The day Arthur Pierce, the man who raised me, hit number one on the Forbes list was the same day a girl in rags appeared on our doorstep. The moment he saw her, tears of pure joy streamed down Arthur’s face. It jarred a memory loose—something he’d told me years ago about a daughter who had vanished without a trace, a decade-long silence that had carved a hollow space in his heart. The girl, Chloe, looked me up and down with a wounded expression. “Dad, is that your love child?” A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Seeing me standing there, so clearly at home, ignited a fire in her eyes. “What are you laughing at? I’m the real daughter of this house!” Arthur was, in fact, the legal guardian my parents had named in their will. The moment I turned eighteen and signed the final inheritance papers, his role would legally revert to what it had always been in practice: the steward of my family’s estate. A steward’s daughter calling me his illegitimate child? The irony was so thick I could have choked on it. 1 Arthur cut her off, his voice strained with embarrassment. “Chloe, darling, she’s not my daughter. She’s—” Chloe immediately switched gears, adopting the air of a long-lost princess. She gestured at me with a flick of her wrist. “Then she must be the maid. Hey, you. Take my bag.” She tossed a grimy canvas duffel onto the marble floor at my feet. With a sigh, Arthur picked it up himself, treating her outburst like a childish tantrum. “Chloe, this is Ava Sinclair, the daughter of my dearest friends. Her parents passed away, so she’s been staying with us.” He shot me an apologetic look, and I gave a slight nod to show it was fine. I’d been living with Arthur for eight years, ever since I was secretly flown back to the States after the accident that killed my parents. If it weren’t for him, I have no doubt I would have ended up dead at the hands of the relatives circling my family’s shares like vultures. He had just found his daughter; the last thing I wanted was to spoil this moment for him. But it was quickly becoming clear his daughter was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. Chloe’s lip trembled, and fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. “Dad, look at her. She’s glowing. Does she look like someone who’s living on charity?” Her voice cracked. “I was kidnapped, sold to some backwoods family, treated worse than dirt. Why does she—an orphan—get to live like this?” Arthur’s face crumpled with pain. He pulled her into a tighter embrace. “My poor girl. You’ve suffered so much. We’ll call the police, have them all arrested.” But Chloe suddenly grew evasive, muttering only that she was too traumatized to remember the details. Arthur had no choice but to let it go, promising they would talk about it when she felt stronger. That evening, Arthur had our cook, Maria, prepare a feast to welcome Chloe home. Chloe sat in silence at the dining table, then her eyes welled up and she slammed her silverware down. The clatter echoed in the cavernous room. “After I was taken, all I ever got to eat was stale bread soaked in vegetable broth. But an outsider like her gets to eat like a queen.” Arthur stroked her hair, his voice gentle. “From now on, Chloe, you can have anything you want.” Her gaze sharpened, and she pointed at a dish of seared scallops I’d been enjoying. She flicked her fork in my direction, splattering sauce on my silk blouse, and turned to Arthur with a sob. “I think you mean she gets whatever she wants! You remember her favorite foods, but you completely forgot that almost everything on this table could send me into anaphylactic shock!” Before Arthur could respond, Chloe’s voice dropped to a mournful whisper. “Of course, it’s been ten years. I wasn’t the one by your side. If I hadn’t risked my life to escape, would you have even remembered you had a daughter?” Guilt washed over Arthur’s face. The performance was so transparent it turned my stomach. I dabbed at the stain on my blouse with a napkin and signaled to Maria. “Maria, I’m finished. Since Miss Pierce is allergic, perhaps you should clear these dishes.” A flicker of triumph crossed Chloe’s face, but then I continued, “And could you please book an appointment for Miss Pierce tomorrow? I’ll take her to an allergist myself.” I smiled sweetly at her. “If the tests come back negative, it means you were intentionally trying to provoke me. And you will offer me a formal, bowing apology.” Arthur’s head snapped up. He opened his mouth, then closed it, turning instead to his daughter. “Chloe, that’s enough.” Seeing that her father wasn’t taking her side, Chloe let out a wail and swept the plates and glasses off the table. They shattered on the floor. “You’re so biased! And you still say she’s not your secret daughter! If you two are so close, then there’s no reason for me to be here, getting in your way!” She snatched her wretched bag and stormed toward the door. Arthur scrambled after her, nearly tripping over his own feet. “I only have one daughter, Chloe! It’s you!” It took a long time, and the promise of an extravagant shopping spree, before he could coax her back inside. As I rose to go to my room, I paused beside Arthur. I spoke softly, for his ears only. “Arthur. On your account, she gets four chances. Only four.” 2 His body went rigid, and a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. He knew exactly what I meant. My patience had a limit. And after the fourth time, Arthur’s position as even a steward in this house would become untenable. But Chloe seemed determined to make everyone miserable. Just as I was getting ready for bed, a loud, insistent banging rattled my door. I opened it to find Chloe leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a smirk on her face. She jabbed a thumb down the hall. “I want that room, the one on the left. The staff said you’re the only one with the key.” I glanced in the direction she was pointing. Of the seventeen bedrooms in this mansion, she had to pick the one that had belonged to my parents. “Absolutely not. That was my parents’ room.” Her face hardened. “What damn parents? Let’s get something straight. Your parents are dead. My dad took you in out of pity.” Her voice dripped with venom. “Oh, I get it now. You and your parents are all just parasites. A whole family of leeches, sucking my father dry.” My voice dropped to a dangerously low temperature. “This is my house, not a stage for you to play princess. You’re back now, so you will follow my rules. And if I ever hear you speak about my parents again, you and your father will be out on the street together.” Before she could retort, I slammed the door in her face. Silence fell outside. For a moment, I thought that was the end of it. Then came a deafening crash. The wall beside my bed shuddered. I threw the door open. Chloe was standing in the hallway holding a hammer, the door to my parents’ suite hanging splintered from its hinges. She swaggered inside. I rushed after her, planting myself in her path. “Chloe! You touch one more thing, and I swear to God, you will be out of this house tonight!” She shoved me hard, sending me stumbling backward, and raised the hammer as if to strike. A deep, authoritative voice boomed from behind us. “Chloe! That’s enough! Pick another room!” Arthur strode toward us, his face a mask of stern disapproval. Chloe dropped the hammer, her entire demeanor shifting back to that of a wounded animal. “Dad, I slept in a pigsty in the countryside. Now that I’m home, all I want is a room of my own. Is that too much to ask?” I saw the resolve in Arthur’s face begin to crumble, replaced by that familiar, gut-wrenching pity. I knew he was about to give in. I let out a cold laugh, ready to blow the whole charade wide open. But Arthur caught my eye, his expression pleading, begging me not to expose his true role as steward. I understood. He couldn’t bear to lose face in front of the daughter he had just reclaimed. I wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of my lip where I’d bitten it. My voice was ice. “Arthur. This is the second time.” He sighed, a sound of profound defeat. “Chloe, I’ll take you to a hotel. We can find our own place.” Chloe looked at him in disbelief. “Dad! This is our home! Why should we be the ones to leave?” Her voice rose to a shriek. “I knew it! She is your love child! Why else would you treat her like this?” Arthur raised his hand, and for a second, I thought he would strike her. But it fell, limp, to his side. “Chloe, how many times do I have to tell you she is not my daughter!” It was like talking to a brick wall. Arthur’s shoulders slumped, the weight of the last decade suddenly crashing down on him. Seeing that I wasn’t going to stop him, he nodded grimly and took Chloe’s arm to lead her away. That finally broke her. Chloe panicked, dropping to her knees in front of me, her sobs wracking her body. “I’m sorry, Ava, I’m so sorry! I was wrong! I was just being stupid and jealous, fighting with you over my own father.” Her words were slick with false sincerity. “I know Dad worries about you, that he favors you because… because of your situation. I’m willing to be your sister, your real sister. Please, don’t make us leave.” I ignored her completely. My gaze was fixed on the new strands of gray at Arthur’s temples, and I thought of all the years he had protected me, cared for me. My resolve softened, again. Thankfully, a quick check of my parents’ room showed that nothing inside had been damaged. “Fine, Arthur,” I said, my voice weary. “My parents asked you to look after me until I come of age. That time isn’t up yet. Just make sure this doesn’t happen again.” The light returned to his tired eyes. “Thank you, Ava,” he whispered, his own eyes glistening. “Thank you.” To avoid Chloe, I left for school early the next morning. I figured she would lay low for a while. I was wrong. She was in my homeroom. When our teacher, Mrs. Davison, introduced her, Chloe stood before the class, looking shy and vulnerable. “Hi, everyone. My name is Chloe Pierce. I was… I was kidnapped ten years ago and grew up in a rural community. I was just found a few days ago.” Ignoring all social norms, she launched into a harrowing, detailed account of the abuse she had supposedly suffered. The other students were captivated, their faces a mixture of horror and pity. Even Mrs. Davison’s eyes were red. Chloe basked in the sympathy, then her gaze landed on me, sitting at my desk, trying to focus on a calculus problem. Her voice dripped with insinuation. “Of course, for all these years, I have to thank Ava Sinclair. She’s been a great comfort to my father… like a real daughter.” She deliberately left it vague, planting seeds of pity for herself and suspicion about my role in her family. It was another miscalculation. I looked up from my notebook and smiled brightly. “It’s true! Arthur has been more of a father to me than I could have ever wished for.” My classmates nodded in agreement. “Totally! Remember last year when Ava just scraped her knee in gym class, and Mr. Pierce drove through that insane thunderstorm just to take her to the ER himself?” one girl said. “And when she won the state debate championship, he was so proud he bought the entire class new iPhones,” another added. Chloe thought my being an orphan was a shameful secret, that Arthur’s affection for me was some dark taboo. In reality, everyone at Northgate Prep knew my story, and I’d never cared what they thought. Seeing that her attempt to isolate me had backfired, and hearing about the kindness Arthur had shown me, Chloe finally snapped. Her face contorted with rage, and her voice was shrill. “You’re his illegitimate daughter! Do you really think just because my dad bought you a few nice things, you’re entitled to his fortune?” 3 Her words hung in the air. Every eye in the classroom swiveled toward me. “So Ava is his love child? No wonder Mr. Pierce spoils her so much.” “Wait, so is she trying to steal Chloe’s inheritance? If I were Chloe, I’d be furious.” I set down my pen. That’s three, I thought, a cold knot tightening in my stomach. I leaned back in my chair, meeting Chloe’s triumphant glare. “Chloe, I’ll say it one more time. I am not your father’s illegitimate daughter.” “If you’re not his love child, then you’re just a gold-digger who’s clawed her way in! Why else would my dad be so good to you?” Chloe preened, crossing her arms as she soaked in the judgmental stares being directed at me. She cleared her throat, preparing for her next salvo. “On the day of my eighteenth birthday party—” I’d had enough. I tossed my pen onto my desk, the plastic clattering loudly in the silent room, and stood up. My voice was clear and steady, cutting through her tirade. “Chloe and I will be having a joint coming-of-age party. I invite all of you to be there. As for who I am… Arthur will make everything clear then.” “Ava, you—!” Chloe started to protest, but Mrs. Davison intervened, restoring order. For the rest of the day, Chloe’s eyes burned holes in my back. That night, she knocked on my door again. When I opened it, she was leaning against the wall, oozing self-satisfaction. “I saw the papers on Dad’s desk. An asset transfer agreement. I guess he’s ready to hand over the company now that I’m back.” She twirled a strand of hair, her expression insufferably smug. “Ava, what does it matter if you spent ten years with him? In his heart, I’ll always be the daughter he loves most.” Her confidence was so absolute, I couldn’t be bothered to correct her. I was almost looking forward to seeing the look on her face at the party. Arthur having a daughter like this was a truly spectacular stroke of bad luck. But the real disaster struck sooner, at the Sterling Corp new product launch. Even though my identity was still a secret, as the future head of the company, I was always present at major events, seated as a guest of honor to stay informed. I never imagined Chloe’s drama would follow me here. I was holding a microphone, about to offer a few remarks from my seat, when an angry voice cut through the air. “Get out of the way. You have no right to sit in the front row.” Chloe snatched the microphone from my hand. She scanned the massive auditorium and spoke with ringing self-importance. “Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Chloe Pierce, and I am the sole heir to Sterling Corp!” A wave of shock rippled through the audience of several thousand people. “Is that her? The mysterious heir who’s supposed to take over Sterling Corp when she turns eighteen?” “This is so sudden. I didn’t hear anything about an official announcement today.” Hearing the buzz, Chloe’s certainty swelled. “That’s right! I am the mysterious heir! And on the day of my eighteenth birthday, I welcome you all to—hey!” She didn’t get to finish. I gave a subtle nod to the security detail, and two guards moved in, swiftly escorting her away. Chloe thrashed and screamed, “Let go of me! How dare you treat the heir of Sterling Corp this way! I want your names and badge numbers!” Arthur, who had been frozen in shock, finally snapped out of it, burying his face in his hands with shame. The event had descended into chaos. I suppressed my fury, stood up, and faced the press, taking control. “That was just a small, unfortunate interruption. Regardless of who the heir is, the strength of a company lies in its products. I hope we can all return our focus to the exciting innovations Sterling has to share today.” The ride home was thick with an icy silence. I scrolled through the headlines already exploding on social media. Arthur’s face was ashen. “Ava, I am so sorry. I’ve been far too lenient with her. I just thought… she’s just returned, and she’s so sensitive. Her heart is in the right place, I know it is. I’ll be stricter with her from now on.” “Mr. Pierce,” I said, my voice flat. “This was the third time. You had better pray this doesn’t turn into a PR scandal for the company. Because if it does…” He flinched. It was the first time in eight years I had called him Mr. Pierce. The look I gave him was as cold as a glacier. He nodded frantically, wiping sweat from his brow. But when we walked through the front door, the scene that greeted us made my entire body tremble with a rage I had never known. 4 The door to my parents’ suite was smashed to pieces. Inside, everything that held a memory of them—their books, their art, the furniture they’d chosen together—had been systematically destroyed. My hands shook as I picked up the shattered frame of my parents’ wedding photograph. Tears dripped from my chin onto the broken glass. “Chloe! Get down here now!” I screamed. Chloe sauntered down the grand staircase, a cosmetic face mask on, looking annoyed at being disturbed. I slapped her across the face with all the strength I had. She clutched her cheek, her eyes blazing with crimson fury. “You hit me? I’m about to be the heir to the company! And this house is mine anyway! I can do whatever I want with it!” “Lock her in her room,” I commanded the household staff. “Let her sit in there until she comes to her senses.” At my sharp command, several staff members, their faces grim, escorted a protesting Chloe upstairs. Arthur didn’t dare approach me. He stammered, “Ava—” I cut him off, my voice devoid of all warmth. “That was the fourth time. It seems you are incapable of controlling your daughter, Mr. Pierce. Don’t worry. I’m more than happy to do it for you.” Later that night, as I passed Chloe’s room, I heard voices from within. A man’s voice, flirting with her. It was disturbingly familiar. My eyes widened. No. That voice is… A cold dread washed over me. I pulled out my phone and called the one board member who knew my true identity, a man who had been my father’s closest confidant. “I need you to investigate something for me. And I need the results before my birthday.” After hearing my suspicions, his tone grew heavy. “Consider it done, Ava. You’ll have everything you need.” Chloe wasn’t let out of her room until the day of our joint eighteenth birthday party. The grand ballroom of our estate was filled to capacity. Reporters from major financial news outlets were interviewing Arthur. The entire Sterling Corp board was present, along with our most important business partners. Chloe, for once, had shed her usual belligerence. She approached me with a glass of champagne. As she raised it, she leaned in and whispered smugly in my ear, “Dad let me out today for a reason. He’s obviously going to make a big announcement. Just you wait.” I walked right past her, joining a conversation and clinking glasses with our guests. Chloe tried several times to interject herself, but each time, Arthur pulled her aside, his face stern. “Chloe, I am warning you for the last time. Do not cause a scene. Tonight is Ava’s night.” She feigned compliance, tugging at his sleeve. “Dad, that asset transfer agreement… we’re signing it today, right?” Arthur pulled his arm away, his expression unreadable. “Don’t ask questions you don’t need the answers to.” He didn’t see the look on her face as he turned away—the pure hatred, the way her nails dug into her own palm. “Once I expose everything,” she muttered to herself, “you’ll see that I’m the only one who should be signing anything.” Finally, at the pinnacle of the evening, the moment everyone was waiting for, Arthur had his assistant bring out the asset transfer agreement. He took a deep breath and looked directly at me. “As of today, I am officially announcing that all shares of Sterling Corp, along with all assets transferred to my name ten years ago for safekeeping, will be signed over in their entirety to Miss Ava Sinclair!” A spotlight instantly found me. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me, burning with curiosity and envy. A wave of applause and murmurs filled the room. I smiled, accepted the portfolio containing the documents, and was about to sign. CRASH. The champagne flute in Chloe’s hand shattered on the floor. Her body trembled, her face a mask of utter disbelief. “Dad!” she shrieked. “Why are you giving your assets to her? I’m your daughter!” For the first time, Arthur’s voice was pure steel as he roared at her. “Chloe, that is enough! One more word and you are out of here! Ava Sinclair is the one and only heir to Sterling Corp, and that is final!” Chloe’s eyes filled with a venomous hatred. She produced a sealed manila envelope and held it high in the air. “I don’t think you’ll feel that way after you see this! This document will prove that I am the only person who has the right to sign those papers!” The ballroom fell silent. Hesitantly, Arthur took the envelope. He glanced at its contents for only a second before his face went pale. He reached over and took the portfolio back from my hands. His expression was a turmoil of confusion and pain as he looked at me. “The transfer of shares and assets is postponed!”

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For three months, I’d been scouring the city like a woman possessed. Three months since Caleb, my supposedly broke, post-grad boyfriend, had vanished into the night air. I’d even taken a job as a courier, a delivery driver on a beat-up scooter, just for the excuse to crisscross every neighborhood, to peer down every alley, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. That’s how I ended up at The Sterling Gallery, delivering a rush document. And that’s how I saw him. Dressed in a suit so exquisitely tailored it probably cost more than my college tuition, looking utterly serene as he raised a paddle to bid on a piece of antique jewelry. Thirty-two million dollars. A stunning woman beside him, all shimmering hair and a killer smile, laughed lightly. “Still the last of the big spenders, Caleb.” He gave her cheek a familiar, affectionate pinch. Someone nearby chimed in. “And he’s got a soft heart, too. Finally cut ties with that little charity case he was slumming it with.” Then, his gaze shifted. And it landed squarely on me. Everything descended into chaos. 1 “Twenty million.” “Twenty-three.” The bids volleyed back and forth, the auction hall electric with tension. I stood at the entrance, the whole scene laid out before me. A man in a sharp suit hurried over, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Thank God, you made it.” I handed him the document folder with a practiced smile, my blue courier jacket feeling a size too small under the weight of the chandeliers. “You call me, it gets there. Fast and on time.” This was an express job; I was hoping for a good review. The man gave me a quick once-over. “Alright, come in, grab a bottle of water. Just… stay out of the way. And for God’s sake, don’t disturb the guests.” He led me down a corridor flanking the main hall. Ahead, an open, unglazed archway—some kind of European affectation—offered a perfect, hidden vantage point. I glanced through. Just in time to see a hand lift a bidding paddle. On the wrist, a simple red cord bracelet. The contrast against the crisp, white cuff was stark under the spotlights. My breath hitched. I instinctively ducked back behind the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Hey,” I said, forcing a smile, trying to look like some wide-eyed kid who’d never seen real money before. “What’s the main event in there?” The man arched an eyebrow. “A playground for the rich.” Just then, the sharp crack of a gavel echoed through the hall. “Sold! For thirty-two million dollars. Congratulations to Mr. Hayes.” The suited man let out a low whistle. “That Caleb Hayes… looks young, but he’s the real deal. Dropping thirty mil on some old royal necklace like it’s nothing.” I barely heard him. A single thought consumed me, squeezing my heart tight. Mr. Hayes? But… he was broke. Wasn’t he? 2 I’d been searching for Caleb Hayes for three solid months, ever since he’d disappeared from our tiny apartment in the middle of the night. I’d quit my other gigs to take this courier job because it kept me moving, always looking. Every delivery was a chance to scan a new face, a new building. I watched the local news every night, terrified I’d see his face in a police report or an obituary. The applause inside the gallery was polite but firm. The lights all converged on the necklace, its diamonds scattering a brilliant, painful light across the room. It burned my eyes. I didn’t go in. I couldn’t. I just risked one more glance through the archway. He was in a casual but clearly expensive suit, his head tilted slightly as he spoke patiently to the woman beside him. He looked like he belonged there. Nothing like the man who shared my cramped, messy life. She was gorgeous. A cascade of auburn waves, makeup so perfect it looked like it was part of her skin. She didn’t need spotlights to shine. And the man on Caleb’s other side… I knew him. Rhys. Caleb’s best friend from his prep school days. They were all laughing, talking easily, as if thirty-two million dollars was just a number, a stray thought. “Damn, man. Good to have you back,” Rhys said, clapping Caleb on the shoulder. “A hell of a lot better than playing house with that sad-sack artist.” Caleb pressed the palm of his hand against Rhys’s forehead, a playful shove. “Don’t remind me. I almost forgot what it felt like to spend money.” The woman giggled, leaning into him. “Only thirty million, Caleb? Is that all?” Even from here, I could smell a perfume that was probably worth more than my scooter. “If you’re feeling so generous, maybe you could buy me those earrings I wanted?” Her eyes were intoxicating, alluring. “You did complete my little assignment, after all. You know I always reward good behavior.” Rhys let out an exaggerated laugh. “Jesus, Sloane. If the poor girl knew this was all just a game for you, she’d probably have an aneurysm.” Sloane’s expression was placid, almost bored. “I just wanted to see what a real-life Cinderella story looked like. It was disappointing.” Caleb squeezed her face again, a fond, indulgent smile playing on his lips. “You’ve been impossible since we were kids.” She pouted. “Whatever. Just make sure you wash the smell of that girl off you before tonight. Or you’ll be sorry.” I saw a flicker of something in Caleb’s eyes. Lust. Desire. He leaned in and whispered something in Sloane’s ear, a look I had seen a thousand times, a look I thought was reserved for me. “Is that a promise?” They shared a private smile, the possessiveness in his eyes utterly naked. Rhys just laughed again. “Classic Sloane. You’re the one who told him to go date the broke girl in the first place, and now you’re the one who’s disgusted by it. You never change.” “That was then,” she said, and for a split second, her eyes flicked toward the archway. Toward me. I flinched back, my blood running cold. I shouldn’t have looked again. I should have just run. But my feet were rooted to the spot, and I saw her mouth form the words, clear as day. “This is now. And now, he’s mine.” 3 Caleb was always perceptive. The next second, our eyes met across the cavernous room. Panic seized me. I spun around and bolted. I could hear the scrape of a chair, the frantic sound of footsteps on polished marble. Just as I reached the main exit, a hand clamped down on my arm. Caleb. “Mr. Hayes,” I mumbled, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. I stared at the red cord on his pale wrist. It looked so wrong now, so out of place. “Leah? What are you doing here?” I sniffled, forcing myself to look up. “Can’t you see, Mr. Hayes?” Rhys and Sloane had followed him out, their expensive shoes clicking on the floor. “No,” I corrected myself, a bitter taste in my mouth. “I guess I’m the one who’s been blind.” The judgment in their three pairs of eyes was suffocating. They looked at my blue courier uniform, the company logo stitched plainly on the chest. Caleb’s brow was furrowed in a tight knot. Sloane stamped her foot, a petulant little motion. “Caleb, don’t tell me you actually fell for her?” As if her words had burned him, Caleb snatched his hand back from my arm. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black credit card. “Here. It’s linked to my main account. Take it.” I didn’t move. I just stared at the card, cold and dead in his hand. “What is this, Caleb? A severance package?” I let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t worry. The cheap crap in our old apartment isn’t worth a fraction of this.” His face hardened with frustration. “Then what do you want?” What do I want? He had the audacity to ask me that. I doubled over, a laugh escaping my lips that sounded more like a sob. I looked at him, at the two people flanking him like designer-clad vultures, and my voice went cold and sharp. “I told you, Caleb Hayes. The one thing I can’t stand is being lied to.” Sloane rolled her eyes. “So much drama.” It was a quiet comment, but in the tense silence, it landed like a slap. It was meant for me to hear. “Sloane, don’t,” Caleb snapped, but it was the tone you use on a misbehaving puppy, not an equal. 4 I’d heard that tone before. When I was a kid and my cousin would come over, he loved to “excavate for treasure” in my bedroom. My drawings, the ones that took me days to finish, the special paints my mom had saved for months to buy me—he’d smear them all together into a muddy, useless mess, getting streaks of color all over his face. My grandmother would come in, chuckling, and wipe his cheeks. “Oh, you little rascal. Such a troublemaker.” She’d hug him tight. “You can’t do that again, you hear?” It was a scolding with no teeth. It meant nothing. Just like now. Caleb was telling Sloane to stop, but the intimacy in his voice only empowered her, made her feel more secure. She made a face at him, then looked away with a dismissive little huff. Rhys stepped in to play peacemaker. “Alright, alright, it’s getting late. Caleb, let’s not keep the lady from her job.” That was it. I tore off the blue courier jacket and threw it at him. It hit him square in the chest. “Since you’re obviously not dead in a ditch somewhere, I guess I don’t need this job anymore.” Caleb froze, his whole body rigid. The color drained from his face, replaced by a glacial fury. I’m sure in his entire privileged life, no one had ever done something like that to him. The city lights flickered on, casting long shadows down the street. I got on my scooter and drove away. Through the visor of my helmet, the world blurred. I suddenly remembered the first time I met him. He was standing under a giant oak tree on campus, wearing a simple white shirt, the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves and dusting him in gold. His hazel eyes were full of light. “You a freshman?” he’d asked. He was a junior, working the student orientation table. “You should join the activities committee.” So I did. Just to be in his orbit. It gave me an excuse to have his number. The first time I ever texted him, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely type. What do you even say? I’d spent the entire day rehearsing, from the moment I woke up until the dorm lights went out. Finally, I sent three pathetic little words. Hey, it’s Leah. He must have been holding his phone. The reply came back instantly. You’re up late. But now, when I opened our message thread, it was just a monologue. My monologue. Long, desperate green bubbles of text, unanswered. A digital monument to my own stupidity. How could a person like me ever think someone like him could truly love me? It was all a lie. A calculated, cruel lie, right from the very beginning. 5 Caleb and I got together the night he graduated. He was drunk, stumbling out of a bar near campus. I worked up every ounce of courage I had and followed him. He was so out of it he could barely see straight. He grabbed my wrist, pinning me against a brick wall. “You want to do this?” he slurred, his eyes hazy, half-closed, a dangerous charm radiating off him even then. Like a fool, I said yes. And to my shock, he didn’t take it back the next day. He remembered. He stayed. So I worked harder than ever. I took on extra shifts, sold my paintings on the side—anything to feel like I wasn’t completely out of my league. My income was a joke compared to his, but it was something. It was mine. But Caleb’s world was different. A single shirt he owned was worth more than my annual salary. He’d just ruffle my hair and say, “You’re doing great, Leah.” And that one sentence would be enough to keep me going for weeks. It didn’t last long. A few months into our relationship, his family’s company went bankrupt. His parents, he said, had fled the country to escape their debts. The moment I heard the news, I rushed to find him. He was sitting on the front steps of his family’s empty, foreclosed mansion with nothing but the clothes on his back. He just looked up at me, his shadow stretching long and lonely under the streetlights. “Go home, Leah,” he said, his voice hollow. “I have nothing left to give you.” I was crying, but I was also smiling. For the first time, I sat down next to him without being invited. I took his arm in mine. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’ve got you now.” He flinched, then turned, and his mouth was on mine. A desperate, all-consuming kiss. It was the closest we’d ever been. 6 Back in our—my—tiny rental apartment, the ghost of him was everywhere. The ceramic bowls we’d painted together at a pottery class. The coasters we’d tried to knit one drunken Tuesday night. The matching pair of slippers by the door. I started packing it all into trash bags. One thing at a time. It was only then, as I purged our life from the apartment, that I realized we didn’t have a single photograph together. Not one. A cold thought began to form in my mind. He knew it was a game from the start. That’s why he never wanted any evidence that we were real. I opened his Instagram. Nothing. Not a single post, not a single story that ever included me. We had never even made it official. We just… were. And now we… weren’t. I clipped my bangs back from my face and splashed my face with cold water. The water made the thin, white scar on my forehead stand out in sharp relief. Closing my eyes, I was back in the moment. The screech of tires. He’d run across the street to grab a cake for my birthday. A car came out of nowhere, speeding. I didn’t think; I just moved, shoving him out of the way. I took the hit instead. The bruises faded, the bones healed, but this scar, this one mark on my forehead, never quite went away. So stupid. For the first time in years, I took out my concealer. It felt like I was trying to spackle over the hole in my chest. A pathetic act of self-deception. My hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold the brush. A car horn blared outside, making me jump. The brush slipped from my fingers and clattered into the wet sink. You’re pathetic, Leah. All the disappointment, the anxiety, the desperate hope I’d been holding onto for three months—it all came crashing down. I didn’t even know what I was crying for anymore. For my shaking hands? For a love affair that no one else in the world even knew existed? I slid down the cool tile wall until I was curled up in a ball on the floor. I don’t know how long I stayed there. Hours, maybe. Long enough for the dark square of the window to melt completely into the night sky. Finally, I moved my dry, cracked lips. “Caleb Hayes,” I whispered to the empty room. “I’m done with you.” From this day forward, we were over. For good. 7 Truthfully, Caleb didn’t have much stuff at my place. It only took two hours to clear out every trace of him. I called the old man who collects junk in our neighborhood and gave him everything. Suddenly, the apartment felt clean. Bigger. There was nothing in pairs anymore. It was calming. I started making a list of things to do, plans for finding a new job tomorrow. Then my phone buzzed. A new message. It was a photo. Caleb, his eyes half-lidded, lounging in the arms of Sloane. They were in some impossibly glamorous VIP lounge, the background a blur of champagne bottles and neon lights. The moody lighting cast shadows on his face, giving him a debauched, rakish look I’d never seen before. Sloane hadn’t written a single word. She didn’t have to. The message was loud and clear: This man belongs to me. After the emotional dam had broken earlier, I just felt… numb. I deleted the photo and, with a steady hand, went to the kitchen to make myself a bowl of instant noodles. Crying over him once was enough. Crying over a man more than that was just plain stupid. The noodles were barely cooked when my phone rang. An unknown number. “Hey, broke girl. No, wait. Leah.” It was Rhys’s booming, obnoxious voice. “Caleb’s wasted. He’s refusing to leave the bar until you come pick him up. Get over here.” I slurped a mouthful of noodles. “Caleb who? Don’t know him.” “What are you talking about? Just hurry up. They’re about to close, and he’s going to end up sleeping on the damn sidewalk.” “Then let him,” I said, finishing the noodles in three more bites. “Even better if he’s dead.” Rhys started to argue, but I just hung up. A waste of my phone plan. I switched my phone off completely and went to bed. For the first time in months, I slept soundly. When I woke up, sunlight was streaming through the window, pooling on the floor. I realized that as long as I wasn’t waiting for Caleb, I could actually rest. It was the first day of my life without him, and even the bed felt bigger, more spacious. I was about to get up when a head poked out of my bathroom.

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The new assistant, Ava’s latest hire, dumped a full cup of coffee onto my face in front of the entire executive board. “You’re a parasite who does nothing but hide in his office playing video games, and you have the nerve to question my proposal?” His voice echoed in the silent boardroom. “I’m telling you you’re fired. Get out!” Calmly, I rose to my feet. I wiped the sticky, lukewarm liquid from my skin and looked at Ava. She frowned, her gaze deliberately darting away from mine. She chose silence. A slow smile spread across my face. I pulled out my phone. “Dad, you listening?” I asked, the speakerphone on. “They’re telling me to get out.” 1 It was a Monday. I was deep in the final push of a strategic campaign on my laptop when a sharp knock broke my concentration. “Mr. Sterling? Carter Hayes needs all department heads in the main conference room in ten minutes.” It was Chloe from Admin, her voice rushed. I didn’t look up, my fingers a blur across the keyboard. “Not going. Busy.” In the six months I’d been embedded in this company, I hadn’t attended a single meeting. It wasn’t that I was exempt; I simply couldn’t be bothered. “But…” Chloe hesitated, her voice dropping. “Carter was very specific. He said no one gets to miss this one. He said it was an order from Ms. Monroe.” My fingers froze. My character, a meticulously crafted warrior, was instantly annihilated by the level boss. As the screen faded to a dismal gray, I swore under my breath and shut the laptop. By the time I arrived, the conference room was already full. As I entered, a ripple of strange looks and whispered conversations followed me. “What’s Liam Sterling doing here?” “I thought he didn’t do meetings.” “Who knows. Must be Carter’s doing. He specifically requested him.” “Carter’s been looking for a reason to pick a fight with him. This should be good.” I ignored the murmurs and chose a seat in the farthest corner, pulling out my phone to resume the game I’d been forced to abandon. A full thirty minutes passed before Ava Monroe and Carter Hayes finally made their grand entrance. Carter clutched a stack of files, a smug, triumphant smile plastered on his face. “Thank you all for making the time on such short notice,” Ava began, her eyes scanning the room. They rested on me for less than a second before moving on. “Carter has a major proposal he’d like to present to you all today.” Carter cleared his throat and launched into a long-winded speech about his “revolutionary” new marketing strategy. I split my attention, one thumb navigating my game while my ears picked up the broad strokes. The more I heard, the more absurd it sounded. The budget was astronomical, and the entire concept was fundamentally misaligned with our company’s market position. “…and so, I propose an immediate eighty-million-dollar investment to dominate the high-end market sector within the next three months!” Carter concluded, his voice ringing with passion. A sparse, hesitant applause fluttered through the room. I couldn’t help myself. Without looking up from my phone, I said, “For eighty million, you could just throw cash off the roof of the building. You’d get more buzz and better engagement.” The room went dead silent. Ava’s brow furrowed. “What did you say?” Carter’s voice was suddenly sharp. I finally lifted my head, my expression one of pure boredom. “I said your proposal is full of holes.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “First, your target demographic is completely wrong. Second, your channel allocation is a mess. And third, your entire method for calculating ROI is a fantasy.” I leaned back in my chair. “You might as well be setting eighty million dollars on fire. At least that would make a nice glow.” Carter’s face flushed a deep, blotchy red. He snatched his coffee cup from the table and stormed towards me. “You’re a parasite who does nothing but hide in his office playing video games, and you have the nerve to question my proposal?” he roared. And then— Splash. The hot liquid cascaded down my face. It soaked the collar of my white shirt, staining it a muddy brown. The entire room held its breath. “Liam Sterling, I’m announcing you’re fired. Get out!” 2 Carter stood over me, chest puffed out like a conquering hero. I rose slowly, pulling a linen handkerchief from my pocket and methodically dabbing the coffee from my face. Then I turned my gaze to Ava. She frowned, looked away, and said nothing. A genuine laugh escaped me then. A real one. I held up my phone, where the call was still active on speaker. “Dad, you listening?” “They’re telling me to get out.” The line was silent for two beats before a deep, resonant voice replied. “Understood. I’ll make the arrangements.” The only reason I was in this office, in this city, was because of a pact made by my grandfather decades ago. An engagement. Ava Monroe was my fiancée. I despised the idea of an arranged marriage, a dynastic merger, but my father had been relentless, wielding the weight of family duty and legacy like a club. So I’d agreed. To “foster a deeper connection,” my father had insisted I take a position at Monroe Industries. For six months, I’d played the part of a do-nothing manager, a ghost in the corporate machine. In reality, I had been quietly leveraging Sterling resources, making calls, greasing wheels, and single-handedly ensuring the company’s performance soared, paving the way for a successful IPO. Monroe Industries became a market darling, and Ava Monroe’s name appeared on the Forbes list of rising entrepreneurs. I’d done all that, but we barely spoke. During our handful of stilted, obligatory dates, it became clear she knew I was the man from the family arrangement, but she had no idea of the true scale of the Sterling family name. … I sat back down in my corner chair, picked up my phone, and unpaused my game. On the screen, my character respawned. My fingers flew across the glass, the tension in the room melting into the background. Carter’s face went from red to a sickly shade of purple. He clearly hadn’t expected me to so thoroughly ignore his display of authority. He slammed his hand on the table. “Liam! What do you think this is? Everyone is focused on a critical meeting, and you’re playing games?” A cold smile touched my lips. “I’ve already hit my targets for the entire fiscal year. What’s a little game?” “If you don’t get out right now, I’m calling security!” “Be my guest,” I replied without looking up. The other executives exchanged uneasy glances. Some pretended to study their documents; others shot furtive looks at Ava, waiting for her to act. Finally, she stood. Today she was wearing a sharp, tailored black dress, her hair pulled back in a severe knot. She looked at me, her expression a mixture of impatience and disdain. “Liam, your performance metrics are excellent,” she said. Her voice was level, but it carried an undeniable authority. “But this is a place of business, not your trust fund playground. Please leave the conference room. You’re disrupting the meeting.” My fingers paused. My character died again. I looked up and met her gaze, a playful smirk on my lips. “Are you sure you want me to leave, Ms. Monroe?” Ava’s frown deepened, her voice turning to ice. “I won’t repeat myself. If you have any professional decency, you know when to walk away.” “And if I don’t want to walk away?” “Then don’t blame me for what happens next.” Seeing Ava firmly on his side, Carter’s courage surged. He lunged at me and slapped the phone out of my hand. It hit the polished floor with a sickening crack, the screen exploding into a spiderweb of fractures. “Don’t push your luck, Sterling!” he snarled, grabbing the front of my shirt and hauling me upwards. “Ava gave you an order! What are you still doing here? Get out!” From his very first day as Ava’s assistant, Carter had made his dislike for me clear. I once overheard him through Ava’s office door, his voice dripping with condescension. “Ms. Monroe, this isn’t a charity. Paying a six-figure salary to a guy who just plays games all day is a slap in the face to everyone who actually works here.” Ava hadn’t replied, but through the glass, I saw her hands pause over a document. After that, Carter grew bolder. He’d make veiled comments in department meetings about my “impressive contributions.” “Some people,” he’d say with a theatrical sigh, “collect a hefty paycheck but can’t even be bothered to show up for a meeting. Must be nice to be on a permanent vacation.” The whispers around the office grew louder. I was a nepo-baby, a rich kid slumming it. I slept in my office. They started a betting pool on when I’d finally be fired. I knew about all of it. I just didn’t care. 3 But the more I ignored him, the more entitled he became. This was his moment, and he was reveling in it. I don’t tolerate bullies. I clamped my hand around his wrist and twisted. Hard. “Ah!” Carter cried out, his grip on my shirt releasing instantly. As he stumbled back, his arm slammed against the edge of the heavy oak conference table. There was a sharp crack as his watch face met the wood. He staggered, then looked down at his wrist. The color drained from his face. A deep, ugly scratch now marred the crystal of his expensive Patek Philippe, glaring under the recessed lighting. “You… you…” he stammered, his hand trembling as he held it up. His eyes were blazing. “Liam, do you have any idea how much this watch costs? This was a birthday gift from Ava! It’s worth eighty thousand dollars!” I slowly straightened the collar of my wrinkled shirt. “You lost your footing. Not my problem.” “Liam!” Ava’s voice was a whip crack. “That’s enough! You disrupted a meeting, and now you’ve deliberately destroyed personal property. On behalf of the company, I am officially terminating your employment. Now, gather your things and leave.” Carter, seeing his advantage, pressed on. “Ava, don’t just let him walk away! He has to pay for the watch!” The room was silent. Every eye was on me, a mix of pity and morbid curiosity. They were waiting for the show. “Fine. I’ll pay,” I said. “Eighty thousand, was it?” I bent down to retrieve my shattered phone. The screen was a disaster, but it still lit up. As I dialed a number, Carter sneered. “What eighty thousand? It’s eight hundred thousand!” I paused, looking at him. “Are you sure about that?” “Of course, I’m sure!” Carter puffed out his chest. “A gift from Ava is priceless! Eight hundred thousand is a bargain, and I’m being generous! Ask anyone here if I’m wrong!” He knew my official salary. He knew I couldn’t afford that. This was about humiliation. The other executives, sensing the shift in power, chimed in. “He’s right. A gift from Ms. Monroe can’t be measured in money,” the CFO said, adjusting his glasses. “You should just pay it, Liam.” “This isn’t a non-profit, Sterling. You break it, you buy it,” the head of marketing added with a smirk. “Though at your salary, you’ll probably be paying it off until you retire.” A wave of cruel laughter rippled through the room. They had despised the “slacker” in their midst for months, and now they were enjoying my downfall. Ava stood by, her brow furrowed, but she did nothing to stop them. Their taunts didn’t bother me. I looked straight at Carter. “Eight hundred thousand. That’s the final number? No more additions?” He blinked, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Still playing the big shot, Liam? We all know what your paycheck looks like. How are you going to pay? With your life?” I ignored him and put the phone to my ear. “I need eight hundred thousand in cash delivered to the Monroe Industries boardroom. As soon as possible.” Carter scoffed. “Right. Who are you trying to fool with that little performance?” I didn’t answer. I just waited. Less than ten minutes later, the conference room doors swung open. A man in a flawlessly tailored suit walked in, followed by three uniformed bank couriers carrying heavy briefcases. He walked directly to me and bowed respectfully. “Mr. Sterling. Here is the eight hundred thousand you requested.” I nodded. “Thank you for your promptness. You can set them down there.” The cases were opened one by one, revealing stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills that seemed to glow under the lights. The room fell into a stunned silence. You could have heard a pin drop. Carter looked like he’d been punched in the gut. He stared at the money, then at the man in the suit. Suddenly, the CFO’s face went white. “Mr.… Mr. Davies?!”

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Countless iterations of the word “slut” had been gouged into the obsidian black paint of my brand-new car. I was in the owner’s lounge at the dealership, the security footage cued up on a tablet, when I saw her. Chloe. My fiancée. Who was supposed to be two states over visiting her sister. Standing right next to her, looking painfully awkward, was Evan, her childhood best friend. “Leo, it’s just a car. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of this?” She tossed a service estimate onto the glass table in front of me. “Just sign it. Insurance will handle everything. Let’s not be late for our movie.” My eyes were glued to the tablet. To the pixelated image of Evan, key in hand, grinning as he carved a deep gash across the Porsche emblem on the hood. I felt a slow, cold smile spread across my own face. “You want me to just let this go?” “Yes,” they both said, their faces masks of entitled impatience. “Alright,” I said, picking up my keys from the table and tossing them so they landed with a soft clack in front of Evan. “Buy me a new one.” I leaned back, meeting their stunned expressions. “And we’ll pretend this never happened.” 1 The color drained from Chloe’s face. “Leo, what the hell are you talking about?” Evan, the man who’d been laughing like a hyena in the video, now adopted the look of a kicked puppy. “Leo, man, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight, I’d had a few drinks. My hand just… slipped.” I picked up my phone, found the video file, and turned the volume all the way up. His voice, tinny but clear, filled the quiet lounge. “Watch this, Chloe. I’m gonna leave him a little souvenir.” The shriek of metal on metal that followed was excruciatingly loud. Every other customer in the room turned to stare. Chloe’s face cycled through shades of red, white, and a sickly green. She lunged for my phone, trying to wrestle it from my grasp. I was faster. I locked the screen and pulled it away. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Are you trying to humiliate us?” she hissed, her voice a furious whisper. “Humiliate you?” I stared at her, genuinely baffled. “He’s the one who did something disgusting. How does that turn into me humiliating you?” Evan tugged on Chloe’s sleeve, putting on a show of remorse for our audience. “Leo, I’ll pay for the repairs. Double, whatever they cost. Okay?” “I said, a new car.” My voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. “Don’t push it, Leo!” Chloe finally snapped. “It’s a car that costs, what, a few dozen grand? You’re going to throw away our entire relationship for that?” “A few dozen grand?” A laugh escaped my lips, but there was no humor in it. “Chloe, this car, with all the options, was two hundred and eighty thousand dollars. And that’s what it is in your mind? A rounding error?” “More importantly,” I said, my voice dropping, “this isn’t about the money.” I pointed a finger at Evan. “It’s about him. Maliciously destroying something of mine, right in front of you. And you? You didn’t just hide it. You were going to let me walk in here like an idiot and sign that paper, none the wiser.” “I…” Chloe faltered, her mouth opening and closing with no sound. Evan, seeing his damsel in distress, stepped forward to play the knight. “Chloe, don’t get upset. It’s all my fault.” He turned to me, his eyes glinting with a challenge. “Leo, this is between us men. Don’t drag Chloe into it. Just tell me what you want.” The way he framed it, he was her noble protector, and I was the unreasonable villain. A chihuahua trying to pass for a Doberman. “It’s simple.” I scooped my keys off the table and dropped them back into my pocket. “A brand-new, identical car. Delivered today. If you can’t manage that, then we have nothing left to talk about.” I turned and walked away. Chloe’s shriek followed me. “Leo! Don’t you walk away from me! If you walk out that door, we are over!” I didn’t even break stride. 2 Back home, the first thing I did was back up the video. I made a dozen copies, uploading them to every cloud drive and encrypted email account I owned. The moment I finished, my mom called. “Leo, what’s this I hear about you and Chloe fighting? Honey, you’re the man, you have to be the bigger person sometimes.” Before I could even answer, the phone was passed to someone else. It was Chloe’s mother. “Leo, dear, it’s Diane. I heard what happened, and I am so sorry for what Evan did. I apologize on his behalf.” Her voice was syrupy sweet. “But you know Evan. He and Chloe grew up together, they’re like brother and sister. He was just fooling around, playing a prank on her. Scratching your car… it’s not that serious.” “Chloe told me we’ll cover the repair costs, of course. Please don’t hold this against her. We can’t let this affect the wedding.” I clutched the phone, a chill spreading through my chest as I listened to her spin a web of nonsense. A prank? Maliciously vandalizing a piece of property worth nearly three hundred thousand dollars was a prank? “Diane, I’ve seen the security footage. Your daughter, Chloe, knows perfectly well whether or not he was joking.” The other end of the line went silent. When she spoke again, her tone had hardened. “Leo, what is that supposed to mean? Do you think our Chloe isn’t good enough for you? You’re going to call off the wedding over a stupid car? Do you have any idea what we’ve invested in the down payment for your house…?” I hung up. Listening to another word felt like drinking poison. Five minutes later, my doorbell rang. It was Chloe, with Evan in tow. She must have assumed I’d have cooled down, because she entered with a face full of carefully crafted, tear-stained regret. “Leo, I’m so sorry. I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have hidden it from you.” “Please don’t be mad at me. My mom already yelled at me.” Evan trailed behind her, holding a sad-looking fruit basket, a pathetic grin plastered on his face. “Hey, man. Look, I came all the way here to apologize in person. Can you just… let it go? Forgive and forget?” He set the basket on my coffee table with the air of someone bestowing a great honor. I remained on the couch, not moving, my gaze fixed on the wall behind them. “Where’s the new car?” Chloe’s performance faltered. Evan’s smile froze. “Leo, do you have to be like this?” Chloe’s patience evaporated, the tears vanishing as if on command. “I already said I’m sorry. What more do you want?” “I want a new car. Or a check for two hundred and eighty thousand dollars.” I finally looked at her. “Am I not speaking clearly?” “You’re insane!” she shrieked. “Where are we supposed to get that kind of money?” “That sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” I stood up. “If you don’t have the money, then get out of my house. The door is right there.” Evan’s face turned a blotchy red. He took a step toward me, puffing out his chest. “Don’t be an asshole, Leo.” My eyes were ice. “You want to do this? Fine. But I should warn you. If you lay a single finger on me today, this will be about a lot more than just a car.” He stared into my eyes, searching for a bluff he couldn’t find. He backed down. Seeing that aggression had failed, Chloe switched back to her soft approach. She grabbed my arm. “Leo, baby, we’re about to get married. We’re family. If you make Evan pay that much, how will he ever recover? How can we all stay friends?” “Family?” I yanked my arm away. “Does family conspire with an outsider to lie to me? To cheat me?” “And as for friends,” I shot a contemptuous look at Evan, “I have no interest in being friends with a petty criminal who destroys other people’s property.” My words hit their mark. Evan’s face flushed a deep crimson. “Watch your mouth, Leo!” “Or what?” I laughed. “Let’s talk about consequences. You have three days. In three days, I either see an identical new car in my parking spot, or I see two hundred and eighty thousand dollars in my bank account.” “If I don’t, I’m sending that video to everyone. Our entire families, all our mutual friends. I’ll even send it to the alumni networks for both of our colleges.” “Let’s let everyone see what a loyal ‘big sister’ you are, Chloe. And what a righteous ‘little brother’ you are, Evan.” The color drained from both of their faces. They were utterly, devastatingly pale. 3 They’d met in college. The alumni network was vast and active, including dozens of current colleagues and even a few of their senior managers. If that video got out, they’d be socially and professionally crucified. That was their real weakness. “You… you’re despicable,” Chloe stammered, her body trembling with rage. “Not as despicable as you two.” I gestured toward the door. “Three days. The clock starts now.” They left, practically tripping over each other in their haste. The silence that followed was a relief. I thought they would finally grasp the severity of the situation and figure out the money. But I had, once again, underestimated their capacity for stupidity. The next day, I got a call from our wedding planning agency. “Mr. Hayes? This is Jessica. I’m just calling to confirm, Ms. Vance came in this morning and cancelled the wedding. She said it was a mutual decision, so we will be retaining the deposit as per the contract.” I stood there, momentarily stunned. “She also,” Jessica continued, her voice hesitant, “transferred the venue booking to a friend of hers? For a birthday party, she said.” And just like that, I understood everything. Chloe was calling my bluff. She was using the wedding as leverage, betting that the shame of being left at the altar would force me to back down. And the final insult? She’d already promised our wedding venue to Evan for his birthday. My wonderful, loving fiancée. I suppressed the inferno in my chest and kept my voice calm. “What was her friend’s name?” “An Evan… I think the last name was Croft.” Of course it was. “Okay. Thank you for letting me know.” I hung up and sent Chloe a single text. Wedding’s off? Her reply was instantaneous, laced with smug triumph. Yup. Since you obviously care more about a car than you do about me, there’s no point in getting married. Another message followed immediately. I gave the venue to Evan for his party. He’s inviting all our friends. Hope that’s okay with you. The provocation was blatant. She was gambling that my pride, my fear of public humiliation, was my weakness. I smiled. Not at all. Tell him happy birthday for me. After sending the text, I blocked her number. Blocked her on every social platform. Then, I packaged the security footage, a screenshot of our text exchange, and the confirmation from the wedding planner into a single folder. I sent it to a friend of mine who runs a popular local gossip blog. I even gave him the perfect headline. Bride-to-Be Bails on Six-Figure Wedding, Gifts Venue to ‘Childhood Best Friend’ for Birthday Bash! My friend, who lives for this kind of drama, replied almost instantly. He promised to handle it with the care and attention it deserved. As I put my phone down, a strange lightness settled over me. You want to play games, Chloe? Fine. Let’s play. 4 The story exploded faster than I could have imagined. In less than twelve hours, the article had over a hundred thousand views. We weren’t named, but the details—the venue, the make of the car, the “childhood best friend” trope—were more than enough for anyone who knew us to connect the dots. The comments section was a war zone. “Is this woman for real? Ditches her fiancé for her ‘guy best friend’?” “LOL, this isn’t a ‘best friend,’ this is the side piece getting a promotion.” “Can someone get me the fiancé’s number? A good man like that deserves better!” My phone blew up. Texts from friends wanting confirmation. DMs from old classmates wanting the gossip. A few carefully worded messages from mutual friends, gently suggesting I should be more “magnanimous.” I ignored them all. Chloe, finding her number blocked, started calling from her parents’ phones. I finally answered one. It was her father. His voice was tight with barely controlled fury. “Leo! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to drag my family’s name through the mud?” “Mr. Vance, from the very beginning, all I wanted was to resolve the issue,” I said calmly. “But what did you all do? You covered for them, you lied, and you threatened me. Now that it’s public, you’re blaming me?” “You…” He was sputtering, choking on his own anger. “If you want this to go away, it’s very simple,” I repeated my terms. “The car or the money. Once I have it, I’ll have my friend take the post down.” “In your dreams! Leo, I’m telling you, we are not a family to be messed with! You keep this up, and you’ll regret it!” He slammed the phone down. I waited to see what his “regret” would look like. Thirty minutes later, my boss called me into his office. “Leo, is everything alright at home?” he asked, his face a mask of paternal concern. A knot formed in my stomach. “Everything’s fine, sir.” “Well,” he shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair. “I just got a call from Richard Vance. Over at Vance Industries. He mentioned… some unpleasantness in your personal life. Said it was creating a bad image.” Vance Industries. Chloe’s father’s company. And one of our firm’s most important clients. I saw it all with perfect clarity. They were threatening my job. “Sir, it’s a private matter. It has no bearing on my work.” “I understand that,” he sighed, “but Richard… well, you know how important his account is. I’m just thinking, maybe you should reach out, have a conversation, clear up this misunderstanding?” He leaned forward, his meaning unmistakable. “Because if your personal issues start affecting the company’s business… my hands will be tied.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a threat. Compromise, or you’re fired. I walked out of his office, my face a blank slate. My colleagues watched me with a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. I ignored them. Back at my desk, I opened my laptop and logged into an old, rarely used email account. There were only a few unread messages. I clicked on one from a few years back. The sender was a senior V.P. at Vance Industries, a mentor from my college alumni network. The email contained a single attachment: a detailed report on three years of Vance Industries’ internal financial discrepancies. A second file detailed a slush fund they used for “client incentives.” Bribes, in plain English. My mentor had prepared it as leverage before leaving for a better job. He’d since landed safely, and the file had remained with me, forgotten. I never thought I’d have a reason to use it. I never imagined Richard Vance would personally hand me the knife. I bundled the files, encrypted them, and sent them from an anonymous address to the tip line of the IRS criminal investigation division. Then, I called Chloe’s father. He must have thought I was calling to surrender, because his voice was dripping with arrogance. “Have you come to your senses?” “I have,” I said, a small, cold smile on my face. “Mr. Vance, I’m just calling to give you a friendly tip. You might want to get your accountants to work overtime. Make sure all your books are in order.” “What are you talking about?” “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how unfortunate it would be if a company as prominent as yours were to be investigated for, say, a few million in tax evasion. It would look terrible, don’t you think?”

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The moment I won her over—the moment I finally conquered the heart of that dark, damaged girl—I chose to leave the world for good. I didn’t hesitate for a second, not even when she begged me, her voice small and broken, to stay. Life back in the real world was… not good. I was drowning. So when the System found me again, offering five million dollars to go back into the book and win her over one more time, I was ready to say yes. But just as the word formed on my lips, a shimmering text feed flickered across my vision, like a phantom television crawl. > OMG, the Ex is back. > LMAO, does she seriously think the heroine is still in love with her? > The second Strategist not only got the heroine’s darkness rating down to negative one hundred, he voluntarily stayed. Gave her a real home. > The happy couple is about to get married. Can the Ex please have some shame and not bother them? 1 It took me a long moment to process it. The Ex they were talking about… was me. Beside me, the System was still buzzing, giving me the hard sell. “All you have to do is make Aria Sterling fall in love with you one more time, and you get five million dollars. Even if you fail, you get fifty thousand for your trouble. How about it? It’s a great deal.” It was a great deal. And right now, I desperately needed the money. But the words from the feed echoed in my head. I was silent for a moment, then told the System I needed to think about it. So, it sent me back into the book first. To be precise, it sent me back to the home Aria and I once shared. The small, sub-one-thousand-square-foot apartment was old but cozy, exactly as it had been three years ago. Aria hadn’t moved a single one of my things. Even the silk blouse I’d accidentally stained just before I left… it was hanging in the closet, perfectly clean. I remembered that blouse. It was from Theory, a brand that was everywhere at the time. When Aria had secretly bought it for me, I’d gotten angry about the price, insisting we return it. She never argued. She would just lower her gaze, those long lashes of hers casting shadows on her cheeks, and wait for my anger to cool. Then, in a soft voice, she’d coax me into trying it on. I ran the smooth fabric between my fingers. Took a deep breath. If Aria had truly forgotten me… Then why was this apartment still here, preserved like a museum? I looked up again, my eyes scanning the small space. They snagged on a white piece of paper taped to the inside of the window. Through the glass, I could make out a few large, hastily scrawled words. FOR SALE. PRICE NEGOTIABLE. URGENT. The strokes were sharp, decisive. It was Aria’s handwriting. 2 The text feed materialized in front of me again, a cascade of tiny, mocking words. > Hahaha, the Ex is stunned. The heroine wasn’t holding on to their past; she just hadn’t gotten around to selling the place yet. > The Ex really thought the heroine still loved her like before. Plot twist: with her new golden retriever boyfriend, the heroine won’t even give her a second glance. > The only reason the System brought her back is to create some drama for the main couple. The Ex is just here to humiliate herself. I pressed my lips together. So that was it. The System was offering five million because it was certain I would fail. My real purpose wasn’t to win Aria back; it was to be the villain, the obstacle thrown in the path of the main characters’ love story. It was buying my labor—my humiliation—for a measly fifty thousand. Fifty grand. A bitter laugh escaped me. To play the fool for fifty thousand dollars… it wasn’t nothing. It was one week of ICU bills for— I called out to the System and briskly accepted the deal. The System, practically beaming, deposited a large sum of money into my account for expenses—usable only within the book, of course. Since Aria was so eager to sell this place, I might as well be the one to buy it. I held my phone, my fingers dialing a number that was still etched into my memory. It rang for a full thirty seconds before someone picked up. A bright, boyish voice came through the line. “Hello?” I froze for a second. Glancing down, I confirmed it was Aria’s number. “Hi, I was passing by and saw the for-sale sign in the window…” “You want to buy the apartment?” the voice on the other end exclaimed with surprise. “That’s great! It’s about time someone took it.” I asked, cautiously, “Are you the owner?” “I’m the owner’s boyfriend. You can call me Leo.” So this was him. The second Strategist. As I hesitated, a brief muffle of noise came from the other end, like two people whispering. A long moment passed. Then, someone else took the phone. Aria’s cool, detached voice came through the line, crystal clear. “Hello. Is it convenient to meet and discuss this in person?” 3 I waited in the coffee shop, a low thrum of unease vibrating through me. Finally, a sleek, understated luxury car—an Audi—purred to the curb. The doors opened, and a striking couple emerged. Three years. I hadn’t seen her in three years, and Aria Sterling was still as breathtaking as ever. The last traces of youthful uncertainty in her features had been replaced by the quiet confidence that only power and wealth can bestow. She leaned languidly against the car door. Leo said something, and a smile touched her lips as she reached out to ruffle his hair. From across the distance, her gaze drifted in my direction. It rested on me for only a fraction of a second before moving on, as undisturbed as the surface of a still, deep well. I was still lost in a daze when Leo sat down across from me. He gave me an apologetic smile. “My girlfriend had a meeting, so she could only drop me off. I’ll be handling the sale.” “I can see you two are very happy together,” I said, and I meant it. Leo’s smile widened. “My girlfriend runs a tech company. Her net profits are in the hundreds of millions a year. We don’t need the money from this apartment; we mainly just don’t want to hold onto it anymore.” His tone carried a faint, sweet note of superiority. I nodded and, following the usual procedure, asked if I could see the apartment. Leo paused, a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes. “The keys… I don’t have them. If you want to see it, my girlfriend would have to take you herself.” I frowned slightly, confused. “She didn’t give you the keys before you came?” Logically, any real estate transaction involves a viewing. Aria would know that. Leo sighed, a wry smile on his face. “I asked, but she wouldn’t give them to me. She’s never taken me there, either.” He lowered his voice. “To be honest with you, it’s the place she lived with her ex when she was starting from nothing. It gives me the creeps. That’s why I wanted to sell it quickly.” “Ah,” I said. “In that case, I don’t need to see it. Let’s just sign the contract.” Leo looked ecstatic. Fearing I might change my mind, he immediately pulled out the sales agreement. He didn’t have the property deed, however, so we couldn’t transfer the title just yet. We would still have to wait for Aria. As we sat there, an awkward silence stretched between us. Looking at this man, another Strategist just like me, I couldn’t help my curiosity. “How did you and she get together?” What I really wanted to know was how he had succeeded with her. The System had told me that after I left, Aria had a brief, secondary spiral into darkness. She’d tried to kill herself, her darkness rating soaring to a level that threatened the stability of the entire world. Leo arrived at her side during that time. He not only brought her darkness rating down but completely replaced me in her heart. Aria was not an easy person to win over. He must have gone through hell. But Leo just beamed. “She had just been abandoned by her ex and was completely heartbroken. I was there for her, comforting her. It didn’t take long for us to make things official.” It was that simple? I could hardly believe it. The mocking text feed flooded my vision again. > LMAO, the Ex is shook. The heroine just has no resistance to sweet, puppy-dog types like our boy. > Remember, it took the Ex ten whole years to win her over. She threw herself at the heroine countless times before she reluctantly agreed to be with her. > The puppy just said a few words to her, and all the Ex’s years of work went down the drain. That’s the power of true love, baby. … I stared blankly at the cynical comments. They weren’t wrong. The process of winning Aria over had been agonizingly difficult. So difficult that I never wanted to go through it again. 4 Aria’s parents didn’t love her. At a young age, they had her committed to a psychiatric hospital, leaving her to the mercy of abusive orderlies. The place was a prison, filled with violent and unstable patients, heavily guarded. Even with the System’s help, I nearly died getting her out. I took Aria to a new city. I put her through school, got her on the right path. I even arranged for expensive weekly therapy sessions. I did all of this to earn her complete trust. But Aria was too intelligent. She effortlessly saw through the façade of this world, including my identity and my mission. After her final exams, Aria became the top scorer in the state. I threw a party to celebrate. But she just calmly took my arm, her expression cold, tinged with a self-mockery I could barely detect. “You’re doing all this for me because you’re trying to win me over, right?” After the initial shock, I let out a shaky sigh and said, my voice thick with emotion, “I love you. That’s my purpose.” She scoffed, clearly not believing me. My heart pounded, but I pulled her into a hug, deliberately acting playful. “Aria, don’t get hung up on the details. These last few years have been exhausting. You’d better hurry up and make my life easier.” I buried my face in her shoulder. “I really, really love you. Please don’t question me like this again. It really hurts.” … After college, Aria started her own company. We moved into that tiny, rundown apartment. There was no heating in the winter. Sometimes, when I washed the dishes, my hands would go numb and ache from the cold. Aria would always take my hands and rub them, her eyes red with unspoken sympathy. By then, we were married. Her life’s goal had shifted from building a tech empire to destroy the world to the mundane task of making enough money to buy her wife a house. We hustled during the day and held each other in that small bed at night. I remembered the time I was trying to secure funding and the investor harassed me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her, so I just walked the streets alone, crying. I remembered the time a competitor tried to sabotage us, and I instinctively shielded her, taking the blow myself and ending up in the ER. I don’t know how many times I went through things like that. All of it, just to slowly, painstakingly, make Aria Sterling fall in love with me. And compared to my decade-long effort, Leo had done it in just three short weeks. He’d brought her darkness rating down to negative one hundred and raised her affection level to one hundred percent. 5 Leo was still rambling on about the sweet details of his relationship with Aria. He said it was love at first sight for her. I pushed down the faint ache in my chest and took a sip of my milkshake. “Has she… ever mentioned her ex-wife to you?” Leo thought for a moment, then smiled smugly. “Never. I think she’s completely over her.” I nodded. It was better that way. I didn’t actually want to ruin their relationship. When Aria arrived, I’d just put on a show of remorse, act pathetically desperate. Given her personality, she would probably be disgusted and want nothing to do with me. Once she rejected me, I’d take my fifty thousand and leave this world for good. As I was mapping out my plan, Leo’s phone rang. His face lit up. “My girlfriend’s meeting is over. She’s coming to pick me up now. We have a date, so let’s handle the apartment stuff tomorrow.” I froze for a second, then forced a smile and nodded. “Okay, then I’ll just go…” Leo clapped me on the shoulder. “Where do you live? I can have my girlfriend give you a ride.” The smile froze on my face. Leo was so insistent that before I knew it, the car door had closed behind me. A cool, clean scent of pine drifted through the air. Beside me, I could hear Leo’s cheerful voice as he showed Aria his new haircut. Aria was sitting right in front of me. From my angle, I could see her hands on the steering wheel, her fingers pale and slender. She kept her eyes focused on the road, but she responded to every word he said. Looking at the reflection of her perfect profile in the rearview mirror, I felt a wave of disorientation. Aria had never been this patient with me. When we were together, she was always insecure, always on edge. She knew about my mission and was terrified I would leave at any moment. She’d often wake up in the middle of the night, startled, her hand flying to my side of the bed in a panic. And I would have to soothe her, time and time again, exhausted. “I’m not going to leave you alone. I love you, and it has nothing to do with the mission.” I kept repeating that lie right up until the moment I left. Aria had cried, her hand gripping mine, begging me not to go, begging me to stay a little longer, just a few more years. I had sighed and refused every plea. Her face had gone ashen, her eyes swirling with pain and a terrifying madness. “Why? Don’t you love me? How can you bear to leave me? You said you would never leave me alone!” I gave her a bitter smile. “I have my own love in the real world.” … Sensing my gaze, Aria frowned and lifted her eyes to the rearview mirror. Our eyes met. The car lurched forward with a sudden, violent stop. Unprepared, I slammed my forehead against the window. A bruise was already forming. “Sorry,” Aria’s voice was raspy. She turned her head slightly. “This is your stop.” It took me a second to realize what she meant. When Leo had asked for my address earlier, I’d just blurted out the name of a random apartment complex. “Oh,” I said, managing a “thank you.” I arranged to meet Leo the next day and got out of the car. Aria kept her eyes down, never once turning to look at me. She didn’t linger for a moment; the car’s taillights vanished around the corner in an instant. At the busy entrance to the complex, surrounded by strangers, I wrapped my arms around myself and slowly sank into a crouch. I don’t know how much time passed. Then, a familiar luxury car pulled up in front of me, silent and imposing. The window rolled down, revealing the sharp, clean lines of her profile. Aria was looking straight at me, her expression unreadable. “Get in.” 6 I had expected Aria to find an opportunity to see me. I just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. So soon that I hadn’t had time to prepare myself to face her. In the standoff, Aria raised a hand and lit a cigarette. I frowned instinctively. I hated it when she smoked. In the past, I would have snatched it from her and stubbed it out without a second thought. And back then, Aria would have listened. When I told her to quit, she never touched another one. She would never have been like this, a thin veil of white smoke separating us as she sized me up with an unapologetic gaze. I bit my tongue, about to speak, when the text feed exploded again. > What’s the Ex being so reserved for? Does she actually think the heroine has some ulterior motive for meeting her? > The heroine knew she was back the whole time. She just didn’t want to upset the puppy, so she didn’t say anything in the car. > She’s only meeting her alone to warn her not to run her mouth in front of the puppy. That’s it. I remained silent, standing where I was. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. The impulsive flicker of hope from a moment ago was extinguished completely. Right now, I had no right to tell her what to do. The pale, slender hand resting on the car window lowered. Aria’s expression was unreadable as she looked away. After a moment, as if in concession to some private, ironic thought, she crushed the cigarette out. “Weren’t you buying the apartment?” she said. “Get in. I’ll take you to see it.” 7 The drive was silent. Aria clearly had no intention of speaking. The text feed, however, was a cacophony. > Smart move by the Ex. She knows the passenger seat is reserved for the boyfriend, so she got in the back. > I thought the heroine was going to warn her? Why is she taking her back to their old place? > Don’t worry, guys. The heroine doesn’t know the Ex’s real game plan yet. Once she reveals her true colors, the heroine will be even more disgusted. … When we arrived, I couldn’t help but speak. “Is there nothing you want to… ask me?” The hand holding the key paused. Aria glanced down at me, her eyebrow raised, waiting for me to continue. I gathered my courage. “Like why I came back, how long I’m staying, or… what my purpose is in buying this apartment.” “Not interested,” Aria said, her tone flat as she looked away. “I don’t care who buys this place. I’m erasing everything that has to do with you. As for why you’re back…” She stuffed her hands in her pockets, a faint, humorless laugh escaping her lips. “Don’t tell me you’re here to win me over again.” I was silent for a beat. “What if I am?” 8 “Then by all means, try.” Aria pushed the door open. It creaked. The apartment revealed itself to me again, every detail sharp and clear. A single shaft of light cut through the room, illuminating dancing dust motes. Aria stood just behind me and to my left, the edge of her jacket brushing against my sleeve. She said nothing. I said nothing. In the silence, it felt like we had stepped back in time to a normal afternoon during our marriage. We’d just come home from the farmers’ market. Her fingers would be looped with plastic bags, all filled with my favorite vegetables and snacks. We’d be laughing and teasing each other all the way home. The moment the door closed, she would leap onto me, her arms wrapped around my neck, giggling as she searched for my lips. I’d lean back, feigning reluctance, until my back was pressed against the door, my hands holding her waist as I returned her kiss. … A hand suddenly clamped around my wrist. My body went rigid. Aria released me just as quickly, her expression once again neutral. “Have a look around. Selling it to you saves me the trouble of cleaning the place out.” I nodded, took a cursory walk around the apartment, and came back. “It’s fine. I already arranged with Leo to transfer the title tomorrow. Just give him the deed. You don’t need to be there.” “Fine.” Aria’s agreement was swift. After a slight pause, her voice dripped with a slow, deliberate sarcasm. “You don’t have to be so guarded. If I had my way, I’d hope to never see you again in this lifetime.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “The only reason I met you alone was because I was worried you’d say something in front of Leo. I don’t want to make him unhappy. Do you understand?” I took a quiet, deep breath. “I won’t mention our past relationship to Leo.” “Good.” Silence again. After that, I knew I should have the decency to leave. But for that fifty thousand dollars… My voice trembled slightly as I spoke. “Aria, I was wrong back then. I never should have left you.” A flicker of something disturbed the dark surface of her eyes. She narrowed her gaze, studying me, as if considering something. “Go on.” “I came back to make it up to you. And I realized… I still love you. Could you…” I looked at her, my heart pounding. “Could you give me another chance?” 9 The room plunged into a dead silence. After I said the words, my vision was almost completely obscured by the deluge of mocking text. I closed my eyes, humiliated. My face burned with shame. After a long time, a low chuckle echoed in the room. “What’s this? Your comatose wife in the real world finally died, so you remembered your ever-reliable backup plan?” My head snapped up, a muscle in my jaw twitching. My lips trembled with a rage I couldn’t voice. It was all reflected in Aria’s beautiful eyes. She raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, didn’t you notice? I have my own love now, too.” Her tone was light, casual. But her dark eyes were locked on mine. My own eyes felt dry. I blinked hard. “I know.” Aria seemed to smile, but it held no emotion. The only thing she left me with was the image of her back as she walked out the door. > YES! God, I have waited so long for this moment. > Hahahaha, the boomerang came back and hit the Ex right in the face. > The Ex should just quit the System already. Even if she saves the heroine a hundred more times, the heroine will never love her again. > But the heroine still went soft on her. She left the key to the apartment so she wouldn’t be homeless… wait, what’s under the key? I blinked, my gaze shifting to the clear plastic cover on the small table. Aria had indeed left the apartment key behind. And under the tarnished brass key was a small red booklet. > HOLY S**T! Am I seeing this right? That’s the property deed! > Why would the heroine leave the deed for the Ex?! Shouldn’t she give something that important to the puppy? My hand trembled as I opened the booklet. The text feed suddenly went quiet. On the deed, there was only one name written. Mine.

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My brother’s fiancée was a snake. The very first day she set foot in our house, she cooed at me, her voice all honey and silk. “Ethan, your sister is just adorable.” A second later, she “tripped,” sending a full cup of coffee splashing across the limited-edition designer bag my brother had just given me. Her eyes instantly welled with tears. “Oh, Mia, I am so, so sorry. Let me pay for it…” As she said it, her gaze darted to my brother, a silent, pleading prayer for him to swoop in and save her. But before he could say a word, I smiled. A sharp, bright, unforgiving smile. “Pay for it? Sophia, why don’t you just cut the act?” “What, are you jealous that my brother buys me nice things? If you’re that jealous, just say it.” “Pulling this kind of pathetic, underhanded stunt…” I shoved the ruined bag right in front of her face. “Don’t you feel disgusting?” Sophia recoiled, a perfect picture of wounded innocence, her eyes flicking around the living room, searching for an ally. Tough luck. My brother worships the ground I walk on, my parents would move mountains for me, and my grandparents? They think the sun rises and sets with me. The support she was hoping for never came. Instead, she got my grandmother’s furious gasp, my grandfather’s hand slamming on the table, and my father’s icy glare. And from my brother, a sharp, disbelieving question that cut through the air. “Sophia! What the hell is wrong with you?” The color drained from the snake’s face, leaving it a chalky, brittle white. 1 Today was the first time I was officially meeting my future sister-in-law. She arrived with beautifully wrapped gift boxes in hand, her smile a carefully crafted mix of warmth and grace. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, it’s so wonderful to meet you. And you must be Mia’s grandparents.” She gave a slight, deferential bow, her posture screaming humility. “Oh, darling, you shouldn’t have,” my mother said, her own smile genuine as she welcomed her in. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home.” My father gave a quiet nod of approval. Sophia stepped inside, and her eyes landed on me. Her smile deepened. “And you must be Mia. You’re even prettier in person. Ethan was right, you’re absolutely adorable.” “Hi, nice to meet you,” I replied, offering a sweet smile of my own. Ethan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his voice filled with a dopey sort of pride. “This is my little sister, Mia. Mia, this is your future sister-in-law, Sophia.” “Hi, Sophia,” I chirped. “Mia, look what I got for you,” Ethan said, holding out a box. “That bag you were talking about last week? I managed to track one down.” My eyes went wide. I shot up from the couch. “No way! I thought the waitlist was months long!” “Your big brother has his connections, doesn’t he?” He grinned, ruffling my hair with that familiar, loving gesture. Sophia walked over to me, her eyes glinting as she took in the box. “That’s a beautiful bag, Mia. Ethan is just so good to you.” My fingers had just brushed the strap, my own “thank you” forming on my lips, when I caught a glimpse of her expression as she turned away. It wasn’t envy. It wasn’t admiration. It was pure, unadulterated jealousy. A cold knot formed in my stomach. This woman didn’t like me. She was putting on a show. She seamlessly pivoted back to my parents, her voice a soft, melodic murmur, every word perfectly chosen. Ethan, meanwhile, was completely oblivious, beaming like an idiot. “Mom, Dad, isn’t Sophia great? She’s so sweet and thoughtful, and she’s already so good to Mia.” Good to me? Right. I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my brain. My parents just smiled and nodded, and for a moment, the living room was a picture of perfect harmony. 2 And just like that, Sophia moved in. Ostensibly, it was to “get to know the family better” before the wedding. After dinner one evening, I was curled up in my attic loft, reading a graphic novel. I heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by Sophia’s voice, deliberately softened to a breathy whisper. “Ethan, look at Mia’s loft! It’s so romantic. With that huge skylight, you must be able to see all the stars at night.” I didn’t even lift my head. Ethan’s voice was laced with a smile. “Yeah, Mia’s loved this space since she was a kid.” “It’s amazing,” Sophia breathed, her tone full of longing. “Ethan, what do you think about us turning this into our own little private space after we’re married? We could make it a cozy reading nook or a home theater. It would be so romantic!” Ethan paused. “But… this is Mia’s room.” Sophia ignored him. The footsteps continued up the stairs. Her face appeared in the doorway, plastered with that impeccably considerate smile. “Mia, honey. Reading?” She walked in, her gaze sweeping greedily across the photos and books lining my walls, finally settling on the glass skylight above. She turned back to me, her voice practically dripping honey. “Mia, sweetie, I was just thinking. It must be so inconvenient for you, living all the way up here in the attic, having to go up and down these stairs all the time.” “The guest room downstairs is so much bigger and more accessible. Why don’t you let me… look after the loft for you? I promise I’ll keep it spotless. You can move into the guest room, and your parents won’t have to worry about you getting tired from the stairs.” If you want to steal my room, just say so. Why wrap it in a pretty little bow? I finally looked up from my book. “No, thanks, Sophia.” The smile on her face froze for a fraction of a second. I blinked innocently. “This is my room. I’ve lived up here for over a decade. I don’t find it inconvenient at all.” Then, as if a brilliant idea had just struck me, I raised my voice just enough to carry down the stairs. “Sophia, is there something wrong with the guest room? Is the mattress too hard? Is the Wi-Fi signal bad?” I paused, then offered my most helpful suggestion. “You can just tell Maria, you know. She can get you a new mattress, or we can get a signal booster. Oh, I know!” I swiveled toward the top of the stairs, yelling down to my dad, who was reading the paper in the living room. “Dad! I think Sophia hates the guest room and wants my loft! Maybe you can build her a new little cottage in the garden? Make sure it has a skylight!” 3 My words detonated the quiet atmosphere in the living room below. I heard my grandmother let out a bark of laughter. “Our Mia is right! Why should she give up her room? Sophia, if you’re not comfortable here, Ethan can get you a suite at the Four Seasons. You’ll be much more comfortable there.” My dad lowered his newspaper and shot a look at Sophia. “The loft is Mia’s sanctuary. Nobody touches it.” My mother’s voice, though still gentle, had an edge of steel. “Sophia, if there’s anything you need for the guest room, anything at all that’s not to your liking, you just tell me. Don’t hesitate. I’ll have it taken care of immediately. But Mia loves her loft, and that’s where she’ll stay.” It was only then that Ethan seemed to catch on. He scratched his head, turning to Sophia. “I mean… I can ask Maria to swap out the mattress for a softer one? The loft is pretty old anyway. If Mia likes it, she should just stay here.” Before he could finish, the door to the study creaked open. My grandfather emerged, leaning on his cane, his face a thundercloud. “Ethan! Are you deaf? What belongs to Mia is hers, and not even the President of the United States can take it away from her!” “One more word out of you, and you can both go check into that hotel right now!” Though his words were aimed at Ethan, every single one was a bullet aimed directly at Sophia. The blood drained from her face, leaving it pale and waxy. After a few seconds that stretched into an eternity, she managed to produce a smile that looked more painful than a grimace. “Grandpa… please don’t be angry. I—I was just joking.” “The loft is Mia’s, of course it is. I’m perfectly fine in the guest room, really…” I watched her pathetic, backpedaling display and scoffed internally. Joking? Who’s joking with you? Trying to steal my things, in my own house. You’ve got to get through my grandparents, my parents, and my brother first. Good luck with that. 4 The weekend family dinner had just wrapped up, and the mood was relaxed. Ethan slid a small, elegant jewelry box across the table toward me. “That bracelet you sent me a picture of a while back. I had someone pull some strings.” “Wow! More presents from my favorite brother!” I said, my voice bright with excitement as I opened it. “Is this the new design?” “Yep. Try it on,” Ethan said, his chin lifted with pride. “Wow, Mia, that’s gorgeous!” Sophia, hearing the commotion, came over and sat down next to Ethan. She wore her usual gentle smile, but her eyes kept flicking sideways toward him. “You’re so lucky, Mia. Ethan really spoils you. I heard that piece costs a small fortune.” She paused, making her voice even softer, laced with a playful pout. “Ethan never spoils me with gifts that expensive. I guess it’s true what they say… a sister’s love comes first.” The easygoing atmosphere in the room suddenly crackled with tension. Ethan, completely oblivious, was tapping out a work email on his phone. He didn’t notice the daggers flying through the air. “Hmm? Yeah, well, Mia wanted it,” he mumbled without looking up. I fastened the bracelet and tilted my wrist, then looked directly at Sophia. “Oh, this old thing?” I said breezily. “Didn’t Ethan just buy you that bottle of limited-edition perfume for your birthday last week?” I pretended to think for a moment. “I’m pretty sure that cost even more than this bracelet.” Ethan looked up, scratching his head. “Did it? I don’t really look at the price.” I turned to him, my expression one of deep, earnest concern. “Ethan, is Sophia unhappy with your gift? Do you think you should go out right now and buy her something more expensive?” My dad, hidden behind his magazine, let out a choked snort of laughter. Sophia’s face went pale, her hands clenching tightly around her water glass. “That’s… that’s not what I meant…” “It’s only natural for Ethan to dote on his sister,” my mother said, re-entering the room. She swept a cool, appraising gaze over Sophia. “And I believe we’ve been more than generous with the gifts for our future daughter-in-law, haven’t we?” My grandmother scooted closer to me, taking my hand to admire the bracelet. “Of course, our Mia gets the best of everything. Some people should learn not to be so greedy, getting jealous over every little thing they see.” Sophia forced a brittle smile. “I was just teasing. Mia, please don’t take it the wrong way.” “Oh, teasing. I see,” I said, giving my wrist a little shake. “For a second there, I thought you were calling my brother cheap. Scared me for a minute. I guess I’m just too sincere; I always take people at their word!” Sophia looked like she’d just swallowed a rock. She sat there, rigid and silent, unable to form a comeback. Ethan, bless his heart, was still trying to solve the problem. “Sophia, if you like the bracelet, I can get one for you, too.” My grandmother and I couldn’t help it. We both burst out laughing. 5 I was about to head out to meet a friend. The new bag Ethan had bought me was sitting on the console table in the entryway, ready for me to grab and show off. Sophia walked out of the dining room, a mug of coffee in her hand. She had that familiar, placid smile on her face as her eyes scanned the entryway. The coffee mug seemed to wobble in her grip as she made a slight detour, heading toward the console table. Alarm bells went off in my head, but before I could even move, it happened. “Oh!” Sophia cried out, lurching forward as if she’d tripped over thin air. The entire mug of dark brown liquid arched through the air and saturated my new bag. A roaring sound filled my ears. I lunged forward and snatched the bag up. A huge, dark coffee stain was already blooming across the cream-colored leather. It was completely ruined. I stared at the stain, pure rage shooting up my spine. It was a limited edition! One of only ten in the world! A gift from my brother! Destroyed! “Sophia!” My voice shook with fury. “What did you do?” Her eyes immediately filled with tears as she fumbled for a napkin. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! I just tripped…” “Tripped?” I stared at her. “I saw you walk right toward it! You did this on purpose!” The more I looked at her, the angrier I got. I shoved the bag toward her. “If you have a problem with me, say it to my face! What did my bag ever do to you?” “I didn’t…” The tears started to fall, her voice catching in a sob. “Mia… how could you think that of me? I really, truly didn’t do it on purpose!” “Sob… I know the bag is expensive, I’ll pay for it, okay? Please, just don’t be angry. Don’t let Ethan and your parents misunderstand me…” “Pay for it?” I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Open your eyes. This is a limited edition. You can’t buy it, even if you have the money! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I locked my eyes on hers. “Are you jealous that my brother buys me nice things? Is that it? If you’re jealous, just say it! Pulling this kind of pathetic, underhanded stunt… Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” My shouting brought the rest of the family running. Ethan appeared, looking stunned, his gaze flickering to the sobbing Sophia. “What’s going on?” 6 “Look what she did, Ethan!” I held up the stained bag. “She poured coffee all over it and now she’s claiming it was an accident!” Sophia’s crying intensified. “Ethan, I swear, it was an accident…” Ethan’s eyes darted between me and her, finally landing on her face, his brow furrowed in a deep V. “Sophia, what happened?” My mom and grandma came out then, my mom frowning. “Isn’t that the bag Ethan just gave Mia? Sophia, you say it was an accident, but Mia says she saw you walk toward the table intentionally. How do you explain that?” “I…” Sophia bit her lip, tears streaming down her face. “I honestly didn’t see it there…” “Didn’t see it?” My grandma marched over and stood beside me, a pillar of indignation. “In all her life, has Mia ever once falsely accused anyone of anything?” “If she says she saw you, then she saw you! You think you can pull the wool over our eyes? Not a chance!” My grandpa emerged from his study, leaning on his cane. He slammed the end of it down on the floor. “Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable! To pull a stunt like this right under our noses? To damage Mia’s things in our own home? Do you think we’re all dead?” Sophia flinched, her voice a choked whisper. “Grandpa, I really didn’t…” My grandma cut her off, taking a step forward. “Fine. Then you’ll pay for it. The full original price, not a penny less.” “And you will apologize to Mia right now. A sincere apology. Or nobody is leaving this room today!” The living room fell silent. The combined weight of my family’s stares was a physical force, pinning Sophia in place. Ethan’s expression was a complicated storm of doubt and disappointment. My parents’ faces were grim, set like stone. My grandparents were practically radiating fury. The air was so thick with tension it felt like it could shatter. Sophia was crouched on the floor, wiping her tears, her hand reaching for Ethan’s arm. He sidestepped her touch. He ignored her completely, turning to me first. “Mia, are you okay? Don’t worry about the bag… I’ll figure out a way to get you another one. Don’t be upset.” I was still too furious to speak. Seeing my silence, Sophia started crying even harder. “Ethan, I really didn’t mean it…” Only then did he turn back to her, his gaze like ice. “Crying isn’t going to solve this. Apologize to Mia.” Sophia froze, clearly not expecting such a cold response from him. She mumbled, “Mia… I’m sorry…” “I can’t hear you,” Ethan cut in flatly. “Be sincere.” She bit her lip, and this time her voice trembled. “I’m sorry.” My grandpa snorted. “Ethan’s right, tears are useless. If you didn’t at least look a little bit remorseful, I’d have you thrown out today.” Ethan added one more thing, his eyes boring into Sophia. “And remember this: from now on, you stay away from Mia’s things. If I ever see you upset her again, you won’t have to wait for my grandparents to say something. I will personally show you the door.” Sophia’s face was as white as a sheet. She nodded, finally stifling her sobs. Only then did Ethan turn back to me, ruffling my hair, his voice softening. “Don’t be angry anymore, okay? I’ll take you out for hot pot tonight, your favorite place.” 7 I thought that after that public shaming, Sophia might finally back off. She was quiet for a few days, and then she started again. One afternoon, she was curled up on the corner of the sofa, her eyes still puffy and red. She kept stealing glances at Ethan, her expression a careful blend of contrition and hope. Ethan acted like she was invisible, his attention glued to his phone, a good three feet of space between them. Suddenly, she gasped, scrambling to her feet. “Ethan, have you seen my bracelet? The one my grandmother left me?” Her voice was trembling, already on the verge of tears. Ethan gave her a cool, dismissive glance and shook his head. “I was wearing it yesterday. I took it off to clean it, and now I can’t find it anywhere.” Her voice grew more frantic. “It’s the only thing I have left from my grandmother…” She started frantically digging through the sofa cushions, tossing them onto the floor. “Calm down and think carefully,” my dad said, frowning at her from across the room. Sophia tore through several rooms in the house, her search growing more and more theatrical. “I’ve looked everywhere! It’s gone!” she cried. “What if… what if it fell off somewhere else?” Her eyes flickered around the room before finally landing on me, a hesitant, pleading look on her face. “Mia, could I… could I just look in your room? Please? That bracelet means everything to me.” Her gaze was heavy with manufactured desperation. I stared back, my face a blank mask. Seriously? She’s trying to frame me again? Ethan glanced at me, said nothing, and then stood up and walked toward the stairs. The message was clear: Go ahead. Look. The whole procession followed Sophia upstairs. She made a beeline for my desk and yanked open the top drawer. Her fingers scrabbled around inside for a moment, then froze. She let out a short, sharp gasp and carefully lifted out a broken silver bracelet. “I found it…” Her voice trembled as she held the broken chain out to Ethan, tears streaming down her face. “Ethan, why is it broken? And what was it doing in Mia’s drawer…?”

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My dad never did housework, but he treated his car like a temple. Every day after work, he’d wipe it down until it was spotless. Today, Mom asked me to grab a shopping bag she’d left inside. I was in the passenger seat when I saw it—a single, long, curled hair on the floor mat. I picked it up. “Mom,” I asked, holding it out as she reached for the bag. “When did you get your hair curled just like Ms. Hayes?” 1 Her hand froze mid-air. Her eyes fixed on the strand of hair between my fingers, and the smile on her face didn’t just fade, it collapsed. “What is it, Mom?” She didn’t say anything. She just took the hair from me, her fingers rolling it, holding it up to the light. After a long moment, she tossed it into the small trash bin by the door. Her voice trembled just a little. “It’s nothing, sweetie. I haven’t curled my hair. Just some dirt that blew into the car.” She pulled me up the stairs to our apartment, her pace suddenly urgent. Back inside, she didn’t play with me or turn on the TV like she usually did. She just stood by the front door, waiting. The dim light of the entryway stretched her shadow long and thin across the floor. When Dad got home, he was humming, a cheerful, carefree tune. “Honey, I’m home.” He opened his arms for a hug, but Mom took a sharp step back, her eyes locked on the collar of his shirt. His arms hung awkwardly in the air. “What’s wrong?” She didn’t answer. She just leaned in, helping him off with his jacket, and pressed her nose to the fabric for a moment. “Cole,” she said, her voice flat. “You smell like perfume.” He blinked, then laughed, a little too loud. “Oh, that. I was at a dinner with a new client, a woman. Must have gotten too close when we were talking. You know how it is.” He started to pull up his sleeve to show her. Mom didn’t look. Instead, she opened her hand. Lying on her palm was the long, curled strand of hair. “Is that so?” she said, her voice dangerously quiet. “And did this client also happen to leave her hair in your passenger seat?” The blood drained from my father’s face. He stared at the hair, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. After a few seconds, he snatched the hair from her hand and threw it on the floor, his voice turning cold. “What are you trying to say? You’re going to interrogate me over a stray hair and a little scent? The kid is right here!” He pulled me behind him, crouching down to squeeze my cheeks. “Lily, sweetie, don’t you worry. Daddy only has room in his heart for you and Mommy.” With that, he walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The sound of rushing water filled the apartment. Mom stood frozen in the same spot. I walked over and tugged on her sleeve. “Mommy? Is what Daddy said true?” She looked down, her face a mask, and kissed my forehead. “Of course it is.” But all I could see were her eyes. The light in them had gone out. 2 The next day at school, as soon as I walked into the classroom, I smelled it. A familiar scent. It was the exact same perfume from Dad’s shirt. My head snapped up. I stared at Ms. Hayes. She was wearing a beautiful dress today, her long, curled hair falling over her shoulders. When she smiled, her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was so pretty. “Ms. Hayes, you smell so good.” She paused, a strange glint in her eye, then she smiled and patted my head. “It’s a new perfume someone special gave me. Do you like it?” I nodded enthusiastically. When I got home, I told my mom all about it. “Mommy, Ms. Hayes’s perfume… it’s the exact same one that was on Daddy’s shirt yesterday!” Mom was slicing an apple. The knife clattered against the cutting board. She looked at me, her lips parted, but she said nothing. After that, I knew Mom was sad. When she read me bedtime stories, her mind was somewhere else. But when she hugged me, she held on tighter than ever before. One night, I woke up to use the bathroom and heard Dad on the balcony, on the phone. He was keeping his voice low, but I could still hear him. “Of course I miss you… stop it, you.” A pause. “Lily’s schoolwork… yeah, I owe you big time for helping her out. I told her, Ms. Hayes is the best teacher she’s ever had.” I tiptoed to the door and peered through the crack. Dad was leaning back in his chair, holding his phone, a gentle smile on his face I’d never seen before. It wasn’t his Daddy-smile. It was different. Just then, a floorboard creaked in Mom’s bedroom. He immediately ended the call, the smile vanishing from his face as if it had never been there. He opened the balcony door and jumped when he saw me standing there. “Lily? What are you doing up?” I looked up at him. “Daddy, was that Ms. Hayes?” His face went stiff. “No, honey. Just a colleague from work. We were talking business.” He carried me back to my room and tucked me into bed. “Go to sleep now. Little girls shouldn’t worry about grown-up things.” But I couldn’t sleep. Daddy was lying. That voice, the way he was talking, I knew it was her. The next evening, Mom was reading to me and her mind drifted off again. I looked at her tired face and decided to tell her my big discovery, hoping it would make her happy. “Ms. Hayes has a new Instagram account. The picture isn’t the same one she uses for the parent group chat.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “That’s who Daddy was talking to last night. I saw it.” Mom’s body went rigid. She took a long drink of water, then asked, trying to sound casual, “Lily, do you… do you remember the username?” I nodded proudly. “Of course! The account Daddy was looking at had a painting for its picture. A sunflower she painted herself!” I continued, reciting it from memory. “The name was her last name, Hayes, then the numbers 1-1-1-1, and at the end, the letters CG.” Mom’s face went completely white. I could hear her breathing, getting faster and faster. After a long time, she whispered his name through clenched teeth. “Cole… Green…”

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They called me the “Destiny Thief” in the comment sections that haunted my vision, all because I’d accepted an opportunity the golden girl had thrown away. Now, in this second life, she was back to reclaim everything. And her anonymous audience was cheering her on. “This time, our baby girl won’t let anyone steal what’s hers.” The irony was, she’d been given a second chance at life and hadn’t learned a single thing. 1 The moment consciousness returned, I knew. I was twenty-two again. A fresh college graduate, standing in a hallway of the Rhodes Corporation, waiting for a job interview. I stared at my reflection in the polished marble wall—the face was mine, but a decade younger, free of the lines of stress and grief I’d earned. A dizzying wave of shock and elation washed over me. That’s when the words appeared, materializing in the empty air before me. “Ugh, the last timeline was so gross. It made me sick.” “I know, right? How did that side character manage to steal all the heroine’s good luck?” “Thank GOD for the do-over! This time our baby girl gets to keep everything she deserves!” I blinked, bewildered, staring at the ghostly captions floating in my vision. What the hell was this? Heroine? Side character? Was this some kind of sick joke? It took me a moment to decipher their meaning. The so-called “Destiny Thief,” the “side character,” was me. And “our baby girl,” the heroine… was Claire Covington. My gaze snapped to the other side of the waiting area. There she was. Claire, sitting perfectly poised, though a flicker of confusion in her eyes suggested she, too, was taking in her surroundings with a sense of dislocation. And in that instant, I understood. She was back, too. She’d also been reborn. “Why is that thief staring at the heroine?” “She probably noticed Claire’s acting weird after respawning.” “Oh god, don’t tell me she’s going to start scheming already. I can’t watch that again!” Just for looking at her, a torrent of vitriol flooded my vision. The words were vile, accusations laced with a bizarre, personal hatred. A hot surge of anger burned in my chest. What the hell? When did I ever steal anything from her? As if summoned by my fury, Claire rose and walked toward me. I watched her approach, my posture tensing with alarm. In our last life, we’d crossed paths a few times, but we were hardly acquaintances. Now, however, her eyes held a chilling, predatory glint that made the hair on my arms stand up. “Audrey,” she said, her voice dripping with a condescending sweetness. “We meet again. This time, I won’t let you take what belongs to me. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave now and stop wasting everyone’s time.” She paused, then sighed with theatrical pity. “Oh, but I suppose there’s no point in telling you that now. You wouldn’t understand.” With that, she turned on her heel and swept into the interview room, leaving me alone in the hallway, reeling. I was completely lost. What had I supposedly stolen from her in our past life? A few fragmented memories surfaced, sharp and clear. But if I remembered correctly… weren’t all those so-called “opportunities” things she herself had thrown away? In our past life, we had both been here, interviewing for this same position at the Rhodes Corporation. I had failed the interview and was on my way out, dejected. But then the Director of HR had rushed after me, calling my name. My heart had soared as I followed her back, but my excitement was tempered by her non-stop muttering under her breath. It turned out that Claire and I had been neck-and-neck in our interview scores. But because Claire’s family was local and well-connected, the company had given her the edge. The offer was hers. To their shock, upon hearing the news, Claire had demanded a ridiculously inflated salary. She insisted she was a “generational talent” and knew her worth. The HR Director had tried everything—reason, flattery, laying out the company’s generous bonus structure and industry salary standards—patiently explaining that no company on earth would offer that kind of money to a fresh graduate with zero experience. 2 Claire hadn’t budged. She’d given them an ultimatum: meet her price, or she’d take her “generational talent” elsewhere. The HR Director was practically vibrating with rage. She’d finally agreed on the surface, just to get Claire out of her office, before promptly rescinding the offer. And just like that, the job at the Rhodes Corporation had fallen into my lap. So, that was me stealing her destiny? It was the direct result of her own spectacular arrogance! For the first time, I understood the sheer, teeth-grinding frustration that poor HR Director must have felt. It was infuriating. The comments in the air continued their relentless scroll. “Look at the thief’s face. She looks so pissed. I’m living for this.” “Serves the talentless hack right! The more miserable she is, the better I feel!” “Get lost, you leech! I hate characters that steal opportunities from others!” Hah. The fans were just as delusional as their idol. I almost laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. The anger was so intense it cycled back around to sheer absurdity. Just as the nausea from the floating comments reached its peak, the interview room door opened and Claire emerged. The look of smug satisfaction on her face soured my mood even further. To be fair, she wasn’t incompetent. Even the HR Director in our last life had admitted our interview performances were comparable. If she hadn’t acted like a spoiled princess, the job would have been hers, fair and square. Now, with a decade of high-level experience under my belt, I was no longer the naive rookie I once was. My desire for this specific entry-level job wasn’t what it used to be. But seeing her smugness, and the fawning praise of her invisible cheerleaders, lit a fire in me. The comment section was, of course, having a field day at my expense. “YES! Our girl nailed it!” “She’s so amazing. Her answers were almost identical to the last timeline! Flawless!” “The thief doesn’t stand a chance this time! LOL.” That last one gave me pause. Flawless execution? Identical to the last timeline? Wait a minute. You get a do-over, a second chance at life… and you don’t improve at all? You’re just recycling the same old answers from ten years ago? “Audrey Vance? We’re ready for you.” The voice from the HR department pulled me from my thoughts. “Coming,” I replied, standing up and smoothing my skirt. In that moment, all thoughts of Claire Covington vanished. In my previous life, I had poured my soul into the Rhodes Corporation, working my way up to Vice President. I knew every department, every process, every hidden strength and festering weakness of this company. My greatest regret was that I hadn’t been able to push it to its ultimate potential before I died. I had thought, for a moment, that Claire’s return would cost me this chance. But if she was just going to repeat the past… then the responsibility of fixing my life’s biggest regret fell squarely on my shoulders. As I stepped into the conference room, I saw Claire shoot me a triumphant, mocking smile from the hallway. She wouldn’t be smiling for long. My interview was more than smooth. It was, to put it mildly, a revelation. The HR Director’s eyes widened, then lit up. More than once, she told me I was exactly the kind of forward-thinking talent Rhodes Corp desperately needed. I was satisfied with my own performance. Compared to my answers a decade ago, my analysis now was sharper, deeper, and devastatingly accurate. But the moment I stepped out of the room, my good mood evaporated. Claire was waiting, watching me with an expression of pity that was almost comical in its arrogance. She spoke slowly, as if to a child. “You really did your best, Audrey. It’s a shame, really. This position was always meant for me.” 3 I honestly wanted to ask her where she got that kind of bulletproof confidence. But the ghostly comments floating in the air answered for her. “Last time, the thief stole the heroine’s job, and it ruined her life.” “It’s about time the thief gets a taste of her own medicine.” “I can’t wait to see the look on her stupid face when she gets rejected. LMAO.” That did it. The last of my composure snapped. What was wrong with these people? Wasn’t Claire the one who had arrogantly proclaimed that if Rhodes Corp didn’t hire her, other companies would be lining up to beg for her? She torpedoed her own career and somehow, that was my fault? What did I even do? Oh, that’s right. My greatest crime was doing nothing at all, and yet I was branded a thief. If I had actually schemed or plotted against her, these unhinged commenters would have probably called for my public execution. Realizing this, a strange sense of calm washed over me. I ignored Claire completely and walked back to my seat. As furious as I was, this was a professional environment. Making a scene would accomplish nothing. Besides, the most satisfying humiliation for Claire would be the final announcement. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face then. As I sat there, a storm of emotions churning inside me, the interview process continued. A steady stream of bright, ambitious young candidates flowed in and out of the room. The reason for the high turnout was an open secret. The heir to the corporation was about to officially take the reins. A new leader meant a big shake-up. And to make big moves, you needed a loyal, capable team. Rhodes Corp was ripe for a revolution, a cleansing of the old guard. Everyone here was hungry for a piece of that new world. And, as fate would have it, the heir to the Rhodes Corporation was my husband from my past life. The thought had barely crossed my mind when the conference room door opened again, interrupting my reverie. But it wasn’t the HR Director. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, in a suit so exquisitely tailored it looked like a second skin. His eyes were sharp, his jawline severe. As his gaze swept across the waiting area, an involuntary hush fell over the room. It was him. The heir to the Rhodes Corporation. Grant Rhodes. “Wait, why is the male lead here???” “OMG! It must be because our baby girl did so well!” “Of course! This time the Destiny Thief won’t get her hands on the male lead either!” More captions flew past my eyes. I frowned. What did they mean? Grant had some kind of history with Claire, too? My gaze shifted to Grant, and my expression instantly soured with contempt. So, he was tainted goods. Off the table. For some reason, my stare caught his. His eyes met mine, and for a split second, they widened in what looked like… confusion? As if he couldn’t decipher the disdain in my look. I coolly broke eye contact. Whatever. Let’s just see how this plays out. “Ahem.” Grant cleared his throat, his voice commanding silence. “Good afternoon. I assume you all know who I am, so I’ll skip the introduction. I have two announcements to make. First, we have decided on one finalist from today’s interviews. And that person is…” 4 Grant’s voice was a low baritone, but it made every heart in the room pound against their ribs. I found myself staring at his lips, trying to read the name before he spoke it. But the name that left them was: “…Claire Covington.” The comments exploded. “HAHAHA! OF COURSE IT’S OUR GIRL!” “I’m so happy I could cry! Take that, thief!” “The look on the side character’s face is PRICELESS. Love it, love to see it!” Claire stood up, a model of graceful modesty, before shooting me a sidelong glance. The meaning in that look was unmistakable. Pure, unadulterated gloating. But I didn’t feel the sting of defeat. All I felt was a wave of profound disappointment in Grant. My interview answers had targeted the company’s deepest flaws, many of which were conclusions he and I had come to together, over years of late nights at the office in our past life. And still, he chose her. I stood up immediately and turned to leave. If the Rhodes Corporation didn’t want me, there was no reason to stay. Just as I took a step, Grant’s voice cut through the air behind me. “Ms. Vance, you can’t leave yet. I’d like to discuss your answers from the interview in greater detail. Would you be willing to join me in my office?” I turned back. What I saw was Grant’s earnest, expectant expression, and Claire’s face, which had twisted into a mask of pure shock and venomous rage.

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I ended up with the boy who destroyed my life. Three years ago, I begged Ethan Cross to leave me alone. He crushed my hand under his boot and called me trash. Three years later, he was on his knees, sobbing, begging me not to leave him. And I threw those same words right back in his face. 1 I was pinned against the wall. The alley smelled of stale beer and desperation. My fingers, trembling, typed one last message to the only person who understood me, the boy I’d fallen for online. Then, the monster’s phone chimed. Ethan Cross pulled out his phone, and the cold cruelty in his eyes vanished, replaced by a softness that made my stomach twist. He sent the message, and a second later, my own phone buzzed silently in my pocket. It was the custom notification I’d set for him. For my Ryan. My head snapped up. There he was, under the sickly yellow glow of a streetlight, the sharp, perfect line of his jaw and the delicate features I knew so well. He was the spitting image of my Ryan. But the cigarette dangling from his lips, the dark violence simmering in his gaze… that was a stranger. This was not the sweet, bookish boy from the photos. For a dizzying moment, I couldn’t separate them. Was this my sweet Ryan, my online confidant? Or was this Tiffany Reed’s notorious boyfriend, the walking nightmare known as Ethan Cross? “Ethan, that’s the bitch who slashed my new purse!” Tiffany shrieked, her voice a weapon. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me, her eyes glinting with triumph. “She’s just jealous because she’s poor. White trash with sticky fingers.” “I didn’t…” I didn’t ruin her purse. She’d slapped me out of nowhere a few days ago. When she went to do it again, I ducked. She lost her balance, stumbled, and scraped her brand new, twenty-thousand-dollar bag against the brick wall. She’d screamed that I would pay for it. When I told her I couldn’t, she promised her boyfriend, Ethan Cross, would make me. I knew who Ethan was. Everyone did. He was from one of those old-money families with a business empire downtown. The rumors were dark—connections to unsavory people, a reputation for brutal, cold-blooded fights. They called him a demon, someone who wasn’t afraid of anything. I just never imagined that the demon and my sweet, gentle Ryan could be the same person. Ethan pushed himself off the wall and walked toward me. The warm lamplight did nothing to soften the icy chill in his eyes. His tall frame cast a long, suffocating shadow over me. My fists clenched. I heard his voice, devoid of all emotion. “Two choices. Pay for the bag, or get on your knees and apologize.” The cold, dismissive tone was a world away from the tender, loving words he’d sent me just minutes before. My mind short-circuited. A reckless, desperate hope flared inside me. I looked straight at him. “Do you believe me when I say I didn’t do it?” He stared at me for a long moment, then let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “Don’t be stupid.” He turned away, his voice thick with annoyance. “Teach her a lesson.” The blood froze in my veins. The world went silent. His friends forced me to my knees. The slaps came fast and hard, ringing in my ears. They tore at my clothes, kicked me in the stomach. The pain was so sharp I couldn’t even scream. Through it all, Ethan leaned against the far wall, indifferent. He was smiling softly at his phone screen, as if waiting for a message. I curled into a ball, absorbing the blows, hot tears finally breaking free. The consequences of being beaten by grown men meant I couldn’t get up for a long time. They’d knocked out two of my teeth, and the blood I spit up stained the collar of my shirt a deep, rusty red. I lay there on the filthy asphalt for three hours, a discarded object, before I could find the strength to crawl home. I didn’t dare tell my parents. They were good, honest people from a small town who worked themselves to the bone just to scrape by in this city. Thinking back, that was where it all started. I was bullied because I was from the country. The constant taunts—hick, trailer trash, you couldn’t afford to breathe the same air as us—had chipped away at my soul. I learned a hard lesson then: when you’re poor, dignity is a luxury you can’t afford. You’re just mud for other people to stomp in. “Hiss—” I dabbed at my cuts with antiseptic, alone in my room. God, it hurt. My phone kept buzzing with that special tone. Message after message from my sweet Ryan. The same affectionate, gentle words. But now, they made my skin crawl. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I typed and deleted, over and over. Finally, I just sent one thing. He paused for a second. Then, the reply came. 2 As if to prove it, he sent a picture of himself in the library. In the photo, a boy in a crisp white shirt smiled, his eyes full of sunshine. He stood by a bookshelf, the picture of a gentle, handsome scholar. It was all a beautiful lie. I was flooded with a strange, chilling sense of relief that I’d never sent him a picture of myself. Relief that he hadn’t recognized me. It was the only thing that gave me a chance to see who he really was. I couldn’t afford to miss class, couldn’t risk my grades slipping. After first period, Tiffany and her friends dragged me into the girls’ bathroom. They cornered me by the sinks. “Ava,” Tiffany drawled, inspecting her nails. “Still showing your face at school? Tsk, tsk. I guess last night wasn’t rough enough.” “Haha, she’s probably too stupid to feel it. She’s so ugly and gross, she’d have to have thick skin to not kill herself already!” “Her name’s Ava, but she’s more like a pig. A dirty, thick-skinned pig!” They laughed as one of them scooped murky, foul-smelling water from a toilet bowl and dumped it over my head. The cold, stinking liquid soaked my hair and ran down my neck, making me want to vomit. “See, Ava? Now you look on the outside how you are on the inside. Filthy and disgusting,” Tiffany sneered. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and slapped me twice, hard, before wiping her hand on a paper towel as if she’d touched something unclean. Then they left. I slid down the cold tile wall until I was sitting on the grimy floor. I buried my face in my knees, fighting to hold back the sobs. Tiffany locked me in there. I was stuck for the rest of the morning, until someone finally let me out during the lunch rush. I thought, hoped, that would be the end of it. But Tiffany was just getting started. In the days that followed, my desk was constantly vandalized, my homework would mysteriously disappear. After a few times, my teachers stopped believing my excuses. Tiffany was a ghost haunting my every step, her only pleasure turning my life into a public humiliation. One evening, I stayed late studying in the library, hoping to avoid her. It didn’t work. She and her crew were waiting for me at the entrance. She knocked my travel mug from my hand. It hit the concrete with a sharp crack, and the coffee I’d made to keep myself awake splashed all over my legs. The dark liquid instantly stained my new white jeans. Rage flared in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, but a warning glance from Ethan froze the words in my throat. He was standing right next to her, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his expression dripping with disdain. “What’s the matter, Ava? Got a problem?” Tiffany taunted, shoving me hard. I stumbled backward and fell, landing right in the puddle of spilled coffee and dirt. The earthy, bitter smell made my stomach churn. Her followers erupted in laughter, jeering that I looked like a pig rooting in slop. They started trying to force my face down into the muddy coffee on the ground. When my cheek was just inches from the pavement, the librarian came out to lock the doors. “What’s going on here!” Tiffany and her friends immediately let go, plastering innocent smiles on their faces. “We’re just playing Truth or Dare with Ava!” one of them chirped. “Yeah, Ava lost! Her dare was to drink the coffee off the ground!” “That’s not true,” I pleaded, looking desperately at the librarian. “Ma’am, they were forcing me.” The librarian’s brow furrowed. Before she could speak, Tiffany cut in, all smiles. “Oh, don’t listen to her, ma’am. She’s just a sore loser trying to get out of the dare!” “Yeah, Ava, don’t be like that. It’s just a game,” another girl added. It was their word against mine. They were many; I was one. Their story was united. Predictably, the librarian believed them. Her face hardened as she looked at me, then back at Tiffany. “Alright, that’s enough. This is a school, not a playground. Get home, all of you.” The librarian left, clearly wanting nothing more to do with it. Tiffany looked down at me, her smile dripping with poison. “You see that, Ava? They’re all on my side. No one will ever believe you.” “You can tattle to the teachers all you want. I have a hundred ways to get out of trouble. You, on the other hand… you’re not so lucky.” 3 My heart felt like a block of ice. I didn’t even hear the rest of what they said. I sat there on the cold ground for a long time, so long that the campus lights started shutting off, one by one. It wasn’t until a security guard found me and called my name that I realized I’d been staring into space for hours, sitting in a puddle of cold, sticky coffee. I walked home in a daze. My mother was in the kitchen, clattering dishes in the sink. “You’re a grown girl, can’t you keep your clothes clean? We don’t have money for new pants, you know.” “Instead of focusing on your studies, you had to go with this crazy art idea. It costs twice as much to support you! You’re just making our lives harder. Why can’t you be more like your cousin back home? She’s so diligent and thoughtful.” I was used to my mother’s complaints. I’d grown numb to them. But tonight… tonight, I felt the sting of tears. I ignored her and locked myself in my room. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. It was Ethan. My Ryan. It hurts his feelings? Yes. It would hurt his feelings. Even though our relationship was only online, I knew how much he depended on me. He needed to talk to me 24/7. He was starved for affection, crippled by insecurity. His family life was a mess, casting a long shadow over his childhood. After his mother died, he’d spiraled into a dark place. I happened to come into his life right then. I was the one who sat with him, virtually, through those agonizing months. After that, he was like a puppy showing its belly, offering me his entire heart. He’d once told me: I thought about his words, then pictured him standing by as Tiffany tormented me. My fingertips trembled. I asked him. No need. Ethan Cross, I have my own way of making my bully’s life a living hell. 4 During art class, Tiffany “accidentally” knocked over my paint tray as she walked by, then tore the canvas I was working on. “Ava, do people as poor and pathetic as you even deserve to study art? It’s so expensive. Can your family even afford it?” She strutted away, admiring her nails. I silently cleaned up the mess. Half my paints were gone, and my other supplies were stained. I sealed the remaining tubes of paint and took my soiled brushes to the sink, carefully washing the pigment from the bristles. I felt a pair of eyes on me. I looked over my shoulder. It was Ethan. He was leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his lips, watching me with an expression of pure mockery and contempt, like I was a clown in a circus. My grip on the brush tightened. He made no move to leave. When I tried to exit the restroom, he blocked my path, cornering me. “Apologize to Tiffany tomorrow.” His tone was absolute, his eyes a clear threat. “But I did nothing wrong. I didn’t damage her purse.” I found the courage to meet his gaze. The next second, the burning tip of his cigarette was pressed against my arm. “Cut the crap.” “It’s a twenty-thousand-dollar bag. All she wants is an apology. Don’t be an idiot.” “I’m not a patient guy. You know what happens if you don’t.” Ethan walked away. I clutched my burned arm, fat tears rolling silently down my cheeks. That night at home, my mother started in again, pleading with me to give up art. She said a family like ours couldn’t afford my dreams. My father finally told her to stop. Before bed, he came to my room. He told me to just focus on my studies, that the family would find a way to support my art. I looked at my dad, at the premature gray in his hair and the dull glint of his glass eye, and my heart ached. My dad lost an eye when he was a kid, beaten by some bullies in his village. On rainy days, or when he was overtired, the socket would ache terribly. But he never complained. He just shouldered the burden of our family. “Dad, I’ll get a part-time job. I promise, I can earn my own money soon.” My dad smiled, a sad, proud smile, and shook his head. He didn’t want me to worry. Then his expression grew serious. “You haven’t been yourself the last few days. Did something happen at school?” I shook my head. “If anyone is bullying you,” he said, his voice firm, “you have to tell us.” I nodded and told him not to worry. They were already working so hard. They didn’t need another burden. I’d learned to grow up tough and on my own. I always found a way. Tiffany thought I was some pushover she could crush for sport. But does being poor mean I have to swallow every injustice? The moment Tiffany demanded I pay for her bag, I’d already secured the security camera footage from the hallway showing her falling on her own. I’m poor. I know how to protect myself from being scammed. I documented the injuries from the alley and the bathroom. I got a copy of the library’s security tape. I had barely responded to Ethan’s messages these past few days. The bombardment was relentless. I had 99+ unread messages. I opened them, reading one by one. Reading that last one, I knew he was panicking. So, Ethan Cross, you can feel pain after all. Don’t worry. The real pain is just beginning. 5 Before I could finish reading, his calls started coming, one after another. I didn’t answer. Instead, I texted back. He clearly didn’t believe me. His insecurity was a bottomless pit. My finger trembled over the screen. After a moment’s silence, I replied: His tone immediately brightened. We had planned to meet after graduation. Now, he couldn’t wait. Perhaps he sensed it. He was losing me. I could hear the fear and desperation in his words. A strange pang of sourness hit my chest. I had steeled myself to hurt him, but for a split second, I wavered. I asked him: He answered without hesitation. As if the person who bullied and brutalized others didn’t exist. He truly had two faces. I texted. I’m giving you a chance, Ethan Cross. Don’t let me down. … Tiffany’s campaign against me wasn’t over. To force my apology, she took the fight public. She posted about the purse incident on the school’s online forum, instantly casting herself as the victim. She played the part beautifully, claiming all she ever wanted was a simple apology. She moralized from her high horse, accusing me of being a poor girl who coveted luxury goods she couldn’t afford. She said my vanity was a burden on my family, that I was selfish and ungrateful… Her performance of a “kind and righteous” victim won everyone over. The forum exploded with comments tearing me apart. “If you’re broke, don’t cause trouble!” “This is a classic ‘if I can’t have it, I’ll destroy it’ move! That Ava girl is disgusting!” “Yeah, kick the bitch out of our school!” “I heard Tiffany’s boyfriend, Ethan Cross, beat her up a few days ago.” “Good. I’d take a beating to get out of a twenty-thousand-dollar debt!” “Ava MUST apologize!” Under the post with the most furious demands for my head, I uploaded the video. The clip clearly showed Tiffany tripping, scraping her own bag, and then turning to blame me. The comments section went dead silent. I had planned to release the video today anyway. Tiffany’s post just gave me the perfect stage for a dramatic reveal. After posting it, I went to school with my head held high. 6 A number of students came up to me, offering comfort and apologies. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I didn’t know the whole story and I said some awful things about you online. I can’t believe she framed you.” On the forum, the tide had turned completely. The righteous anger was now directed at Tiffany. The good people, it turned out, were in the majority. Tiffany became a pariah, condemned by almost everyone. Her reputation was in tatters. I knew she wouldn’t let it go. The only question was, would Ethan help her this time? He had promised me he would be a good and decent person. He had promised me he wouldn’t do bad things anymore. I wasn’t sure he could keep that promise. When Ethan and his crew cornered me in the alley again, I got my answer. Tiffany stood beside him, pointing and screaming at me. “You’re fucking dead, Ava! You dared to set me up!” “You little bitch, I’m going to kill you today!” I ignored her histrionics and fixed my gaze on Ethan. “Ethan, you saw the video online. You know I’m innocent.” I had to be sure he knew, that he wasn’t just being manipulated by Tiffany. I had even used an anonymous account to make sure the video appeared in his social media feed. He didn’t look at me. He flicked his cigarette to the ground, his voice bored. “So what if I saw it? All I know is you didn’t do what I told you to do.” The cold words were like daggers, sinking deep into my heart. I laughed, a bitter, broken sound that almost turned into a sob. I shouldn’t have had any hope for him. Ethan Cross was never the sun-drenched boy by the bookshelf. He was always this dark, selfish, cold-blooded creature. How could I have forgotten? He had told me he was changing for the better. It was just another beautiful lie. How could I have been so stupid as to believe it? “Are you really going to ask Ethan for help, Ava? You must be dreaming!” Tiffany shrieked. “Ethan, teach this bitch a lesson she’ll never forget!” Someone shoved me from behind, and I fell to the hard pavement. The kicks and punches started again. It hurt, but I was prepared. I had two burner phones in my pockets, both recording audio and video, set to automatically upload. They cursed as they hit me. But this time, I realized with a jolt of terror, they were aiming for my hands. “These are your drawing hands, right? What a shame.” “Even if you got into art school, your family couldn’t afford it. Let us do you a favor and get rid of the problem for you, hahaha!” No! Art was my dream! My only dream! True panic seized me. I started screaming his name, begging. “Ethan, let me go! Please, just let me go!” Ethan turned his head. He looked at me. His eyes were filled with the same disgust you’d reserve for garbage on the street. “Ah!” In a flash of blinding pain, someone stomped on my right hand. The agony was electric, shooting up my arm. I thought I would pass out. “Ethan… Ryan…” My vision swam. My voice was a weak whisper. “You promised me… you were trying to be better… to be the person I wanted you to be…” “You promised… you wouldn’t do…” I didn’t finish. I saw Ethan’s face contort, his expression shattering into pure horror. He let out a strangled, broken roar. “EVERYONE, FUCKING STOP!”

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The day Kian Richmond was welcomed back by his birth family, my mother took a Greyhound overnight to see him. When Mrs. Richmond offered to thank us for raising him, Mom, terrified of the gesture, only took a single crystal glass from a side table. As we were leaving, I overheard Mrs. Richmond speaking to her housekeeper. “It makes my blood boil, thinking of my son going hungry, living in some leaky tenement. “People like that belong in the gutter, picking through trash.” With my eyes burning, I found Kian to return the glass, but he just shrugged, a picture of indifference. “Keep it,” he said, his voice cool. “Even if it’s just one of my mother’s old mouthwash cups, it’s worth more than you’ve ever seen.” I said nothing. When we got home, I packed a bag, and we disappeared. Years later, I heard a story. That the heir to the Richmond fortune spent five years searching for a poor family, holding a single crystal glass like a prayer. 1 It had been three months since Kian had returned to the Richmond family, and he hadn’t contacted us once. Mom, sick with worry, dragged me onto a bus that smelled of stale air and desperation. After a day and a night of rattling highways, we arrived at the Richmond estate. The sunset bled across the sky, setting the sprawling stone manor ablaze with golden light. When a uniformed maid opened the massive oak door, her eyes swept over us, cataloging our worn jeans and my mother’s faded coat in a single, dismissive glance. I clutched the frayed hem of my shirt, my knuckles white, and looked away. Eleanor Richmond, Kian’s mother, swept out to greet us. She was a woman sculpted from grace and money, with a laugh like the tinkling of a crystal wind chime. “We owe you such a debt of gratitude for taking care of Kian all these years,” she said, her smile perfectly polished. “I’ve been meaning to call, but things have just been a whirlwind.” My mother managed a tight smile, her own voice strained as she tried to match the pleasantry. But her eyes kept darting toward the grand staircase, searching. I knew that look. She missed Kian with an ache that thirteen years of love had carved into her soul. It wasn’t something she could just let go of. “You’re busy, Mrs. Richmond, we understand. I just wanted to see him for a minute, just to know he’s…” Eleanor stopped and graced her with another radiant smile. “I had the staff notify him you were here. Dinner is almost ready. You must stay.” Seated at a long, white marble table, I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. Mom squeezed my hand under the table and, from her worn, floral-print purse, discreetly passed me a crushed dinner roll she’d saved from the bus station. A passing maid shot us a curious look before hurrying away. I quickly tucked the roll into my pocket, my cheeks burning with shame. It was a long time before Kian came downstairs. The moment he appeared, Mom was on her feet, rushing to him. “You’ve lost weight.” Her hand hovered near his cheek. “Why haven’t you called? Are you warm enough in just that?” Kian finally lifted his eyes from his phone, a flicker of annoyance in them. He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. “There’s central air, Mom. And I’ve been busy. I’m training at the company.” The word “Mom” sounded foreign, clinical. She flinched, her hand dropping to her side. She nodded silently and returned to her seat. I stared at the boy sitting across from me, a stranger in a designer shirt. A ghost of memory flickered—my mom taking me to visit a distant relative in a town hollowed out by poverty. Kids my age roamed the streets, fighting over scraps of food like feral dogs. We found Kian in an alleyway, his clothes torn, his eyes vacant. He’d been cornered by a group of older boys. Mom chased them off, then gently cleaned his cuts, wrapped him in her own coat, and gave him the apple she’d been saving for me. As we were about to leave, he grabbed the sleeve of her coat. His small arm was a canvas of purple bruises. My mother’s eyes welled with tears. “As long as I’m alive,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “you’ll have a place to eat.” And just like that, the three of us—me, my mom, and Kian—became a family. 2 The maids filled the table with a dazzling array of dishes—roasted chicken, glistening fish, platters of things I couldn’t even name. Eleanor Richmond took her seat at the head of the table, her smile unwavering. “Please, eat. I hope you find something to your liking. I’m still trying to figure out Kian’s tastes. What did you usually cook for him?” Mom’s face softened with the memory. “Oh, he’s never been picky. Sautéed potatoes, peppers, green beans… he’ll eat anything you put in front of him.” Eleanor paused, her fork hovering over a slice of duck. “And what about his favorite splurges? A good steak, perhaps?” “He… he was never much of a meat-eater, really.” The lie was so thin it was transparent. Mom’s health was fragile, and just keeping two growing kids fed and in school was a constant struggle. Meat was a luxury we couldn’t afford. Eleanor’s smile didn’t falter, but it lost its warmth. “Is it that he doesn’t like it,” she murmured, her voice laced with honeyed poison, “or that he couldn’t have it?” The question hung in the air, thick and suffocating. The silence was deafening. I instinctively looked at Kian, but he was absorbed in his phone, his thumb scrolling endlessly. I tried to break the tension. “He loves scrambled eggs,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Mom makes the best.” Before the words had even settled, Kian let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah,” he said, not looking up. “It was the closest we ever got to surf and turf.” A memory stabbed at me. Our neighbor’s hen would occasionally leave an egg on our porch, and Mom would always scramble it with fresh green beans from our tiny garden, dividing it into two small, precious portions. I remembered sitting across from Kian, fighting over the last bite in his bowl. I’d pouted, half-joking. “I’m never going to grow if you keep eating my eggs!” Back then, he had laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a tenderness that made my heart ache now to remember. “Okay, okay, you can have mine too,” he’d said, pushing his bowl toward me. “Our Chloe needs to eat up. You’ve got to grow taller than me.” I dropped my gaze to my lap, a cold wave of confusion washing over me. Three months. How could three months turn someone you loved into a complete stranger? I couldn’t tell if his words were a cruel joke or his new, bitter truth. Mom placed her fork down and pushed her chair back, pulling me up with her. “We won’t trouble you any longer, Mrs. Richmond. It’s time we were going.” As we stood, the icy mask on Eleanor’s face suddenly shattered into a performance of warm concern. “Oh, don’t be silly! Kian is just teasing. Please, don’t take him seriously. You’ve done so much for him. I insist you take something as a token of our appreciation. Anything in the house, please, choose whatever you like.” The villa was a museum of wealth. priceless art, jade statues, rare orchids in porcelain vases. Any single object could have sustained us for a lifetime. My mother frantically waved her hands, refusing, but the maids had already moved to flank us, blocking our path to the door. Trapped, Mom’s eyes darted around, panicked. Finally, she let me guide her into a quiet, dark side room. On a small vanity table, next to a silver-backed mirror, sat a simple crystal glass. She picked it up, her hands trembling. “This,” she whispered. “This will be fine.” From the hallway, I heard a maid stifle a laugh. “What is it?” Mom asked, her voice shaking. “Is it too valuable…?” A clap of thunder rattled the windows, and the sky opened up in a sudden downpour. Eleanor glided over, patting my mother’s hand with practiced sympathy. “It’s nothing, dear. The rain is much too heavy for you to travel. You’ll stay the night.” 3 The long bus ride had left me exhausted, and Mom was already asleep, her face etched with weariness in the dim lamplight. I’d had too much of the fancy bottled water they’d served and slipped out of the guest room to find a bathroom. As I crept down the silent, carpeted hallway, I heard voices from behind a partially closed door. It was Eleanor. “…and right here on my shoulders. God, it’s just disgraceful. Can you imagine the life my son has lived? He never even had a decent meal.” “You were finally able to bring the young master home, ma’am. That’s what matters. It was too generous of you to offer them a gift.” “Oh, I have a soft spot, I suppose. They did look after him for years. But it makes my blood boil, thinking of him going hungry, living in some leaky tenement. People like that,” her voice dripped with contempt, “belong in the gutter, picking through trash in a bathroom.” “Indeed, ma’am. That’s why I made sure to guide them in that direction earlier.” “You always know what to do, Maria. You’re a treasure.” I froze, my blood turning to ice. A different maid rounded the corner and saw me standing there. “Are you looking for something, miss?” It took a few seconds for my voice to work. I forced a smile that felt like cracking glass. “Yes, could you tell me where the restroom is?” She led me down a small hallway, to the very room where Mom had picked out the crystal glass. My heart sank into a black, bottomless pit. It was a guest bathroom. I remembered how the maids had surrounded us, leaving only one narrow path open. A path that led directly here. The humiliation washed over me, hot and suffocating. I stumbled back to our room, tears blurring my vision, and pulled the carefully wrapped glass from Mom’s purse. Through the window, the garden was illuminated by soft landscape lighting. And there, on the wet lawn, was Kian, jogging in place. A sleek Doberman stood at his side, watching him with rapt attention. I ran downstairs. As I reached the patio, Kian pointed to a distant patch of bushes and whistled sharply. “Go get it, Seven!” The dog shot off, disappearing into the dark foliage and returning a moment later with a small object in its mouth. Kian took it, patted the dog’s head, and then, with a flick of his wrist, tossed it again. This time, it landed in the middle of the ornate fountain with a soft splash. And this time, I saw what it was. A small, hand-stitched rag doll. Kian sighed in frustration and turned. His eyes met mine. My entire body started to shake, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. The thing he had just thrown away like garbage was the 18th birthday present I had made for him.

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