I was thirty-two when I picked up my first broke college boy. I was driving past the university when I saw him, Leo, holding a girl in his arms. His eyes were red-rimmed, a portrait of wounded pride. “Please,” he choked out, “don’t think I’m dirty…” It was a straightforward arrangement. A business transaction. So why did he make it sound like I was the one corrupting him? If he felt so dirty, there were plenty of others who wouldn’t. I took a long drag from my cigarette and blew the smoke out the window. My eyes landed on a blond kid swaggering down the sidewalk, decked out in head-to-toe knockoffs. I nodded towards him. “Ask that one,” I told my driver, “if he’s interested in a sugar momma.” 1 Eason was in my office by the afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the thirty-second floor, glinting off his Balenciaga t-shirt, his Yohji Yamamoto pants, and his Louis Vuitton sneakers. Fake. Fake. And fake. But damn, if he didn’t have a pretty face. He was nothing like Leo, who had that cold, clean-cut look, an air of untouchable pride. Eason was more like something manufactured, a walking plastic surgery template. Exquisite, cheap, and with a hustler’s glint in his eye. But I’d had my fill of fine dining. Tonight, I was in the mood for some greasy takeout. They were both selling themselves, so why bother with the one who acted like he was above it all? The moment he opened his mouth, I knew I’d made the right choice. “Heard you were looking to adopt?” He grinned. “Should I call you Mom right now?” He caught on fast. A little too fast. But I wasn’t into that kind of roleplay. I could already see the entire trajectory of our relationship flashing before my eyes. Today, he’d have me launch his career. Tomorrow, he’d be begging for a leading role. The day after, our arrangement would leak, and he’d be on his knees, pleading for me to bury the scandal. Perfect. This was exactly what I wanted. I ignored him, flipping through the file my assistant, Ms. Evans, had prepared. He was from some forgotten town in the middle of nowhere. Family wasn’t poor, certainly better off than Leo’s alcoholic father and gambling-addict mother. His grades were average, a far cry from Leo’s scholarships. But he was a good two inches taller than Leo. I glanced up at him. He beamed at me, a perfect eight-tooth smile. He was handsome, no doubt, but the fawning was a little much. I pursed my lips, a flicker of distaste crossing my features. “How many? Men or women?” Eason’s expression didn’t change. Not a hint of shame or offense. “Just you, boss!” Bullshit. “Ms. Evans will take you to a clinic for a full check-up,” I said flatly. “If you’re clean, be here in a week.” “You got it, boss.” He practically skipped out of my office. As he turned, I caught a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted ass. I wondered for a moment if he was wearing pads. 2 A week later, Eason hadn’t shown up yet, but Leo did. He was wearing his usual uniform: a shirt washed to a faded gray, worn-out jeans, and canvas sneakers. Clean-cut and handsome, the very picture of the noble, struggling student. He’d gotten off the bus. Couldn’t even be bothered to splurge on a cab. It really made me wonder where the thirty thousand dollars I gave him every month went. Don’t get me wrong. He wasn’t here to see me. I was usually the one who went to him. He was working his part-time job at the coffee shop on the ground floor of my building. As usual, his looks were already attracting a giggling girl asking for his number. Leo turned her down, saying he already had someone he liked. Back in the day, I might have been arrogant enough to think he meant me. I was beautiful, rich, and generous—emphasis on the last one. Not liking me was like not liking money. It wasn’t like I was asking him to love me ’til death do us part. We were adults. After everything I’d given him, a little display of affection wasn’t too much to ask. Anything less was just having his cake and eating it too. I walked in and found a seat, but Leo didn’t notice me. Just then, a meticulously dressed girl walked in. The moment Leo saw her, he froze. She wore a chic tweed suit and a Miu Miu clip in her hair, projecting an unmistakable old-money vibe. I hadn’t gotten a good look at her that day at the university. Now, I saw her face clearly. I mentally scrolled through the city’s upper crust but couldn’t place her. While my mind was wandering, Leo’s face had turned a deep shade of crimson. I heard him ask, his voice barely a whisper, “Are you here… for me?” The girl lifted her chin. “No. I just heard the coffee here was good.” If Leo had a tail, it would have been drooping on the floor. “Well, recommend something,” she said. He immediately launched into a detailed explanation of every coffee on the menu, describing the origin of the beans and the flavor profiles with painstaking care. The people in line behind her grew impatient and left. The girl, however, seemed to be listening to none of it, finally pointing to the house special. Leo, ever attentive, explained how to drink it, warning her it was a bit bitter. He was a completely different person from the man I knew—so humble he was practically bowing. I wasn’t angry. Just… confused. Why wasn’t he like this with me? I was the one signing his checks. A moment later, it hit me, and I let out a soft laugh. He seemed to believe that his youth and my thirty grand a month—plus the condo and countless gifts—was an equal exchange. The men in my family have a tradition of keeping lovers. I’d seen it all: college girls, starlets, professionals. Just last month, my uncle nearly had a baby scare and paid three hundred thousand in severance. A sponsor as generous and easy on the eyes as me was a rare find. A willing exchange didn’t mean he wasn’t getting the better end of the deal. I used to spoil Leo, so I never sweated the small stuff. But he’d taken my money and stood me up multiple times, claiming he had to tutor, work his part-time job, or deal with student council or lab projects. I never got mad. I even had my housekeeper deliver homemade soup to him. Once, my father saw me arranging it and warned me, “Don’t get in too deep.” My indulgence seemed to have convinced everyone—including, at times, myself—that my feelings for him were something special. Ridiculous. Before I kicked my brother out of the country to take over as CEO, I’d never even been in a real relationship. Not that I ever wanted one. This was getting boring. I stood up and left the coffee shop. As I pushed the door open, the little bell above it chimed. From behind the counter, I thought I felt a pair of eyes on me. 3 That night, Eason arrived at my villa. To my surprise, his medical report was spotless. Clean, healthy, not a single issue. Unlike last time, he wasn’t covered in flashy, fake logos. He was dressed simply: a white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His hair, previously shellacked with gel, fell softly over his eyes. Ms. Evans had probably told him to copy Leo’s style. I frowned, but before I could say anything, he’d pulled his shirt off. A chiseled eight-pack, perfectly defined. I wondered if it was real. He chuckled. “Boss, you don’t like this look, do you?” he asked. “Me neither.” With a surprising familiarity, he stepped closer and plucked the hair tie from my wrist. I flinched, feeling for a second like I was being hit on by some street punk. But he just used it to pull his semi-long hair back into a small bun at the nape of his neck. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he added, “You hungry, boss? I can go down… and whip something up for you.” The breath I’d just released hitched in my throat. He saw my housekeeper leaving the kitchen with a trash bag and sighed dramatically. “Looks like you’ve already eaten.” I caught his meaning and hesitated. “You haven’t eaten, have you? Do you want…” Before I could finish, he chirped, “Thanks!” He even came up with an excuse. “Gotta fuel up so I can serve you better later.” “…” He proceeded to make and devour three bowls of noodles like a man starved. I glanced at his file again; he couldn’t be that broke, could he? “There’s steak in the fridge,” I offered. Eason shook his head. “No steak. I have to earn my keep before I get paid.” I understood. And for a moment, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. I’d definitely made the right call. I needed someone who was hungry for this, in every sense of the word. Thirty minutes later, I regretted everything. The clean scent of his body wash enveloped me. The initial awkwardness melted into a searing heat that left no room for thought. And Eason, ever the professional, made sure to provide emotional support. “Damn, boss, you’re gorgeous. I’m the one getting lucky here.” “Claudia… this is incredible.” I felt myself cheapen, like I’d just hired a farmhand for the night. The feeling lasted until the next morning. “Did you take something?” I asked, my voice hoarse with exhaustion. “What?” Eason blinked. “Oh! Yeah, I took ten. Just for you.” Right. He hadn’t taken anything. He was just bullshitting me to show what a diligent employee he was. Finally, at two in the afternoon, I dragged my aching body out of bed. I had a meeting I couldn’t postpone; I’d have to crawl to the office if necessary. As I was getting dressed, I heard Eason speak from the bed. “Boss,” he said, his voice soft. “Can you get me into acting?” 4 My fingers froze on the button of my blouse. I rolled my eyes, a practiced motion. “You’ve been here one night, and you’re already making demands…” “Ten times,” he corrected. “…That’s not the point.” My refusal seemed to deflate him. His doll-like face crumpled. He wrinkled his nose. “But, boss, you were the one who told me to stop.” His reading comprehension was astounding. If I hadn’t scouted him near the university, I’d have sworn he was illiterate. Wait. That didn’t mean he actually went there. “Are you a student at A.U.?” I asked. Eason shook his head honestly. “Nope.” I knew it. “In a couple of years, I’ll send you abroad to get a degree,” I said, dangling a vague, distant carrot. Eason looked like he wanted to say something but held back. “Boss… I don’t want to study.” I know, I know. You just want to be a star. I waved a dismissive hand, telling him to drop it. I had a meeting to get to. I slipped into the back of the car where Ms. Evans was waiting. Glancing back, I saw Eason leaning over the balcony, waving goodbye. A mess of blond hair, a face that was both pure and sinfully tempting. The sunlight caught him just right, making him look like some Grecian cupid. He also wasn’t wearing any pants. Bold. “Come back soon, boss!” he yelled. I pressed my fingers to my temples. I could never let anyone know I was keeping… this. “Ms. Evans,” I said, scanning a document, “send over some pieces from the spring collection for him.” He didn’t suit Leo’s clean-cut, boy-next-door look. And parading around in those fakes was an embarrassment to me. Ms. Evans hesitated for a beat before agreeing. After the meeting, after dealing with a pack of old corporate wolves, I collapsed into my office chair, utterly drained. Usually, it wasn’t this exhausting, but last night had taken its toll. The Rockefeller family was like most wealthy dynasties. My father and mother had a marriage of convenience; they had their own lives. They got along well enough, I suppose. Well enough to produce the three of us: my idiot older brother, my love-struck younger sister, and me, the perfect one. From birth, my life was a pre-written script. If I wanted more, I had to fight for it. I fought, and I won. But was this really what I wanted… “Boss.” A sudden chill ran up my spine. My moment of existential dread was interrupted by a blond head popping up from under my desk. “…What are you doing?” Eason planted a kiss on my thigh. I stared at him, my face a blank mask. For the first time, a faint blush colored his sculpted cheeks. He looked almost shy, but his next words were anything but. “I learned a new trick this afternoon. Heard it’s a favorite for CEOs and their assistants.” Such a dedicated, ambitious boy toy. Eason took my silence as consent. Outside, the clouds drifted lazily by, momentarily speechless. Was I keeping him, or was he keeping me? He was really, really serious about breaking into Hollywood. Three hours later, the intercom buzzed. It was Ms. Evans. “Ms. Rockefeller, Mr. Leo is here to see you.” 5 Well, I’ll be damned. Today was supposed to be my weekly meeting with Leo. His showing up wasn’t entirely unexpected, but he’d flaked on me so often, and besides, it was already eleven at night. I lit a cigarette. “I’m not available,” I told Ms. Evans. “Send him home.” There was a pause. “I told him that, Ms. Rockefeller. He insists on waiting until you’re finished with your work.” “He’s in the conference room next to your office now.” I frowned, about to say more, when a face leaned in and took a drag from the cigarette between my fingers. He immediately started choking, coughing like his lungs were trying to escape his chest. I hung up the phone. “Boss, you should quit smoking.” Just as I thought Eason was switching tactics to the caring, sensitive type, he added, “You should smoke cigars. You’d look way cooler.” The ash trembled and fell onto the marble floor. “Go home,” I said. “I have to deal with something.” Eason didn’t ask questions. He just got up and left. A moment later, Leo was shown in. Still in the white shirt and jeans. I was getting tired of the look. He stood before me, his tone accusatory. “Claudia, I was fired.” He seemed to assume I was the one who’d had the manager fire him. The coffee shop was mine, after all. He’d been “interning” there, a work-study gig that paid him fifty thousand a year. I raised an eyebrow. “And?” Leo’s face soured. He stood ramrod straight, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Did someone at the shop say something to you?” he snapped. “Hannah is just a classmate from my department! I was just doing my job! You can’t just fire me for no reason!” “You rich people are always so high and mighty—” “Then I’ll have them rehire you,” I cut in. Leo’s tirade stopped short. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so agreeable. “Oh. Well, then… that’s fine.” I smiled sweetly. “Same as the other interns. Fifteen bucks an hour. Interested?” Leo’s eyes widened as if I’d just slapped him. He was silent for a few seconds. “Claudia, stop messing around.” “I told you, there’s nothing going on between Hannah and me!” Frustration crept into his voice. I studied him, and for the first time, he seemed… coarse. Unrefined. His skin wasn’t as smooth as Eason’s, his eyes weren’t as bright, his lips weren’t as pink, his nose wasn’t as straight, his legs weren’t as long, his abs weren’t as hard… and his technique was terrible. Not that Eason was some master, but at least he was eager to learn. “Hannah?” The name was cute. I said it aloud, and Leo reacted as if I’d declared war. “Whatever you have planned, you direct it at me! She has nothing to do with this!” I found the whole thing hilarious. “And what, exactly, do you think I’m going to do to her?” I asked, my voice dripping with amusement. Suddenly, Leo’s gaze locked onto something over my shoulder. His expression went blank, all the fight draining out of him, my question completely forgotten. I followed his line of sight. There, on the plush designer sofa, lay a pair of Calvin Klein briefs. They had been lying there quietly, listening to our entire conversation. 6 It’s a well-known fact that when you’re utterly speechless, you laugh. Leo finally turned his gaze back to me, just in time to see the smile spreading across my face. A moment ago, he’d been keeping his distance as if I were contagious. Now, he stormed over to my desk. “Are you that desperate, Claudia?” he snarled. “Just because I didn’t see you for a month, you go and find that kind of man?” I wanted to say that Eason wasn’t that kind of man. But I couldn’t. He was exactly that kind of man. And then, Leo—the proud, struggling student who scorned the wealthy—actually had tears welling up in his eyes. “Do you have any idea how filthy guys like that are?” he shouted, his voice cracking. He reached for my wrist, more agitated than I had ever seen him. He seemed genuinely afraid I’d catch some disease. A glass on my desk toppled over, shattering on the floor. A knock came from the door. “Ms. Rockefeller?” Ms. Evans called out. “Do you need me to come in?” Leo was still ranting. “Claudia, you don’t have to debase yourself like this just to make me jealous…” “Come in,” I called out, my voice clear and steady. Ms. Evans entered, flanked by two bodyguards, each standing at a solid six-foot-three. They moved swiftly, positioning themselves between me and Leo, ready to intervene if he got violent. Leo stared at me in disbelief. I met his gaze with a half-smile. “Who gave you permission to speak to me like that?” Maybe I’d been too lenient as a sponsor. He seemed to have forgotten the nature of our relationship. The color drained from Leo’s face. He never imagined I would use such a tone with him. He pressed his lips together. “We’re equals…” I couldn’t be bothered to listen to that nonsense. “If we’re so equal, how come you’re not paying me thirty thousand dollars a month?” Leo was rendered speechless. I arched an eyebrow. “You took the money, now do the work. You failed on that front.” He looked at me as if he’d never heard me speak so bluntly, his eyes wide with shock. I had no more time for him. I stood up and walked away. Leo tried to follow, but the bodyguards blocked his path. As I left, I heard Ms. Evans behind me, calmly taking back the key card for my private elevator from him. “Mr. Leo,” she said, her voice professionally cool, “next time you wish to see Ms. Rockefeller, please make an appointment.”

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My father called me at my top-secret facility post and ordered me home for an arranged marriage. My fiancé was perfect on paper—handsome, successful, chairman of the region’s top corporation. Due to my security clearance, I couldn’t fly commercial. My commanding officer lent me his personal vehicle to help me make a good impression. I arrived at my fiancé’s headquarters on time. While backing into a parking spot, a red Ferrari screeched toward me. I hit it before I could brake. The driver, a smug-looking woman, rolled down her window and yelled, “Are your eyes in your ass? Do you even know how to drive?” I took a deep breath. “You cut me off and tried to steal my spot. How is this my fault?” She scoffed. “My spot? Listen, tramp—every cent that hits the ground in Port Sterling belongs to the Hale family. Got it?” I paused, then called my fiancé. “I hear the Hale family runs this city. Is that true?” 1 If it wasn’t for my father, I wouldn’t have even bothered to make the call. Crashing my CO’s car was a problem that money alone couldn’t fix. If my future husband showed a reasonable amount of remorse, I might be able to make this whole incident disappear. “I’m busy. Get to the point,” a clipped, impatient voice answered. “Mr. Hale, I think it would be in your best interest to come downstairs personally. Otherwise—” The line went dead. I stared at my phone. Are all rich people this arrogant? The woman in the Ferrari saw my stunned expression and burst out laughing. “And here I thought you were some big shot. Turns out you’re all talk. Just pay up. If Mr. Hale finds out his car’s been damaged, you won’t be leaving Port Sterling in one piece.” She glanced at my car’s out-of-state plates and my age, dismissing me completely. “Ma’am, are you even capable of rational thought?” I shot back. “You’re the one who illegally changed lanes and tried to steal my spot. I should be the one demanding compensation, yet here you are, trying to extort me.” I pointed to the security camera overhead. “That’s recording everything. You keep lying, and I’ll call the police.” At the mention of the police, she became even more belligerent. “Go ahead, little bitch! Call them! I guarantee you’ll just end up paying more.” Her voice grew louder, and the acrid smell of alcohol filled the air. My hand tightened into a fist. “The reason you don’t want me to call the police… is because you’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” Her response was to shove me hard. “What I drink is none of your damn business! Pay up! You try to skip out on this, and I’ll make sure you never leave this city!” I’d spent years in the service with minimal contact with civilians. I had no idea how to deal with a shrew like this. Her sheer audacity was starting to piss me off. “You hit my car and you’re blaming me? Are you insane?” Her accusation prompted a wave of murmurs from the gathering crowd. “Damn, that girl’s got guts. Yelling at Ms. Wright? She must have a death wish.” “That’s Mr. Hale’s car. Most people wouldn’t dare breathe on it, and she just crashed into it.” “She picked the wrong person to mess with. Wendy Wright is Mr. Hale’s right-hand woman!” The whispers seemed to inflate Ms. Wright’s ego. “You dare call me insane? You must be tired of living!” Her threats were laughable. “Ms. Wright, I suggest you watch your mouth. If you push me too far, not even your boss will be able to handle the consequences.” “Watch my ass!” she shrieked. Words failing her, she rolled up her sleeves and lunged at me. “What’s the matter? People in Port Sterling resort to violence when they lose an argument?” She swung at me wildly, but her slaps met nothing but air. “Stand still, you little bitch! Just wait ’til I call Mr. Hale!” Despite her repeated provocations, I didn’t retaliate. I just dodged. It wasn’t because I was afraid of her. Before I left, my CO had given me a direct order: “Your actions reflect on the unit. Do not engage in conflict with civilians.” Besides, I didn’t know how to “fight.” My training was a different matter entirely. I don’t throw punches. I end threats. One move. Seeing my non-aggression as weakness, she charged again, fist raised. In that split second, a furious voice roared from behind me. “Stop!” 2 “Wendy! You’re my personal assistant. What are you doing, brawling in the street?” A man, flanked by bodyguards, strode toward me. It had to be Damian Hale. “You’re Ivy?” he asked. I took him in. I had to admit, my father had good taste. He was tall, at least six-one, in a bespoke suit that screamed power and style. The only flaw was the icy contempt in his eyes as he looked at me. “Mr. Hale. A pleasure. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ivy, and I’m from—” “Don’t bother,” he cut me off with a wave of his hand. “We’re not compatible. Go back to wherever you came from.” For a second, I thought I’d misheard. I had just driven for over ten hours straight to get here. I hadn’t even had a sip of water. And he was dismissing me without a second thought? Was he playing me for a fool? My temper flared. “You must be Damian Hale, my father’s choice for a son-in-law,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Telling me to leave without even letting me finish a sentence is hardly polite, wouldn’t you say?” His expression soured. “Polite? Ms. Ivy, take a look at this building. Then take a look at yourself. Do you really think you’re in my league?” He scanned me from head to toe. “I don’t know what my father was thinking, setting me up with a gold-digging trophy wife like you.” The crowd erupted again. “What? She’s Mr. Hale’s fiancée? No way!” “A country bumpkin like her trying to marry into the Hale family? She should look in a mirror.” “Damian Hale is every woman’s dream in Port Sterling! I, for one, object to this marriage!” Their chatter was giving me a headache. When had I ever said I wanted to marry him? Even if I did, it would require approval from the highest levels of command. “Fine, fine. I’m a trophy wife, you’re the great tycoon, happy?” I said, my patience worn thin. “Since you’re not interested, can I have the dowry back, please? My mother specifically told me to get the money back if the engagement fell through.” My mother had said no such thing. I just couldn’t stand his arrogance. As I expected, Wendy Wright shot forward. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, you little bitch? Mr. Hale is the youngest self-made billionaire in the history of this city! You think he cares about your pocket change?” Now I truly understood the meaning of the word “sycophant.” “Ms. Wright, I’m simply asking for what is mine. His net worth is irrelevant.” My words made Damian’s face flush with anger. “It was eighty thousand, right? I’ll give it back.” He pulled out his phone and wired me the money. “Here’s a hundred thousand. The extra is for your travel expenses.” A small smile played on my lips. “Why, thank you so much, Mr. Hale.” I turned to leave, but Wendy’s shriek stopped me. “Hold it, you little bitch!” I paused, turning slowly. “What is it, Ms. Wright? Did you want to invite me to dinner?” She shot me a venomous smirk and whispered something in Damian’s ear. A second later, the so-called youngest billionaire in Port Sterling exploded with rage. “Ivy! You crashed my car?” 3 From Wendy’s triumphant expression, I could tell she’d spun a tale painting me as the villain. A classic case of deflecting blame. Given Damian’s attitude, I knew explaining would be a waste of breath. “Name your price,” I said flatly. “I’ll pay.” Damian seemed taken aback by my immediate admission. “Pay? Can you afford it? This Ferrari was an eighteenth birthday present from my father. It’s one of three in the world, the only one in this country. A single scratch is worth more than your life. What could you possibly pay with?” I arched an eyebrow, a cool smile on my face. “Just give me a number, Mr. Hale. Whether I can afford it is my business.” “Ten million!” Wendy screeched before he could answer. “The entire front end is dented. It can’t be repaired here; it has to be sent back to the factory in Italy.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. Even Damian looked surprised. “Wendy, the car only cost a little over ten million new. A bumper repair shouldn’t cost that much, should it?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Mr. Hale, you’re not seeing the bigger picture. This was a gift from your father. The sentimental value is immense, wouldn’t you agree? Ten million is a bargain, really. We’re practically doing her a favor.” Damian considered her words and nodded slowly. “Fine. Ten million it is.” I didn’t give them a chance to reconsider. “Done.” Every eye in the parking lot was on me. Some thought I was bluffing, others suspected I was more than I appeared, and the rest were just enjoying the show. Their opinions were irrelevant. What was relevant, however, was that my car was also damaged. While not as severe as the Ferrari, the rear bumper had several deep scratches. If it had been a standard production car, Wendy’s reckless maneuver would have totaled it. “Now that we’ve settled the matter of your car, Mr. Hale,” I said, my voice deceptively sweet, “shall we discuss mine?” My smile widened. “It’s a domestic model, so thankfully it won’t need to be shipped overseas for repairs.” My words were met with a fresh wave of derisive laughter. Wendy pointed a scornful finger at me. “Is this woman crazy? A domestic car? How much could that possibly be worth? I’ll buy you a new one, how about that?” “I can’t believe it. Showing up to meet your fiancé in a domestic car. How embarrassing.” My gaze swept over the crowd, my expression hardening. “Ladies and gentlemen, while my car may be domestic, it has a serial number. I suggest you call your grandparents and ask them what the name ‘Red Flag’ signifies in this country.”

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A new teacher started at my daughter’s preschool, and the parents’ WhatsApp group was buzzing with praise. Everyone said their kids had become polite, well-behaved, and less picky with food. But that night, my daughter Maya whispered a secret to me: “They’re only good because they’re afraid to die.” She said Duke was taken away and killed for sneaking chips during nap. “When he died, his mouth was stuffed with chips and his belly was bloated.” Her serious tone chilled me. I quickly messaged Duke’s mom, who lives nearby. 【Hey, heard about Duke… please take care.】 She replied instantly with a photo of Duke sitting nicely and eating quietly: 【What are you talking about? He’s been an angel lately!】 I felt relieved, then annoyed at Maya for the scary story—until she pointed at the photo: “That’s not Duke. He’s left-handed. Why is he using his right hand?” 1 My heart skipped a beat. I zoomed in on the photo. Duke was, indeed, expertly scooping food with his right hand. Our families lived in the same complex, our kids were in the same class; we knew each other well. Just last week, over dinner, his mom had been complaining to me. She was at her wit’s end, she’d said, because she couldn’t get him to stop using his left hand. And now, just a few days later, he was completely switched? I turned to my daughter, my voice firm. “Maya, I need you to tell me the truth. Were you joking before?” She blinked her big, innocent eyes. “I really saw Duke die, Mommy. I’m not lying.” Hearing such terrifying words from my own child’s mouth, I felt a deep, unsettling cold. I had raised Maya myself; I knew she wasn’t the type to make up cruel jokes. But if what she was saying was true… A thought occurred to me. A child Maya’s age doesn’t fully grasp the concept of death. Maybe what she called “death” was just seeing someone lying on the ground, still and with their eyes closed. I chose my words carefully. “Maya, honey, you know there’s a difference between being dead and being asleep, right?” She nodded without hesitation. “I’m not a baby, Mommy. My storybooks explained what death is. I get it.” The knot of anxiety in my chest tightened. “Okay, then tell me everything. How did you see Duke get taken? And how did you see him… die?” Maya tilted her head, recalling the memory. “The person just appeared out of nowhere. They were wearing a cartoon mascot head.” “It was during nap time. I couldn’t sleep, so I was just lying there with my eyes barely open. That’s when I saw Duke sneaking chips from his bag. He only ate a few before the person grabbed him and dragged him out.” As she spoke, a shadow of fear crossed her face. “I know Duke calls me names and teases me sometimes, but I don’t hate him. I was worried when he was gone, so when the teacher wasn’t looking, I snuck out to find him. I found him in an empty classroom, lying on the floor. He wasn’t moving at all.” “Did you tell a teacher right away?” “Ms. Evans is new. I don’t know her very well, so I was too scared to say anything.” “Did you see Duke again in class later?” She seemed to struggle with the memory, her little face scrunched in concentration. “I… I don’t remember. I was so scared, the rest of the afternoon felt like a bad dream.” I pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s okay, sweetie, you don’t have to be scared anymore. But if anything like this ever happens again, you have to promise to tell Mommy immediately.” I poured her a glass of milk and put on her favorite cartoon, hoping to help her relax. Just as she was settling down, the doorbell rang. I peeked through the peephole. It was Duke’s mom. 2 I quickly opened the door and invited her in. She was carrying a tote bag, bulging with something I couldn’t quite make out. The moment she stepped inside, she was beaming. “My Duke is finally growing up! He’s so thoughtful now! I’ve never seen him eat so well!” she gushed. “This new teacher is a miracle worker! She cured his picky eating in a single day!” I hesitated, then decided I had to say something. “That’s wonderful, but… don’t you think the change is a little sudden? Could something have happened? Maybe he was bullied, or something scared him?” “You should ask him carefully about what happened at school today.” I told her everything Maya had seen, and my own theory. A story about Duke dying and coming back to life was too bizarre. The more plausible explanation, I suggested, was that a staff member wearing a mask had threatened the children. Maya had probably witnessed Duke being punished and, in her child’s mind, misinterpreted it as death. It meant there was someone dangerous at that school, someone preying on the children in secret. As I spoke, the color drained from her face. Her hand went slack, and the tote bag fell to the floor with a soft thud. Without another word, she turned and bolted for the door, rushing back home. I figured that once she questioned Duke, the truth would come out. Then we could go to the school administration together. It wasn’t long before my phone rang. It was her. The second I answered, she started screaming. “I can’t believe your daughter is such a pathological liar! What a sick, twisted joke! I asked my son! He said none of what your daughter said happened! He was sleeping soundly the entire nap time! She’s not just a bad kid, she’s wishing death on my son! You’re just jealous that Duke is finally behaving!” Her accusations left me speechless, burning with shame. I glanced at Maya, who was still watching her cartoon, the picture of innocence. Could Maya have really made it all up? I sighed, and spent the next ten minutes apologizing profusely, begging for her forgiveness. 3 Later that night, after I had tucked Maya into bed, my husband, Mark, came home from work, looking exhausted. As we lay in bed, I told him about the day’s events. He burst out laughing. “Honey, our daughter just has a wild imagination. You can’t take it so seriously!” He reasoned, “Kids her age can’t always tell the difference between dreams and reality. She probably had a weird nightmare during her nap and woke up thinking it was real. Besides, there are security cameras everywhere in that school. Who would dare grab a kid in the middle of the day? You’re just scaring yourself.” His logic was sound. It was like a lightbulb went on. Maya had always loved adventure stories; I’d bought her dozens of fantasy books. Maybe she’d just had a strange dream inspired by one of her stories. In fact, Duke’s mom had come over to return one of those very books. Finally, I felt the tension in my shoulders release. Mark pulled me close. “It’s okay. I’ll take her to school tomorrow. I’ll have a little chat with her on the way.” The next morning, Mark dropped Maya off at preschool. He texted me a few minutes later to say he’d run into Duke’s mom at the gate and they had cleared the air. The two kids had even walked into the classroom together, laughing. I texted back: 【Thank God for you. I don’t know how long I would have kept spinning my wheels without you.】 With the house clean and some time to spare, I decided to treat myself to a manicure. I had just sat down and was discussing designs with the nail technician when my phone started buzzing nonstop in my purse. I pulled it out to see a flood of notifications from the parent’s WhatsApp group. In just a few moments, there were over 99 new messages. My stomach dropped. A cold, heavy sense of dread washed over me. I opened the chat. The first message I saw was from Duke’s mom. 【My poor boy! My sweet boy is gone! He was so good, so obedient! How could he have killed himself? Someone did this to him! Someone murdered my son!】

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My husband’s empire collapsed overnight. That same night, he rushed our son and me to a remote island, claiming we needed to hide from creditors. But something felt wrong. I turned back halfway, only to find him throwing a lavish party at our home, a beautiful woman in his arms. His friend smirked. “You sent them to that godforsaken rock? What will they eat?” Nate replied casually, “When Stella’s dog food brand failed, I had the surplus shipped there. It’s enough for years.” Stella snuggled closer. “You’re so good to me and our baby,” she whispered, touching her stomach. He chuckled. “You’re too soft-hearted. I had to remove that she-devil before she found out you’re pregnant. Once the baby’s born, I’ll bring them back. It’ll be too late for her to protest.” Lightning seemed to strike me; I broke into a cold sweat. Three years later, he called as planned. “How are you and Alan? I’m coming to get you.” I glanced at the man sleeping beside me and smiled. “We’re wonderful. My new husband is so good to me—and your son.” 1 There was a pause on the other end, followed by a chuckle. He thought I was joking. “Jenny, you haven’t changed a bit. Still got that sharp tongue.” “I know you’re upset I haven’t visited or called these past three years. But honey, circumstances wouldn’t allow it. I just settled the last of my debts, and you’re the first person I called. I’ll be there in two days to get you and Alan.” I was about to cut him off when my phone died. My new husband, Liam, stirred beside me. He rolled over, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me back into the warm cocoon of our bed. We’d been up late last night and were both exhausted. When I woke again in the afternoon, Liam was already at his office. A bodyguard had driven our son, Alan, to his international school. Feeling rested, I headed to the grocery store, planning to cook a special dinner for my two boys. I was inspecting a rack of lamb when a woman’s voice cut through the air. “Jenny?” I looked up. It was Stella. She was flanked by two maids, one of whom was holding a two-year-old girl. No paternity test was needed; the child was the spitting image of Nate. Stella’s eyes widened in genuine shock, clearly stunned to see me here. My own gaze, however, was fixed on the heirloom locket hanging around her neck—a locket that had been my mother’s. Three and a half years ago, Nate had told me he’d lost it. We filed a police report, and he’d stayed up for three straight nights, searching frantically. He had apologized with bloodshot eyes, and I had grieved for that precious memento for months. He knew it was the only thing I had left of my mother. And he had lied, giving it to her. Beyond the locket, she was dripping in designer labels and high-end jewelry. Nate had clearly taken very good care of her these past three years. “Sister,” Stella cooed, her voice laced with a cloying sweetness that felt more like a provocation. “Welcome back.” Three years ago, she would have bowed her head and addressed me as “Mrs. Peterson.” Back then, she owned a small dog food processing plant, and my mother-in-law, a dog lover, was a frequent customer. Stella was always so polite, so deferential. There was no hint of the shameless homewrecker she would become. 2 My hand shot out, and I ripped the locket from her neck. A raw, red line appeared on her pale skin. She gasped, clutching her throat. “Ouch!” “This is mine,” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare test me again. Next time, I won’t be so gentle.” I didn’t want a scene. When a man cheats, the fault lies with him. Stella’s expression soured, a mix of hurt and indignation. “I call you ‘sister’ out of respect for Nate,” she said, her voice rising. “He gave me that locket, and you’d better give it back. And another thing—Nate and I are together now. This is our daughter. I’ve always believed women shouldn’t make things hard for other women, which is why I’m always telling Nate to be kinder to you.” I scoffed. The audacity to spin such a web of self-serving lies, to act so righteous after committing such a despicable act. She pulled her daughter into her arms and pushed the child toward me. “Sweetie,” she instructed, “say hello to your auntie.” Her posture screamed magnanimity, as if my refusal to play along was a sign of my own petty nature. The little girl, innocent and cute, chirped, “Hi, auntie.” A surge of anger rose in me, but I would never take it out on a child. I turned to leave, ignoring Stella completely. Suddenly, her hand clamped down on my arm. The moment I flinched to pull away, she crumpled to the floor, clutching her child as if I had shoved her. She let out a pained cry, and the little girl began to wail. A crowd instantly gathered, their judgmental eyes on me. “How could you push a woman holding a baby?” “What a monster. Taking your anger out on a child…” My face was a cold mask. I pointed at Stella on the floor. “She’s a homewrecker who destroyed my family. I didn’t touch her—she threw herself on the ground. It’s just another one of her pathetic tricks.” With that, I walked away. Less than thirty minutes later, my phone was blowing up with calls from Nate. Stella had wasted no time. I didn’t answer. The texts started flooding in. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you wait for me to pick you up?” “Jenny, you went too far. What happened between Stella and me is my fault. If you’re going to be angry, be angry at me.” “Where are you? I’ll come get you. We can sit down as a family and talk this through.” “Honey, I need you to know that no matter how many children I have with Stella, you will always be the most important person in my life. My love for you will never change.” I felt sick. The truth was, the moment I returned, I had already contacted my lawyer. I was ready to fight. Just then, another notification popped up on my phone. A loan alert. Loan disbursement: Five million dollars. Over the past three years, Nate, in collusion with a corrupt bank employee, had taken out a total of one hundred million dollars in loans using my identity without my knowledge. My lawyer had already traced the funds. Every last cent had ended up in Stella’s account. He had spared no expense for her: luxury cars, mansions, and extravagant bids at auctions where he bought her whatever she desired, just to see her smile. I remembered a time, early on, when I had tested him. I’d called him, sobbing. “Nate, Alan has a raging fever. He’s so sick, and there’s no medicine on this island. Can you please send some money so I can get him to a hospital?” He had soothed me with empty words. “Boys are tough, Jenny. Their immune systems are strong. Just give him a cool bath. Honey, to be honest with you… I can’t even afford instant noodles right now. I don’t have a single penny to my name. Let’s just be strong, okay? The hard times will pass.” 3 The next day, I was struck with a sudden, agonizing pain. Appendicitis. I was writhing on the floor, soaked in so much sweat it was as if I’d been dunked in water. I didn’t even have the strength to make a call. My son, Alan, terrified, video-called Nate, begging him to come and take me to a hospital. Nate’s face showed a flicker of concern, but it was fleeting. “Just rub your mom’s tummy, son,” he’d said. “She’ll be fine in a bit. It’s probably just a stomach ache, nothing serious.” He hung up quickly. As the pain intensified, I passed out. Alan, in a panic, called him again. This time, Nate snapped. “Tell your mother to stop faking it!” After that, his phone was turned off. An appendix might not be a major organ, but the pain can be lethal. That was the moment I truly understood: a man whose heart has turned is more terrifying than any ghost. I screenshotted the loan notification and sent it to my lawyer. “Save this. Wait for my signal to file.” I took a deep breath, pushing the rage down, and went home to cook dinner. Liam was home early. He dropped his briefcase and rushed over to kiss me on the cheek. “Darling, you spoil me. That’s it, I’m definitely going to have to reward you tonight.” His idea of a “reward” was always the same, an inexhaustible passion that still made me blush. “Be serious,” I chided, pushing him away playfully. After a few more sweet nothings, he got down to business. “Nate Peterson invited me to his daughter’s birthday party.” Our eyes met, and a knowing smile spread across both our faces. A party that important? How could I possibly miss it? Two days later, Liam and I arrived together at the Peterson estate for the birthday celebration. Just as we entered, Liam had to take an urgent international conference call, so I went inside ahead of him. The sprawling French-style manor was situated in the most exclusive zip code in New York. While Nate was telling me he was bankrupt, shipping a ton of dog food to an island for me and our son, he was spending over one hundred and fifty million dollars to buy this very mansion, outbidding everyone else. All because Stella liked it. A tidal wave of hatred washed over me, and my steps grew firmer, more determined, as I walked into the villa. Inside the grand hall, Stella, dressed in a magnificent gown and holding her daughter, spotted me first. A provocative glint in her eye, she glided over. “Look, sweetie,” she purred, loud enough for others to hear. “Your ‘auntie’ is here to wish you a happy birthday. Why don’t you ask her what present she brought for you?” Her voice drew Nate over. His eyes widened when he saw me, a flicker of surprise mixed with something like pleasure. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Stella is being generous and won’t hold a grudge about the other day. It’s a huge step for you to finally control that temper of yours.” Then his gaze fell to my neck, where my mother’s locket now rested. His tone became firm, commanding. “Give the locket back to Stella. Her health is fragile, and I consulted a spiritualist who said only this piece can protect her energy. An object’s true value is realized when it’s with someone who truly needs it.” He smiled, a placating, patronizing smile. “Be a good girl. I’m back on my feet now. I can buy you as many lockets as you want. Stella is younger than you. You should be the bigger person and indulge her.” Give it back? My own property, and he wanted me to give it back to her? The absurdity of it all made me laugh, a sharp, bitter sound. “Nate, I’ve met shameless people before, but you… you’re in a league of your own. This locket was my mother’s. You stole it to give to your mistress, and now you have the nerve to tell me to return it?” Stella began to sob softly, delicate, theatrical tears streaming down her face as if I had inflicted some terrible wound. “Sister, you insulted me at the store, calling me a homewrecker and hitting me. Today is my daughter’s birthday. I’m begging you, please don’t humiliate me like this. I can take it, but think of the embarrassment you’re causing Nate and his parents.” I watched the two of them, a sickening spectacle. “It’s amazing how people with no shame suddenly decide they care about face.” “You!” Stella clutched her chest, pretending to be on the verge of collapse. That sent Nate into a panic. He lunged for me, his fingers digging into my neck as he tried to rip the locket off. The force was brutal, and tears of pain sprang to my eyes. At that moment, Stella added fuel to the fire. “She said she’d rather throw it in the trash than give it to me. Sister, I can pay you for it. How much do you want?” Her words enraged Nate. With a roar, he tore the locket from my neck and smashed it onto the marble floor. CRACK. The sound echoed through the silent hall. The locket, my mother’s locket, shattered into a dozen pieces. I froze. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. All I could hear was the sound of my own heart breaking. Nate’s voice boomed. “The locket! The locket! You act like a lunatic over a stupid piece of jewelry! Let’s see how crazy you get now that it’s gone!” He was right. I was going to lose my mind. “You animal!” I screamed, flying at him, my fists pounding against his chest. “You give me back the only thing I had left of my mother!” Stella, the picture of false concern, chimed in. “Sister, our husband is angry. You need to calm down and behave yourself so he’ll forgive you. You know, there’s an old custom where we’re from. The first time an elder woman meets a new child, she has to let the child… well, christen her. It’s a sign of unconditional love. Why don’t you kneel down, sister? Let our baby bless you. It’s our husband’s daughter, after all. If you do it, he won’t be angry anymore. Please, sister, just kneel.” A feral scream tore from my throat. I spun on her, my palm connecting with her cheek in a vicious slap. “You bitch! You’re just begging for it, aren’t you? Fine! I’ll give you what you want!” I attacked her, a whirlwind of grief and fury. The commotion drew a crowd of guests. Nate, his face burning with rage, tore me off her and struck me hard across the face. “You dare make a scene here? I’ll show you what happens!” His parents rushed over. “You crazy woman!” his mother shrieked. “Do you have any idea where you are? You are a disgrace to the Peterson name!” His father chimed in, his voice cold with disgust. “Get security in here and drag her out! What a curse. People like her should be locked away on an island for life!” Stella, helped to her feet, put on her most benevolent face. “I think she came here today just to cause trouble. Even if we throw her out, she’ll only find another way back in. She’s so… wild. Like a rabid dog. It’s frightening. Perhaps we should lock her in the dog cage in the basement until the party is over? For everyone’s safety.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Nate gave the order. “Security! Take her to the basement and lock her in the cage. Don’t let her out until I say so!” Two large bodyguards seized me, their grips like iron. As they began to drag me away, I fought with every ounce of strength I had left. And then, through the haze of my despair, I heard a voice that made my heart leap with hope. A voice like thunder. “Who dares lock my wife in a dog cage? I’ll see them dead!”

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“My parents were getting a divorce, and I, reborn in the middle of it all, was on the witness stand. I was here to testify that my mother had an affair. In my last life, she’d cried and begged to keep my brother and me. All it got us was a life of poverty, humiliation, and the sickness that finally consumed her. My mother and brother froze, their faces masks of disbelief. And I stood beside my father—my rich, ruthless, cold-blooded father. A small, cruel smile played on my lips as I lied through my teeth. “She had an affair. She should walk away with nothing.” This time, I chose not to be the poor man’s daughter. 01 I came back to life in a courtroom. I swallowed the hatred that was churning in my gut, a toxic bile. I let my eyes fall to the floor for a single, theatrical beat, then looked up, my voice clear and sharp, a shard of ice. “She was unfaithful during the marriage.” My words hung in the sterile air. “According to the statutes, that means she forfeits everything.” I raised a hand, my finger pointing directly at my mother, Laura. My lips curled into a sneer, my eyes glittering with a malice I didn’t truly feel. “She doesn’t deserve to be my mother anymore.” The color drained from my mother’s face. She staggered, one hand flying to her chest as if my words were a physical blow. My brother, Ethan, stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. He couldn’t understand. I was his quiet, obedient little sister. How could I be this… heartless? I straightened my spine, my gaze sweeping coldly across the room before landing on the judge. “I want to live with my father,” I stated, my voice flat. My father, Richard Sterling, stood beside me, immaculate in a tailored suit, his expression unreadable. He watched the scene unfold like a spectator at a particularly satisfying play. He knew this was a performance, and he was my silent director. Ethan lost it. He lunged forward, his fingers digging into my arm. “Claire! Are you insane? That’s Mom!” he hissed, his voice cracking. “How could you—” I wrenched my arm away. “She betrayed Dad,” I said, my face a blank mask. “That means she’s not my mother anymore. I don’t have a mother who would do something so shameless.” My brother’s eyes were red, his hand raised as if to strike me, but it fell limply to his side. “What did he promise you, Claire? What did Richard Sterling give you to make you perjure yourself?” He turned, his voice ringing out, desperate. “Your Honor, the one who had the affair was—” “It was my mother,” I cut in, my voice so cold it could freeze fire. “I was never interested in cheap sentiment.” My father gave the judge a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. The gavel came down. The judgment was swift, final. Ethan was given no more chances to speak. My mother was ashen. My brother’s lips trembled. Disbelief was etched onto their faces. They couldn’t comprehend how I, the quiet one, the good one, could stand in a court of law and lie. I simply turned my head, my gaze calm and distant. I never looked back at them. 02 I walked down the courthouse steps, ignoring the shattered looks from my mother and brother behind me. My father shielded me from the flash of a reporter’s camera. A black town car waited at the curb, and a driver held the door open for me. Richard smiled, a low, satisfied sound in his chest. “Good girl, Claire. You’ve made your father proud.” I slid onto the plush leather seat. He took out his phone, typing out a quick message. In my peripheral vision, I saw him text his assistant. It was about the final wire transfer. The payment to the judge. The moment the engine purred to life, my heart plummeted. The memory of a rainy night from my past life flooded my senses. My mother bursting through the door, the hem of her dress soaked. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hands trembling as she held up a set of photographs. She confronted her husband. Demanded to know why. He grabbed her by the throat, his smile terrifying. “Who gave you permission to investigate me?” My mother’s eyes bulged. “Richard… we’re… married…” she choked out. He released her abruptly, only to backhand her across the face. The sound cracked like a whip. “You bitch. You’re nothing but a dog I keep on a leash,” he snarled. “What right do you have to question me?” I was frozen with terror. Ethan, my brave Ethan, threw himself in front of us, shielding my mother and me with his own body. He was seventeen, thin as a rail from a recent illness, but he stood tall. “You want to hit someone, Richard? Hit me,” he said, his chin held high. “Real tough man, beating up on a woman.” The slap that was meant for our mother landed on his cheek. He didn’t flinch. “Filth, born from filth,” my father spat. “Worthless brat.” His fists and feet rained down on my brother. I screamed, throwing myself at my father’s legs. “Please, Daddy, don’t hit him… please…” He kicked me away and stormed out. “Laura, get ready for a divorce!” Ethan struggled to his knees, his face already swelling. But he forced a smile and stroked my hair. “It’s okay, Claire-bear. It doesn’t hurt.” He was lying. I could see the cold sweat beading on his forehead. In that life, Richard Sterling bought the judge. He left my mother penniless. She was broken by it, a ghost of her former self. Ethan dropped out of college to support us, working multiple jobs. The exhaustion killed him. A massive heart attack before he was twenty-five. My mother and I were on our way to the morgue to identify his body when a truck ran a red light. 03 I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to force the memories down. But seeing Richard’s face, it all came rushing back. In that life, when Ethan said he was dropping out, I’d begged him not to. I cried, telling him I would go to our father, I would get on my knees and beg for money to support Mom, to keep us both in school. “Don’t, Ethan, please don’t drop out. It’ll ruin your whole life,” I’d pleaded. He refused. He told me he was the man of the house now. That his job was to take care of us. He would handle the money. My mother did try to go to Richard once. His security threw her out. Ethan worked himself to the bone to put me through college. And it cost him his life. But now, Ethan was still alive. And I would burn the world to the ground before I let him walk that path again. … “Claire.” Richard’s voice from the front seat pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up and smiled, my voice sweet as sugar. “Yes, Dad?” He had his arm around his mistress, Jessica, who was sitting beside him. “You did very well today, Claire,” he said. “You need to understand something. In this world, your father is the only one who can protect you. Unlike your mother and brother, who don’t know what’s good for them.” Jessica snuggled against him, her voice a syrupy purr. I sat behind them, a perfect, shallow smile on my face. I’m back. And this time, I will save my mother and my brother. Even if I have to drown in filth to ensure they live in the light. 04 A month later, it was my birthday. A blizzard had swept through New York, blanketing the city in white. Outside, the wind howled. Inside my father’s Upper East Side townhouse, it was a world of champagne and empty laughter. A party full of soulless people in beautiful clothes. I had just blown out the candles on a ridiculously expensive cake when the doorbell rang. The housekeeper answered it. Jessica’s voice, sharp and mocking, cut through the noise. “Well, look what the storm blew in. A little beggar.” My heart seized. I turned. It was Ethan. His nose was red with cold, his shoulders dusted with snow. In his hand, he clutched a small box wrapped in old newspaper. Our eyes met, and he gave me a gentle, tired smile. “Claire. I came for your birthday.” Jessica let out an exaggerated gasp, then laughed. “Oh, it’s you, Ethan! For a second there, I didn’t recognize you!” She was draped in diamonds, playing the part of the lady of the manor. “It’s freezing out there! You must be chilled to the bone in that thin jacket. Come in, come in, warm up.” Ethan didn’t move. His gaze was fixed on me, his voice low and raspy. “Claire? Can you come outside for a minute?” The room behind me was bright and warm, the air thick with the scent of vanilla frosting. I was wearing a designer dress that felt like a costume. My father was holding court on the living room sofa, Jessica perched beside him. The housekeeper stood silently by the door. And behind my brother, there was only the swirling snow and the endless, dark night. 05 I stood on the snow-dusted steps, the wind biting at my cheeks. Ethan handed me the gift. His hands were raw, covered in chilblains. He tried to hide them in the sleeves of his worn coat. “Happy birthday, Claire.” His voice was soft. “I got you that bracelet you always wanted.” My fingers trembled as I took the small, square box. It was wrapped in newspaper, the corners damp from the snow. A Cartier Love bracelet. How many hours, how many miserable shifts, did he have to work to afford this? I couldn’t bear to think about it. He rubbed his hands together, his breath misting in the frigid air. “Claire… will you come home for a bit? Just to see her?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “Mom baked a cake… and she made your favorite pasta.” Before I could answer, a cold laugh echoed from the doorway behind me. It was Richard. He leaned against the doorframe, swirling a glass of amber liquid. He just watched me. A chill ran down my spine. I knew he was waiting, testing me. I clutched the gift, my throat tight. Ethan was still waiting, his eyes filled with a fragile hope. I clenched my jaw. And then I put on the mask. The mask of a cold, calculating stranger. “You shouldn’t come here again,” I said, my voice dripping with condescension. “I’m Dad’s only daughter now. I don’t need poor relations showing up and causing trouble.” I took a breath. “I told you before. I don’t have a mother.” I looked him right in the eye. “Now get out of here.” The words left my mouth, and I could almost hear the sound of my own heart shattering. Ethan just stared, stunned. His lips parted, but no words came out. Finally, he lowered his head and let out a small, bitter laugh. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, turned, and walked away. He trudged back into the blizzard, his footprints deep and lonely in the fresh snow. The storm intensified, blurring his silhouette until he was gone. I stood there, frozen. Tears streamed down my face, hot against my cold skin, but I didn’t make a sound. I dug my nails into my palms until they bled, just to feel something other than the gaping hole in my chest. Richard came up behind me and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Well done.” I said nothing. I just felt a coldness inside me that was far more brutal than the winter storm raging around us.”

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“I was a princess in a tower of my own making. Then they found the real one. When the actual Ainsworth heiress came home, I became the family’s dirty little secret: the placeholder daughter. To make things less excruciatingly awkward for everyone, I volunteered to move out of the Greenwich mansion and into a campus dorm. I also broke off my engagement. “You’re breaking up with me again?” Carter Hayes had asked, his voice a low drawl over the phone. “This time it’s real, Carter.” “Oh?” A soft chuckle, drenched in the kind of confidence that came from a lifetime of never being told no. “I don’t accept.” And so began Carter’s grand, ridiculously public campaign to win me back. It was a blitzkrieg of wealth and romance. Cartier jewels arrived at my dorm’s mailroom like Amazon packages. A sea of imported roses flooded the main campus quad, and a fireworks display, extravagant enough for New Year’s Eve, lit up the entire city skyline one Tuesday night. Drones danced in the dark, forming my name in glittering lights while the whole student body watched from below, gasping and filming on their phones. But I refused to see him. I held my ground until my roommate, Ashley, cornered me between my desk and the door, her expression a mask of pure annoyance. “Penelope, can you please stop stringing Carter Hayes along?” she demanded. “You two are broken up. So, would you mind if I went after him?” In that exact moment, the world tilted. Strange, translucent lines of text flickered into existence in my vision, hovering in the air like comments on a livestream. 【YES! This is the energy! Our girl is so freaking bold!】 【LMAO, watch the ice queen’s face crack. She turns down his proposals just to play games, and now she’s about to lose him for real. Serves her right.】 【Penelope is the worst kind of user. She says they’re broken up but loves the attention of him begging. Total parasite.】 【I’m so done. My heart breaks for Carter!】 1 The sudden appearance of the comments left me utterly frozen. “What’s with that look?” Ashley scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t act like I’m stealing your boyfriend. You’re exes, Penelope. Let him go. You don’t own him.” 【Seriously. He’s an ex. She has no claim on him anymore.】 【This is why I love Ashley. She’s all action, no games. She sees what she wants and goes for it.】 【Does Penelope really think that just because they dated, Carter has to stay single forever? Get over yourself.】 【Typical. Women who are like dogs with a bone. They don’t want the toy, but they’ll be damned if another dog plays with it.】 【Don’t you worry, babies. Carter will realize soon enough that Ashley is his true soulmate!】 Ashley arched an eyebrow, her tone deceptively casual. “Look, I’m trying to do this the right way. So I’m asking you one last time: you and Carter are over. Correct?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The truth was, I had no idea what we were. A week ago, we were the couple everyone envied. Now, I was the imposter daughter, and the real heiress, Claire Ainsworth, was back. Claire claimed I had stolen her life. She wanted me out of the family home as repayment for the twenty years of charity they’d shown me. The sight of me sent her into fits of tears so violent she’d once fainted and ended up in the hospital. My parents—our parents?—were terrified, and the house had become a war zone. I was the bomb that had detonated their lives. I didn’t want to make it harder for anyone. So I packed my bags, moved into this tiny dorm room, and ripped my own heart out by telling Carter it was over. But Carter refused to let go. He was pursuing me with the kind of flagrant, over-the-top gestures that made it impossible to ignore him. To say I wasn’t tempted, that my resolve didn’t waver, would be a lie. But a cold, hard truth kept pulling me back: the engagement was to the Ainsworth heiress. That wasn’t me. I was a fraud. I had to let him go. I just never imagined that Ashley, of all people, would throw herself into this tangled mess. I could only manage a bitter, ironic smile. That man was walking, talking pheromones. 2 “That’s between Carter and me.” It was a private matter, and the last thing I wanted was to dissect it with her. Ashley, however, was not satisfied. “God, can you stop being so melodramatic? You’ve been ‘breaking up’ for a week. Does that sound normal to you? It sounds like you never meant to break up at all.” Suddenly, her eyes widened as if she’d discovered a brilliant, hidden truth. “Oh my god. You really are stringing him along, aren’t you?” She let out a theatrical gasp. “Everyone was saying it, and I actually defended you. I can’t believe I was so stupid. You’ve really disappointed me, Penelope.” Her eyes narrowed, raking over me with a newfound contempt. “Playing the victim while secretly pulling the strings. You’re more calculating than I thought, Penelope.” The comments exploded in a torrent of vitriol. 【No doubt about it. She’s keeping him on the back burner. Classic move.】 【Ashley has her number. She saw right through the fake princess act.】 【Penelope is a vanity monster. Carter showering her with expensive gifts makes her look good. Everyone on campus envies her, thinking she’s got it made—even without the Ainsworth name, she’s still got the Hayes fortune to fall back on.】 【You guys don’t get it. This is all for Claire’s benefit. The more Carter obsesses over her, the more valuable she looks. It’s a slap in the face to the real heiress and makes the Ainsworths think twice about cutting her off completely. She’s a stone-cold bitch!】 Just then, my phone buzzed. An unknown number. I knew it was him. After I broke up with him, I had blocked him everywhere. For the past week, he had called me from a new number every single day with terrifying patience. I was about to decline the call when Ashley’s hand shot out, snatching the phone from my grasp. She answered it and put it on speaker. Carter’s deep, magnetic voice filled the small room. “Well, well. Finally decided to pick up for me, Princess?” His tone was laced with a lazy, confident smile. “I’m downstairs.” As if on cue, a wave of excited screams erupted from the courtyard below. I glanced out the window. A sleek, black Bentley was parked at the curb, its trunk wide open, revealing an opulent bed of perfect, crimson roses. Nestled in the center of the flowers was a velvet box, open to display a breathtaking diamond necklace that glittered under the campus lights. Carter himself, dressed in a tailored khaki trench coat, leaned casually against the car door, his phone to his ear. His face was so devastatingly handsome it felt like a crime. Ashley’s cheeks flushed a bright pink, and her voice suddenly turned breathy and sweet. “Carter? It’s me.” 3 There was a distinct pause on the other end of the line. “Who is this? Why do you have Penelope’s phone?” “It’s Ashley. Penelope’s roommate? We met at her birthday party last year.” Carter’s voice immediately cooled. “And?” “And if I hadn’t answered, Penelope was about to hang up on you.” “What is your point?” he asked, his tone clipped. “My point is, she’s not going to get back with you. You should stop wasting your time. You two just aren’t right for each other.” A dry, humorless laugh echoed from the phone. “…And I should be wasting my time on you instead?” Ashley’s smile was audacious, predatory. “You could. I’d let you.” 【OH MY GOD, I SHIP IT! A confident queen who knows what she wants!】 【Yesss, Ashley wants! Ashley gets!】 【If I were Carter, I’d fall for a girl like that in a heartbeat. That kind of confidence is magnetic.】 The silence on Carter’s end stretched on. It was so long I thought he’d hung up. So long that the triumphant smirk on Ashley’s face began to falter. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with a new, intriguing amusement. “Oh?” he said slowly. “Interesting.” Ashley’s eyes lit up, shining like she’d just been handed a galaxy of stars. 【A-H-H-H! HE SAID INTERESTING! HE’S INTO HER!】 【I knew it! Who could possibly resist our brave, straightforward queen?】 【The ice princess must be absolutely losing her mind right now. Hahaha, her little games backfired spectacularly!】 She wasn’t wrong. I was losing my mind. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible fist, a dull, crushing ache that stole my breath. “So… Carter, should I come down?” Ashley asked, her voice trembling with barely concealed excitement. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone crisp and decisive. Ashley ended the call and flashed me a victorious smile, dangling my phone like a trophy. “See, Penelope? This is what men want. That whole ‘playing hard to get’ thing is so last century.” With that, she spun around and began frantically tearing through her closet. “Which one? Is the V-neck too much? No, no, this little white dress. It’s more… innocent.” She shimmied into the dress and quickly applied a full face of makeup with practiced hands. Just before leaving, she paused in front of me and did a little twirl. “What do you think? Do I look good?” I said nothing. She didn’t care. A dismissive smirk played on her lips. “You had your chance, Penelope. Don’t blame me for taking it.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “From now on, Carter is mine.” Then, she clicked out of the room on her heels, a proud peacock off to claim her prize. The comments resumed their relentless assault. 【Go get your man, Ashley!】 【I bet Penelope looks like she just swallowed a gallon of sour milk. LOL.】 【She has no one to blame but herself. Too late for regrets now!】 I walked slowly to the balcony. Below, Ashley had already reached Carter’s car. She was smiling, her face tilted up as she spoke to him animatedly. Carter was looking down at her, a faint smile on his lips, his gaze focused and intent. It was a look I’d never seen from him before. A gentle look. He reached into the trunk, pulled out a single rose, and handed it to her. Ashley took it, her delight obvious. Then, she rose onto her tiptoes and planted a quick, bold kiss on his cheek. The screams from the onlookers intensified. And Carter… he didn’t pull away. He didn’t even flinch. He simply raised a hand and playfully ruffled her hair. My fingers gripped the iron railing of the balcony, my knuckles turning white from the pressure. So this was it. All my pain, all my attempts to be logical and do the right thing—it was all just a joke to him. He wasn’t exclusively mine. He could turn his affection to someone else in a heartbeat. 【Hahaha, she’s watching from the balcony! Seething!】 【Look at her face, it’s like her whole world is ending. So satisfying to watch.】 【Keep looking, bitch. He’s not yours anymore.】 My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text message. It was from Claire, the real Ainsworth. “Did you see that, Penelope? Without the Ainsworth name, you’re nothing. Even Carter doesn’t want you anymore. You must be feeling pretty pathetic right now. It looks good on you.” I stared at the text, then back down at the picture-perfect couple below. Something inside me, something I had been suppressing for weeks, finally shattered. Why? Why was I the one who had to retreat, only to be vilified by everyone? Why did I have to be the one to sacrifice everything for their comfort, only to be left with nothing but scars? Why did they get to steal my entire life and then stand back and laugh at my despair? The comments continued to mock me. 【Just give up. A supporting character should know her place. Just be a stepping stone for the main couple’s love story.】 【Exactly. Why does she have to be so obnoxious?】 They wanted me to suffer. They wanted to see me break down, to watch me hide in a corner and cry. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I turned and walked back into my room, straight to the suitcase I hadn’t fully unpacked. It held the relics of my former life: the most beautiful, most expensive clothes and jewelry I owned. I pulled out a stunning, floor-length red gown Carter had given me for my last birthday. Then, I sat at my small desk, and with a steady hand, I applied the most exquisite, dramatic makeup I knew how. The girl in the mirror was a stranger. Her eyes were sharp, her lips were the color of blood, and she carried herself with the pride of a thorny, untouchable rose. This was Penelope Ainsworth. The girl who had been cherished, who could have anything she ever wanted. They wanted a villain? Fine. I would give them one. I would become the villain who would bring them all to their knees.”

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1 In New York’s elite circles, everyone knew Erica Vance was devoted to me—despite her icy demeanor. Marrying her was seen as the Foster family’s blessing of the century. But at our engagement party, a call came from her childhood friend Johnny, who struggled with depression. “I can’t watch you marry someone else,” he whispered desperately. “Let me be your first husband.” I grabbed the phone, furious. “Have some self-respect.” Erica shoved me away. “He’s depressed—what if you trigger him?” Then Johnny threatened: “If you don’t come, I’ll kill myself.” Erica turned pale, ignored our guests, and ran out in her gown to his hotel. I became the city’s laughingstock. That night, I saw the photo Johnny sent—of them in bed together. I called Mr. Vance Sr., voice cold: “I’m not breaking the contract. The wedding proceeds in two weeks.” The hotel room was a disaster. The fabric of her engagement dress, torn to shreds, was strewn across the floor like confetti at a funeral. A garish crimson stain marred the white sheets. The air was thick with the cloying, metallic scent of sex, a smell so raw it made me want to gag. Erica glanced towards the bathroom, where the sound of the shower was running, and hissed at me in a low voice. “Johnny’s still in the shower. Watch what you say when he comes out.” Her brow was furrowed with blame. “If you hadn’t said those things to him, he never would have had an episode! I just managed to calm him down. Don’t you dare set him off again!” A bitter, humorless smile twisted my lips. “Does ‘calming him down’ involve fucking him in a hotel bed?!” I spat. “Erica, I never realized you were so completely shameless.” Her face flushed a deep, angry red, and her voice shot up. “That’s enough, Liam! Johnny has had a hard life. He’s sick! Are you really going to pick a fight with a sick man?!” Just then, the water in the bathroom cut off. Johnny burst out, a single towel slung low on his hips. His chest was a canvas of fresh, angry-red hickeys. His voice was a trembling, wounded whisper. “Erica… why is he here?” I almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. “My fiancée runs out of our engagement party to shack up with another man. Why do you think I’m here?” “Shut up!” Erica snapped, cutting me off. “No! I don’t want you to go, Erica!” Johnny immediately clung to her, burying his face in her chest like a child. “He’s here to drag you back! I won’t let you go back to him!” Erica sighed, a deep, weary sound, and stroked his hair with a tenderness I’d never seen. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you forever, Johnny, okay?” That gentle, doting tone… it was so foreign, it sent a chill straight to my heart. This wasn’t the Erica I knew. She was always so reserved, so distant. Even five years ago, when she’d agreed to our families’ merger and our subsequent marriage, her expression had been impassive. For five years, I had done everything to win her affection. I’d lit up the Hudson with fireworks for her birthday. I’d driven across the city in the middle of the night to bring her warm soup when her stomach ached. I’d even tolerated Johnny’s increasingly reckless stunts, like the times he’d “accidentally” totaled my brand-new Maybach in a fit of manic driving. I’d accepted it all, for her sake. Five long years, and she had finally, willingly, agreed to be my wife. But one phone call from Johnny had turned my five years of devotion into a pathetic joke. Seeing them about to tumble back into bed, I spoke, my voice sharp and cold. “The whole city is watching the Vance-Foster merger. The engagement party was a disaster. We need a story.” Erica’s body went rigid. Johnny, however, smirked with triumph. “What story do you need? She doesn’t love you. Why are you forcing her? Her first husband was me! And if we ever have kids, they’ll be mine, not yours!” Erica frantically clamped a hand over his mouth, her cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and fury. “Johnny, stop it!” I stared at the two of them, tangled together, my face an emotionless mask. “Fine. If you two are so inseparable, I’ll grant you your wish. The engagement is off—” Before I could finish, Erica’s expression changed completely. She tore herself from Johnny’s arms. “Liam, I’ve always seen Johnny as a little brother. Don’t misunderstand. I’ll come back with you. This merger is too important to let a small misunderstanding ruin our families’ harmony.” I nearly choked on a laugh at her ridiculous excuse. “A ‘small misunderstanding’? When you fled our engagement party, did you forget how important the merger was then? The Foster family name is mud all over town because of you!” I turned away, fighting to control the inferno raging in my chest. “Our families are in damage control right now. They sent me to get you. As for him,” I gestured dismissively at Johnny, “the Vances have arranged for the country’s top psychiatric team to meet him. If he’s sick, he needs to get treated.” With a flick of my wrist, several medics waiting outside the door entered the room. They quickly subdued the still-shouting Johnny and escorted him toward a waiting ambulance. His face was ashen as he screamed and struggled. “Erica! They’re taking me! Help me!” Erica clutched at her dress, her knuckles white, but she didn’t dare move a muscle. The room fell into a dead silence. She whipped her head around to face me and slapped me hard across the cheek. “I’m warning you, Liam Foster,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “If anything happens to Johnny, I’ll hold you personally responsible.” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I watched her go, the last embers of hope in my heart turning to cold ash. That night, the lights of the Vance estate burned bright. Erica knelt in the center of the grand living room, her eyes red-rimmed and defiant. Mr. Vance Sr., trembling with rage, brought his cane down hard on her back. “You disgraceful girl! How dare you pull a stunt like this?!” She flinched in pain but bit her lip and straightened her spine. A cold smile touched her lips as she shot back, “I did nothing wrong. If it weren’t for me, today’s headline would have been ‘Foster Heir Drives Croft Scion to Suicide for Merger.’ How would your precious family have handled that?” Her twisted logic was so outrageous I could only laugh. “So I should thank you for the horns you’ve so generously placed on my head?” Erica’s chest heaved with indignation, but her voice was self-righteous. “I worked so hard to calm Johnny down! And what did you do? You had him thrown into a mental hospital! How could you be so cruel?” I looked at this woman I had once loved with everything I had, and a sharp, tearing pain spread through me. “Since you find me so cruel, Miss Vance, it would be foolish of me to impose any further. Let’s cancel the wedding.” I nodded to my lawyer, who stepped forward and laid out the original prenuptial agreement on the table. When I had agreed to this union, I had insisted on iron-clad penalty clauses. If I could raise her to the heavens, I could also ensure she had a long way to fall. The room fell silent. Erica’s father swayed on his feet, nearly collapsing. “My dear Liam, surely you’re joking!” I offered a bland smile, my voice devoid of any emotion. “Miss Vance was willing to abandon her own engagement for true love. Since she and Johnny have already consummated their relationship, why not let them marry? I would be doing them a favor.” The color drained from Erica’s face, leaving it a ghostly white. “Liam! I told you, I was saving his life! We’re adults! Why are you making such a big deal out of this? It’s disgusting!” “Silence!” Mr. Vance Sr. roared, his cane cracking against her back once more. Her words were like a dull blade twisting in my chest. Five years ago, I had gone to an old monastery on the outskirts of the city to pray for my ailing mother. On my way down the mountain, I saw Erica crouched before a small, injured stray cat, her face etched with concern. In that moment, I was struck by what I thought was pure, unadulterated kindness. So I saved the cat. And at her desperate pleading, I used all my resources to save the Vance Corporation from the brink of bankruptcy. But now, the tattered remains of her engagement dress mocked me, a silent testament to my own self-deception. The stalemate was thick with tension. Erica’s parents looked like they were about to drop to their knees and beg. “Liam, Johnny’s parents died when he was young. He’s always seen Erica as an older sister! She just got confused this time, she did something foolish! But our families, our years of partnership…” Erica just scoffed, her eyes glinting with cold hatred. “First you blackmail me with our engagement, now you’re threatening my parents with the company! Is that all you know, Liam? Pathetic, underhanded tactics?” A wave of pure rage washed over me, and I laughed. “Threats? Five years ago, who was it that came to me, begging me to marry their daughter? Who begged me to save a stray cat? And who knelt before me, pleading for me to save their company?” “You—” Erica began, trembling with fury. But she was cut off by the shrill ring of her phone. She listened for a moment, and her entire demeanor changed. She lunged at me, grabbing my collar, her eyes wild. “Johnny slit his wrists at the hospital! If anything happens to him, I’ll burn your entire family to the ground!” She shoved me aside and ran for the door. The room descended into a tomb-like silence. Mr. Vance Sr. looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Liam, a word in my study.” In the study, the old man seemed to have aged a decade, his back more stooped than ever. “Liam, I failed to raise my granddaughter properly. On behalf of the Vance family, I apologize.” He took a deep breath, his tone shifting. “But the Foster and Vance enterprises are intertwined. We are two sides of the same coin. If one falls, the other suffers. The marriage must go on.” … Half an hour later, I walked out of the Vance estate without a backward glance. The moment I got in my car, my phone began vibrating violently. I answered, my face a stone mask. “Liam Foster! Where are you?! Get your ass to City General Hospital right now!” Erica’s voice was a shrill shriek, punctuated by the faint sound of Johnny’s hysterical sobbing in the background. “Johnny would never have tried to kill himself if you hadn’t provoked him! You have to come here and apologize to him personally! If you don’t, I will hate you for the rest of my life!” I ended the call and started the engine. Some performances, you just have to see for yourself before you can truly let go. The hospital room was a stage. Johnny, clad in a patient’s gown, had his head buried in the crook of Erica’s neck. Her own clothes were disheveled, and a fresh constellation of hickies decorated her pale skin. When they saw me, there was no shame, no embarrassment. Instead, Johnny’s provocations became even more blatant. “What took you so long? Erica, hurry up and tell him. You’re mine. Everything about you is mine!” Erica looked at me, her chin held high, and spoke as if giving an order. “Can’t you see how unstable he is? Apologize to him. Now.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Apologize? For what? For interrupting you two lovebirds before you could screw again?” “Liam!” she shrieked, as if I had mortally wounded her. “Johnny is a patient! Can’t you show a little compassion? What’s so hard about swallowing your pride to give him some peace of mind?” Johnny immediately played along, his arms tightening around her waist. “Exactly! Don’t be scared, Erica. Didn’t your grandfather say it? The marriage is still on! From now on, you’ll be Mrs. Foster in name, but your body and soul belong to me! He won’t ever get to touch you!” A flicker of unease crossed Erica’s face, but the words “the marriage is still on” clearly bolstered her confidence. “You heard him, Liam. The wedding is happening. But on my terms. You will apologize to Johnny, and you will agree to a few conditions.” She smirked. “Otherwise, even after we’re married, you won’t touch a single hair on my head.” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “What conditions?” Thinking I had finally caved, her triumphant expression intensified. “First, you will transfer five percent of your personal shares to Johnny as compensation for his emotional distress. Second, that penthouse apartment of yours overlooking the river—it gets signed over to him. Third, your new limited-edition supercar—he likes it. Hand over the keys. Fourth…” The demands grew more ridiculous, more greedy, with each breath. I listened in silence, my heart slowly turning to a block of ice. Seeing my lack of response, she shoved me hard. “Stop playing dead! Did you hear the ten conditions I just listed or not?!” I was done arguing. I turned to leave. “Liam!” she screamed at my back, a raw, hysterical sound. “If you don’t agree, I’ll… I’ll make sure the Foster line ends with you!” My footsteps paused. I didn’t turn around. My voice was a frozen shard of sound. “I’ll give it some thought.” For the next two weeks, the city’s elite circles were buzzing. The news that the Foster-Vance merger was deepening and the wedding would proceed as scheduled sent shockwaves through high society. At the same time, whispers of the younger Miss Vance’s pre-wedding affair spread like wildfire in private conversations. Many were waiting, eager to see me made a fool. I ignored it all, focusing solely on the wedding preparations. Erica didn’t contact me once. She and Johnny were too busy, carrying on their shameless affair at the hospital, getting themselves kicked out, and even getting photographed by the paparazzi. She was scrambling to kill the story. It wasn’t until the night before the wedding that she sent me a single, magnanimous text. “Liam, I will marry you as promised tomorrow. But don’t you forget the conditions you agreed to.” I glanced at the message, deleted it, and turned off my phone. … On the day of the wedding, the city’s elite gathered in force. A wall of media waited outside, their cameras like cannons ready to fire. The solemn wedding march began, and the grand doors of the cathedral swung open. At the end of the aisle, bathed in light, the bride walked toward me on her grandfather’s arm. A subtle ripple of confusion and whispers moved through the guests. Soon, the officiant began the vows. “Liam Foster, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in—” Suddenly, a sharp, familiar voice cut through the sacred silence. Erica, her hair a mess, her wedding dress clutched in her fists, stormed onto the altar. When her eyes finally focused on the bride standing beside me, she froze, struck as if by lightning. A violent tremor ran through her body. “Liam, how could you!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “I object! I, Erica Vance, am the bride today!”

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1 A live feed of comments hovered in the air, visible to everyone. When I asked to postpone my mid-year review due to a migraine, the comments exploded. 【Wow, the villainess is such an actress. If the boss lets her go, our team’s ratings will tank.】 【Not like Isla—she works even through terrible cramps. A real pro.】 The VP instantly promoted Isla and canceled the rest of our reviews. I became an outcast. Later, when I filed a reimbursement, the comments stirred again: 【She didn’t buy half that stuff—she bought a designer bag with company money!】 【Isla covers overages with her own cash. She truly cares.】 Finance investigated all my past claims, docked my pay, and gave it to Isla as a “bonus.” Then, during a severe asthma attack at my desk, the comments floated by: 【She’s not sick—she’s pregnant and trying to blame someone!】 The whole office watched, cold and unmoved. No one called for help. Only Isla came over, saying, “Ava, what’s wrong? Let me take you to the break room.” But inside, she set the AC to 60°F, locked the door, and left me in freezing, dry air—trapped, suffocating. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day of the promotion review. This time, I could see the comments too. … I pressed my temples, my fingertips ice-cold as the familiar, splitting pain exploded behind my eyes. The conference room lights were blindingly bright, the PowerPoint slide frozen on the title: ‘Mid-Year Performance & Promotion Review.’ My eyes flew open. It wasn’t a dream. I had been reborn. The next second, a dense cloud of comments materialized in the air. 【Here we go! Classic villainess move: the conveniently timed headache!】 【LMAO, no headache all morning, but the second it’s her turn to present? So predictable. She’s about to ask for a postponement.】 【Isla looks so pale today but she still showed up. Now THAT’S dedication!】 My gaze shot to Isla, sitting a few seats ahead of me. She had a slight frown on her face, one hand subtly pressed against her lower abdomen, a fine sheen of cold sweat on her brow. She was the very picture of stoic suffering. Sure enough, the comments flooded with sympathy. 【Aww, our poor baby Isla is pushing through the worst cramps!】 【Unlike some people! Faking sick just to get out of a presentation.】 At the head of the table, Vice President Davis was looking at me, his expression souring. “Ava Chen. Are you going to present or not?” In my past life, this was the moment where the pain became so unbearable that I could no longer focus. I had begged him, my voice hoarse. “Mr. Davis, could I possibly present a little later? My head is killing me…” I never expected him to sneer and immediately give the promotion to the “dedicated” Isla. He then announced that because of my “irresponsibility,” our entire team was disqualified from the review process. From that moment on, I was the team’s scapegoat. So it was the comments all along. Now, Mr. Davis was tapping his pen impatiently on the table. “Ava, we’re all waiting.” Every eye in the room was on me, a mixture of scrutiny and annoyance. Right on cue, Isla let out a soft, sharp gasp, as if struck by a wave of pain, and spoke in a gentle voice. “Mr. Davis, perhaps I should go first? Ava doesn’t look well at all…” I took a deep breath, fighting down the nausea and the stabbing pain in my temples, and slowly got to my feet. This time was different. I could see the comments now. I would not let Isla Vance build her career on my bones again. “My apologies for the delay, Mr. Davis, everyone.” My voice was steadier than I expected. “I am feeling unwell, it’s true. But this review is crucial, and I won’t let a personal issue affect the team’s evaluation.” I picked up the presentation clicker, my grip so tight my knuckles turned white, steadying the slight tremor in my hand. “I will begin my presentation now.” “If I’m unclear at any point, I apologize in advance.” I paused, my eyes scanning the floating text, and allowed a faint, humorless smile to touch my lips. “And I’d like to reassure all my colleagues, especially those so… concerned about my health.” “I will not be deserting my post and dragging you all down with me.” The room fell silent. Mr. Davis’s frown lessened slightly, clearly surprised by my response. I saw Isla’s hand, the one on her abdomen, stiffen for a fraction of a second. I centered myself and began, my voice still a bit weak, a cold sweat breaking out on my back. But every word, every data point, landed exactly where it was supposed to. By the time I finished, my shirt was soaked through. Mr. Davis’s brow, once furrowed, was now smooth. He nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. Though my colleagues still looked confused, a scattered, hesitant applause broke out. I let out a silent sigh of relief. This time, I could change my fate. But the next second, the comments reappeared. 【Wait, she actually finished? She was totally faking it!】 【Unlike our Isla, who spent three sleepless nights preparing, this one probably threw her slides together in thirty minutes.】 The text scrolled on, fueling the fire of hatred in my heart. Mr. Davis frowned, considering for a moment. “Alright, Ava, if you’re not well, you’re excused. Isla, you’re up.” Isla gave a small nod, then swayed on her feet as if she were about to collapse. 【See! THAT’S what not feeling well really looks like!】 【Isla’s parents are business titans. She’s been learning from the best since she was a kid. I can’t wait to see her presentation!】 【If Isla gets this promotion, her powerful family will definitely throw some business our way!】 I stepped out of the conference room just as Isla finished her presentation to thunderous applause. Mr. Davis personally walked her back to her seat. “Despite feeling unwell, Isla delivered a stellar presentation. Her dedication is commendable, and her work is consistently excellent.” Standing outside the door, I couldn’t help but scoff. Her tasks were so simple it was nearly impossible to screw them up. Isla’s voice trembled as she thanked the leadership team, earning even more sympathy from the room. Then, Mr. Davis made the announcement. “There’s no need for anyone else to present. Based on today’s performance and past achievements, the promotion goes to Isla Vance!” A strange mix of bitter resentment and profound relief washed over me. I was the top performer in the department, by a huge margin. But because I was an orphan, because I didn’t have a pair of millionaire parents, did all my hard work count for nothing? Was my life, the one I’d lost, so easily trampled upon? I heard her triumphant voice from inside. “Thank you, Mr. Davis. I will do my best to lead the team and fight for this company’s success.” Isla’s long hair fell across her face, but not before I saw the venomous, triumphant look she shot in my direction. My blood ran cold. She was still coming for me. But this time, Isla, things are different. I turned and walked away, throwing myself into my work with twice the energy. It was my only defense, as Isla had already pushed me out of all core projects, demoting me to an office gofer—making coffee, running errands, and handling the thankless task of department purchasing and reimbursements. This was where she had trapped me in my last life. So now, every time I submitted a claim, I checked it three times over. One afternoon, as my reimbursement form made its way to the finance department, the damnable comments appeared again. 【Red alert! Ava Chen didn’t buy all this stuff! She’s inflating the prices!】 【I saw her use the company card to buy a luxury handbag for herself! The receipt is mixed in with the others!】 【Contrast that with our Isla. The department went slightly over budget on the last team event, and she quietly paid the difference out of her own pocket!】 The finance manager’s face darkened visibly. He stopped his pen mid-stamp and picked up my forms, scrutinizing them. Finally, he pulled out a few of the larger receipts. “Ava Chen,” he said, his voice grave. “These ‘Premium Client Gift Sets’ and ‘Executive Welcome Packages’… the unit price seems a bit high, don’t you think? Explain yourself. Are you using company funds to buy personal items?” Just then, Isla’s soft, gentle voice cut in. “Mr. Peterson, it’s all my fault. Ava probably isn’t familiar with all the reimbursement policies yet… It’s possible a few personal receipts got mixed in by accident. Please forgive her.” She was pretending to help, but she was just fanning the flames. The comments immediately piled on. 【Isla is too kind, still defending her!】 【How could she have so many receipts! Something is definitely fishy!】 My stomach dropped. This was exactly how it happened before. The baseless accusations from the comments, combined with a photo Isla had produced from god-knows-where of me supposedly carrying a new designer bag. I was left defenseless, branded an embezzler. My claim was rejected, my salary was docked, and the money was given to Isla as a “whistleblower reward.” I shot a sharp look at her. “Team Leader Vance, what exactly are you implying? Did you personally see me include personal receipts? Do you have proof? Please, point them out.” Isla was taken aback by my direct confrontation, momentarily speechless. But then she seemed to remember something and produced a photo she had prepared. The manager took it, his expression shifting again. But this time, I smiled. In my past life, I had the photo analyzed after the fact. It was a picture of Isla herself, with my face sloppily photoshopped onto her body. But by then, the punishment had been handed down, and I had no energy left to fight. That one incident led to relentless workplace bullying, a deep depression, and ultimately, my murder at Isla’s hands. I would not let her win this time. I calmly opened a folder I had prepared. “Mr. Peterson, here are the approval forms, contracts, delivery confirmations, and signed collection logs for every single purchase.” I handed him the documents, one by one, and then held up my phone. “Those ‘Premium Gift Sets’ you mentioned? They were custom-made for the core team on our latest project. They were personally approved by Mr. Davis.” I showed him a photo of the gift boxes, emblazoned with the company logo and the project’s commemorative text. My evidence was irrefutable. The manager’s expression softened considerably as he reviewed my meticulous documentation. “As for this photo…” I raised my voice, pulling up the original picture that Isla herself had posted on her social media. “Mr. Peterson, I believe this is what you’re looking for.” His eyes, now sharp as daggers, shot toward Isla. I let out a cold laugh. “Isla, you need to work on your photoshop skills. That nail color, that design… I saw you with that exact manicure just last week.” I paused deliberately, watching as she instinctively tried to hide her hands. “You buy yourself a luxury bag, then use a cheap AI filter to paste my face onto your body to frame me. Did you really think everyone is as obsessed with embezzling company funds as you are?” Isla trembled, her face ashen. The comments exploded. 【Isla was just doing her job as a team leader! She’s a rich girl, why would she steal from the company?!】 【Exactly! Her parents own hundreds of companies, all bigger than this one!】 【If they punish Isla over something this petty, the company will lose more than it gains.】 Mr. Peterson, who had been about to erupt, stared into the empty air for a moment, his anger visibly deflating. “Alright, Isla’s family is wealthy enough that she wouldn’t need to stoop to this. It was just a misunderstanding. We’ll leave it at that.” I looked at Isla, and asked softly, “Isla, are you really from a wealthy family?” My question stunned everyone. A flicker of disbelief crossed Isla’s eyes. “What did you just say? Do I not know my own family?” Her voice was laced with anger. I said nothing more and turned to leave, my hand tightening around a photograph sent to me by the orphanage. A month passed. Isla seemed to be laying low, but bouquets of flowers began appearing on her desk with increasing frequency. My desk was directly opposite hers, and even with a mask on, the pollen was a constant irritant to my respiratory system. The memory of suffocating to death was seared into my brain. I kept my asthma inhaler within arm’s reach at all times, using it at the first sign of trouble. But one day, I had just sat down when my chest tightened. Isla wasn’t there. There were no flowers. A cold sweat soaked my back as the familiar, suffocating tightness seized my lungs. I immediately reached for my inhaler in the drawer. It was gone. I tried to stand, but my vision was tunneling. The damned comments appeared right on schedule. 【Here she goes again, faking sick for sympathy! Last time it was a headache, what is it now? So much drama!】 【She’s not sick, she’s pregnant and wants to trap someone! Whoever takes her to the hospital is gonna get blamed!】 【Stay away from her before she tries to pin it on you!】 I desperately looked at my colleagues, but their eyes were a mixture of suspicion, disgust, and cold indifference. Some even looked entertained. There was no concern, no urgency. Isla’s voice appeared as if from nowhere. “Oh my, Ava, what’s wrong? You look terrible…” She was holding a scruffy, long-haired cat. “Here, why don’t you hold this cute little stray? Maybe it’ll make you feel better.” “Get it away!” I rasped. Clouds of cat hair filled the air, and the lack of oxygen made it almost impossible to speak. I tried to back away, but she moved to block my path. “I was just washing him in the restroom, and you know, someone left a pregnancy test in the trash! I wonder who’s expecting?” she mused loudly. The comments immediately connected the dots. 【It’s Ava’s! She’s trying to find a baby daddy at the office!】 My colleagues’ gazes became even more avoidant. “Oh well, I was probably mistaken,” Isla said sweetly. “Come on, Ava, let me help you to the break room.” She dropped the cat and grabbed my arm, her grip shockingly strong, pulling me toward the break room. The memory of that door, the freezing 60-degree air, the click of the lock—it all came flooding back in a wave of terror. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I tore myself from her grasp and fell to the floor, gasping for air, unable to move. “Someone… please… get the medicine from my bag,” I choked out. “I’ll give you… ten thousand dollars.” Almost instantly, I heard the scrape of a chair. A glimmer of hope. But then Isla let out a piercing scream. “Don’t listen to her! That’s not asthma medication!” Her voice was laced with a desperate, vicious malice. “It’s a new designer drug! Look at her! She’s not having an asthma attack, she’s an addict going through withdrawal!” “If you give that to her, you’re helping her do drugs! That’s a crime! Do you all want to go to jail?!” My colleagues’ expressions morphed into horror. They scrambled backward, away from me. No… that’s not it… I couldn’t speak, my body convulsing on the floor like a suffocating fish. Was I doomed to repeat my fate? To be murdered by Isla Vance all over again? Suddenly, a powerful, middle-aged man’s voice boomed from the office entrance. “Which one of you is Ava Chen?” Behind him stood an elegantly dressed woman of the same age. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on me, purple-faced and dying on the floor. She cried out, rushing through the stunned crowd to cradle me in her arms.

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On my birthday, my girlfriend, the undisputed queen bee of Manhattan’s elite, bailed on me again. This time, to hand out flyers for a foot massage parlor. “You’re loaded,” I said, barely containing my anger. “Do you really have to play this ‘poor girl’ game?” Jennifer’s voice turned to ice. “I told you, I’m buying a gift for Leo with my own hard-earned money. And speaking of which, you need to get down to the spa right now, Asher. I signed you up for a shift. We’re still a few hundred bucks short for his new laptop.” I nearly ground my teeth to dust. “I’m done playing this game, Jennifer. We’re over. The engagement is off.” 1 I hung up, but Jennifer’s calls kept coming, one after another, like a death knell. I finally blocked her number out of sheer frustration. My friend stared at me, his eyes wide. “Dude, Jennifer actually called you, and you hung up on her?” Everyone in our circle knew I was Jennifer’s lapdog. I’d chased her for over a decade, and she only agreed to marry me because our families insisted on a merger. For years, she was the center of my universe, but I could never melt her frozen heart. I was tired. I raised my glass with a smile. “Here’s to my birthday, and to being single again!” The words landed like a lead weight. The private room fell silent, everyone frozen in place. Suddenly, the door swung open. “Asher, you snake! You scored a free night in the VIP suite and didn’t even invite us?” Jennifer breezed in, dragging a slightly awkward-looking Leo with her. In a room full of designer clothes and old money, Jennifer’s twenty-dollar fast-fashion t-shirt and Leo’s generic sneakers stuck out like a sore thumb. But instantly, the entire room shifted gears. Conversations about yachts and Michelin-starred restaurants morphed into debates over the best takeout deals, everyone playing along with Jennifer’s charade. My eyes immediately locked onto the Omega watch on Leo’s wrist. The same one I’d bought with the money I’d earned driving for Uber after my day job and pulling all-nighters on freelance projects. Leo noticed my gaze and asked with faux innocence, “Hey, Asher, you’re not mad, are you? That Jennifer used the money you worked so hard for to buy me this watch?” I scoffed and looked at Jennifer. She didn’t say a word to shut down his obvious provocation. Instead, she soothed him. “Don’t worry about it, Leo. The gifts I give you are bought with my money. No one else has a right to be upset.” It was clear who Manhattan’s queen bee favored. My so-called friends immediately fell in line. “Yeah, Leo, don’t sweat it. Jennifer can spoil whoever she wants.” “You’ve got great style, man!” “We’re all Jennifer’s friends, so we’re your friends. Anything you need, just ask.” A wave of bitterness washed over me. Some of the people fawning over him were my childhood friends, guys I’d known for twenty years. But two decades of friendship meant nothing against the queen bee’s affection for her pet project. Just then, the waiter wheeled in the massive custom cake I’d ordered. I was about to blow out the candles, a small act of catharsis, when I heard Leo’s ridiculously exaggerated gasp behind me. “Whoa! I’ve never seen a cake this big! Asher, can I make a wish and blow out the candles? Can I cut it?” I gritted my teeth, blew out the candles in one sharp breath, and took the knife from the waiter. “No.” Leo’s smile froze on his face. He clearly hadn’t expected me to refuse him. “Asher, you’re being so cheap! It’s just a cake! What’s the big deal if Leo cuts it?” “Yeah, man, you won’t even do that for Jennifer’s friend?” “Don’t worry, Leo. Next time, we’ll all chip in and get you an even bigger one!” Even my best friend called me stingy. And Leo, the cause of it all, just stood there looking innocent. “It’s fine if Asher doesn’t want to. It’s no big deal.” “Of course it’s a big deal if Leo wants it!” Jennifer strode over and snatched the knife from my hand. She moved so fast that the tip of the blade sliced my cheek. A sharp, stinging pain, followed by beads of blood. Someone bumped into me, and I stumbled back. The crowd swarmed around Leo, cheering him on as he prepared to cut the cake. I was pushed to the periphery. It was my goddamn birthday. My fists clenched. The anger boiled over. I pushed through the crowd and, with all my strength, flipped the entire cake onto the floor. My eyes were burning as I stared at Jennifer. “I’m done with this act!” She lunged to cover my mouth, but the words were already out. “If you and Leo want to play at being poor—” She clamped her hand over my mouth, her eyes darting nervously to Leo. When she saw that his expression hadn’t changed, that he apparently hadn’t heard, she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she dragged me into a corner. “Asher,” she hissed, her voice a low threat, “if you say one more word, we are done. Don’t think this engagement gives you a free pass to do whatever you want.” The coldness in her eyes pierced me to the bone. The years of love I’d given her felt like a pathetic joke. I nodded forcefully. Only then did she release me. I gasped for air. “Jennifer, we’re already done. Whatever you and Leo do from now on has nothing to do with me.” She stared at me for a second, then scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “Don’t be so dramatic, Asher. You’ve been playing hard to get for twenty years. Can’t you come up with something new? You were the one who was dying to marry me. You really think I’m going to believe you want to break up?” I saw the impatience in her eyes and just laughed. Before I could say anything else, Leo walked over, a worried frown on his face. “Jennifer, there’s a problem with the New Peak proposal. The boss wants me to go back to the office and fix it now.” He looked down at his clothes. “But my shirt got cake on it.” When Jennifer looked at him, her expression softened with a warmth I’d never seen directed at me. She gently wiped a smudge of frosting from his cheek. “Don’t worry, Leo. It’s okay.” Her eyes then flicked to me, her voice once again imperious. “Asher, you go back to the office and fix the New Peak proposal.” “Why should I do his work? It’s my birthday. I’m on vacation. It’s his job, he can do it.” Jennifer’s face darkened. “You have thirty minutes to get back to the office.” She scanned the room, her voice a whip crack. “Birthday’s over. Everybody out.” The room went silent. Thirty seconds later, I was alone in the trashed suite. I touched the cut on my cheek and winced. Being with Jennifer was like this. Getting close to her always meant getting hurt. This painful relationship should have ended a long time ago. Since we were broken up, there was no reason for me to stay at the family company, playing at being a low-level employee. The study abroad plans I’d postponed for years were finally back on the table. I leaned back on the sofa and submitted my resignation through the company portal. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable angry phone call from Jennifer, rejecting my resignation. But it never came. Instead, I opened my phone to see that Jennifer, from her desk in the executive suite, had approved it. She was even more ruthless than I’d imagined. I let out a bitter laugh. Well, if she wanted a clean break, so did I. I drove to the office to pack my things. To keep up the “poor” charade, my desk only held a cheap mug and a framed photo of me and Jennifer on our first day working in the trenches. At first, I thought we were genuinely experiencing what it was like for our employees. Jennifer was earning a pittance but still insisted on treating me to expensive dinners. We lived in a rundown rental, messing around like any other recent college grads—broke but happy. I thought that after twenty years, I had finally won her heart. I never imagined she was only there to get close to Leo. I tore the photo to shreds and threw it in the trash. As I packed my few belongings, a familiar, cloying voice called out. “Asher, you’re really leaving?” It was Leo, his surprise as fake as his sneakers. I rolled my eyes and walked past him without a word. He darted in front of me and then, as if on cue, let out a yelp and crumpled to the floor. Jennifer came running, immediately fussing over him. Seeing that he was unharmed, she rounded on me. “Asher, why did you push Leo? Apologize to him right now!” Leo tugged on her sleeve, biting his lip. “Jennifer, don’t be mad. Asher didn’t mean to push me. He’s just stressed about the New Peak proposal.” At the mention of the proposal, her face went cold. “Where is it? Why haven’t you submitted it yet?” “I resigned yesterday, Jennifer. Find someone else to do it,” I said, my voice tight, and started to walk away. “Stop!” She grabbed my wrist. “Company proposals are confidential. How do we know you didn’t steal it?” A crowd of coworkers gathered, and my face burned with humiliation. I emptied my bag onto the floor. “Then by all means, Team Leader, take your time and inspect everything. I don’t want the bag or anything in it.” I turned and left, ignoring her shouts and accusations. Back at the apartment we’d shared for over a year, I opened my laptop. I unfollowed her on every platform, changed the desktop background from our photo, and deleted a terabyte’s worth of pictures of us. After packing a few essentials into my smallest suitcase, I was ready to go. There was a knock on the door. Thinking it was Jennifer, who was always forgetting her keys, I opened it. It was Leo. He slipped past me before I could react. His eyes scanned the matching pajamas on the clothes rack, the two worn-out indentations on the old sofa. He saw the wall covered in our photos, and his eyes turned red with jealousy. He strode over and started tearing them down. “Don’t think she loves you, Asher,” he sneered, kicking over our laundry rack. “What woman would let the man she loves suffer? She made you play this game with her, but she saved up to buy me anything I wanted.” He kicked over our small folding table, his face a mask of triumph. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. “You knew she was faking it?” He looked at me like I was an idiot. “She’s been on the cover of Forbes, Asher. Everyone knows who she is.” His expression hardened. “Jennifer is mine. Don’t fight me for her, or I’ll make sure you lose everything.” I laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in your trash.” I glanced at the wrecked apartment, feeling nothing but a desire to leave. I picked up my suitcase and headed down the stairs. Two steps down, I was shoved hard from behind. I stumbled, and the world became a blur of motion as I tumbled down the staircase. I looked up to see Leo at the top of the stairs, a cruel smile on his face. Then, his expression changed. He deliberately tripped and fell, landing next to me. Seconds later, Jennifer appeared. She gently helped Leo to his feet, checking him for injuries before her eyes finally fell on my bleeding forehead. Her expression softened, and she started to help me up. But then Leo started to cry. “Jennifer, I’m not a homewrecker. I don’t want to come between you and Asher.” At his words, she instantly dropped me and rushed to his side, cooing and comforting him. Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with murderous rage. “Asher, what is your problem? Why do you keep bullying Leo? Do you really think I can’t do anything to you, or your family?” She helped Leo to his feet. “Leo, don’t listen to his jealous ramblings. Let’s go to the hospital.” Leo didn’t move. His voice was choked with tears. “Jennifer… Asher said you’re the queen bee of Manhattan. Is that true?” Jennifer flinched. She forced a calm she didn’t feel. “What? Of course not. Don’t listen to him.” “He also said I’m only with you for your money. That I’m not good enough for you, and that he’s the one who’s in your league.” His voice broke. “I’m sorry, Asher… Jennifer, I think… I think I’m really in love with you.” Jennifer’s whole body trembled. Her grip on his hand tightened. “Leo,” she whispered, “I love you too.” She glanced at me as if I were a roadblock to their happiness. “Asher is just paranoid. He’s just saying that to upset you.” Leo’s tear-filled eyes brightened. “Really?” “Have I ever lied to you?” After soothing him, she turned her icy gaze back to me, her jaw clenched. “Asher!” The veins in her neck bulged, her eyes were bloodshot. Her voice was a low growl. “There’s a limit to how jealous you can be!” She looked down at me on the floor, then helped Leo step over my body and walk away. I pushed myself up, my whole body aching, and dragged my injured leg out to the street to hail a cab to the hospital. In the emergency room, as a doctor cleaned the gash on my forehead, I saw a group of nurses whispering by the door. “That’s the queen bee’s fiancé. He must have pissed her off.” “She’s in the room across the hall with her new boy-toy, getting him a full check-up. She’s so worried about him.” “I bet the boy-toy is the future king of Manhattan.” They giggled and then flocked into the room across the hall. After my wound was stitched and dressed, I lay in a hospital bed, booked a one-way ticket to Paris for that night, and closed my eyes. A few minutes later, I sensed a presence. Jennifer was standing by my bed, her face dark. “Leo wants to break up with me,” she said, her voice tight. “Are you happy now?” Her fists were clenched, her eyes blazing. She grabbed my shirt and dragged me out of the bed. I hit the floor hard, the pain in my head exploding. “You’re going to go to Leo and tell him you made it all up. Tell him I’m not some rich girl, that you lied about everything.” Seeing her so frantic, I couldn’t help but laugh. She was being played just as much as I had been. My laughter seemed to push her over the edge. She started dragging me out of the room. “Jennifer, let go of me! I didn’t tell him any of that! He knew who you were from the beginning!” She stopped, her eyes like chips of ice. “Still trying to slander him, even now?” She dragged me to Leo’s bedside and threw me to the floor. I caught a glimpse of the smug, triumphant look in Leo’s eyes before he arranged his face into a mask of wounded innocence for Jennifer. She gently stroked his hair. “Asher,” she said, her voice dangerously calm, “tell me why you made up this story to trick Leo.” I just smiled, a sad, tired smile. My flight was in a few hours. I didn’t want any more drama. I looked at Leo. “You’re right. I made it all up. Jennifer is just a regular intern.” I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my lips. Seeing that Jennifer had calmed down, I said, “Can I go now?” She seemed to snap out of a trance, a flicker of something I couldn’t identify—panic?—in her eyes. I left the hospital and went straight to the airport. At the gate, my phone buzzed with messages from a new number. It was Jennifer. “Asher, where are you?” “I booked a suite at the Plaza. Let me make it up to you for your birthday.” “Leo is timid. He’d be scared if he knew who I really was. If you help me keep this secret, I’ll honor our engagement. We can get married next month, just like we planned.” I snapped my SIM card in half and boarded the plane.

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1 The day I won a brand-new BMW, my phone rang. It was me, calling from ten years in the future. “Don’t let Ethan borrow the car,” my own voice urged. “He’ll use it to pay a gambling debt.” When my brother asked, I refused outright. That night, driving his old sedan to see our parents, he crashed and was left in a vegetative state. Guilt overwhelmed me. Only my parents’ care kept me going. Then my future self called again, coldly mocking: “It’s an act. They want your heart for Ethan.” I found donation forms in their bag. Enraged, I cut them off and threw them out. After Ethan died from blood loss, I learned the truth: they needed my blood, not my heart. Desperate to apologize, I tried to find them—but my future self warned: “They hate you. They’ll drag you down.” I hesitated. Then came the call: my parents were murdered in a break-in. Rushing to them, I was hit by a truck. Dying, I wondered why my future self would ruin my life. Then I opened my eyes… back to the day I won the car. … “[Aurora], you have to listen to me,” my own voice hissed from the phone. “Ethan will definitely ask for the car. Don’t you dare lend it to him. He’s just going to use it to settle his debts.” A violent shiver ran down my spine, and the phone clattered to the floor. “Congratulations, Ms. Evans,” a staff member said, holding out a shiny new set of keys. “You’re the winner of the BMW sedan!” Looking at the keys, it finally sank in. I was back. I had been reborn on the very day it all started. On the phone, my future self was warning me, pleading with me not to let my brother borrow the car. The first time this happened, I didn’t believe it. I saw my own number on the caller ID and assumed it was some elaborate prank. But then she started revealing secrets—tiny, hidden things from my childhood that no one else could possibly know. I had no choice but to believe she was me. She swore that if I lent Ethan the car, he would immediately hand it over to his creditors. So, when he called, I stood firm and refused. But that night, he crashed his old car on the way to see Mom and Dad, leaving him a vegetable. The accident report concluded the wreck was caused by mechanical failure in his aging vehicle—a tragedy that a new, safer car would have prevented. My refusal had doomed him. The guilt was a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs. I cried until I passed out, convinced I had killed my brother. It was my parents who nursed me back to health, their tireless care a gentle balm on my shattered soul. Just as I was starting to feel human again, the phone rang. This time, the voice was a cold sneer. “[It’s all fake! I thought they really cared about me, too. That’s why I didn’t think twice about the chicken soup they made.]” “[The next thing I knew, I was strapped to an operating table. They were going to take my heart for Ethan.]” Following my future self’s instructions, I found the donation forms in my mother’s purse. Blinded by rage, I kicked my parents out, ignoring their frantic pounding on my door all night. Then came the news: Ethan had died. He hadn’t gotten a blood transfusion in time. They hadn’t wanted my heart at all, just my blood. Shame and regret washed over me. I had to find them, to apologize, to explain everything. But the phone rang again. “[This time, you listen to me and you do exactly as I say! Mom and Dad are destroyed. They blame you for Ethan’s death, and they don’t want to live anymore. If you go to them now, they won’t listen to reason. They’ll just try to take you with them.]” So I stayed away, telling myself I’d give them time to cool off. That night, burglars broke into their home and killed them. My mind fractured. I had to see them, just one last time. Racing there, I ran into the street and was struck and killed by a truck. As my life faded, the phone rang one final time. Through the speaker, I heard a faint, chilling laugh. This time would be different. This time, I would write my own ending and escape the tragedy of my past life. Snapping back to the present, I ignored the voice from the phone and sent a text. “Ethan, you’re not going to believe this. I won a BMW! You love cars. Want to take it for a spin for a few days?” Ethan rushed over, his eyes glued to the sleek new car. “Wow, Aurora. Seriously? Congratulations!” “You came just in time,” I said, nudging him toward the driver’s side. “Get in. Try it out.” He slid into the driver’s seat, his hands stroking the leather-wrapped steering wheel as his eyes lit up. “What a machine,” he murmured, over and over. “A real beauty.” Seeing the pure joy on his face, I remembered the mangled wreck of his old car, the image seared into my brain. I held out the keys. “It’s yours. Take it.” He looked up, surprised. “Aurora, what are you doing?” I smiled. “Just take it, Ethan. That old car of yours is a death trap. It’s time for an upgrade.” He hesitated, though his fingers never stopped caressing the wheel. “But it’s your prize. I can’t just…” “Don’t be silly. We’re family. A car this nice should be driven by someone who’ll really appreciate it, don’t you think?” That seemed to do the trick. “Well… okay, then.” He drove off, a massive grin on his face. I had made a different choice. I had changed the past. Everything was going to be okay now. But before I could even begin to relax, the phone rang that evening. It was the hospital. “Is this Aurora Evans? Your brother has been in an accident. You need to come to the hospital immediately.” “An accident?” My voice was a strangled whisper. “That’s impossible. He was driving a brand-new car.” “His condition is critical. Please, get here as soon as you can.” When I arrived, my mind was a maelstrom of confusion. How could this have happened again? I had given him the new car. This wasn’t supposed to happen! “What happened to my brother?” I demanded. My sister-in-law, Jessica, who had arrived first, was a sobbing wreck. The moment she saw me, her grief twisted into rage. She lunged, her fingers clamping around my throat. “You jinx!” she shrieked. “You cursed woman! If a passerby hadn’t found him after he crawled halfway up that ravine, my baby would have been born without a father!” Nurses rushed to pull us apart. “Ma’am, please, you need to calm down!” one of them urged, before turning to me. “Mr. Evans’ car went off a cliff on the mountain road. By the time the ambulance arrived, we only found a few fragments of the vehicle. The car itself must have gone all the way down.” “He was covered in so much blood we couldn’t recognize him. We only identified him from the driver’s license we found nearby.” “But the car was brand new!” I protested, my voice cracking. “There couldn’t have been anything wrong with it!” Jessica’s glare was venomous. “You know how much he loves cars! If you hadn’t insisted on him taking that BMW, he never would have been on that road! He never would have crashed!” Was it my fault? Again? The doctor offered a possible explanation. “It’s possible the new car handled differently than what he was used to. He might have misjudged the power on a sharp turn, causing him to lose control.” The world tilted on its axis. I stumbled, my legs threatening to give out. How could this be? I thought giving him the safe, new car would save him. But instead, my insistence had sent him plunging off a cliff. My desperate attempt to fix the past had once again left my brother’s life hanging by a thread. My father put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Aurora. You just wanted something good for your brother.” My mother pulled me into a hug, stroking my hair. “He got help in time. He’s out of danger. He’s going to be okay.” I collapsed against her, sobbing. Worried I would spiral back into guilt, my parents stayed by my side day and night, their warmth a fragile shield. My spirits slowly began to lift. Then, just like before, I knew the call was coming. The one warning me to be wary of my parents. I didn’t even touch the screen, but the call connected automatically. “[Aurora, I’m so sorry about Ethan. But this is not your fault.]” “[Trust me. Don’t drink the soup they’re going to bring you. They’re planning to take you to the hospital and cut out your heart for Ethan.]” That evening, Mom brought me a bowl of chicken soup. I pulled out the donation consent form I’d found in my father’s bag and laid it on the table. “You want me to give blood to Ethan, don’t you?” My mother’s hand froze mid-air. She shot a panicked look at my father. He looked down, his face a mask of guilt. “Aurora, we know you’ve always been afraid of needles, we were worried…” “I’ll do it,” I cut in. “I’m scared, yes. But my brother’s life is more important.” Last time, my refusal had cost Ethan precious time. This time, I would cooperate. This time, he would be fine. I signed the form. My mother looked at me, her eyes glistening with what I thought were tears of pride. “Our Aurora’s all grown up. So responsible.” This time, I walked into the hospital with my parents, fully conscious. When I woke up from the procedure, my entire body throbbed with a deep, grinding ache. I swung my legs out of bed and was seized by a wracking cough. I gasped for breath, spitting something thick into my hand. Blood clots. A wave of dizziness washed over me. Had my immune system crashed? Why was I having such a violent reaction to a simple blood donation? Before I could process it, the door to my room was kicked open. It was Jessica. Her face was a storm cloud of fury. “You murderer!” she screamed. “You killed him! You killed your own brother!” I stared at her, completely bewildered. “What are you talking about? He’s dead? But he got my blood…” It didn’t make sense. I had done everything differently. I had obeyed my parents. I hadn’t listened to the phone. How could Ethan be dead again? Jessica ignored my confusion, her voice rising to a fever pitch. “Stop playing dumb! You did this on purpose! You knew you had AIDS, and you gave him your blood anyway?” “He went into septic shock from the contaminated transfusion! He died right there on the table!” “Why would you do that to him? Just because he wrecked the precious BMW? How could you be so evil?” AIDS? Me? Impossible. “No,” I stammered, shaking my head. “I would never… I couldn’t…” “Still lying? Then how did my husband die?” Jessica marched out of the room and returned moments later, shoving a lab report in my face. “Here’s the proof! Now what do you have to say?” Her hand flew out and a sharp crack echoed in the room as my head snapped to the side. “Undeniable proof,” she spat. “How are you going to lie your way out of this one?” My cheek stung, but my eyes were fixed on the paper. There it was, in black and white. The blood I gave Ethan had tested positive for HIV. My world shattered. I was careful. My health checks were always perfect. How could I have HIV? Jessica’s rage was a physical force, her fists and feet finding their marks as she pummeled me. “Ethan worshipped you his whole life! He treated you like a princess! And you repay him like this? He’ll never rest in peace!” Her words were daggers in my heart. Was it true? Had I really killed my brother? “That’s enough, Jessica!” my father’s voice boomed. “Ethan is gone. Stop tormenting Aurora. Go home.” “I feel dirty just touching her!” she spat, giving me one last, hateful glare before storming out to handle the funeral arrangements. “I’m so sorry, Mom, Dad,” I sobbed, the guilt a suffocating tide. “I swear I didn’t mean to kill him! I wanted to save him. I don’t know how… I don’t know how I got sick!” I was babbling, repeating myself, a broken record of apology. My mother just shook her head and wrapped her arms around me. “Don’t talk about it anymore, Aurora. Let’s go home. Come have dinner with us.” As she held me, my phone buzzed. My own voice drifted out, a ghostly whisper: “[You killed your brother. Mom and Dad hate you now. If you go home with them, they’re just planning to kill you before killing themselves.]” Last time, I had listened. I had avoided my parents, and because of that, I wasn’t there to protect them when the burglars came. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I squeezed my mother’s hand. “Let’s go home together.” Dinner was a somber affair, the shadow of Ethan’s death hanging over the table. But my parents kept putting food on my plate, asking if I had enough to eat. They were grieving, yes, but they didn’t hate me. They were worried about me. See? I thought to myself, a small, bitter victory. They don’t hate me. I’m their daughter. The voice on the phone was wrong. It was all a lie. The next day, my parents said they wanted to stay home, to be left alone with their grief. I was about to agree when a flash of memory from my past life hit me: my parents, murdered in their own home. There was only one way to prevent that. “Mom, Dad, Ethan is gone,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “You’re all I have left. I can’t lose you, too.” “Let’s move.” I found them a place in an older, quiet apartment complex. The building was dated, but the neighborhood was safe and full of other retirees. They wouldn’t be lonely here. For the next few days, I was a fortress of caution. Every morning before leaving for work, I’d remind them not to open the door for strangers. Every evening, I’d take them for a walk after dinner. Life settled into a gentle, healing rhythm. But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t stop what was coming. One afternoon, I came home with groceries to find the world had turned to ash. “No…” I whispered, my heart seizing. The apartment was a blackened, hollowed-out shell. Firefighters were everywhere, but it was too late. They couldn’t even find my parents’ bodies. “It was an electrical fire,” the fire chief told me, his face grim. “Started with some faulty wiring.” He looked at me, a hint of accusation in his eyes. “Did you check the power sources before you left this morning?” “I…” My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the ground. So, it was me. I had killed them. In my obsessive need to protect them, I had trapped them. My love had become their tomb. Jessica arrived, her face a mask of triumphant fury. “You curse!” she screamed, pointing a trembling finger at me. “You’re not human! Killing your brother wasn’t enough, was it? Now Mom and Dad are nothing but dust! Are you happy now that you’ve wiped out the entire family?” “No, Jessica, it was dangerous outside, I just wanted them to be safe…” I tried to explain, but the words died in my throat. “You locked them in there!” she shrieked. “You gave them no way to escape! You’re a monster!” “I’m putting all of this online. I’m going to let the whole world see what kind of monster you are!” She did. She posted the entire story: how I’d given my brother HIV-tainted blood, and how I’d then trapped my parents in a house that burned to the ground. The internet exploded. The consensus was universal. I was the villain. “She’s not a sister, she’s the damn Grim Reaper!” “That poor sister-in-law, trying to hold the family together while this psycho destroys it.” “This is premeditated murder. Lock her up and throw away the key!” “Her name is Aurora Evans. We have her address. Don’t let her get away with this.” The messages flooded in—hate mail, threats. I was a pariah. The guilt was a cancer, eating me alive from the inside out. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. Jessica’s daily visits, filled with fresh new torments and accusations, wore me down to nothing. “How can you still be alive when you’ve destroyed everyone around you?” she would hiss. Finally, I broke. I found myself on the roof of my building, staring down at the city lights twinkling far below. It could all be over. “I’m sorry, Jessica,” I whispered to the wind. “For everything.” She had followed me up, her voice a relentless whip. “Don’t think putting on a sad face is going to fix anything. You don’t have the guts to jump!” But as I looked at her, at the raw, undisguised eagerness on her face, everything suddenly clicked into place. A cold, terrifying clarity washed over me. “This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” I said, turning to face her. “For me to do this.”

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