally came when Nolan’s affections strayed. After school today, he refused to take the bus with me. “Stella, you know my family’s old property got bought out by developers,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Do you have any idea how much we got?” He held up five fingers. “Five million dollars.” He smirked. “So, I won’t be taking the bus anymore. You get what I’m saying, right?” Honestly, I didn’t. I just stared at him blankly. “Okay, cool. We can take a cab together from now on, then!” Nolan made a tsking sound. “It’s not about the cab, Stella.” “Then what is it about?” His tone became cold, unfamiliar. “My mom said we’re moving out of this dump in a few days. My family’s worth millions now. And you? You’re still…” “I’m still what?” He sighed, a picture of put-upon patience. “I didn’t want to have to spell it out for you. Why are you being so dense? I think everyone has the right to chase something better. You can’t stop me from moving on to someone who’s more on my level, can you?” “So, Stella,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Do you get what I’m saying now?” After all that, I finally understood. His family had struck it rich, and suddenly, I wasn’t good enough for him anymore. He was dumping me. “Fine,” I said. He looked surprised. He’d clearly expected a fight, not instant agreement. I decided to press for gossip. “So who’s this ‘better’ person?” “Jane,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with reverence. “At this stage in my life, she’s the one who’s a perfect match for me. Socially, financially… everything.” Ah, Jane. The beautiful, wealthy queen bee of our school. “Okay,” I said, pulling out my phone. “I agree to the breakup, but you have to be the one to tell my mom. In person.” Nolan’s brow furrowed. “Stella, we’re not kids anymore. Do we really have to do that?” My resolve was firm. “If you don’t tell her, she’ll never believe it.” He let out another impatient sigh. “Fine. Breaking up with poor people is always so much drama.” Excuse me? Poor people? Was he talking about me? I dialed my mom’s number. The moment she heard Nolan’s voice, she lit up. “Nolan, sweetie! Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Your mom’s been so busy lately, she hasn’t been answering my calls or texts.” Nolan was silent for a beat, as if wrestling with a sliver of guilt. “Mrs. Evans,” he began, “I’m calling to tell you that I think it’s time for me to focus on my studies. We can’t let ourselves get distracted by romance.” “So, Stella and I have decided to peacefully go our separate ways.” “Peaceful?!” I shrieked into the phone. “Nolan, why don’t you tell her the truth! Mom! His family got a huge payout and now he thinks I’m not good enough for him! He’s dumping me to go after the school queen bee!” Nolan snatched the phone and ended the call. “Stella!” He was genuinely angry with me for the first time I could remember. “Couldn’t you just be classy about this? Did you have to make me look bad in front of your mom?” I just stared at him. What is wrong with you? “Whatever,” he huffed, regaining his composure. “It’s done. I’m officially going to start pursuing Jane tomorrow. Do me a favor and make sure everyone in our class knows that we’re broken up.” Watching his retreating back, I suddenly felt a surge of gratitude for my mom’s insane scheme. How else would I have ever seen his true colors? But an even happier thought bubbled up inside me. I was finally free. No more pretending. And no more damn bus rides. 3 I splurged on an Uber to get home. The second I walked in the door, my mom was on me. “What happened with you and Nolan? Did you two have a fight?” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? His family hit the jackpot, and now he thinks we’re beneath him.” My mom refused to believe it. “Impossible. Nolan isn’t that kind of boy. Maybe… maybe he has a terminal illness! And he’s just making up an excuse to break up with you so he won’t be a burden!” I rolled my eyes. “You need to read fewer romance novels. They’re rotting your brain.” She was undeterred. “We’ll sell everything we have! We have to save him!” she declared, grabbing my arm and dragging me out the door. Nolan’s house was right across from ours, but it took an eternity of knocking before the door finally opened. When Nolan’s mom saw us, a strange expression crossed her face. “Oh, you’re home,” my mom said, completely oblivious. She had a superpower for missing social cues. “We were supposed to go get those discount eggs this afternoon. Why didn’t you text me back?” She pressed on. “Nolan called earlier and said he wants to break up with Stella. I just wanted to ask if something’s wrong.” For some reason, Nolan’s mom’s voice turned sharp and cruel. “What could be wrong? Are you wishing ill on my son? They broke up because he doesn’t like her anymore. It’s that simple.” She started to close the door, then paused. “Oh, and by the way,” she said, a smug little smile playing on her lips. “I forgot to tell you. We got five million from the developers for our old property. We just bought a new Porsche, and next week we’re moving into that new luxury condo complex down the road—the one where units start at two million.” “So,” she finished, her eyes glinting, “let’s just leave the past in the past. There’s no need for us to stay in touch.” The moment the door clicked shut, I could almost hear my mom’s heart breaking. She couldn’t believe she’d been so wrong about them. The final nail in the coffin was when she opened her phone and saw the little red notification telling her she’d been blocked. That night, she shook me awake. “Stella,” she whispered, her voice filled with a newfound determination, “let’s move back to the city. To the penthouse. The private concierge, the high-end spa days… I miss them.” I shot up in bed, a wide grin spreading across my face. My dad and I had been waiting for this day for so long. We packed that night and drove the Rolls-Royce back to our real home. No more pretending. My haute couture dresses, my designer bags, my limited-edition collectibles… I’m back, babies! And I bet you missed me. 4 The next day, I walked into class wearing a pair of limited-edition sneakers. Jane, the school queen bee, let out a derisive snort. Every head in the room turned. “Whoa, Stella and Jane are wearing the same shoes.” “Took me a whole second to figure out which pair is fake.” “Stella’s wearing knockoffs? No wonder Nolan broke up with her. So tacky.” “I heard she was begging him not to leave after she found out about his family’s money.” “She was wearing eighty-dollar sneakers yesterday, and today she’s in two-thousand-dollar ones? Yeah, right.” Jane then held up a hand, putting on a show of magnanimity. “It’s okay, guys. Maybe Stella just doesn’t know any better.” I brushed her hand away. “Who the hell doesn’t know any better?” Her face fell, humiliated, but she quickly masked it with a wounded expression. “Why are you being so mean? If you’re mad because Nolan is pursuing me, I can just tell him no.” What? Who’s mad about that? As if on cue, Nolan descended like a knight in shining armor, ready to protect his damsel. “Stella, we’ve known each other our whole lives. You think I don’t know what you’re like? The only thing you’re an expert on is the two-dollar donuts from the cart outside and the seven-dollar bowl of noodles from that cheap place down the street. What would you know about high-end sneakers?” The classroom erupted in laughter. “I saw her arguing with an old lady over fifty cents once! She’s pathetic!” “Does she think wearing the same shoes as Jane makes her the queen bee? Or is this some desperate ploy to win her man back?” “You can copy the outfit, but you’ll always be the budget version.” The five million dollars had clearly gone to his head. “Since you’re such an expert,” he sneered, “let’s test you. What’s the name of this brand’s founder? What’s his birthday?” The brand name and model were on the tip of my tongue, but he wasn’t asking that. He was asking for the founder’s birthday? My face flushed with anger. Before I could formulate a comeback, he took my silence as an admission of guilt. “Enough,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “I know this breakup has been hard on you.” He pulled a lunch card from his pocket. “There’s five hundred dollars on here. That should last you the rest of the semester.” When I didn’t take it, he shoved it into my hand. “Don’t pretend. I know you need this. Consider it… a severance package.” I rolled my eyes and flicked the card back at him. When I got to my desk, I saw that Nolan had already moved his seat next to Jane, under the guise of “tutoring” her. Yeah, right. We all knew what he was really after. With Nolan gone, no one wanted to sit next to me. But then, a quiet girl from the back of the class, Maya, who was on a scholarship, picked up her things and silently moved to the desk beside mine. As she passed Jane’s desk, Jane leaned back with a smirk. “Just so you know, the whole class hates her now. Sitting next to her is social suicide.” But Maya sat down next to me anyway. When I asked her why, she just shrugged. “I can’t stand watching people like Nolan and Jane use money to bully others.” I felt a little awkward, because in this situation, I wasn’t entirely sure who was bullying who.

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My boyfriend and I both thought the other was a secret trust fund kid playing poor. On the surface, we were the hardworking couple, juggling part-time jobs and classes. Secretly, we were both eyeing the other’s imagined family fortune. It wasn’t until a real heir and heiress from our university made their relationship official that the truth came crashing down. We were both just… actually poor. So, we decided to break up on the spot and divide our business ventures. He took the delivery and personal shopping gigs. I got the class-sitting and homework-writing clients. As for the eight condoms left in the box? We’d use them all in one go. From then on, we would hustle on our own. No more strings attached. 1 The day the heirs to the Kane and Jiang family fortunes announced they were dating, they sent out cash gifts in every group chat at school. Thanks to the lightning-fast fingers I’d developed from buying concert tickets for people, I managed to snag a hundred bucks. “Wow, lucky day,” I boasted to my boyfriend, Fred. “That’s a whole week’s worth of groceries.” Then, something clicked. “Fred… wait. You’re not from that Kane family, are you?” The hand bringing a piece of meat to my plate faltered. His expression shifted. “And you, Melinda… you’re not a Jiang heiress?” I shook my head. His chopsticks retreated. “So… that electric scooter you call a ‘Maserati’… it’s actually just a scooter?” I nodded. “Yeah, but don’t you think it’s cute and classy? It has a certain Maserati vibe, you know?” Then a thought hit me. “And that Porsche key of yours… it’s not really a key, is it?” He hesitated. “It’s a lighter.” Wrong. We were both so, so wrong. We stared at each other, the horrifying realization dawning. We’d both mistaken the other for a secret millionaire playing at being a normie. All those quirky, eccentric moments weren’t clever attempts to hide their wealth—they were just genuinely weird. To break the awkward silence, I shoveled a huge mouthful of noodles into my mouth, only to get a chili flake lodged in my throat. “Cough… cough…” My eyes watered as I choked. A well-meaning waitress rushed over with a soda. “The special combo doesn’t include drinks. That’ll be two dollars.” I waved her away frantically. “No, thanks.” Fred frowned. “Just drink it. It’s on me.” “No, your money is still money.” I ended up chugging an entire pitcher of free tap water to dislodge the errant spice. The waitress watched the whole ordeal, her face a mask of pity. Suddenly, I felt a wave of indignation wash over me. 2 “Fred, it’s my birthday today,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “And you brought me to a restaurant where we have to share a discount combo meal with another couple.” Not only did it not include the cheese-baked ribs featured on their poster, but we had to split every dish that came to the table. The plate of lychee shrimp balls had four pieces; we only got two. We had to share one bowl of noodles, which meant I was stuck using one of those tiny, pathetic “tasting bowls” that everyone hates. Fred reached out, his long fingers dabbing at my chin with a handkerchief he always carried. “Melinda, for my birthday, you bought me a ‘buy one, get one free’ bubble tea.” His usual compliant demeanor was gone. He was starting to keep score. Of course. He wasn’t in love with me; he was in love with the idea of the Jiang family fortune. Fine. Two could play at that game. I held up both hands, all ten fingers spread. “You have so many ‘babes’ in your contact list, I can’t even count them on two hands.” Fred’s jaw dropped. “You know perfectly well those are the actual babies I look after at my daycare job.” I covered my ears. La la la, I can’t hear you. He was getting flustered, and started listing my own transgressions. “Melinda, you made me eat cilantro-flavored ramen for ten straight days just so you could get a free ramen bowl.” “I hate cilantro.” I felt a twinge of guilt, but only a tiny one. “So? You could have just not used the seasoning packet!” The tips of his eyes were red. “Last year, you bought me a down jacket. As soon as it got cold, you’d make me wear it, and then when you got cold, you’d make me take it off and give it to you. The problem is, you’d go out in the middle of winter in just a sweater, and the second we left a building, you’d start shivering! So I was the one left freezing my ass off!” It was because I could only afford one jacket, and I’d bought it for him without a second thought. That reminded me of something. “Every time we got lemonade, you’d take these huge gulps and swallow all the seeds so I wouldn’t have to,” I shot back. “You always let me lick the yogurt lids. You’d even use the empty chip bags to scoop up your rice!” After airing all our grievances, a single, stark realization hit me. This was all poverty’s fault. When we thought the other was faking it, these were cute quirks. Endearing eccentricities. But if we were both genuinely broke? It was just sad. His unconditional devotion was predicated on the condition that it cost him nothing. He could promise me the world, but after graduation, we wouldn’t even have a place to live. “Let’s break up,” I blurted out. Fred froze. “You’re breaking up with me because I don’t have money?” No, it’s because neither of us has money. But I didn’t explain. I just repeated, “Let’s break up.” Right then and there, we divided up our side hustles. He took the delivery and personal shopping gigs. I took the class-sitting and homework-writing jobs. The campus market was huge, so we even drew up a “Post-Breakup Amicable Cooperation Agreement,” promising not to sabotage each other’s businesses and to share any new money-making opportunities. As for our shared streaming subscriptions, we’d alternate days until the end of the month. Same with the meal card we’d loaded together. 3 The result was that for two weeks after we broke up, we were still eating together in the cafeteria. My roommate was baffled. “You guys are having the most peaceful breakup I’ve ever seen.” “You just don’t understand the struggles of the truly broke,” I told her. On the last day of the month, we finally emptied the meal card. Then I remembered something. We hadn’t used up that box of condoms I’d bought. Fred’s nose and the tips of his ears turned bright red. “Well,” he stammered, “we should probably… use them all.” I glanced at the box. There were eight left. My face flushed. “We can’t…” For the first time since the breakup, Fred took charge. He grabbed my hand. “I can.” He was so young and naive. The three-hour motel room rental was nowhere near enough time. We ended up having to book it for the whole night, costing us an extra thirty bucks. The more I thought about it, the more I fumed. It was such a waste. I refused to let him sleep, determined to get our money’s worth. It wasn’t until I nearly collapsed from leg cramps during gym class that I regretted my frugality. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn about using all eight at once. My back and legs ached for three days, and I could barely run. Across the field, I met Fred’s dark, intense gaze. An image from that night flashed in my mind: him leaning over me, his hand gripping my ankle, his eyes filled with a raw, possessive hunger. His chiseled abs, his sharp collarbones, his searing breath… It was just too hot out. I shook my head, trying to banish the thought. There was no time to reminisce about my ex. It was time to make some money. With a dad who couldn’t work, a frail mother, and a grandmother with osteoporosis, I was their only hope. I couldn’t afford any more distractions. The weight of it all would crush me. 4 After the breakup, I poured all my non-academic energy into making money. Sitting in on classes and writing papers was just the beginning. I started organizing group buys for fruit, offering my services as a gaming companion, even doing laundry for other students… College kids were so lazy. The opportunities were endless. There was so much money to be made, but not enough hours in the day. A senior in my club saw how hard I was hustling and took pity on me. “You’re just making pocket change, you know.” She looked me up and down, then nodded. “You’ve got the look. Let me help you land something big.” I clutched my chest. “I’m not selling my body.” She laughed. “You wish! Your club application said you have ‘no special talents’.” Ouch. That’s how I found out she was a semi-famous cosplayer. She booked me for a commercial event, taught me how to do the makeup, and helped me with the costume. Luckily, I was familiar with the character, a support hero named Seraphina, so I didn’t have to do much research. At the event, I was stiffly holding poses for photos when I turned and saw him. Fred. He was wearing the matching male version of my costume, cosplaying my character’s in-game partner. The fans went wild. They kept pushing us together for couple photos. Fred and I could only grit our teeth and pose, our eyes filled not with love, but with a fierce determination to outshine the other. A fan held up a sign: “SERAPHINA & ORION FOREVER.” It was my first time cosplaying, and I wasn’t prepared for this level of intensity. Fred blushed and leaned in closer. I shoved him away. “Nice try, but you’re not stealing my spotlight.” The senior had told me the event organizers gave out extra cash prizes for the best solo shots. Posing for couple photos would just hurt my chances. Looking at the die-hard fans, I decided to go for the jugular. I touched the glowing halo above my head. “You know why this halo is held up with wire?” I asked them sweetly. “Because he’s dead. This one’s a fake.” The fans gasped. “No, don’t say that!” I twisted the knife. “And you know why this character is always young in every game? Because he died young.” “Please, stop!” one of them wailed. “How can such a beautiful mouth say such cruel things?” Their ship shattered, the fans dispersed. Fred whispered in my ear, “Weren’t you the one who always loved taking selfies in my arms? Now you can’t even stand to take a picture with me.” Great. He didn’t know about the prize money. I stayed silent and focused on my posing. In the end, my hard work paid off. I won a two-hundred-dollar bonus. Fred, on the other hand, had left early. I found out later that a talent scout had spotted him and offered him a contract. “Why him and not me?” I grumbled to my senior. “I’m good-looking too!” She rolled her eyes. “Hollywood has plenty of beautiful women. What it needs is more handsome men.” 5 I didn’t see Fred for a long time after that. He seemed to be busy and was rarely on campus. Under my senior’s guidance, I started making some decent money. It was hard work, but not as exhausting as before. As finals approached, I needed more time to study, so I dropped all my off-campus jobs and picked up a shift serving food in the cafeteria. When I saw my roommate, I’d heap two huge spoonfuls of food onto her plate. When Fred showed up, my hand would suddenly develop a tremor. A scoop of braised pork would shrink to two tiny, thumbnail-sized pieces by the time it landed on his tray. I swear, it had nothing to do with the beautiful girl standing next to him. It was just that when he was dating me, all we ever ate was the cheapest mapo tofu. Now that he was with someone else, he was eating braised pork. The injustice of it all! Fred frowned at the meager portion but didn’t say anything. The girl beside him, however, did. “Excuse me, I don’t think that’s a full serving. I’m going to have to report you to the manager.” Up close, her features were as delicate as a doll’s. Amelia. I knew who she was. The daughter of a movie mogul. For the past month, rumors had been flying around campus that Fred was dating her. I gritted my teeth. How could he be so lucky? We started out cosplaying together, and he gets discovered by a talent scout. We both wanted to marry into wealth, and he actually finds a real heiress. Ugh, where was my prince? I’d looked up this apparently blind heiress online multiple times. Okay, she was even prettier in person. A sour feeling churned in my stomach. I wasn’t jealous. I just felt sorry for her. She was wasted on Fred. Seeing my silence, Amelia opened her mouth to speak again. Before she could, I snatched her tray and piled on two massive scoops of braised pork. “This stuff is delicious. This is all that’s left, so you should have it.” She blinked, a look of dismay on her perfect face. “Oh, god, I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “I won’t report you. Please, just… slap me or something.” 6 Right there, in front of Fred, Amelia added me on social media. Fred said nothing. I, on the other hand, had a devious thought: I’m going to steal his sugar mama. So what if Fred was handsome, athletic, smart, and good in bed? I, Melinda Jiang, was no slouch either. If I couldn’t find a prince of my own, I’d just have to steal his princess. I began a relentless campaign of flattery. I liked every single one of her posts. She posted a picture of her morning coffee? I was right there, commenting, “Even your fingertips are a beautiful color.” She posted a selfie? I was the first to comment: “It’s enough to be just a little pretty. You don’t have to be a perfect ten.” She posted a picture of the moon late at night? I was on it in seconds: “Even if I turned off the moon, you would shine brighter.” After a while, Fred couldn’t take it anymore. Fred: Melinda, I never knew you were such a suck-up. Me: That’s because you always licked all the yogurt lids, so I never got the chance. Fred was silent. Half an hour later, a delivery of fifty containers of yogurt arrived at my dorm. Fred: Is that enough for you? Now stick to licking your yogurt lids and leave her alone. Such a classic “overbearing CEO” move. I was green with envy. That kid didn’t even have an official title, and he was already throwing money around like that. This was the same guy who used to agonize for days over buying a single yogurt. Now he was sending his ex-girlfriend fifty at a time without a second thought. It was true what they said: latch on to the right rich family, and you’re set for life. My determination to steal his patron only grew stronger.

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Benjamin loves snakes. As his fiancée, I’m constantly terrified into tears by them. His response is always a sneer. “Putting on a show again.” I’ve tried so hard to conquer my fear. But then, a girl appeared who wasn’t afraid of them at all. She would come and go from his room as she pleased, playing with his little serpent. That was the last straw. I packed my things, ready to call off the engagement, when a line of text flickered into existence before my eyes: [That’s right, our girl needs to run! Don’t let this wicked serpent coil around you.] [LMAO, the male lead is going to lose his mind. After more than a decade, our girl is still terrified of snakes, let alone the idea of him shedding.] [Wait, am I the only one who wants to see our sweet girl get so overwhelmed by him when he loses control that her vision blurs?] A shiver ran down my spine. When I turned back, Benjamin was closing the door behind him, his voice a low chill. “Packing your bags. Planning on running away?” 1 I don’t get it. I woke up at the crack of dawn, packed with the stealth of a cat, and even kept the door shut. So why did Benjamin’s snake still manage to get in? “You… you… stay away from me!” I scrambled back into a corner of the room. The snake, inky black and slender, paused at the doorway, its tongue flicking the air with a soft hiss. For some reason, I felt like it was staring at my suitcase on the floor. And it did not look happy. I made a shooing gesture. “You just stay right there. Don’t move. Okay?” The little snake froze, its grape-dark eyes fixed on me. I let out a breath and quietly continued packing. “So early. Where are you going?” The door creaked open. Benjamin leaned against the frame, his eyes sweeping over me before he enunciated each word with cold precision. “My dearest fiancée.” I jumped like a startled rabbit. “I… I-I’m going on a trip. A vacation.” “With whom?” “A friend. You don’t know her.” He narrowed his eyes and slowly started walking toward me. I instinctively backed away. A flash of annoyance crossed his face. “Afraid of the snake, I get. But you’re afraid of me, too?” Honestly, I wasn’t. But the girl who had been frequenting his serpentarium recently… she made me feel like an absolute joke. I turned my head away, biting my lip to keep from speaking. “Fine.” Benjamin suddenly crouched down and picked up the little black serpent. It coiled obediently around his wrist, its head raised, tongue flickering. His gaze locked onto mine. “Touch it.” Fear flooded my face. The pressure in the room seemed to drop, and Benjamin’s voice was low and insistent. “Touch it. Keep it with you for one night. Do that, and I’ll let you go.” He had a terrible temper, but Benjamin Thorne was a man of his word. Steeling myself, I reached out a trembling hand. The snake darted its head forward, and before I could flinch away, it was slithering onto my skin. “Ah—!” I let out a small cry. The serpent had already wrapped itself greedily around my wrist, its tail brushing back and forth against my pulse point. “Ngh.” At the same time, Benjamin let out a muffled grunt. His expression was dark, but a strange flush was creeping up his cheeks. I stared at him, confused. He scowled, a mix of anger and embarrassment. “Just go. And give it back to me tomorrow.” 2 After Benjamin left, it was just me and the little snake. Aside from the constant, insistent rubbing of its tail against my skin, it was surprisingly well-behaved. “Why do you keep doing that…?” I murmured to myself. The snake just stared. But then, a sentence materialized out of thin air: [Because he’s trying to train you.] ??? Train me for what? Then, another comment appeared: [Sweetie, I dare you to touch the spot where it’s rubbing you. You might get a little surprise.] What was that supposed to mean? My curiosity won out. I gently brushed the pad of my finger against the serpent’s tail. At that exact moment— In Benjamin’s room. “Ngh…” The curtains were drawn tight. He was on the floor, leaning back against his bed, his shirt hanging wide open, the clothes on his lower half in a state of disarray. “Fuck.” The blush on his face was deep, his breathing growing heavier. “Aren’t you supposed to be afraid of snakes?” he growled to the empty room. “What the hell are you touching…?” Touching it, sure. But not even doing it right. 3 The little snake’s tail began to move faster, its tongue flicking in and out in a rapid rhythm. I was getting a little freaked out. With a flick of my wrist, I accidentally sent it flying to the floor. [LMAO HAHAHAHAHAHA—] [I can’t. This guy is so tragic. He’s going to short-circuit from frustration.] [Our girl is so cute. This is his reward, obviously.] A flood of comments scrolled past my eyes, all saying pretty much the same thing. Who was “he”? The snake? The little serpent picked itself up from the floor, its black eyes glaring at me for a few seconds as if it wanted to eat me alive. Then, with a flick of its tail, it slithered to the far side of the room, keeping its distance. It seemed angry. Worried I might have hurt it, I decided to go find Benjamin and ask for a glass tank or something to keep it in. Knock, knock, knock— I rapped on his door. It was shut tight, and no one answered. That was strange. Benjamin never closed his door. He always left it open just a crack, so that every time I walked by, I would just “happen” to catch him changing. Then he’d snort and call me a pervert with no shame. [What a sly bastard, trying to peacock for our girl every day.] [Don’t fall for it, sweetie! I’m telling you, he’s in a dangerous state right now. You should push the door open and go in immediately.] [Yeah, yeah! He’s really suffering in there. You need to go in and help him.] Dangerous? Suffering? And he needed my help? I hesitated, my hand hovering over the doorknob. 4 “What?” The door flew open, revealing a very irritated Benjamin. “Do you have a death wish, knocking like that?” I instantly regretted listening to the comments. So much for checking on him out of the goodness of my heart. But he did look a little off. His clothes were a mess, and his face was still flushed. To put it bluntly, he had the look of someone who had just been thoroughly… satisfied. “What were you doing in there?” I asked, craning my neck to see inside his room. Benjamin blocked my way, his voice sharp. “None of your business.” “And there’s a weird smell,” I said, sniffing the air. “Did your snakes mate in your room?” “Elara!” See? Defensive again. I frowned. “Did you do something bad? Why are you so flustered?” [Oh, girl, stop asking questions. He’s about to explode.] [Let’s get out of here. I’m afraid he’s going to snap and devour our girl whole.] [I’m dying. Every single thing she says is a direct hit. The sly bastard can’t hide his secret much longer.] Hide his secret? Suddenly, it clicked. My face fell. “Luna’s in there, isn’t she?” He froze. I turned away. “You were with her. You didn’t even try to hide it. What do you take me for?” Benjamin was still stunned. When he finally found his voice, he tried to pull the door shut. “No, that’s not…” “Cheater!” I slammed the door in his face for him, spat the word, and stormed off. Back in my room, I slid down against the door, hugged my knees, and buried my face. I couldn’t see the comments anymore. [Oh no, oh no, our girl misunderstood!] [Good! This way she can finally leave him for good.] [Yeah, let her think that. He’s a jerk who can’t talk anyway. Why should our girl put up with him?] […Am I the only one who wants to see him get possessive? If she tries to leave, he should just… force her… hehe.] [Seconded.] I sniffled. When I looked up, only the last comment remained: [So what? As long as that side-piece Luna is around, our girl is going to get hurt. If that scheming bastard can’t fix his mess, he should just get lost.] It was true. Benjamin and I had been engaged since we were children. He’d always loved snakes, and I’d always been terrified of them. Every time he brought one near me, I would run away crying, and he would mock me for it. I tried my best to get over it, but I just couldn’t. Then, I saw Luna for the first time. She was in his serpentarium, wearing a white dress, a snake coiled gently around her. She was smiling. And Benjamin was watching her with a look of pure tenderness. That’s when I finally understood. I was afraid of snakes. But there were plenty of girls in the world who weren’t. 5 Hiss— The little black serpent slowly slithered over to me. It propped up the top half of its body, tongue flickering, its round eyes watching me. I had to admit, it was almost cute. It drew closer. The cool scales brushed against my calf, and I flinched. It paused, waiting until I was still again before continuing its approach. Finally, it coiled around my hand and gently nudged its head against my palm. It was actually quite sweet. I stood up, carefully holding my hand up to support it, and sat back down on the bed. “Okay, time for sleep. Don’t let me roll over on you.” I placed the little serpent on the pillow beside me. It curled into a ball and lowered its head. I turned off the light, leaving a safe distance between us. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought to myself, Maybe snakes aren’t so bad after all. I was completely oblivious to the frantic storm of comments filling the space above my head: [WHOA, what is he doing?! Don’t you dare touch our precious, soft girl!] [Elara, wake up! The snake next to you just turned into a man!] [I heard serpent-people have hypnotic powers… Am I the only one excited to see what happens tonight?] In my dream, an icy touch slithered up from the tip of my toes, along my calf, my thigh, to the very top of my leg. The cold made me twitch, but the sensation changed, becoming less like a touch and more like a cool rope… no, like a snake’s tail, wrapping around my leg, holding me fast. “Mmm.” A frightened sound escaped my lips, and the pressure immediately lessened. A gentle caress, like a reassurance, brushed across my cheek. I opened my eyes. I was in a room of absolute blackness. I sat up, looking around, and called out instinctively. “Benjamin?” “Benjamin, where are you?” The strangest thing happened. The moment I said his name, the darkness vanished. “I’m here.” A familiar voice from behind me. I turned, overjoyed, but the first thing I saw was the little black serpent. I froze. “It’s you…” But it was different. It was enormous. It lowered its head, nuzzling against me like a docile pet. “Benjamin?” No answer. Only the giant snake, tentatively brushing its tail against my calf, like a puppy afraid of being rejected by its owner. “Onyx, how did you get so big?” I reached out to stroke its head. But in the next second, the serpent’s silhouette blurred, morphing into a tall, naked, beautiful man. He covered my eyes with his hand, but through the gaps between his fingers, I could still see his face. It was Benjamin. My eyes went wide. “You… you’re…” “Shh.” I had never seen this side of him. His eyes were soft, but beneath that tenderness was a deep, simmering desire. He took my hand and guided it to his neck. “Are you still afraid?” In a daze, I felt as if my hand wasn’t wrapped around his throat, but around a serpent’s most vulnerable point. “If a snake is going to bite, you choke it. Don’t be afraid of it,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. I tried to pull my hand back, but he held it fast. All I could do was whimper. “Don’t…” Benjamin’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He leaned closer. “Don’t what?” A heat that started at my ears spread through my entire body. I felt like I was on fire. “You don’t like it?” he pressed, relentless, guiding my hand lower and lower. “When I called you a pervert… you’re telling me you never took a good look? Every time you walked past my room, you didn’t glance through the crack in the door? Are you trying to leave me because you hate me… or because you like me?” I couldn’t think anymore. I could only cry. “Stop, please don’t do this, Benjamin…” “Stop being afraid of me,” his voice grew rougher, almost a plea, as he held my hand against him. “Touch me. Please. Don’t be afraid of me.” 6 I woke with a start, my mind still reeling from the dream. I stared blankly at the ceiling. “Benjamin…” I instinctively checked my clothes. My pajamas were soaked with sweat, my hair stuck to my forehead. I looked like I’d just woken up from a very vivid, very unsatisfying dream. Hiss— On the pillow next to me, the little black serpent uncoiled its body, stretching like a sleepy kitten. It looked like it had just woken up too, its dark eyes blinking at me. For some reason, my face burned. I felt a wave of shame, like a child caught doing something illicit. I scrambled out of bed, pretending to be busy as I gathered fresh clothes for a shower. My bathroom was being renovated, so I had to use the main one down the hall. As I headed out, Benjamin was just coming out of that very bathroom. “You…” He had nothing on but a towel wrapped around his waist. His gorgeous, naked torso was identical to the one in my dream. My brain shut down. “Put… put… put some clothes on!” Benjamin just clicked his tongue. But an unnatural flush crept up his neck. “You sneak peeks at me every day, and now you’re playing coy? A little late for that, isn’t it?” It was only then that the comments reappeared. [Guys, what happened? I couldn’t post anything all night!] [Yeah, it’s like we were blocked out when the snake was doing his hypnosis thing.] [Seriously, author, what could possibly be off-limits to us VIP readers? One star!!!] I clutched my clothes to my chest, fidgeting. “I need to take a shower. Could you please leave?” Benjamin glanced at me. “You’re all sweaty. Dreaming of me last night?” “Get out!” I snapped, mortified, and dashed into the bathroom. He didn’t tease me further. As I was closing the door, he asked, his voice casual, “Still afraid of snakes?” I paused, the dream flashing through my mind. “Yes,” I mumbled awkwardly. “Terrified.” As the door clicked shut, I thought I heard him let out a soft, helpless laugh.

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The year I turned eight, my brother Leo fell from the scaffolding of an abandoned construction site. I’d sprinted over and become his human cushion. He walked away without a scratch. I ended up with a brain injury, a vegetable. The year I turned eighteen, I finally woke up. But for the inheritance of a girl who wasn’t even family, my brother pushed me from that same rooftop, leaving me to splatter on the concrete below. But I was reborn. And this time, I could see the live comments floating in mid-air: [THE MALE LEAD IS REBORN AT AGE EIGHT! LAST TIME, HE FELL FROM THE FIFTH FLOOR AND PUT THE SIDE CHARACTER IN A COMA. THIS TIME, HE’S TRYING THE SIXTH. LET’S SEE IF HE CAN KILL HER OUTRIGHT!] [ONCE THE SIDE CHARACTER IS DEAD, THE MALE LEAD CAN BRING THE HEROINE HOME FROM THE ORPHANAGE TO TAKE HER PLACE! THIS TIME, NO ONE CAN STOP THEIR TWISTED STEP-SIBLING ROMANCE AS THEY INHERIT THE BILLIONAIRE’S FORTUNE AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER!] Is that so? I tilted my head, a slow smile spreading across my face as I mouthed a silent message to my brother, who was now plummeting through the air. “Brother, if you die, I’ll find someone to replace you, too.” 1 I had just rounded the street corner when a frantic scream ripped through the quiet air, slamming into my eardrums. “Faye! Help me!” I looked up. There, on the skeletal frame of the derelict building, was Leo, teetering on the edge of the sixth-floor scaffolding with half his body hanging over the abyss. His face was ghostly pale. One hand gripped a rusted steel pipe behind him, his knuckles white and twisted from the strain. With his other hand, he waved at me, a desperate, flailing gesture. If I hadn’t been reborn… If I hadn’t seen the comments flickering beside him… I would have stupidly run to save him all over again. In my last life, I took the full impact of his fall. A spike of searing pain, followed by a decade of limitless, suffocating darkness. When I finally woke up at eighteen, I wasn’t greeted by a new beginning, but by Leo’s monstrous grin and the sweetly poisonous whispers of Mia, the girl he’d brought home. “Push her, Leo,” she’d urged. “Then the family fortune is all yours!” And now, here he was. Leo seemed a little too confident in his “protagonist plot armor.” But hey, the stage was set. Who was I, the lowly side character, to refuse my part? I cleared my throat and pitched my voice high with panic. “Leo! Don’t move!” I threw myself forward, deliberately stumbling toward the patch of ground directly beneath him. As my foot caught on uneven ground, I sent a loose rock skittering right into the center of his landing zone. I scrambled back up, my movements clumsy and frantic, every step feeling like I was wading through cotton, as if my legs could give out at any moment. A babble of panicked cries spilled from my lips. “Leo… just hold on… I’m coming… don’t be scared…” As I lurched forward, another comment scrolled across my vision: [THE MALE LEAD’S ACTING IS TOP-TIER! THE SIDE CHARACTER TOTALLY FELL FOR IT!] [LMAO, JUMP ALREADY! KILL HER SO WE CAN BRING OUR HEROINE HOME! MIA IS WAY MORE LIKEABLE. SHE’LL REPLACE FAYE IN HER PARENTS’ HEARTS IN NO TIME!] [PLUS, THEY’LL SAVE A DECADE OF MEDICAL BILLS. THEY CAN BUY OUR HEROINE A NEW PURSE WITH THAT CASH!] A smirk played on my lips. My eyes locked onto a spot about two feet away from Leo’s direct fall line—an old, open drainage ditch. It was filled with construction debris, but it would make a perfect cushion. It was also the stage for the most important performance of my new life. I’m not heading to the afterlife today. Let’s give that ticket to their precious male lead. I just hope they don’t cry too hard when it happens. Leo, however, clearly hadn’t expected me to be so slow; I still hadn’t reached the spot directly beneath him. His composure was cracking, the carefully crafted terror on his face melting into raw impatience. He even had the energy to scream at me. “Faye, what the hell are you doing? Hurry up!” And in the next instant… CRACK. The rotted plank beneath his feet gave way without warning. “AHHH!” This time, his scream was gut-wrenchingly real. As he plunged downward, his hands scrabbled instinctively, catching hold of another rusty pipe. The sharp, flaking metal tore a long gash in his sleeve, and blood began to well up immediately. Pure panic finally took him. His eyes, sharp and venomous, shot toward me. “Hurry! One more step! Right there! Don’t move! I’m jumping now!” I instantly obeyed, planting my feet on the ground and nodding frantically, tears streaming down my face. “I’m here, Leo! I’m ready!” He let go. The moment he leaped, I threw myself sideways, rolling hard. My back slammed into the pile of broken concrete and rubble in the ditch. A split second after the resounding THUD of his body hitting the ground, I heard the distinct, sickening snap of bone. Ignoring the shooting pains across my own body, I pushed myself up and looked at Leo. He’d gotten lucky. His head had met a small, sharp stone on the concrete, and a dark stain of blood was already blooming around him. He stared at me, his eyes wide with horror and utter disbelief. The live comments had gone silent, then erupted in confusion: [WHAT HAPPENED? HOW DID SHE DODGE?!] [WHAT ABOUT THE MALE LEAD?? HE CAN’T DIE!] I stared into Leo’s unfocused eyes until his eyelids fluttered and closed, then slowly uncurled my fists. I let out a long breath. As the sound of distant shouts reached my ears, I closed my eyes. Oh, brother. Even if you die. I’ll find someone to replace you. 2 Once again, I found myself in a hospital bed. This time, however, I wouldn’t be slipping into a ten-year coma. When my mother saw my eyes flutter open, she jolted upright, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Faye, your brother… he hasn’t woken up… The doctor said the pressure in his skull keeps rising. He might… he might never wake up.” My father was crouched by the doorway, crushing a pack of cigarettes in his hand, his knuckles white. When he looked at me, his gaze was a complex storm of fear and exhaustion, but mostly, it was the familiar sting of blame. “If you hadn’t insisted on going to that abandoned building with him…” Of course. Just like last time. No matter the outcome, I would always be the one at fault. In my past life, when I woke up, all I heard were my parents’ complaints about the sky-high medical bills from the past decade, followed by their relieved thanks that their precious son was unharmed. If it weren’t for keeping up appearances, they probably would have pulled the plug on me years ago. But having died once already, I could finally accept the cold truth: they just didn’t love me. Still, Leo was tougher than I thought. A fall from the sixth floor, and he wasn’t even dead. A new game, a new life, I guess. I clutched the corner of my blanket and shrank back, letting tears well up in my eyes. My voice trembled. “I’m sorry, Mom, Dad… When Leo started climbing the scaffolding, I told him not to. I said the wood was rotten and he would fall. But he yelled at me… told me a stupid little girl doesn’t know anything… He just pushed me away…” I lifted my tear-filled eyes to my father. “Daddy… you called me a pest last time for always following Leo around… If I hadn’t been there… would he still have fallen?” My father’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. I turned to my mother. “And Mommy, just yesterday you said that Leo would be the man of the house one day, and I needed to be more sensible…” My voice cracked. “Does that mean… that whatever I do is wrong if it makes him unhappy?” The only sound in the quiet room was my own choked sobbing. “I wanted to save him, I really did, but then I fell and everything went black… Mom, Dad, are you blaming me, too…?” A nurse walked past the open door, and her conversation drifted in. “Yeah, that’s the room. Can you believe that kid? The planks on the third level were practically dust, and he still kept climbing!” “Well, at least they still have the…” My mother pulled me into a tight, trembling hug, her body shaking. Her voice was a broken, choked whisper, heavy with a long-overdue remorse. “I’m so sorry, Faye… Mom and Dad… we didn’t raise your brother right…” My father remained frozen in the doorway, but his fingers were digging into the cool metal of the frame, the knuckles turning a stark, bloodless white. The comments were still railing against me. It was giving me a headache, so I buried my face in my mother’s neck and shut my eyes. Let them scream. It wouldn’t change the fact that my parents’ favoritism was about to shift. For an eight-year-old, there is no weapon more powerful than an innocent question and a flood of tears. And the crushing weight of medical bills doesn’t change just because the person lying in the bed is now Leo. 3 I was discharged on a gray, overcast day. It was the same day Leo was officially diagnosed as being in a persistent vegetative state. The doctors said there was still a chance he could wake up. For the first two weeks, Mom and Dad were diligent. They brought his favorite strawberry shortcake to the hospital every day and took turns reading stories by his bedside. By the third week, the atmosphere began to shift. The puffiness around my mother’s eyes faded, replaced by a deep, weary exhaustion and a silent, creeping despair. My father, using his busy schedule at the company as an excuse, didn’t set foot in the hospital for a solid month. One evening at dinner, my mother finally broke her silence. “He wet the bed again today,” she said in a low, muffled voice. “I was lucky to be there to clean it up.” She sighed. “I’ve had to cancel so many lunches with my friends, running back and forth to that hospital.” My father’s chopsticks paused mid-air. He was quiet for a long moment. “Let’s hire a 24-hour nurse,” he said finally. “You can’t keep this up, you’ll wear yourself out.” I kept my head down, gnawing on a pork rib, saying nothing. Another two weeks passed. Leo’s name was rarely mentioned in the house anymore. The nurse would call once a week with a robotic update, always the same: “No change.” They would just nod numbly, not even bothering to sigh. My father even took down the only award certificate Leo had ever won and stuffed it in a storage closet. Naturally, this behavior infuriated the commenters. [WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PARENTS? LEO IS THEIR SON! HE HAS PLOT ARMOR, HE’S GOING TO WAKE UP!] [THIS IS ALL FAYE’S FAULT! IF IT WASN’T FOR HER, HE WOULDN’T BE LYING IN THAT BED, HELPLESS! AT THIS RATE, WHEN WILL OUR HEROINE EVER GET ADOPTED?!] They had a point. Leo couldn’t do anything lying in that bed. But I could. A few days ago, to protect their own reputation and avoid a flood of pitying inquiries from their social circle, my parents had transferred me to a public elementary school. Now, it was time for the next step. I took the long way home from school, first tossing my backpack into a bush to cover it with dirt and leaves. Then, I found a rough patch of concrete and took a deliberate dive, scraping my knee just enough to draw a few beads of blood. I quickly smeared the blood across my cheek. Once my masterpiece was complete, I ran the rest of the way home. I burst through the door with a wail and threw myself into my mother’s arms. “Mommy! They were picking on me!” She gasped, her hands fluttering nervously as she tried to wipe the “blood” from my face. “What is it, Faye? Who hurt you?” “The boys at school!” I sobbed, my words coming out in hiccupping gasps. “They… they said Leo’s a vegetable… and that I’m just a burden nobody wants… They threw… threw all my books in the mud…” My father, seeing my disheveled state, turned livid. “Which class? What are their names? I’m going to the school tomorrow and talking to your principal! This is outrageous!” I grabbed onto his pant leg, my wails growing louder. “But… but it’s true, isn’t it?” “Daddy, I’m so scared. Why… why can’t my brother be like Amelia’s brother from the other class? He protects her… he chases away all the mean kids…” My mother’s eyes instantly reddened again. She hugged me tight, her voice full of pain. “Oh, Faye, I’m so sorry. We’ve been so focused on… we’ve neglected you. You must have been terrified.” “Mom, Dad, can you… can you adopt a brother for me? One who can protect me?”

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My brother Alex hit a girl with a basketball and made me deliver his apology note. Curiosity got me—I tore it open, and glowing comments flashed before my eyes: 【LMAO, he hit his crush out of everyone? So obvious.】 【These siblings are a mess. One’s assaulting people, the other’s chasing the main guy. Villains much?】 【So annoying. Can’t they just disappear?】 【It’s fine. They’re both pathetic simps. The brother’s a coward with a secret crush. Free entertainment lol.】 Excuse me? I could handle being called a simp. But Alex? Six-two, abs, killer jump shot, warm voice, sunny personality—a simp? A secret admirer? I burst out laughing. That night, I rewrote his note into a full love letter and delivered it myself. 1 I’d been waiting in the hallway for nearly ten minutes when Lena finally came back from the guidance counselor’s office. The hot summer sun caught the ends of her hair. Her school uniform, faded from countless washes, was buttoned neatly to the very top. Her skin was pale, her eyes were rimmed with red, and she had the unmistakable air of an easy target. Which, to be fair, she was. She was clutching an exam paper from the Math Olympiad qualifiers. Every question was covered in perfect checkmarks, yet next to each one, she’d meticulously written out a more elegant solution in red ink. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Someone’s cold words had clearly gotten to her. I narrowed my eyes and pushed myself off the wall. My friends fell in line behind me, completely blocking her path. “You’re Lena, right?” I asked, crossing my arms and fixing my gaze on her. Heads turned in the hallway. Whispers erupted around us. “What’s going on? How did Lena get on Scarlett’s bad side?” Someone else yawned. “Who knows? She’s been spending all her time with Julian for the math competition. Guess the princess isn’t happy about it.” “Makes sense. Looks like she’s about to get a warning.” The gossip was a low buzz in the air. Lena’s hand tightened on the corner of her uniform. When she looked up, her wide, doe-like eyes were trembling. She was terrified, but she forced her voice to remain steady. “Can I help you?” Just then, the comment feed exploded. 【After chasing the main guy, now she’s bullying the main girl? I’m so mad! Does she really think this will make him like her?】 【Is she starting trouble again? I’m scared. I hope our girl doesn’t get bullied!】 【It’s okay. If she touches a single hair on her head, Julian will be here in a second to put her in her place!】 【But I don’t think the main characters have even fallen for each other yet.】 【It’ll be instinct. They’re soulmates, after all.】 Out of all those comments, one word jumped out at me. Bullying? Did I really look like I was here to bully her? Lena kept her expression neutral, her eyes cautiously fixed on us. Her fingers tightened, feeling every crease in the exam paper in her hand, as if to remind herself—reaching for things that don’t belong to you will only lead to trouble. Just as she was bracing herself for whatever cruel words I was about to say, the sweet scent of flowers filled the air. A love letter appeared right in front of her face. “So, here’s the thing,” I said, my voice breezy. “My brother has a massive crush on you.” “But he’s a coward, so he asked me to give you this.” The pink envelope was perfectly square, stamped with a wax seal and adorned with delicate dried flowers. Lena stared at it, completely stunned. A letter this exquisite seemed to belong to another world, one that had nothing to do with her own simple, threadbare existence. But there, written in elegant script, was her name. She poured every ounce of her energy into winning scholarships just to claw her way out of poverty. A moment like this had never even crossed her mind. She had no idea how to react. A beat later, her heart started hammering against her ribs like a drum, a frantic rhythm that matched the excited murmurs of the students around us. Her eyes were red, the tips of her ears were red, and her cheeks were a deep, burning crimson. She was adorable. The perfect match for a guy as handsome as my brother. I grinned and pressed the envelope into her palm. The letter, warm from the sun, was so hot it made her fingers curl. The chatter around us grew louder. Her blush deepened, spreading all the way to her ears. “Is this… is this from the guy at the basketball court the other day?” she stammered, barely daring to believe it. “Yep. The one who accidentally hit you with the ball.” Suddenly, a vivid slash of red broke through the gray monotony of her memories. The boy in the red jersey. His features were sharp, almost fierce, but the moment he knelt beside her, his apology was shy, his voice gentle as he asked if she was okay. He was nothing like Julian, with his cold, detached aura. This boy smelled of the hot afternoon sun. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on the lean muscles of his arms. He radiated a vibrant, youthful energy that was almost overwhelming. But in that moment, all she could focus on were his shoes. Expensive, limited-edition sneakers that silently screamed of the class divide between them. He was from Julian’s world, and yet… he was different. Even with the game on the line, he’d had a friend take her to the nurse’s office and pressed his own card into her hand to cover any costs. As he turned to run back to the court, she saw the name printed on the back of his jersey. Alex Vance. A name that sounded as bright and full of life as he was. “Remember now? My brother, Alex. He’s a senior in class 3-8,” I said, giving her a little wink. She clutched the letter, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with nerves. “Yes.” “He really, really likes you,” I added. “But he’s a total coward.” The morning sun was bright and warm. Her eyelashes fluttered. She couldn’t help but wonder. A boy so dazzling you could barely look at him directly. Could he really be a coward? 2 The comment feed cursed me out for days after that. 【She just HAS to mess with the main couple’s storyline, doesn’t she? So disgusting!】 【Does she honestly think the main girl would fall for her brother? A little overconfident, much?】 【LMAO, her brother is the definition of a second male lead. Sure, the main guy is cold, but that’s exactly what the main girl is into. She loves the ‘cold on the outside, warm on the inside’ type.】 【Totally. A girl as insecure and sensitive as her needs quiet companionship. Someone with a personality that different would just make her uncomfortable. She only accepted the letter to avoid an awkward scene. There’s no way she actually likes him.】 Was that really true? I walked into the exam hall, supplies in hand, and saw Lena right away. Her face was flushed, and she seemed completely distracted. Her gaze kept drifting to the boy sitting in the row ahead of her and to the left. That was my brother, Alex. My eyes followed hers, and then I froze. My gaze locked onto the chocolate bar sitting, untouched, in Alex’s hand. Wait. He hadn’t given it to her? …Or had she rejected him? 3 I had checked the seating chart for the monthly exams beforehand. As soon as I found out Lena was in our testing room, I told Alex. He just gave a casual “Mm,” but the tips of his ears turned pink. I saw right through him. “You already knew, didn’t you?” “A friend told me.” “They know you have a crush on Lena, too?! No way, since when are you so obvious about it?” Alex shot me a dark look. Right. It was probably because I’d been so loud about delivering the letter. He’d found out that same day from his friends that I’d swapped his apology for a confession. But he hadn’t denied it, saying it would have embarrassed her. I knew the real reason: he was secretly thrilled. So, I’d given him a fancy chocolate bar a friend brought me from Europe and told him to give it to her the next day. For the first time, the usually composed and confident Alex showed a rare flash of boyish uncertainty. “Isn’t it a bit… sudden?” he’d hesitated. “You don’t give a girl gifts when you’re trying to win her over?” I’d asked, baffled. “Flowers, presents, chocolate—that’s how it works. If you’re all talk and no action, that’s not called courting, it’s called harassment.” I was dead serious. And Alex had agreed. I just never thought his very first attempt at giving a girl a gift would end in such a brutal rejection. I couldn’t help but stare at him now. He was resting his head on his hand, his eyes half-closed. His fair skin was tinged with a faint blush. He looked lost in thought, or maybe just zoned out. And the chocolate bar in his hand was mangled beyond recognition. The comment feed was having a field day. 【LOL, I told you she wouldn’t fall for a side character. Look at him, rejected hard!】 【The clown is him! Hahahahaha.】 【They’re just simps for the main characters. Might as well be watching a circus.】 Simps. Hah. I almost felt sorry for us. 4 My face was a mask of stone. As I walked past Julian, I didn’t even slow down. I kept going, right past his desk. The boy, whose expression was usually a mask of cool indifference, actually flinched. That’s right. It wasn’t just Lena and Alex in this exam hall. Julian was here, too. Of course he was. The side characters only exist to decorate the main couple’s love story. My brother had already been humiliated. I couldn’t afford to lose face, too. The seating for the monthly exams wasn’t strictly enforced. I easily convinced the guy in front of me to switch seats, and sat down right next to Lena. She snapped back to reality, a stray strand of hair falling to hide the panic in her eyes. Her elbow knocked the fountain pen on her desk, and it rolled to a stop by my foot. The logo on the cap was faded, but I could make out a single letter: L. The pen itself was so worn that the metal plating had rubbed off in places. I bent down to pick it up for her, but she was faster. She shot out of her seat, snatched the pen, and clutched it tightly in her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered quickly, noticing my intention. For once, I dropped my usual princessy demeanor and gave her a friendly smile. “No problem.” Could a pen like that even write properly? I glanced at it again. When the exam papers were handed out, she took a normal ballpoint from her pencil case and neatly wrote her name. The battered old fountain pen sat quietly on the corner of her desk. It seemed more like a companion than a tool. My mind started wandering. Maybe she just didn’t like chocolate. That’s why she’d turned Alex down. Next time, I’d have him give her school supplies. She couldn’t reject that, right?

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1 Everyone knew I was Damien Vargo’s weakness. His one sacred, untouchable thing. Years ago, when I was kidnapped, Damien walked into the lion’s den and laid down his arms, risking a bullet to the head. He liquidated his entire fortune, a king’s ransom, just to get me back. To shield me from the brutality of his world, he danced on a razor’s edge between the law and the underworld. And when I became pregnant, he treated me like fragile glass, a queen confined to her throne. He waited on me hand and foot, barely letting my feet touch the floor. Whispers of a pampered little canary he kept on the side swirled through the city, but I never believed them. I couldn’t. But his canary wouldn’t stay in her cage. She brought the scandal to my doorstep, and to beg for my forgiveness, Damien took a cleaver to his own hand and chopped off his little finger. The very next day, the canary was back, shoving a new piece of paper in my face. Her pregnancy test, with Damien’s name on it. “Damien is just desperate for a child with me,” she cooed. “He simply can’t get enough.” My body, already frail, couldn’t take the shock. The words, the proof, the betrayal—it all hit me with the force of a physical blow, and I miscarried. … “Damien is just so desperate to have my baby,” Crystal purred, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness. The fresh love bites on her neck were a violent purple against her skin, a stark contrast to the clinical black and white of the ultrasound photo in her hand. “We went at it all night. The results just came in. Guess what they say?” Seeing her, seeing the marks of my husband’s passion on her throat, felt like Damien himself had driven a knife clean through my back. This was her second visit. The first was yesterday. She’d sauntered in, all swagger and cheap perfume, and tossed a video of her and Damien, tangled in silk sheets, onto my coffee table. It was followed by a black Centurion card. She sank into my favorite chaise lounge, adjusting her oversized sunglasses just enough to peer at me through the gap, her gaze sweeping over me with undisguised contempt. “No wonder Damien’s tired of you. God, you’re so washed-up. There’s ten million dollars on this card. Take it and disappear.” She paused, letting the insult hang in the air before delivering the final blow. “Normally, I wouldn’t bother. He’s clearly over you. But Damien wants to give me a wedding, a real one. And for that to happen, you two have to get divorced.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. A wedding? We have to get divorced? “Does Damien know you’re here?” I asked, my voice deceptively calm. She tossed her bleached-blonde hair, her confidence absolute. She pulled out her phone and dialed. “Damien, baby,” she chirped. “Could you come over? There’s a woman here who needs… dealing with.” And just like an obedient dog, he came. A few minutes later, Damien strode in. The moment he saw me, his face went rigid, the color draining from it. Crystal, oblivious, preened like a peacock, high on the power of summoning the most feared man in Port Sterling. She snatched a cup of hot tea from the table and, with a triumphant smirk, flung its contents at me, soaking me from head to toe. I just smiled, a cold, dangerous smile. “Who gave you the courage to provoke me?” In the next second, Damien was a blur of motion. Crystal turned to him, her face lit with expectation, thinking he was coming to her defense. Instead, his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of her hair. He slammed her to the floor, his boot connecting with her ribs in a series of sickening thuds. Crystal crumpled, gasping, her face a mask of shocked disbelief. One of Damien’s men dragged her away, whimpering. Before yesterday, I’d heard the rumors. The whole city was whispering that Damien Vargo had a gorgeous new canary, one he took everywhere. A girl so delicate she fainted at the sight of blood, so he kept her shielded from the ugliness of his work. They said he spoiled her rotten, let her get away with murder. I never believed it. I remembered the kidnapping, the terror, and Damien throwing down his guns for me. I remembered the time I went missing on the outskirts of the city, and he’d torn through the wilderness for seven days and seven nights, returning with his leg mangled by some wild animal, just to hold me and whisper, “Lena, don’t be scared. I’m here.” All those years of dancing on the knife’s edge, all the pain and scars he endured—he did it all so I would never have to be afraid. Those memories were etched into my soul. So when Crystal showed up that first time, I showed him the video. My voice was a choked whisper. “Are the rumors true?” He looked utterly lost, scrambling for words. “I’m sorry. I’ll get rid of her. I’ll have her taken care of right now, I swear. Just forgive me… Lena… please…” The world spun. The shock and grief sent me straight to the hospital. My health was already precarious, and the pregnancy made it worse. The doctor had warned me that any severe emotional distress could lead to a miscarriage. Damien’s iron grip on the city meant no one dared to breathe a word that might upset me. And now, he himself had put me here. Lying in that hospital bed, waiting for the doctors, I thought one thing over and over: This Damien is filthy. I don’t want him anymore. But when I was wheeled out of the treatment room, he was there. Kneeling on the cold linoleum floor. In one swift, brutal motion, he raised a butcher’s knife. Right there, in front of me, he brought it down, severing the little finger from his right hand. A blood offering. A penance. “Lena, it was my fault,” he choked out, his face pale with pain and regret. “I betrayed you. Forgive me, please? Just this once. I’m begging you, Lena.” Ten years. We had loved each other for ten years. How could my heart not ache for him? I gave him another chance. And now, today, I stared at the fresh bruises on Crystal’s neck and the pregnancy report she’d slapped across my face. When Damien left yesterday, he’d said he was going to “deal with” Crystal. Apparently, “dealing with her” meant falling right back into her bed. Reality was a slap in the face, shattering every last ounce of my compassion, every shred of my love. The heartbreak was a physical agony, a shard of glass twisting in my gut. The pain in my heart mirrored a sharp, cramping pain in my belly. I was going to die from this, I was sure of it. Then, a sudden, horrifying warmth spread between my legs, a torrent of crimson. I knew. I’d lost the baby. I had my doctor, Leah, cover it up. I’d found her on the streets years ago; her loyalty was to me, and me alone. Then, I booked a one-way ticket for a cruise liner heading to the southern isles. I pressed a hand to my empty womb, a hollow ache echoing through me. Ten years, Damien and I had waited ten years for this child. I had pictured our life together, the three of us, a thousand times. I had swallowed my pride and forgiven you. All I asked was that you didn’t do it again. Was that too much? On the drive back from the clinic, I got a text from Damien. : Threw a party for you tonight. To celebrate. I’ll come pick you up soon. The route took me past the main hall of our estate. The windows blazed with light, and as I drew closer, I could hear a familiar, sickly-sweet voice drifting out. “I’m so jealous of Lena,” Crystal was saying. “Damien throws her a party just for being pregnant. When will it be my turn for a party like this?” I peered through a crack in the door. I saw Damien’s expression darken. He grabbed Crystal’s chin, his voice a low growl. “As long as you never, ever let Lena find out about us, I’ll give you anything you want. Anything but my name.” Crystal pouted. “I want that pigeon’s blood ruby necklace Lena wears. Can I have it? Please?” “As long as you’re not stupid enough to show your face to her again,” Damien replied without hesitation, “anything she has, you’ll have too.” So, the fury he’d shown me was just an act. A performance for my benefit. I thought he would have learned his lesson. I thought he would cherish the chance I gave him. But he never thought he was wrong. He only thought he hadn’t been careful enough to hide it. My phone buzzed. A call from an unknown number. It was Crystal. She wanted to make sure I had a front-row seat to their little play. “Alright, I have to go get Lena now,” Damien’s voice said through the phone. I heard a rustle, then Crystal’s voice, husky and close. She had clearly pulled him into an anteroom. “Stay with me a little longer. Please? Once Lena gets here, you’ll have to be with her all night.” “No. I have to go. She just got pregnant, and she’s fragile. It’s too easy for her to miscarry.” “You only care about her baby,” Crystal whined. “Did you forget? I’m carrying your child, too. Don’t I deserve some of your affection?” “Of course I care about you,” Damien soothed. “You’re my little treasure, aren’t you?” I stepped into the doorway of the main hall, making my presence known. “What are we celebrating?” “The boss was worried you might be feeling down during the pregnancy,” one of the men said. “So he prepared a celebration for you.” How laughable. They were all in on it, all helping him lie to my face. My eyes drifted to the partition separating the main hall from the anteroom. I couldn’t see them, but their shadows danced on the polished floor, intertwined in a way that left nothing to the imagination. Damien must have heard my voice. His shadow pulled back. “That’s enough,” he hissed. “If Lena finds out, it’s over. I can’t afford that.” “I know, I know,” Crystal murmured. “But it’s been so long… If Lena knew we’ve been together for three years, she’d be furious, wouldn’t she?” “If you keep being a bad girl, I’ll have to punish you.” Then, through the phone, Damien’s voice dissolved into muffled sounds. My nails dug into my palms, the pain a dull echo of the agony in my chest. This, Damien, is how you trample on me. Again and again. A full thirty minutes passed before he emerged, pretending he’d been caught up with business. His face was still flushed with the afterglow of his tryst with Crystal. The gentle smile he offered me was so vile it made me want to retch. He placed a hand on my stomach, his touch a brand of fire. His palm, still warm from another woman’s body, moved in a gentle caress. “Is our little one behaving? Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this baby, Lena?” He had wept with joy when I first told him I was pregnant. But it never stopped him from touching me with filthy hands, from playing the part of the devoted husband. The love and happiness I thought were my life were nothing but a web of secrets and lies. Once you peeled back the glittering surface, the truth was just despair. After the “celebration,” Damien made an excuse about urgent business and left early. I knew where he was going. Back to the anteroom, back to the woman he had hidden there. Bang! Bang! Two gunshots echoed from the hillside. I looked up, my senses numb, and saw them—men from a rival territory, walking straight towards me. I watched, frozen, as one of them raised a pistol, the barrel aimed squarely at my face. Just as I braced for the end, a familiar shape slammed into me, shielding me. It was Damien. More shots rang out, several bullets tearing into his back as he tackled me. He wrapped his arms around me and threw us down a steep embankment, his body a shield over mine the entire way down. He’d taken a bullet to the left side of his chest, and his body was a mess of bloody scrapes from the rocks and gravel. But all he did was hold me tight and whisper, “Don’t be scared.” The intruders were quickly subdued. They were just scouts who had stumbled upon me by chance. Years ago, Damien had killed the wife of a rival boss—she’d been pregnant. Ever since, the man had been hunting for revenge. In the hospital, I stared at Damien’s unconscious form, my mind a blank. You would literally die for me. So why? Why would you do this to me? His injuries were severe, but on the third day, he insisted on getting out of bed. He said he had a business negotiation with a rival crew leader. Hearing those words, the flicker of pity I’d felt turned to ash in my mouth. He saw me staring and a flicker of guilt crossed his face. “It’s… it’s really important. I have to go.” “Fine,” I said, my voice flat. For days, I’d been seeing wedding decorations being smuggled into the compound. Last night, Crystal had sent me a digital wedding invitation. I knew exactly where Damien was going. Maybe Crystal was right. Maybe he just didn’t love me anymore. And when I looked at his face now, all I could see was him tangled up with her, and a wave of nausea washed over me. Soon after, I was on the deck of the cruise ship, pulling away from the shores of Port Sterling. Ping. A text from Damien. At the meeting now, Lena. Attached was a picture of him sitting at a table in a warehouse, looking serious. A pathetic attempt to prove his lie. I knew it was fake because I was watching the real event. Live. On a video call from Crystal. The wedding was being held in a secret, underground chamber, hidden away from my eyes. Damien was in a black tuxedo, the groom. The blood from the bullet wound in his chest had already soaked through the pristine white shirt and was staining the dark fabric of his jacket. But even that couldn’t stop him from marrying her. On the screen, Damien stood at the altar. After the officiant spoke, Damien took Crystal’s hand, kissed it, and looked into her eyes with a tenderness that used to be reserved for me. “I do,” he said. And in that moment, I laughed at my own pathetic foolishness. This morning, when he’d told me about his “negotiation,” a tiny, stupid part of me had held onto a sliver of hope. Maybe it’s real. Maybe it’s something life-or-death. But with Damien, the more you trust him, the bigger the fool he makes you. He sent another text after stepping down from the altar: Deal went smoothly. What do you want for dinner tonight? I replied: Are you really in a negotiation? On the live feed, I saw his face drain of all color. My phone immediately began to ring, over and over. He didn’t wait for an answer. A new text came in, frantic: Yes. I am. I’ll explain when I get back. I promise. I ended the video call with Crystal. I was already on a ship, sailing toward the open sea, leaving the shores of our country, and him, far behind.

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