At eighteen, Asher Vance shielded me with his body, letting a group of thugs beat him until he was bloodied and half-dead. Lying on a stretcher, someone asked him if he regretted it. He was barely conscious, but he laughed, wild and unrestrained. “Regret it? What’s a couple of broken legs?” “I’ve got a wife now, don’t I?” At twenty-eight, I slid the wedding ring from my finger and placed it on the table, along with the pink hair tie I’d found in his pocket. He picked up the hair tie, the one the little girl had used to taunt me. Leaning against the wall, he watched me with a smirk. “Joanna, sweetheart. You don’t really think this little drama is going to change my mind, do you?” 1 I didn’t answer, just kept packing my things. The hair tie was a soft, bubblegum pink, the kind that would perfectly suit a young, vibrant girl. Asher slipped it onto his own wrist with a soft click of his tongue. He smiled, as if the simple object conjured a sweet memory, the curve of his lips softening. The old me would have been screaming by now. A hysterical, raging mess, demanding to know if he was thinking about that little tramp again. But now, I just pushed the wedding ring closer to him. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said, my voice perfectly calm. Asher didn’t respond. He just maintained that casual, indifferent posture, though his smile was now laced with contempt. I knew he didn’t believe me. Because I had said those two words countless times over the past few years. The first few times, he had panicked, just as I’d wanted. He’d sworn to me with tears in his eyes, promising it would never happen again. He’d used every trick in the book, begging me not to leave. Until the time the girl he was keeping got a high fever. I was on the verge of a complete breakdown. I told him if he went to her, we were done. It was my birthday. Asher didn’t come home. When the girl sent a video to my phone—a calculated, taunting clip of them in bed—I actually thought about ending it all. I stood by the open window, the wind chilling me to the bone. In the end, I turned back, collapsing onto the floor in a heap of pathetic, ugly sobs. When Asher finally came home, he crouched in front of me, his smile dripping with scorn. “Sweetheart, I thought we were getting a divorce?” he’d purred. “So why are you still here, waiting for me like a good little dog?” 2 “Asher, this time it’s for real.” I finished packing the last of my things and took a deep breath. He was starting to look annoyed. But just then, his phone rang, playing a melody that could only belong to a teenage girl. Asher straightened up, his features softening the moment he answered. He shot me a triumphant smirk and began to flirt, completely ignoring my presence. “What is it now, my little princess?” “Hmph, you have to ask? It’s Valentine’s Day!” “All the other girls have their boyfriends with them, and mine is stuck with some old hag.” The girl’s voice was young, vibrant, and undeniably sweet. Asher melted under her pouting. “Alright, alright. I’m on my way.” He hung up, the affectionate look still lingering in his eyes as he turned to me. But the words that came out of his mouth were ice cold. “Joanna, you’re not hitting menopause early, are you? What’s with all the drama?” I watched his retreating back and let out a soft sigh. I had loved him too desperately for too long. Now that I truly wanted to leave, no one would ever believe me. 3 After Asher left, a notification popped up on my phone from a contact named “Lily.” [Aunty, didn’t I tell you Asher would spend Valentine’s Day with me?] [Hehe. Looks like I was right.] Her provocations were childish, but they were effective. In the past, they would have sent me into a blind rage. But I knew exactly where her confidence came from. When Asher first started cheating, he wasn’t this brazen. He hid Lily’s texts, soothed me, begged me, and promised he would end it. I was in agony, unable to believe that the boy who had loved me so fiercely could be the one driving a knife into my heart. Like so many betrayed wives, I did all the cliché things. I stormed into his office, screaming about his infidelity in front of his entire staff. I tried to find the woman who was destroying my life, to make her suffer. But Asher had built a fortress around Lily. Until the day Lily, too impatient to wait, came to find me herself. I didn’t even have a chance to fight back. She slapped down a stack of photos—intimate, graphic pictures of her and Asher in bed—and my world shattered. “Aunty, Asher said it was love at first sight with me, but he told me he doesn’t date high schoolers.” “So he waited until I graduated to make me his. And right after, he took me on a trip to Europe to celebrate.” “Yeah, that’s right. It was while you were back home, dealing with your father’s funeral.” “See? That’s how much he loves me.” Lily stood there, her ponytail bouncing, smugly recounting Asher’s devotion. I lost my mind. I grabbed a glass and threw it at her. Then I picked up a shard and raked it across her face, wanting to destroy her perfect, mocking smile. Asher arrived in a flurry, pulling a sobbing Lily into his arms. He looked at me, his voice colder than I had ever heard it. “Joanna, I’ve let you get away with too much over the years.” “So much that you actually thought you had the right to touch what’s mine.” 4 After that day, Asher stopped hiding Lily. He brought her to company events, to dinners with friends, showing her off, their affection on full display for the world to see. He turned me into a joke. No matter how much I screamed or cried, he remained a detached, indifferent spectator to my pain. During that time, I felt like a zombie, a walking corpse. My nerves were constantly frayed. I was a madwoman. When did I finally decide to give up on him? It was probably the day my mother was in the hospital for a major surgery. I was exhausted, running back and forth, and eventually collapsed from the strain. That night, Asher brazenly threw a party at our house, bringing Lily and all their friends. I dragged my weak, sick body downstairs and heard one of Asher’s friends talking about our past. “Man, Ash used to be so in love with Joanna.” “He was a hell of a soccer player back then. Even got scouted by the national team. The guy had a golden future.” “And then he threw it all away to protect her from those thugs, got both his legs broken. He’s never been the same since.” Lily, overhearing this, pouted and demanded to know the details, refusing to believe Asher had ever been so devoted to me. Her displeasure soured Asher’s mood immediately. Another friend laughed, a sleazy edge to his voice. “It was simple, really. A bunch of guys cornered Joanna.” “They were dragging her into a bar, planning to… you know. By the time Ash got there, they’d already ripped her clothes off, groped her all over.” “She was a wreck. Crying her eyes out.” Lily covered her mouth, but a giggle escaped. She snuggled into Asher’s arms, her voice dripping with malicious glee. “If that were me, I’d have killed myself after being touched by all those disgusting men.” “Besides, flies are only drawn to rotting meat. Who knows, maybe she was asking for it?” “Sounds like she got what she deserved.” But as the words left her mouth, Asher’s face went cold. “Shut up,” he commanded. Lily stared at him in disbelief, her eyes welling with tears. She started sobbing, saying she wanted to go home. “I was just saying I feel bad for you! You got your legs broken for her, and this is how you treat me?” Asher couldn’t stand to see her cry. He immediately started trying to soothe her. Lily stubbornly wiped her tears away, refusing to be placated. She tugged on his tie, her voice thick with anger. “Then say it. Say you regret it. Say that if you could do it all over again, you wouldn’t save that old hag. You’d let her rot!” Asher sighed, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I wouldn’t save her. Fine.” In that moment, it felt like my sick, broken body finally dissolved into nothing. My heart seized with a suffocating, absolute despair. And in that moment, I finally woke up. I realized that Asher was no longer the boy who had loved me. I had to let him go. For his sake, and for mine. So I gave myself one week to learn how to let go. Today was the final day. 5 The past was the past. I took one last, long look around our home. My gaze moved from the wild, carefree smile of the man in our wedding photo to the worn, tarnished ring on the coffee table. Asher had only taken Lily’s hair tie. He hadn’t even glanced at the ring. He must have forgotten that he had placed that ring on my finger himself, right after we graduated high school. His legs hadn’t even fully healed yet, but he had limped to a construction site every day for two months, earning exactly ten thousand, three hundred dollars. Ten thousand for the ring. Three hundred for a bouquet of flowers. He had promised me, his voice thick with guilt, that he would buy me a better one someday, when he had more money. The evening breeze was cool that night as the boy knelt on one knee, his handsome face lit by a smile that would become the cage I lived in for half my life. Later, he became successful. His company went public. He bought Lily a ring worth over a hundred thousand dollars, but he never mentioned getting me a new one. I took a deep breath, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out the door. Then I called my lawyer. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in about half an hour.” I had contacted the lawyer—an old classmate—a week ago. We sat in a coffee shop, going over the details of the divorce agreement. My name was on some of Asher’s company shares, and all of that had to be settled. The agreement was fair. I couldn’t see any reason for Asher to refuse. “This looks good,” I said, looking up at the man in the impeccably tailored suit. “Thank you.” He gave me a polite, professional smile. As he was leaving, he handed me a coat from the back of his chair. “It’s windy out,” he said. “Be careful on your way.” 6 Asher wasn’t at the office. I had a pretty good idea where he would be. Arriving at Lily’s university, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. But the sight of her snapped me back to reality. Asher had spoiled her. She was draped in luxury brands from head to toe, surrounded by a gaggle of fawning admirers. She carried herself with an air of arrogant entitlement. A stark contrast to my own college days, when I had scrimped and saved every penny to help Asher fund his startup. When Lily saw me, she frowned. “Ugh, what a buzzkill.” Her friends started whispering, asking who I was. I ignored them and spoke to her directly, my voice cold. “Get Asher. I need to talk to him.” But as I said this, one of Lily’s friends stepped forward and shoved me, hard. I was wearing heels and stumbled backward, my lower back slamming into the metal pole of a basketball hoop. A sharp, radiating pain shot through me. The girls surrounded me, acting like a pack of righteous vigilantes. “Shameless old hag. Are you really trying to steal a college student’s boyfriend?” “Aunty, are you that desperate for a man? Following him all the way to a university?” “Lily and her boyfriend are in love. Stop trying to be a homewrecker.” Lily stood behind them, a smug look on her face. I bit my lip, then I slapped the girl who had pushed me, hard across the face. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she started to curse at me. I didn’t give her the chance. I pulled out the marriage certificate I had brought with me. “Lily, every single thing Asher has given you over the past two years… I’m entitled to half of it. That’s my legal right as his wife.” “I hope you can afford to pay it back.”

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Three months before my wedding, the world came crashing down. My fiancé, Mike, posted a picture on his Instagram. It wasn’t of us. It was his marriage certificate, side-by-side with a photo of my stepsister, Della, cradling her pregnant belly. His caption read: Legally welcoming our little one into the world. Della commented with a single shy-face emoji. My own mother liked the post. Then she commented, I’ll watch the baby for you. You two just enjoy your time together. I couldn’t help myself. I typed a single question mark. A second later, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Mike. His voice, once a comfort, was a torrent of accusations. “She’s just ‘borrowing’ me for a year, Clara! The baby will be born, and then I’m all yours again.” “Don’t be so petty,” he continued, his tone sharp. “My mom agrees. She always said you should have a son before we make it official anyway. This works out perfectly. We have the wedding first, and you get your certificate later. It’s fine.” A cold numbness spread through me. “Okay,” I whispered, then hung up. I methodically went through my social media, deleting every trace of him, every happy memory now tainted. Then, I posted something new. Need a groom. Any takers? 1 Mike was the first to reply. Mike: Are you out of your goddamn mind, Clara? I marry her for a technicality, and you pull this stunt? Did you really think a pathetic post like this would make me jealous? That’s hilarious. I’m warning you, stop making trouble, and leave Della out of it. Della’s comment appeared right below his. Della: Sis, Mike just wants our baby to have a proper name. I’m not trying to steal him. When you and he get married, my child can even call you Mom. Then came my mother. Mom: You’re being so ungrateful. You get a child without the pain of childbirth, and Della is making it happen for you. The least you could do is thank her. A flood of comments from Mike’s buddies followed, each one a jab to the ribs. You and Della are sisters, right? Doesn’t matter who Mike marries, it’s all in the family! How about Della gets him Mon-Weds-Fri, and you get Tues-Thurs-Sat? They all thought it was a riot, their laughing emojis mocking my pain. I stared at the screen for a long time, a bitter, acidic feeling rising in my throat until it stung my eyes. Tears I couldn’t hold back began to fall, splattering onto my phone. They were the ones in the wrong. And yet, here they were, shamelessly blaming me. How pathetic. These people weren’t worth a single one of my tears. I wiped my eyes fiercely. Amidst the chaos of the comment section, one stood out, a calm island in a sea of insanity. It was from Liam. Can I be your groom? Liam and I grew up together. After college, I’d stayed in the city while he went abroad for his master’s. The day I started dating Mike, Liam had respectfully distanced himself. It had been years since we’d really talked. As I was still processing his comment, my phone rang. It was him. “Clara,” his voice was steady, warm. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “You know I’ve never liked your stepsister, so there will be no drama there. I don’t have a messy circle of friends, and I’ve spent the last few years building my career. There are no ex-girlfriends in the picture.” A notification popped up on my screen. A legal document. I opened it. It was a contract, transferring all his assets and company shares into my name. My breath hitched. “Clara,” he said, and for the first time, I heard a tremor of vulnerability in his voice. “This is my entire commitment. It’s all I have to offer. Will you give me a chance?” A familiar ache settled in my chest. I remembered us as kids. Our teacher had given him two pieces of his favorite candy as a reward. He had looked at them, his mouth watering, but he hadn’t eaten a single one. He’d saved both for me. He had always given me everything. My voice was thick with emotion. “Yes.” Love had proven to be a ghost, a phantom I’d chased only to be left wounded and bleeding. I had been ready to give up, to accept that I would be alone. But my grandmother’s dying wish was to see me married, to know there was someone in the world who would have my back. Mike was not that man. But Liam… if my groom was Liam, I knew my grandmother would rest easy. His voice bloomed with pure joy. “I’ll wrap things up here. I’ll be back to marry you in two weeks.” He paused, his tone turning almost pleading. “Clara, you’ll wait for me, won’t you? You won’t change your mind?” That hint of childlike vulnerability reminded me of the time I’d promised to be his bride when we grew up. “I will,” I promised, a sudden urge to cry washing over me—not from sadness, but from a profound sense of relief. “Liam,” I whispered, “pinky swear.” 2 After the call, my bedroom door swung open. It was my mother. “Where is that sapphire necklace your father left you?” I remained silent. Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “What’s with the attitude? Your sister thinks it’s pretty and wants to wear it for a few days. Just get it. Don’t be so childish!” Della clung to our mother’s arm, her face a mask of disappointment. “It’s okay, Mom. I know she’s never really seen me as a sister. If she doesn’t want to, I won’t force her.” “She wouldn’t dare!” my mother snapped, turning her glare on me. “That necklace belonged to my husband—your father. As of today, it’s yours, Della.” She looked back at me, her voice hard as steel. “If you don’t hand it over, don’t blame me for having your room searched.” I stared at her, a bitter smile twisting my lips. It felt more like a grimace. The gentle, loving mother from my memories had vanished, replaced by this harsh, scolding stranger. But it didn’t matter anymore. I was leaving this place for good. There was no point in another meaningless fight. Wordlessly, I retrieved the velvet box, opened it, and handed her the necklace. A satisfied smile spread across her face. “That’s my girl. Della is your little sister. You should always give her the best of everything.” After Mom left, Della fastened the sapphire clasp around her neck, admiring her reflection in my vanity mirror. “Don’t blame Mom for favoring me, sis. Honestly, this necklace looks much better on me anyway.” She smirked. “Just like Mike looks better as my boyfriend.” Her eyes met mine in the reflection. “Some things are just meant to be mine. No one else can ever have them.” I said nothing, watching her pathetic victory dance. With people like her, any reaction was fuel for the fire. Indifference was the only weapon. I grabbed my purse, walked past her as if she were thin air, and headed for the stairs. “Ah! Sis, why did you push me—” Della suddenly lurched in front of me, feigning a push and stumbling backward toward the top of the staircase. As much as I loathed her, my instincts kicked in. I reached out to grab her arm. It was a twenty-step drop; this was no joke. “Clara, you venomous bitch!” A hand slapped mine away from Della’s arm with brutal force. My hand slammed against the wooden banister with a sickening crack. A wave of white-hot pain shot up my arm, and I broke out in a cold sweat. “Mike, you came just in time! I was so scared, I…” Della sobbed, burying herself in Mike’s arms, her face a mess of tears and fabricated terror. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now,” Mike murmured, stroking her hair. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” I looked down at my hand, already swelling and turning a bruised, angry purple. Then I looked at Della, who hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch, being held and comforted as if she were made of glass. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. The boy who had once promised to cherish me forever, the man I was supposed to marry in three short months… how had his heart turned so cold, so fast? 3 Once Della was calm, Mike’s gaze, dark and menacing, fell on me. “I know you’re upset that I married her and we’re having a baby behind your back. You can take it out on me, I get it. I should have told you.” He took a step closer. “But you do not get to hurt Della. Her health is fragile. She’s been through enough.” His voice rose with indignation. “All she did was ask me for a chance to be a mother. Is that so wrong? Why should she have to suffer your anger?” He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You are going to apologize to her. Right now.” My whole body trembled with a rage I could barely contain. “And what did I do wrong?” I hissed. “Tell me, Mike, what exactly did I do wrong?” He stared into my blazing eyes and faltered for a second. “It’s okay, Mike, really,” Della sniffled from the safety of his arms. “Even though I almost fell to my death… I don’t blame my sister. I don’t need an apology.” She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “You and Clara still have to get married. I don’t want you fighting because of me.” Mike sighed, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Della, you’re too good. It’s heartbreaking sometimes.” He turned back to me, his eyes cold again. “You’re just jealous of her. You can’t stand to see her happy.” He paused. “Fine. Della is speaking up for you, so if you don’t want to apologize, you don’t have to. But if you ever try to hurt her again, I swear, I won’t be so lenient.” He scooped Della into his arms and, just before leaving, shot me one last look of utter disappointment. “You can’t even compare to your sister.” The silence of the living room pressed in on me. I watched the dead leaves drift past the window, then sank to the floor, buried my face in my hands, and finally let myself sob. One last time. This was the last time I would ever cry for Mike. That afternoon, he posted again. A nine-photo grid of our future home, the one we had picked out together. Each picture showed a different corner, a different room. The caption read: Every room, every piece of furniture, every little detail, all chosen with love to give my baby a warm and happy home. The comments poured in. Congrats, Mike! A baby on the way! So you and Clara are having a baby! Wonderful news! Clara is so lucky to have a husband like you! I’m so jealous! I wouldn’t miss your wedding in three months for a billion-dollar deal! As the congratulations flowed, Della dropped a bomb in the comments. Oh, everyone, don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t Mike’s marital home. It’s my house. An awkward silence fell over the comment section. I was the one to break it. Three’s a crowd. I’m out. Wishing you two happiness. Then, without a second thought, I blocked both of them. My phone rang almost immediately. It was Mike. “Clara, have you lost your mind?” “I’m perfectly sane,” I said, my voice flat. “That comment you left—you’re deliberately trying to make Della look bad,” he seethed. “You just had to paint her as a homewrecker, didn’t you? Is that what makes you happy? Keep slandering her, and this wedding is off!” His cruel words washed over me, but I felt nothing. The part of me that cared was already dead. “Mike,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “What on earth makes you think I’d still want your sloppy seconds?” 4 I hung up. The phrase “sloppy seconds” must have struck a nerve. He called again, and again, and again. When I didn’t answer, he bombarded me with texts. I ignored them all. In ten days, I was going to marry Liam. These people were about to become ghosts from a past life. I had intended to spend my remaining time here in peace, but Della shattered that illusion when she smashed my father’s urn. His ashes spilled across the floor. She felt no remorse. Instead, she let her cat urinate on them. Then she looked at me, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Look, sis. Your dad makes great kitty litter!” In that instant, every ounce of grief and suppressed rage inside me exploded. I grabbed the baseball bat from behind the door and swung it at her with all my might. It connected with a solid thud. She shrieked, her face turning sheet-white as she scrambled away. “Clara! Have you completely lost it? How dare you hit your sister!” My mother’s voice was Della’s salvation. She scurried behind her, hiding like a frightened child. “Mom, I’m scared,” she sobbed. “She’s trying to kill me!” My mother shielded Della like a hen protecting her chick, her fury directed entirely at me. “I’ve let your bullying slide, thinking it was just petty squabbles, but this is too much!” She was my mother, yet she always stood against me, defending a girl with no blood relation to her. There was no greater sorrow. Tears blurred my vision. “She broke Dad’s urn!” I screamed, my voice raw. “That was Dad! My dad! Why? Why?” Why, after I had already yielded so much, did they have to destroy the one tangible memory I had left of him? Why did my own mother not love me? Della dropped to her knees dramatically. “Mom, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear! If Clara can’t forgive me, then… then I might as well just die!” she wailed. “Della, you stop this—” SMACK! My mother’s hand cracked across my face before I could finish my sentence. “Enough!” she shrieked. “It’s just ashes! He’s already dead. Is a pile of ash more important than a living person?” Her final words hung in the air, cold and sharp. “If you bother Della again, you can get out.”

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While other children played, I was forged into a weapon for my mother’s revenge. A scorned heiress who fled her wedding after stabbing her mob-boss groom, her love for him curdled into a bottomless hatred after he left her. My sole purpose, she said, was to reclaim her lost fortune. A prodigy with a photographic memory, I was drilled in finance, high-society etiquette, and how to charm her powerful new fiancé, Lucas Thorne. After eight years of planning, we succeeded. In a boardroom, my childish voice recited a tampered will, winning back her hundred-million-dollar inheritance. I looked to her, yearning for praise. Instead, coolly looping her arm through Lucas’s, she told the butler, “Send Lucy to boarding school.” I didn’t cry. My gaze fell to her stomach, knowing a new child would soon receive all the love I never had, while I was left to rot. 1 The butler was packing my suitcase in my room, his movements efficient and cold. “Your mother has given strict orders. You are to remain upstairs. Do not, under any circumstances, go down and ruin her engagement party with Mr. Thorne.” From the grand hall below, the gentle strains of a waltz and ripples of laughter drifted up. I pressed my face to the crack in the door, watching them, mesmerized. Beneath the glittering crystal chandeliers, my mother and Uncle Lucas were dancing. The smile on her face was a radiant, joyful thing I had never seen before. On instinct, my bare feet began to trace the steps on the wooden floor, as if I, too, had been invited to the ball. Suddenly, the door creaked open. A boy about my age peered in, his eyes wide with curiosity. “It’s way more fun downstairs! Come on!” He was strong. Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room, dragging me to the top of the grand staircase. In an instant, every head in the ballroom turned. A hundred pairs of eyes, followed by a blinding barrage of camera flashes, zeroed in on me. “Who’s that little girl with the Thorne boy?” “She looks just like Ms. Astor, doesn’t she?” The reporters, smelling a story, swarmed the base of the stairs. Microphones were thrust towards my face. “Young lady, who are you to Ms. Astor?” “Why has she been hiding you?” “There are rumors Ms. Astor has an illegitimate child. Is that you?” My mother’s face went deathly pale. Lucas’s brow furrowed into a sharp, displeased line. I froze, paralyzed by the attention. The flashbulbs were like whips lashing at my face. The reporters’ questions grew sharper, more relentless. “Ms. Astor fled her wedding ten years ago. Could this girl be the result of that affair?” “Is Mr. Thorne really raising his rival’s child?” Lucas immediately wrapped a protective arm around my mother. “Get this child out of here,” he commanded, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn’t even look at me. He just glared at the butler. “Now.” I was roughly dragged back to my room and the door slammed shut. The butler snarled, “You little monster.” He pulled a thin sewing needle from his pocket. “Just like your deadbeat mobster father. You just can’t stand to see your mother happy, can you?” He pricked my fingertip, a sharp sting of pain. I cried out, struggling, but the sight of the tiny bead of blood sent a wave of terror through me. My vision swam, and the world went black. I don’t know how long I was out. When I came to, I could hear muffled, angry voices from the next room. “If she dares to pull a stunt like that today, she’ll dare to ruin everything for me tomorrow!” my mother shrieked. “I don’t care, Lucas! I want her gone by morning. I can’t stand to have her here for one more day!” Uncle Lucas was silent. My mother’s voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “Lucas, you waited eight years for me! Eight years! Now that we’re finally together, are you going to let her destroy our happiness? Don’t you understand? Every time I look at her, I’m reminded of how I betrayed you. It’s driving me insane!” I pushed myself up, my body trembling, my fingernails digging into the wall. I prayed, begged to a god I didn’t believe in, for him to say no. A moment later, I heard Uncle Lucas sigh. 2 “If you’re sure,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “Then send her away.” I collapsed against the cold wood of the door, my heart a stone in my chest. I could hear my mother weeping softly into his shoulder. “Don’t cry,” Lucas soothed. “You know what the doctor said. A mother’s stress isn’t good for the baby.” Her sobs slowly subsided, replaced by a laugh that sounded unnervingly light. “You’re right. We’re going to have a perfect, angelic baby. Nothing like that little demon.” That last word lodged itself in my throat, a shard of glass that made it hard to breathe. “What are you doing, skulking in the dark and eavesdropping?” I spun around. My grandmother stood there, leaning on a rhino-horn cane, her eyes cold and hard. She looked like a witch from a fairy tale. Terrified, I scrambled back into my room and locked the door. The next morning, the butler broke the lock and dragged me out of bed, throwing me onto the cold marble floor of the living room. The remnants of last night’s party were still there—discarded ribbons tangled on the floor, half-empty glasses on a long table draped in purple silk. My stomach clenched with a mixture of fear and hunger. A group of adults entered the room, ignoring me completely. My grandmother pointed at me with her cane. “The car is waiting. Get your things and go.” My mother, clinging to Lucas’s arm, let her gaze sweep past me as if I were invisible. “Just looking at her,” she murmured, “makes my stomach turn.” Lucas patted her hand comfortingly. “Then don’t look. Let’s take a walk in the garden.” They turned to leave. Not one of them had spoken a single word to me. I clutched the little rag doll I had spent all night sewing, my nails digging into my palms. “Mother,” I called out, my voice barely a whisper. “I have something for you.” She stopped, an annoyed frown creasing her perfect brow. Lucas hesitated, then stepped forward and took the small doll from my hand. “It’s me,” I said softly. “So it can keep you company when I’m not here.” My mother’s expression twisted in horror. She snatched the doll from Lucas’s hand and threw it violently to the floor. She stomped on it with the pointed toe of her designer heel, grinding it into the marble, her composure completely shattered. My grandmother slammed her cane on the floor. “Are you trying to upset her on purpose?” she hissed. “She’ll have a new baby soon. She doesn’t need you anymore!” My heart felt like it was being torn in two. Tears streamed silently down my face. Still, I clung to one last, desperate hope. I looked toward the dining room. “Mother, can I have a piece of cake?” I asked. “You promised… you promised that when your plan succeeded, you’d throw me a birthday party. With singing and dancing and lots of people…” “I thought… I thought that was yesterday.” Her eyes met mine, and she flinched as if burned, turning to flee. At that exact moment, one of the estate’s guard dogs, a massive, startled wolfhound, burst into the room, snarling as it charged directly at her. Without a second thought, I threw myself in front of her. The dog’s teeth sank deep into my arm. The pain was so intense I nearly passed out. My mother stared, frozen, at my arm, at the blood pouring from the wound. Her voice trembled. “Why?” I gasped for breath against the searing pain. “Mother… I remember you’re afraid of dogs.” For a fleeting second, I saw something soften in her eyes. She even started to raise a hand toward me. “Butler! What are you standing there for?” my grandmother shrieked. “Get this girl out of here! Don’t let the sight of her upset your mother any further!” She glared at me as if I were the vicious animal that had just attacked. My mother seemed hesitant. Grandmother seized her arm. “What did you promise me?” she whispered fiercely. “If you keep this little beast around, you could lose everything you have now. Is it worth it?” It was as if a switch had been flipped. My mother looked at me, and the flicker of warmth in her eyes was instantly extinguished, freezing over into a sheet of ice. I reached out with my uninjured hand, a futile gesture towards her retreating back, desperate for a hug that would never come. The next thing I knew, Uncle Lucas was scooping me up. He carried me to the car and buckled me in, then drove away at high speed. When I woke up, I wasn’t at a hospital. I was in front of a cold, iron gate bearing a sign: SACRED HEART BOARDING SCHOOL. 3 Lucas was inside, signing paperwork with the headmaster. When he saw I was awake, his voice was gentle but distant. “They’ve given you the vaccine shots. Don’t be afraid.” “Study hard here,” he continued. “When you’re grown up, I’ll come get you. I’ll arrange a good marriage for you.” The headmaster stood beside him, his face wreathed in a sycophantic smile. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Thorne. We’ll take care of Miss Lucy as if she were our own daughter!” As soon as the car disappeared down the drive, a young teacher standing nearby scoffed. “Mr. Thorne is so handsome and kind. He and Ms. Astor are a match made in heaven.” Her gaze fell on me, dripping with contempt. “A pity, really. A sparrow will always be a sparrow.” “Dreaming of being a Thorne?” she sneered. “Pathetic.” I never had a dream like that. All I ever wanted was to be my mother’s daughter. It was as simple, and as impossible, as that. A month later, I was a legend at Sacred Heart. I aced every test, skipped grade after grade. The headmaster, giddy with excitement, called my mother to share the good news. Her voice on the other end was cold and impatient. “She was doing university-level work at eight. I sent her there for peace and quiet, not for academic reports. There’s no one here to look after her.” The headmaster’s smile froze on his face. I reached for the phone, desperate to hear her voice, but then she said, “I can’t talk, I have a prenatal appointment.” The line went dead. The headmaster put the phone down, and the warmth in his eyes vanished completely. His fat hand came to rest on my head, then began to slide slowly downward, his smile turning greasy. “A child with no mother’s love… but so smart and pretty. I hear your mother is a great beauty. You’re turning into one yourself…” I stiffened, rooted to the spot in horror. Just as his hand was about to touch the collar of my uniform, the door was kicked open with a loud bang. It was Jayce, the school’s resident troublemaker. He had a blade of grass hanging from his lips. “Hey, old man,” he said, his voice a lazy drawl. “What’s going on? You hear the sirens? I think the cops are here.” The headmaster snatched his hand back as if he’d been electrocuted, his face a mask of panic. Jayce seized the opportunity, grabbing my wrist. “She’s with me. We’re leaving.” Without another word, he pulled me out of the office and we ran. We ran all the way to the grassy hill behind the school, not stopping until our lungs burned and we collapsed onto the ground. The sun was blinding. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I started to cry, my sobs tearing through me. “My mom’s having a new baby,” I wailed. “I won’t have a mother anymore.” Jayce let out a short, bitter laugh, pillowing his head on his arms as he stared at the sky. “Is that all? Who here has a family? We’re all just castoffs.” His words were like an icicle piercing my heart, freezing me to the core. After that, my life at the school took a nosedive. Even the cafeteria ladies went out of their way to torment me, giving me a glass of mango juice and telling me it was banana. Soon after I drank it, my throat began to swell. I couldn’t breathe. An angry red rash broke out all over my skin. Jayce found me, threw me on his back, and sprinted to the infirmary. The school nurse examined me and said slowly, “The imported medicine works best, but it costs extra.” Jayce turned to me. “Got any money?” It was only then that I remembered the massive “living allowance” Uncle Lucas had provided. It had been transferred directly into the headmaster’s account. I didn’t have a single penny. Jayce swore under his breath. He yanked the gold chain from his neck and tossed it to the nurse. She weighed it in her palm before grudgingly fetching the medication. As I lay weakly on the cot, I whispered, “Jayce, I’ll pay you back someday. I promise.” He leaned against the wall, a smirk on his face. “Focus on staying alive first.” When the nurse came to give me the shot, Jayce instinctively turned away. As he did, the collar of his shirt shifted. I caught a glimpse of his neck and the top of his back—a crisscrossing map of angry, raised scars, some old and faded, some terrifyingly new. His life wasn’t any easier than mine. The nurse, tidying up, suddenly remembered something. “Oh, by the way,” she said casually, “it’s time for her rabies booster shot.” Before the words were even fully out of her mouth, Jayce exploded. He lunged across the room, grabbed the nurse by her collar, and slammed her against the wall. “What the hell did you just say?” he snarled, his eyes blazing with a fury that made her stammer and beg for mercy. “Are you telling me those people didn’t even leave her money for a damn vaccine?” After he dragged me out of the infirmary, Jayce had calmed down a little. His voice held a strange, self-mocking tone. “Scared you, huh? My family said I might have that super-male gene, you know? Said I was born bad. So they wrote me out of the inheritance and dumped me here to rot.” He said it so casually, as if he were talking about someone else. A few days later, two police officers came and took Jayce away. The headmaster followed behind them, a triumphant, ugly grin stretching from ear to ear.

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After my billionaire-family brother found me—the true heiress—I’d already been scavenging for eight years. He crushed my cardboard pile with his polished shoe as I gnawed on spoiled rice from a dumpster. “Aria has cancer,” he said flatly, hiding disgust. “I’ll bring you home after she’s gone.” I just nodded cheerfully. On his birthday, I spent my last money on his gift and flowers for Aria. Approaching the house, I heard him reassure her softly: “Flora will never know your cancer is fake. We can stall three, even five years. She can survive without me—but you can’t.” He blew out his candles and wished, “May Aria stay by my brother forever.” I walked away without entering. His wish came true—I didn’t have five years. Three days after I died, a viral video titled “Eighteen Years: A Cancer Patient’s Entire Life” spread online. 1 My brother had just given Aria a bracelet worth five million dollars. Her delighted laughter echoed from the grand villa. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb their happiness. The moment I stepped outside the gates, I couldn’t hold it back any longer. A mouthful of blood spewed from my lips, splattering across the gift in my hands. It was just a cheap watch, but the sight of it stained made my heart ache. I had spent three months collecting cardboard to afford it. I frantically tried to wipe the blood away, but my eyes caught a pile of cardboard next to a trash can, and professional habit kicked in. I had just bent down to grab it when a man holding a camera stepped in front of me, the lens practically shoved in my face. “‘Exploring the Underclass,’ episode three! What do you say, folks? Should we follow this little scrap-picker for the day?” The man was clean-cut and handsome, but something in his eyes made my skin crawl. “No, no, absolutely not!” I waved my hands frantically. He simply pulled out his phone and showed me a payment QR code. “Five hundred bucks for a day’s filming. I’ll pay you at the end.” Trash-picking could wait. Making money couldn’t. I scanned the code so fast I was afraid he’d take it back, tell me it was all a joke. The man lowered the camera for a second and sneered. “Her eyes sure light up at the sight of money.” I just grinned back at him like a fool. The truth is, money is useless to the dying. It’s for the living. And I didn’t have many days left. “My name is Kai,” he said. “I’m a vlogger who makes documentaries about the poor.” “You’re skin and bones. Must be starving. Let’s get you something to eat!” There was a calculating excitement in his voice as he dragged me towards the most expensive restaurant in the area. The gilded, opulent building would be the perfect backdrop to highlight a poor girl’s pathetic state, guaranteed to rack up clicks and controversy. Just as he’d hoped, I clutched the hem of my washed-out shirt, my voice timid. “That’s… that’s a place for rich people. I’ve never been inside.” A triumphant smirk played on Kai’s lips. He could already see the video going viral. Heh. I was lying. I came here all the time. Covered in grime, I’d scavenge through the dumpsters out back, watching my brother lead a princess-like Aria inside for dinner. Every night, the restaurant would throw out the leftovers. I’d be there waiting, squatting by the door for my “lucky feast.” Once, I hit the jackpot. I found a necklace in the scraps. It was a gift from my brother to Aria, her name engraved on the back. She’d tossed it because she thought the style was outdated. Shamelessly, I picked it up and put it on, admiring my reflection in the grimy mirror of a public restroom. I pretended… I pretended he had given it to me. I was still lost in the memory when Kai half-pushed, half-pulled me inside. The moment we sat down, his camera was back in my face. “You look so young. Why are you picking through trash? Don’t you have a family?” I held up two fingers, a strange pride in my voice. “I’ve had two families…” I paused, thinking of my brother, and raised a third finger. “No, wait. Three.” Kai raised an eyebrow, his tone mocking. “Three? Shouldn’t you be the happiest girl in the world then?” A lump formed in my throat. I started to tell him about my first family. “When I was five, I was sold by traffickers to an old, childless couple in the mountains.” Because I was a girl, I was cheap. The daughter of the city’s wealthiest man, sold for a mere thousand yuan. But in those backwoods villages where sons were prized above all else, being a girl was a sin. 2 My days were an endless cycle of herding sheep and finishing chores. They ate meat, but never shared any with me. All I got were potatoes. One for breakfast, one for lunch, half for dinner. When the hunger was unbearable, I’d beg from the other villagers. One man made me kowtow and call him grandpa before tossing me a stale bun. Another kicked me over and told me to get lost. At night, I slept in the sheep pen. In the winter, with no blanket, I’d press myself against the sheep for warmth. Through the low-set windows, the faces of the family I barely remembered would flicker in my tear-filled eyes. I tilted my head back, forcing the tears down, and put on a brave smile. “You know, whenever I thought I was going to freeze or starve to death, I would dream of my mom, my dad, and my brother,” I boasted. “They were so good to me. My parents would give me my favorite toys, and my brother would hold me in his arms and call me his ‘little treasure.’” The mocking smile on Kai’s face froze. The food arrived—all the restaurant’s signature dishes. He placed a piece of pork rib on my plate. “Let’s eat,” he said, his voice a little strained. I fought back the nausea churning in my stomach and shook my head with a hint of defiance. “I don’t eat meat.” Kai blinked, then burst out laughing. “A little beggar who’s a picky eater? You don’t eat meat?” I chuckled along with him, but tears welled up in my eyes. “At my adoptive parents’ house,” I began, “even their dog, Big Yellow, felt sorry for me. He would always leave me half of his food.” I was one step away from calling that dog my big brother. Thanks to him, I finally wasn’t starving anymore. To show my gratitude, I scrubbed his food bowl clean every single day until it shone. The first time I tasted meat was when my adoptive parents threw me a bone they had already gnawed clean. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. I chewed on it until my face was greasy. Then, my adoptive father smiled at me, his yellow teeth like gravestones. “Tastes good, doesn’t it? That’s Big Yellow. We got a good twenty pounds of meat off him.” The half-chewed piece of meat lodged in my throat. I clawed at my own neck, gagging and retching until I was spitting up bile. “After that,” I finished, pushing the plate away with a flourish, “I never touched meat again. Even when I could get it. I just… quit.” Kai stared at the pork rib, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “What happened after that?” “After that…” I rested my chin in my hand, my tone light. “That night, my adoptive father crept into the sheep pen. He started pulling at my clothes. Luckily, I was brave and clever. I grabbed a rake and cracked him over the head with it!” “He got really mad and said he was going to strangle me, but I squeezed through a hole in the wall that Big Yellow had dug before… you know. My dog brother saved me one last time.” I told the story as if it were nothing, but Kai’s eyes were turning red. He violently waved over a waiter. “Take all the meat dishes away! Bring us all vegetarian plates!” The waiter looked bewildered. Kai exploded. “What are you waiting for? Can’t you see this girl is starving?” I ate until I was full, patting my round belly with a satisfied burp. As we were leaving, I stopped the waiter. “Don’t throw those meat dishes out. Please pack them up for me.” At my words, the flicker of sympathy in Kai’s eyes instantly turned to suspicion. He aimed the camera at me, his voice dripping with contempt. “There it is. The act couldn’t last, could it? Tells a sob story about not eating meat, then turns around and asks for a doggy bag. What a little liar.” I ignored him, carefully scraping every last morsel of meat into the takeout containers. After the meal, Kai insisted on filming at my “home.” The car pulled up to a desolate garbage dump. In the center stood the burnt-out frame of a shack, patches of early winter snow still clinging to the broken roof tiles. That was my home. Just as I got out of the car, my phone rang. It was one of the students I sponsored. “Sister, I got the money. But it’s too much! Are you sure you have enough for yourself?” I puffed out my chest, my voice loud and proud. “Of course! Your sister is rich! I’m a billionaire’s daughter! I live in a huge mansion, drive a convertible, and eat gourmet food every day. Don’t you worry about me.” Kai looked around the foul-smelling dump, pinching his nose. “This trash heap… this is your ‘huge mansion’?” “It’s huge, isn’t it?” He kicked the tire of my three-wheeled cart, the one I used to haul trash. “And I suppose this is your ‘convertible’?” “Never gets stuck in traffic. Eco-friendly.” He scoffed. “And the ‘gourmet food’? I guess that part’s true. Scraps from a dumpster that not even a dog would touch!” “Waste not, want not,” I shot back. “Tch,” he muttered. “Too proud for your own good.” His condescending tone lasted until he glanced at my phone and saw the transfer history. The five hundred dollars he had just sent me… I had forwarded every last cent to that student. 3 His hand, holding the camera, faltered. He followed me into the burnt-out shack in silence. The inside was bare, but spotlessly clean. The walls were covered with donation certificates. The most prominent item was an old, yellowed certificate for “First Place in Class.” Kai squinted, adding up the amounts on the certificates. “Holy crap… you’ve donated a grand total of one hundred and five thousand, three hundred seventy-two dollars and sixty-three cents?” “Some of that was from my grandma,” I corrected him. “You have a grandmother?” he asked, surprised. “She was my second family.” When I was ten, I escaped my adoptive father’s clutches but nearly froze to death on the streets. An old woman who also collected scraps found me and took me in. She declared the day she found me to be my new birthday. I finally had a home again. Grandma sponsored a lot of students with the money she made from collecting scraps. That’s why, after a lifetime of doing it, she was still poor. But every day, she made sure I had milk and an egg. She said it would help me grow tall. I’d try to get her to eat some too, but she’d just shake her head and say she’d already eaten. Grandma was a liar. I knew she was living on cold, hard buns. So I became a liar, too. I’d pretend I had a small appetite, throw a little tantrum, and “waste” half my milk and egg in the trash can. She would always pick them out later and eat every last bit. “So what’s with the certificate?” Kai asked. “I didn’t go to school for a single day during the five years with my adoptive parents. But the day after Grandma found me, she enrolled me. She always used to say, ‘Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if our little Flora could get first place?’” I studied like my life depended on it. And on my thirteenth birthday, I did it. I got first place. I ran all the way home. When I pushed open the door, I saw a hot meal on the table and a tiny little cake. But Grandma was lying on the floor. She never woke up. The doctor said if I had brought her in just half an hour earlier, she would have been fine. “I came home at the same time every single day. That was the only day I was late… by half an hour… because I waited to get my first-place certificate.” The memory was a familiar weight, crushing my heart all over again. My name is Flora, but it feels like happiness has always been just out of my reach. “That was the only time in my life I ever got first place,” I whispered. “And she never got to see it.” “I believe that education can change your destiny. But after Grandma died, I was afraid no one would look after the students she sponsored. So I dropped out of school, took over her route, and kept picking trash to pay for their education. I just hope they can be happy one day.” “It doesn’t matter, though,” I said, waving a hand dismissively, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to comfort. “Knowledge just turned me from a happy pig into a miserable Socrates. I think I’d rather be the pig.” Kai’s hand was shaking so much he could barely hold the camera. He opened his mouth to say something, but I suddenly remembered. I wiped my tears, grabbed a stainless-steel basin, and ran outside, banging it like a gong. “Dinner time!” From all corners of the dump, stray cats and dogs appeared, rubbing against my legs affectionately. I carefully divided the meat dishes I’d brought back into a dozen broken bowls and watched them devour the food. “Don’t fight, there’s enough for everyone.” Kai stared at me, dumbfounded. “You packed up the food… for them?” “Yep. This is my crew,” I said, beaming with pride. His face turned beet red. He fumbled for his phone. “I’m so sorry, I…” “I’m sending you another five thousand!” he blurted out, then quickly spoke to his camera. “And this isn’t for show, I swear.” My eyes lit up at the transfer notification. I started counting on my fingers. “Okay, so that means I have to film with you for ten more days.” Ten days. I should… I should still be alive for ten more days. “What about your third family?” Kai’s tone had become gentle, almost cautious. I looked up at the sky, trying to remember. “I guess they were really my first family. I was born to the wealthiest man in the city. But when I was five, my brother was being dragged away by a kidnapper. I tried to save him, and they threw me in the van instead.” Kai’s jaw dropped. “You were kidnapped because you were trying to save your brother?!” 4 He whipped out his phone and started typing furiously, quickly pulling up news articles about the city’s richest family. “The Sterling family, city’s wealthiest tycoon… your parents passed away a few years after you went missing. They said it was from heartbreak.” “But then your brother… he must have been looking for you this whole time. After all…” His voice trailed off as he came across an article about Aria. “Six years ago, your brother, Jared Sterling, adopted a girl. He named her Aria and treats her as if she were his own flesh and blood…” His voice got quieter and quieter. I gave him a sad smile. “Funny, isn’t it? My real brother found me, and he still didn’t want me.” “Then why didn’t you go find him?!” Kai yelled. I just smiled, a tear tracing a path through the grime on my cheek. “I was too scared.” Besides, I was out of time. Kai was furious. He grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward the road, determined to confront my brother. He was so enraged he forgot his camera, his hand just gripping mine tightly. For a dizzying moment, the warmth of his hand felt just like my brother’s, from a lifetime ago. As we stood before the opulent gates of the Sterling mansion, a ridiculous sliver of hope bloomed in my chest. Would he let me stay? The butler led us inside. As we approached the study, we heard Aria’s voice, whining and tearful. “But what if Flora throws a fit and demands to come back? Will you get rid of me then, brother?” Jared’s voice was warm, laced with a smile. “I’ve raised you for six years. Don’t you know me by now? I would get rid of Flora before I ever got rid of you.” “You bastard, Jared!” Kai roared, kicking the door open. The air in the room froze. Jared didn’t even bother to look up, his voice dangerously calm. “Kai, isn’t it? I’ve looked into you. A minor influencer who fakes everything for clicks. What is it you want?” Kai lunged forward, but I held him back. “The whole house is full of bodyguards. You’ll get hurt.” He gritted his teeth, pointing a shaking finger at my brother. “I might have faked things for money, but there are some lines I won’t cross. But you? You’re loaded, yet you let your own sister eat out of trash cans on the street! You’re worse than an animal!” Jared let out a cold laugh, his gaze landing on me like a shard of ice. “Is it money you want?” Before I could say no, Aria rushed forward and yanked at the necklace around my neck. “Isn’t this mine? It even has my name on it! You stole from me!” I clutched it desperately. “No, I found it!” Terrified that Jared would find out she’d thrown it away, she doubled down, screeching that I was a thief, clawing at my hands. In the struggle, my nail accidentally scratched the back of her hand. SLAP! Jared was on me in an instant, his hand connecting with my cheek in a brutal slap. “So this is what happens when you’re not raised right. No manners at all. You steal, and you think you’re justified?” I just stood there, stunned. The burning pain on my face spread straight to my heart. Kai screamed in rage and tried to throw a punch, but two bodyguards slammed him to the floor. Jared pulled out a thick wad of cash and threw it at my face. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Here, take it!” he snarled. “I told you I’d take you in after Aria was gone. Did you have to disgust us like this?” The bills fluttered down around me. A sudden, coppery taste filled my mouth. A mouthful of blood sprayed from my lips, splattering across the scattered bills in a sickeningly bright red. Oh. Maybe I don’t even have ten days left.

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My brand-new projector screen was being targeted daily by the kid from the apartment upstairs, using a laser pointer. When I went up to talk to his dad about it, he just shrugged. “He’s just a kid playing. How much can that raggedy old cloth of yours be worth?” The next day, the kid used an infrared pen to burn several holes right through my screen. I didn’t call the police. Instead, I quietly replaced the expensive screen with a mirror, adjusted the angle precisely, and aimed it right back at their window. Now, his son can play with laser reflections in his own home. All day, every day. 1 At six in the evening, I drew the living room curtains, ready to start my workday. I’m a film colorist who works from home, and my living room doubles as my studio. To achieve the most accurate color reproduction possible, I had spent three thousand dollars on a top-of-the-line, professional-grade screen imported from Germany. For me, this screen was my livelihood. I turned on the projector and my computer, preparing to fine-tune a new batch of film footage. Suddenly, a glaring red dot appeared out of nowhere, right in the center of the image. It danced around the lead actress’s face like an annoying mosquito, completely wrecking the color balance I had so carefully calibrated. My blood pressure shot up instantly. I walked to the window and peeked through a crack in the curtains. In the window of apartment 602, directly above mine, a small head was bobbing furtively. In his hand was a laser pointer. I knew the kid. It was the upstairs neighbors’ son, Leo, a nine-year-old with a reputation as the neighborhood’s number one terror. A surge of anger flared in my chest. I shut down my equipment, swallowed my rage, and marched upstairs to knock on 602’s door. Leo’s father, Mark, answered. He was a man in his forties with a prominent beer belly and the stale smell of alcohol clinging to him. I tried to keep my tone civil. “Hey, Mark. I’m your downstairs neighbor.” “Could you please ask your son to stop shining that laser pointer at my window?” I continued. “I have a very expensive, professional screen set up, and it’s interfering with my work. It could also damage the equipment.” Mark looked me up and down, his face a mask of undisguised contempt. He yelled into the apartment, “Leo, stop playing with that thing!” Then he turned back to me with a dismissive smirk. “He’s just a kid, having a bit of fun. What’s the big deal?” He clapped me on the shoulder, his greasy sense of superiority washing over me. “Besides, it’s just a piece of cloth, right? How much could it possibly be worth? If it gets damaged, I’ll just pay you for it.” In that moment, I felt my fists clench. Looking at his face, a canvas of indifference and condescension, I knew that saying anything more would be a waste of breath. I took a deep breath, turned, and walked back downstairs. Back in my apartment, I stared at the faint red afterglow on my screen. It didn’t feel like a spot of light. It felt like a stinging slap across my face. 2 My visit did nothing to stop the harassment. In fact, it made it worse. From the next day on, the red dot would appear like clockwork the moment I drew my curtains to work. It was no longer a random flicker; it had become a targeted provocation. It would settle precisely on the face of the character I was trying to color-correct, or trace circles around the names in the rolling credits. It was as if Leo had discovered a new, more engaging video game. My work efficiency plummeted. I had to redo several projects because the constant distraction caused me to misjudge the colors. I tried messaging Mark, but he either ignored me or replied with a curt “got it” and nothing more. Finally, at my wits’ end, I decided to take the issue to the building’s residents’ group chat. In the 500-member “Harmony Homes Community” chat, I typed out a message, trying my best to remain polite and restrained. “@Mark_602, hi Mark, just wanted to bring this up again. Your son has been continuously shining a laser pointer into my apartment, and it’s seriously affecting my work and daily life. I would appreciate it if you could address this and supervise your child. Thank you.” Silence descended on the group chat for a few seconds. Then, a familiar profile picture popped up. It was Mark’s wife, Karen. She didn’t type. She sent a 60-second voice message, her voice shrill and dripping with manufactured victimhood. “Hey, downstairs! Are you for real? A grown man picking on a little boy?” “My son was just curious! He pointed a little light at your window! What’s the big deal?” “First you come knocking on our door, and now you’re trying to shame us in the group chat? Are you trying to bully a poor widow and her orphan child?” I blinked. Mark was a burly, six-foot man. How had he suddenly become a widow’s orphan? But her performance wasn’t over. “You keep your curtains drawn so tight all day. Who knows what kind of shady business you’re up to in there? Our Leo is just an innocent child! Don’t you dare project your filthy adult world onto him!” “And anyway, he just shined a light at it! Is that raggedy old cloth of yours made of gold or something? Why are you so petty!” The words “raggedy old cloth” were like needles in my ears. Her tirade of lies and accusations successfully stirred the pot. A few of her “sisters” from her morning workout group immediately jumped to her defense. “Exactly, Karen, sweetie. Don’t listen to him. People are so narrow-minded these days.” “A grown man, arguing with a child. So pathetic.” “Come on, young man, no need to be so aggressive. Being good neighbors is the most important thing.” I stared at the screen, my hands trembling with rage. A simple attempt to protect my property had somehow turned into a public shaming session. For the first time, I understood what it felt like to be completely and utterly defenseless against a torrent of lies. I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and sat in the darkness, listening to the heavy thud of my own heart. I realized then that reasoning with this family was a lost cause. 3 I decided to retreat. For now. If reasoning wouldn’t work, I’d resort to the simplest solution: a physical barrier. I spent over a hundred dollars on the thickest, double-layered blackout curtains I could find online, advertised to block 99.9% of all light. The curtains were installed quickly. I drew both the new and old layers, and my living room was plunged into absolute darkness. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Finally, I thought, some peace and quiet. The first two days were blissfully silent. The annoying red dot was gone. A sliver of hope even flickered within me. Maybe they had gotten bored and given up. But I was too naive. I had underestimated a brat’s capacity for destruction, and his parents’ willingness to enable it. On the third afternoon, I was in the kitchen making dinner when a strange, acrid smell drifted in from the living room. It was a peculiar scent, like burning plastic mixed with a chemical tang. My stomach dropped. I rushed into the living room and threw open the heavy curtains. The sight before me made my blood run cold. My pristine, perfectly smooth German screen was now marred by five or six black holes, each the size of a pea. The edges were scorched yellow, and thin wisps of smoke were still curling up from them. My three-thousand-dollar screen was ruined. I ran to the window and looked up. The curtains in 602 were drawn. I couldn’t see anything. But I knew. I knew it was them. A regular laser pointer couldn’t have done this. This had to be an industrial-grade laser, something much more powerful. Maybe even one of those illegal, high-powered “laser cannons” you could find online. I immediately checked the feed from the micro-camera I had installed in the corner of the living room for security purposes. It was aimed directly at my screen and the window. I rewound the footage. It didn’t take long to find the evidence. In the video, a beam of light, almost invisible to the naked eye but infinitely more powerful than before, shot down from the upstairs window. It remained fixed on the screen. A few seconds later, the spot began to smoke, then turned black, and finally, burned through. The entire process lasted for nearly a minute. This was a deliberate, malicious act of destruction. I watched the devastating beam of light in the video, then looked at the ugly scars on my screen. My body began to tremble with an uncontrollable rage. A volcano of fury erupted in my chest, incinerating the last shred of my reason. I didn’t storm upstairs to confront them. I didn’t call the police. Because I knew, with people like this, the police would just mediate. They’d be forced to pay for the damages, and that would be it. But I wanted more than just money. I wanted them to pay a real, unforgettable price for their actions. I calmly turned off the camera and removed the memory card. Then, I opened my web browser and typed, slowly and deliberately, into the search bar. “Large, high-reflectivity, optical mirror.” The game was about to change. 4 I didn’t confront the family again. I didn’t say another word in the group chat. I went about my life as if nothing had happened. My uncharacteristic silence seemed to unnerve Karen. She even tried to prod me in the group chat. “Haven’t heard from downstairs in a few days. Hope he’s not cooking up some nasty scheme.” I ignored her. All my energy was focused on my plan for revenge. First, I carefully took down the burned screen. I rolled it up, wrapped it in protective film, and stored it away. It was my most crucial piece of evidence. Next, I meticulously measured the screen’s dimensions: 2.2 meters long, 1.25 meters wide. Now, I needed to find the perfect “weapon” to replace it. My initial idea was simple: buy a regular mirror and hang it up. But I quickly dismissed that. A standard mirror wouldn’t have a high enough reflectivity, and it could shatter, which was a safety risk. I needed a weapon of mass reflection, something that could bounce back the laser’s energy with almost no loss. Just when I was about to give up, I thought of someone. Mr. Peterson, who lived on the 17th floor. He was a retired high school physics teacher who had taught optics his entire life. He was a tech geek who loved to tinker with gadgets. I’d run into him in the elevator a few times. Seeing that I was a young guy who also wore glasses, he’d struck up a conversation about anti-blue-light lenses. He’d left a strong impression on me. With a “what have I got to lose” attitude, I brought a box of tea and knocked on his door. Mr. Peterson’s apartment was like a mini science museum. A telescope stood in the living room, and the bookshelves were crammed with technical manuals. I told him everything, from the initial laser harassment to the destruction of my screen. When I finished, he slammed his fist on his thigh. “Unbelievable! That family has been a menace to this building for years!” he fumed. “This isn’t just a prank anymore. This is intentional destruction of property! It’s a crime!” When I laid out my “mirror revenge” plan, Mr. Peterson’s eyes lit up. He pushed his glasses up his nose, a scholar’s excitement spreading across his face. “My boy, that is a brilliant idea!” he exclaimed. “It’s a perfect application of ‘an eye for an eye.’ A physics-based version, no less!” He immediately pulled me over to his desk, spread out a large sheet of paper, and began to sketch. “See, a regular mirror won’t do. We need a ‘first surface mirror,’ also known as an ‘optical mirror.’ The reflective coating is on the front of the glass, so it doesn’t create a double image. Its reflectivity can be over 95%!” “And the angle,” he continued, “you’re on the fifth floor, they’re on the sixth. The height difference is about 2.8 meters. You’ll need to get a precise horizontal measurement.” “According to the law of reflection, the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection. We can calculate the exact tilt of the mirror to ensure the laser beam is returned along its original path, right back to their window!” The more Mr. Peterson talked, the more excited he became. It was as if this wasn’t an act of revenge, but a rigorous scientific experiment. Under his expert guidance, my plan became clearer, more refined. What I needed was a custom-made, large-format, high-reflectivity, precisely angled instrument of perfect revenge.

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The day of my wedding, Finnick crashed it by blowing up the hotel. He dug me out of the rubble with his bare hands. Seeing the amnesia in my eyes, he hid his wild joy and told me, with a tremor in his voice, that he was the love of my life. For five years, Finnick loved me like his own soul. And then, he got bored. He slipped off his wedding ring with practiced ease, his hand gently resting on his young assistant’s pregnant belly. “Give me this child,” he murmured, “and I’ll give you my life.” “But, as always, not a word of this to Gwen.” What he didn’t know was that his “little girl” secretly recorded the whole thing. She sent it to me with a triumphant message: Time for the old hag to step aside. What he knew even less was that my memory had returned. And before him, my one true love was a man named Adrian. Handsome, brilliant, and terrifyingly vengeful. He never let a slight go unpunished. And in that, we were exactly alike. Finnick was finished. … Finnick was exceptionally good at hiding his little bird. Unfortunately for him, the little bird had ambitions as big as her nerve. Her name was Lily, and she showed up on my doorstep, pregnant belly and all, ready for a fight. “Gwen, honey,” she said, her voice sickly sweet, “I’m having twins. The doctor said they’re both boys.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Their daddy feels so bad for me, having to go through this. He massages my feet every single night, stays until I fall asleep before he goes home to his boring wife. He says he just can’t wait to meet his sons!” I met her gaze with a smile, a chill creeping into my eyes. “Did your ‘daddy’ ever tell you what kind of person I am?” If Finnick was so eager to meet his children, who was I to stand in his way? Thirty minutes later, an express courier was dispatched to Finnick’s corporate headquarters. I sipped my afternoon tea and watched the live feed from his office security camera. When the package arrived, his severe, handsome face softened into a tender smile. But the moment he opened it, his expression turned to stone. Inside was a termination of pregnancy report. And a photograph of what was left of his children with Lily. An hour later, he was home. Lily was lying on a portable medical bed we’d set up, and the second she saw him, she burst into wracking sobs. “Finnick, darling! She murdered our babies! The babies you were so excited to meet! Kill her! You have to kill that bitch for me!” A flicker of pain crossed Finnick’s eyes. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. His voice was low and hard, barely containing a torrent of rage. “Gwen, she’s just a kid who graduated a few months ago. Did you have to be so cruel?” In five years of marriage, it was the first time he had ever raised his voice to me. And it was for another woman. I tossed my phone at him. The screen was filled with intimate videos of him and Lily, interspersed with her messages, insulting me and demanding I step aside. “Your ‘kid’ sent those to me to gloat. As your wife, I found them upsetting. Am I not allowed to retaliate?” Finnick froze. He shot a cold glare at Lily. Then, his expression softened as he turned back to me. He knelt, taking my hands in his. “Gwen, you’ve misunderstood,” he said, his voice gentle again. “I only did this because I couldn’t bear the thought of you going through the pain of childbirth. The plan was always to have her carry them, and then we would raise them together.” He looked me in the eyes. “I swear on my life, you are the only person I have ever truly loved.” I believed him. When we’d first discussed having children, he’d signed himself up for a labor pain simulator. It was the first time I’d ever seen Finnick cry. He’d held me tight, his body shaking. “Gwen, how can it hurt that much? Let’s not have kids, okay? I can’t let you go through that.” And so, because he couldn’t bear to see me suffer… he let another woman carry his twins for me? I glanced over at Lily with a mocking smile. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, red with fury. I laughed softly. “Finnick, you really are the cruelest of all. One sentence, and you stab both of us in the back. So, what now?” I leaned closer. “The last time someone made me this angry, you ruined their family, destroyed their business, and ran them out of the city without a second thought.” His gaze slid over to Lily, cold and detached. But the slight tremor in his hand gave him away. After a long moment, he spoke. “Gwen. I will apologize on her behalf. What will it take for you to forgive me and let me take her away from here?” A wave of pure rage washed over me. All his pretty words, all his cold looks, and in the end, he was still protecting her. Without a word, I swept my arm across a nearby table, sending a collection of expensive porcelain crashing to the floor. Finnick didn’t hesitate. He kicked off his shoes and, without breaking stride, walked across the razor-sharp shards. He lifted Lily into his arms and carried her out, his bare feet leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the white porcelain. The sight of it, the stark red on white, made my breath catch. Finnick, for all his madness, was the ultimate pragmatist. In all the years I’d known him, he’d only ever been hurt for me, only ever lost to me. My eyes grew cold. Finnick didn’t know my memory was back. What he knew even less was that I might have actually been falling for him. There were moments I’d considered just playing the amnesiac forever, spending the rest of my life with him. But now… A rotten man and the woman who stole him. I would make them both pay. After that day, Finnick showered me with gifts, a new one arriving every morning. But he spent every night at Lily’s. Tonight’s excuse was a “last-minute business dinner.” He’d be home in a few hours. The moment he hung up, a message from Lily arrived. LOL. I bet the old hag is regretting her choices now. So what if you killed my babies? He feels even worse for me now. He cooks me gourmet meals every single day. The attached video showed a tall man in an apron, busy in a sleek, modern kitchen. Finnick had never known how to cook. For me, he had taken lessons from master chefs. And now, every dish he was making for Lily was one of my favorites. I stared at the food, so familiar I could almost smell it. A wave of nausea rolled through me. Damn you, Finnick. You’ve ruined all my favorite foods. Lily’s voice message was dripping with malicious glee. He also said he’s going to give me another baby tonight. As for you… You’re finished, old woman. The message ended just as something slammed into the side of my car. I looked up. A dozen bald, heavily tattooed men were surrounding my vehicle, brandishing baseball bats. “You the one who’s been messing with my little sister, Lily?” one of them growled. I raised an eyebrow and calmly dialed Finnick. As usual, he picked up on the first ring. “Finnick,” I said, my voice even. “Lily sent her biker gang brothers after me. They have me surrounded.” His voice on the other end was weary. “Gwen, can you please not do this? She’s just a college grad, she doesn’t know any…” I cut him off with a smile. “I’m not going to fight back. Come or don’t. Your choice.” I hung up. The night air was cool. I watched the traffic light cycle from red to green, counting. It had only changed three times before he appeared. He must have hit traffic and abandoned his car, running the rest of the way. He was panting, his chest heaving, his dress shirt clinging to the muscles beneath. I watched him for a moment, then smiled. I had lied. The men who had tried to corner me were now lying in a heap on the pavement around my car, groaning. Finnick stared at me, his jaw tight with frustration. His gaze fell to a scratch on my leg, and his anger melted into pained concern. He knelt, his touch impossibly gentle as he cleaned the wound and applied a bandage. “You just love torturing me, don’t you?” he muttered, the words a mix of adoration and defeat. It was the only way he ever let his frustration show. For a second, my heart stirred. I felt a rare urge to explain. “It wasn’t me. Lily really did send them.” He didn’t even hesitate. “I asked her, Gwen. She swore on her life it wasn’t her. She’s a simple girl. Not like…” He stopped, but I heard the unspoken words. Not like you. Cruel and calculating. My face hardened. I picked up my phone and dialed my lawyer in front of him. “I need you to draw up divorce papers. I’m on my way to pick them up now.” I shoved him out of the passenger seat and threw the car into reverse. He moved with lightning speed, planting himself directly in front of the car. The wind whipped through his hair. His eyes were wild, defiant. He gritted his teeth, his voice a low growl. “Gwen. You want a divorce? You’ll have to run me over first.” The bright headlights illuminated the madness in his face. I held his gaze and stomped on the accelerator. The screech of tires filled the night. I stopped just inches from his body. He hadn’t flinched. His eyes were blazing, a feverish, desperate fire. This time, it was my turn to grit my teeth. “That lunatic.” I wrenched the wheel, turning the car around, and sped away like a coward fleeing a battle. A few days later, another message from Lily. To my surprise, her tone was pleading. Gwen, I’m so, so sorry. I know I was wrong. I know I made you angry. Please, just give me a chance to make it right. She sent an address, an invitation to a private estate for a walk, so she could apologize in person. I went. A massive rose garden stretched out before me, a sprawling, private manor. Lily stood waiting, dressed in a white sundress against a backdrop of blood-red roses. She looked like the lady of the manor as she unlocked the main gate. My body went rigid as my eyes caught the giant, framed photograph displayed among the flowers. In it, Lily and Finnick were intertwined, kissing passionately in a bed of roses. It was beautiful, intimate. The photo was dated five years ago. Before I lost my memory. Lily’s smug laugh echoed beside me. “Oh, Gwen, honey. I’ve known about you for a long time. I even gave Finnick tips on how to win you over.” It turned out, Lily had known Finnick long before I did. He was her sponsor, a benefactor who had pulled her out of poverty. He’d brought her to the city, and with nowhere else to go, she had lived in his home. The long corridors of the manor were lined with photos, each one a snapshot of her life with him. This entire estate, he had built it for her. My hands felt numb as she walked me through their history, one picture at a time. Her eyes flickered to my wedding ring. “Every single gift Finnick ever gave you? I helped him pick it out,” she said with a triumphant smile. “Even this ring. He only bought it because I told him I liked the design.” I knew she was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth. Finnick had presented me with dozens of designs and let me choose my own. But it didn’t matter. The wave of nausea was back. Expressionless, I pulled the ring from my finger and tossed it into the rose bushes. Seeing this, Lily’s smile widened. “Finnick was so obsessed with you. It made me so jealous,” she sighed dramatically. “But it’s okay. People get bored, right? I just played the part of the good, understanding girl. I told him I didn’t want anything from him, just a little bit of the love you didn’t want, whenever he thought of me.” “And you know what?” she giggled, remembering. “He slept with me. Willingly.” She looked me dead in the eye. “You were the prize. But once he won you, you became an annoyance. He’s tired of you.” “So, do yourself a favor and get lost. Finnick will be mine, sooner or later.” I stared at her for a long moment, then a slow smile spread across my face. “You’re that much of a bitch? Good. That makes this a lot easier.” Lily frowned, confused. I arched an eyebrow. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty.” Before she could process what I meant, I kicked over a rack of vintage wine bottles, shattering them across the floor. Then I pulled out a lighter. The small, flickering flame reflected in her terrified eyes. The next second, the entire manor was engulfed in fire. Finnick arrived quickly. He saw me and Lily, framed by the inferno, and his face was a mask of horror. Lily shrieked, “Finnick, save me! The fire’s getting closer! I just lost our babies for you!” I watched him with detached curiosity, mouthing two words at him through the flames. Her or me? The fire roared, casting his tortured expression in a hellish light. He drenched himself with a nearby hose and ran toward Lily. As he did, I heard his desperate shout. “Gwen! I know you can get out on your own! Lily can’t!” He swept her into his arms. Over his shoulder, Lily shot me a look of pure triumph. I just smiled back at her. And I didn’t move. The flames surged higher. Finnick glanced back and saw me standing perfectly still. He hesitated for half a second, his face a war of indecision. Then, cursing, he set Lily down and charged back into the fire for me, throwing his wet jacket over my head and dragging me out. I felt a pang of disappointment. What a shame. If he’d left me there, I could have had my divorce. As for the other half of that feeling, I refused to examine it. After he got me to safety, he turned to go back for Lily. But in the moments we’d been outside, a massive, ornate trellis had collapsed in the hallway, pinning her by the leg. When Finnick carried her out, she was screaming in agony. I knew he was furious. As he passed me, he deliberately slammed his shoulder into mine. His voice was ice. “Take my wife,” he ordered his men. “Bring her to the hospital.”

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My CEO wife threw a welcome-home party for her one true love. While I was gone, he tried to take my drunk wife to a hotel room. But I cut him off first. That night, through a mix of sweet-talking and sheer persistence, I ended up sleeping with the wife who’d been saving herself for him. The next morning, she was furious, shoving divorce papers in my face. “Cole, just pretend last night never happened.” “If you don’t sign these, I’ll make you regret it.” I glanced at the settlement: a cool fifty million dollars. I signed my name so fast the pen smoked. Are you kidding me? I’m just a guy who got transmigrated into this novel. Let someone else play the part of the tragic, pining husband. I got the girl, I got the money. Time to disappear. 1 I’ve been transmigrated. And I’ve landed on the exact day my CEO wife, Stella, is throwing a lavish welcome-home party for the man she actually loves. I checked the time. This was bad. If I was a minute later, they’d be in a hotel room, and I’m not the kind of guy who gets cheated on. I grabbed my jacket and rushed out, bringing a couple of my bodyguards just in case. Following the script of the novel, I drove straight to the hotel. As soon as I walked into the lobby, I saw her. Stella was passed out on one of the plush sofas, completely oblivious. Just then, the male lead—the one and only Leo—walked over from the front desk, a key card in his hand. “Stella, you’re drunk. Let’s get you up to a room to rest…” He reached down to pick her up. My face was a thundercloud as I shoved him back. “Who the hell are you, trying to take my wife to a hotel room?” The sudden push sent Leo stumbling. He steadied himself, a flash of shock in his eyes that quickly turned to anger. “You must be Cole,” he sneered. “If I hadn’t gone abroad, do you really think Stella would have married you? You’re just my replacement.” A smug, condescending smirk spread across his face. “Oh, and by the way, Stella told me everything. Three years of marriage, and she’s kept herself pure for me. It must be pathetic, being her husband.” I didn’t have time for his trash talk. I gestured for my bodyguards to get Stella into the car. “What do you think you’re doing? Put her down!” Leo shouted, lunging forward to stop them. I stepped in his way, my eyes like ice. “Leo, I’ll say this one last time: Stella is my wife. If you keep this up, I have no problem plastering your face all over the internet. The world can see the ‘brilliant young talent’ fresh from overseas is just a homewrecker in a hurry.” I leaned in closer. “Think about it. Can you really handle the wrath of both the Sullivan and the Croft families?” My words hit him like a slap. Leo was just an illegitimate son of the Croft family. Stella’s grandfather, the Sullivan family patriarch, had never approved of him, which was why he’d been shipped abroad in the first place. If he forced this and I made it public, the old man’s fury would be apocalyptic. It was a fire Leo couldn’t afford to play with. He saw the cold resolve in my eyes and knew I wasn’t bluffing. He stood frozen, his face a mask of impotent rage, and could only watch as my men carried Stella away. As I left, I shot him a final, triumphant smirk. It nearly made his head explode. In the back of the car, with Stella’s soft form nestled against me and the faint, sweet scent of her perfume in the air, my heart began to race. She really was stunning. Her body was soft and pliant, her skin like porcelain, her curves impossibly perfect. More breathtaking than any celebrity. And that bastard Leo almost had her. 2 Back home, after a quick shower, I slid into bed next to Stella. In the original novel, the two of them always slept in separate rooms. Leaving a wife with a body like this to sleep alone? The original Cole was an absolute fool. I silently cursed his name a hundred times. With zero guilt, I wrapped my arm around her slender waist. The moment my hand started to wander, her small, soft hand clamped down on mine. A blush crept up her cheeks. “Don’t,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep. “I’m not… divorced yet…” Her eyes fluttered open. When she saw it was me, the haze of sleep vanished, replaced by a glacial cold. “What are you doing here?” I froze my hand but didn’t remove it, my tone lazy. “I’m your husband. Who else would it be? Were you hoping for someone else?” That shut her up. A second later, she started struggling, trying to push me away. But she was weak from the alcohol, her efforts futile. All she could do was glare at me. “Cole, let go of me! Who said you could sleep in my bed? Get out!” I chuckled and pulled her closer. “We’re married. Isn’t sharing a bed what couples do?” “You’re shameless!” she seethed, her chest heaving. She looked like she wanted to bite me. I sighed dramatically in her ear, my voice laced with sorrow. “Stella, you’re the one who wants the divorce, right? For three years, I’ve served you without a single complaint.” “I made you breakfast every morning.” “Last year, when you were sick in the hospital for a week, I stayed by your side for seven days and seven nights, barely sleeping a wink.” “Every time you came home drunk from a business dinner, who was it that made you soup to sober you up?” “You said you wanted to stay faithful to your first love, and have I ever touched a single hair on your head in three years?” As I spoke, I worked up a tear in my eye. “All these years, I’ve taken care of you, given you everything. Even if there was no love, there was effort. All I’m asking for is one night, just holding you. Is that too much?” Her tense body gradually softened. A rare flicker of guilt crossed her face. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated financially.” I pretended to make a great, painful decision. “Just promise me this one night,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let me just hold you. And tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll sign the divorce papers.” She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had brought up divorce dozens of times, and I had always refused, adamant. She never pushed too hard, afraid her grandfather would find out. Now, here I was, offering it up myself. She couldn’t believe it was real. “You’ll really sign?” 3 My eyes filled with a deep, heartbreaking reluctance. My voice was heavy with unspoken sadness. “Stella, everyone says I’m your doormat. They all know that you mean more to me than my own life. And it’s because I love you that I’m choosing to let you go. I want you to be happy…” Her heart melted. Images of the past three years flashed through her mind—countless moments of me taking care of her, quietly, steadfastly. The guilt intensified. But she still looked at me, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Just holding me? That’s it?” With a shattered expression, I nodded fiercely and raised my right hand. “I swear.” She watched me, her big, beautiful eyes searching my face. All she saw was sincerity. “You’d better behave, Cole.” After a few more minutes of my soft, pleading words, she finally let her guard down completely. Heh. Once a woman’s heart softens, it’s game over. The night was deep, the room was quiet. Two bodies, pressed close together. As the minutes ticked by, I could feel the heat rising from her skin, her breathing growing shallow and quick. She’d already had a lot to drink, and the proximity was doing the rest. One thing led to another. And what should and shouldn’t happen… happened. It was a wild night that didn’t end until the sun began to rise. I was woken up by a phone ringing. Not mine. Stella’s. She must have been exhausted. It was her first time, after all, and she was sleeping like the dead. I glanced at the caller ID. Leo. My annoyance spiked. I just turned her phone off. I was getting out of the shower when the doorbell rang, its timing impeccable. I opened the door, a towel wrapped around my waist, and found Leo standing on the doorstep, his face dark as a storm cloud. I couldn’t help but smile. “Mr. Croft. To what do I owe the pleasure this early in the morning?” 4 His eyes immediately locked onto the fresh scratch marks covering my chest and shoulders. “You slept together,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Heh. We’re a legally married couple. Is that a problem? But I played dumb. “No, of course not. You’re imagining things. Stella has been saving herself for you. She would never… you’ve misunderstood.” The money wasn’t in my account yet. I couldn’t admit anything. If I pissed Stella off now, she might back out of the settlement, and I’d be left with nothing. Leo’s eyes bored into me, his face turning a sickly shade of green. “Misunderstood? Do you think I’m blind, Cole? What about those scratches?” I feigned a frown. “My cat,” I said, my voice laced with impatience. “Is that a problem? And by what right are you questioning me, Mr. Croft? In case you’ve forgotten, until these papers are finalized, I am Stella’s husband.” His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to control his rage. “Move. I want to see Stella.” I blocked the doorway, a playful smirk on my face. “She had a lot to drink last night. She’s still sleeping. If you try to force your way in here, and the old man finds out… I imagine he’ll be paying your family a visit to have a little chat about manners.” Just as I expected, the mention of Stella’s grandfather deflated him instantly. He shot me one last venomous glare, knowing he was beaten. “You just wait,” he spat, before turning and storming off. When I got back to the bedroom, Stella was already awake. Her eyes were burning with fury. My heart skipped a beat. I immediately switched into character, my face a mask of pitiful longing. “Stella, you’re awake? Stella, I can’t live without you. Can we not get a divorce? Please? What would I do without you?” She was livid. Last night, I had promised to just hold her, and instead, I had… well. And now I was backing out of the deal? Did I think she was a pushover? 5 But then her eyes met my pleading, mournful gaze, and her resolve wavered. Her voice, when she spoke, was softer than I expected. “Cole, I kept my end of the bargain. Don’t try to pull anything.” She slapped a document on the bedside table. A divorce agreement. “If you don’t sign this, I will make your life a living hell.” My eyes went wide as I scanned the asset division clause. Fifty. Million. Dollars. Before I was transmigrated, I was just a corporate drone, crushed by the daily grind. The original Cole’s family had a business, sure, but it was nothing compared to the Sullivan empire. Besides, he had an older brother. He was never the heir. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have spent three years of his marriage as a house husband. This wasn’t a divorce agreement. It was a winning lottery ticket. Seeing me hesitate, Stella’s face darkened. She thought I was going to renege on the deal. “Cole, do not test my patience…” Before she could finish, I had scrawled my signature and handed it back. “When does the money hit my account?” Stella was clearly taken aback, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re really agreeing to this?” Heh. What’s that supposed to mean? I signed it. Is she going to back out now? But this was the critical moment. I couldn’t look too eager. I grabbed her soft hand, my face the picture of heartbreak. “Stella, you know I can’t live without you. But… I respect your choice.” She snatched her hand back, a visible wave of relief washing over her. She turned and made a call to her assistant. A few moments later, my phone pinged with a bank notification. I stared at the long line of zeros and almost burst out laughing. Overcome with joy, I pulled her in and kissed her on the cheek. The memory of last night must have resurfaced, because her face flushed with anger and she shoved me away. “Get out!” she screamed. “I don’t want to see you ever again!” Faced with her murderous glare, I didn’t need to be told twice. I beat a hasty retreat. After I left, Stella sat on the sofa in a daze. The events of the past twenty-four hours were still a blur. Suddenly, she realized that something about me had changed. The old Cole would never have been so bold, so shameless. He would never have done… any of that. She had thought signing the papers would make her happy, ecstatic even. But now, all she felt was a strange, hollow emptiness in her chest, as if she had lost something vital.

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Bad news: I’m the switched-at-birth fake heiress. Even worse news: I’ve spent my entire life being a spoiled, arrogant brat with zero skills, and now I have nothing to show for it. And I’m pretty sure this is all my ridiculously overprotective, sister-doting brother’s fault. So I stormed over to his penthouse in the middle of the night and clung to his leg for dear life. “Waaah! It’s all your fault you spoiled me rotten! If you don’t take care of me, I’ll… I’ll hang myself from your front door!” A vein throbbed on my brother’s temple. “…Just get up, Debra.” 1 I was a mess, sprawled on the polished marble floor, my fingers desperately clutching the leg of Liam Howard’s tailored trousers. I proceeded to wipe my snot and tears all over the expensive fabric. Liam’s patience finally snapped. “Debra Howard!” I looked up at him, my eyes shimmering with tears. Just like that, the anger drained from his face. He took a deep breath, his voice softening. “Of course, I’ll take care of you. But you have to tell me what happened first, okay?” It all started the day before. With graduation just around the corner, I had zero interest in getting an internship. My brilliant plan was to go home and surprise my parents by announcing my intention to mooch off them for the foreseeable future. Instead, the surprise was on me. I overheard the secret that would turn my world upside down. Turns out, years ago, my dad had to go overseas for a business trip that was supposed to last several months. He couldn’t bear to leave my mom, who was suffering from terrible morning sickness, so he took her with him. A month before her due date, she took a nasty fall and was rushed to a nearby hospital. The baby—me—was born safely, but then a massive earthquake struck. In the ensuing chaos, two newborns in incubators were accidentally switched. Now, my parents were in the study, discussing how to contact their biological daughter and make things right. When they mentioned my name, their voices heavy with exhaustion, I couldn’t bring myself to listen anymore. My head felt like it was filled with buzzing bees for the rest of the day. For a spoiled, clueless girl who had never worked a day in her life, my world had just ended. My sky had fallen. Growing up, my parents tried everything to find a hobby for me. They hired tutors for piano, ballet, painting, even martial arts. I managed to drive every single one of them away. It wasn’t complicated: I was a bratty chatterbox. I refused to learn and insisted on pulling my tutors into endless, pointless conversations. Whenever my mom scolded me, I’d immediately hide behind Liam, my lower lip trembling. “Liam, I don’t like any of this!” He was a total sucker for it. He’d shield me instantly. “If she doesn’t want to learn, don’t force her.” My mom would sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Keep spoiling her, Liam. She’ll grow up knowing nothing. Are you going to provide for her then?” His expression, even as a boy, was firm. “Yeah. I will.” And he spent the first part of his life living up to that promise. After I was born, the family business boomed. My parents were constantly flying around the world. At just six years old, Liam took it upon himself to raise me. You could say I was his project. But his excessive doting turned me into a little terror. Didn’t want to go to class? That’s fine, as long as I was having fun. Bullied other kids with my family’s influence? No problem, he’d clean up the mess. Refused to learn any skills? Who cares? Our family had more than enough money. That was the value system I’d lived by for twenty-one years. I was all set to be a happy, pampered freeloader for the rest of my life. And now they were telling me I was the fake heiress. I couldn’t accept it. I just couldn’t. 2 The thought of my miserable future life brought on a fresh wave of genuine, heartfelt sobs. “Liam, this is mostly your fault.” He looked at me, utterly bewildered. I spoke with the conviction of a prosecutor. “You know what they say, ‘spare the rod, spoil the child.’ I read this story once, about a mother who let her son get away with everything, from stealing candy as a kid to robbing banks as an adult. He ended up on death row, and for his last wish, he asked to see his mom. Do you know what he did? He bit her ear clean off!” Liam squeezed his eyes shut and took another long, slow breath, his voice tight. “What, exactly, are you planning to steal?” I panicked. “Ugh, why are you so dense? It’s a metaphor! I’m making a point!” He actually looked surprised. “A metaphor? Look at you, learning new words.” That only made me cry harder. “This isn’t a joke! I’m really not your sister!” Liam froze. Then, he reached down and effortlessly lifted me from the floor. “I know. But I raised you. Blood or not, I’ll always take care of you.” “Really?” “Yes.” “I don’t believe you.” “…” What if the real heiress decided I’d stolen her life of luxury for twenty-one years and convinced my parents to kick me out? Besides, everyone knew me as a spoiled brat. If we ever got into a fight, they’d all take her side and condemn me. My brother adored me, sure, but I wasn’t his real sister. Over time… Oh god, the more I thought about it, the more terrifying it became. It’s not like I asked to be switched at birth! Seeing my lip tremble again, Liam sighed and knelt in front of me, his voice soft and coaxing, just like all the times before. “Then what do you want me to do? I’ll agree to anything, okay?” My head snapped up. “How about you send me to study abroad!” Liam’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t say anything. “No, wait, that’s a terrible idea. I made too many enemies in high school, and they’re all overseas now. If they find out I’ve gone from princess to pauper, they’ll make my life a living hell. I’ll probably end up dead in a ditch somewhere…” I chewed on my finger, immediately dismissing my own suggestion. “Okay, what if you record a video promising to give me a monthly allowance… no, that’s no good either. If we have a falling out, you’ll just cut me off and sue me for blackmail. I’ll end up in jail, and when I get out, I’ll be a mess, and then one of my old enemies will find me and push me off a building—” The vein on Liam’s forehead was practically pulsing. He clamped a hand over my mouth. “Enough. I should have burned all of your trashy novels years ago.” “Mmph! It’s your fault for spoiling me! I’m terrified and you’re still yelling at me!” The thread of composure I’d been holding onto finally snapped. I grabbed the edge of the sofa, sobbing and stomping my feet. “Liam, what am I going to do?” He must have never seen me cry this hard before because he just stared, momentarily stunned. After a long moment, he pulled me into his arms. “What are you so afraid of? I’m never going to leave you.” I don’t know how long I cried, soaking a large patch of his custom-made black silk shirt before I finally drifted off to sleep. In a hazy daze, I felt someone carry me to a soft bed, gently wipe my face with a warm cloth, and then quietly close the door, leaving me in the darkness. 3 I slept like the dead. When I woke up, the sun was already setting, casting long, orange shadows across the room. I rubbed my swollen eyes and opened the door to find Liam standing silently on the balcony. He was perfectly still, staring at the distant skyline, a nearly burnt-out cigarette pinched between his fingers. My heart dropped. The last time he smoked was when he had just taken over the Howard Group. The foundation was shaky, and the old board members fought him on every decision. The stress got to him, and he started smoking. When I found out, I threw a fit—fake coughing, shortness of breath, chest pains—a full-blown drama queen performance until he agreed to quit. He never could say no to me. So why was he smoking now? Was it… because of me? “Liam,” I called out softly from behind him. His fingers twitched, and he reflexively stubbed out the cigarette. His hair was a little messy, falling over his forehead and hiding the gaze he deliberately kept averted. That’s when I noticed it. A faint, angry red bloom across his right cheek, like he’d been slapped. Hard. The words died in my throat. He forced a weak smile, his voice raspy. “You’re awake? I’ll go make you some pasta to fill you up.” He walked past me towards the kitchen, his steps hurried as if he were fleeing a natural disaster. My phone buzzed gently. I glanced down and saw a message from my dad, sent and then quickly retracted. The picture was becoming painfully clear. Welp, it looked like Debra Howard was about to be permanently evicted from her home. I clamped my hand over my mouth and ran back into the room, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. Before the axe fell for good, I quickly checked the balance on my accounts. Luckily, I still had a little over a million dollars. First things first, I transferred a hundred thousand dollars to each of the two girls I’d been sponsoring for years, to cover their tuition and living expenses. Almost immediately, two question marks popped up in our little group chat. I gave them the short version of the story, gently explaining that my own future was uncertain and I couldn’t continue supporting them regularly anymore. Right now, I was paranoid and fragile, seeing shadows in every corner. I felt like anyone could be waiting to kick me while I was down. I didn’t want to expose my weakness, so I was about to dissolve the group chat when a video call request came through from them. Mia: “Is that all? Big deal. I’ll support you from now on.” Lily: “Debra, I’ll support you too!” My composure shattered in an instant, and fresh tears streamed down my face. I was touched, but I had to refuse. “Sniffle… Never mind, guys. The money you two make wouldn’t even be enough to buy me a handbag.” Mia and Lily: “…” Mia was in my year; Lily was a year younger. Back in prep school, they were scholarship students at our elite academy. That kind of poor-but-resilient-heroine trope was prime bait for the idle, rich scumbags. And I, the resident tyrannical heiress, loved nothing more than putting those scumbags in their place. So, we had a deal: I protected and funded them, and they tutored me. It was a fair trade that had lasted until now. I wasn’t sure if you could call us friends, but they loved sharing their lives with me, and I found it surprisingly fun. After they saw I’d declined their very generous offer of patronage, they spent the whole night planning out my future. In the end, we all agreed on the perfect solution. Get certified as a pastry chef and open a dessert shop! Ever since I was a teenager, whenever I got into trouble, I’d bake a box of cookies for Liam as an apology. Even the coldest heart would melt at the sight of such a peace offering. After thinking it over, I realized that baking was probably the only talent and interest I actually had. Time to get to work. I started researching online, so absorbed that I didn’t even notice the missed calls from Ethan. 4 A few days later, Liam seemed to have finally processed the fact that I wasn’t his biological sister. Seeing that my mood had stabilized, he cautiously brought up the topic. It seemed a major life crisis really could make a person grow up overnight. I even found myself reflecting on my own behavior. Liam had always been so good to me, and I’d used his love to emotionally blackmail him. It was completely out of line. The old me, the one who held everyone else to impossible standards while letting myself off the hook, would never have thought that way. But I wasn’t a pampered heiress anymore. A girl’s got to know when to adapt. I sighed inwardly and forced a smile. “It’s a good thing Mom and Dad found their real daughter. What’s her name? Where does she go to school?” Liam looked at me, his gaze deep and unreadable. “Her name is Isla. She’s currently studying abroad… at the same university as Ethan Vance. It seems they’re… quite close.” He paused on the last sentence, his eyes dropping to avoid mine. I froze. Isla. I’d heard that name before. The first time was during a phone call with Ethan. I heard a girl’s voice in the background and immediately, jealously demanded to know who she was. He was silent for a moment before answering coolly, “Isla. She’s a classmate in my project group.” The second time, Mia got accepted into an exchange program at the same university as Ethan. Knowing about my massive crush, she volunteered to do some recon for me. She found out that he and this Isla girl had indeed partnered on several major projects. And the third time… was Liam telling me she was the real Howard heiress. Trashy romance novels were too tame. My life was way more dramatic. If I flipped off the sky right now, would it strike me with lightning? What cosmic force had I pissed off to deserve this? Seeing me looking completely lost, Liam sighed softly. “Ethan has always been cold and aloof. I never wanted you to pursue him because I was afraid you’d get hurt. If you—” I shook my head vigorously, my gaze determined. “Don’t worry, Liam. I’m done chasing him.” The Vances and the Howards were old family friends. Ethan and I had grown up together. He was brilliant, devastatingly handsome, and had this untouchable, icy aura that perfectly fit my image of the unattainable male lead. So I used our childhood connection to stake my claim, making sure not a single other girl got near him for years. He once said he liked girls who were his equal, so I gritted my teeth and studied for hundreds of sleepless nights to get into a top university in the same city as him. Although Ethan was cold to everyone, he always tacitly allowed my not-so-subtle advances. I took that as a sign that he wasn’t rejecting me, which only encouraged me to try harder. Our families had even floated the idea of us getting engaged after graduation. But now, by some twist of fate, he’d met the real heiress, Isla. This must be what he meant by his “equal.” What could I do? Fate itself had tied them together. I couldn’t even imagine how ugly my downfall would be if I refused to see the writing on the wall and kept clinging to him. Hearing my answer, Liam’s eyes flickered, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Really?” I nodded glumly. “For real. Being in different countries for so long… the feelings have faded. I don’t think I even liked him that much anymore.” Ugh, such a clumsy lie. He’d see right through it. He could always tell when I was just pretending to be tough. I braced myself for his comforting words, but when I looked up, I was stunned. “Hey, what are you smiling about?” Liam’s smile hadn’t quite vanished. He quickly raised a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Good. It’s good to see you’ve come to your senses.” My senses? Where were my senses supposed to be? I had a feeling he was mocking me. I eyed him suspiciously for a long moment. He suddenly stood up, back to his usual prim and proper self. “I’m heading to work.” 5 Mia quickly sent me a detailed guide on how to open a shop, a step-by-step tutorial that was incredibly thorough and organized. Lily, who happened to be attending university in the city, volunteered to be my runner, helping me scout the perfect location for my new store. My only job was to focus on getting certified. I scheduled a visit to a well-known baking academy to learn more. As luck would have it, the city’s Department of Labor was hosting a culinary competition soon. If I entered, I could directly test for the advanced pastry chef certification. I immediately signed up for the most expensive one-on-one course. When I got home and was looking over my new class schedule, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find a stunning blonde woman. Her bright smile faltered for a second when she saw me, and she greeted me with a hint of awkwardness. “Hi, is this Liam Howard’s apartment? Are you his sister?” She spoke with a crisp British accent. I remembered my mom showing Liam a stack of photos of eligible young women, trying to force him into blind dates. This woman was among them—the only foreigner, which made her memorable. Her name was Anne, the daughter of a major international client. Apparently, she had fallen for Liam at first sight during a business meeting. Foreigners tended to be bold and direct, and it seemed my brother was having trouble with her advances. Obviously, I was on my brother’s side. I had to help him out. I smiled sweetly and replied in equally fluent English, “No. I’m his girlfriend.” Anne’s expression soured. “As far as I know, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.” I casually twirled a lock of my wavy hair, putting on a haughty air. “My apologies. He chased me for a very long time before I finally said yes. You can ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.” “It’s true. She’s my girlfriend,” a deep, steady voice said from behind me. Liam had appeared, walking past a shocked Anne to stand beside me, his expression perfectly calm as he backed up my story. See? We were so in sync. Best fake-siblings ever. Anne’s suspicious gaze still darted between us. So, I took it a step further, looping my arm through Liam’s and cooing in a syrupy voice, “Honey, you must be so tired. How about I make us a steak dinner tonight?” Liam’s body instantly tensed, turning into a stone statue. I gave his arm a discreet, sharp pinch. Thankfully, he recovered quickly, turning to Anne with a natural expression to ask what she needed. Anne just shot us a cold look, muttered, “My mistake,” and clicked away on her high heels. I let out a breath and looked up at Liam, expecting praise. “Wasn’t I great?” He didn’t answer. He just tilted his head slightly, and his voice came out a little rough. “Go put on some more clothes. The AC is blasting in here; you’ll catch a cold.” I glanced down. I was wearing a silk slip dress, the neckline dipping low enough to show a hint of cleavage. Right. We were adults now. Living with my brother was getting a bit… complicated. I needed to find my own place. 6 A few days later, I found an apartment I loved. That evening, the housekeeper came over to cook, but Liam was still working late. On a whim, I decided to cook him a meal myself. So when he finally got home, he was greeted by a table full of blackened, unidentifiable objects and me, beaming with enthusiasm. Liam: “…” I picked up a piece of what was once braised short rib and placed it on his plate. “Brother, you must be starving. I made all your favorites.” “And here are the sweet and sour… things.” “And pan-seared scallops! For your daily dose of protein.” I chattered nonstop throughout the meal, my mouth never stopping for a second. Of course, I knew the food looked and tasted like garbage. But you can’t waste food. The more I talked, the less I had to eat. Liam struggled to swallow a bite of my cooking. The next second, his plate was full again. He looked up, about to say something, but when he saw my almost pleading smile, he froze. A complex mix of emotions flashed through his eyes—shock, guilt, and a deep, aching pity. I don’t know what he was imagining, but he gently pushed my chopsticks away. “Debra,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “you never have to worry about the future. I promised I’d take care of you for the rest of your life, and I will never go back on my word.” He took my hand. “The hands that wear diamonds and pearls aren’t meant for this kind of work, do you understand?” I was genuinely touched. So, naturally, I put another piece of charred mystery meat on his plate. “Liam, I just wanted to repay you for all these years.” “…Repay me?” The words sounded strained, as if he were grinding his teeth. I didn’t get it. “Besides, I won’t have the chance to do this anymore. I’m moving out.” After I briefly explained why, he became incredibly quiet. He even started actively eating, moving with the programmed precision of a robot. Before long, every plate was empty. I stared at him, my hand hovering over my phone, debating whether to call a shaman or a doctor first. Liam suddenly looked up, his tone flat and businesslike, as if he were in a negotiation. “I’ve given it some thought, and I believe it’s better for you to continue living here. My reasons are as follows: first, your baking academy is closer to my place. Second, Anne may not believe you’re my girlfriend, and we might need you to play the part again if she shows up.” I muttered under my breath, “First he says he’ll take care of me forever, now he’s giving me conditions. Men. All talk.” Liam pressed his fingers to his temples. “…Third, the private pastry chef from that bakery you love? I can hire her to give you private lessons.” My face instantly changed. “Really, Liam? I knew you were the best! I’ll love you forever!” The tips of his ears turned pink under the warm light. He avoided my adoring gaze, his voice a low murmur. “So, are you still moving out?” I shook my head so hard it felt like it would fly off, laying on the praise thick. “Nope! Never! You know I was only thinking of moving because I was afraid I was bothering you. Did you really think I’d want to leave the most amazing, handsome, kindest brother in the entire universe? I would rather live here as a cockroach than leave you—” A faint smile touched Liam’s lips. He stood up, gathered the plates, and walked to the kitchen in one fluid motion. “Alright, that’s enough. Go to your room. I’m doing the dishes.” “Okay, Liam!” 7 I don’t think I’d ever been this busy in my entire life. Baking classes during the day, checking on the dessert shop’s renovation in the afternoon, and more lessons with the private chef at night. Oh, and I still had my thesis to finish. I’d gotten used to collapsing on the sofa from exhaustion, only to be carried to my bed by Liam later. So when Ethan’s call woke me up, I groggily checked the time. Eight in the morning. Seeing his name on the screen felt like a relic from another lifetime. It had been over a month since we’d last spoken. I hesitated for a second before answering. “Debra?” It was the middle of the night in the UK, and his voice was hoarse. I mumbled a soft, “Yeah? What’s up?” Ethan was quiet for a moment. “…Are you upset?” “No. Why are you calling all of a sudden?” It was always me who called him, and he was always too busy to talk for long. He was acting weird today. Oh god. Did he find out I’m the fake heiress? Is he calling to officially cut ties? My hand tightened around my phone. Better to strike first than be humiliated. Ethan: “You said you wanted to come to the UK for your graduation trip. I’m not too busy right now, so when are you coming?” I think I did say that. But now I was busy trying to build a life for myself. I couldn’t explain all that to a guy like him. I gave a vague excuse. “I’m getting ready to open a dessert shop, so things are pretty crazy right now. Sorry.” He must have found the idea of a freeloader like me opening a business completely unbelievable because he took a few seconds to process it. “Why a dessert shop, all of a sudden?” That question veered dangerously close to my whole life story, and while he’d find out eventually, I wasn’t ready to tell him now. I was shocked to realize that, in my subconscious, I trusted Mia and Lily more than I trusted Ethan. So what had I been doing chasing him all these years? Was I just bored? “Debra, time to get up for your class.” Liam’s knock on the door came at the perfect moment. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Ethan, I have to go. Talk to you later.” I hung up without waiting for a reply. Knowing his personality, he probably wouldn’t call me again. I should have been sad. But I was so busy I barely had time to breathe, let alone mourn the end of a one-sided crush. In fact, it felt like a massive weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt… lighter. But contrary to my expectations, the less I reached out, the more frequently he started calling. At dinner, I’d answer his call, and before I could get two words out, Liam would remind me my food was getting cold. In my room, as soon as I picked up, Liam would walk in with a platter of cut fruit. On the sofa, just as his ringtone started, a muffled grunt would come from the bathroom. I’d rush over to find he’d nicked himself with his razor. “…Liam, can’t you be more careful?” His freshly dried hair fell softly over his forehead, making him look surprisingly innocent. “Sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.” I pushed him onto the sofa and went to get the first-aid kit. The phone kept ringing incessantly. Liam caught my wrist. “Aren’t you going to get that?” I frowned, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “He’s not as important as you are.” For a second, we both just stared at each other. The air grew thick, syrupy. My breathing hitched. We held each other’s gaze, a flicker of an unidentifiable panic passing between us. The skin where his palm wrapped around my wrist began to burn. I felt trapped. I yanked my hand away, the sudden movement startling even me. Run. The word screamed in my head. Meeting his deep, searching eyes, my throat went dry. “I’ll… I’ll go get the antiseptic.” I had to hurry. At this rate, the tiny cut would heal on its own. After patching him up, I went back to my room and saw a message from Ethan. [Is it because of you and Isla? Is that why you’re pushing me away?] He knew. Which meant my parents had contacted Isla. The axe had finally fallen. But I no longer felt the panic from before. Only a strange calm. Taking a deep breath, I typed out a reply: [No. It’s because I don’t like you anymore.]

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In the first week of the semester, I started having recurring dreams about two men, both of whom claimed to be my boyfriend. I’d wake up sore all over. I went to see a psychiatrist. “It’s just stress. Don’t worry,” he said with a gentle smile, prescribing me some medication. “Take this, and you’ll fall asleep early.” But after I started taking it, I found the dreams only got longer. In the dream, the other man clasped my hands, a low chuckle in his voice. “I told you to use a smaller dose. It lasts too long. She can’t handle it.” 1 “Look at you… so beautiful…” The large hand resting on my collarbone was elegant and long-fingered. But I couldn’t see his face. “Eva, wake up!” A voice yanked me from my sleep. My roommate, Jade, was sitting on the edge of my bed, her face etched with worry. She touched my forehead, which was slick with sweat. “Eva, are you running a fever? Your face is so red. Should we go to the clinic?” I was lying in my small dorm bed, drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs. My whole body ached. “I’m… fine,” I croaked, my voice hoarse. The clock on the wall ticked rhythmically. I flexed my wrist, a phantom pain from the dream lingering with unsettling reality. Right before Jade woke me, those two men had been discussing how to tie my hands and suspend me in front of a full-length mirror… 2 This was the fourth time this week. Ever since moving into this dorm room, the dreams had become a nightly occurrence. Two men, their faces always obscured. One seemed older, with a calm, warm demeanor. His fingers were long, an expensive watch circling his wrist. His voice was so smooth it could make your legs go weak. A wolf in gentleman’s clothing. The other was younger. Though he always spoke with a smile, he was the aggressive one, showing me no mercy. They both said they were my boyfriend. And they seemed determined to wear me out. Every morning, I woke up feeling sore and battered, sometimes having to grip the bedpost just to steady myself as I stood up. “Eva, we’re going to be late for anatomy lab. You coming?” Jade, clutching her textbook, broke through my thoughts. I’m a medical student, a staunch atheist. I dismissed the strange dreams as nothing more than academic stress. But I couldn’t tell Jade. She was so delicate; she’d hide in a corner during a horror movie. This wasn’t something I could share. 3 Friday afternoon. The anatomy lab was packed. Jade had already saved us seats in the front row. “Eva, where are you going?” she called out from the crowd. Lost in thought about the dreams, I’d walked right past her. The flow of students was thick. As I tried to back up, carrying my books, someone tripped me from behind. I felt myself falling, books and all. Suddenly, a strong, firm hand was on the small of my back, searingly hot. A gentle push was all it took to stop my fall. “Careful. Wouldn’t want you to get soaked.” The low, lazy chuckle sent a shiver down my spine, weakening my knees. It was the same voice that had teased me countless times in my dreams. This had to be a nightmare. Jade was mouthing something at the person behind me—Senior. I slowly turned my head. It was Adrian, a PhD student a few years ahead of us, currently serving as the TA for our anatomy class. He stood behind me, his head tilted slightly, his handsome features framed by a sweep of dark lashes. Beneath them, his dark eyes danced with amusement. “Need a hand?” A nervous sweat broke out on my skin. I scrambled back. “No… no, thank you, Adrian.” His gaze lingered on my face for a second before he smiled. “Take your seat, class is about to start.” I’d never spoken to him before. He was one of the most popular guys on campus, constantly surrounded by admirers, but he’d never been known to have a girlfriend. Rumor had it his tastes were… unconventional. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, slicing into golden shafts around Adrian as he stood at the front of the lab. Dressed in a white coat, he looked almost godlike. He had already pulled on a pair of white latex gloves and picked up a scalpel. The material fit his skin like a second layer as his fingers moved deftly through flesh and tissue. Jade squeezed my hand, her voice a shy whisper. “Eva, did you know? Adrian’s dissection skills are famous.” She spoke a little too loudly. Adrian seemed to hear her and glanced over, a faint smile on his lips. His light-colored eyes met mine, but there was no warmth in them—only a calculating, analytical gaze that sent an inexplicable chill up my spine. I instinctively shrank closer to Jade. At the front, Adrian’s fingers moved with fluid, efficient grace. His cool voice echoed through the lecture hall as he began to explain the day’s lesson. I couldn’t help but be pulled back into the dream—where he used that same skillful touch, that same effortless control, to play with you until you broke down and begged… I was losing my mind. I needed to see a doctor. The moment class ended, I ignored Jade’s calls, packed my books, and fled. 4 The university health center was just south of the main campus, not a long walk. Friday afternoons were always the busiest. I checked in with the psychiatry department and waited for my name to be called. The consultation room was quiet. The warm glow of the setting sun streamed through the window. The only sound was the mechanical click of a computer mouse. My eyes were drawn to a pale, elegant hand resting on it. A watch on the wrist caught the light, glinting brightly. Backlit as he was, I could only make out the blurred profile of his face and the sharp silhouette of his broad shoulders and narrow waist. This was Dr. Smith Croft, the university’s renowned psychology professor. He was young, but he had both a brilliant academic mind and a captivating appearance. He radiated an aura of cool, scholarly restraint. “What seems to be the trouble?” he asked softly. My heart skipped a beat. The voice, smooth enough to melt your resolve, flowed into my ears on the quiet afternoon air. My mind flashed to the dream, to the hand that had pinned me against the mirror, to the voice that had laughed and told me to watch… I really was going crazy. Everyone was starting to look like the men from my dreams. “Miss? Are you listening?” Dr. Croft’s gentle gaze peered over the top of his glasses, pulling me back to reality. I licked my dry lips and noticed he wasn’t writing notes. He was leaning back, arms crossed, waiting patiently for me to speak. “I’m sorry, yes. I’m listening,” I said, sitting up straight like a chastised child. It felt like even looking at him for too long was some kind of sacrilege. “Don’t be nervous. Just tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was a rich, soothing balm that instantly calmed my frayed nerves. I nodded, stammering, “I’ve been having… nightmares. For a week now…” As I said it, I felt a hot blush creep up my neck. Dr. Croft’s expression grew serious. “Nightmares? Can you give me any details?” I was at a loss for words. “Well… not exactly nightmares… more like… being teased…” A flicker of surprise crossed Dr. Croft’s cool eyes. He tapped a pen against his desk in a steady, rhythmic beat. He seemed intrigued, leaning forward slightly. “I see… And what do you think is causing this?” I wrung my hands together. “Maybe… just too much stress. It’s affecting my sleep.” “Are you tired when you wake up?” His voice was so gentle, it was easy to follow his line of questioning. “Yes, Doctor. I… I’m exhausted.” He gave a knowing smile and scribbled something on a notepad. “It’s just stress. Don’t worry. I’ll prescribe you something. Take it as directed. It will help you fall asleep early.” A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank you, Doctor.” I hoped the medication would finally put an end to these mortifying nights. 5 That evening, I sat at my desk and took out the sleeping pills. Jade watched me, her expression hesitant. “Did you… did you go see Dr. Croft today?” “How did you know?” “No reason.” Her eyes seemed to dim. She handed me a glass of sweet-tasting water. “By the way, Eva, I think Adrian is a really great guy. Don’t you?” Great? Maybe. I took the pill with the water Jade gave me. The effects were almost immediate. A heavy drowsiness washed over me, pulling me into a fog. I thought I would finally get a peaceful night’s sleep. But— The dream returned. The same two men. A cool voice spoke first. “…She’s not feeling well today. Take it easy on her.” The scene was bright, blinding. My mind conjured an image of Adrian, but I had no strength to call out his name. Then, the low chuckle of the older man, soothing and close to my ear. “Hush, it’s just a routine check-up. We won’t hurt you.” I mumbled a response, struggling against the invisible bonds of sleep, but I couldn’t wake up. The air was thick with a strange mixture of scents. Pine, citrus, and antiseptic. Their two scents, blended together. Oh god, I thought. Even in my dreams, they’re making me study for exams. “So cute,” the other man whispered, then leaned down and kissed me. Panic surged. I fought back with all my might. Suddenly, a sharp pain on my lip, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. I let out a muffled groan, nearly choking. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like a fish out of water, my mouth opening and closing uselessly. A hand cradled the back of my head, and a palm patted my cheek. “Eva, breathe. You’re going to suffocate yourself—” Adrian’s voice was laced with a weary amusement. “I told you to use a smaller dose. It lasts too long. She can’t handle it.” … Thud. A loud crash shattered the dream. I woke up to find myself sitting on the floor of my dorm room. I’d knocked over the basin of water I kept by my bed. Jade’s sleepy voice drifted down from her bunk. “It’s Saturday, Eva. What are you doing up so early…?” “Sorry…” I mumbled, feeling utterly drained, as if I’d just run a marathon. It hit me then. I’d dreamed again. The symptoms hadn’t just failed to improve; they’d gotten worse. The dream had been longer. I gripped the bed frame, my entire body shaking. A profound weakness, originating from the very core of my being, made it a struggle to even stand. After a few minutes, I managed to pull myself up and get a glass of water. The moment the cool liquid touched my lips, a sharp, stinging pain made me wince. It hurts… I stumbled into the bathroom. In the mirror, a girl in a simple cotton slip nightgown stared back, her hair a mess, her cheeks flushed. And on her lower lip was a tiny, broken wound. A bite mark? It was real? My hands trembled as I lifted my wrist. There, on the tender skin of my inner wrist, were faint, pinkish marks… My reflection’s eyes widened in disbelief, the color draining from her face. Was any of this… really just a dream? 6 I was trapped in a spiral of self-doubt. Was I losing my mind, or was something else going on? “Eva, what are you thinking about?” Jade’s voice broke my concentration. “We have that elective today. The professor takes attendance.” I envied her so much. She got to sleep soundly every night. Ten minutes later, I dragged my exhausted body into the lecture hall. My back and legs ached like an old woman’s. As expected, we were late. “The students who are late, please take a seat in the front.” I had just sat down when the voice from the front of the room reached me. I looked up… it was Adrian. He was leaning against the lectern, a placid smile on his face. But the classroom was dead silent. He had, after all, failed half the class in this elective last semester. Steeling myself, I walked with Jade to the front row. Adrian didn’t call me out directly, but when he got to my name during roll call, he paused. “Eva. Why were you late today?” My voice was barely a whisper. “I… overslept.” “Oh? And what were you doing last night?” I choked. “Exercising.” Adrian suddenly grinned. “As I understand it, for exercise to be effective, you have to be consistent. Perhaps you… need more practice.” My face burned. “Okay…” He didn’t bother me for the rest of the class. Jade rested her chin on her hand and whispered, “Adrian is so disciplined and has such a bright future. If I were you, I’d be ecstatic.” Something about that felt wrong. “Why would I be ecstatic?” As far as anyone knew, Adrian and I were complete strangers. Why was she talking as if he liked me? She faltered, fiddling with her pen. “Oh, you’re missing the point…” 7 After class, I packed my books, eager to get back and catch up on sleep. “Eva, come here. I have something for you,” Adrian called from behind me. His voice was cool and businesslike. I hesitated for a moment before walking back. He pulled a black bag out from under the lectern. “For you.” “What is it?” “A heat patch,” he said, gathering his notes. “For muscle strains from… exercise. This will help it heal faster.” “…” He glanced at me. “Jade told me. She’s studying under my advisor now, so she’s my ‘little sister’ in the lab.” “Oh… I see.” I felt a pang of shame for my wild assumptions. No wonder Jade had been acting so strange. She must have misinterpreted Adrian’s odd behavior as interest in me and was trying to set us up. 8 I bought Jade some snacks on the way back to the dorm that day. She was sitting at her computer, busy with something. I crept up behind her, planning to surprise her. But when I saw what was on her screen, the smile froze on my face. She was researching… knots. All kinds of intricate knots, the kind designed to bind someone completely. Hearing me, Jade turned, saw me, and slammed her laptop shut as if she’d been caught. “Eva! You’re back!” She looked flustered, her eyes darting away from mine. My mind was a chaotic mess. I mechanically tossed the snacks into her lap. “Bought these for you.” Jade casually pushed the snacks aside and took my hand. “Thank you…” She was always polite, but this time, her touch made my skin crawl. “What… what were you looking at?” She blinked. “Oh, just practicing knots. The surgery professor just taught us some. I wanted to get some extra practice.” “Really?” I struggled to keep my voice even. The knots on her screen were nothing like the surgical knots we had been taught. Jade linked her arm through mine, changing the subject. “I’m starving. Come eat with me, Eva.” I watched her back with a complex expression, a terrifying thought taking root in my mind. Maybe my dreams were just my imagination. But the physical marks… Jade was the one leaving them. The thought was so horrifying I couldn’t stand the idea of sharing a room with her any longer. That evening, I submitted a request to my advisor to change dorms. She said the earliest she could get me an answer was next Wednesday, which meant I had to spend two or three more nights in that room with Jade. Before bed, she handed me her usual glass of honey water. I poured it down the sink while she was in the bathroom. The night deepened. I lay in the dark, tense and on high alert. Eventually, sheer exhaustion won, and I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes again, it was morning. Jade was already dressed, her dark hair falling smoothly down her back. She spoke in her usual gentle tone. “Eva, I’m going to the cafeteria. Do you want me to bring you anything?” It was the first good night’s sleep I’d had in what felt like forever. “No, thanks.” I lay there, staring at the ceiling, and quietly breathed a sigh of relief. I had found the problem. Jade had been drugging me. As long as I was careful, I would be fine. For the next few nights, I avoided her honey water and slept soundly. Jade seemed to notice. She would look at me with apologetic eyes and kept buying me snacks as a form of “penance.” Some things were better left unsaid. My only option was to wait for my advisor’s notice. 9 The day before I was scheduled to move, I went to the clinic for a follow-up. I wanted to thank Dr. Croft and ask for advice on managing mild anxiety. At the entrance, I ran into Mark, the head of the student union. He’d been pursuing me for a while, and despite my repeated rejections, he was persistent. “Eva, fancy seeing you here! Are you sick?” he asked with a wide grin. It was a little awkward. “Yeah, I have an appointment with the psych department.” He looked surprised. “Stressed from studying? Don’t worry, I’ll go with you.” Before I could protest, he was already dragging me upstairs. The psych department was less crowded today. After a quick word with the nurse at the desk, he pushed open the door to Dr. Croft’s office. “Dr. Croft, I have a friend here to see you—” His words died in his throat. Inside the bright office, Dr. Croft was sitting leisurely in his chair, legs crossed. Adrian was leaning against the window, hands in his pockets. They both turned at the sound. Backlit by the window, I couldn’t see their expressions, but a prickling sensation crawled up my spine, as if I were being watched by predators. Mark scratched his head. “Sorry, the nurse said you didn’t have a patient, so I just—” “What are you to Eva?” Adrian cut him off, his tone flat. Mark grinned good-naturedly. “I’m pursuing her.” The room fell silent. Dr. Croft laced his fingers together and let out a soft, almost mocking laugh. Adrian took his hands out of his pockets and stood up straight. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. My face flushed. “Don’t… don’t say things like that…” Mark gave me a little push into the room. “Well, I’ve got to run. See you later!” Bang. The door closed, leaving the three of us alone. I had no idea they knew each other. “I’m sorry, I’ll… I’ll just go—” Adrian started walking towards me. I stumbled back a few steps as he closed the distance, blocking the light. His dark eyes held a shallow smile as he reached past me. I heard a soft click. The door was locked. The next thing I heard was his cold laugh. “Smith, so this was your brilliant idea? Give her a few days off, and she finds herself a new man.” My mind went blank. The blood drained from my face. Smith stood up, positioning himself between me and Adrian. He took off his watch, his voice as smooth as ever. “As an apology, then. You can go first.” 10 As dusk settled, the hospital’s noise began to fade. Adrian’s hand clamped around the back of my neck, and he mercilessly crushed his lips against mine. The scent of citrus flooded my senses. The last rays of sun reflected in my panicked eyes, but they didn’t seem to notice. Smith wrapped his arms around me from behind, his fingers gently tracing the nape of my neck. “What are you afraid of? It’s not your first time, is it?” My thoughts were a tangled mess. How had my life come to this? Smith lightly squeezed my reddened ear. “I was going to give you a break, but you’re just too eye-catching.” “What does it matter to you if someone likes me?” Adrian rubbed my swollen lips with his thumb and chuckled. “See? She doesn’t even know what she did wrong.” He took my limp body from Smith, one arm supporting my waist. “Where’s the break room?” Smith crossed his arms. “Small door on the right.” “What are you going to do?” “Isn’t it obvious? We’re going to enjoy the main course.” Smith stayed outside. I was dragged into a dim lounge. The air smelled faintly of pine. Dr. Croft’s staff ID was on the nightstand; this was his private space. Adrian tossed me onto the bed. I scrambled forward, but he grabbed my ankle and dragged me back. “Where do you think you’re going?” Sweat beaded on my forehead. “No… I… I’m not feeling well—” “Stop pretending,” he laughed softly. “I did your physical exam, remember? I know everything about you.” In my panic, I kicked out, my foot connecting with a sensitive area. He grunted, his grip tightening. “Eva, even if you broke me, I wouldn’t let you go.” He trapped me, his lips gently brushing my forehead. The power disparity was too great; my struggles were nothing to him. So it wasn’t a dream. Jade was his accomplice. As his familiar touch sent shivers of despair through me, I heard a nurse’s voice from outside the door. My head snapped up. “Help—mmph—” Adrian’s hand shot out, pulling me into the shadows. “You little brat. Who do you think is going to save you?” “Excuse me, Dr. Croft? Is someone in there?” “Yes. A new kitten I just got.” “Oh, we love kittens! Can we see?” Smith’s polite refusal came through the door. “I’m sorry, she’s too small. Not ready for visitors. I’m afraid she’ll get sick.” I had struggled so much I was drenched in sweat. I lay there like a dead fish, all hope gone. The world was ending. Suddenly, the glass door was pushed open. A sliver of light cut across the closed blinds. Smith stood in the doorway, his tone mild. “Not today, I’m afraid. We’ll have to find another place.” Adrian hissed. “Smith, are you serious?” He pushed himself up and saw Smith leaning against the doorframe, shamelessly looking me over. Adrian grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around me, then used a tissue to wipe the sweat from my face. Smith chuckled. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before. What are you hiding?” I cleared my throat, swallowing the raspiness. “Can… can I go now?” They both looked at me with mocking smiles, as if I’d asked the stupidest question in the world. A few minutes later, I was sandwiched between them, walking past the nurses’ station, my face burning. “Oh, Doctor, does this young lady need some help?” The hand hidden under Adrian’s coat tightened its grip, and my whole body went rigid. I shook my head violently. “No… I don’t. Thank you.” Adrian laughed. “That was a close one. You wouldn’t want to cause a scene, would you, Eva?”

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Foul sounds seeped from the girls’ bathroom, but I walked away. Inside was Quinn, my childhood friend, drugged and feebly resisting the principal’s son. In my past life, I intervened—a “heroic” act that doomed my family. Quinn shredded my uniform, scratched my neck, and a viral video branded me a “trash ruled by his dick.” The real culprit walked free. Quinn then pretended to love me, and I fell for it. Our decade-long marriage was hell; she drugged me, driving me to schizophrenia. On my deathbed, I learned the truth. She framed my father for tax evasion, landing him in prison. My mother died from the shock. Quinn appeared with her lover, sneering, “If not for you, we’d have been together sooner.” I died with regret. Then I reopened my eyes—back to that day in the hallway. 1 The campus was quiet after school, so still I could hear the buzz of the cicadas. I let out a long breath, fighting to suppress the suffocating fear of my family’s destruction. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nathan holding out a bottle of water to Quinn. Quinn. The girl I’d known my whole life. That water was spiked—laced with a drug that would make her lose all control. In my last life, I exposed him right then and there. Quinn didn’t believe me. She thought I was just jealous that Nathan was more popular than I was, that I was trying to start trouble. This time, I chose to be a cold observer. Quinn took the water, her eyes flicking towards me. “What’s with that look? Are you going to police me for drinking a bottle of water?” “It’s none of my business.” I looked away. Seeing his chance, Nathan chimed in with a smirk. “Kael, you’re a little overprotective of Quinn, don’t you think? Anyone would think she’s your girlfriend.” A few other students were still in the classroom. They shot me strange looks. Quinn’s face fell, her eyes filled with scorn. “Who’d be his girlfriend? I’d never go for a boring nerd who only knows how to study!” A tidal wave of hatred churned in my chest. I snapped my head up, meeting her gaze. “As if I’d ever be interested in you, Quinn.” She froze, speechless, but her eyes were already welling with tears. Nathan seized the opportunity to mock me. “Still trying to act tough? Everyone here knows you’re obsessed with her.” “I just said a few words to Quinn, and your face soured like that. Pathetic. You look like a clown.” His words ignited Quinn’s fury. She always felt it was embarrassing to be associated with a bookworm like me. She shot me a venomous glare and, as if to spite me, chugged the entire bottle of water. I tightened my grip on my pen, a dark glint in my eyes, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smile. Last time, because of my interference, she only had a sip. But even that was enough to make her lose her mind, desperate for release. Now, she’d finished the whole bottle… A flicker of anticipation sparked within me. I even glanced at Nathan with something that could almost be described as approval. It takes a monster to deal with a monster. I noticed the triumphant gleam in Nathan’s eyes. He put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Quinn, you don’t look so good. Let me take you home.” She agreed with a bashful blush. About ten minutes later, Leo, the class president, burst into the classroom, his face flushed. I was the only one left. He was frantic, muttering, “The bathroom… the bathroom…” but couldn’t get the words out. I played dumb. “Something wrong in the bathroom? It’s not Quinn, is it?” Leo grabbed my arm, his hand shaking. “Yes, it’s Quinn! And… and Nathan!” “Those two?” My eyes were wide with innocent confusion, as if I knew nothing. There was a time I considered Leo my best friend. He was my desk-mate for all three years of high school; we never ran out of things to talk about. But after everything went down in my last life, he was the first one to climb over my broken body. He told everyone I was the one with the twisted mind, that my unrequited love for Quinn drove me to drug her, hoping to force the situation. He even went live on social media right after I gave my statement to the police. During the stream, he fabricated a mountain of lies out of thin air: [“I’m heartbroken by this news. I sat next to him for three years, and I knew he had a crush on Quinn, but I never thought he would…”] [“Kael is a total creep, he follows girls home at night.”] [“I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen. He even hits on young widows whose husbands just died…”] That livestream caused a massive uproar. I was publicly crucified. The school used it as an excuse to kick me out. Years later, at a class reunion, Leo was a successful man, holding a high-ranking position. Drunk, he boasted: [“It’s a good thing you screwed up back then. Otherwise, how would that full scholarship to Yale have ever gone to me?”] The memory made my gaze on Leo turn ice-cold. Last time, I went. Leo told me to go in and stop them while he got help. But what he really did was hide, record everything, and call the police, watching with glee as I fell into his trap. Seeing my lack of urgency, Leo grew desperate. “It’s Quinn… Nathan dragged her into the bathroom! She was fighting back… he’s forcing her.” “Are you so sure? Everyone knows they have a thing for each other. Maybe it’s just a couple having some fun,” I said with a half-smile. It was no secret that Quinn and Nathan were close, just one step away from making it official. My words made Leo grab my wrist tighter. “No! We’re still in high school! They can’t do that! Come on, we have to check on them, we have to stop them!” The calculation in his eyes was barely concealed. He was dying for me to rush in there and seal my own doom, so he could snatch that scholarship. I nodded and followed him downstairs. On the way, I took out my phone and quietly sent a pre-written text. The recipients were a few local influencers who happened to be livestreaming nearby. 2 This time, I was going to blow this thing wide open. Nathan was the principal’s only, precious son. I still remembered the look of disgust on the principal’s face when he expelled me in my last life. I’ve always been a helpful person. I wanted our dear principal to witness his son’s “prowess” firsthand. The closer we got to the bathroom, the clearer the lewd sounds from within became. It was utterly filthy. “Do you like it, Quinn?” Nathan’s panting voice drifted out. “I like it.” Quinn’s voice was devoid of reason, driven purely by instinctual desire. Leo’s eyes darted around. He lowered his voice. “Kael, it sounds like she’s not in her right mind. You go in and stall them. I’ll get help.” I smirked. The exact same words as last time. I feigned reluctance. “I don’t know… it’s the girls’ bathroom. If I just barge in, what if it’s a misunderstanding…?” “Are you kidding me?!” Leo glared, his eyes practically bugging out. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me, feigning exasperation. “Can you stop being such a coward? Any later and it’ll be too late! Are you just going to stand by and watch her get ruined by him?” The bathroom door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I could see the scene unfolding inside. Quinn’s clothes were torn and disheveled, pulled down to her waist. She was clinging to Nathan like a boneless heap of mud. Nathan’s eyes were filled with lust as he slammed her against the wall. He still had the gall to ask, “Are you sure you want this? Don’t regret it, Quinn.” “Give it to me, give it to me now…” Quinn sounded like the world’s most shameless prostitute, begging for it. Nathan pretended to be helpless, but his eyes were gleaming with triumph. … I answered meekly, “Alright, then. You go get a teacher, quickly. I’ll try to keep things under control.” As I was about to push the door open, I turned back to remind him, “You have to hurry!” Leo nodded vigorously and took off running. After he left, I dropped my hand from the door. I knew he hadn’t gone far. Sure enough, five minutes later, Leo’s sneaky figure reappeared. He had circled back. I watched from the shadows as he took out his phone and slipped it through the crack in the door… The two inside grew bolder, completely lost to the world. Having done his part, Leo left, satisfied. Before long, he returned, leading a large crowd towards the building. The noises from inside hadn’t subsided. Leo covered his mouth, feigning shock and helplessness as he stopped the principal. “Principal, I… I really… I don’t know how this could have happened. But as class president, I couldn’t just ignore it.” The principal was practically fuming. He didn’t know his own son was the male lead in this drama; Leo had been deliberately vague. I knew that, in Leo’s perfect world, both Nathan and I would be ruined. We were his main competitors. Normally, the principal would have sent security in to drag them out. But today, of all days, officials from the district were on campus for an inspection, and they hadn’t left yet. So a group of administrators ended up coming along to “catch them in the act.” The scene was, to put it mildly, spectacular. The principal’s chest heaved with rage. His promotion was likely going up in smoke. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, wanting to storm in and tear the degenerates inside to pieces. Just as he was about to move, Leo feebly tried to stop him. “Don’t go, inside… it’s… that person is…” “I don’t care who it is! No one is walking away from this today!” the principal roared. Leo gave up, a look of disappointment on his face. “It’s Kael. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen.” The principal knew me, of course. I was first in my class every single exam, the school’s best hope for Yale. His eyes went wide, spittle flying from his mouth. “That bast—” He swallowed the word. With the district officials present, he had to maintain some decorum. The noises from inside continued, getting even more intense. Leo covered his face and pretended to cry. “Kael, how could you? I know you have a sex addiction, but you can’t just…” His words made the faces in the crowd turn even darker. The officials exchanged glances and sighed. Just then, I emerged from the back of the crowd, a confused look on my face. “Me? What did I do?” 3 “Kael! What are you doing here?!” Leo looked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, every hair on his body standing on end. The principal looked me up and down, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not you? Then who is in there?” “I don’t know. I didn’t see.” I shrugged, my face a mask of innocence. Of course, I wasn’t going to reveal the truth just yet. At that moment, the influencers who had received my text slipped through a gap in the school fence. “Well, well, I thought it was a prank, but it looks like some real action is going down in broad daylight.” “You folks must be the teachers, right? Why don’t you give our viewers a little show?” “Hey, you there, teacher, tell us: what’s going on with your students? Is the tap water in this school spiked with Viagra or something?” I hid in the crowd, trying to stifle a laugh. The water was spiked. The principal’s face was as black as soot. He turned away in disgust. Leo stared daggers at me. He rushed over, grabbed my arm, and hissed, “Why didn’t you go in?” “Huh? I was scared. It’s too X-rated in there. I’m a good student, you know.” My words made Leo so angry he raised his fist to punch me. But the influencer’s camera swung our way at that exact moment. Leo reluctantly lowered his hand, his eyes filled with venom. The streamer cheerfully panned his camera around. The chat was flying. [Bro, this is wild.] [You can tell from the sounds alone how shameless they are.] [Streamer, rush in there! We’re all ready for it.] The streamer looked tempted but then said apologetically, “I can’t do that, guys. My channel would get banned instantly.” The district officials looked extremely uncomfortable. One of them cleared his throat. “Lin, we can’t all just stand here. You should go in and assess the situation.” The principal, Mr. Lin, nodded through gritted teeth. His face was a grim shade of purple as he rolled up his sleeves, ready to charge. As he took a step, I rushed forward to block him. “Principal, don’t go! The student inside… has a special identity. If this gets any bigger, it will be embarrassing for everyone.” My words were loaded. The influencers perked up. “Ooh, what’s this? Is it one of the school administrators’ kids? Talk about abusing power.” This made the officials even angrier. One or two of them had already turned and left in a huff. My prodding had put the principal in an impossible position. He shoved me aside angrily. “Get out of my way! I don’t care who it is today, I’m dealing with it!” Leo took the opportunity to sidle up. “Kael, just let him go. Are you saying you knew what was happening all along?” He was trying to drag me down with them. I didn’t rush to defend myself. “Leo, I just think it’s a shame. We’re all classmates. If this gets out, their lives will be ruined…” The tone in the livestream chat began to shift. [This kid seems pretty decent.] [Hey, stop blocking! Students like that aren’t worth protecting.] [Doesn’t that class president guy sound a little sketchy?] The district officials exchanged glances and sighed. It wouldn’t look good for a group of them to barge in on camera. If the students inside did something drastic because of the publicity, no one wanted to take responsibility for that. So we all stood there, in a tense stalemate. The sounds from the bathroom continued intermittently. The influencers were stopped from getting any closer. This “adulterous drama” went on for nearly two hours. Finally, the bathroom door creaked open from the inside. The first person to walk out was a burly man in a construction worker’s uniform. He froze when he saw the crowd. Then he spat on the ground. “What are you looking at? Never seen a man take a piss before?” The principal and the other officials visibly relaxed. As long as it wasn’t a student, the situation was salvageable. But in the next second, someone gasped. “Holy crap, the scene inside is insane!”

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