My sister-in-law was in the throes of a high-risk delivery, and as the hospital’s star obstetrician, I was the one they called to save her. My husband, Chad, was driving me, but halfway there, he took a different exit. He was taking me to deliver his childhood friend’s dog. “You’re an OB-GYN, you know what you’re doing,” he insisted. “Mimi is family to Susan. You have to save her!” I was losing my mind. “This is a life-or-death situation for a human being! Are you insane?” He just scoffed. “Mimi is a six-figure champion show dog. Do you really think some nobody at the hospital is more important?” In the end, the mother died in childbirth. We lost them both. When word got out that the patient’s family was raising hell at the hospital, Chad finally seemed to realize the gravity of what he’d done. He shielded his precious Susan and pushed me forward. “You’re the doctor,” he said. “This was your responsibility. You’re the one who needs to go beg for their forgiveness.” It wasn’t until we reached the family waiting area and he saw his own parents and his brother-in-law standing there that the color drained from his face. 1 I am the star obstetrician at City General Hospital. Today was a rare day off, but my morning was shattered by a frantic call from my department. “Dr. Hayes, we’ve got a bad one. A patient with a breech presentation took a fall, she’s in premature labor. It’s critical. We need you now!” A jolt went through me. I threw on my clothes and rushed to the garage, only then remembering my car was in the shop for the day. Just as I was about to call a cab, Chad pulled up, rolling down the window. “Heading to the hospital? I’ll give you a ride.” I didn’t waste a second, hopping into the passenger seat. We were halfway there, my phone buzzing with five missed messages from my assistant telling me the patient was already in the OR, when I urged Chad to drive faster. Just then, his phone rang. The car’s Bluetooth system answered automatically, and the tear-choked voice of his childhood friend, Susan, filled the small space. “Chad, you have to help me!” “It’s Mimi! She’s giving birth, and there’s blood everywhere! I don’t know what to do, please, you have to come help me!” Mimi was Susan’s pampered little dog. Chad’s voice immediately softened. “Hey, hey, don’t panic. It’s okay. I’m on my way.” I frowned, a familiar knot of irritation tightening in my stomach. Ever since Chad and I had gotten married, Susan had been a constant presence, a third wheel with zero sense of boundaries. And Chad, completely oblivious, catered to her every whim. Every time I got upset about it, he’d feed me the same line: “She’s like a sister to me.” His parents, who’d watched her grow up, always told me to be more understanding, which only made me feel petty and jealous. I couldn’t help but cut in. “Chad, you need to take me to the hospital first.” Susan fell silent for a moment when she heard my voice. Then, an idea seemed to strike her. “Oh, right! Evelyn, you’re an obstetrician! You must know how to deliver puppies, right?” Her voice broke into a sob. “Please, Evelyn, come with Chad. You have to save my Mimi!” Chad glanced at me, his eyes silently pleading for my agreement. “Absolutely not,” I said, my voice sharp. “There is a woman at the hospital who will die without my help. Your dog can go to a veterinary hospital.” “Chad, this is a matter of life and death. Don’t be an idiot.” 2 On the other end of the line, Susan went strangely quiet for a two-count, then burst into a full-blown wail. “I know you’re some high-and-mighty star doctor, Evelyn,” she said, her tone pitiful but laced with an undeniable arrogance. “But Mimi is my family. To me, her life is more important than anyone else’s!” Before hanging up, she shrieked at Chad, “If anything happens to Mimi, I’ll kill myself!” Chad panicked. He slammed on the brakes, pulling over to the side of the road. He frantically tried to call her back, but she rejected it every time, finally turning her phone off. He turned to me, his eyes blazing with accusation. “Evelyn, you know how much Mimi means to her. Why would you deliberately provoke her like that?” “If she does something stupid, I swear to God, I will never forgive you!” I was used to him taking her side, but the words still felt like a punch to the gut. Time was wasting. I was in no mood for this pointless argument. My face hardened. “Are you driving me or not? If not, I’m getting out.” “If you’re so worried about Susan, then go to her.” Seeing my fury, a flicker of panic crossed his face. For a second, I thought he understood. But as I reached for the door handle, he gritted his teeth and hit the central lock, trapping me inside. “Chad, what are you doing?” My eyes widened in disbelief as he stomped on the gas, cranked the steering wheel, and made a sharp U-turn, speeding in the opposite direction of the hospital. “I’m sorry, Eve, but I can’t risk it.” “Susan’s right. You’re an OB-GYN, you have experience. We’ll go to her place first, you’ll help Mimi deliver, and then I’ll take you to the hospital.” The blood rushed to my head. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you out of your mind, Chad?” I screamed. “I’m a doctor for humans, not a veterinarian!” “There is a woman dying in the hospital, and you want me to go deliver your friend’s puppies? Stop the car! Let me out!” I rattled the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. Chad swerved sharply, and my head slammed against the window, my vision spotting with black. He heard my cry of pain but pretended not to notice, his voice dripping with condescension. “When are you going to get off your high horse, Evelyn? Is a dog’s life really worth less than a person’s? Besides, Mimi is a champion show dog, worth six figures. You think some nobody dying in a hospital bed is more important than that?” 3 How could he say something so callous, so utterly dismissive of human life? I was stunned into silence, unable to process his words. My phone rang, snapping me back to reality. It was my assistant. “Dr. Hayes, where are you? The patient’s vitals are dropping. You’re the only one who’s handled a case like this before, you have to hurry…” Before she could finish, the phone was snatched from her hand. A woman’s panicked, sobbing voice came through the speaker. It was my mother-in-law. “Evelyn, where are you?” “It’s your sister-in-law in the operating room! It’s Sarah! She fell this morning and went into labor! The doctors say you’re the only one with a real chance of saving her. How much longer will you be?” Sarah? It hit me like a ton of bricks. The patient waiting for me, the life hanging in the balance, was my sister-in-law. Chad’s own sister. Her pregnancy had been difficult from the start. A fall, premature labor… this was the worst-case scenario. A cold sweat broke out on my palms. Before I could say a word, Chad, stopped at a red light, lunged across the console, ripped the phone from my hand, ended the call, and shut it off without a second thought. “Chad, give me back my phone!” I shrieked. “Don’t you understand? That’s your sister in there! She’s in critical condition!” A flicker of fear crossed his face, but he quickly suppressed it, his expression hardening. “I can’t believe how low you’ll sink, Evelyn. You’d even curse my own sister just to get me to take you to the hospital?” “Her due date is a month away! She has a full-time nurse at home. You couldn’t even come up with a believable lie.” I was on the verge of a breakdown. “That was your mother on the phone! If you don’t believe me, call her back right now and ask her yourself!” He sneered and pulled out his own phone. A sliver of hope rose in me. If he just called his mom, he would know. But then, he glanced at me, and with a look of grim determination, he turned his own phone off, too. He locked both of them in the glove compartment. “I know how proud Mom is that you’re a doctor at City General. She’d lie for you in a heartbeat to protect your precious career.” “But not this time, Evelyn. I’m not taking you to the hospital until I know Mimi is safe.” 4 He was a madman. A hot knot of fury tightened in my chest. I wanted to crack his skull open and see if there was anything inside but water. He saw my expression in the rearview mirror and tried to soften his tone. “Look, honey, don’t worry so much. It’s a big hospital with plenty of doctors. They can manage without you for a little while. Your colleagues might flatter you, but you can’t really believe the whole department would fall apart without you, can you?” His mind was made up. Nothing I said would change it. And with every passing minute we drove further from the hospital, the danger to Sarah and her baby grew. The doors were locked. I couldn’t jump out. There was nothing in the car I could use to break a window. My eyes scanned the interior, and my decision was made. I had to grab the steering wheel. I had to force him to stop. At the next red light, I lunged across the seat and yanked the wheel. Chad, caught by surprise, fought back. In the struggle, his foot slipped, slamming down on the accelerator instead of the brake. The car shot forward, tires screaming as it skidded across the intersection. Chad’s face went white with terror. “Evelyn, let go! Are you trying to get us killed?” “Either you pull over right now and let me out,” I snarled, “or we both die here!” “You’re a psycho!” he screamed back. Seeing the absolute resolve in my eyes, he finally broke. “Okay! Okay! Just let go! I’ll pull over!” I released my grip, my hands trembling, slick with cold sweat. The car began to slow, veering toward the shoulder. I hadn’t even had time to breathe a sigh of relief when I saw it—a small delivery truck, careening out of control, heading straight for us. There was no time to react. In that split second, Chad yanked the wheel, instinctively shielding his side of the car and leaving me to face the full force of the collision. My world exploded in a white-hot flash of disbelief and pain. Agony ripped through my body. My vision blurred with red. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was Chad, his face a mask of tears, scrambling toward me. 5 I woke up in a hospital bed. A good Samaritan had called an ambulance after the crash. I was the one who had taken the brunt of it. Multiple fractures in my arm and leg, a concussion from where my head hit the dashboard. But I was alive. Chad, who had so instinctively protected himself, had escaped with only minor scrapes. I opened my eyes to find him sitting by my bedside, his face etched with anxiety and regret. When he saw I was awake, his eyes lit up. “Honey, you’re awake! How do you feel? Does anything hurt?” My voice was a raw croak. “What time is it?” His face tensed. “You… you were out for four hours. It’s afternoon now.” A roar filled my ears. I tried to sit up, but a wave of pain forced me back down. “And the… the patient?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Did they… did they make it? The mother and the baby?” Chad looked completely baffled. “I… I don’t know.” “But,” he said, his tone shifting, becoming accusatory, “Susan called me before. She said Mimi didn’t make it. The mother died, and none of the puppies survived.” He shot me a look of pure hatred. “Susan is devastated. She said she’s coming here to have a word with you.” “Evelyn, this is your fault. I’ll try to smooth things over, because you’re my wife, but if Susan demands some kind of compensation, you’d better just accept it. You owe her that much.” He had barely finished his sentence when the door to my room was kicked open. Susan stormed in, her face contorted with rage, and slapped me hard across the face. “This is all your fault, Evelyn!” she shrieked, her eyes wild with hate. “Chad told me everything! If you hadn’t thrown a fit and grabbed the steering wheel, we would have gotten to my house in time! My Mimi wouldn’t be dead!” “You murdered her! I want you to pay with your life!” With the concussion and my injuries, I was helpless. As despair washed over me, I saw Chad, the man who had just promised to help me, quietly get up and close the door, sealing me in with her, letting her scream and hit me as I lay broken in the hospital bed. A cold wave of desolation washed over me. I finally understood the warning my mother had given me on my wedding day. “Marrying the wrong person will destroy you.” 6 My assistant, hearing I was awake, rushed into the room and stopped dead, seeing me being attacked. Enraged, she shoved Susan back. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing, attacking Dr. Hayes in the hospital? I’m calling security!” Chad, who had been watching impassively, finally moved. He stepped in front of Susan, shielding her. “Your Dr. Hayes, through her own negligence, caused this young lady to lose a beloved member of her family,” he said with a sneer. “She made a mistake. A little slap is nothing. Frankly, if Susan wanted her life in return, as her husband, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” My assistant, not knowing the “family member” in question was a dog, just stared in stunned silence. I had no energy for these two lunatics. “The surgery this morning,” I asked my assistant, my voice urgent. “The patient, the baby… are they safe?” Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “Dr. Hayes… we… we lost them.” “We lost them both. Mother and child.” My heart seized. Chad and Susan both froze, a flicker of guilt finally flashing across their faces as they realized the magnitude of their actions. My assistant broke down completely. “Where were you this morning? Your phone was off, and then you were brought into the ER, covered in blood. The family thinks it’s your fault, that you didn’t get here in time. They’re down in the lobby, causing a scene.” She hiccupped through a sob. “They said… they said they’re coming for you. That as soon as you woke up, you had to get out there and face them.” “Dr. Hayes, what are we going to do?” I took a steadying breath, trying to calm her. “Don’t worry. Go back to the office for now. There were… extenuating circumstances. I’ll explain everything to the family.” “Really?” she asked, unconvinced. “They were so angry. They know you’re in this room. They’ll be up here any minute.” After I finally managed to coax her out of the room, I turned to Chad and Susan. “You two caused this. You’re coming with me to explain what happened.” Susan shrank behind Chad. “Why… why should we? This is your mess! It has nothing to do with me! I didn’t stop you from going to the hospital!” Chad’s eyes darted between me and Susan. From the hallway, we could hear the sound of angry, approaching footsteps. He made his choice. He roughly hauled me out of the bed and shoved me into a wheelchair. Ignoring my struggles, he pushed me toward the door. “Susan’s right. This is all your fault. It has nothing to do with us.” “You’re the doctor. You’re the one who should be on her knees, begging for forgiveness!” With that, he yanked open the door. Standing on the other side, their faces a mixture of grief and fury, were the patient’s family. Chad looked up and froze. “Dad? Mom? David? What are you guys doing here?”

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The day my colleague was assaulted in the conference room, I burst in and saved her. I even told her to call the cops. But the next day, she turned on me, accusing me of being the attacker and claiming I’d coerced her into silence. The company fired me on the spot. My wife divorced me. Friends ghosted me, and family looked the other way. Even though I was eventually released due to lack of evidence, I was already a social pariah, a monster in the eyes of the world. A month later, I saw her in the park, wrapped in the arms of her real attacker. When I ran over to confront them, he shoved me into the lake. As the water filled my lungs and my world went black— I snapped my eyes open. I was back in my office, on the day it all began. 1. “What are you doing? No… let go of me!” “Mmph… Help… somebody, help me…!” I pushed open the door to my office and followed the sound. Through the glass walls of the conference room, I could see two entangled silhouettes. I leaned against the doorframe, frozen. The screech of a toppling chair, the scrape of a desk across the floor, all punctuated by muffled sobs and desperate pleas. It was all so familiar. And so cruelly ironic. In my past life, I was working late when I saw my colleague, Rachel, being assaulted by our manager, Rick Hughes. I kicked the door open, laid Hughes out with a single punch, and got Rachel out of there. Hughes, calmly straightening his tie, had sneered at me. “You dare ruin my fun? You’ll pay for this, Jeff.” I had picked up Rachel’s jacket from the floor, draped it over her trembling shoulders, and tried to comfort her, insisting she report it to the police. When I got home that night, I told my wife, Emily, what happened. She said she was proud of me. But the next morning, Rachel showed up at my desk with two police officers. She pointed a shaking finger at me, her voice choked with tears. “It was him! He tried to rape me in the conference room after work yesterday! I barely managed to fight him off… He threatened me, told me if I said a word, I’d lose my job and he’d go after my family!” I just stood there, stunned, as the cold steel of handcuffs snapped around my wrists. “That’s a lie!” I roared. “Rachel, I saved you! Why are you framing me?” But no one believed me. My coworkers stared, whispering. I was hauled away to the precinct. Good news travels slow, but bad news spreads like wildfire. The “rapist” label burned through the entire office building, then through my circle of friends and family. My wife’s family, especially. The rumors spiraled out of control, each telling more monstrous than the last. Emily came from money; she’d never known hardship. But because of me, she was drowning in a humiliation she couldn’t bear. The pressure finally broke her. She asked for a divorce. The company fired me. In the divorce, I walked away with nothing. I had lost everything. A few days later, the police let me go. Lack of evidence. But my life was already in ruins. I was holding the divorce papers, wandering aimlessly, when I found myself by the lake in the park. I was about to end it all. That’s when I saw them. Rachel and Rick Hughes—kissing passionately under a willow tree. I stormed over and grabbed her arm. “How could you do this to me? I saved you!” She pulled me aside, her voice a low hiss. “I’m just a low-level assistant, Jeff. What was I supposed to do?” “He’s the Chairman’s brother-in-law! What good would calling the cops do? He’d be out in a day, and I’d be out of a job, with my family in his crosshairs!” “So you destroyed my life instead?” I yelled, my voice cracking. “I lost my job! I lost my home! I’m branded a rapist because of you!” She just scoffed. “You’re a college grad. You can find another job anywhere. I’m not like you. I don’t have a degree. If I lose this job, I starve.” “It’s your own fault you couldn’t hold on to your job or your wife, so don’t blame me. Even without this, she would’ve left your broke ass eventually!” Looking at her selfish, twisted face, I snapped. I raised my hand and slapped her, hard. “You little piece of trash! You dare touch my woman?” Hughes charged at me and shoved me, hard, off the small bridge. I plunged into the icy water of the man-made lake and drowned. 2. Now, the cries for help were still coming from the conference room. A slow smile spread across my face. I quietly closed the door to my office and walked away. On my way home, I stopped by the grocery store. I was going to cook dinner for Emily tonight. I didn’t blame her for leaving me in my past life. She was the daughter of a wealthy family, raised with every comfort, yet she chose me—a poor kid from the sticks with nothing to his name. From our first tiny rental apartment after graduation to the small home we owned now, she had always been by my side. When I walked in, she was at her computer, finishing up some work. Watching her focused profile, I made a silent vow: You suffered so much because of me. It will never happen again. The next day, I went to work as usual. Rachel stormed right up to me, her hand flying. She slapped me across the face, her voice a shrill accusation. “Why didn’t you help me yesterday?!” I didn’t hesitate. I slapped her back. Twice. Hard. The force of it stunned her. She stood there, clutching her cheek. “You… you hit me?!” “Everyone saw it,” I said coolly. “You hit me first. I was just defending myself.” She wouldn’t let it go. “You heard me! Why didn’t you come in?!” I raised my voice, making sure others could hear. “I have no idea what you’re babbling about. Get away from me, you psycho.” Then, to my nearby colleagues, “Watch out for this one. She attacks people for no reason.” She lunged, grabbing my bag with one hand and clawing at my face with the other. I shoved her away and delivered two more sharp slaps. She was about to come at me again when our department head, Mr. Evans, rushed over, drawn by the commotion. Rachel immediately burst into tears, spinning her tale, trying to pin it all on me. It made my blood boil. Mr. Evans’ brow furrowed. “So, you’re saying Jeff saw you being assaulted after work yesterday, did nothing, and just left. And that’s why you attacked him this morning?” Rachel nodded, tears streaming down her face like a stage actress. “You’re unbelievable!” I cut in. “I didn’t see a thing, so stop trying to drag me into your mess! And let’s say I did see something. Am I legally obligated to play the hero? What law says I have to save you? That’s nothing but moral blackmail.” The memory of my last life flashed before my eyes—the humiliation, the pain, all because of this baseless accusation. Seeing her stammer, unable to respond, I pressed on. “The person who attacked you is the criminal. You should be calling the police to catch him, not standing here blaming me.” Humiliated and furious, Rachel shrieked, “We’re colleagues! If you had just helped me, none of this would have happened!” “Don’t you yell at me! As for last night, I—know—nothing!” Losing all control, she grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from a nearby desk and hurled it at my head. “Enough!” Mr. Evans roared. “If you two can’t sort this out, we’ll do it at the precinct. I’m calling the police. It’s the end of the year, you should be focused on hitting your targets, not this drama!” He pulled out his phone. Rachel lunged and grabbed his arm, her voice trembling, her face pale. “No, you can’t call the police… If you do, my life is really over.” 3. Silence fell over the office. You could have heard a pin drop. I broke it. “If you don’t want to involve the police, then stop wasting my time,” I said coldly. “I have work to do.” Mr. Evans glanced at me, then back at her. “Well? What’s your decision? Standing here isn’t solving anything.” Rachel wrung her hands, pacing anxiously and muttering to herself. The whole office had witnessed the scene; the story was already spreading. For a woman, an incident like this, twisted by gossip, could be utterly destructive. It wouldn’t just ruin her career at the company; the rumors would reach her friends, her family. “Fine. Let’s call the police,” she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. After the official statements were taken, the police told me I was free to go. But Rachel erupted. “He definitely saw what happened! He just watched! He was helping the man who attacked me! He’s an accomplice! You can’t let him go, you have to arrest him!” The investigating officer looked at her as if she were insane. “Mr. Thompson’s departure time from the office is close to the time of the alleged assault, but right now there’s no evidence to suggest…” “Are you letting him off just because his manager spoke up for him?” Rachel cut him off, her voice growing wild. “He was in on it! He was the lookout for the guy who raped me! He should be charged, too! How can you let a man like that walk free? Arrest him!” The officer waited for her to run out of breath before speaking in a stern, measured tone. “Ma’am, this is a police station. We operate on fairness and evidence. Your tantrums are useless here. Based on the current testimony, Mr. Thompson is not a suspect. You cannot fabricate facts and slander another person.” Rachel wasn’t done. “His office light went off right when I was being attacked! How can that be a coincidence?” I answered calmly. “I finished my work, so I went home. Is that not normal? It’s a huge office building. I’m in sales. Am I supposed to conduct a full sweep of every floor before I clock out?” Mr. Evans, sitting beside me, started to speak up, but I put a hand on his arm, a silent signal to stay out of it. I didn’t want Rachel to latch onto another target. “You did it on purpose!” she shrieked, pounding the table. “You’re in league with my attacker! Why else would you leave me there to be assaulted?” The officer’s patience had clearly worn thin. “That’s enough!” he boomed. “Based on our current investigation, Mr. Thompson is free to go.” “Ms. Vance,” he said, turning to Rachel, “what you need to do now is focus on providing a clear description of your assailant. Drop everything else.” 4. Rachel physically blocked my path, wailing like a madwoman. “Are you doing this because I’m an easy target? Do you know how hard it is for a woman on her own? Just because I don’t have powerful connections, you all walk all over me! Is that it? The poor always get screwed! He watched me get attacked and did nothing! Isn’t that a crime?” “This whole thing is his fault! He deserves to be punished for leaving me to suffer! He seems so nice on the surface, but he’s a monster, an animal!” “You’ve ruined my life… and I will never forgive you! I’ll make you pay! You won’t get away with this!” I just threw my hands up in exasperation, looking at the officer. “I wasn’t the only person working late that night. Why are you so fixated on me? Is it because you think I’m an easy target?” I asked her directly. “We live in a society of laws. Everything requires proof.” The officer’s voice was like stone. “Ms. Vance, if you continue like this, you will be charged with obstructing an investigation. Now sit down and cooperate. Provide useful evidence. Otherwise, we will be forced to take further action, and you will have to bear the consequences.” That finally did it. Rachel slumped back into her chair. “I’ll cooperate. I will.” With the officer’s nod, I walked out of the police station. The next morning, Rachel was back at the office. And she brought the police with her. She pointed at me and screamed, “That’s him! Jeff Thompson! He’s the one who raped me the other night!” I froze at my desk, the words hitting me like a physical blow. A whole night of drama wasn’t enough for her. She was recycling the exact same tactic from my past life. Coworkers immediately gathered, some already raising their phones to record. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure lurking in the background… Rick Hughes, the real attacker. Today’s Rachel was a different person. The nervous, ashamed woman from yesterday was gone. In her place was someone standing tall, righteous, almost proud. “Officers, that’s him! He raped me in the office the other night! Please, you have to bring this criminal to justice!” People from other companies on our floor started to gather, drawn by the commotion. The crowd grew larger. “What a scumbag. Does something like that and still has the nerve to show up for work.” “I don’t know, she doesn’t exactly look like an angel either. There’s no smoke without fire.” “Exactly. Look at how she dresses, always looking for attention.” “It doesn’t matter. What he did is a crime. He deserves to be locked up!” A colleague who was friendly with me spoke up. “That’s not Jeff! He would never do something like that! Rachel was trying to frame him yesterday, too!” “Yeah, Jeff’s a top performer with a bright future. He’s happily married.” I stood up, addressed the officers, and bowed slightly to the crowd. “Officers,” I said, my voice steady and calm. “I have a statement to make.”

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1 The day Paul Moore went bankrupt, he threw me his last savings on a black card. “You don’t have to stay,” he said. I tore my Harvard acceptance in half. “We sink or swim together.” The heiress who once spent fortunes on meals learned to clip coupons and argue over ten cents. When he fought his way back, he promised me a wedding of the century. I was nervous but happy. Then I saw him through a half-open door, sliding my diamond ring onto a starlet’s finger. “Won’t Ava be upset you’re giving everything to Mia?” Paul smiled. “She gave up Harvard for me when we were poor. She can handle anything.” He chuckled coldly. “If she had the guts to leave over this, I’d respect her more.” My blood turned to ice. A bitter laugh escaped me. Fine. If he wants me to leave—I’ll leave. … “What is the meaning of this?” A black card hit Paul Moore square in the face. Mia Brooks frowned, her delicate brows knitting together. “Paul, I told you, I’m not some canary you keep in a golden cage!” The moment the card struck his cheek, the air in the room grew thick with tension. But Paul just smiled, letting it fall to the floor. He looked at the pouting girl before him, his thumb gently caressing the diamond ring on her finger. “My fault, darling. I shouldn’t have treated you like a girl who can be bought.” Mia snatched her hand back, crossing her arms and turning away. “I told you from the start, I’m with you because I like you. Your money has nothing to do with it! If you can’t understand that, then we’re through!” “Mia, come on.” Paul reached for her, but she slapped his hand away. The indomitable Paul Moore, a titan of industry, was reduced to a helpless, smiling fool by a starlet’s temper tantrum. He shot a look at his friends, his eyes overflowing with a sickeningly sweet adoration. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” “Get lost!” He pulled her into his arms. “Alright, alright, it’s my fault. How about I make it up to you? The Zenith Award for Best Actress this weekend. It’s yours. How does that sound?” Mia’s expression softened. My own fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms. Someone in the room spoke up. “Mr. Moore, wasn’t that award promised to Ava?” “Mia’s just as deserving,” he said, pulling her onto his lap. “She works hard, she’s a talented actress. The nominations haven’t been announced yet, so we’ll just make a little change.” Before his assistant could even move, I kicked the door wide open. Paul immediately pushed Mia off his lap. “Ava?” I ignored the sharp, familiar pain in my lower back and stared daggers at him. “Who are you giving that award to?” Paul’s gaze fell. To get the perfect shot for my last film, I’d refused a stunt double for a high-fall scene. The landing had been brutal, leaving me with eighteen steel pins in my spine. I was back on set the same day, pushing through the agony to keep us on schedule. He was there. He saw it all. He knew I’d collapsed in tears of pain the moment the cameras stopped rolling, my body slick with a cold sweat as I leaned against him. But now, he avoided my gaze. “Mia’s a newcomer. It hasn’t been easy for her to get this far. You’re a veteran, Ava. Let her have it.” “Never!” I pointed a trembling finger at Mia. “If she were better than me, fine! But while I was memorizing my lines until dawn, she was mumbling ‘1-2-3-4-5-6-7’ to the camera! While I was doing my own stunts, she was using eight different body doubles for a single scene! You’re going to give an award that a real actor might work eight years to earn to this… this mannequin?” “Ava!” Paul’s voice was a whip crack. His eyes, usually so warm when they looked at me, were now filled with an icy unfamiliarity. “Know your place!” The words hung in the air. Even he seemed surprised by them. I stared at him, incredulous. “My place? Do you mean my place as a veteran actress, or my place as your girlfriend of ten years?” “Ava, I…” He seemed to realize his mistake. The things we say without thinking are often the most revealing. They’re the truth. “Look, Ava, you don’t have to treat me like your enemy.” Mia lifted her chin, her expression a mask of arrogant nonchalance. “I’m not interested in petty female rivalries. I just happen to like Paul, and I’m not afraid to go after what I want.” She dangled the black card in front of my face. “He tried to give this to me. I refused. I’ve always been the type to earn what I want. So relax. Unlike you, I have no interest in his money. When I like someone, it has nothing to do with their bank account.” She tossed the card at me, and it fluttered to my feet. Then she turned to leave, but at a subtle nod from Paul, one of his men blocked her path. “Now, why would you leave?” Paul rose, sweeping Mia into his arms. “Change the nomination,” he ordered his assistant. “Take Ava’s name off the list and replace it with Mia’s.” “Paul!” “And,” he cut me off, his voice softening as he looked down at Mia, his eyes filled with that same doting look, “my spending money on you is my business. It has nothing to do with you. You’ll never be just a kept woman to me.” Mia squirmed playfully in his arms before finally relenting. As he carried her out, she glanced back at me over his shoulder, a flicker of triumphant satisfaction in her eyes. I sat in my car, parked in the garage, and slammed my fist against the steering wheel. I never cared about winning the Zenith Award. I only got into acting in the first place to help make ends meet for Paul and me. I, who had never bowed to anyone, had to smile and grovel for a bit part. But slowly, I fell in love with the craft. Even after Paul rebuilt his empire and offered me a hundred million dollars to quit, to stop putting myself through hell, I couldn’t. He understood then that acting had become a part of me. From that day on, he supported me, never holding me back. When I stumbled back into our apartment, my mind a numb fog, I found it wasn’t empty. “This one, and this one. Take them all.” Mia was directing a moving crew, pointing at my crystal ornaments and gold statuettes. “Put that down! Who let you in here?” My sudden shout made her jump, a hand flying to her chest. Her fear quickly morphed into annoyance. “What are you yelling for? Paul registered my fingerprint for the door. I can come and go as I please. Hey! That one, too! Take it all to the new house Paul got for me!” She was pointing at a small gold ring on my vanity. It was less than five grams. Paul had bought it for me when we were at our poorest, after living on instant noodles for three months straight. He had sworn to me then that he would give me the world. Even now, with necklaces worth eight figures, that little ring was my most treasured possession. I slammed my hand down on the mover’s, stopping him. My smile was pure acid. “I thought you didn’t care about a man’s money, Ms. Brooks? Are you really so desperate that you won’t even leave behind a trinket worth less than three hundred dollars?” Mia’s face darkened. “It’s not about the money. It’s about the principle. Wherever the money flows, love follows. You have to fight for what you want in this life, don’t you, Ava?” “I’ve never heard someone make being a gold digger sound so noble,” I sneered. “No need to be jealous,” she purred, leaning closer. “In the end, it all comes down to who Paul chooses. As for all this… I’ll gladly take it off your hands.” She then pointed to the top shelf of my closet. “That trophy looks nice. Pack it up with the rest.” I turned, and my breath hitched. It was my mother’s. “Don’t touch that!” I shoved the mover aside, grabbing the trophy and clutching it to my chest. The force of it sent Mia stumbling back. “Ava! Are you insane?” she shrieked. “It’s just a stupid trophy! It’s not like it was ever going to be yours anyway, you hack! I’m taking what’s Paul’s, what does it have to do with you? Get it from her!” “You dare!” I raised my hand, ready to strike. Mia’s face went pale, and she cowered, her arms over her head. “Ah!” “Ava!” A hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice. I turned to see Paul towering over me, his eyes blazing with disapproval. With a single, effortless motion, he flung me back against the wardrobe. “Paul!” Mia cried, throwing herself into his arms, her shoulders trembling delicately. It only made him hold her tighter. “Ava, it’s just a trophy. Why are you making a scene?” I looked up at him, my heart shattering. “What did you just say?” Only then did his eyes focus on the object in my arms. My mother’s last honor. Her last gift to me. In the days when we could barely afford food, I had sold every piece of my own jewelry, but I never once considered selling this. A complex emotion flickered across Paul’s face, and he looked away. “Mia is your junior. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There’s no need to be so dramatic.” “Wouldn’t hurt me?” I laughed, a broken, hysterical sound. “You call coming into our home and stripping it of everything I own not hurting me?” Mia paled. Paul finally seemed to notice that nearly every valuable thing that belonged to me was now packed in the moving van outside. “Paul,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “this is the woman who wants to take the five-gram ring you gave me. And you still believe she doesn’t care about your money?” “Paul!” Mia suddenly cried out. “If you believe a word she says, I’ll leave right now. I’ll walk away from everything you’ve ever given me and never look back!” And with that, she spun around, making a show of leaving. Paul grabbed her arm, stopping her. She turned back, her voice thick with righteous indignation. “The only reason I wanted that ring is because I knew you gave it to her! I’m not some magnanimous saint. When I see something you gave to another woman, I get jealous! I don’t care if it’s a worthless piece of paper, I want it gone! But if you’re going to listen to her, if you think I’m just some money-grubbing parasite, then there’s nothing more to say!” I burst out laughing. “She wants to be the whore and the virgin queen all at once.” “I think that’s you!” Paul suddenly roared, turning on me. I froze. Mia, seeing her victory, stopped struggling. Paul pulled her back into his arms, his voice softening as he spoke to her. “Just ignore her,” he murmured, before turning his cold gaze back to me. I stared at him, my heart a leaden weight in my chest. “Paul, in your eyes, am I really that calculating?” He hesitated. But then a cold sneer twisted his lips. “Ava, be honest with yourself. When you tore up that Harvard letter, wasn’t it because you were betting I’d make a comeback, bigger and better than before? Wasn’t it just an investment?” I stared at him, the world tilting on its axis. He held Mia tighter. “Mia might have met me after I was successful, but she refuses every penny I offer her. I have to force gifts on her. Her integrity is real. Yours was just an act.” My voice trembled. “Paul… you think… you think I was pretending?” He sighed. “You know the truth in your heart. I’m doing you the courtesy of not spelling it out. So do me a favor and stop with the hysterics.” “I hope you rot in hell, Paul Moore!” I shrieked, and in a blind rage, I shoved the coffee table over. His first instinct was to shield Mia with his own body from the flying debris. “You’re a psycho, Ava!” Mia screamed, her face contorted with fury. “He’s right, isn’t he? You’re just a gold digger, and you can’t stand being called out!” If Paul wasn’t holding her back, she would have lunged at me. He left with her and the movers, leaving me alone in the wreckage. I collapsed onto the floor, surrounded by shattered glass and broken memories, gasping for breath as tears streamed down my face. He didn’t know. He had no idea. If I hadn’t stayed by his side, the empire I would have built for myself would have dwarfed his. As I began to pick up the pieces, I clutched my mother’s trophy. Fine. Once my new film is cast, we’ll divide the assets and go our separate ways. Just as I finished cleaning up the mess, my assistant called, her voice frantic. “Ava, it’s bad! They just recast the role we fought so hard for. They gave it to Mia Brooks!” The phone nearly slipped from my grasp. I stormed into Paul’s office and slammed the casting documents down on his desk. “You gave my mother’s role to that… that bitch?” He took the verbal assault without flinching, the cigar between his fingers not even trembling. “Mia is an actress with a lot of potential. You don’t need to worry.” “Paul.” I grabbed him by the collar. “My mother was a hero of science. She was finalizing her data on her deathbed! You’re going to let someone who can’t even be bothered to memorize her lines portray her? Is Mia worthy of that?” “How will we know if she’s worthy if she’s never given the chance?” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “She was my mother. No one knows her better than I do. Paul, if you let her play this part, I will use every resource at my disposal to destroy her career. I’m willing to walk away from acting forever. I mean it.” He looked at me then, a flicker of shock in his eyes. He might be the revered Mr. Moore now, but he knew that if I was willing to burn everything to the ground, I could take him down with me. He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray and sighed. “You’d really go that far?” “Absolutely,” I bit out, my teeth clenched. He nodded slowly and dialed a number. “Cancel the casting change for Ms. Brooks. Yes, the role of Dr. Rhodes will be played by her daughter.” The tension in my shoulders finally eased. “Thank you, Mr. Moore,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I walked out without a second glance. The next day, I was scheduled for a costume fitting. But instead of a call from the studio, I woke up to my face plastered all over the internet. Private photos. Explicit photos. 365 of them. One for every day of the year. I fell out of bed. Staring at the angles of the pictures, I knew. My hands shaking, I called Paul. Mia answered. “I was the one who told Paul to release them,” she chirped, her voice oozing with fake sympathy. “What was it you said? You’d ruin my career to protect this role? Well, look at you now. Who’s ruined? I have to say, sister… you’re absolutely filthy.” My teeth ground together. “Mia!” The phone was snatched away. Paul’s voice, cold and detached, came through the line. “You can still play the part of your mother, Ava. If you can live with the fact that every time the audience sees her face, the first thing they’ll think of is you, on your back, spreading your legs.” The phone slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor. I knelt there, staring at my name trending everywhere, and I began to sob, great, gut-wrenching wails that tore through my empty apartment. My phone buzzed. An incoming call. A warm, elderly voice spoke. “Ava, darling? I heard your mother’s film is starting production? When’s the premiere? Your uncles and I are flying back to see your big debut.” My hand trembled violently. “Uncle… they… they put my private photos on the internet… I can’t do the movie anymore…” “They what?!” The calm voice erupted in fury. After I forwarded him the entertainment news links, his voice returned, shaking with rage. “So… so that’s how it is… Does he think all her old comrades are dead? He lets some little canary bully her daughter like this? Ava, don’t you worry. Every single one of your mother’s colleagues is on a plane back to the country right now. We’re coming to back you up.”

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1 The day I married Addison Green, the false heiress—the woman who had lived my life for twenty years—took her own. Two years later, that single act had turned us into bitter enemies. He hated me, the real daughter whose return had driven Stella Grant to her death. I hated him for holding a torch for the woman who had stolen my identity. For a decade, we hurled the cruelest words at each other, wishing the other a miserable end. Until the earthquake. He threw himself over me without a second thought, his back taking the full force of the collapsing building, creating a pocket of survival just for me. The support beam fell, crushing bone and tearing flesh. As his life bled out, he whispered in my ear, “If I had known she would die, I would have never brought you home.” “And in the next life… I’ll be the only family you ever need.” In the end, I died in the aftershock anyway. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he was supposed to introduce me to my birth parents. But this time, he stopped me. “Cindy,” he said, his voice strained. “I made a mistake. The daughter the Grant family lost twenty years ago… it wasn’t you.” … Addison blocked my path at the gates of the Grant family’s villa, his face a war of conflict and grim resolve. I said nothing, but the image of crumbling steel and concrete flashed before my eyes. His mangled back, and the words he’d breathed against my ear. “If I had known she would die, I would have never brought you home.” So, this was his choice. If he had a second chance, he would choose to abandon me from the very beginning. Fine. The last ten years of our marriage had been a living hell. He hated me, I resented him. We tortured each other day and night, finding release only in death. The chance to sever that future at its root felt… like a relief. I looked at him and gave a calm, simple nod. “Okay.” A flicker of shock crossed Addison’s face. The entire speech he’d prepared seemed to die on his lips. “What did you say?” he asked, the question almost reflexive. “I said, I understand,” I repeated. “If it was a mistake, then that’s that. Thanks for the ride, but I should get back to campus.” I turned to leave. His hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my arm like a steel band. “Cindy!” he growled, a raw edge of panic in his voice. “What is this attitude? You’ve always wanted to find your family. I tell you it’s not them, and you just give up? Just like that?” I looked back at him, a flicker of amusement touching my lips. It was almost funny. He was lying through his teeth, all so I would just walk away. Now that I was doing exactly what he wanted, he was angry. “What else am I supposed to do?” I countered. “Addison, are you telling me you lied? That I actually am the Grants’ daughter?” The panic in his eyes intensified, his grip tightening unconsciously. He looked down, hiding his expression from me. “This is over. Don’t ever bring it up again, and don’t go near the Grant family.” “I understand.” I pulled my arm free and rubbed the red marks his fingers had left on my wrist. “I won’t bring it up, and I won’t go near them. Are you satisfied now, Addison?” He stared at my empty hand, a fleeting look of bewilderment on his face, as if he’d just lost something precious. He didn’t know that I had been reborn, too. This time, I wouldn’t walk through those gates. I wouldn’t become the Grants’ daughter. And I would never, ever become his wife. He wanted to protect his childhood sweetheart, to keep their perfect world intact. I would gladly hand it to him. “I’m leaving.” I didn’t look back at him again, just started walking toward the bus stop. His voice, laced with frustration, followed me. “Stop! I’ll drive you back.” Addison didn’t take me back to my dorm. He drove to a luxury high-rise apartment in the city center. I watched the streets blur past the window, a cold sense of recognition settling in my stomach. After we were married in our past life, this was our first home. It had held our happiest moments, and it had witnessed our slow, agonizing descent into a couple consumed by hatred. The car stopped. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to me. In the dim light of the garage, his face was a mask of shadows, but his voice was softer now, the harsh edge from before gone. “Come on. We need to talk.” I followed him into the apartment. The familiar decor, all cool tones and minimalist design, was just like him: elegant and distant. Only this time, I felt none of the familiar flutter in my heart. He tossed me a bottle of water from the fridge and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, lighting a cigarette. The pale smoke swirled around him, a hazy veil between us. “Cindy, I know you’re upset.” His voice was muffled by the smoke. “This whole situation with your family… I didn’t handle it well. But Stella’s health is fragile right now. She… she can’t handle any kind of shock.” Stella again. I lowered my gaze, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a silent sip. The cold water did nothing to quell the bitterness rising in my throat. He’d said the same thing in our last life. He’d told me Stella was delicate, prone to depression, and that I should be considerate of her after I was welcomed into the family. I had listened. I gave up Addison’s affection to her. I swallowed my pride and stayed silent through every one of her tantrums and provocations. And for my troubles, she’d sentenced our marriage to a decade of misery with her suicide. My silence seemed to unnerve him. Thinking I was sulking over my lost family, he sighed and stubbed out his cigarette. He walked over and knelt in front of me, his gaze soft and pleading. “Don’t be angry with me, okay?” His voice was a low murmur, his large hand covering mine as I held the water bottle. “I admit, I messed up today. I got your hopes up for nothing.” “Tell me what you want as compensation. Anything. As long as it’s within my power, it’s yours.” He paused, his tone becoming earnest. “But the Grants… let’s just forget about them for now. Please?” He was humbling himself, his love for me practically spilling from his eyes. I could see it clearly. He was terrified that I would be angry, terrified that I would leave him. But that love was conditional. It required the sacrifice of my identity. I met his gaze, a bitter smile threatening to break through my composure. “There’s nothing I want.” I gently pulled my hand from his. The light in his eyes dimmed. “Don’t worry. Even if the Grant family showed up with their entire fortune and begged me to come back, I wouldn’t give them a second look.” “And you don’t need to apologize. You don’t owe me anything. Let’s just end this between us.” Addison’s brow snapped together. He shot to his feet, his face turning to ice. “End this? Cindy, are you trying to punish me? You’re playing hard to get because I wouldn’t let you join the Grant family?” He leaned over me, trapping me against the sofa, his presence overwhelming. “I told you not to go back to them. I never said I wanted to break up with you! We can be just like we were before. No, I’ll treat you even better than before!” I looked at him and felt a profound weariness wash over me. He thought he could just surgically remove the ‘heiress’ part of my identity, and we could go back to the way we were, blissfully in love. He didn’t understand. The root of the tragedy was never about whether I returned to the Grant family. “Addison,” I pushed him away, standing up to put some distance between us. “I’m tired. I want to go home.” This time, when I walked to the door, he didn’t stop me. In the days that followed, I threw myself into preparing my applications to study abroad. Soon, I had an offer from a university overseas, with a departure date set for next month. The day before I was scheduled to leave, two men in black suits blocked my path as I walked out of the library. “Miss Shaw, Mr. Green would like to see you.” I was forced into a car that sped through the city, finally stopping at the top floor of a skyscraper overlooking the river. “Mr. Green is busy. Please wait here.” A bodyguard escorted me into a glass-walled room, then left, locking the door behind him. The room had a spectacular view, with one entire wall made of glass. Across from it was the city’s most exclusive rooftop restaurant. Right now, the restaurant was alive with light and music. A lavish birthday party was in full swing. The guest of honor was Stella Grant. She stood in the center of the room in a stunning gown, surrounded by admirers. And the man standing beside her, the one gently placing a tiara on her head and gazing at her with undisguised affection, was Addison. I watched as Addison took Stella’s hand for the first dance. They spun and swayed, their bodies close, whispering to each other like a true couple in love. The guests applauded, their faces glowing with approval. A laugh escaped me, a bitter, hollow sound. How could I have been so foolish in my last life? I’d wasted my entire existence on a man who never truly loved me. Was it worth it? I closed my eyes, unable to bear the sight. But then, an image of Addison’s bloodied face from the earthquake, the memory of his trembling back as he shielded me, flooded my mind. He hated me, but he had also saved me. That debt was a net, trapping me, holding me motionless. I don’t know how much time passed, but the party eventually began to wind down. The door behind me clicked open. I turned. Stella stood there, a triumphant smile on her face as she walked toward me. “Cindy,” she said, stopping in front of me, her voice dripping with condescension. “How does it feel? Watching the man you love throw a party like this… for me.” It all clicked into place. The bodyguards weren’t Addison’s. They were hers. She wanted to crush any lingering hope I might have had. But she didn’t need to. In this life, I wanted nothing to do with him. I remained silent, my gaze cold. My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate her. The smile on her face twisted into a snarl. “You think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you? Let me tell you something. You will never have what isn’t yours!” She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “Did you know? If you hadn’t shown up, Addison and I would be engaged by now! You ruined everything!” “Are you finished?” I asked, my voice flat. “If you are, please let me leave.” My indifference made her tremble with rage. She suddenly pulled a small, sharp knife from her clutch, its blade glinting in the light. My heart seized. “What are you doing?” “What am I doing?” Stella laughed, a crazed light in her eyes. “I’m going to show Addison what you’ve driven me to! I’m going to make him see that as long as you exist, I will never know a moment of peace!” Before I could react, she raised the knife and dragged it across her own wrist. She looked at me, a twisted smile on her face, and then she screamed. “Please, just leave me alone! I’ll give you anything, why are you trying to kill me?!” The sound of frantic footsteps echoed from outside. Addison burst in first, pulling Stella into his arms, his face a mask of fury. Stella leaned weakly against him, a picture of fragile innocence, and pointed a trembling finger at me. “Addison, she said she’s the real Grant daughter… She said I don’t deserve any of this… She told me I should just die…” Addison’s head snapped up. His eyes, when they met mine, were blazing with a terrifying rage. “Cindy,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “Didn’t I warn you to behave?” “Today is Stella’s birthday. It was supposed to be her happiest day, and you ruined it!” I stared at him, my heart sinking into a bottomless pit. He had forgotten. Today was my birthday, too. We were born on the same day, in the same month, of the same year. One of us was destined for the heavens, the other for the mud. He summoned the bodyguards, who seized my arms. He threw a military-grade combat knife onto the floor in front of me. His next words were utterly merciless. “For every drop of blood she lost, you’ll pay it back double.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Addison, are you insane?!” I began to struggle violently, but he just gave his men a curt nod. A searing pain shot through my arm as the blade cut deep. Warm blood gushed from the wound. I gasped, tears springing to my eyes. A second cut, then a third… I lost count of the wounds. The pain became a dull, throbbing numbness, and the world began to blur. I looked at Addison’s cold, indifferent face, at the triumphant smirk playing on Stella’s lips as she lay in his arms. My heart, which had endured so much, finally shattered. “A few more should do it…” Addison finally said, stopping the bodyguard. “Take her to the hospital when you’re done.” Without another glance at me, he swept Stella into his arms and walked out. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my consciousness fading. Just before everything went black, I thought I saw the earthquake again. This time, Addison didn’t shield me. He just stood off to the side, his expression blank, and watched as the rubble consumed me. Addison, the life you saved is yours again. We’re even now. When I woke up, the sterile smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils. Addison was sitting by my bed. When he saw my eyes open, his own lit up. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. I stared at him, stunned. “Last night… I was too harsh.” He looked down, his voice thick with remorse. “I was so angry, I lost control. I…” “So?” I cut him off, my voice even. “Are you saying you regret it?” He looked up sharply, his lips parting as if to speak, but the words died in a sigh. “Cindy, don’t talk to me like that.” His voice softened. “I know you hate me, but Stella… she almost died.” “Addison,” I said, meeting his eyes. “You don’t need to apologize. Just consider us even.” “Even?” He frowned, not understanding. “Yes.” I managed a bitter smile. “In our last life, you saved me in the earthquake. In this one, I’ve given you a life back. We don’t owe each other anything anymore.” With a loud crash, the chair he was sitting on toppled over as he shot to his feet. His lips trembled, his pupils dilating in shock. “You… you were reborn, too?”

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Scarlett Crane and I have been mortal enemies since childhood. In kindergarten, she humiliated me by pulling down my pants; I ripped the gold star off her chest. She dumped chalk dust in my backpack; I filled her ballet slippers with sand, spraining her ankle. In high school, she took my toughest classes just to outscore me. “No fun if I can’t crush you,” she smirked. So I pinned her love letter to the bulletin board, getting her a week of detention. After 15 years of rivalry, I grew tired. I fled to a southern university, avoiding her entirely. As I left, she called me a coward: “Drop dead and never come back.” Five years later, at our alma mater’s gala, she mocked my worn jacket: “Just a handyman now? Without me, you’ve let yourself go.” But I wasn’t a handyman—the gala was a fundraiser to save my life. 1 Scarlett’s arrival was a spectacle. The school grounds were swarmed by media, turning the event into a circus, all for her. She’d turned down every interview, all so she could come back here and flaunt her victory over me. “Scarlett, you’ve got it wrong. I’m not working here, I—” She cut me off, her voice brutal. “Ethan, when are you going to finally admit you’re weaker than me? That stubborn pride of yours hasn’t changed a bit!” She was no longer the girl from high school, her features sharpened by success, but the fire in her eyes was the same. She still needed to conquer me, to be better in every conceivable way. I remembered winning the state-level design award in high school. She claimed I only won because one of the judges was a distant relative. I remembered choosing a design program in the south. She said it was because I was terrified of competing with her in the north, too spineless to face a real fight. “Admit it, Ethan,” she taunted, her smile dripping with arrogance. “You just can’t measure up to me.” I stared into the familiar, ferocious competitiveness in her eyes and felt the corner of my mouth twitch into a smirk. Yeah, I was dying. We’d been fighting for fifteen years. How could I not play the final round? I lifted my head, my gaze locking with hers, and pointed to a poster on the bulletin board for an international design competition. “Scarlett, what makes you so sure that just because I’m standing here, I’ve lost?” She blinked, caught off guard by my sudden defiance. Then she scoffed. “You? You think you’re qualified to enter a competition of that caliber?” “On what grounds? Isn’t it obvious?” she continued, spreading her arms wide, a gesture for the whole world to see. “Because I’m a rising star in the design world. And you’re just some manual laborer.” Our old classmates started to gather around us, their whispers like a swarm of bees. “Is that Ethan Hayes? Wow, he really fell off.” “He used to be a legend back in the day. What a shame.” Scarlett’s smirk widened, laced with pity. “Oh, you guys don’t know the half of it. He insisted on going south for design school, swore he’d start his own brand. Five years later, he doesn’t even have a proper job.” In front of everyone, our teachers and our peers, she seemed determined to rip away my last shred of dignity. My knuckles turned white as I clutched the application for severe illness assistance the principal had given me. A bitter taste filled my mouth. 2 “Ethan, my boy, have you finished filling out that grant application?” Principal Thompson spotted me and walked over, his face etched with concern. A hot wave of shame washed over me. I didn’t want anyone to know, especially not her. But before I could hide it, Caleb Moss, the same campus heartthrob from high school, snatched the form from my hand and started reading it aloud. “Ethan Hayes… ALS? A fundraiser?” As the words left his lips, a ripple of derisive laughter spread through the crowd. “ALS? You? You don’t look sick. Can’t even fake an illness properly.” Caleb shot me a look of disgust, as if I were something he’d scraped off his shoe. Scarlett’s pupils contracted. She strode forward, grabbed the diagnostic papers and the application, and scanned them intently. Caleb sneered. “Seriously, Ethan, you’ve really hit rock bottom. Trying to scam the school for donation money?” He jingled some coins in his pocket. “If you’re that desperate, get on your knees and beg. I might toss you a few quarters for old times’ sake.” Hearing that, the tension in Scarlett’s shoulders eased. Her expression hardened into cold contempt. “Ethan,” she said, her voice dripping with disgust, “you’re pathetic.” My heart pounded as I watched her tear the application form to shreds, piece by piece. The money I’d earned from my small design studio over the years was almost gone, drained by medical bills. If I hadn’t run into Principal Thompson at the hospital last month, I would have given up completely. The only reason I could still walk and talk was because of the initial funds raised by the faculty. I’d tried to tell him it was pointless, that this disease was a bottomless pit. I told him not to bother the alumni. But he insisted, saying they had to save me, and that sliver of hope he gave me was now being ripped apart. He said I had been the pride of the school once, and they wouldn’t just let me fade away. I began to shuffle toward the campus lake, my legs already stiffening, each step clumsy and comical. Suddenly, Caleb shoved me hard from behind. I stumbled, my body refusing to catch itself, and pitched forward into the muddy grass. I writhed on the ground, trying to get up, but my body wouldn’t obey. I was just a mess of mud and humiliation. Scarlett’s fingers twitched, but her face remained a mask of indifference. “Don’t think you can scam the school just by putting on a show, Ethan.” “You’re a disgrace,” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “You don’t deserve an ounce of pity.” She then announced to the stunned crowd, “You want money? Fine. My studio, Crane Designs, will donate ten million dollars to our alma mater!” A wave of gasps and applause erupted from the onlookers. Caleb immediately sidled up to her, puffing out his chest, his eyes full of adoration. Scarlett ignored him, her gaze fixed on me. “But this donation,” she declared, her voice ringing with finality, “is specifically for underprivileged students, to upgrade the cafeteria and dorms.” She ground her heel into my jacket, her face a mask of contempt. “You, Ethan, won’t get a single cent.” “No, Scarlett, please, you have to listen,” Principal Thompson pleaded, trying to explain. But she was already walking away, surrounded by a crowd of admirers. 3 “Ethan, my boy, I’ll figure something else out,” Principal Thompson said, his voice choked with urgency. “Your health… maybe you should pull out of the design finals next week…” Everyone knew. Designing a new academic building for our school had been a shared dream for Scarlett and me. Our old building was a wreck, with peeling paint we’d cover with old newspapers and homework assignments. The windows rattled in their frames with every gust of wind. Back then, we’d both sworn that the day we became architects, we would design a new building for our school—one that was beautiful, functional, and built to last. We’d stay up late after study hall, secretly competing, sketching out one naive blueprint after another, dreaming of the day they’d become real. I brushed the dirt from my jacket and forced a weak smile. “I only have a month left. Scarlett did the right thing. Those kids need the money more than a dying man.” “Thank her for me,” I added. Principal Thompson’s lips trembled, and he let out a long, heavy sigh. I dragged my stiffening limbs off the school grounds, the harsh afternoon sun making me dizzy. By the time I reached the bus stop, the world tilted and went black. I hadn’t eaten all day. My blood sugar plummeted, and my legs gave out from under me. I collapsed. “Ahh! That man is dead!” a little girl shrieked. My forehead had smashed against the curb, and blood was now streaming down my face. She was so startled she dropped her can of soda, which fizzed and spilled all over the pavement. I desperately needed sugar. My body shaking, I propped myself up on my hands and began to crawl, licking the sticky, sweet liquid off the dirty concrete. At that moment, only one thought consumed me: I couldn’t die before the finals. “Heh. Ethan, look at the state of you. Licking soda off the ground?” A sleek Maybach had pulled up to the curb. Through the tinted window, I could see Scarlett’s silhouette. “And you thought you could compete with me?” Her voice was smug, but her eyes held a flicker of something complex, something I couldn’t decipher. All I could do was focus on the soda, trying to bring my body back from the brink. “First, you try to scam the school, and now you’re begging on the street? To think I ever considered you my rival.” Scarlett’s face was a mixture of disappointment and rage. She tossed a wad of cash out the window, the bills fluttering down onto the pavement. “Take the money and get lost. Don’t embarrass the school any further!” My hands moved numbly, gathering the bills. With this, I could buy more paper, more time to perfect my design. But my actions only fueled her fury. “Ethan, have you no shame?” she roared. “Do you really want to be a dog?” “If you’re so determined to be a dog, then be my dog!” She started to open her door to grab me, but Caleb stopped her. “Scarlett, maybe Ethan is just going through something. I’ll talk to him,” he said smoothly. “Don’t you need to study Aether’s past works? I heard he’s participating in this competition. You go study the master’s designs. I’ll take care of Ethan.” At the mention of the name Aether, Scarlett’s expression softened into one of pure reverence. “To see Aether’s work in person… I could die happy.” She shot me one last cold glare. “This pathetic waste of space isn’t worth my time.” “You should get on your knees and thank Caleb, Ethan.” As the car pulled away, Caleb’s face twisted into a cruel mask. He crouched down, grabbing my chin, his eyes filled with menace. “If you hadn’t posted Scarlett’s letter on that bulletin board and gotten her in trouble, we would’ve been together years ago.” I laughed, a dry, rasping sound. Scarlett had trailed after him like a lost puppy for an entire year, and he’d never given her a second glance. “Who was it that said a desperate girl’s love isn’t worth a damn?” I taunted. “Who was it that smashed the gifts she gave you in front of the entire school, humiliating her?” “Now that she’s successful, you’re blaming me? You’re disgusting.” “Shut your mouth, you son of a bitch,” he snarled, his anger finally boiling over. He stomped his leather shoe down hard on the back of my hand. A sickening crack echoed in the silence, followed by a wave of blinding pain. He leaned in, his smile chilling. “You like soda so much?” “Don’t worry, old friend. I’ll make sure you get your fill.” A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I tried to fight back, but my muscles were frozen, unresponsive. Caleb had his friends pin me down as they brought over an entire case of soda. “Pour it all down his throat. My treat.” The cold, fizzy liquid flooded my mouth and nose, burning its way down my throat. My stomach felt like it was being shredded by a thousand needles. I choked and coughed violently, spitting up mouthfuls of blood. I tried to stand, to push myself up, but my arms and legs were no longer my own. Again and again, I struggled, only to collapse back onto the pavement. Finally, I couldn’t hold on any longer. The world dissolved into darkness. 4 The doctor’s face was a portrait of sorrow. “Mr. Hayes, your condition has deteriorated rapidly. Today’s… incident has caused significant trauma.” When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. “I’m afraid… you have less than a week.” “If you have any last wishes, now is the time.” He couldn’t bear to look at me any longer. He turned and left in silence. Wishes? An image of the crumbling school building flashed in my mind, followed by the coldness in Scarlett’s eyes as she walked away. My resolve hardened. At the very end of my life, I was going to win. One last time. I painstakingly uncurled my fingers. Tucked in my palm were the few bills she had thrown at me, now stained with my own blood. I didn’t want to die indebted to her, but it was all I had. I asked a nurse to buy me drawing supplies, and I continued to work. The horror of ALS is how it devours you, piece by piece. I could no longer walk, so I drew from a wheelchair. Soon, my right hand went numb. So I used my elbow, my teeth, whatever it took to keep the pencil moving. The day before the finals, as I painstakingly signed the name “Aether” in the corner of the final drawing, a wave of relief washed over me, and I smiled. I looked at my completed design, and I laughed and cried all at once. This was the last piece of me I could leave in this world. I prayed it would continue to provide shelter for the children long after I was gone. Determined to attend the finals the next day, I gritted my teeth and went to handle my discharge paperwork. That’s when I saw her. Scarlett was at the hospital, helping Caleb with a follow-up appointment. “Don’t blame Ethan,” Caleb was saying, putting on a pitiful display. “He was just in a bad mood. He had every right to hit me.” He pointed to his slightly sprained ankle. “He almost crippled me, but Scarlett, please don’t confront him for my sake. We’re all old friends. I don’t want to see you two fight.” Scarlett’s face was a thundercloud. I scoffed. He’d twisted his ankle when he lost his balance stomping on my hand. But I didn’t have the time or the energy to waste on him. I was running out of both. I turned to leave, but her voice, sharp as a whip, cracked through the air. “Ethan! Get over here. Now.” I ignored her and kept moving, but she grabbed my wheelchair, forcing it to a halt. “Ethan, I am so disappointed in you,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “Caleb was trying to help you, and you attacked him? Do you have a conscience? Did your parents raise a monster?” “Apologize to him! Right now! Or I swear I will call the police and have you thrown in jail.” Looking at that familiar yet alien face, I couldn’t help but laugh. The victim, forced to apologize to his abuser? “In your dreams,” I spat, and tried to wheel myself past her. But Caleb snatched the portfolio containing my design from my lap. “Ethan, I don’t blame you for hurting me, but what are you doing at the hospital? Couldn’t scam the school, so now you’re stealing things?” Panic seized me. “Give it back!” I reached for it, and Caleb dramatically fell to the ground. “Ethan, stealing is wrong! You can beat me to death today, but I won’t let you go down the wrong path!” Whispers erupted around us. The hallway filled with pointing fingers and ugly words. “That’s mine! Give it back!” I lunged forward, trying to grab it, but a firm hand shoved me back into my chair. It was Scarlett. She was flipping through my sketches, her expression growing darker with every page. When she finally looked up at me, her eyes were filled with pure disgust. “Ethan, I was so wrong about you.” “Scarlett, listen to me, that’s really—” “Enough!” she roared, flinging the stack of drawings at my chest. “Do you have any idea whose work you’ve stolen? Do you know what Aether means to me?” “He is a god in my eyes, and I will not let you defile his work with your filthy hands,” she seethed, pointing a trembling finger at me. “I was trying to give you a chance, a way to redeem yourself! I convinced Caleb not to press charges for what you did to him! But you’re just… rotten.” “Since you have no shame, I’ll expose you for the fraud you are!” She grabbed my bandaged hand and began to tear viciously at the gauze. “You love to act, don’t you? You love playing the victim to get money! Well, act now! Keep acting!” A white-hot pain shot up my arm, and the world began to fade to black. I slumped to the floor, my body giving out. But in the next instant, Scarlett froze. Beneath the bandages on my hand was a bloody, gaping wound.

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My rival Stella Vaughn was exposed as a fake heiress and vanished after the real daughter returned. Furious she’d escaped our rivalry, I stormed into her welcome ceremony at the Vaughn estate. “Thank you for clearing the house of… distractions,” the new daughter said sweetly. “Now our family is whole.” Just last month, Mrs. Vaughn called Stella a “gift from heaven.” Now her face twisted with disgust. “She was a stray occupying Clara’s place for a decade,” she snapped. “An orphan with nothing,” Mr. Vaughn added. “Marrying her off to a sixty-year-old is more than she deserves.” I stood at the ballroom entrance, fists clenched. Who did they think they were, touching her before I claimed my victory? So what if she was fake? I’m the sole daughter of the Sterling family. Anyone who lays a hand on her will have their house torn down. 1 A giant LED screen in the Vaughn estate’s gardens looped a photo of the picture-perfect family of three. The brighter their smiles, the darker my expression became. In the center of the hall, Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn were proudly introducing their real daughter to the guests. When he saw me striding in, a flicker of annoyance crossed Mr. Vaughn’s face before he plastered on a synthetic smile. “Jane! What a surprise. Perfect timing. I’d like you to meet our real daughter, Clara.” “Clara, darling, say hello to Jane Sterling.” Clara immediately extended a delicate hand, her smile gentle and warm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jane.” I didn’t even glance at her. My gaze, cold as ice, was fixed on her parents. “Where is Stella?” Mr. Vaughn slammed his champagne flute down on the table. “That ungrateful brat tried to stop Clara from coming home! She even pushed her down the stairs. We sent her away the moment we found out!” Mrs. Vaughn chimed in, playing the part of the deeply wronged mother. “Oh, Jane, you have no idea. That girl has a mean streak a mile wide! We were blind to it before, but now that we have our sweet Clara, we finally see what a good child is really like!” My fingers trembled with rage. Before I could speak, Clara’s eyes welled with tears. “Mom, Dad… does Jane not like me? Does she want me to leave so Stella can have her place back?” At her words, the Vaughns’ expressions sharpened. Mr. Vaughn took a step forward, his tone a clear warning. “Jane Sterling, we know you and Stella were close. But Clara is our priority now. You are welcome here if you behave, but if you’re here to cause trouble, I suggest you leave.” Clara shrank into her mother’s arms, her shoulders trembling, the picture of fragile innocence. I let out a cold laugh. “And what if I insist on finding Stella?” Mr. Vaughn’s eyes bugged out, his voice thick with contempt. “Then I’ll tell you this: we listened to Clara and we got rid of her! A low-life like that has no place in the Vaughn family!” A flash of triumph crossed Clara’s face. “Jane, you should just give up. My parents and I are a real family now.” My mind roared. All I could see was Stella’s teasing smirk from years ago. “You can be as jealous as you want, Jane, but my parents adore me. You’ll never win!” A wave of pure fury consumed me. I grabbed the heavy crystal fruit bowl from the center of the table and slammed it down over Clara’s head. She shrieked, a mess of tears and fruit salad. “Dad! Mom! Help me!” Mr. Vaughn raised his hand to strike me, but what was a pampered, overweight man against someone who’d been trained in combat since childhood? I caught his wrist, twisted, and sent him sprawling to the polished floor. He grimaced in pain. “Jane Sterling!” he roared from the ground. “Your family is nothing but new money trash! How dare you come into my home and assault my daughter? I’ll ruin you!” Mrs. Vaughn, her face pale, fumbled for the security phone on the table and yelled into the receiver, “Butler! Get all the guards to the ballroom! Now! We have an intruder!” I crossed my arms, a smirk playing on my lips. I’d never told Stella about my family’s true status, and the Vaughns still thought we were just nouveau riche. They had no idea who they were dealing with. Seeing my arrogance, Mrs. Vaughn glared. “I thought you were here to celebrate with us, but you came to fight that little witch’s battles! Fine! When the guards get here, I’ll have them personally escort you to the police station!” As the estate security guards advanced, I let out another cold laugh and addressed their leader. “Surround them.” The head of security paused, confused. I gave him a subtle hand signal, and understanding dawned on his face. “Yes, Miss Sterling!” Mr. Vaughn’s face changed. I smiled sweetly. “Turns out acquiring this security firm last month was a good investment, wasn’t it?” 2 At my command, the guards shut off the saccharine family video on the big screen and politely escorted the bewildered guests out of the ballroom. Soon, it was just me and the three Vaughns in the cavernous, silent hall. With her perfect party ruined, Clara was sobbing uncontrollably. Mrs. Vaughn turned on her husband, her voice a venomous hiss. “This is all your fault! You never cared who Stella was friends with, and look what happened! She brought this monster into our lives and ruined our Clara’s special day!” A vein throbbed in Mr. Vaughn’s temple. “Don’t you dare mention that little snake! After everything we did for her, all the love we gave her, she repays us like this! A thankless wolf we raised in our own home!” As they hurled accusations at each other, all I could think about was Stella. When the Vaughn business was on the verge of collapse, it was Stella who dragged me with her, begging every spoiled heir in our circle for a lifeline. She’d had wine thrown in her face, been cursed at, but she never gave up. She single-handedly secured the investment that pulled her family back from the brink of bankruptcy. Another time, Mr. Vaughn crashed his car while speeding and lay in a coma in the ICU for three days. Stella stayed by his bedside the entire time, never closing her eyes. They were swollen and red when he finally woke up. He’d clutched her hand and wept, saying he must have done something truly great in a past life to deserve a daughter like her. And now? Clara had been home for a few months, and all of that was forgotten. Just because Stella wasn’t their blood, did that mean she didn’t even deserve to be loved? I pointed a finger at them. “Tell me,” I demanded, “who did you give her to?” Mr. Vaughn opened his mouth to answer, but another voice cut him off. “Jane! That’s enough!” I looked up to see my distant cousin, Leo Sterling, striding into the room. My parents had maintained a low profile, even with extended family, so Leo had no idea of our true wealth either. He shot me a furious glare before rushing to Clara’s side, his voice soft and protective. “Clara, don’t be afraid. I’m here now. I’ll protect you.” At the sight of him, Clara’s tears flowed faster. The Vaughns looked at him like he was their savior. “Leo! Thank goodness you’re here! You’re so much more sensible than your cousin. Look at the mess she’s made!” Leo puffed out his chest, positioning himself in front of the Vaughns like a shield. “Jane, tell your men to stand down.” I stood up and stretched my arms. I walked over to him and slapped him hard across the face. “Is that any way to speak to your older cousin? Leo, you were only officially brought into the family fold three years ago. Don’t start thinking you run the place.” He clutched his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You hit me?” I hit him again, harder this time. “Yeah, I did. Now get out of my way.” He instinctively shuffled aside, exposing Clara behind him. I fixed him with a ferocious glare. “Do you have any idea that the person you’re protecting got Stella thrown out of her home and married off to a sixty-year-old monster? Stella is in her twenties, Leo!” Leo’s gaze flickered, but he held his ground. “Jane, Clara isn’t like that. Besides, everyone knows Stella is a spoiled brat. On Clara’s first day home, Stella poured hot soup on her head and then denied it! A woman like that should be grateful anyone would marry her. Why are you defending her?” 3 I pointed back at the Vaughns, my voice rising. “Stella can be fierce, yes, but she’s honorable! She would never stoop to backstabbing! When you were sick, who ran out in the middle of the night to get your medicine? When you wanted something, who moved heaven and earth to get it for you? Have you forgotten all of that?” A flicker of shame crossed their faces, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “No matter what she did in the past,” Mr. Vaughn said calmly, “it doesn’t change the fact that she was jealous and hurt our Clara. As parents, we cannot stand by and watch our own flesh and blood suffer!” I was shaking with rage. “Guards!” I yelled. “Pin them to the floor!” I walked over and began to slap them, one by one, across their faces. “You venomous witch!” Mrs. Vaughn shrieked. “You’re just like that little bastard Stella! Don’t think we’re afraid of you! You’re just nouveau riche trash, and the Vaughns will not forget this!” After ten minutes, my hand was numb, and they still hadn’t told me where Stella was. I needed another plan. I let out a cold laugh and dialed a number. A few minutes later, the roar of a helicopter echoed from outside. An elderly man with a head of white hair stepped out. The bruised and swollen Vaughns saw him and froze in terror. “Patriarch! What… what are you doing here?” I waved for the guards to release them. They scrambled over and clung to the old man’s legs, wailing. “You have to help us, sir! This nouveau riche brat, Jane Sterling, she ruined Clara’s party and she attacked us!” Leo shot me a smug look. “It’s true, sir. I can testify. My cousin has been completely unreasonable today.” But the Patriarch’s face was a mask of thunder. He slammed his cane on the ground. “You’re the ones being unreasonable! Jane Sterling is the sole heir to one of the world’s most powerful families! She’s the one who called me here!” The words hit them like a bolt of lightning. The Vaughns and Leo were frozen in place. I sighed, my voice hoarse. “Patriarch Vaughn, since you’re here, perhaps you can help me ask them. Where in the world is Stella?” The Patriarch’s face darkened. “Yes. Where is Stella? She was always a good, filial child. She was my favorite.” Clara peeked out from behind her parents. She’d never met the Patriarch, but she could guess his authority. Her voice was tearful. “Grandpa, Stella was bullying me, so Mom and Dad sent her away.” The old man exploded. “Nonsense! Stella would never bully anyone! And who are you to speak to me so casually?!” Clara’s eyes reddened as she fought back a sob. Mr. Vaughn rushed to explain. “Sir, Clara is our real daughter. Stella was the fake. We… we sent her…” He trailed off, suddenly unable to speak. The Patriarch’s chest heaved with fury as he slammed his cane down again. “Say it! What did you do to her?” Mr. Vaughn hesitated, but his wife grabbed his arm. “Don’t say it! Stella deserves what she gets. If you tell them, she’ll just come back and ruin Clara’s life! The Patriarch is angry now, but he won’t really do anything to us!” I had reached my limit. My eyes narrowed. “Patriarch Vaughn may not be able to hurt you, but I can.” “I’ll count to three. If you don’t tell me, I have no problem bankrupting this entire branch of the Vaughn family right here, right now.” “Three! Two! One…” The Patriarch turned his back, washing his hands of the matter. Before I could finish the countdown, Mr. Vaughn broke. He dropped to his knees, his eyes wide with terror. “Stop! I’ll talk!” “Stella… she… I sent her to Mr. Blackwood! She left three days ago. By now… by now the damage is probably already done!” That perverted, sixty-something monster, Alistair Blackwood? The news hit me like a physical blow. All the color drained from my face.

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1 The car with my wife’s illegitimate son exploded. My firefighter wife Isabelle was on scene—but only to teach her lover Richard how to fight the fire. As the child screamed inside the burning wreck, Richard whined: “This extinguisher is too big and scary! I need a baby one!” Isabelle smiled fondly, ignored the inferno, and sent someone to buy a child-sized extinguisher. Its weak spray only angered the flames, singeing Richard’s hair. He cried and demanded to go home. To comfort him, Isabelle ordered everyone to stop fighting the fire. “He tried his best!” she crooned, stroking his hair. “Naughty fire, I’ll punish it for you later.” As she led him away, she whispered coldly to me: “I came to confirm that bastard son of yours is dead. Did you really think I didn’t know you swapped Leo into our family to inherit the Vance fortune? His death saves me the trouble.” “Clean up. Have a plaque made for Richard. And you, keep those ashes as a reminder.” I froze, then smiled coldly. She thought the burning child was mine. Too bad, it was actually her bastard son with Richard. … Watching the two of them walk away, practically intertwined, I let out a bitter laugh. “And what should the plaque say? ‘For Outstanding Moral Depravity’?” At my words, Richard lifted his head from Isabelle’s shoulder, his eyes red-rimmed. His voice trembled, thick with a wounded, nasal tone. “Adrian… how could you say that about Isabelle and me? We tried so hard to save him, but… but it was like Leo didn’t want to be saved.” The sheer absurdity of the statement made me frown. He flinched as if I’d struck him and hid behind Isabelle, tugging at the hem of her uniform. “I think… I think I heard him crying ‘just leave me alone.’ That’s why Isabelle and I… we were too scared to get any closer.” The words were a poison dart, sinking deep into Isabelle’s heart. Her already sour expression turned venomous. “Did you hear that?” she snapped. “Richard said it himself. The little bastard wanted to die!” “Richard got hurt trying to save that thing! What right do you have to judge us?” I looked at the back of Richard’s head, nestled in the crook of her neck. The sliver of exposed skin was perfectly clean, without a speck of soot you’d expect from fighting a fire. I had no doubt they’d arrived hoping that both Leo and I would perish in the flames. After all, it was my primary car that had been targeted. Unfortunately for them, I already knew what was coming. The child who was supposed to be in that car with me was nowhere near here. A mocking smile touched my lips. “Isabelle, you halted a rescue operation to comfort this ‘hero’ because of some nonsense he claims he heard?” Isabelle’s brow furrowed. She pulled Richard closer, her voice sharp with impatience. “Stop your pathetic games, Adrian. Richard was trying to help. You, on the other hand, your son is dead and all you can think about is stirring up trouble.” “Clean this up, and get that plaque made. Don’t make me tell you twice.” “Tell me?” My gaze swept over them, cold and sharp. The air crackled with the pressure of a man long accustomed to command, and a palpable chill ran down the spines of everyone present. “Isabelle, have you forgotten who gave you the name ‘Mrs. Vance’?” “Have you forgotten who pulled strings to secure your position as Fire Captain? You think you’re in any position to tell me anything?” The color drained from her face as if I’d hit a nerve. Her voice rose to a shriek. “Don’t you push me, Adrian! This was an arranged marriage between our families! You can’t hold that over my head!” She gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with a hatred I usually reserved for my worst enemies. “Besides, don’t think for a second I don’t know what you’ve done. Leo is not my son! He’s just some bastard you brought home after one of your affairs!” As they walked away, my nails dug into my palms. I’d been holding onto some shred of decency, some lingering memory of our marriage. But her words—bastard, affair—had obliterated my last ounce of compassion. My assistant’s usually calm voice was tinged with anger. “Mr. Vance, should I stop her? We need to know what the Thorne family is planning.” I turned slowly, my eyes scanning the wreckage. “Where is Leo?” He glanced at the retreating pair and lowered his voice. “The boy’s security detail reports he is safe, sir. To be certain, I’ve already had him taken to the main estate. He should be there by now.” I nodded and got into my car. “Secure all surveillance footage from the scene. Every word Isabelle said, especially the order to halt the rescue. And I want to know why she was so convinced Leo wasn’t her son. Start with Richard. I want a complete, unbroken chain of evidence.” He nodded respectfully. Sensing my exhaustion, he quietly told the driver to go. I was rubbing my temples when a thought struck me, and my eyes snapped open. “And send a plaque to the hospital. A big one. Make sure it’s addressed specifically to Dr. Richard Croft.” I saw the barely concealed frustration on my assistant’s face. I murmured a few more words, and his expression instantly brightened. “Sir, I will see to it with the utmost diligence.” Just then, his phone rang. His face changed as he listened. “Mr. Vance, there’s a problem with the Apex contract. They’re trying to pull out.” “Turn around. We’re going to the office.” I took one last look at the smoldering carcass of the car, and the last flicker of warmth in my eyes died. I gave you a chance, Isabelle. It was two hours later when the crisis was finally averted. I took my phone, and it immediately lit up with a flood of missed calls, vibrating violently in my hand. I glanced at the name, dismissed my team with a wave, and answered. A furious roar erupted from the other end. “Adrian, are you insane?! Why did you send that plaque to the hospital? Do you want Richard to become a laughingstock?” I leaned back in my chair, my voice deceptively calm. “A laughingstock? You’re the one who wanted a plaque made for him. I was simply following your orders. Or is Dr. Croft’s ‘heroic’ firefighting something to be ashamed of?” “You—!” She was speechless, sputtering with rage. “I’m warning you, Adrian, take that plaque down and get those pictures offline! Or I’ll make your life a living hell!” “Whether my life is hell or not is not for you to decide,” I said with a cold, undisguised laugh. “Isabelle, you should be more concerned with how you’re going to explain to your colleagues, and the entire internet, why you abandoned a rescue to coddle your little pet.” “Oh, and by the way,” I added, “I have the surveillance footage. All of it.” The breathing on the other end became ragged, followed by the sharp click of her hanging up. I tossed the phone onto my desk, a smirk on my face. That was Isabelle. All threats, no substance. A few moments later, there was a knock on my office door. My assistant, Marcus, entered, his face grim. “Sir. We found it.” I looked up, my suspicions solidifying into fact. “First,” he began, “Mrs. Vance believes Leo isn’t her son because Richard gave her a forged paternity test.” He handed me a file with photos of the document. “We’ve confirmed it’s a fake. The real test was done three years ago. Leo is, without a doubt, your biological son.” My fingers rested on the image of the fake report, the cold seeping into my skin. Three years ago, right after Leo was born, Isabelle had been called away for a classified mission. I had begged her to stay, to recover, but she was pathologically ambitious. I had no choice but to let her go. I hired the best childcare specialists and stepped back from the company to raise our son, sending her photos and videos every day so she wouldn’t worry. When she returned, she was… different. Colder. So that’s when Richard had made his move. “Furthermore,” Marcus continued, “the illegitimate child… was never hers to begin with.” I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Not that she’d cheat—I knew everything about her before our families arranged the marriage, including her childhood sweetheart. She had been smart enough to send Richard abroad and play the part of a devoted wife. I just hadn’t expected them to rekindle things so quickly. Their son was born only six months after Leo. I remember the disgust I felt when I found out. That was the day our marriage truly died. That was the day my plan began. No one crosses me and walks away unscathed. But now, I almost had to laugh. Isabelle was so desperate to install her lover’s son as the heir, she never even bothered to confirm if the child was actually hers. “Finally, today’s explosion.” Marcus’s voice dropped. “We have footage of one of Richard’s distant cousins loitering near the vehicle just before the incident. We’ve also traced the explosive materials back to a source connected to Richard.” “Our preliminary conclusion is that Richard orchestrated the entire event. The goal was to eliminate you and your son in what would look like an accident, allowing him to move in with his own child. Even if one of you survived, he knew Mrs. Vance’s suspicion and animosity would do the rest. The Thorne family has been waiting for an opportunity like this for years.” The office was silent except for the hum of the air conditioner. “I see,” I said finally, my voice like ice. “He played his hand well.” I tapped my fingers on the desk, gazing out at the city skyline. From the sixty-eighth floor, Vance Tower stood as a monument to a century of power. But this city was a jungle of old money and ambition. No single family could reach the summit without being pulled down by the others. But the time had come for a shift in the balance. This was a game of chess I had been setting up for ten years. I looked at Marcus. We both knew what came next. “It’s time. The Thorne family enterprises, Richard’s backers at the hospital… leave nothing standing. He dared to touch my son. He dared to try and destroy my family. He will not walk away from this.” “Yes, sir,” Marcus said, his voice firm. “I’ll make the arrangements immediately.” It was late when I finally left the office. The moment I reached my gated community, I knew something was wrong. The regular security guards were gone, replaced by strangers who demanded I get out of the car for an identity check. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. When one of them reached for my door handle, I ordered my driver to ram the gate. Ignoring the shouts and curses behind us, I strode toward my house. A pungent, acrid smell of smoke hit me before I even reached the door. Inside, it was a scene of desecration. Blue wallpaper, silk curtains, Leo’s Transformers—all of it was piled in trash bags. In their place were black funeral banners, white chrysanthemums, and a portrait. Everything that belonged to me and my son had been erased. In the center of the living room, Isabelle sat on the sofa, smoking a cigarette. Richard was curled up against her, fiddling with a new, child-sized fire extinguisher. He waggled it at me when I entered. “Oh, Adrian, you’re back! Isabelle and I thought the decor was a bit dated, so we gave it a little refresh. What do you think? Much more suitable, isn’t it?” My eyes drifted to a pile of smoldering ashes in the corner. I could just make out the melted plastic of Leo’s toy cars, the charred remains of our photos, and the scorched wood of a family heirloom. I turned to her, a storm gathering in my eyes. “Isabelle,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet, “did you burn my things?” “I did,” she said, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “And we held a lovely little funeral for your son, too. Do you like it?” The beautiful, airy room had been turned into a mausoleum. A photo of Leo had been blown up and crudely edited into a funeral portrait. Richard giggled, snuggling closer to her. “Tsk, tsk, Adrian. So careless. Couldn’t even save your own son from a little fire. Now there’s not even a body to bury.” “Don’t worry,” Isabelle added, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “We’ve set up a memorial for him. And now, my darling Richard and our son will inherit the Vance fortune.” I looked at his smug, triumphant face and let out a cold laugh. He was so pleased with himself, and he still had no idea whose son had actually died in that car. I strode forward and smashed the funeral portrait on the floor. “You’ve done a wonderful job with this memorial, Richard. Who knows, maybe your own son will get to use it one day.” Isabelle stubbed out her cigarette, looking down her nose at me. “Don’t be ungrateful, Adrian. Richard went to all this trouble for you. Besides, he’s been getting death threats online because of you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll apologize to him and stay out of my way. Be a good little house husband, and maybe, in time, I’ll consider giving you another child. We are still married, after all.” “Married?” The word was so absurd I had to savor it. There was no humor in my eyes. “Isabelle, I was going to give you a shred of dignity, for old times’ sake. But I see now that would be a waste.” I took out my phone and dialed my assistant. “Change the divorce agreement. All assets revert to me. Isabelle Thorne leaves with nothing. Bring it here. Now.” Isabelle’s face contorted. “Adrian! You wouldn’t dare! This was an arranged marriage! If you divorce me, you’ll be the laughingstock of the Vance family!” “An arranged marriage?” I arched an eyebrow, looking down at her from my full height. “Have you forgotten, Isabelle? Three years ago, when the Thorne family was on the brink of collapse, who bailed you out with a billion-dollar investment? That was my family. An arrangement implies a partnership between equals. Do you really think the Thorne family is our equal anymore?” Her face flushed, but before she could retort, I signed the papers and slid them across the table. Along with them, I tossed down the paternity test results for Richard’s son. A little divorce present. “Sign it, Isabelle. Or in a few minutes, you won’t even have the option of leaving with the clothes on your back.” “Oh, and one more thing. Your crown is crooked.” “What are you talking about?” she whispered, her hand trembling over the pen. Just then, her phone rang. The caller ID read ‘Mom.’ She snatched it up like a lifeline. “Mom! Adrian is trying to divorce me! He’s trying to cut me off without a penny! You have to talk to him!” There was a moment of silence, then a choked, hysterical sob from the other end. “Isabelle! Forget the divorce! The Thorne family is ruined! And the child in that car… it was Richard’s son, Felix! The police just called me to identify the body!”

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I was the stand-in boyfriend for a billionaire’s daughter. My brother was the arm candy for an A-list starlet. Our plan was simple: get the cash and get out. But before we could secure the money, we both got dumped. We had no choice but to pack our bags and vanish into the night. Two years later, the starlet found my brother. I was watching the drama unfold from the sidelines when a hand smacked me on the back of the head. “You run, fine,” she said. “But you take my dog with you?” 01 The moment Celeste Zhao walked through the door of the apartment, my brother, Liam, was shoving an iPad in my face, frantically trying to pick out a birthday gift for her. The buzz of the downstairs lock echoed up the stairwell, and Liam tossed the tablet aside. “Hide. Now. She hates it when anyone else is here.” I quickly contorted my six-foot frame into a question mark and crammed myself under the bed. A second later, Liam, who had been all business, transformed. He spread his arms like a lovesick puppy, ready to embrace the returning queen. “You’re back!” Celeste, however, was in no mood. She shoved him away, her face a mask of impatience. “This has your fingerprints all over it, doesn’t it? Leaking that story about Julian being born out of wedlock!” she snapped. “His gallery just opened. This kind of scandal could ruin him! If you have a problem, take it out on me! Why would you go after him?” A flush of red crept into Liam’s eyes. “You think I did that?” Celeste threw her purse down in a rage. “It happened right after you went to his gallery and saw him. He said you were the only person he told!” Liam opened his mouth to protest, but Celeste’s assistant rushed in. “We can’t get ahold of Mr. Ashworth.” Celeste, who had just picked up a glass of water, slammed it back down on the table. She shot Liam a look of pure ice and turned to leave. “Celeste, it wasn’t me, I swear,” Liam pleaded, his voice cracking. She scoffed. “You threw a fit last week just because I supported his gallery. If it wasn’t you, who was it?” Liam sniffled, a single tear falling and darkening the leather of his shoe. “Can you go tomorrow? Today is your…” “Shut up. Just stop,” she cut him off, her voice dripping with disgust. “I can’t believe you’re this kind of person.” Without another glance, she slammed the door behind her. “Did you ever… feel anything for me at all?” Liam yelled, wrenching the door open and shouting at her retreating back. The click-clack of her heels paused for a few seconds. There was no reply, only the sound of a car engine roaring to life and speeding away. Liam retrieved the iPad, rubbed his nose, and collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Well,” he sighed, “at least I don’t have to spend money on her birthday this year.” I poked my head out from under the bed and gave him a thumbs-up. “That was some Oscar-worthy stuff, bro. For a second there, I almost believed you were actually in love with her.” He kicked at me playfully. “Julian is your girl’s childhood sweetheart.” “Hey, I didn’t hurt him!” I protested. “And you think I did?” “What are you saying?” My voice trembled slightly. “We need to get some money together and run,” Liam said, his eyes now hard and serious. “Why?” “Last week at the gallery, Julian told me he was going to ‘choose’ between our two lovely patrons. I called him a shameless bastard, and now this shitstorm lands on my head.” He sat up, his voice low and urgent. “He’s Celeste’s great unrequited love, and he’s your Chloe’s childhood friend. You know what Chloe is like. If she thinks you’ve wronged her precious Julian, you won’t live to see next week.” That was all I needed to hear. I scrambled out from under the bed and started pulling on my shoes. “Okay, okay, say no more. Let’s figure out how much cash we can pull out. We need to go. Now.” 02 Liam and I are twins. He studied acting in college; I majored in economics. He was the trophy boyfriend for Celeste Zhao, the reigning queen of the box office. She spotted him at an audition during his senior year and basically whisked him away. I was the stand-in for Chloe Vance, the billionaire heiress. She cornered me in a parking garage after a job interview and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. We grew up in an orphanage. This insane luck, this life of unimaginable wealth, all came down to one thing: we both looked like a guy named Julian Ashworth. For three years, money was never an issue. Celeste, being a celebrity, was obsessed with her public image. Everything had to be perfect. Chloe was different. As the sole heir to her father’s fortune, she was a volatile, beautiful storm. Anyone who crossed her learned to regret it. Deeply. We thought this life could go on forever. But things had changed. Julian, the man who had once proudly refused any financial support from Celeste, was back. Life abroad had beaten him down, and he was done struggling. He had returned to choose between the A-list starlet and the billionaire’s daughter, securing a life of comfort for himself. “He told me at the gallery,” Liam said, his voice tight, “that all he had to do was snap his fingers, and Celeste would give him every resource she had. And that she’d tell me to get lost. Looks like he was right. I don’t care if I get kicked out, but Chloe… Chloe isn’t so forgiving. What if she decides to just… toss us both in the river?” I shuddered, remembering the last time Chloe got angry. Some guy had called me a gold digger. She’d found him, tied a bungee cord to his ankles, and had her men make him “jump” off a bridge all night. The next day, he was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, muttering nonsense. And I was just a stand-in for Julian. If Julian decided to come after me next… what chance did I have? He was her real childhood friend. Go. We had to go. Immediately. The plan was set. We would each go home, grab our cards, and run. 03 I had just about finished packing my duffel bag when the front door opened. A figure slammed into my arms from behind, a whisper tickling my ear. “Going somewhere so late, darling?” The scent of gin hung in the air around her. She was drunk. Even after four years together, and as much as I hated her drinking, I never dared to get angry with her. “I was just about to come find you.” She seemed to be in a good mood, her eyes crinkling as she burrowed into my chest and kicked the door shut. “What do you want me to wear tonight?” My heart hammered against my ribs. “You look beautiful in anything.” Chloe’s mother died when she was young, and her father was a notorious philanderer who brought a revolving door of women home. She grew up believing all men were the same. But once, after running away, she’d met a little boy who wiped away her tears. She said he was the first person to ever do that for her. That boy, I was sure, was Julian. Tonight, she was unusually forward. The moment I sat down, she was on my lap, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she tore open the front of her dress… Liam and I were different. He and Celeste had a connection of the mind, something artistic. My connection with Chloe was… more physical. Afterward, a familiar sadness settled over me. As she lay with her head on my arm, her hair soft against my skin, I stroked it gently. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Do you love me?” She stiffened. In the dark, I saw her luminous eyes stare at the ceiling for a moment before fluttering shut. The only reply was the steady rhythm of her breathing. You can’t wake someone who’s pretending to be asleep. But tonight, I needed an answer. “What am I to you?” I rolled over, trapping her beneath me, my lips finding hers. One hand tangled in her hair, the other fumbled with the silk of the nightgown she’d just put on. “Leo, you’re crossing a line.” Her voice was cold, sharp. She shoved me away and got out of bed, slipping into her slippers. “You should get some rest. I’m going to sleep upstairs.” The woman who had been whispering in my ear moments ago was now a complete stranger. “Does this relationship always have to be a secret? I don’t want to hide like this anymore,” I said, my voice raw. “Oh?” She glanced at me, her expression one of utter indifference. “Then leave. Break up with me.” I stared at her, speechless. “Hmph. I’m not exactly short on men,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she walked out and headed upstairs. 04 What was I to her? A poor kid from an orphanage who happened to resemble her childhood friend. A man kept in the shadows, a secret she could never bring into the light. I knew my place. I didn’t even have a ticket to the world of high-society marriage. And yet, tonight, I had to ask. I wiped the moisture from the corner of my eye and let out a long breath. In a way, it was a relief. Buddy, Chloe’s little mutt she’d found on the street, hopped onto the bed. He was my dog, really; I’d raised him from a pup. He looked at me with his big, dumb, droopy eyes as if he understood my pain. I had to take him with me. Cradling Buddy in one arm and grabbing my bag with the other, I tiptoed down the stairs and out the door. Once outside, I sent Liam a text: I’m out. His reply was immediate: Airport in thirty. Can’t fly. I’ve got the dog. Shit. Then it’s the bus! Bus station, thirty minutes! Liam took one look at me with my bag and Buddy in my arms and gritted his teeth in frustration. I, on the other hand, was baffled by the sight of him with three enormous suitcases, looking like he was fleeing a natural disaster. “What on earth did you bring, man?” “She dumped me. Said she wanted every trace of me gone from her world. So I packed every trace of me.” I stared at him. “Did you really have to bring a broom?” “I bought the broom.” I was silent for a moment. “Fair enough. I got dumped, too. Chloe said she’s not short on men.” Liam patted my shoulder with a look of profound understanding. Then, with faces full of misery, we heaved his luggage into the storage compartment of the bus. The two of us and one dog crammed ourselves into a pair of seats on the stinking coach, and just like that, we slipped out of the city like thieves in the night. 05 Celeste Zhao spent the day fielding one call after another from brands canceling her contracts. The story of Julian’s illegitimate status had blown up, and public opinion was vicious. His gallery had been trashed. She had no choice but to bring him to her place, where, of course, the paparazzi were waiting. The photos were all over the internet by morning. Then, Liam had thrown his “tantrum” and run away. And every photographer she’d tracked down had confessed: Liam was the one who paid them to leak the story. “Celeste,” her assistant whispered, “Liam took everything that was his. Should we…?” “Let him go. Ignore him,” she snapped. Julian, a bandage on his forehead from the attack on his gallery, spoke in a low, wounded voice. “Celeste, thank you for helping me. But you should go find him. I would feel terrible if I came between you two.” His eyes were dark and hollow, his voice heavy with sorrow. It only made Celeste more certain that what Liam had done was unforgivable. “Do you know who did it?” she asked. “When we met, I was trying to comfort him,” Julian said, his gaze distant. “I told him not to be insecure. I said that he was just poor, whereas I was an illegitimate child whose father didn’t love him and whose mother didn’t want him. That he was better off than me. I suppose… someone with ill intentions must have overheard.” Celeste’s heart clenched. What “someone”? The paparazzi she’d found had been clear: Liam paid them. She had held onto a sliver of doubt, but after hearing Julian’s account, that hope was extinguished. Julian watched her, his expression unreadable. He stood up. “Celeste, you should go look for him.” He took a few steps and then swayed, pretending to lose his balance. Celeste rushed to his side. “Forget him. He can go wherever he wants. Are you okay?” At that exact moment, the tell-tale red dot of a camera’s infrared sensor swept across the window. Years in the entertainment industry had made her hyper-aware of flashes and sensors. “Who’s there!” Feigning instability, Julian collapsed against her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I’ll handle it. You just focus on getting better,” Celeste said, her voice softening as she patted his back. Within minutes, a new wave of headlines hit the web. A-List Starlet Celeste Zhao in Late-Night Embrace with Illegitimate Ashworth Heir A One-Night Stand, or a Love Affair Revealed? … The articles flooded Liam’s phone. He sighed, his hand trembling slightly in the darkness of the bus. He pulled out the SIM card, snapped it in two, and tossed the pieces out the window. My phone was already clear. To make sure I wouldn’t be tempted to look back, I did the same, ejecting my SIM and flinging it into the night. “Your dog chewed the handle off the window,” Liam said, his jaw tight as he struggled to close it. “Now it’s stuck open.” Wind and dust swirled into the bus, coating our faces with a grime that might have been tears or might have been dew from the cold night air. And so we journeyed on, taking turns holding the dog and watching our old lives disappear behind us. When we finally got off the bus, we discovered our bank cards had been frozen. And so, to save what little cash we had left, we hitched rides on different rickety flatbeds until we reached the remote mountain town of Pine Creek. When we finally stumbled off the last truck, Liam’s hair was a bird’s nest, my face was streaked with dirt, and we both looked like we’d been dumpster diving for a living.

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The night I won Best Actress, haters leaked a video of me, six years ago, heavily pregnant. The room erupted. Reporters swarmed, their questions a barrage of noise. “Cora! Who is the child’s father?” I glanced over at Alistair Brain, his face a mask of pure shock. For the first time, the man of unshakable composure had lost it. I smiled at the reporters. “I don’t have a child.” The day Alistair left me for his childhood sweetheart, he sealed our fate. There would never be anything between us again. 1 “If you run into Charlotte Vance, pretend you don’t see her. Do not, under any circumstances, start another fight.” My agent’s words were a frantic hiss as I stepped out of the car and onto the red carpet. And why? Because Charlotte’s backer was Alistair Brain. The Brain family owned half of Hollywood. There was an old, crude saying in the industry: Want to be a star? Sleep with a Brain. And while it was crass, it was true. Every woman who’d ever been linked to Alistair had seen her career skyrocket. I was the one exception. I was the only woman to have publicly dated Alistair Brain and ended up nearly blacklisted. My crime? I had offended his precious childhood sweetheart. For the next six years, no matter how hard I worked, no matter how much critics praised my performances, I never won a single award. Year after year of being the runner-up had worn away all my sharp edges. I learned to keep my distance. I avoided any event where Charlotte might be present. If she expressed interest in a script, I would graciously decline, citing scheduling conflicts. Perhaps my silent surrender had finally paid off. Or perhaps, with her and Alistair’s wedding on the horizon, she no longer saw me as a threat. Whatever the reason, this year, they had deigned to let an award slip through their fingers and into my hands. When my agent got the news, she nearly burst into tears. “Cora,” she’d said, her voice thick with emotion, “the hard times are finally over.” Alistair was finally willing to let me go. Even though our breakup hadn’t been my fault, I stood no chance against him. I had surrendered long ago. 2 My agent had just finished warning me about Charlotte when, as if on cue, Charlotte herself sashayed over and invited me to walk the red carpet with her. The Brain heir’s new flame and his old one, standing side-by-side. The photo op alone was a gossip columnist’s dream. I knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted to humiliate me, and not just by flaunting her status as Alistair’s current girlfriend. We were both wearing gowns from the same designer. Hers, of course, was from the latest collection. Mine was last season’s. I could already picture the headlines, the sneering comments from her fans and my haters, mocking me for being a has-been. But it didn’t matter. I had no intention of competing with her over a dress, and I certainly had no illusions about Alistair coming back to me. If she wanted to be the star, I would be the quiet backdrop. But my compliance didn’t seem to satisfy her. She leaned in, her voice a low hiss. “Cora, did you know Alistair is coming tonight?” I didn’t. Alistair and I hadn’t spoken a word since the day we broke up. We had severed all ties completely. Still, the sound of his name made my heart skip a beat. Charlotte noticed, and a smug, mocking smile spread across her face. “Don’t get any ideas. He’s here for me, not you.” “I know.” While the Brains had their hands in everything, Alistair himself never attended industry events. Not even for me, not even when we were at our happiest. “We’re getting married soon,” she added, a final twist of the knife. I nodded and turned to her, forcing a sincere smile. “I wish you both happiness.” My meekness must have bored her, or maybe she was just anxious to find Alistair. The moment we were off the carpet, she vanished. I posed for the cameras and answered a few questions. The reporters were surprisingly tactful; no one mentioned Alistair. Our relationship had been a whirlwind romance, but the ending had been a spectacular, public crash. Alistair, the man himself, had found out he’d been dumped the same way the rest of the world did: by seeing it trending online. I was in an interview, and the reporters were fishing for details about our relationship. But all I gave them were five, quiet words. “We’ve broken up.” No warning. No explanation. 3 Alistair called me once after that. There was no explanation, no apology, not even a question of why. Just a cold confirmation. “Are you sure about this?” I murmured a soft, “Yes.” He was silent for a beat, and then he hung up. I had expected him to be furious. He’d spent his life being catered to, never once defied. And here I was, dumping him, and he wasn’t even the first to know. The hashtag #AlistairBrainGotDumped stayed at the top of the trending list for three days straight. He never had it taken down. My agency, terrified of offending the Brains, tried to have it removed, but it would reappear less than a minute later. It wasn’t about his humiliation. It was a warning to me. And sure enough, from that day on, my career became an uphill battle. Six years passed. Six years for his anger to cool. Six years, until he and Charlotte were about to be married. The memories flickered through my mind, leaving me dazed. The host called my name twice before I snapped back to the present. The applause was thunderous. Everyone was happy for me. Through the crowd, I glanced at the front row. Charlotte was there, an empty seat beside her. There was no nameplate, but everyone knew. That was Alistair’s seat. He hadn’t arrived yet. Good. That would save us both a lot of awkwardness. But as I stepped onto the stage and looked up to begin my acceptance speech, my breath caught in my throat. There he was. Sitting perfectly composed in his seat. It had been years. He carried himself with an even colder, more formidable air now. When our eyes met, his were completely devoid of emotion. He looked at me as if I were a stranger. I steadied myself and began my speech. 4 I was halfway through when a commotion started in the audience. It was more than just whispers. People were trying to be quiet, but the story was too shocking, their voices rising in pitch despite their best efforts. My haters had just leaked a video. A video of me, six years ago, heavily pregnant. It was from right after Alistair and I had broken up. I’d tried to lose myself in work, but just before filming was set to begin, I discovered I was pregnant. I dropped out of the film and disappeared from the public eye for an entire year. The footage was from a security camera in my old apartment building. I don’t remember where I was going that day, but I wasn’t wearing a mask. My face was perfectly clear. As I walked off stage, clutching my award, my agent and assistant rushed forward, trying to form a protective barrier around me. But it was too late. The reporters were on us like a pack of wolves. Cameras and microphones were shoved in my face, a cacophony of voices all asking the same question. “Ms. Evans, who is the child’s father?” I was trapped, unable to move. Across the room, Alistair sat untouched. No one dared to approach him. If we were still together, perhaps they would have shown me a little more courtesy. I saw the shock on Alistair’s face, the way his fingers, which had been resting casually on the armrest, were now clenched into a white-knuckled fist. He knew who the father was. And so, for the first time in public, the man of unshakable composure had lost it. I didn’t answer their question directly. Instead, I just smiled and denied it all. “I don’t have a child.” 5 I’ve never seen a Best Actress flee an awards show like a refugee. My gown was trampled and torn. I lost an earring in the chaos. A horde of reporters chased after me, turning my moment of triumph into a desperate escape. My agent and assistant were pale with shock. It wasn’t until we were safely in the car that they finally spoke. “What the hell was that? You have a kid? Alistair’s? Where is the child now?” There were too many questions. I managed a weak, bitter smile, not knowing where to begin. My current team wasn’t with me back then. Everything they knew about me and Alistair, they’d learned from gossip sites and rumors. When I vanished for that year, everyone assumed I’d been blacklisted. When I finally returned to the industry, the narrative shifted. They said I’d been so heartbroken that I’d needed a year to travel and heal. No one in the industry knew what really happened during that lost year. Not even my agent. Until tonight, when they, along with the rest of the world, saw that video and came to the only logical conclusion: I had gone away to have a baby.

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Working late, past midnight, I was waiting for a file to export and decided to kill time by scrolling through TikTok. The video on my screen showed a girl clutching a bouquet of flowers at an airport arrivals gate. When she saw the person she was waiting for, she launched herself into his arms. He laughed, catching her in a tight embrace. The caption read: “My rock is back.” I froze. The man in the video had just wished me goodnight an hour ago. I dialed Jack’s number, my voice eerily calm. “Where are you?” The sound of loud music and laughter crackled through the phone. “Out with the riding crew,” he said breezily. “You’re so far away, Winnie. It gets lonely out here, they’re the only ones I’ve got to talk to.” Before I could answer, another voice cut in, “Yo, Jack, your shot! Stop slacking.” 1. In the back of the cab on the way home, I couldn’t resist opening the video again. There was no mistaking it. The shirt Jack was wearing—I’d picked it out myself. I scrolled to the comments. Someone had asked the girl if he was her boyfriend. She’d replied openly: *[Just my best riding buddy!] * Her profile was filled with photos from their motorcycle trips. Jack had loved riding since college. After he was transferred to the Chicago branch, he didn’t know a soul. He told me he’d found a few people on a local forum to ride with. He’d never hidden any of it from me. But he never told me one of his “buddies” was a girl like this. The next morning, I grabbed the suitcase I’d already packed and headed for the airport. After landing in Chicago, I went straight to the Sterling Corporation tower. The receptionist greeted me warmly, taking my luggage. “Ms. Thorne! We heard HQ was sending a new Director of Operations. I had no idea it was you.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Mr. Heston is upstairs. I’ll take you up.” I smiled back at her, but as I stepped into the elevator, my breath hitched in my chest. Since Jack’s transfer, we had been long-distance for two years. Two years of working our asses off, climbing the ladder in our respective cities. And now, finally, I was here. I could stand in his city, under the same sky. The elevator stopped smoothly on the nineteenth floor. The doors slid open, and a pair of eyes immediately locked onto me. The receptionist gestured to a beautiful young woman in a chic tweed suit. “This is Mr. Heston’s new assistant, Chloe.” Then she turned back to me. “And this is—” I cut her off. “I’m the new Director of Operations from headquarters, Winnie Thorne.” The woman opposite me hesitated for a fraction of a second before addressing me. “Ms. Thorne.” My heart, which had been fluttering with anticipation, plummeted into a black abyss. I knew that face, that voice. I’d spent the entire night staring at her profile. “Winnie? What are you doing here?” Jack’s voice came from behind me. I turned. His eyes held surprise, but not a trace of joy. 2 Jack stared for a moment before rushing over. There was no joyful embrace, no warmth of a long-awaited reunion. Instead, his eyes flickered instinctively to Chloe, who stood watching us. I offered a cool smile. “Let’s stick to titles at work, Mr. Heston.” He flinched. “So the person HQ was sending… it really was you.” He took my suitcase, muttered something about not wanting to be disturbed, and quickly ushered me into his office. He pressed his lips together, his gaze cautious. “Winnie, what’s wrong? Are you upset because I went out for drinks last night and didn’t tell you?” I didn’t say a word. My eyes swept across his office, a space I’d seen countless times over video calls but was now entering for the first time. On his desk was a picture frame. I glanced at it, expecting to see us. But our photo was gone, replaced by a handsome shot of him on his motorcycle. He followed my gaze and cleared his throat. “Too many people come in and out of the office. I keep our photo at home now.” I looked at him, a quiet weight settling between us. It had been three months since we’d last seen each other. I had imagined this moment a thousand times—would we cry? Laugh? Or just hold each other in a silent, desperate hug? I had never imagined this suffocating awkwardness. Without a word, I took out my phone and played the video. Chloe’s voice, bright and carefree, filled the sterile office. A flash of panic crossed Jack’s face. “Winnie, she’s just a riding buddy. There’s nothing going on.” A wave of exhaustion washed over me. “She’s also your assistant. Why did you never mention her?” “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice rising with anxiety. “We met in the riding group first. We’d been on a few runs together. Her major was a perfect fit for the role, and she was looking for a job, so I offered it to her. We’re just friends, that’s all. Buddies.” He finally stepped forward, pulling me into a belated, stiff hug. “Winnie, we’ve been together for five years. It hasn’t been easy getting here. I cherish what we have.” A sharp sting pricked my nose. He pulled back and showed me his phone. “Look, I already booked a flight to see you this weekend. I can’t believe you came first. I’m so happy, Winnie. Truly.” He looked so sincere, so earnest, that the accusations died in my throat. He wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and took my hand, leading me out of the office. Chloe was sitting at her desk just outside. She stood up the moment she heard the door. “Jack—” Her eyes fell on our intertwined hands, and she stopped short. Jack’s voice was firm, official. “Let me introduce you. This is Winnie Thorne, our new Director of Operations. She’s also my girlfriend.” Chloe’s smile was strained. “Oh, the missus. I’ve heard so much about you.” Jack’s expression hardened, but there was a laugh in his voice. “Show some respect. We use titles in the office.” He turned to me. “You head down to the operations department. I’ll pick you up after work.” I nodded and walked away. Behind me, I heard Chloe’s indignant voice. “You’re gonna be mean to me just ’cause your girlfriend’s here? What happened to being buddies? Fine. We’re not riding tonight. Or ever again!” Jack laughed and playfully smacked her on the back. “Not a chance. Ride or die, remember? We’re buddies for life.” My steps faltered. I practically fled the nineteenth floor. I sat in my new, empty office for half an hour, then made another call. “I’m not taking the position in Chicago. I’ll come home. I’ll take the arranged marriage.” On the other end of the line, my brother, Bob, was stunned into silence for a moment before chuckling. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve worked so hard to get here on your own. You’re this close to getting Dad to finally approve. Why give up now?” When I didn’t answer, his tone shifted. “Winnie, what is it? Did that bastard Jack do something to you?” The dam broke. A sob caught in my throat. “Bob… I’m just so confused. Whatever happens, you should probably keep an eye out for a better candidate for the Chicago job.” “And, Bob?” I added, my voice trembling. “Can you do a background check on someone for me…?” 3 The Chicago skyline was a blaze of light. It was already nine o’clock. The building was nearly empty, but I hadn’t received a single message from Jack. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer and called him. When he picked up, I asked tentatively, “Jack, are you still busy?” There was a pause, and then he was a flurry of apologies. “Oh god, Winnie, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot you were in Chicago. I went out to dinner with my buddies.” My heart turned to ice. I looked out at the glittering neon signs. The city was just coming alive. But I had come here alone, full of courage and hope. Was this all it was leading to? Half an hour later, the door to my office flew open and Jack rushed in, out of breath. He collapsed in front of me, crouching down to look me in the eye. “I’m so sorry, Winnie. I honestly forgot. I’m so, so sorry. Hit me, yell at me, whatever you want.” A three-hour flight, a full afternoon of work… I was physically and mentally drained. Before I could even speak, a figure appeared in the doorway behind him. A look of embarrassment crossed Jack’s face. “I’d been drinking. Chloe gave me a ride.” The will to speak completely deserted me. I just picked up my bag. “Let’s go.” I sat in the back seat, watching as Jack, in the passenger seat, nervously monitored Chloe’s driving. “Check your mirror when you change lanes. How many times do I have to tell you?” Chloe waved a dismissive hand. “You’re such an old man, Jack. God, I know, I know.” They were so close, so comfortable, it was as if I wasn’t even there. I finally understood. Two years of living apart had changed him. This was not the Jack I remembered. When the car stopped, Chloe offered to help with my luggage. Then, with the ease of long practice, she unlocked the door to Jack’s apartment with her fingerprint. She dangled the car keys in front of him and gave him a look. Jack handed me a pair of generic gray guest slippers. But I could clearly see a pink pair tucked away in the shoe cabinet. He guided me to the sofa to rest while he bustled around, unpacking my things. Once everything was put away, he approached me, hesitating. “Winnie… I left the dinner so abruptly, I feel bad. You must be exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll just go back and show my face for a little bit, and then I’ll be right back, okay?” I suddenly understood the silent message Chloe had given him with the car keys. I looked at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Jack, what do you take me for?” “Winnie, you’re my girlfriend,” he said, his voice laced with desperation. “You’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. That has never changed.” “Today was my fault, I know. But these last two years… it’s not like you, back in New York with your family and friends. Chicago is a cold place. These buddies are all I have, the only people I can grab a drink with. I don’t want to lose them.” He took a deep breath. “We’re really, truly, just buddies.” I felt like all the strength had been drained from my body. “Fine. Go. Come back early.” His face lit up with relief. He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, and rushed out the door. I stood at the window and watched as he practically jogged down the street, my tears falling without warning. Late that night, he crept into the room and gently tucked the covers around me, his lips brushing my ear in a kiss that smelled of whiskey. I stared at the ceiling, my voice quiet in the darkness. “You’ve been in Chicago for two years now. If you came back to HQ, you’d definitely get a promotion. Have you thought about applying for a transfer…?” I felt his breath catch, just for a second. But he didn’t move. And he didn’t answer. 4 Life in Chicago settled into a routine. Jack was still gentle with me. He would wait for me after work, drive me home. For a month, he turned down every social event, and he didn’t go riding once. But a seed of doubt, once planted, is impossible to uproot. Chloe’s TikTok account was a Pandora’s box, tempting me again and again to open it, to watch the life he had lived without me. One day, Jack was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other holding his phone, a wide grin on his face. I knew what he was looking at. Their riding crew had a group chat that buzzed with activity all day long. Suddenly, he turned to me, his voice cautious. “The crew says it’s been a while. They want to go for a run in the hills tonight… Winnie, why don’t you come with me?” I looked at him. “Okay.” His smile froze. In five years, we had done everything together, but riding was always his thing, not ours. “Well,” he said, his tone unreadable, “we’ll have to take it slow with you on the back. Just a scenic ride.” The next second, a motorcycle roared past us. It was Chloe. “Try and catch me, old man!” she yelled, her voice carried on the wind. “If you can!” Something inside him ignited. He slammed his foot on the gas, the car lurching forward. The color drained from my face. I gripped his shirt, my voice a terrified whisper. “Jack, I’m scared…” He didn’t hear me. He was laser-focused on the bike ahead, pushing the car faster and faster, weaving through the winding mountain roads. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to burst. When he finally pulled over, I stumbled out of the car and was violently sick. Chloe handed me a bottle of water. “Ms. Thorne, with a delicate constitution like yours, maybe you should just stay home next time.” Jack was off talking to the others, barely sparing me a glance. On the way home, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with complaint. “I told you it wasn’t for you. You insisted on coming.” I looked down. “It won’t happen again.” Never again. I threw myself into my work. One afternoon, a shriek echoed through the office. My assistant, Molly, burst in, her face pale. “Ms. Thorne, the contract with Grayson Corp… they never stamped it.” I shot to my feet. The entire department had worked overtime for half a month on that deal. As my team erupted into panicked chatter, I silenced them with a look. “Who gave it to you?” “It was… Mr. Heston’s assistant, Chloe,” Molly whispered. I stormed up to the nineteenth floor, my anger a burning knot in my stomach. I slammed the contract down on Chloe’s desk. “My department worked for two weeks straight, and you’re telling me now that the contract was never even finalized? How could you have missed this?” The entire floor fell silent, heads turning to watch the drama unfold. Jack came out of his office, looking surprised. He picked up the contract. “Winnie, it’s a minor mistake. There’s no need to make a scene.” “A minor mistake?” I stared at him in disbelief. “Half a month of our work is down the drain! Mr. Heston, is this the kind of work your people do?” His face darkened. But then Chloe spoke, her voice ringing with defiance. “I know you’ve had it out for me from the beginning. It’s my fault, I admit it. I’ll resign, is that what you want?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “It is your fault. Do you have any idea how big this deal was? Can you afford to pay for this loss?” “That’s enough!” Jack’s voice was a whip crack. “Winnie,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “you come storming up here, screaming at my staff without knowing all the facts. Don’t you think that’s a bit out of line?” My eyes widened. Before I could even form a reply, he continued. “You have an entire department of people. Didn’t a single one of them think to double-check the document? Maybe you should focus on managing your own team, Ms. Thorne.” I took a deep breath, my voice shaking with rage. “Jack, you are so biased it’s unbelievable. Do you even know who you are?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “Of course, I know who I am. I may not be some golden child favored by HQ like you, but I know that here, in Chicago, I’m the General Manager.” “Now, if there’s nothing else, Ms. Thorne, please leave.” The office was dead silent. Everyone was watching. It was as if I was seeing him for the first time. My blood ran cold. Suddenly, the elevator doors dinged open, and a man in a sharp suit stepped out. “Who has the audacity to speak like that?” At the sound of that familiar voice, the strength I’d been clinging to finally gave out. Tears streamed down my face. Bob walked toward us. Jack’s face paled. “Mr. Sterling.” My brother ignored him completely, handing me a tissue. “The entire Sterling Corporation can be hers. Firing one incompetent employee is nothing.” He shot a look of pure contempt at Chloe. “You can get lost. Legal will be in touch about the damages you’ve caused.” Then, his gaze fell on Jack. “I put you in charge of Chicago, and this is how you treat my sister?” Jack’s face went from pale to ghostly white. 5 Bob’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable authority that echoed through the silent nineteenth floor. “S-sister?” The color drained completely from Jack’s face. He whipped his head around to stare at me. “Winnie… you… Mr. Sterling is…?” Bob scoffed. “If it wasn’t for Winnie, do you really think a kid a few years out of college would be running the Chicago branch?” I stood there, frozen. My brother’s arrival had shattered the last of my composure, ripping away every last pretense. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks, not of sorrow, but of a profound, soul-crushing absurdity. I watched his face, the shock and panic warring in his eyes, the desperate plea for this to be some kind of mistake. I suddenly felt so, so tired. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I use my mother’s surname. Bob is my full-blooded brother.” I met Jack’s gaze as Bob’s voice cut through the air again. “My father never thought much of you. Winnie fought for you, begged him, even knelt in front of him to give you this chance.” “The deal was that if you two could both prove yourselves, he wouldn’t force her into the arranged marriage. He would accept you as his son-in-law.” “You’ve been in Chicago for two years. In all that time, Winnie hasn’t taken a single day off at HQ. She worked relentlessly, just for the chance to be with you sooner.” Bob looked him up and down with disgust. “And what have you been doing? Living it up? Riding? Buddies? Don’t flatter yourself with such pathetic excuses.” He shot Jack one last cold, dismissive look, as if he were a piece of trash on the sidewalk. He put a protective arm around my shoulder, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Winnie, we’re leaving.” He didn’t spare another glance for Jack, or for the ashen-faced Chloe. The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the sight of Jack stumbling forward as if waking from a dream, cutting off the dead silence and the dozens of prying eyes. The polished steel walls reflected my pale, tear-streaked face. “Bob…” I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s okay,” he sighed, his voice softening. “The bet is over. I’ll talk to Dad.” So he knew. He’d known all along about my childish bet with our father. That I would make it on my own, using the name Winnie Thorne, without any help from the Sterling family. That if Jack and I could both rise to a high enough position within three years, proving our relationship wasn’t based on dependence, the family would accept him, and I could escape the cold, strategic marriage they had planned. Jack’s transfer to Chicago was a test, an opportunity. I had pushed myself to the breaking point at headquarters, so close to earning my father’s approval, so close to joining him here, side-by-side. I thought we were working toward the same future. How utterly laughable. All my perseverance, all my lonely courage, had just become the punchline to a cruel joke. Back at my temporary apartment, I packed my bags like an automaton. My phone screen lit up relentlessly with calls and texts from Jack. Winnie, please pick up! I’m begging you! I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know! Let me explain, there’s nothing going on with me and Chloe! She’s really just a buddy! Five years, Winnie. Are you really throwing it all away over a misunderstanding? Winnie Thorne! You played me for a fool! That last text was dripping with resentment and a bruised ego. My finger hovered over the screen, but I didn’t open a single message. I calmly called my brother. “Bob, change my flight. Get me on the next plane back to New York. And I’m resigning from the Director of Operations position in Chicago.” “Are you sure?” he asked. “Yes,” I said, closing my eyes. My voice was quiet, but firm. “I’m coming home for the arranged marriage.”

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