At the altar, my own wedding altar, Jack Hayes held Mia Clark in his arms and made his announcement to the world. “Mia and I… we’re the ones who are truly in love. The woman I intend to marry today is her.” A collective gasp swept through the chapel. Every eye, filled with shock and pity, turned to me. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t cause a scene. In front of all our guests, I moved with a grace that felt foreign even to myself. I walked toward him, my couture gown rustling softly, and executed a perfect, polite curtsy. “My affection for you ends here, Jack.” “I wish you a happy marriage.” And, I added silently, this time, I wouldn’t let my own foolish heart lead my family to ruin. 1. The moment Jack’s resonant voice faded, the air crackled with the guests’ sharp inhales. I was, without a doubt, the tragic centerpiece of this spectacle. “Genevieve, it wasn’t until I met Mia that I understood what love truly is,” he continued, his voice thick with performative sincerity. “She’s taught me so much. My heart belongs only to Mia, and she’s the only one I want to marry.” “So please, I’m asking you to grant us your blessing.” The two of them gazed at each other, their eyes brimming with a love so profound it was almost theatrical. It was a perfect portrait, casting me as the wicked witch trying to tear two star-crossed lovers apart. Buoyed by Jack’s support, Mia found her courage. “Miss Sinclair,” she began, her voice trembling just so, “Jack doesn’t love you. Why force him into this? You can’t force happiness. A marriage without love is a prison. Jack and I are truly in love… please, I’m begging you, let us be together.” Her plea hung in the air, thick with manufactured desperation. I looked at them, clinging to each other on the stage that should have been mine, and a faint smile touched my lips. From the age of ten, I knew I would marry Jack Hayes. To become a woman worthy of standing by his side, I had sacrificed my childhood. While other girls played with dolls, I was studying wine tasting and art appreciation. While they compared pretty dresses, I had committed to memory the lineage and ledgers of every influential family in Crestwood. While they fretted over getting a perfect score on a final exam, I was mastering the delicate art of social politics, all to become the perfect partner for him. I knew that the woman beside Jack Hayes could never be a mere ornament. Perhaps it was that lifelong obsession that had twisted me into something unrecognizable. Marrying him, becoming the matriarch of the Hayes family, had become my sole purpose. I couldn’t even tell if it was love or a desperate need for possession. But in my past life, the title I had fought tooth and nail for became the very sword Jack used to destroy my family’s company, Sinclair Industries. This time, I had no intention of sinking into the toxic mire of the Hayes family. I gathered the skirt of my custom-made gown and walked, step by deliberate step, toward the stage. My family’s bodyguards trailed behind me, their bodies tense, ready to tackle me to the ground at the slightest hint of a scene. But I simply stopped, a good ten feet from Jack. I curtsied again, my form flawless, my posture elegant. “My affection for you ends here, Jack.” “And again, I wish you a happy marriage.” Jack stared, clearly stunned. He had obviously braced himself for a fight, a tantrum, anything but this quiet, swift acceptance. The next second, his mother, Mrs. Hayes, stormed the stage. She lunged for Mia, her hand raised to strike, but Jack intercepted her, shielding Mia with his own body. Forgetting all decorum, his mother unleashed a torrent of fury. “You worthless, ungrateful boy! Casting aside a perfect match from a fine family for this… this nobody from nowhere! You’ve shamed us all! What can she do besides play the victim and manipulate your pity?” Mia’s face flushed a deep crimson, but Jack only held her tighter, as if she were a priceless treasure. “Genevieve has everything and everyone,” he declared, his voice ringing with conviction. “But Mia… she only has me. Genevieve and I grew up together. If a spark was ever going to happen, it would have happened by now. I don’t love her! Why does everyone keep trying to force us together? There’s no happiness in a loveless marriage. I want the world to know that Mia is the only one I love, and I want to give her the best of everything!” His impassioned, self-righteous speech earned a few muffled snickers from the guests. Marriages among the elite were never so simple. Then, Jack turned his righteous anger on me. “You don’t love me either, do you? A business merger like us would never be happy.” I didn’t answer. Instead, I silently slipped the engagement ring from my finger. I was about to return it when I noticed a dazzling, expensive-looking diamond already gracing Mia’s ring finger. A humorless smile played on my lips. I turned to the bodyguard beside me, took his gloved hand, and placed my ring in his palm. “Return to sender.” Mrs. Hayes grabbed my arm, her eyes pleading with me to stay. But my father stepped in, firmly removing her hand. “Since the Hayes family has clearly made other arrangements, we will not impose any longer.” With that, he took my arm and led me away, his back ramrod straight with fury. Because of a careless joke made by our parents years ago, I had spent eighteen years loving Jack Hayes. I’d endured the sneers of our social circle, who called me his lapdog, and I had simply smiled through it. Their laughter meant nothing because I knew that, in the end, I would be the one marrying into the Hayes family. It was only when I had finally clawed my way to that position that I realized my foolishness had dragged me, and my parents, into an abyss. This time, I was done playing their game. That den of vipers? They could have it. 2. The moment we were in the car, my father’s rage erupted. “That bastard Jack Hayes! To abandon my daughter at the altar… Unbelievable! First thing tomorrow, I’m telling my secretary to halt all joint ventures with the Hayes corporation!” he thundered, his voice bouncing off the leather interior. “If it weren’t for my respect for his father, who would ever want to marry their daughter to that piece of trash! My Genevieve is brilliant, accomplished! The line of suitors is a mile long, and he dares to humiliate her like this? I need to hire someone to teach that punk a lesson he’ll never forget.” My mother tried to soothe him, but it was no use. If my father had a machine gun right now, I was certain he’d level the entire Hayes estate. A small laugh escaped my lips. My father stopped his tirade, looking at me with concern. “Honey, have you been shocked into a daze?” I squeezed my parents’ hands, feeling the warmth of their skin against mine. It wasn’t the cold, lifeless touch I remembered. The raw emotion of it all made my eyes well up. Thinking I was heartbroken, my dad immediately ordered the driver to turn back around to confront Jack. I quickly stopped him. “Dad, even if Jack hadn’t pulled this stunt today, I was going to call off the wedding.” My father’s mouth opened, but he swallowed his curiosity, afraid of upsetting me further. I watched the city lights streak past the window before turning to face my parents, my expression serious. “Here, at home, I’m the apple of your eye, cherished and protected. But if I went to the Hayes family, I’d be nothing more than a pawn to secure their business, a vessel for producing an heir.” They stared at me, completely bewildered. In my previous life, when Jack had brought Mia to crash our wedding, I had fought back with the ferocity of a cornered animal. I was determined to marry him, even if it meant turning our wedding into a battlefield. The dress was torn, champagne glasses shattered, and the beautifully decorated venue was reduced to rubble. In the end, under pressure from all sides, Jack had relented. He married me, his heart full of resentment, and thus began the tragic second act of my life. To punish me for “stealing” Mia’s place, Jack was cold and distant. He began a hostile takeover of my family’s company as his ultimate revenge. My mother-in-law, blaming me for failing to secure her son’s heart, grew more critical by the day. “You’ve been married into this family for how long now, and still no sign of a pregnancy?” she would sneer. I could only offer a bitter smile in return. Because of Jack’s disdain, the entire Hayes clan treated me with contempt. Eventually, Sinclair Industries was fully acquired. My parents, broken and defeated, jumped from their office building. I was left with nothing, a pathetic dependent living on the scraps of the Hayes family’s charity. The final straw was the news of Mia giving birth to Jack’s child. I looked my parents in the eyes, my voice steady. “That kind of life… it would be a living hell. An agony I couldn’t bear.” A gilded cage like that was its own special kind of torture. No identity, no joy. A world where even I couldn’t protect myself—and yet, it was the very world Mia was desperate to enter. Perhaps with Jack protecting her, things would be different. But none of that mattered to me anymore. After hearing me out, my parents’ brows were deeply furrowed as they processed the weight of my words. Finally, my father’s gaze softened. “Then what do you want to do now, my dear?” “I’m going to go back to school. Get my master’s.” Then, I let myself be a child again, burrowing into my mother’s arms. “Sinclair Industries is my future, after all. I’m going to make it stronger than ever before.” The heavy atmosphere in the car was shattered by my father’s booming laugh. “Hahaha! That’s my girl! The daughter of Robert Sinclair! I’ll have my assistant make the arrangements immediately.” Within days, all the paperwork for my studies abroad was complete. The day I left, I told no one. A heavy snow was falling, blanketing the city in white, just like it had on New Year’s Eve all those years ago. A younger Jack had proudly taken my hand in front of our families, announcing with childish bravado, “This is my girl!”—sending the adults into peals of laughter. It was all just a misunderstanding in the end. I scrolled through the news on my phone before boarding. A headline caught my eye, accompanied by a picture of Jack and Mia: Cinderella and Prince Charming Finally Get Their Happily Ever After. I smiled softly. I switched off my phone, picked up my boarding pass, and walked away without a backward glance. 3. Three years later, I returned with a master’s degree, ready to officially take the reins of the company. To celebrate my homecoming, my friends in our social circle threw me a welcome-back party. I’d developed a taste for fine liquor during my years away, so my best friend, Chelsea, had chosen a chic, upscale bar. The moment I walked in, however, my eyes landed on Jack, sitting alone in a dim corner. He saw me at the same time. Our gazes met, and I frowned involuntarily. “What’s he doing here?” Chelsea shrugged. “You know how it is. Our circle isn’t that big. The second news of your return broke, it spread like wildfire. Of course, the Hayes family heard about it.” I nodded. In our world, the slightest whisper could become public knowledge in minutes. Especially with my parents, who were prone to bragging about me. I glanced back at Jack. He was radiating a “do not approach” vibe. “Is Mia not with him?” I asked. Chelsea leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t even get me started! She’s the walking punchline of our entire social circle. Anyone who gets associated with her ends up being ostracized. It’s like she’s cursed. So everyone keeps their distance.” I gave her a questioning look, but she just shook her head, not wanting to elaborate further. Instead, she pushed me toward the crowd with a grin. “Alright everyone! Tonight, if our girl Genevieve walks out of here sober, it’s on every single one of you!” That was all the encouragement they needed. One by one, they came up to toast me, and I graciously accepted each drink with a smile. For three years, I had poured every ounce of my energy into my studies, wishing I had eight brains to absorb all the information. Now that I was back, I deserved to let loose. I’d only had a few drinks when a hand closed over my glass, pulling it away. It was Jack. “You’re a lightweight. Don’t drink so much.” I was not in the mood for his unsolicited concern. I simply took the glass back. He tried to grab it again, but I sidestepped him easily. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Mr. Hayes,” I said, my tone light but firm. God, I hated men who thought they could make decisions for me. My playful rebuke clearly caught him off guard. He just stood there, stunned. I had always navigated these social scenes with ease, and now, my skills were even sharper. I didn’t need a knight, and I certainly didn’t need a prince to protect me. Turning my back on him, I clinked glasses with the handsome son of a real estate tycoon. Jack remained half a step behind me for the rest of the night, a silent, brooding shadow. I didn’t give him another glance. Suddenly, someone shouted, “Look, fireworks!” I turned toward the large window. The night sky had erupted in a dazzling display of color. Brilliant bursts of white, red, and yellow painted the darkness. Jack moved to stand beside me, holding his drink. He leaned in close, his voice a low murmur in my ear. “Do you like them?” When I didn’t respond, he smiled faintly. “I promised I’d give you a spectacular fireworks show one day. It’s a shame you were abroad all these years. I never got the chance.” I watched the vibrant explosions silently. He had said that once, a long time ago. But childish promises fade with time, lost to the river of years. And I no longer needed them. I pulled myself back to the present and gently tapped my glass against his. I offered him a perfect, practiced smile. “Thank you for the gift, Mr. Hayes.” My detached, formal reply seemed to throw him. “You’ve changed,” he murmured, his voice low.

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My husband, Adrian Thorne, was a world-renowned pianist. He despised my hands—hands he claimed were made only for coarse labor. One day, after I’d dared to dust his grand piano, he melted a bowl of searing wax. Without a flicker of emotion, he seized my hands and plunged them deep into the molten liquid. “This,” he whispered in my ear as I screamed, “is your punishment for defiling art.” To avoid his wrath, I never touched his precious piano again. Until his birthday. He came home drunk, took my hands in his, and guided them over the black and white keys, playing the favorite song of his first love. Tears streamed down his face as he murmured, “So… your hands can be this soft, too.” In that moment, I naively believed he had finally let go of the past, that he had finally seen me. But the next morning, I was held down by two burly men, forced to watch as my husband took a hammer and, with the chilling precision of a metronome, shattered the bones in my fingers, one by one. He watched me writhe on the floor, then calmly poured himself a glass of red wine. “How dare these hands,” he mused, his voice cold as ice, “recreate a melody meant only for Celeste? Garbage… must be destroyed.” 1 The fluorescent lights of the hospital ceiling were a blinding glare. I wanted to shield my eyes, but my hands were wrapped into two thick, white bundles, suspended in the air. Every breath sent a fresh spike of agony through them. My orthopedic surgeon held up the X-rays, his expression a mask of professional regret. “Mrs. Thorne, you have comminuted fractures in all ten fingers. The nerve reconstruction in three of them was not optimal.” He sighed. “From now on, you should avoid lifting heavy objects and any fine motor activities.” Adrian hadn’t just shattered my hands. He had taken a hammer to my entire life, piece by piece, and smashed it to dust. I stared at the gauze-wrapped clubs that used to be my hands. I tried to smile, but the corners of my mouth wouldn’t obey. The door creaked open, and my husband, Adrian Thorne, walked in. Impeccably dressed in an expensive bespoke suit, he was an alien of sterile perfection in the drab hospital room. He didn’t look at me. He walked straight to the window and pulled back the curtains. Sunlight flooded in, and I flinched, my eyes squeezing shut. “What did the doctor say?” he asked. His voice was as crisp and cool as the highest notes on his keyboard. I said nothing. He finally turned to me, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Lina, I’m talking to you.” “Just as you wished,” I rasped, my voice a dry, unfamiliar sound from my chapped lips. “I’ll never touch your piano again.” Adrian’s expression remained unchanged. He simply nodded. From the fruit basket he’d brought, he selected an apple and began to peel it with a small, sharp knife. The peel came off in a single, unbroken spiral, a work of art in his grasp. He had the most perfect hands in the world—long, elegant fingers, with well-defined knuckles. These were the hands hailed as “kissed by God,” capable of weaving the most magnificent symphonies. And, with the same flawless precision, of shattering his wife’s bones. He sliced the peeled apple into small, neat pieces and held one to my lips. I turned my head away, avoiding the hand that had brought me such ruin. His hand froze in mid-air. After a few seconds, he retracted it. “Don’t be difficult.” “Lina, you should know by now what you can and cannot touch.” He popped the piece of apple into his own mouth, chewing slowly, deliberately, as if savoring my pain. “That melody does not belong to you.” “Remember this lesson.” 2 After Adrian left, my mother-in-law arrived, carrying a thermos of chicken soup. She slammed it down on the bedside table the moment she entered. The greasy smell hit me like a wave, and I fought back a surge of nausea. “Lina, what did you do this time to make Adrian so angry?” The blame in her eyes was raw and undisguised. “Don’t you know his world tour starts next month? Are you trying to ruin his career by causing trouble now?” I looked at her, a bitter, hollow laugh stuck in my throat. I was causing trouble? “Mother, your son broke my hands.” She scoffed, pulling a chair to the bedside and studying me with an air of aristocratic disdain. “If he hit you, you must have done something to deserve it.” “I told you from the start, a woman from your background was never good enough for our Adrian. What can you do besides housework? And now you’ve even forgotten your place and touched his piano?” “That isn’t just a piano—it’s his life! Better for you to lose a hand than for him to lose his future!” And my life? Was my life not a life? I closed my eyes, unwilling to argue. Trying to reason with a Thorne was a fool’s errand, an argument you were destined to lose before it even began. Seeing my silence, she must have mistaken it for submission. Her tone softened slightly. “Don’t blame Adrian. He’s been through so much.” “Celeste has been gone for years, but he’s never moved on.” Celeste. Adrian’s first love. The only woman he deemed worthy of touching his piano, a fallen piano prodigy. “He was drunk yesterday. He thought you were Celeste. That’s why he lost control. As his wife, you should be more understanding. It’s a small price to pay.” My eyes snapped open, the hatred in them so intense it could have burned her. “So, when he realized I wasn’t Celeste, he decided to destroy my hands?” My glare made her flinch, but her shock quickly morphed into anger. “What is this attitude? You think you’ve grown wings?” “Let me tell you something, Lina. There are countless women who would kill to be Mrs. Thorne. Don’t be so ungrateful!” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I stayed in the hospital for two weeks. Adrian never visited again. But every day, a delivery of fresh, expensive fruit and gourmet supplements would arrive, piling up on my nightstand. A silent, condescending charity. 3 On the day of my discharge, the Thorne family driver was there to pick me up. I refused to get in the car and called a taxi instead. The driver looked distressed. “Ma’am, Mr. Thorne instructed me…” “Tell him I need some time alone.” I went back to the house I shared with Adrian. When I pushed the door open, a pair of new women’s slippers sat in the entryway, a size too small for me. In the living room, the black Steinway grand piano gleamed, polished to perfection. A young woman I’d never seen before was carefully dusting the lid with a feather duster. She started when she saw me, looking flustered. “You are?” I didn’t answer. My eyes moved past her to a woman’s trench coat draped over the sofa. It was exactly Celeste’s style. Looking closer, the girl herself bore a striking resemblance to her. Understanding seemed to dawn on her, and a blush crept up her cheeks. “I’m the new piano maintenance specialist Mr. Thorne hired. My name is—” “Get out.” My voice was quiet, but it held a steel that couldn’t be disobeyed. The girl froze. “But Mr. Thorne…” “I said, get out,” I repeated, looking her straight in the eye. My expression must have terrified her. She hastily put down her things and fled. I walked to the piano. This instrument was Adrian’s sacred ground. He once told me my hands were only good for washing vegetables, that to touch his piano was to defile it. In three years of marriage, I had never laid a finger on it. Now, my hands were ruined. I could never play again. I could no longer threaten the sacred memory of the woman in his heart. I reached out with my still-bandaged hand and let it rest gently on the piano lid. It was cold and hard, just like Adrian’s heart. The front door opened behind me. Adrian was home. His eyes fell on my hand on his piano, and his gaze turned to ice. “What did I tell you?” His voice was a low growl, thick with a rage that felt ready to tear me apart. I didn’t turn around. I simply slid my stiff, unbending fingers across the smooth, polished surface. “Adrian, let’s get a divorce.” The silence in the room was absolute. After a long moment, a cold laugh escaped his lips. “Divorce?” He strode toward me, his tall frame looming over me, casting me completely in his shadow. “Lina, you have the audacity to mention divorce to me?” “Your family, your home, everything you have—I gave it to you. Without me, you are nothing.” He was right. To marry him, I had given up my career, abandoned my studies, and cut off nearly every friend he didn’t approve of. I had become an island, existing only in his orbit. “I’ll leave with nothing,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I had nothing to begin with. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes were filled with contempt and ridicule, as if he were looking at an ant trying to challenge a giant. “Do you think divorce is a game you can start and stop whenever you please?” “Lina, I make the rules here.” “You want to leave? Fine. First, learn how to be an obedient dog.” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and met his gaze without flinching. “That girl from before… she’s the replacement you found for Celeste, isn’t she? What value do I have left? Wouldn’t a divorce be more convenient for you both?” He released me with such force that I stumbled backward. “Lina, you don’t get to walk away so easily. You have a debt to Celeste that you’ll spend the rest of your life repaying!” “Until you learn to be an obedient dog, you will stay right here.” He pulled out his phone and made a call. “Get Mr. Davies on the line. I need a new postnuptial agreement drafted.” “Yes. Regarding loyalty and obedience.” He hung up and walked out without another glance in my direction. 4 Adrian didn’t come home that night. I sat alone in the vast, empty living room until the sun came up. The next day, Mr. Davies arrived. He had been a witness at our wedding, but now his face was a mask of cold professionalism. He handed me a document. “Mrs. Thorne, this is the new agreement Mr. Thorne asked me to prepare.” I took it and skimmed through the pages. The clauses were a masterclass in humiliation. I was forbidden from initiating a divorce, from disobeying any of Adrian’s wishes, from having any unnecessary contact with any man. Even if my own parents wanted to see me, they would first have to submit a written request to Adrian for approval. And the final clause: if I violated any of the terms, all assets in my name—including the house my parents currently lived in—would be unconditionally repossessed. The house had been a “gift” from Adrian before our wedding, but the deed was in my name. He had been shackling me all along, just waiting for me to take a wrong step. “Mrs. Thorne, if you have no objections, please sign here.” Mr. Davies offered me a pen. My hands were still wrapped in bandages. I couldn’t even hold it. The sight was both pathetic and absurd. I looked at the lawyer. “And if I don’t sign?” Mr. Davies adjusted his glasses. “You should be more aware of Mr. Thorne’s methods than I am. He won’t give you the opportunity to say no.” I laughed. Of course. How could I forget? He was Adrian Thorne, the golden child of fortune. He always got what he wanted. Including a person’s soul. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number. With my one slightly mobile finger, I managed to swipe to answer. “Is this Lina?” The voice on the other end was gentle and strangely familiar. “This is Samuel Reed.” 5 Samuel Reed. He was a senior from my university, the only person who had ever truly understood my music. We lost touch after he went abroad for his medical fellowship. “Samuel?” My voice trembled. “It’s me. I’m back in the country. Just got your number.” Samuel paused. “You don’t… sound so good. Are you okay?” I clutched the phone, my eyes darting from Mr. Davies’s smug face to the humiliating contract on the table. Tears welled up, hot and sudden. But I couldn’t cry. Not now. I sniffled, forcing my voice to sound as normal as possible. “I’m fine, Samuel. Just a bit of a cold.” “Where are you? Are you free to meet? I’m at a medical conference right near your neighborhood.” My heart skipped a beat. “I…” Adrian’s warning echoed in my ears. No unnecessary contact with any man. Mr. Davies was watching me like a hawk. I glanced out the window and saw a banner across the street: “International Medical Exchange Center.” A wild, desperate idea took root in my mind. “Samuel, I can’t get out right now. But… could you do me a favor?” “Of course. Anything.” “Call the police for me,” I said, my voice low and urgent. “The address is 22 Blackwood Lane. Someone is being held here against their will.”

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The System dropped me onto my husband’s bed. While he was in it. With his mistress. I watched, in stunning clarity, as their frantic, bare-skinned movements ground to a halt. Three of us, just staring at each other, wide-eyed in the dim light of the hotel room. With a calmness I didn’t feel, I answered the buzzing phone in my hand. “Yeah, my husband’s cheating.” “Proof? I’m sitting on their bed, watching them.” Without another word, I flipped the camera and recorded. The video captured their shocked, half-naked forms, a portrait of betrayal. “Ava, you send that out, and you can forget about ever being Mrs. Cole again!” Ethan roared. I calmly forwarded the video to the Cole family group chat, then pulled the divorce papers I’d prepared from my purse. “Sign it.” “Without me, you won’t even be able to afford your next meal!” he sneered, scrawling his name with a defiant, mocking flourish. He and his little tramp were still radiating smug confidence until they saw me step into a waiting Rolls-Royce. The looks on their faces were priceless. 1. The family group chat notifications exploded, hitting 99+ in seconds. Most were condemnations aimed squarely at me. “Every man strays, Ava. It’s natural. It’s your own fault for not being able to keep his interest.” That was his aunt. “A little fling? Honey, listen to someone who’s been around. As a woman, you need to be more forgiving.” That, from his cousin. “Is that all? I thought it was something serious. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” The Cole family vultures had always known how to pick at me. No matter what Ethan did, the fault would always be spun back to me. I let out a bitter laugh, staring at the screen. “Runs in the family, I guess. A whole clan of hypocrites.” For years, I’d swallowed their condescension because of my humble beginnings. I endured it all. But when the System unlocked a few days ago, showing me the full, sordid extent of Ethan’s betrayal, my heart finally froze over. The System gave me the courage to finally shatter the illusion. Watching Ethan sign those papers, a profound sense of peace washed over the storm that had raged inside me for so long. A genuine smile touched my lips, feeling like the first ray of sunshine after a long winter. “If I were you, Ava,” Lily, the mistress, said, her voice dripping with false pity, “I’d be on my knees, begging him for a second chance.” I tucked the signed agreement neatly into my purse. “Oh.” I paused. “I didn’t realize you were into that sort of thing. If you want to kneel for someone, find a mirror.” “You—!” Veins bulged on his clenched fist. “You’ve played Mrs. Cole for a few years and you really think your little Cinderella story was permanent?” he spat. “Without me, you’re nothing.” Seeing that I was officially on my way out, Lily’s face lit up with triumph. With Ethan’s fury as her stage, she began her performance. “Oh, Ethan, darling, I’m so sorry,” she simpered, sliding off the bed and onto her knees before me. “This is all my fault. I’m the one who drove a wedge between you and Ava.” She looked up at me, her eyes welling up with perfectly timed tears. “I shouldn’t have fallen for him. But Ava… do you know what it’s like to be sick with longing? It’s a poison, worse than anything you could drink. I tried to stay away, I really did. But when I saw him again a few days ago, I knew… I could never fight it.” Her voice cracked, a masterpiece of contrived heartbreak. “I love him more than life itself. I couldn’t torture myself any longer…” Ethan looked genuinely stunned, as if he was trying to remember when their cheap affair had developed this level of profound, earth-shattering passion. As Lily’s monologue reached its crescendo, his confusion melted away, replaced by a glistening sympathy that caught the fading afternoon light. “It was all me,” she sobbed, “I pursued him relentlessly. I’m the one who wronged you, Ava. Hit me, scream at me, do whatever you need to do. I won’t fight back. Just… please, I beg you, retract that video. Don’t let my mistake ruin his reputation.” It had been well over two minutes. The video couldn’t be retracted. This was all for show—a play to cement her image as a selfless, devoted victim. And, of course, to announce her arrival to the Cole family and pave her way to becoming the next Mrs. Cole. I stared down at her impossibly sincere face, getting my first real lesson in high-level manipulation. I crouched down, meeting her tear-filled gaze. “I remember you’ve only met Ethan twice. I’m curious. Where, exactly, did this all-consuming, unforgettable love come from in two meetings?” My eyes flicked to the man on the bed, who now seemed to be deeply moved. “Or,” I continued, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “was this whole performance just bait to hook a much bigger fish?” Ethan’s expression froze. The bedsheets crumpled in his tightening grip. His cool, detached eyes turned on Lily, now filled with a flicker of suspicion. “Lily,” he asked, his voice suddenly uncertain. “Do you really love me that much? Or are you after something else?” She barely flinched before seamlessly weaving this into her narrative. “Ethan, do you believe in love at first sight? I never did,” she said, her voice soft and wounded. “Not until I met you.” She rose gracefully, picking up her coat and draping it over her shoulders with an air of tragic dignity. “Just knowing I could feel this way is enough for me. I won’t bother you again.” And with that, she walked toward the door without a shred of hesitation. The suspicion in his eyes melted into a puddle of misplaced tenderness. He snatched a shirt and scrambled after her. “Lily!” I followed them out. Just outside the motel entrance, Ethan was gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. He used to be so cold to everyone else in the world, reserving that specific, tender gaze only for me. I couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, when he started looking at me like a stranger, when all his warmth was redirected to her. Seeing me emerge, he instinctively pulled Lily behind him, shielding her just as fiercely as he had once shielded me from his family’s judgment. “I know whether Lily’s love is real or not,” he snapped. “When did you become such a manipulative bitch, Ava? Trying to drive a wedge between us? I almost fell for it.” I just shook my head, a real smile playing on my lips. “You’re a fool.” “You know how much I hate women who play games! And to think I loved you so much. I never knew you were this kind of person.” His own mother had divorced his father over a manipulative mistress—a woman who went on to become the new Mrs. Cole and gave him a half-brother to compete for the family fortune. His stepmother, the current matriarch, was always praising him, always taking his side. But Ethan knew it was all an act, a slow and patient campaign to ruin him with kindness, inflating his ego only to watch him pop. I knew better than anyone how much he despised that kind of deception. The irony was suffocating. After being expertly manipulated by his stepmother for years, he couldn’t even recognize it when it was staring him in the face. Or maybe he was just like his father. Maybe he saw the trap clearly and walked into it anyway, willingly, for the sake of a little warmth. “For the sake of what we once had,” he said, puffing out his chest, “I’ll give you one last chance. Tear up those papers, apologize for this mess, and I’ll let you remain Mrs. Cole.” I walked past them, giving them both one last, cold glance. “One’s a performer, the other’s an idiot. You can keep the title. If Miss Mayfair here wants it so badly, she can have it.” “You’ll regret this, Ava! You’ll be begging on the streets!” 2. A low purr grew into a powerful hum, and a black Rolls-Royce Ghost glided to a stop in front of the seedy motel. The man in the driver’s seat nodded at me. “Get in.” I slid into the plush leather seat without a backward glance. In the rearview mirror, I saw Ethan’s face, a mask of pure shock. Lily stood beside him, her jaw so tight I thought her teeth might crack, her eyes burning holes into the back of my head. The car was a hundred yards down the road before I heard the faint, furious echo of Ethan’s voice carried on the wind. “Ava! You dare cheat on me with another man? You shameless whore!” … The tree shadows flickered past, never lingering, blurring into a stream of green and grey. My mind drifted back. I was adopted. My foster mother raised me, poured everything she had into my education, into making me someone. Then fate played its cruelest joke. The summer the cicadas sang their loudest, she was diagnosed with cancer. Our savings were a drop in the bucket against the cost of her treatment. So I fought my way into Ethan Cole’s company. I worked myself to the bone, shattering sales records in my first month and earning the company a three-million-dollar windfall. That single victory made my name and, more importantly, caught Ethan’s attention. But my mother didn’t survive the winter. Suddenly, my ambition had no purpose. I was adrift in grief and despair. It was then that Ethan’s constant presence broke through my walls. He married me for my talent, for the asset I was. Then, after the wedding, he asked me to be a housewife, to cut all ties with the business world. At the time, shattered by my mother’s death and exhausted from the fight, I thought he was trying to protect me, to give me a chance to rest. I agreed. Thinking back on it now, I was so naive it was laughable. A short, sharp laugh escaped my lips, startling the man beside me. He didn’t speak, just quietly opened the window and slowed the car. The cool evening air rushed in, sweeping across my face, carrying away the fresh tears that had welled in my eyes and washing away the last dregs of pain and bitterness in my heart.

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The day I found out Liam was cheating again, I let out a long, slow sigh of relief. This was the latest in a long, unbroken line of betrayals, and always with the same woman. Over the phone, his breaths were shallow and quick as he claimed to be in a meeting. I stretched languidly, gazing out the window at the endless night, and hung up. I thought of the vow we’d made so long ago: If I ever betray you, may I die a horrible death. A shame no one ever actually dies from it. But the betrayal is always real. I drafted the divorce papers. This broken, rotten marriage was over. 1. Liam came home at three in the morning. He had a satisfied, languid smile on his face as he came to wrap his arms around me on the sofa. A faint trace of perfume, a scent that wasn’t mine, drifted into my nose. The old me would have flown into a rage. Where were you? Who were you with? Why does your shirt smell like that? Then would come the screaming, the crying, the sound of things breaking. Liam would soothe me with some nonsensical excuse, and I, pathetically, would believe him. But that was the old me. The me who was obsessively, blindly in love with him. I used to spend hours staring at a photo of us at seventeen. The boy in that picture, the one who had loved me with such sincerity, was frozen in time. Before he left to study abroad in London, he’d grabbed my hands, his eyes intense. “Don’t you dare betray me,” he’d said. “Whoever betrays the other will die a horrible death.” Back then, fueled by love, even a vow that dark sounded sweet. Then came the call across time zones. A girl’s voice answered his phone, telling me he was in the shower. The call didn’t end when the water shut off. I heard their panting breaths, their quiet murmurs. I knew. I sent him a novel-length breakup text. He flew back immediately to win me over, the ghost of that same perfume still clinging to him. “Kaley, she’s just a classmate. Nothing happened. We were just out for a run.” And just like that, I believed him. It seems so absurd now. Liam’s deep voice rumbled above my head, pulling me from the memory. “Why are you still up?” Breathing in that familiar, foreign scent, I gently pushed him away. As he stared, confused, I placed the freshly printed divorce agreement on the coffee table. “Let’s get a divorce.” Liam scoffed and tried to pull me into a hug again. I shoved him off. I just sat there, watching him with an unnerving calm as his composure began to crumble. He shot to his feet, pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips. “I told you, I was in a meeting. I was late, okay? But I came home, didn’t I? I didn’t stay out all night!” 2. The midnight curfew was a rule established after one of his many betrayals. He’d promised to abide by it, and for a few weeks, he actually had, turning down after-work drinks and dinners. But he couldn’t turn down an invitation from her. I had only met Zoe once. When Liam returned for good from London, he didn’t come to see me first. She showed up at my door, asking for a pair of his underwear to bring to him. It was a blatant provocation. I shoved her out and slammed the door. But her woody, cloying perfume lingered in the apartment we had decorated together over video calls. From then on, whenever I smelled that scent on him, I knew he’d been with her. And every single time, Liam had a ready-made excuse. He’d met with her to discuss a joint business venture. He’d run into her by chance outside the office and they’d just grabbed a quick lunch. It was a class reunion; everyone was there. And each time, he would look me in the eye, his gaze achingly sincere, and swear, “Nothing happened. If I betrayed you, Kaley, may I die a horrible death.” And I would believe him. I looked up at the man who had been the centerpiece of my entire youth. All the obsession, the unwillingness to let go… it had all vanished. I couldn’t find a trace of it. Liam was still rambling, and I repeated, my voice flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” He froze, standing ramrod straight in front of me. It was finally dawning on him that this wasn’t a tantrum. It wasn’t like the other times. I wasn’t throwing things. I wasn’t screaming. I wasn’t even pointing out the evidence and demanding an explanation. I was just calmly ending it. He crouched in front of me, raising his hand to make that same, tired vow. “If I did anything to betray you, may I die a horrible death.” “Then you can go die.” His eyes widened, the color draining from his face. This time, I didn’t rush to cover his mouth, whispering, “I believe you.” This time, I accepted his offer. 3. Liam looked like a robot that had just been powered down, his hand falling limply to his side. Outside, a roll of thunder broke the silence, and the sky opened up. His phone rang, a shrill intrusion. I glanced at the screen. The contact name read, “Zoe from Accounting.” I couldn’t help but laugh. A plausible, professional-sounding alias. But I already knew. After all, what kind of colleague texts you at midnight saying, I miss you so much. There’s a thunderstorm and I’m scared. Can you come be with me? Liam declined the call. A second later, it rang again. I watched him struggle. “Go on, answer it. She’s afraid of thunder.” A tremor went through him. He grabbed my hand, his face a mask of panic. “Kaley, let me explain. She and I are just…” “It doesn’t matter,” I said, cutting him off. “We’re getting divorced. You can tell her the good news. You won’t have to sneak around anymore. You won’t have to rack your brain for those ridiculous, logic-defying excuses.” I still didn’t understand it. How could he claim to love me and then run to her bed without a second thought? And he was so good at protecting her. After that one time she came to my door, I never saw her again, no matter how hard I tried. Once, I’d followed his phone’s GPS, running through the neighborhood in my pajamas and slippers. I was going to catch him in the act, leave him with no excuses left. I beat on the door of the apartment, but there was no answer, just a heavy, mocking silence from the other side. They were in there, together. That perfume, its phantom scent, was a constant reminder that she had never really left. It was only later I realized he had installed a GPS tracker on my phone, too. He was always one step ahead. From his studies in London to his return home, through our entire marriage, Zoe had been a ghost haunting our lives. Time and time again, I would look at the face of the seventeen-year-old boy in the photo and forgive the twenty-seven-year-old man in my bed. Finally, at twenty-eight, I threw the photo in the trash. 4. I was so tired. I didn’t have the energy to believe another one of his clumsy lies. But then he did something new. He dropped to his knees and started to cry. “I was alone in London,” he sobbed. “I didn’t know anyone. I lost my wallet, all my IDs, everything. I was just wandering the streets, completely lost, and she found me. She helped me get everything replaced. She was with me through that whole dark time.” His eyes, glistening with tears, looked up at me. During those years he was away, I’d turned down every advance, every offer of a date. I wrote him letters every week, sent him boxes of homemade cookies because I was afraid he’d be lonely. I stayed up through the night, waiting for a time we could talk, telling him over and over again, I love you. I’m waiting for you. It was clear now that none of that mattered as much as Zoe’s physical presence. He hugged my legs, his face wet with tears. “Kaley, this is the last time. I’ll never see her again, I promise!” “I swear, if I ever see her again, I’ll—” “She’ll die a horrible death,” I finished for him. His mouth hung open, his face a picture of conflict. I wanted to see just how deep his feelings for her ran. I leaned back against the sofa, looking down at him. “Say it. If you two ever meet again, she’ll die a horrible death.” He closed his mouth. He lowered the hand he’d raised to swear the oath. Silence filled the room again. I watched the color drain from his face and let out a bitter laugh. His phone rang again. This time, he answered, his voice a furious roar. “Don’t ever call me again! We’re over!” He slammed the phone down and looked at me, his eyes full of desperate hope. I watched his chest heave from the force of his shouting and just felt… empty. “It’s too late, Liam.” 5. “From the moment you were in London, the two of you never stopped. I asked you, begged you, to cut ties with her, but you never did.” “You just found more secretive ways to see her. You faked a business proposal to show me, claiming you had to work with her. You helped her set up her company in the building next to yours so you could have ‘chance encounters’ and lunch every day. You organized a ‘class reunion’ where, surprise, the two of you were the only ones who showed up.” As I laid it all out, he just shook his head, muttering that it wasn’t like that. Outside, the darkness began to soften into a bruised, pre-dawn blue. A knock on the door. A woman stood there, drenched from the rain. Liam rushed to wrap her in a towel, his eyes filled with concern. Even through the rain, I could smell that familiar, woody scent. Zoe’s eyes were red as she stared at Liam. “What do you mean, ‘we’re over’?” “Didn’t you tell me you had no feelings for her? That the only reason you didn’t divorce her was because she’d take half your money?” “Why? Why are you ending things with me now?” After that outburst, Liam looked at me, his face ashen. So that was it. He was worried I’d take his money. Zoe’s eyes fell on the divorce papers on the table. She snatched them up. On the last page, my signature sat, quiet and final. Liam tried to grab the papers back, but she dodged him. “Why haven’t you signed it?” she shrieked. “She’s not asking for a single penny!” Her eyes were bloodshot, her voice cracking with desperation. I think Liam finally snapped. He ripped the agreement to shreds, shoved her out the door, and slammed it shut. From outside, we could hear her screaming curses and questions. I remained on the sofa. Liam fell to his knees again, sobbing apologies. 6. After a while, the noise outside stopped, replaced by a woman’s shocked cry. “Oh my goodness! This poor girl’s fainted!” Liam flinched, then scrambled to his feet and threw the door open. He cradled Zoe in his arms, shaking her, his voice choked as he called her name. The girl in his arms was pale and unresponsive. He glanced at me once, then scooped her up. “Kaley, I’m taking her to the hospital. I’ll be right back. Wait for me. I’ll come back and explain everything.” I watched him leave without a backward glance and wondered if he would ever really come back. I just sat there on the sofa. Waiting. At noon, I got a friend request from Zoe. She sent me a picture, a trophy of her victory. In it, Liam was asleep, his head resting on her hospital bed. Next to him was an unfolded pregnancy report. I zoomed in on the date. Two months. Two months ago, Liam had told me he was going on a week-long business trip. He’d checked in with me every thirty minutes. But even that constant surveillance hadn’t stopped him from sneaking off to be with her. He’s going to be a father. He’s mine, Kaley. Zoe’s texts popped up. I didn’t reply. I exited the chat, opened my laptop, and started revising the divorce agreement. If he was going to have a baby with her, he was damn well going to pay for it. Then I called the movers. By the time Liam came back, the living room was full of boxes. He stepped over them and found me in the master bedroom, directing the movers. “Kaley, what are you doing?” I turned to him, my voice cold. “Packing.” “Kaley, Zoe… she has some health issues. I need to stay at the hospital with her for a few days. Can you just wait for me? Please?” he begged. We looked at each other, and a sudden, morbid curiosity took hold of me. I wanted to know how he would handle the baby. A slow smile spread across my face. “Okay.” He looked immensely grateful, pulling me into a tight hug before rushing to pack a bag and hurry back to the hospital.

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1 My senior year was a blur of caffeine and code. I pushed myself to the limit studying for the coveted internship at a top tech firm—and earned first place. My boyfriend Mark ranked 42nd. We’d intern together. But then he texted: “Vivi didn’t make it. Since you got first, you can go anywhere. I declined your offer so she could get in.” Stunned, I called HR. They apologized—the spot was already filled. I checked Vivi’s social media. Her latest post: “Finally got you ” with a photo of Mark holding her acceptance letter. I took a deep breath and called my mom. “I’m done with the internship. I’m ready to take over the family business.” She sighed in relief. Then Mark messaged: “Vivi fought hard for this. Don’t be selfish—think about her for once.” I laughed—a cold, empty sound. When I called him, all the warmth was gone from my voice. “Mark, is my hard work really that worthless to you?” “I’m throwing a tantrum? I bled for that opportunity. Why the hell should I just hand it over to her? Did you even consider my feelings for a second before you made that decision for me?” On the other end, Mark sounded self-righteous, completely unapologetic. “I just figured, since you ranked first, you could get a job anywhere. Vivi isn’t like you.” “So because she’s not good enough, because she barely scraped by, you decided to sacrifice my chance for hers?” I cut him off, my voice like ice. “I’m a person, Mark, not a stepping stone for someone else.” “If you actually cared about me,” I said, my tone final, “you would never have dismissed my efforts like this.” He ignored my point completely, circling back to defend her. “How can you say that? Vivi worked really hard too! At the end of the day, you’re just not willing to make a small sacrifice for a friend. We could have all been interning together.” I let out a cold laugh. The last bit of warmth in my heart turned to frost. “Interning together.” The words were a thorn in my side. I thought he understood, that he saw the journey I’d taken. But I was just a background character in his story, a pawn to be sacrificed for the benefit of others. I didn’t argue anymore. “Then you can go intern with her,” I said flatly, and hung up. The rain continued to fall, blurring the world outside into an indistinct gray haze, just like the future of our relationship. His words were both laughable and insulting. Did I need this internship? No, not really. But what mattered to me was whether my effort, my achievement, was worthy of respect. I wanted this because he was there. I wanted to build something with him, on our own merits, without my family’s name or money. But now I understood. Some paths, you have to walk alone. 2 The next morning, our academic advisor posted a link in the group chat for us to confirm our internship placements. I took a deep breath, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. In the end, I typed in the full name of the tech firm. Mark saw the public confirmation sheet and messaged me immediately, his tone urgent. “Jane, why did you still put down the Firm? I know you’re mad, but there’s no spot for you there anymore.” “Look, I know you’re too proud to admit you have to look elsewhere, but if you submit false information, you won’t be able to graduate!” I stared at the screen and smiled. “Don’t you worry about me, Mark. I’m going to the Firm.” He was silent for a few seconds, then sent, “Is this just because you want to intern with me?” “Just listen, okay? I’ll help you look for other companies. We won’t be at the same firm, but we’ll still be in the same city!” I never realized how conceited he was. “No thanks,” I typed, then turned off my screen. For the next few days, he spammed me with job links, from “$15/hour, room and board included” to “Join our startup and build your dream!” He even sent a flyer for a part-time barista position with the note: “Just to tide you over. I can support you.” He called to ask what I thought. My reply was a single, cold word. “No.” He didn’t contact me again for days. Then he showed up outside my dorm, holding an internship agreement, the Firm’s logo emblazoned on the cover. He held it out to me, his tone a mixture of charity and pride. “I had to beg my mentor, but I managed to get you this spot. It’s not an official internship, but you can shadow the project team and learn.” In other words, an unpaid gofer. I glanced at it but didn’t take it. “Why don’t you give this wonderful opportunity to your dear Vivi?” His face darkened. “Jane, Vivi isn’t as brilliant as you. She doesn’t get as many chances in life.” I stared at him, a bitter taste in my mouth. So, the successful are supposed to sacrifice for the unsuccessful, just to give them a shot? Because the successful will just… get more chances later? The exhaustion I felt was bone-deep, his words a dull knife sawing at my heart. “Mark, I don’t have to intern with you.” His eyes widened, a flicker of panic finally showing through. Just then, Vivi walked out of the women’s dorm. Seeing the agreement in Mark’s hand, she hurried over. “Jane, Mark was just trying to help…” I cut her off, my voice calm but frigid. “Vivi, do I need his help? Do you not remember whose spot that was supposed to be?” Her face went pale, and she looked at Mark with a wounded expression. Mark frowned, pulling her behind him protectively. “That’s enough, Jane. I already went out of my way to get you this position. Why do you have to be so aggressive?” “You’re the top student, right? Just get your foot in the door and then fight for an official spot. What’s the big deal?” He said it so easily, as if all I had to do was show up to get a promotion. I stared at him in silence. Realizing he’d gone too far, his tone softened. “Jane, I didn’t mean it like that. I just think you’re so talented, you can definitely do it.” “Look, we can still work together. We can get a place together, the three of us. Work together, live together. Wouldn’t that be great?”

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In my past life, when my grandmother was on her deathbed, my twin sister and I were summoned to her side. It was time to divide the family assets. I drew the lot for the old family estate in the countryside. My sister, Iris, inherited the thriving factory. A few years later, her factory went bankrupt due to mismanagement. Meanwhile, the dilapidated estate everyone had dismissed was slated for a major development project. The government buyout made me a multi-millionaire overnight. I became the object of everyone’s envy, a nouveau-riche success story. Iris was left destitute. When I went to visit her, bringing gifts, she looked at me with pure hatred and plunged a knife into my heart. “Why should you get so much money without even trying?” she screamed. “I worked myself to the bone for that factory, and I ended up a beggar!” The pain was absolute. My consciousness faded. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my grandmother’s bedside. This time, I made the first move. “Grandma, we don’t need to draw lots. Let Iris choose first.” … 1 “Penny, don’t pretend to be so generous,” my mother snapped impatiently. “There are only two of you. As the older sister, you should listen to your younger sister anyway.” “She told you to draw first, so just do it. Stop wasting time.” I was taken aback for a second, then a bitter smile touched my lips. Iris raised an eyebrow, her voice soft. “Grandma said drawing lots is the only fair way. But since my sister is letting me go first, I suppose I’ll just…” She was the same as always—playing the part of the innocent, sweet girl while finding the perfect moment to splash mud on me. My father cut her off, ignoring her act. “Penny, you draw first.” I was surprised. My parents had always doted on Iris, giving her the best of everything. Why, on a matter this important, were they insisting I choose first? “How about this,” Grandma said, pushing herself up in bed with a cough. “No drawing lots. Let Iris pick what she wants, and Penny will take the other. It’s a good thing for a child to know how to be considerate.” Iris bit her lip, her eyes darting back and forth as if weighing a heavy decision. Then, she spoke slowly. “I… I want the old family estate.” The air in the room seemed to crystallize. A strange, heavy silence descended. I saw my parents’ eyes go wide with shock, their mouths agape. So, Iris, you were reborn too. In our last life, she couldn’t wait to draw first. This time, her performance of self-sacrifice was clearly a calculated move to avoid repeating her mistakes. A cold smirk formed in my mind. “The old estate?” my father murmured, his voice laced with disbelief. Grandma shot a sharp look at my sister, then spoke. “Then the factory will go to Penny.” No one dared to defy my grandmother. The agreements were signed right there, at her bedside. My parents then left with Iris, leaving me behind to look after Grandma. I quietly followed them out, pressing myself against the wall to overhear their conversation. “Iris, honey, what were you thinking, choosing the estate?” my mother asked, her tone thick with frustration. “You know it’s worthless! The factory has a much brighter future.” Iris was unfazed, her voice bright with a secret excitement. “You don’t understand! The estate is going to make me rich! I’ll be a millionaire!” My father just ruffled her hair, his voice dripping with affection. “Our Iris can have whatever she wants. Daddy will always have your back.” Then, he added casually, “Next time, just tell me what you want beforehand, sweetheart. You have no idea—your mother and I wrote ‘ancestral home’ on both slips of paper for the drawing.” “After your sister drew her lot, we were just going to announce the other one was the factory without even opening it.” The words were a bitter pill. It was all a setup, a scheme to ensure their precious Iris got the more valuable asset. I felt a sudden warmth on my cheek and realized I was crying. I’d always known they favored her, but why did it still hurt so much? I walked back to the room in a daze. Grandma patted the bed, motioning for me to sit. From under her pillow, she pulled out a thick file folder. “Penny, my dear,” she said, her voice weak. “I know your parents’ favoritism runs so deep it could fill an ocean.” “What’s in this folder… I suspect it’s what you’ll need most.” “When you have truly hit rock bottom, when you have nowhere else to turn, open it. Don’t tell them about it. This is the last thing your grandma can do for you.” She told me this between fits of coughing. I finally broke, collapsing into her arms, my body wracked with sobs. I wasn’t unloved. Someone in this world truly loved me. When I got home, I hid the folder in the safest place I could find. 2 The factory was on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t large, but it was well-kept. When I first arrived, the workers welcomed me with warmth and respect. For a few days, I felt like I had won at life. But I knew it was just an illusion. With Iris choosing the estate, my parents felt she had made a great sacrifice. They treated her like a fragile treasure, spoiling her beyond belief. “What does our darling Iris want to eat today?” “Lobster!” This was our daily reality. Whatever Iris wanted, she got. Designer clothes, the newest phone, luxury handbags—nothing was denied her. I would see her and my mother at the mall, hand-in-hand, and each time it felt like a needle piercing my heart. One evening at home, I glanced for a moment too long at Iris and her new shopping bags. My father’s voice cut through the silence. “What are you looking at?” he snapped. “You got the whole factory. Isn’t that enough for you?” He slammed his fork down, rattling the plates on the table. “Your sister was considerate of you. The least you can do is be grateful.” “Remember to use your earnings to buy nice things for your sister, you hear me?” I didn’t answer. I just lowered my head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. My days were a blur of work until the early hours of the morning—checking accounts, chasing orders, negotiating prices, adjusting production schedules. In my past life, my parents had handled all of this for Iris. They had indulged her every whim, even sinking a fortune into a useless raw material that never yielded a viable product. When the factory failed, they blamed their own incompetence, never once casting fault on her. “Ma’am, have you reviewed last night’s production plan?” my assistant asked one evening, his voice gentle. It was another late night at the factory. I nodded, rubbing my tired eyes. “It’s late, Cole. You should go home. Take tomorrow off.” He hesitated, then left, closing the door softly behind him. The office was quiet again. Business was stable, neither booming nor failing. I thought I could just keep things afloat, but one morning, Cole burst into my office. “Ma’am, it’s bad! Mr. Harrison just called. He’s raising the price of our raw materials by fifty percent!” The folder in my hand slipped and clattered to the floor. “Did he say why?” Cole shook his head helplessly. “Set up a dinner. I’ll talk to him. See if there’s any room to negotiate.” At the restaurant, Mr. Harrison’s smile was painfully fake. “Penny,” he said, raising his glass, “it’s not personal. The economy’s been tough. We have to make a living too.” “I understand,” I replied, matching his smile and raising my own glass. After a few drinks, he was thoroughly drunk. “Penny…” he slurred, leaning in conspiratorially. “If you want to blame someone… you should blame your parents, not me…” “It was your parents… they came to me… told me to raise the price.” “Said your sister thought a young person needed… to be tested. That it was for your own good.” The rest of his words were a drunken mumble. The room started to spin. Iris. It was you again. I tried so hard to stay out of your way, but you just won’t let me be. 3 The factory was on life support. I was spinning like a top, so busy I didn’t even have time to visit my grandmother. I’d been living at the factory for a week straight when my parents called to tell me she had passed away. I felt like I was floating, completely disconnected from my own body. “Your factory has money, doesn’t it? You can pay for the funeral,” my mother said, her tone a command. “Mom, things are tight at the factory right now. I don’t have the money…” I mumbled, ashamed. “Grandma doted on you your whole life, and you won’t even give her a decent funeral?” my father roared, his face turning purple. I had no choice. I scraped together every last penny I had and gave my grandmother a respectable service. At the funeral, my parents and Iris wept dramatically. “Iris loved her grandmother so much,” my mother told the other relatives, dabbing her eyes. “She even paid for this beautiful funeral herself.” But it was my money. I stepped forward to correct her, but my father grabbed me and dragged me into a corner. “Were you about to say something?” he hissed, his hand tight on my collar. “What is there to explain? You took the factory. This is what you owe her. So what if we ask you to spend a little money on her behalf?” His tone shifted to an accusatory growl. “Don’t you want to hear people praise your sister?” Why was it that everything I did ended up being a victory for her? A lump formed in my throat. I fought back tears and shook my head. “No.” “You’d better not. I’m telling you, if you say one word out of line at your grandmother’s funeral, you’ll regret it.” He shoved me away and went back to comforting his grieving wife and daughter. The week after the funeral, we were supposed to have a memorial dinner for the family. Of course, I was expected to pay for that, too. Iris arrived like a movie star, dressed in a new designer dress, a diamond-encrusted clutch in her hand. “My poor sister, you’ve been working so hard,” she said, feigning concern as she greeted our relatives. “The factory must be in a tough spot. But you’re determined to be an entrepreneur, aren’t you? You can’t give up over a few small setbacks.” The monumental obstacles she had created were dismissed as “small setbacks.” I nearly laughed out loud. She linked her arm through mine. “I believe in you, sister. You won’t fail right out of the gate, will you?” The relatives chuckled. “Penny doesn’t really have the makings of a businesswoman, does she?” “It’s only been a month and the factory is already on the verge of collapse.” “Honestly, Penny, you should have just given the factory to Iris. She would have done a much better job.” Their words were a physical weight on my chest. I forced a smile, my fingers gripping my napkin so tightly my knuckles turned white. “I’ll do my best,” I managed to say, the taste of blood in my mouth.

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1 I pulled my in-laws from the mudslide’s grip, hauling them onto the speedboat. Just as I caught my breath, a deafening roar split the sky. A swarm of my husband Roger’s industrial drones was diving right for us. High above, in his helicopter, he had his arm around his young assistant, watching the show with a smirk. The drones’ propellers churned the river into a vicious vortex, threatening to swallow our small boat whole. I frantically dialed his number. “Roger, are you insane? Your parents are on this boat!” A light chuckle came through the phone. “A year ago, Lila’s parents were trapped in a flash flood. You were the rescue captain, but you saved everyone else and left them to die.” “Today,” he purred, “I’m going to let you taste what it feels like to watch your family get swallowed whole.” His assistant, Lila, squealed in delight. “You’re amazing, Roger! I want to see those old geezers dragged to the bottom of the river!” The speedboat bucked violently. My in-laws clung to me, their bodies trembling. I screamed into the phone, “Roger, look closer! It’s your mother and father on this boat!” … “Still playing these stupid games, Rhea?” he scoffed. “My parents went to the chapel at Crestview Mountain for a spiritual retreat today. I dropped them at the airport myself this morning. Maybe use your brain before you start lying?” Lila snatched the phone from him. “This is what you get, Rhea! It’s karma! You let my parents die, and now you and those two old imposters can go straight to hell and keep them company!” I wanted to have my in-laws explain, to shout their identities into the phone. But they were shivering uncontrollably, their faces caked in mud, their hair plastered to their skulls in tangled knots. In their wretched state, they were unrecognizable. “You’re both completely insane!” I roared, hanging up the phone. There was no time. Any more delay and the boat would capsize. My mother-in-law’s face was a mask of pale terror as she gripped my arm. “Rhea, what’s wrong with Roger? He wouldn’t really kill us, would he? I’m his mother!” My father-in-law, a stoic man his entire life, was just as pale. I had no time to comfort them. The slightest mistake now meant we’d all be dead. The drones were creating a powerful vortex, a whirlpool trying to suck us down. “Hold on tight!” I yelled, slamming the throttle forward. Just then, a drone swooped in low. A propeller blade sliced across my cheek. “Blood! Rhea, your face!” my mother-in-law shrieked. My father-in-law roared at the sky, “Roger, you monster! That’s your wife!” I gritted my teeth, the movement pulling at the fresh wound. Damn, that hurt. Roger’s cold laughter boomed from the helicopter’s loudspeaker. “Still got the energy to curse me? Looks like you two old fools are tired of living!” The swarm of drones slammed into us. The boat rocked so violently it almost threw us into the churning water. The river poured over the sides, and the bow of the speedboat plunged beneath the surface. As we were about to be dragged under, my mother-in-law let out a scream of pure despair. The next second, a grappling hook shot down from Roger’s helicopter, clamping firmly onto the bow. My phone rang again. It was Roger. I immediately put it on speaker. “Scared yet? Sign the document in your email right now, and maybe I’ll let you live.” What in the world could he want so badly? I pulled out my phone to check. When I opened the email, my blood ran cold. It was a waiver, admitting I had intentionally abandoned the rescue of Lila’s parents and accepting full legal responsibility for all casualties in the disaster a year ago. But the flash flood was caused by Roger’s company cutting corners and violating safety codes, destabilizing the entire mountainside. Now he wanted to make me his scapegoat, and hand Lila a massive settlement in the process? If I signed this, I’d spend the rest of my life in prison. My mother-in-law leaned over, her body shaking as she read the screen. She broke down, sobbing. “That monster! How did we raise such a heartless beast?” she wailed. “He’s trying to kill his own wife, his own parents, all for that little tramp!” My father-in-law grabbed my phone and pointed it at the helicopter, his voice raw with fury. “Roger, you soulless bastard! Look at me! I’m your father! Are you going to kill your own mother and father?” “You get down here right now! I will never let my daughter-in-law sign that piece of trash!” A wave of warmth and sorrow washed over me. In three years of marriage, they had always treated me like their own daughter. But Roger just laughed. “You senile old bastard, you still think you can impersonate my father? You must be desperate to live, huh? My father is a Thorne. You think he’d be a filthy, mud-caked beggar like you? Rhea, I’m warning you, don’t push me! Sign it! My patience is running out!” Several drones revved their engines, their sharp propellers spinning towards us. One of them sliced into my father-in-law’s arm, opening a gash so deep I could see bone. “Have you made up your mind? If not, I can just send you all to hell to think it over!” “Richard!” my mother-in-law screamed, scrambling to press her hands against his bleeding wound. I stared up at Roger’s drone fleet, my gaze like ice. “Roger, you really think you’ve won, don’t you?” He snorted. “Still acting tough when you’re about to die? Your lives are in my hands!” I slowly shook my head. “You’re just a puppet, letting someone pull your strings while you convince yourself you’re avenging a lost love.” “What are you talking about?” “I’m saying you’re going to regret this. Very soon.” Lila’s shrill voice cut in. “Roger, darling, don’t listen to her lies! She’s just trying to stall for time! Kill her! Kill her now!” That was all it took. Roger’s patience snapped. “Fine! You want to do this the hard way? Then do it!” Dozens of drones simultaneously extended sharp, metallic prods. These were industrial-grade machines; a single one could punch right through our hull. I reached into my emergency pack and pulled out an object. BANG! A flare shot into the sky. Roger erupted in laughter. “A flare gun? Hahahahaha… Rhea, did the river water rot your brain? I’ve jammed every signal in this area. You could shoot a hole in the sky and no one would come to save you!” The wind howled, whipping the waves into a frenzy. My in-laws closed their eyes, their faces etched with despair. I watched the flare reach its apex and explode in a shower of sparks. “Roger,” I said, my voice calm, “do you have any idea what level of jammer is built into this flare gun?” He paused, confused. Before he could ask what I meant, his entire drone fleet went haywire. One by one, the drones faltered, then dropped from the sky like stones, sinking into the murky depths. The triumphant laughter from the helicopter died. “What happened? Roger, what’s wrong with your drones?” Lila cried. I quickly unhooked the grappling claw and gunned the engine, steering the damaged speedboat towards the shore. But Roger was enraged. He piloted the helicopter lower, pressing down on us. “You think it’s over, Rhea?” The grappling hook shot towards us again. My face paled. I grabbed my in-laws, trying to get them away. “Jump! We have to jump!” If we didn’t get out now, the helicopter’s rotors would shred us to pieces. My father-in-law shoved my mother-in-law towards me. “Rhea, get your mother out of here! I’ll hold him off!” “Richard!” she screamed. But it was too late. The metal claw shot out, impaling my father-in-law through his already wounded arm, and hoisted him into the air. He screamed in agony as blood poured down his side, staining his clothes a deep crimson. “Still talking tough, old man? Weren’t you the one who said you’d rather die than sign? Let’s see how tough you really are!” Roger swung the crane arm back and forth, dangling his father mercilessly through the air. My mother-in-law fainted from the shock, collapsing into my arms. They never should have been here. They only came to this disaster zone to clean up a mess Roger had made, and now they were being hunted down by angry victims and their own son. “Roger, stop it!” I screamed. “You’re going to kill him!” “Oh, so now you’re begging?” Roger’s laughter was manic. “Sign the document! Or I’ll drop this old bastard in the river and let him drown!” “Fine, fine, I’ll sign! I’m signing it now!” I didn’t hesitate. I opened the email on my phone and uploaded my digital signature. My father-in-law’s voice was a weak rasp. “You… you little monster… I’m your father…” After Roger received the confirmation email, his laughter turned cruel and final. “Old man, I’m done with you. And since you’re all so ungrateful, you can go down and keep Lila’s parents company!” He released the crane. My father-in-law’s body plummeted into the churning brown water and vanished. “No!” “Dad!” I lunged forward, trying to grab him, but my hands closed on nothing but muddy water. “Go on and cry, Rhea. Why aren’t you crying?” Roger taunted. “Is this how you watched Lila’s parents die? Just standing there, cold as ice?” Lila’s voice was laced with a sick excitement. “Get the old hag too, Roger! Finish her off!” My mother-in-law stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She looked around, confused. “Rhea, where’s your father?” She followed my gaze to the turbulent surface of the river and understood everything. Roger was closing in again. I had no choice but to drag her towards the shore. The downdraft from the helicopter’s rotors was so strong it nearly pinned us to the ground. I pushed her with all my might. “Mom, run! Go!” Roger had lost all control. “Game over, Rhea.” A chill ran down my spine. I looked back. He was leaning out of the cockpit, a modified nail gun in his hand. The barrel was pointed straight at us. Lila clapped her hands. “Let them feel what it’s like to have their bones shattered! Make it so Rhea can’t even crawl away!” My scalp prickled with fear. “Mom, faster!” The rocky slope of the riverbank was just ahead. If we could just climb up, find some cover… BANG! An explosion of pain in my right knee. I collapsed into the mud, unable to stand. My leg was soaked in blood, a gory hole where I could see splintered bone. “Rhea!” My mother-in-law, who had just reached the top of the slope, turned and saw me fall. Without a second thought, she scrambled back down towards me. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I screamed through the pain, “Mom, don’t come back! Run! Go find Julian! Only Julian can stop him!” Julian was Roger’s uncle, the true head of the Thorne family. If he found out what Roger had done, that he’d murdered his own father, Roger’s life would be over. “I’m not leaving you!” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “I can’t leave you alone! If we’re going to die, we’ll die together!” But she was a woman who had lived a life of comfort, not hardship. She didn’t have the strength to drag me. After a few desperate attempts, we were both sinking deeper into the mud. With a final, desperate look, she steeled herself and turned, scrambling back up the slope. “Wait for me, Rhea! You have to stay alive!” I had saved so many people in my life—from fires, from collapsed buildings, from floods. But today, I couldn’t even save myself. I pushed myself up slightly, wanting to watch her get a little farther away. But the helicopter shifted, its sights now set on the small, struggling figure on the slope. Roger raised the nail gun, taking aim at his own mother. Panic seized me. “Roger, look! That’s your mother! Your own mother!” A sneer echoed from the loudspeaker. “Rhea, are you still trying that pathetic lie?” Lila’s sickly sweet voice followed. “She’s trying to trick you, darling. Your mother is so elegant and refined. How could she possibly be that old hag rolling around in the mud?” “You’re right. My mother is sipping tea in the chapel at Crestview right now. Rhea, your time is up.” “Roger, no! If you want to kill someone, kill me!” I screamed. My mother-in-law froze on the slope, her body rigid as she looked back at me. The next second, her body was ripped apart by a volley of nails. My mind went blank. The helicopter descended, using its claw to pick up her body and drop it in the mud in front of me. I stared into her wide-open eyes, still filled with worry for me. Even in death, she was thinking of her daughter-in-law. “Nice and quiet now, isn’t it, Rhea? Enjoy the little gift I prepared for you,” Roger said. “Two old corpses. A perfect match for you.” Lila cheered. “You did it, Roger! Now those two old bastards have paid for their sins!” The helicopter landed, and Roger walked towards me, nail gun in hand. I looked at him—the man I had once loved with all my heart. Now, a demon who had just murdered his own parents. He smiled. “So pitiful. Our heroic Captain Rhea is about to meet her maker.” Lila egged him on. “Hurry up, Roger! I want to see her head explode!” I lay in the mud, the agony in my knee turning into a dull, spreading numbness. My mother-in-law’s body was right beside me. I reached out, took her cold hand, and gave it one last squeeze. “If I survive this, Roger,” I whispered, my voice a low rasp, “I will grind your bones to dust.” His laughter grew wilder. “Is that your last word? Good. I’ll send you on your way.” He raised the nail gun, aiming for my head. Just as his finger tightened on the trigger, a new sound filled the air—the thundering beat of more than a dozen helicopter rotors. They hovered above us, each one emblazoned with the Thorne family crest. Roger’s face went white as he watched a man leap from the lead helicopter.

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After the new transfer student arrived, mysterious injuries started appearing on my body. First, ligature marks on my neck. Then, bruises like fingerprints on my chest. It all came to a head during the National Scholar Championship when a wave of nausea and pain became unbearable. Just before I fainted, a stream of text floated before my eyes: [Good thing our girl is smart, seducing the male lead on purpose so the villainess screws up the competition.] [Serves that evil side character right for chasing after the male lead. This is her karma. When he gets rough and loses control, she’ll pass out and miss the whole thing. lol.] I dragged a shard of glass across my finger. The next day, the transfer student showed up with a bandage on her finger, staring at me with pure venom in her eyes. 1 Suppressed by a tidal wave of agony, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to work on the final essay question. My handwriting was a jagged scrawl. The pain in my abdomen was a relentless storm, each wave threatening to break me. The proctor noticed my distress and offered a quiet word of concern. I just shook my head, lacking the strength to even speak. I had to focus, to push through and finish the question. Another brutal cramp seized me, and I nearly dropped my pen. [Hehe, the male lead is really going for it now. The villainess still thinks she can finish the test? She’s about to pass out.] [Thank god this evil side character can absorb the damage. Otherwise, how could our girl handle this level of… intensity. ;)] [That’s why he likes our girl so much. They’re perfectly compatible. Other girls can’t handle him, but our girl can take it from start to finish.] [If it’s this wild now, imagine the ‘study session’ they’ll have before the final exams! It’s gonna be epic!] [Here it comes, here it comes—] The pen slipped from my convulsing fingers, leaving a long, black gash across the paper. A sharp cry escaped my throat before my mind went completely blank. I fainted. When I opened my eyes again, I finally understood the bizarre, floating comments. 2 The world I had lived in for eighteen years was nothing more than a trashy, erotic webnovel. The female lead they were talking about was the transfer student, Seraphina Jones. Blessed with a unique tolerance for pain, she was perfectly “compatible” with the oversized male lead, Caleb Thorne. The plot had already arranged for them to be intimately involved. And I was the villainous side character, created by the author for one purpose: to act as a pain sponge for the female lead, a tool to heighten their twisted pleasure. Suddenly, all the mysterious injuries made sense. The ligature marks on my neck last week? I’d dismissed them as my pajama strings getting tangled in my sleep. The whip-like marks on my back the other day? I’d convinced myself I’d scraped against the carved headboard. And the tearing pain in my lower body yesterday… I had been terrified I’d contracted some horrible disease. It was only now, with the explosive agony during the competition and the floating comments, that the horrifying truth dawned on me. I looked at the fresh bruises on my wrist and the red marks on my chest—they looked exactly like fingerprints, left by someone’s forceful grip. The realization of where these marks came from sent a wave of nausea through me. God, it was disgusting. I stumbled to the trash can and threw up until my stomach was empty. According to the comments, Sera and Caleb were going to ramp things up before the final college entrance exams, causing me so much pain that I’d collapse and miss them entirely. Sera would get into a top university, starting a new chapter with Caleb. My ending? I would believe I had some strange, incurable illness, and unable to bear the gossip and shame, I would commit suicide, conveniently no longer “bothering” the male lead. Perfect. Just perfect. Except… who ever said I liked the male lead? My gaze fell on the fruit knife on my nightstand. I ran my thumb along the blade. The moment the steel broke my skin, a single bead of blood, warm and crimson, rolled onto the sheet. Tomorrow, I would have my answer. 3 The next day, I was in my seat long before the first bell. Sera and Caleb strolled in late. As her almond-shaped eyes scanned the room, I caught it: a small bandage on her finger. The cut was in the exact same spot as mine. The moment Sera walked in, she launched into a tirade. “Elara, what is wrong with you? Didn’t I tell you to take care of yourself? I told you not to get hurt!” Her shouting immediately drew the attention of the entire class. And my face, which had gone cold as ice. 4 Sera was always like this. She’d boss me around and yell at me over the smallest things, but she always claimed it was because she cared, because it pained her to see me hurt. If I accidentally bumped into a desk corner, she’d curse me out for not watching where I was going, then turn around and stick a protective foam strip on it. When I’d get upset by her attitude, she’d cling to my arm and whine, “Elara, I’m just worried about you. You know I have the best intentions, right?” Because of my family situation, I’d never had many friends. Like an idiot, I saw our toxic friendship as a form of salvation. I thought her harsh words were just her way of showing she cared. It wasn’t until I saw those floating comments that I understood. Her so-called sisterly devotion was just a way to manage her personal pain sponge. To say I wasn’t furious would be a lie. But I was also morbidly curious. If my injuries appeared on her, how much of the pain did she actually feel? “Sera, you really do care about me, don’t you?” I said, drawing out the last word. She didn’t catch the sarcasm in my tone. Her eyelashes fluttered, a flicker of smug superiority in her eyes. “Of course I do. You were the first person who was nice to me when I transferred here.” I lowered my gaze, fiddling with the pen in my hand. When she was the new girl and everyone was ignoring her, I had been the one to offer her the seat next to me, to help her fit in. I was really starting to regret being so damn helpful. 5 During the morning assembly, that familiar, unbearable pain flared up again. I scanned the crowd but couldn’t find Caleb or Sera anywhere. The floating comments provided a live broadcast: [The male lead is so impatient! He can’t even wait until after morning assembly!] [Well, our girl is like a juicy peach. One taste and he’s hooked. More scenes like this, please! I’m here for it!] [Hahaha, the villainess is supposed to give a speech later. She’s going to scream in front of the whole school and make a total fool of herself—] [Isn’t that a little too harsh? The side character hasn’t really done anything bad yet.] [What do you know? The author created her specifically to take the pain so our girl doesn’t have to suffer. It’s her destiny. Besides, it’s her own fault for liking the male lead.] My heart pounded. Were these people insane? The thought that Sera was causing this, that this agony was a byproduct of her pleasure, made me want to strangle her. I didn’t care if this was a novel. I was a real person. A person with flesh and blood, who could laugh and cry, who had parents who loved her. I was not their plaything. I was not a tool. I would break the chains this world had put on me. My eyes fixed on the steps of the stage. It was about a four-foot drop. Not high enough to kill someone. In a move that stunned the entire school, I took a running leap— The comments went wild: [What the hell is this evil side character doing?!] [Is she crazy?!? Because of her jump, our girl just screamed and nearly snapped the male lead’s dick off!] [See? This is why she’s the villainess. Just causing trouble for attention. She’s going to get our girl killed!] [Uh oh, the male lead does not look happy. Do you think it’s actually broken—] 6 I landed hard. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Probably a sprain. Everyone assumed I was having a breakdown after failing the competition. Even the principal standing beside me was dumbstruck, which conveniently meant I didn’t have to explain myself. The comments, however, were tearing me to shreds: [This side character is such a bitch. She almost turned the male lead into a eunuch!] [This is probably going to give him performance anxiety. Does this mean no more spicy scenes for a while?] [Our poor girl’s ankle is all swollen now. My heart breaks for her—] 7 The assembly ended early because of my dramatic exit. I limped back to the classroom, refusing all suggestions to go to the nurse’s office. I had more important things to do. A moment later, Sera and Caleb shuffled in through the back door. Sera was limping, her eyes red and puffy. Seeing Caleb looking perfectly fine, I felt a twinge of disappointment. So it wasn’t really broken? Sera’s eyes, like a viper’s, locked onto me. Her ankle was only slightly red and swollen. The comments had made it sound so dramatic, but it was nothing compared to my own ballooning ankle. So that was it. Sera only bore half of the damage I took, maybe even less. Of course. The author’s precious daughter had to have her cheat codes. Sera stormed towards me, her face a mask of fury. 8 “Elara, are you out of your mind? What is this new brand of crazy? Your body is a gift from your parents! Don’t you ever think about how they would feel when you hurt yourself like this?” Listening to her self-righteous rant, you’d think she was my mother. And bizarrely, everyone else seemed to fall for it, whispering about how much Sera cared for me. “What’s it to you?” I retorted. “Does your family live in the ocean? Because you’re trying to manage the entire sea.” Now that I knew the truth, I couldn’t pretend for a second longer. Sera froze, shocked by my tone. “What did you just say?” she stammered, clutching her chest as if I’d wounded her. “I’m just trying to show I care, and you think I’m being nosy?” As she spoke, her eyes welled up with tears. [Ugh, this side character needs to die. She’s making our poor girl so upset.] [She’s such a bitch. Someone shows her kindness and she spits on it.] [Don’t worry, the male lead will get revenge for our girl!] Her acting was flawless. She deserved an Oscar. The other students started chiming in. “Elara, Sera is just worried about you.” “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you!” “If you ask me, Elara is just an ungrateful brat.” Buoyed by the support, Sera’s expression softened into a familiar, pitiful look. My eyes shifted to Caleb, standing behind her. So he was going to avenge her, was he? I couldn’t wait. Meeting Sera’s gaze again, I lifted my chin defiantly. “Who needs your fake concern? Don’t think I don’t know what you were up to. You were with Caleb during the assembly, weren’t you?” I needed a reason to burn this bridge anyway. Weren’t the comments always saying I was jealous over Caleb? I put on a heartbroken expression. “Caleb, are you going to deny it?” 9 They both looked guilty and didn’t answer right away. For everyone else, that was an answer in itself. Someone spoke up. “Wait, did Sera only become friends with Elara to get close to Caleb?” The tide of opinion suddenly turned in my favor. Caleb didn’t confirm or deny it, which just made me lose whatever respect I had for him. Everyone had always assumed Caleb and I, childhood friends, would get together after our exams. In reality, I knew he was a player and had zero interest in him. I only let the rumors slide because they kept other annoying suitors away. Whispers broke out. People started calling Sera a backstabber, a manipulative snake. She panicked. “That’s not it, Elara, don’t misunderstand—” She reached for me. I dodged her hand, and in a move that seemed both accidental and intentional, she stumbled and slammed her body into the corner of a desk with a loud cry. But, goddammit, I was the one who felt the pain! An explosion of agony in my abdomen. I instinctively clutched my stomach, beads of sweat popping on my forehead. All my years of refined education couldn’t stop me from wanting to scream bitch! She had done that on purpose. It was revenge. A triumphant, provocative glint flashed in her eyes before she burst into dramatic, crocodile tears. “Elara, why did you push me? I was just trying to help…” Caleb’s face turned black. The comments were frantic: [Our girl is so clever! Create a diversion so no one notices she and the male lead were stumbling out of the bathroom together.] [She went through all this humiliation for the male lead. He must be so moved.] [He would never make her keep their relationship a secret if he wasn’t worried about the evil side character causing trouble. She’s the treasure of his heart.] 10 The bathroom? My vision darkened for a second. Sera had just tried to touch my hand. I wondered if she’d even washed them. In a flash, Caleb had her in his arms, cradling her protectively. He turned to me, his voice dripping with condemnation. “Elara, you are a heartless snake. Sera was only trying to help you, and you physically assaulted her?” The pain in my stomach was so intense I couldn’t speak. To everyone else, my silence looked like a confession of guilt. Their gazes turned from sympathy to contempt. The next moment, Caleb raised his arm, his hand flying towards my face. But just before it connected, Sera pushed me aside, taking the full force of the slap herself. My own cheek burned with a phantom sting. I was officially seeing red. My eyes, locked on Sera, were practically shooting flames. “Sera, are you insane!” She held her reddening cheek and looked at Caleb with noble defiance. “She’s just angry with me, Caleb. I can’t let you hurt my best friend!” Her performance moved the entire class. “Wow, even after Elara treated her like that, Sera is still protecting her. That’s so touching.” Then, Sera turned her head slightly, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “You know, don’t you, Elara? But what can you do? You were born to be my tool.” The last thread of my sanity snapped. I scrambled to my feet and began slapping myself across the face, hard. “You’re right, you’re right, it’s all my fault!” I wailed. “I never should have tried to compete with you for Caleb, even if we did grow up together!” Smack! Smack! Smack! I put all my strength into each blow. My face instantly swelled and turned a blotchy red. I’m just a tool, right? Fine. I’ll claw my way out of this with my bare hands, and I’ll drag the author’s precious daughter down with me. A wildness entered my eyes that clearly terrified Sera. “Stop! Stop hitting yourself!” she shrieked. “I said stop!” No one else noticed, but Sera’s own cheeks were beginning to swell. The other students were just staring, completely bewildered. “Uh, Elara, you don’t have to do this… I mean, Sera isn’t entirely innocent either…” The comments were equally stunned: [Okay, what is happening? Why is the side character hitting herself?] [I think she figured out the pain-sharing thing. But isn’t this like… cutting off your nose to spite your face?] [LMAO, this side character has a certain unhinged energy I kind of respect.] [This is pathetic.]

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My nerves have been shot for weeks. A trip to the hospital confirmed it: Alzheimer’s. The doctor tried to be comforting. “Look at you,” he said, gesturing at my clothes. “Dressed in designer labels from head to toe. You must have a very happy life.” “The progression can be slowed,” he continued. “Tell your husband and children not to worry too much. Why don’t you call them in? I’ll go over the necessary precautions with them.” I opened my phone and stared at the contacts under the ‘Family’ tab. My son, who had cut ties with me the moment he moved abroad. My rebellious daughter, who hated me for breaking up her and her delinquent boyfriend. Or my husband, who was probably with his mistress right now. For a moment, I had no idea who to call. I closed the phone. “It’s fine,” I said softly. “Let’s not tell them.” This way, I can finally forget them all. 1 After I left the hospital, a rare snow began to fall over the city. I grew up in the North, in a place of deep winters. But in the thirty years since I’d married and moved south, I’d never seen a blizzard like this so early in the season. They say a good snow promises a good year. A good omen, perhaps. I squinted, the familiar route home suddenly blurry in my mind. I ended up taking a taxi. The payment app had updated, and I fumbled with it for so long the driver started yelling. After a few more struggles, I was finally home. The house was as it always was: vast, cold, and utterly silent. Not a trace of life. I numbly cleared the dining table and reheated last night’s leftovers. I’d let the house staff go a few days ago. There was no need for so many people to look after just me. Halfway through cooking, I zoned out, forgetting to turn off the stove. The pan started smoking, and I rushed to put out the small flame before it could catch. The resulting meal was a blackened, unappetizing mess. I forced down a few bites and went to bed. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Arthur came home. I heard the door open in a haze of sleep and pulled on a robe, heading downstairs. He was sitting on the living room sofa, smoking. He’d dyed his hair recently, covering the distinguished threads of silver at his temples. His face was still handsome, well-maintained with few wrinkles, and his body was lean. At a glance, he looked almost the same as he had in his youth. No wonder he has a constant stream of young women flocking to him, I thought wryly. He noticed me and stubbed out his cigarette. “Still awake?” I nodded, trying for a light tone. “Getting old. My nerves are shot these days.” For years now, Arthur had treated me with a polite, almost formal respect. A flash of guilt crossed his face. “I’m sorry. If I know I’ll be late next time, I won’t come home.” I could smell a woman’s perfume on him, a scent that was faintly familiar. I vaguely recalled it was the one his little mistress wore. Silence stretched between us. He hesitated, then decided not to hide it. “Ross came back today. We threw a welcome dinner for him. He… he probably still doesn’t want to see you after what happened, so I took Lily.” I nodded again. “Oh.” I congratulated myself internally. It was his mistress’s perfume. My memory wasn’t so bad after all. Not as bad as the doctor made it sound. “Have you eaten?” he asked, a pang of guilt in his voice. “If not, I can make you something.” I cut through his pretense. “Arthur, I need to talk to you.” I put on my reading glasses, fumbling in my handbag for a moment before I found what I was looking for. I handed him the file. He flipped through it, his expression souring as he read. I sighed. “Arthur, my mother passed away at the beginning of the year, didn’t she? I was thinking… our marriage doesn’t have to count anymore either. We’ve both lived such constrained lives, forced to marry without love. We’re old now. Let’s give each other the freedom we’ve always dreamed of, shall we?” Arthur said nothing. He simply lit another cigarette. Through the haze of smoke, I couldn’t read his face. I gave a strained laugh. “As for the children… neither of them wants me as a mother. Ross came home and I didn’t even know. You and your mistress went to his welcome dinner instead of me. I suppose I’ve been a failure in that department, too. But we’ve raised them. Their futures don’t need me anymore. There’s nothing left for me to hold on to here.” “So, sign the divorce papers. We can file them after the one-month cooling-off period.” His voice was hoarse. “We’ve come this far. Can’t we just see the performance through to the end?” I took a cigarette from his pack. “I’m tired, Arthur,” I said softly. “You and Lily have been together for years. She’s lasted longer than any of the others. When I was young, I had a temper. I couldn’t stand it. We fought constantly about your affairs, I tried to divorce you so many times, but my mother always stopped me.” “She said my family was bankrupt, that your family’s money saved us, so I had to be good to you unconditionally. No one ever cared how I felt. Over the years, the debt my family owed yours has been more or less repaid. And now my mother is gone. There’s no need to continue the show. The audience has left.” I took a long drag from the cigarette and smiled faintly. “Let’s get a divorce, Arthur. You want to give Lily a proper title, don’t you? I heard our daughter call her ‘Mom’ the other day.” After I said it all, a heavy fog settled over my mind, and everything went blank. I only remember him smoking, one cigarette after another. Finally, he rasped, “Fine.” He picked up a pen and signed his name, then grabbed his coat to leave. I stopped him. “When you have a moment in the next few days, meet me at City Hall. We need to file the application.” Seeing my resolve, a flicker of anger crossed his face. “Helena, don’t you regret this. Once we’re divorced, you can kiss the comfortable life of Mrs. Thorne goodbye.” I laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t regret it.” My entire life had already been a regret. A lifetime of emotional blackmail, of living in a haze. What could possibly be worse than that? 2 Arthur didn’t come home after that night. Ross, despite being back in the country, never came to see me. And Jenny… well, she had already accepted Lily as her mother. She was probably having the time of her life at Lily’s place right now. I remembered the fight we had before she ran away from home. It was because she’d started dating some reckless biker, skipping her university classes to go joyriding with him. I had grounded her and frozen her credit cards. She had screamed at me, tears streaming down her face. “You’re not my mother, you don’t understand me at all! Aunt Lily supports me and my true love! You’re not even a tenth of the woman she is!” I felt a wave of helplessness. I wanted to say, I’m your mother. Only your mother will ever try to guide you. Outsiders don’t care; they’ll just tell you what you want to hear to make you happy. But the words wouldn’t come out. “I hate you! You don’t deserve to be my mother! No wonder Dad doesn’t love you. You deserve to be alone!” She slammed the door and left. That night, Lily took her in and sent me a text. [Jenny’s with me, Helena. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her for you.] Back then, I still hated Lily. I didn’t want my daughter anywhere near my husband’s mistress. I sent Jenny message after message, begging her to come home. But months went by, and she never replied. … Now, I’ve made my peace with it. I don’t hate Lily anymore. To hell with Arthur, too. My children must have inherited his cold-blooded genes; they were never going to be close to me. What a failure I’ve been. Couldn’t keep my husband, lost my children, and now, in my old age, I have dementia. I’ll probably end my days bedridden. Muttering about the hardships of life, I began to pack my bags, planning to move back to my childhood home. When I was done, I put on my glasses and carefully typed a message to Jenny: [Mom is leaving. Let your father and Aunt Lily take good care of you. It’s getting cold, remember to wear a jacket.] I wanted to wait for her reply before I left. But I waited a long time, and no message came. I sighed. A daughter’s heart flies from home. I lingered on Ross’s chat window for a moment but ultimately didn’t send a message. He hated me. In his heart, he probably wished I would just die and leave him alone. My eyes stung, but no tears came. I supposed I’d cried them all out long ago. As I left the house, I felt no attachment. Only a profound sense of release. I called Arthur and told him to meet me at City Hall. I checked into a hotel near the airport and had the bellboy take my luggage up. By the time I got to City Hall, Arthur was already there, waiting with a woman by his side. My heart sank. He had to bring Lily with him, even on the day of our divorce. Just one last humiliation. Lily had endured years of being the other woman, and now, in her forties, she was about to become the new Mrs. Thorne. Her face was alight with triumph. In her eyes, I was the loser. Dressed in a chic black coat, she clung to Arthur’s arm. She put on a show of magnanimity. “Do you have any plans, Helena? It’s hard to find a job at your age, and you don’t have much savings. Why don’t you keep living in the house? I’ll have Arthur move in with me. Besides, Jenny and Ross are staying with me now, and they miss their father.” Her words were a clear provocation. Arthur said nothing. “No need to trouble yourself,” I said coolly. “I’ve already moved out. You and the children can have the house. The house, the people… they’re all things I no longer want.” Lily’s smile faltered. “Well, if you need anything in the future, just let us know. You and Arthur were married for so long, after all. We’ll help if we can.” “No, thank you. Helping me with this divorce is the greatest help you could possibly offer.” At my words, Arthur’s hands clenched into fists. We went inside. Lily waited in the car. After a long silence, he spoke. “Wouldn’t it be better to just keep things as they are?” I didn’t even look at him. “That’s what you think.” He rubbed his temples in frustration. “You’re just as impulsive as you were when you were young. Always throwing tantrums. I gave you two chances to reconsider. You didn’t take them.” “Save that good fortune for Lily. I don’t need it.” The head of the Thorne family was rarely spoken to like this. His face darkened, and he didn’t say another word. After the paperwork was done, he walked out, got in the car with Lily, and drove away without a backward glance. I clutched the divorce certificate in my hand, a wave of relief washing over me. It didn’t matter how hard the future would be. In this moment, for the first time in thirty years, I was free. 3 I spent the night at the hotel and took an early flight the next morning. Before my mother died, she left me our ancestral home in the North. After arriving, I went straight there. Staring at the dusty, long-abandoned house, I felt a pang of melancholy. I remembered the last day I spent in this house. My mother had knelt before me, her head touching the floor, sobbing. She said if I married Arthur Thorne, his family would save ours from ruin. Only I could save them. “If you don’t marry him, you are no longer a Vance! You are no longer my daughter!” On my wedding day, she offered no blessings. Instead, she sat counting the money the Thornes had transferred to her bank account, a wide grin on her face. … I closed my eyes, trying to recall some happy memories from this house, but they were all shrouded in a thick fog. The doctor said my condition would soon become moderate. I would forget many things, my movements and speech would become impaired. I might even lose the ability to talk. But I wasn’t afraid. To forget all those people and all those things before I die meant I wouldn’t have to remember them in the next life. While my mind was still relatively clear, I spent a few days cleaning the old house until it felt new again. My neighbors were a kind mother and son. When they learned I’d moved in, they often invited me over. We got along well and quickly became friends. The days passed quickly. In a blink, I had been living in the North for half a year. In the first two months, I planted a garden, spending my days watering and fertilizing. In the months that followed, I would forget to water the plants entirely. I’d wake up and just stare into space for hours, sometimes forgetting to eat. My neighbor noticed my garden had withered and that I had grown thin. She was worried. She invited me to her house for dinner. When the food was served, I couldn’t remember how to use chopsticks. Panicked, I reached for the food with my hands. “Helena!” she cried, gently stopping me. She stared at me, a look of realization dawning. “Are you… are you ill?” It was only then that I realized what I was doing. The shame was overwhelming. I wanted to run, to disappear. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be sick anymore. In the later stages of this disease, I might lose my dignity entirely. I had spent my life valuing etiquette and propriety. I couldn’t accept becoming a person without a sense of shame. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say, the words feeling foreign in my mouth. I realized I hadn’t spoken in a long time. “It’s okay, Helena. I understand what’s happening. We’ll take care of you.” “That’s right, Aunt Helena,” her son, a young boy named Leo, added. “I’ll come visit you often. Please don’t cry.” He took a napkin and gently wiped my cheek. I realized then that I was weeping.

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I was seven years his senior. The first time I saw Leonard, he was fighting stray dogs in an alley for scraps. His eyes were pure wolf—feral, vicious. So I took him in. I molded him from nothing. In ten years, he went from a penniless street rat to Sterling City’s most sought-after CEO. I considered him my finest creation. Until a girl brazenly blocked my car, hand on her stomach, playing a voice recorder: “Leonard, who do you like more? Me, or that old hag?” His voice, colder than I knew: “She’s past her prime. I’ve always hated how she looks down on everyone.” I smiled. Success had made him forget the days he groveled at my feet like a dog. The next day, I sent a gift box to his office—inside, the bloodied remains of a stillborn fetus. He pressed a gun to my forehead, eyes bloodshot: “Nora…” he gritted, venom in each syllable. I sipped my tea calmly. “It seems you’ve forgotten what I’m capable of, Mr. Kane.” Leonard’s face was a mask of fury. “You think I won’t pull the trigger?” he snarled. He was no longer the scrawny boy I’d found. Years of navigating a cutthroat world had forged an aura of deadly authority around him. But I just smiled and shook my head. “If I were you, I’d waste less time talking.” Leonard froze. From behind him, a faint noise scraped against the floor-to-ceiling window. He whipped his head around, his expression twisting into horror. The girl, Sienna, was dangling outside the seventy-second floor, her hands bound. Her white dress billowed in the wind, the yawning abyss just beneath her feet. “I’d be careful, if I were you,” I said, my voice a silken threat. The cold steel of the gun didn’t faze me. “After all, if your hand slips… I die, and your little darling gets splattered into a paste on the pavement.” I gave a mock sigh. “Two birds with one stone… oh, wait. Only one bird now, I suppose.” Sienna’s wails were carried by the wind. “Leonard, save me!” Leonard’s eyes were wild, crimson-rimmed. He flicked off the safety with a sharp click. “Nora, you wouldn’t dare!” My bodyguards instantly moved to surround him, the air crackling with tension. A bloodbath was imminent. I waved a lazy hand. “All of you, out.” Then, in one fluid motion, I drew a dagger and, without even looking, plunged it deep into his abdomen. He let out a choked gasp, but the gun pressed even harder against my temple. “Does it feel good?” I murmured, my voice like a lover’s whisper. Leonard’s face was a stone mask. “Are you satisfied? Let her go.” “Sienna isn’t like you. She’s just a naive girl who doesn’t know anything.” Leonard’s men arrived swiftly and pulled Sienna back to safety. I never intended to actually harm her. I watched as he held her, whispering soothing words, cradling her as if she were a priceless, fragile treasure. And suddenly, I felt a profound sense of weariness. He used to hold me that way. After our enemies took their revenge, after I lost our child and with it, the ability to ever have another. She was a girl, already perfectly formed. We had named her Lily. Leonard built a shrine for her, commissioning a gilded memorial at immense cost. “Nora,” he had said, his voice raw with grief, “our daughter will have a peaceful life in the next world.” He wanted a constant stream of prayers and candlelight to watch over her soul. I once asked him why he’d gone to such lengths. His face was unshaven, his eyes hollow, but his voice was unwavering. “Because Lily is the only child I will ever have.” Now, my gaze fell upon the gift box on his desk. You broke your promise, Leonard. But don’t worry. I’ll help you remember it. Sienna, having cried her fill, glared at me with swollen, hate-filled eyes. “Leonard, it was her! That bitch killed our baby!” Leonard’s expression flickered. He gently stroked her hair, his voice devoid of emotion. “You’ve overstepped.” Sienna’s sobs caught in her throat. She didn’t know. No one had told her that after we lost Lily, the very mention of a child became a forbidden word in our world. It was a wound that never closed, a shared agony between Leonard and me. But Sienna was an outsider. She just kept crying, her sobs designed to break a man’s heart. Leonard swept her up in his arms as she fainted, shouldering past me and striding out of the room. “Nora,” he threw over his shoulder, his voice a low growl, “I won’t forget this.” I just didn’t expect his retaliation to come so quickly. As my subordinate delivered his report, I stroked the cat purring on my lap, a profound boredom settling over me. “Mr. Kane outbid us for the Southside property, paying double the market price.” “Mr. Kane is covertly meeting with shareholders to acquire a controlling interest.” “Mr. Kane… has demolished the shrine built for Miss Lily.” My hand tightened, and the cat cried out, cowering in my lap. “Say that again.” My face was impassive. My assistant swallowed hard. “He tore it down, sir. He said… he’s going to build an amusement park for… for his mistress. They broke ground this morning.” CRASH! The teacup in my hand shattered against the wall. The assistant bowed his head. “I’ll handle it immediately!” I held up a hand. “No. I’m going myself.” By the time I arrived, half the shrine was already rubble. Sienna was holding a balloon, skipping around and directing the demolition crew. “Clear that section out completely! And over here, Leonard, I want to put a carousel right here!” Leonard just stood beside her, a gentle smile on his face as he watched her. To any outsider, they looked like a perfect, adoring couple. If only they weren’t standing on the grave of my daughter’s memory. I stepped out of the car. Someone spotted me and started to speak, but the sight of me drawing a gun froze the words in his throat. Sienna turned. “Miss Nora…” I raised my arm and fired. POP! The balloon in her hand exploded. “Ah!” she shrieked, scrambling behind Leonard for cover. “Are you insane?!” Leonard roared. I said nothing. I strode towards the wretched pair, chambered another round, and fired again into the air. The two shots silenced the chaos. Everyone stared at me as if they’d seen a ghost. “Get out,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. Leonard frowned. “Nora.” “GET OUT!” I bellowed, a raw, primal scream. It had been years since anyone had pushed me to the edge of my control. No one dared to move. But Sienna, emboldened, peeked out from behind Leonard, her eyes glinting with defiance. “Miss Nora, what’s the point in letting the dead hold onto so much? It’s the living that matter, isn’t it?” At her words, Leonard instinctively pulled her further behind him, shielding her body with his own. He was afraid. Afraid I would hurt his precious girl. He knew exactly how I would react to that statement.

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